#I know it doesn’t make sense but just go with it

[galene-gothic]

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗌

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES TIP JAR

CHRISTMAS & NEW YEAR SALE AND OFFERS

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

Trigger warning

Your bare face is gorgeous. I’m not sure why I felt the need to say that but it just came through and I couldn’t ignore it. Your lips are an area of focus in this reading as well. I’m not sure what it is about your lips - it could be that you have naturally pink lips, cupid bow ones or have hyperpigmentation around your lips that make it look like you have a natural lip liner (it’s going to be different for everyone) but no matter what, they’re extremely gorgeous. Maybe because it’s winter in the northern hemisphere, many of you could wear lip balms, petroleum jelly or lip glosses but it gives your lips a wet appearance. If not, you lick and bite your lips a lot, like even if you don’t have any of the attributes mentioned above, the way you move your lips, the way you touch it, lick it, bite it, everything just gives you a different vibe. Now moving beyond your lips because while I could sing praises about them all day, I want the reading to consist of more. Your energy is such that when people see your vices or perceived ‘flaws’, it doesn’t disinterest them but instead only add more dimension to you. It makes you more attractive to them because they experience a certain ‘rawness’ in you that they might not get to experience elsewhere in this world due to how everyone is striving for perfection to the point they all seem manufactured. You’re someone who people stare at when in cafés or public places and I’m so sorry but you have fallen victim to catcalling possibly multiple times especially when you were younger than you are right now. You didn’t deserve that. People find themselves losing a certain level of consciousness when they’re close to you, especially physically. You cause people to feel a heat when around you and even away from you, it depends on the person, sometimes it is a gentle warmth that envelops them, sometimes it is a certain hotness running through their that makes it hard for them to contain themselves around you, to even breathe around you, let alone act normal and sometimes it is in the form of jealousy, people of the same sex or who are interested in increasing their appeal but haven’t been able to find their own spark feel intimidated by your scorching heat that seems to engulf all around it unapologetically. One thing that I need to warn you about is that you definitely have people who are jealous of you. You don’t even seem to notice it but when you’re out, people who are literally taken tend to check you out right in front of them, causing their partner to feel a certain hostility towards you. People stare at you a lot, it is very obvious. It’s come through multiple times. Right now, you’re someone who is just very nonchalant. You don’t hold onto connections too tightly, let alone chase them.

You used to formerly speak with your eyes a lot with certain people, it created a sense of knowing, belonging, connection and familiarity but now you just walk past those same people like you don’t know them or you might greet them, smile at them but you don’t seem to have the same gaze in your eyes anymore, often breaking eye contact quickly or not even caring enough to maintain it, it causes them to feel hurt sometimes, wondering if they never meant anything to you, if you just forgot them, if they were just that forgettable to you but it also makes you irresistibly attractive to them. You’ve developed a certain peace within yourself, there were days when you didn’t know how to live or had forgotten how to do so. You had become very internal, causing you to live within yourself and with it came a lot of overthinking. You used to hold onto grief and people could have underestimated you back then but you have moved far past that. You’ve become more present and mindful, you have started living beyond your mind. You’re starting to smile more, live more and keep your life, treasure it, even if it isn’t perfect, even if it didn’t turn out the way you had imagined. You’ve definitely had a past that was full of tears. It was difficult but you’ve left it all behind, this sense of presence and contentment is adding onto your attractiveness because the sorrow you’ve experienced has also given you a lot of wisdom. One thing that you don’t want to fall into is mourning and desperation because you have experienced both. ‘Extreme nostalgia’ is what I just heard. The sorrow you’ve experienced on your path, the tears that you’ve cried are the very things that are helping you move forward with such confidence and self assuredness. Since you’ve experienced so much, many dark thoughts too, possibly suicidal ones for some of you and have always managed to find a way out, you just feel like things will turn out fine in the end. You have tortured yourself enough in the past, it’s time to live now. That’s how you think and this shift is noticeable because you’re just focused on your own life. Your perception of connections especially romantic ones is that while they’re beautiful, people can burst your bubble so you just want to be discerning enough to only let a certain kind of people into your life like that. You desire to love but it’s not that big of a desire anymore, everyone wants love, to give and receive it, to be desired and desire someone but the way you look at it is “I’ve been there, I’m glad I’m out”, you’re just glad to be over it. It doesn’t even have to be romantic, I’m picking up on major disappointments in connections in general, causing you to prioritise yourself first and foremost.

You’re actually a hopeless romantic, a devotee. When you love, it’s very deep for you, your love is of divine nature. There’s no wandering eyes or anything of that sort, there’s just your person who you hold to be dear, almost divine, your love is devotional, almost like worship. I wonder if there was a point when you were devoted to the platonic or/and romantic connections in your life just for them to end and you were devastated about at least one or a few of them but the fact that you’ve managed to come out of it has given you more power because you know how deep your love runs, you know how you love and what kind of love you give out, and desire for yourself so it gives you the self assuredness that you deserve similar energy. You hold yourself and others to a high standard but if they don’t live up to it, you just abandon them and move forward. It’s nothing malicious but you just don’t see the point in getting caught up in the waiting game, training game or sticking around to entertain less than what you know you deserve. You have a different, slightly detached and elusive vibe to you. Your eyes and words tend to teleport people to a different world, not literally obviously but that’s what it feels like for them. Your energy is not possible to ignore, it bothers those around you because of the elusiveness mixed with the heat that I mentioned earlier but it’s not a bother that they ever want to get rid of. They enjoy the feeling of slight discomfort that comes from your presence. You interact with people very casually, not with everyone obviously but your ease of interacting with others is something that adds to your attractiveness. The vibe that I’m getting from you is that some people are bothered by your heat, others find it warm but both of these parties do not even realise when you started filling their world with nothing but yourself, it just hits them randomly and so strongly. I’m picking up on a romantic vibe from you and your beauty, it seems very gentle despite the heat you radiate. You’re also full of contradictions, despite your heat, you have a romantic appeal but despite the gentleness and elusiveness of it, you really confuse people. Some of you get turned on by fighting, not the excessive toxic kind of fighting but the dramatic yet silly ones that add to the pulse on your vertical lips are very much welcome by you 😭. I keep on hearing ‘what do you mean?’ by Justin Bieber here. “Don’t know if you’re happy or complaining”, “first you wanna go to the left and then turn right, wanna argue all day, make love all night.” You feel like home while simultaneously repulsing people. You’re a complex person full of contradictions and that’s what seems to make you attractive. I hope that you enjoyed this reading. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

This pile is for you if you have been touching and rubbing yourself a lot recently or just do so a lot generally. You have an intense sexual nature but really innocent eyes. You also crave fairytale love, like the innocent kind of love that doesn’t include touching and rubbing but just an eye contact makes you feel something, just an accidental brushing of skin is enough to make blood rush up to your cheeks, that’s the kind of love you desire and also give out but despite that, your sexual energy slips past your fairly pure and innocent exterior. Despite your love for consuming romantic content, you are not desperate for it. You understand that it’s a luxury to be with you and act like it. You know that people pleasing is self betrayal so you do not go out of your way to please others but at the same time, when they’re around you, you do please them? It just comes naturally to you. Much like the last pile, I’m getting something with the lips but in this pile, either you have plump lips, have a protruding lower lip or just pout a lot. Maybe, it’s just a natural slightly pouty appearance but I’m literally getting flying kisses so I’m not sure. Despite this innocent appearance and your desire for romance, you are very good at leaving people behind. You’ve learned that it’s best not to overstay your welcome anywhere. You’re someone who leaves people and things behind at the required pace, and you do not even seem to care about what anyone might think. You are fine with being lonely, what you’re not fine is getting used and heartbroken by people who might not have your best interests at heart. You have always had this delicate balance between being a friend and a lover. This could have led to misunderstandings in the past, you tend to treat your friends affectionately and generously, and those of the opposite sex or the sex you are interested in romantically might misunderstand, taking it as a free pass to underestimate and disrespect you? It has likely happened at some point in the past, definitely not for all of you but this quality of yours makes you very attractive. Also, when you fall apart from such people, they aren’t even able to voice out how much they miss you because you didn’t have a relationship set in stone and you just act as though you never even met them, as if you don’t know them, never did. In the past, you may have been unable to maintain this delicate balance or might perceive it as such but you are starting to go forward in life with stronger boundaries and that makes you very attractive.

I wouldn’t be surprised if some or in fact, many of you stopped making friends with the opposite sex due to such misunderstandings and disrespect. People from the past miss you, they’re terribly attracted to you and you’re irreplaceable but you’ve clearly grown out of that. If not, this is not your pile. I’m getting a lot of youthful energy here. It’s not just this delicate balance that has made you feel misunderstood in the past but also your friendships with people of the same sex. I’m legit getting friends from school missing you if you’re out of it and away from them (especially if you separated from them connection wise). You do not realise just how hard the nostalgia hits people of the past when it comes to you. People remember you as ‘the one that got away’ honestly and I hate this concept because it’s just sad, and I believe in true love being present, and not getting away but yes, you’re awfully missed. This is funny but people realise that they love or miss you at around 1-3 a.m. in the morning. You have something melancholic and lonely about you but also something so wholesome, and warm at the same time but you also interact with them by rolling eyes, sighing, vacantly staring, calling them dumb and saying something like “who cares?” All of this is dearly missed when you’re gone. You shouldn’t have to get away for people to want you, to appreciate and desire you, to treat you kindly, and with love and respect. You have this thing where you naturally love your friends a lot and don’t hold them inferior to other connections but this has led to you naturally relying on them and also treating them with a lot of love, and priority, and it was not rewarding for you because they used to develop hostility towards you over time for some reason. You’re very attractive to those from the past because they’ll genuinely never find someone like you anywhere. You’re an unconditionally loving person but you also understand that it’s better not to get involved in the lives of messy people. Also, you have a very casual and friendly way of interacting with people when they’re around you, you greet people and treat them as though you’ve known them for years at least for the amount of time that you’re around them even if you’ve just met them. You also have a tendency to be mean and get on people’s nerves but it only makes you more endearing because they get obsessed yet repulsed by you.

There’s something very innocent and pure, almost naive about you but also someone so dirty and mature. The energy here is a bit more contradictory but your contradictions are what seem to make you attractive. People who are used to being in control and are able to read others well find themselves being unable to remain controlled when around you and fail to read you, causing them to be frustrated, intrigued or/and drawn to you. There’s just something different about you that makes others feel like they’re changing, they’re shaking up, it’s not something that they can even put a finger on, it just is. People can’t help but want you around after meeting you, your presence and energy are intoxicating. I wouldn’t be surprised if once you enter a new environment, you see specific people everywhere around you because they just want to be close to you even if it’s from a distance. Many of you here seem to look like puppies or possess that kind of energy. This is the pile where you attract or at least intrigue those slightly older than you. Even people who claimed to ‘not date someone younger than them EVER’ can’t help but be curious about you, be attracted to you. Despite your youthful and puppy like energy, it’s them that feel like a puppies? Like, after meeting you, initially you’re the one acting like a puppy, treating them well and lighting up when you see them but the more the time starts passing by they feel like you’re not taking them seriously, they’re the one following you around everywhere, wanting to prove themselves to you, they do not even understand why they feel so lovesick without you around as if they were a puppy without their owner. Also, another thing is that some people have their youth attached to you and well, they’re still attracted to you even if you’re no longer in touch. Time passes by too fast when you’re around, people find themselves wishing that the hours would go slow so that they could spend more time with you. You’re a piece of warm sunlight of the first spring when it’s not hot yet but just a pleasant weather with a slight amount of coldness that vanishes when you graze their skin. You’re a joy to be around - a dream girl. You’re pleasant because there’s nothing too imposing about you but your energy though gentle and soft in nature is felt strongly, enveloping all that’s around you. People can’t help but want to be a part of your world. There’s also a sense of fragility that I’m picking up on here but it’s something that others feel fortunate to see about you. I hope that you enjoyed this reading. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

I think that some of you love dancing or just enjoy being young and enjoying life, being present. You’re just so candid, there’s something youthful and timeless about you due to how present you are because you’re someone who actively tries to be present. You do not want to perish with time which is why you try to make every moment count, to have adventures, to try and live your dreams, to leave a legacy. “People will not remember what you wore but they will remember how you made them feel.” You seem to have a solid understanding of this and try to make others feel good about themself and life itself. You’re very busy making the most out of your youth and out of your life but in your presence, you try to make sure that others don’t feel left out, you try to be as inclusive as possible, understanding that they too will only live once. You have an energy that’s everlastingly young about you and your eyes are very attractive, like they’re just captivating regardless of their size, shape and colour. Your eyes give you an appearance of goodness because they look like eyes that would belong to someone good, they’re open, inviting and warm but it seems like more of a disguise once you’re gone because when people run into you or are around you again after a falling out of some sort, your eyes lack that old familiar warmth that once greeted them and they feel an actual ache at the thought that your life continued on without them. You are someone who won’t stop your life for anyone, you want to have fun and spend your life joyfully so when you’re not getting that with certain people or in certain environments, you’re quick to pull yourself and continue on with your life, trying to make it as beautiful and celebratory as possible. Many really extravagant words are coming through for you, I wonder if your energy is a bit dramatic and extravagant too. You are someone who knows how to touch people and gently persuade them but remain distant, causing people to admire you and almost need you. There are times when people think that you’re wasting their time and try to give up on you but something happens that causes them to lose their discernment and heart to you again.

It’s hard to stay composed when you’re around because you just make them feel like little children. I find this endearing, you have a way of making everything very personal. You make memories with people and one thing in particular that stands out to me as attractive is when you call people by their name, it feels personal, it feels sweet. However, most people do not come forth to you beyond yearning for you. You’ve probably had friends confess to you in the past, out of nowhere. You’re very loveable in every sense of the word and people who share closeness to you or once did cannot help but wish for more than that. Many people do not even manage to get as close to you as they’d like to. There’s a lot of fear attached to confessing their feelings for you. The helplessness attached to liking you makes you irresistibly attractive, pretty much obsessively magnetic. Seduction is supposed to be subtle, it’s supposed to be non threatening, that’s what your attractiveness is like. I won’t lie, you do have a very scary attractive appeal too, like people who are attracted to you right away but even so, you win them over more and more over time. When you are around people, the world seems to stop but they don’t even notice it until after a while, they’ll have no clue when it started, when it got so deep. People do have a recognition of a connection with you from the start itself, of course it isn’t like that for everyone and it doesn’t have to be but those who recognise this are still unable to voice it out, however, if you’ve experienced this, you’re probably aware of how they act because their actions and mannerisms likely do give away their feelings. I’m picking up on humiliation, ridicule of looks, etc. You seem to have glowed up, take good care of yourself physically and dress to the best of ability, carrying yourself with your head held high because you remember how you were treated when you weren’t as attractive. This could be something like people close to you leaving you or disrespecting you too, it seems to extend beyond just looks actually, you’ve glowed up mentally and emotionally too. Also, you are forgetting the past, you are trying to, you have grown and don’t want it to hold any power over you at all. You are not in denial or anything, in fact, the kind of ‘forgetting’ seems to be a very healthy one, you’re naturally letting things go without regrets.

You make people feel very young, to share an innocent bond with you, full of memories, they can’t help but yearn for you. It’s your friends and those you share communities with that find you to be the most attractive. Also, you’re someone who literally doesn’t have regrets in terms of connections because you’ve always done your best, you’ve always given your all. You have really strong self respect, it was likely developed with time and experience but those you share memories and past with, if they were struggling, you’d not let them come back in order to search for comfort, support and companionship because you remember how they left. Those who have lost you have especially had to pine for you, the realisation that there’s no one like you is hitting them. Many of these people, even platonic connections seem to have acted like you weren’t all that in the past but now the reality of having lost you is starting to set in. Some of you have nice thick hair or you do something that makes it look full, you could simply just leave it open for example, some of you here use a lot of eye pencil, liner or eyeshadow too probably in brown or black, if not you just have captivating eyes like I said earlier. Your energy brings about a heat that is hard to ignore, it’s usually a strong heat than just a warmth, the type to make people act out of control because they’re not sure how to act around you. It’s like you make them lose control and feel hot, and they regret certain things they say or do but still crave more of it because it’s addictive. The way you move too, gosh, you might not even pay that much attention to it but you’re so attractive like lethally attractive. I keep on getting a theme of you wasting people’s time but it doesn’t even seem to be intentional, you just move on with your life is all. You come off as someone who’s like “if we meet again, we meet, if we don’t, you have my memories to remember me by.” You make everything feel like a movie - a dream - in fact. People get so attached to you, they get so used to you, when you’re not around even the most familiar place starts feeling strange. Some of you could possess dimples or one single dimple. I hope that you enjoyed this reading. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

[sylveonsylk]

I mean, first of all, it shows that he matured. (Makes sense, though; he’s what, 26? Young, stupid, cocky af, thinks he’ll never die…literally cause respawn. And then in the last issue of the comic, he’s like…mid 30s and stepped up to be a dad during the Free Love era, by my estimation.)

But, it also shows that he healed from his own trauma. As the youngest of seven (SEVEN like, God bless you Rita, holy shit), he was probably picked on a lot. And with that many kids, some stuff is gonna fall through the cracks. Granted, I don’t think Rita (I’m using my name for Scout’s ma here because I think she deserves one) was a bad mom by any means, but if you’re a single mom having to support seven kids, you’re working. A lot. And with seven children, I’m sure some things just…go unnoticed no matter how good of a parent you are. (Hell, my mom only had two kids and there was still stuff about my brother and I that she missed. Like, imagine SEVEN.) And Scout is adamant that he doesn’t have a dad, meaning none of Rita’s lovers stuck around to help with the kids. (Otherwise, he might at least acknowledge a step-dad or father figure.)

So, Scout healed from the trauma of being in a loud, noisy house with six other kids, having an overly busy mom and no dad. Even though his lovers are deadbeats, he knows what was important to him as a kid, so he’s providing that to his kids. Scout is, essentially, cycle-breaking.

(I did post this on TikTok but i wanted to also post it here)

Am the only one who noticed that the first time scout talks to us (which is in his meet the team video) he threatening us and say that we won’t survive in his situation

But then the last time (I believe the last time) he talks to us (which is the 7th comic) he thanks us and tells us he happy we stuck with them

I love his character development they took this arrogant and annoying young Boston boy and turned him into a happy goofy single dad with 4 kids, i love it!!!!

[oddlittlestories]

I love House and Wilson.

House refuses to get help he needs. He claws and bites. He yells at people, says mean stuff, by means of avoidance and pushing people away.

And Wilson doesn’t force him–most of the time. He fights with him, calls him out, demands better. And he’s there for him when he comes around, and comforts him in ways that probably wouldn’t even make sense to anyone else.

House is feral, and everyone knows it. But they are so much alike.

Wilson refuses to acknowledge that he needs help. He treats himself as a literal donor–organs, tissues, blood, time. There’s almost nothing Wilson won’t give you. How can he make himself smaller? He’ll do it for you. He’ll do it to make this work.

And House sniffs out those problems like a bloodhound. House literally follows him to ensure he learns what exactly is going on with Wilson. He confronts Wilson, argues with him, gives him a reason to not sell himself off–even if it never works.

And on rare occasion, they do force each other. Wilson drugs House to bring him to his dad’s funeral–to protect his relationship with his mom and give him a chance to come to grips with his dad’s death. And House drugs Wilson so he doesn’t give that talk at the conference–to protect his career, keep him out of prison, and to soothe his guilty conscience.

Outsiders see House as a feral friend and Wilson as the steady one.

But Wilson and House are equally matched. They both have walls sky high, and they both see right through each other most of the time. Wilson’s just has a nice coat of paint that makes people walk right by. They’re both deeply flawed people who spend half their lives trying to drag the other away from the flames.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Built A Fire Just To Keep Me Warm

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers

Synopsis: you and Peter are in the same friend group but never got along. That doesn’t keep him from making sure you never get cold

Masterlist

“Guys, why is it so damn cold in here?” You groaned and rubbed your arms up and down. The thought of sitting in your lecture class for the next hour with your professor with the dullest voice imaginable somehow made you even colder.

“I told you to layer up.” MJ shrugged. “But you never want to listen during layer talk. You know this guy always cracks the AC.”

“I always listen during layer talk.” Ned mumbled and threw his scarf over his shoulder.

You looked at your professor in the front of the room and then up at the vent above you.

“Why though? It’s the middle of December. My arm hairs should not be standing up.” You said and held your arm up for MJ to see.

“Maybe you should wear a jacket.” Peter interjected, making you all look at him.

“What was that?” You asked him. Ned signaled for him to stop talking but Peter had a point to make.

“I was just saying. You know this professor always has the AC on. But you always come to class in thin shirts and then complain that you’re cold.” Peter said. You sat up in your chair so you could fully face Peter and narrowed your eyes at him.

“So?”

“So,” he mimicked your tone, “You know its going to be cold in here. But you still never wear a jacket. Maybe you should put one on next time so you won’t have this problem.”

“And maybe you should mind your business. I wasn’t even talking to you.” You grumbled and slumped down in your chair. Peter watched you rubbing your arms to keep warm and rolled his eyes a little.

“You were talking to the group.” Peter pointed out. “I’m in the group. So it was my business.”

“No, I was talking to MJ.” You stated as your annoyance for him grew.

“You said “guys, why is it so damn cold in here?”. That implies you were asking all of us.” Peter corrected. Ned and MJ exchanged a look as you glared at Peter.

“Okay, but I didn’t say ‘Peter, I’m really cold. Please give me your professional opinion on how to prevent that’. I was just making an observation.”

“But that’s not really an observation though, is it?” Peter asked. “It’s a declarative statement. We were in Linguistics together. I’m surprised you don’t remember that.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “Why do you have to be such a know it all?”

“I don’t know. Why do you insist on wearing the flimsiest shirts to class and then complaining that you’re cold?” Peter retorted.

“There’s about to be an active threat in this classroom.” You mumbled under your breath.

“What do you mean?” Ned asked you.

“I mean I’m about to beat Peter up.” You told him.

“Knock it off you two.” MJ warned. “Can you guys go one day without going at each other?”

“Tell Peter that. He started it.” You reminded her.

“I don’t care. I don’t want any bickering at my party tonight.” She said. “It can’t be like Friendsgiving. Because that was giving enemies instead of friends.”

“If you don’t want any fighting then you’ll have to uninvite Peter.” You told her.

“I can’t. He’s the only one with an ID. We need him for the alcohol.” MJ replied.

“I’m right here.” Peter pointed out

“Unfortunately.” You mumbled.

“Speaking of alcohol, I can’t go with him to get it.” Ned cut in. “My Lola has a sixth sense for this kind of thing. If I even look at a bottle of alcohol, she’ll know about it and strike me dead.”

“Then you’re going to have to go with him. I’ll be busy setting up.” MJ told you.

“What?” You whined. “I don’t want to go with him. Why can’t he go alone?”

“Again, right here.” Peter stated and waved his hand.

“Because of the Buddy System.” MJ answered. “Remember when we sent Ned alone to the bodega to get Sun Chips? He almost got kidnapped.”

“The only reason the man didn’t take me was because he thought my choice of chips was disgusting.” Ned whispered.

“That’s valid.” You shrugged. “I wouldn’t kidnap you either.”

“Can you guys just go together this once? For me? For little mixed drink loving old me?” MJ pleaded and held your hand to her heart.

“Fine.” You sighed and rubbed your hands up and down your arms. Peter watched you doing this and then looked up at the vent above you.

“Don’t act so excited about it.” Peter mumbled to you.

“I’m not.” You scoffed and gave him a look.

“I was being sarcastic.”

“So was I.” You said as Peter got up out of his seat.

“Where are you going?” You asked him.

“To pee. Is that allowed?” He sassed you.

“Go piss girl.” Ned called after Peter as he walked down the steps of the lecture room, earning many stares from other classmates.

“Ned, no.” MJ whispered. “That’s not relevant anymore.”

“Oh shit. Um, mama a hawk tuah diva behind you?” Ned asked to try and fix his mistake.

“Just stop while you’re ahead.” MJ replied with a pat on his knee. She then turned to you with a devious smile.

“Peter totally likes you.” She whispered.

“What?” You laughed. “No he doesn’t. We’re barely even friends. I only tolerate him since he’s friends with Ned. And I mess with Ned heavy.”

Just then, Peter came back from the bathroom and stopped at the professors desk. You watched them curiously but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. When Peter walked away from the desk, your professor went over to the thermostat and turned the AC off. You felt the vent above you stop spewing cold air just as Peter came back to where you were all sitting. He didn’t look at you but his cheeks were pink as he sat down. MJ and Ned hadn’t noticed what happened so you leaned over to him to whisper.

“Why did you do that?” You asked him.

“You said you were cold.” He shrugged, still without looking at you.

“So? Why do you care if I’m cold?”

“I don’t. I was cold too. Not everything’s about you.” He said quickly. You decided to drop it but you found the interaction strange.

Later that day, you and Peter kept a distance between you as you walked towards the nearest corner store. You had your arms folded to keep your hands warm and Peter was fighting the urge to comment on your lack of preparation for the cold.

“Do you have the list?” You asked Peter as you neared the store.

“I do. But it just says “alcohol” so we’re going in blind.” He answered. You couldn’t help but laugh at MJ’s lack of instructions as you rubbed your arms up and down. Peter noticed this and was about to offer his jacket when you reached the store. Instead, he held the door for you and you smiled in surprise.

“Thanks. Let’s just get what we need and get out of here.” You said, feeling awkward now as you walked past him into the store. You were never really alone with him so you weren’t expecting him to be so civil. You split up and went down each isle to collect a few token party items. As you browsed, you kept feeling Peter’s eyes on you but you never looked up to check.

“They don’t have MJ’s favorite vodka here. She’s gonna kill us if we don’t come back with it.” Peter came up to you to tell you.

“Damn. We could try the store two blocks down. They usually have it.”

“All right. Let’s go.” Peter said and nodded towards the door. As you started to walk to the next store, the frigid New York air hit you and sent a chill through your entire body. You shuddered and blew hot air on your hands before holding your arms to keep warm.

“Are you cold?” Peter asked you.

“Of course I’m cold. It’s brick out here.”

“How come you never wear a jacket if you’re always cold?” He asked. He didn’t sound accusatory, just curious.

“Because I thought we were just running to the store by the dorms. I didn’t think I’d need one.” You replied. Peter fought every instinct in his body that told him to stay silent and unzipped his jacket.

“Take mine.” He offered and held it out to you.

“What?” You laughed in surprise. “No way.”

“Come on. Don’t be stubborn. You’re freezing. Just take it.”

“I’m not taking your jacket. I’m fine.” You insisted and continued to shiver.

“Just take the damn jacket.” He sighed and put it over your shoulders. You wanted to be stubborn, but you more so wanted to be warm. You gave him a look and slipped your arms into his jacket. You instantly felt better and smiled a little at your new protection from the cold. Peters jacket hung a little big on you but kept you perfectly warm.

“Thank you.” You said timidly. “But aren’t you cold?”

“Nah.” He waved his hand. “I run hot.”

You had reached the next store by that point and he opened the door for you once again. You flashed him a quick smile and went inside to get the drinks for MJ. You found it quickly and joined him at the cash register.

You hugged Peter’s jacket tightly around you as you walked back to the dorms together. He felt better now that he wasn’t watching you freeze to death and you felt better now that you were safe from the bitter wind. You dropped Peter off at the boys dorm before going back to yours and MJs room. As soon as you walked in, you were hit with a familiar scent that made you suspicious. You looked around the dorm until you found what you were looking for.

“Oh, hey. You’re back.” MJ smiled when she found you.

“What’s this?” You asked and pointed to the mistletoe taped to the ceiling of the kitchen.

“Nothing.” MJ said quickly. “It’s basil.”

“You have basil taped to the ceiling?” You asked skeptically.

“I’m Italian.” She shrugged.

“No you’re not. I’ve eaten pasta you’ve made. It was like chewing a pen cap. There’s no Italian in that blood.”

“You got me. It’s mistletoe.” She admitted. “Arranged beautifully due to my floral arrangement class, may I add. I hung it incase you wanted to kiss any boys tonight.”

“I knew it. You’re still trying to set me up with Peter. It’s never going to work so give up now. Now matter how much basil you hang up.” You said and snatched the mistletoe down.

“You fight it but my lesbian instincts tell me that you guys are meant to be.” MJ said and held her hands up in defense. “And you better hang that back up because that was my only bushel of mistletoe.”

“The same lesbian instincts that made us get on that bus to Long Island? I can never un-go to Long Island, MJ. You did that to us.”

“It was dark. All the buses looked the same.” She defended herself. “But trust. My instincts are right about this one.”

“They’re not.” You stated. “I don’t like Peter like that. I don’t even like him as a friend.”

“Okay. Sure. I believe you. Nice jacket, by the way.” She smirked before walking away. You looked down and remembered you were wearing Peter’s beat up winter jacket. You quickly followed her into the kitchen area to continue the conversation.

“That doesn’t mean anything. I was cold.”

“Yeah. I bet he was too. Especially after he gave you his jacket.” She said smugly.

“He said he runs hot.” You insisted.

“Yeah. Hot for you. Ayo.” She grinned and held up her hand for a high five.

“That’s not getting a high five.” You said flatly. “There better not be any more surprises. Don’t try to intervene tonight, okay? Peter and I would never work.”

“I thought you said you and Peter would never happen. Now you’re saying it just wouldn’t work? Sounds like someone’s having a change of heart.” MJ clicked her tongue as she finished setting up for the party.

You rolled your eyes at her and didn’t respond as you helped her put out snacks. While setting a bowl of chips out on the table, you caught a whiff of Peter’s cologne coming off the jacket. You instinctively smiled at the scent before you caught yourself. You had never thought about it before, but now that MJ put the idea in your head, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was a deeper reason that you and Peter never got along.

An hour later, the party was in full swing. You made your rounds and greeted people as you filled their cups up some more. You would never admit it, but you were a little disappointed to not see Peter in the crowd yet. MJ noticed you searching the room every so often and took a place by your side.

“Looking for Peter?” She asked with a smug expression.

“What? No. Like I care if that doink shows up. I’m looking for Ned. He’s supposed to bring the…. Sun Chips.” You lied to cover up what you were really doing.

“Right, right. Of course. And how do you feel about Sun Chips?” She asked sarcastically.

“I need some air.” You said quickly and walked away from her. To get away from the crowd, you went out to your room and crawled out the window to sit on the roof. You hugged Peter’s jacket tightly around yourself and stared up at the night sky. The sound of the party coming through your open window sounded a million miles away. You drew your knees to your chest and rested your chin on them as the cold wind sent a chill through your body.

“Hey.” You heard behind you, making you turn around. You saw Peter coming through your bedroom window and come join you on the roof. You got a new feeling in your chest as he sat beside you.

“Hey.” You smiled softly at him. He returned the smile before an awkward silence settled between the two of you. You didn’t know how to interact after he was nice to you on your trip to the store.

“Thanks for walking through my bedroom with your dirty converse on.” You said to break the silence.

“Like my shoes were the dirtiest thing in that room. I’m pretty sure I saw a rat eating your homework.” He mumbled. You stared at each other as you both tried to read the situation. You were bickering like usual, but there was a playful sense to it this time.

“That’s just our third roommate, dummy.” You replied, adding to the teasing nature of the conversation.

“Ah, I see.” Peter chuckled before looking down shyly. The awkward silence returned but you found yourself hoping he didn’t leave.

“How come you’re out here? You’re not having fun?” He asked after a beat.

“It got a little overwhelming in there. I needed some alone time.”

“Oh, I could go.” He offered and went to stand up.

“You could stay.” You said and stopped him from getting up by placing your hand over his. You watched Peter turn bright red so you quickly withdrew your hand. It was quiet again and you both looked anywhere but each other.

“How come you’re not in there with Ned and all them? Didn’t you just get here?” You asked to break the silence.

“Oh, yeah. Ned and I just got here. But I walked by your room and I saw the window open. I was going to close it until I saw you out here.” He answered a little too quickly.

“Why were you by my room? The party is in the kitchen area.” You wondered. Peter was flushed again and a smile tugged at your lips.

“Were you looking for me?” You asked in a quiet voice. Before Peter could deny the allegations, a gust of wind hit the two of you. You shivered and rubbed your hands together to stay warm.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked you.

“You know what’s wrong.” You said with a slight roll of your eyes. Instead of pointing out that you were purposefully outside on the chilly roof, Peter took both your hands in his. You watched him curiously as he rubbed his hands up and down yours to generate heat. It occurred to you both at the exact same time that this was the first time you’d ever touched. You locked eyes with him and thought he’d let go, but he instead leaned down to blow some hot air on your hands to warm you up.

“Thanks.” You said softly. “That feels better.”

“You’re welcome.” He said in just as timid of a voice. The awkwardness returned and you turned away from each other to avoid it.

“I’m sorry about before. In class, I mean. It was none of my business. You can wear whatever you want.” Peter said after a minute.

“It’s fine.” You waved your hand. “Maybe you kinda sorta possibly had a point. I knew it would be cold. I should’ve worn a jacket. Besides, we always go at each other like that. Don’t be sorry.”

“You’re right. We do always fight.” He agreed. “Do you ever wonder why?”

“Oh, um. I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I assumed that’s just how we are.”

“Yeah, it is.” He nodded. “But how did it start? Did we just meet one day and decide we hated each other? I was trying to think about it the other day but I couldn’t remember.”

“Well, I remember MJ telling me she made a friend in her floral arrangement class. Which I told her not to take, by the way.”

“I told Ned the same thing.” Peter sighed. “I said it was a waste of time and credits. He didn’t listen. But he did make me a beautiful bouquet for my birthday.”

“MJ failed so she got me a gift card to Staples.” You replied, making Peter laugh.

“Why Staples?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure she found it on the ground.”

“Did you ever use it?” He asked.

“I did. And guess what I got.”

“Staples?”

“Yep.” You nodded, making him laugh again. You never realized it before, but Peter had the kind of laugh that made you want to say the most random things just to hear it again. His eyes crinkled when he laughed or smiled, another thing you hadn’t noticed before.

“I remember Ned introducing me to MJ, and then MJ introduced me to you. But I don’t remember how our dynamic started and why we fight all the time.”

“Hm.” You hummed. “It’s funny.”

“What is?” He wondered.

“The one time we’re alone together is the one time we’re not fighting.” You pointed out.

“You’re right.” He smiled shyly. “Funny.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward this time. You felt like you were talking to a completely different person than who Peter usually was. This version of Peter didn’t get under your skin or make you roll your eyes. This version was sweet and warmed you up from the cold.

“You kept my jacket.” Peter pointed out, making you flush in embarrassment.

“Oh, you can have it back.” You said and went to take it off.

“No, no. It’s okay. I want you to keep it.” He insisted and pulled it back around you. For extra measure, he zipped it up to your chin before patted both your arms. You smiled at the action and tilted your head down so the jacket would cover your chin.

“It looks better on you anyway.” He added without looking at you. You picked your head up and looked at him but he was busy fussing with the her of his shirt.

“Thanks. It’s really warm.” You said in a soft voice.

“Good. You need it. You’re always cold. And never prepared.”

“We can’t all be hot.” You replied. “Run hot, I mean.”

“Did you just call me hot?” Peter asked with a devious smile.

“Shut up.” You groaned. “You know what I meant.”

“I wish I had your problems. My hands are always sweating because I’m always so hot.” Peter said as he looked at his hands.

“Gross.” You grimaced. “Keep that to yourself.”

Peter looked sad as he didn’t realize you were joking. You found yourself feeling bad that you hurt his feelings despite all the times you intentionally tried to hurt them.

“I was just kidding. Let me feel.” You quickly assured him and took his hand. You ran your fingertips along his palm to see what he was talking about while Peter stayed perfectly still. You let out a soft laugh which sent chills up Peter’s spine.

“What do you think?” He asked in a quiet voice.

“It’s like touching a Swedish fish that’s been in a toddlers hand for too long.” You replied, making him laugh as well.

“Thank you. That was a really lovely description.”

“Seriously, how do you walk around with these things? Do girls ever complain when you hold hands?” You wondered as you slipped your hand into his. He instinctively rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand as the comfortable silence returned. You stayed like that for a moment, holding each others hand on the cold rooftop. The only warmth Peter had was from your hand so he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

“Aha! Holding hands!” MJ suddenly exclaimed from behind you. And was standing in your room and pouting at you through your open window. You turned around and quickly dropped Peter’s hand.

“What? No we’re not.” You scoffed and stood up. Peter felt an overwhelming wave of disappointment wash over him as you left the roof to follow MJ. It hurt him that you were so quick to drop his hand and deny what was happening, and even quicker to leave him.

“Lesbian instincts.” MJ said as she tapped the side of her head.

“Shut up. We weren’t holding hands.” You insisted as you led her back towards the party.

“I may be a little drunk right now but I know what I saw.” She stated. “And you can’t deny something I saw with my own two eyes.”

“What did she see?” Ned asked as he came to your side.

“Nothing.” You said quickly. “She didn’t see anything.”

“Nothing except her and Peter practically having full on intercourse out on the roof.” MJ replied, making Ned gasp.

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “We were not doing that. We were just holding hands.”

“So you admit it!” She clapped her hands at the confession and nearly fell over.

“Girl, how are you so drunk already?” You asked her. “The party only started an hour ago.”

“Not the point.” MJ held up a hand. “Why were you and Peter holding hands? I thought you hated each other?”

“Peter doesn’t hate her.” Ned laughed like it was ridiculous. You were about to question what made him sound so sure when you realized you had left Peter out on the roof. You left MJ and Ned behind and quickly ran back to your room. The window was shut but Peter was nowhere to be found. Guilt building up in your stomach now, you went back out to the party and searched the crowd for him. When you didn’t see him anywhere, you went back to the kitchen to find Ned.

“Did Peter come in here? I can’t find him.” You asked him.

“You just missed him.” Ned answered. “He said he wasn’t feeling well so we wasn’t going to head back to our dorm.”

“He left?” You asked sadly. You looked at your front door before looking at MJ for help. She tapped the side of your head again and you knew what you had to do.

You ran out to the hall but didn’t see Peter anywhere. The hum of the elevator gave you an idea where he might be. You got to the elevator just in time to see the doors closing. Without thinking, you wedged yourself in between them to get them to open back up. They bounced off either side of your body but opened up enough for you to get inside. Peter caught you as you stumbled in and helped you stand up straight.

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” He asked as you held your aching body.

“I think I just went down a cup size.” You wheezed out.

“Why didn’t you just tell me to hold the door?” Peter asked through a laugh.

“There was no time.” You waved your hand. “I had to talk to you. You’re leaving?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not much for parties.” He lied.

“Neither am I.” You told him as you stared into his eyes. He stared back and you could see a sadness in them that you knew was probably your fault.

“Before you go, I just wanted to apologize for before. I shouldn’t have run out on you like that.”

“It’s okay.” He shrugged. “We did look pretty incriminating.”

“We did.” You agreed. “And MJ was thrilled to see it. She has this dumb idea that we only pretend to hate each other to cover up the fact that we like each other.”

“She thinks that? Wow. That’s quite a theory.” Peter said as a blush painted his face a warm pink.

“Right? I don’t know where she gets it.” You shook your head and slid down the wall of the elevator. Peter decided to see the situation out and sat down beside you. Neither of you had pressed any buttons so the elevator stayed in place.

“Ned has a similar theory, actually.” Peter told you. “He thinks I’m totally in love with you and I don’t know how to express it outside of teasing you or making sure you’re warm.”

The silence that followed Peter’s statement was almost more incriminating than the hand holding. In your head, you replayed every time he had done something to keep you warm. Just the week before, Peter had wordlessly dropped a blanket beside you during a movie night at his dorm. Another time, he insisted you drank the tea he brought to class because he decided he didn’t like it anymore but didn’t want it to go to waste.

“Also quite a theory.” You said to break the silence. “But wait, if you run hot, how come your dorm has been perfectly toasty everytime MJ and I came over this winter?”

“It’s not usually like that.” He admitted. “But I take out the space heater when you and MJ come over because I know you get cold easily.”

“Oh. Well thank you.”

“For the teasing?”

“For keeping me warm.” You corrected. Peter flushed again and looked down at his lap.

“It’s all right. Winter will be over in a month. You won’t need me to keep you warm anymore. Then we’ll go back to being enemies.” He said without looking at you. You could hear a sadness in his voice and moved a little closer to him.

“You’re not my enemy. I just never really liked you.” You admitted.

“Yeah. I had a feeling. But how come?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

“Well, because I got the feeling that you never really like me either.” You shrugged. “Once our friend groups merged, you and I were just kinda there. We never really gelled like Ned and I or you and MJ.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” He agreed. “The only times we would talk to each other is when we were fighting or something. That’s the only reason I kept teasing you.”

“Because you wanted to talk to me?” You smiled teasingly. Peter didn’t smile back and just stared into your eyes.

“I didn’t know how to talk to you.” He said quietly. “I never wanted us to fight. But if we didn’t, then we would never talk. And I really, really wanted to talk to you.”

The way you had felt about Peter just that morning had completely changed for the better. You were now hanging on his every word and desperate to hear what he had to say next. You turned a little to face him better and tilted your head to the side.

“What did you want to say?” You asked him. Peter’s eyes darted around your face and eventually landed on your lips.

“That I think you’re really cool. And really pretty. And really smart. Even though you never wear a-“

“Don’t say it.” You cut him off by leaning in the rest of the way and kissing him. Peter turned his body so that he could slip a hand in your hair to kiss you back. He took the chill right out of your bones as he kissed you as if he’d been waiting his entire like to do so. You pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt and kissed him until you ran out of breath. He had a dreamy smile on his face when you pulled away. You smiled shyly and sat back down on the elevator floor. Peter started to sniff the air suddenly and looked around.

“Do you smell basil?” He asked. Your smile dropped and you looked up to find the source of the smell. Sure enough, taped to the ceiling of the elevator was a makeshift mistletoe MJ had crafted out of basil and ribbon.

“Freaking lesbian instincts.” You muttered and stood up to snatch the basil down.

Tag list 🏷️ 🧥

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @itsemohours

@tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@hallecarey1

@ciarahollands

@nellabella @boogywoogywoogy

[retrosabers]

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝.

FICMAS DAY 5 - UNWRAPPING

A RETROSABERS X PANDAPETALS DOUBLE FEATURE

old man logan x fem!reader

summary: logan didn’t believe in exchanging christmas presents. so, you offer him something you know he can’t refuse. a night where’s he’s free to have you all to himself.

contains: 18+ content below the cut. MINORS DNI. making out, some dry humping if you squint, oral (fem receiving), implied age gap, a dash of angst, swearing

word count: 2.6k

a/n: you thought i’d let a whole season pass without a little taste of some festive smut? absolutely hilarious. this is my first time writing for old man logan, and i think i did pretty alright considering i have yet to watch the movie (i’m terrified of the pain it will bring)

any feedback is always greatly appreciated!

also, don’t be confused by the fact that this says day 5 when i still haven’t posted day 4, i’m writing these bad boys out of order

and finally, a huge shoutout & thanks to the wildly talented @pandapetals for agreeing to do a little collaboration! please go check out her blog and all of her amazing work! <3

FIND HER PART HERE

!! divider by @estrelinha-s !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

“are you sure your eyes are closed?”

logan grunts. “they’re closed, darlin’. promise.”

he’s been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes now, waiting for you to bring out this so-called “surprise.” from the ambient lighting and freshly washed bed sheets, the man thinks he’s got a general idea of what it is, but you’ve been fiddling in the bathroom too long for him to be certain.

still, he appeases you, and waits patiently at the foot of your bed. even if it’s a little bit uncomfortable on his knees.

meanwhile you’re fussing over every little detail of your appearance in the groggy bathroom mirror.

this was your solution to getting around logan’s “i don’t need anything for christmas” rule. you always begrudgingly abided by it, save for the box of cigars that always mysteriously turnt up in his nightstand on christmas eve. you knew he could never turn it down, no matter how much he tried.

logan could never say no to a smoke break with a nice pack of cubans. and he most certainly couldn’t say no to you.

that's how you decided upon this whole scheme. dolling yourself up and donning a new set of lingerie themed to the occasion, knowing logan had no leg to stand on. because technically, you didn’t buy anything for him. you bought this for you. he just so happened to be the person who was going to help take it off.

or rip it off, knowing your man’s track record of impatience and eagerness.

you share the exact same sentiment, though your tendency to be anile overpowers all else. you know it doesn’t matter if you have a hair or two out of place, or if your lips are slightly over lined. perfection never mattered to logan, but it still didn’t stop you from doing everything in your power to be pretty damn close to it tonight.

even if it meant making him wait a few extra minutes.

you pay your reflection one final glance before sauntering out into the bedroom.

he smells you before he hears you.

your scent wafting into the room captures his attention more than anything else. logan’s senses may not be as keen as they once were, but the fragrance of you was something utterly unmistakable. a sweet yet sultry aroma that he ached to have on his skin, his clothes, anywhere, to keep him grounded. to remind himself that you were real and you were his. it only adds to the anticipation building inside, the mere seconds he has to wait dragging on like hours in his mind.

a wave of lust overtakes you as logan comes into view. somehow just the sight of him is enough to send a bout of arousal down to your core.

that crisp white dress shirt he always wears is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to reveal those chiseled forearms you love to have wrapped around you. the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the weathered curves of his face so beautifully. a contrast to the ruggedness of his position; legs lazily spread wide and long, thick fingers tapping mindlessly against his thigh.

the picture of a real man. and he’s all yours for the taking.

the sound of your footsteps padding against the floor grows louder. obediently, logan’s eyes stay shut, despite the fact that the other aroma you carry is hot and heavy in his nostrils. his upper lip twitches with a knowing smirk.

so this is exactly what he had in mind.

on instinct, his thighs spread even further when he senses your approach, hands itching to find their place on you somehow. when your own stay glued to your sides, he takes that as his cue to do the same.

logan really hates to admit it, but there’s something about this little bit of mystery that’s got him going before you’ve even begun.

“you ready?” your voice comes out breathy, and if logan didn’t know any better he’d think you’re nervous. and truth be told, you were. not that logan wouldn’t get his kicks, you were certain of that. more so that you’d be unable to walk come tomorrow morning.

though neither of you would consider it a bad thing

“yes ma’am,” he grumbles in response, knowing exactly the effect it has on you. the cockiness on his face is inevitable when he hears your breath hitch.

tease. if that’s how he wants to play, you’re in for a long night.

with a quiet sigh, you splay your fingers over the expanse of his broad shoulders. the man takes it as permission, calloused palms wrapping around your calves and not daring to travel any further. he knows he’ll lose any remaining self control if he gets so much as an inch closer to the apex of your thighs.

“okay.” you murmur. “you can open your eyes.”

slowly, those dark irises begin to drink you in. his grip on you tightens as soon as he gets the whole picture, a visible tent forming in his dress slacks almost immediately.

logan thought you were the most beautiful women he’s ever seen under any conditions. didn’t matter if you were sick, if you were bare faced, none of that changed how otherworldly you looked in his eyes. but nothing, and i mean nothing, compared to the sight of you before him right now.

you look like something out of a dream. hair styled in a way that drives him particularly crazy, makeup done to highlight your features so elegantly in the dim light. the best, and quite possibly logan’s favorite part, however, is that your lips are painted a shade of red to perfectly match the ensemble adorning your body. it sparks a slideshow of rather lewd images in his brain, wanting the color scattered across his cheek, his chest, his cock. anywhere you’re willing to brand him.

he’s committed every inch of you to memory by now. countless nights of exploring, mapping out your curves with hand and tongue. and still, everytime he sees you like this, practically offering yourself on a silver platter, he can’t help but stare back as though this is the very first time.

especially when that crimson silk is accentuating your figure so nicely.

“do you like it?” you ask coyly, bottom lip tucked between your teeth like you’re not fully aware of the power you have over him.

logan scoffs out a laugh, dragging his hands higher and higher until they tug at your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap in one swift motion. you squeak at the sudden display of strength, forgetting that despite his age, he was still infinitely stronger than any man you’ve ever met.

even beneath the layers of fabric between you, the sheer size of him was impossible to ignore. fuck, and he wasn’t even fully hard. you bite back a moan at the outline of his length pressed between your legs.

“that answer your question?” he quips back lowly, smirking smugly.

you hum in content, pressing your hands further into his shoulders as you experimentally grind your hips. the pair of you preen at the contact, desperate for any form of relief after being pent up and waiting.

“careful,” logan grits out in warning. “gonna cum in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager if you keep that up.”

you tsk in response, cocking your head with faux concern. “can’t have that, now can we?”

logan shakes his head at your antics, eyes wandering back over your body once more. before tonight, his favorite set of lingerie you owned was a black lacy number. simple and classic. but the more time he spends inspecting what’s currently adorning your frame, the more he thinks that red might be his new favorite color.

something warm spills over him when he glances at your chest again. something different than what he normally experiences every time he catches a glimpse of your cleavage, anyways.

“is that a bow?” he questions, a little bit amused.

you let out a soft giggle, nodding in reply.

“wanted you to be able to unwrap your present.”

you can count the amount of times logan has laughed, really truly laughed, on one hand. and as much as it sounds like music to your ears, you’re rather confused as to why he’s laughing right now.

“what’s so funny?” you huff, brows knit together and bottom lip jutted in a near pout.

logan averts your inquiry, burying his face in your neck so you can’t see him grinning like an idiot. instead, he busies himself with dragging his lips up and down the column of your throat, reveling in the breathy moans spilling from your lips with each and every press against your skin.

from the moment you met logan howlett, you fantasized about that salt and pepper beard. longed to feel the delicious sting of scruff against every part of you. as addicting as it is, the sensation isn’t enough to keep you completely distracted.

“logan,” you whine, titling your head back to grant him more access. “m’serious.”

he doesn’t halt his ministrations, too consumed with making sure your neck is painted every shade of lavender under the sun. he only stops when you rake your fingers in his hair and physically pull him off, much to both your dismays.

you give him a look. that pursed lips, narrow eyed “what aren’t you saying to me” look that signals he’s going to have to fess up to whatever’s on his mind, or else the evening would be coming to an end right here and now. from the way he’s about to burst through the zipper on his dress slacks, you know he’s not considering weighing options.

logan sighs heavily. if you didn’t know all the variations of the sound, you’d think he was upset with you. but that was far from how the older man felt. he begins to examine your face, observing everything from the slopes of your bone structure, to the color of your irises. he studies your features like an artisan in a gallery, content on not missing a single detail.

after a moment, the corners of his mouth turn up a hair. eyes almost dopey; filled with a lovesickness he never thought could be possible.

“you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” he murmurs into the air, rough fingertips tracing back and forth across your spine.

you speak the language of logan fluently, knowing exactly what the underlying message of his words were. in reality, he was saying, “what did i do in this life to deserve you? will you ever know how much i love you? i hope you’ll be mine for as long as you’ll have me.”

suddenly his round of laughter from before rings brighter in your ears.

instead of saying another word, you guide his face to yours, connecting your lips in a silent understanding.

logan always kisses you like a man starved, devouring you whole as though every kiss may be the last. there was nothing tame, or tender about the man they once called the wolverine, but you managed to slip between the cracks of his stony disposition, and bring forth all the parts of himself he swore he lost decades ago.

your hands encircle around the back of his neck, logan’s squeezing at the flesh of your hips. he pulls you impossibly closer, pressing the swell of your chest against his own. the feeling of your nipples pebbling through velvet fabric reminds him of the true nature of your current situation.

tonight was for him. his pleasure, his enjoyment. he knew you’d be heavily dissatisfied if he didn’t indulge in what you were offering.

and what kind of man would logan be, if he disappointed his sweet girl?

you’re not expecting him to be so gentle when he turns and flips you over, mouth never once leaving yours. a large hand spread across your back as he lowers you down onto the mattress with a care reserved for you and only you. a fact that adds to your current state of arousal. your legs open like second nature, and logan slots himself between them as though that’s where he was always meant to be.

the whine that leaves you when he pulls away would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the hunger in his stare. those normally hazel pupils now a brownish black that overshadowed bright white. he sits back on his haunches, glazing over your pretty little lingerie with a newfound appreciation.

he reaches to toy with the end of the bow tied snugly between your breasts, a teasing invitation that he graciously accepts.

at a tantalizing pace, he begins to unwrap his present, watching with lustful eyes as more and more skin becomes exposed. you arch your back the slightest bit to get the job done faster, the shoe of impatience now snug on your foot instead of his.

normally, logan would scold, spit something about “being a good girl and waiting.” but he’s just as riled up and eager as you are, and he gives the velvet one final tug that has your breasts springing free.

god you were absolute perfection.

he can’t resist running a thumb over your erect nipples, reveling in the way you squirm over such a small touch. your color coated lips swollen and shiny from his kisses. body already relaxed and pliant, willing to do whatever he so pleases.

a few minutes ago, he would’ve torn your outfit off without second thought and shown no mercy. let the shitty week he was having take control, guide him through the motions of achieving pleasure. but something inside logan urges him to be a little sentimental; take his sweet time on the off chance that he wakes up and discovers this was all a dream.

so he decides that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

the path down to your core was a familiar one, a route he knew like the back of his hand. sloppy, wet kisses trail down your stomach, a small crack in logan’s otherwise composed exterior. by the time he reaches the hem of your panties, tongue teasing beneath the waistband, you’re bursting at the seams with desire, unable to stop yourself from whimpering and bucking your hips upward.

“i gotcha honey,” he whispers against the inside of your thigh, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. “m’gonna take real good care of ya.”

logan knew you were soaked the second you walked into the room. didn’t need to see or feel it to know. still, he indulges his ego and stares proudly at the dark patch in the center of your underwear. knowing it was all his doing, that he was the only one who could get you like this.

when he pulls the fabric to the side and is met with your glistening folds, he can’t help the groan that rumbles in his chest.

“merry fuckin’ christmas to me,” he all but growls before diving right in.

it’s in moments like these where he wishes that photographic memory was his mutation, though he doubts he’ll ever forget this. his perfect girl, laid out so delicately beneath him, basking in the pale moonlight that seeped in between the curtains. his own personal utopia, paradise within the four walls of this rickety building you called home.

logan wonders if maybe he’s finally succumbed to the poison in his bones. because this sure does feel like heaven.

at the very least, it most definitely feels like christmas.

because having the privilege of watching you come undone was the gift that kept on giving all year round.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals @hextech-bros

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[the-boy-meets-evil]

where you belong | kmg

(where the holidays bring you back to the person and place you need to be.)

pairing: mingyu x fem!reader genre: exes to lovers (lite) | fluff & smut rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~1.2k warnings: kissing, smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this, they're in love), that's really it

note: SURPRISE EM! 💕🫶🏻 this is for my baby @gyuswhore for the secret santa event hosted by @camandemstudios. i was so happy to get you and i hope you're surprised that it was me. this was a lot of fun!

tag list: @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harrythepottypus, @okiedokrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @tomodachiii, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @tusswrites, @kaepjjangiya

There’s something about the holidays that always has you reflecting on the last year. It’s kind of a way for you to figure out what works and what doesn’t before starting fresh in the new year. The past year has been a blur of keeping busy and projects for work. It feels incredibly fulfilling in so many ways. All things considered, it’s been a really good year for you. 

Yet, you can’t keep your mind off the start of the year when you and your boyfriend broke things off. It isn’t some sad story of heartbreak or someone doing something horrible. You both just realized, as you spent New Year’s Eve apart because of work, that maybe it was a sign to give yourselves a chance at something different. Both of you agreed that it made the most sense. Life was pulling you in different directions and it felt like the time to really push forward in your separate work lives. 

If it’s meant to be, it’ll always find a way. You genuinely believe that. So, when your ex walks into the tiny little coffee shop two days before Christmas, you take it as something of a sign. You shouldn’t even still be in the city and this isn’t a coffee shop you’ve ever been to before. But, your travel plans got delayed and you’ve been meaning to try this place for months. His eyes land on you from his position by the counter and he doesn’t seem surprised either. Your heart constricts a little at that shy smile and the way his shaggy hair bounces as he shakes his head. 

“I can’t believe my luck,” Mingyu says when he approaches. “I figured you’d be gone.” 

“I had something come up last minute. I was supposed to leave last night,” you say and he smiles. 

“I’m not sure I want to leave at all now,” he admits. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you.”

“Yeah, same,” you admit. 

“I just moved and I actually live around the corner. Do you want to catch up?” he asks.

“Let me just get my coat.” 

Catching up goes from filling each other in on the last year to Mingyu cooking the best meal you’ve had in ages to lounging on the couch and laughing over silly shows. It’s easy to fall back into such a sense of comfort with him. Every part of you still seems to know every part of him. Some things you would have to explain to anyone else just instantly make sense to him. But, it feels different too. It feels like the last year has allowed you both to realize what’s actually important. Maybe it taught you how to better prioritize your time. 

Something else is easy, too. You fall back into bed with him without a second thought. This is different now, too. Sex wasn’t ever an issue, but he wants you to show him exactly what you want now. Wants it to be perfect for you. The kind of thing that you can’t ever get over. You’re not really sure you ever got over him the first time and you want to tell him you don’t plan to let go of him this time.

“I’ll teach you whatever you want to know,” you tell him. 

“Teach me how to be good for you,” he answers, breathless. 

And you do. Mingyu is a giver, always has been. This is more than that, though. This Mingyu wants to map your reactions to every little thing he does. He wants to watch the way you squirm when his tongue flicks against your clit just right. Wants to memorize the way your thighs squeeze his head when he licks into you. Even if it’s always been good, it’s never been like this. It’s never felt like he’s worshipping your body in quite this way. 

With a moan, your back arches against this bed and your hands scramble to find purchase on something. Anything. You try to keep up a stream of instructions like you said you would, but Mingyu’s also a very fast learner. It doesn’t take him long until his mouth is moving in the perfect way between your legs. Only take one comment for him to add a finger. Doesn’t need to be told how to hit you just right with those fingers. You’re a writhing mess and you’re not even sure that you can think straight anymore. He’s got you seeing stars as you come hard on his tongue and his fingers. 

“I’m not sure you need me to teach you anything,” you say after catching your breath for a second. 

Mingyu’s got a bit of a smirk on his mouth, still glistening a little. “Maybe I just like hearing you talk me through things when you’re coming undone.”

“Oh, it’s like that?” you joke back. 

“We can see if you need to teach me anything else,” he says with that sparkle still in his eyes. 

“You’re not done with me?” you ask and try not to sound too hopeful.

“No,” he says and kisses you before you can respond in any way. 

It always seemed crazy to you to think that someone could kiss you stupid. Until Mingyu kisses you like that after nearly a year apart. Until you remember all the kisses for every different occasion. Now it just seems crazy to think there’s anyone out there for you other than him. He keeps kissing you as he settles his body between your legs, hovering his body just over yours so that he doesn’t put too much weight on you. Keeps kissing you as he uses a hand to line himself up at your entrance. Keeps kissing you as he slowly presses into you. The pace is slower than you want, filled with all the things you’re feeling. All the affection and reverence that he’s always shown you. 

“Mingyu, please, I need more,” you finally moan out. 

And it happens like that again. He lets you teach him just the pace that you want. He lets you set the rhythm alternating between slow, languid strokes and hard, fast snaps of his hips. Everything else around you disappears. All you see is the love in his eyes as he takes you in. Everything about this moment is perfect. The absolute best way that you can imagine to end the year. Almost as good as him pushing you to a second orgasm just before he follows right after you.

It seems too early to be awake if the light coming in through the cracks in Mingyu’s curtains is any indication, but the smell of coffee wafts tantalizingly into the bedroom. You’re incredibly thankful that you changed all of your holiday plans to stay with Mingyu. It clearly isn’t just the post-sex haze that has you wanting to stay. Your heart is full to bursting with warmth. He’s always been it for you and you’re thankful that you get to spend another holiday with him. 

So, you pull on a baggy shirt Mingyu has lying by the side of the bed and slide out of bed. You walk over to the window to see what’s making it seem a little brighter outside. Amazingly, snow falls gently in beautiful, swirling patterns. The whole world is quiet and you know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. 

I hope you enjoyed it ❤️

[inphront]

ok ok but i need to add to this, because not only do i think it’s reasonable, i think she’s one hundred percent correct.

i mean sure, it fails to touch on gideon being obviously down bad for harrow and caring for her like hell, but also, harrow’s position within the ninth house has left a HUGE impact on how they relate to each other personally, and gideon’s desire to be wanted by harrow and her desire to be wanted by the ninth writ large are deeply intertwined. gideon herself might make the case that she never did anything for those old crotchety nuns and it was all only for harrow, but y’know, she undeniably wanted their acceptance her whole life, her last words were “for the ninth,” and there’s totally a case to be made that we should take those words at face value.

harrow, like you said, is the sovereign ruler of the ninth. she is addressed repeatedly as “the ninth house” in gtn, because she speaks for the whole of the ninth and symbolically represents the entire house. she also *literally* represents the entire house cause its children all died and left marks on her soul. this means that harrow and harrow alone has the power to determine whether gideon is accepted by/belongs to the ninth house. if every single person in the whole congregation tells her she’ll never be one of them and can go fuck herself, and harrow says “no you’re one of us you’re my cavalier you can claim us as your people,” then she’s one of them and that’s that because harrow has the right to speak for and over everyone else. gideon knows she’s never going to be accepted by 95% of her community. but if harrow affirms her, that becomes irrelevant, so of course she wants harrow’s affirmation all the more.

in other words, “for the ninth” meaning “for queen and country” was just as much a factor in gideon’s actions as “for the ninth” meaning “for the love of my life.” she did exactly what would be expected of a cavalier because she was cavalier primary to the ninth and thus had a place in her community. she sacrificed for *her people* because that gave her the right to claim them as such for the first time in her life. having that kind of value was like the whole appeal of the war hero fantasy in the first place. harrow, being so used to thinking of herself as like. a Holy Vessel for the ninth house and its future, obviously picked up on gideon’s care for her and desire for her attention as the reverend daughter much more easily than any feelings about her as an individual. her understanding of gideon’s decisions is incomplete. but that doesn’t make that understanding *wrong* since the attraction to her position absolutely exists; she *is* The Arbiter Of Ninth House Acceptance and that *does* matter to gideon.

i think this angle of gideon’s relationship with harrow becomes super clear when you spend a couple seconds looking at kiriona, who gets rejected (in her head anyway) by harrow, instantly takes it as a sign that she no longer has any claim to ninth identity, takes a hard left into remaking herself into someone with no connections to the ninth, renames herself, and then places john gaius in the role of Arbiter Of What Community She Belongs To and starts doing heroic deeds in his name (and by extension, in the name of the first house). she not only considered herself to have lost harrow, but the whole community she was brought up in. she distinctly felt the loss of *their* acceptance all over again in spite of never having had it in the first place and doubled down HARD on pretending she didn’t care. gideon’s personal attachments are her sense of patriotism and vice versa. she lives in an empire, so individuals can represent places and peoples. a huge obstacle in her relationship with harrow is the fact that harrow can’t be detangled from The Ninth House Tee Em.

so yeah. fuck man. guess everything she did she did for the ninth. where’s the nearest fence i’m in pain

Was thinking about this line because Harrow what the actual fuck are you talking about, and I realised something.

Not only does Harrow really for real not know that Gideon loves her—in the bullshit context of their lives, this is a reasonable misunderstanding for her to have.

What has Harrow known Gideon's life goals to be since they were children? Hint: There are at least two Harrow is fully aware of.

The first is to be wanted. As much as Gideon hates and wants to escape the Ninth, she also paradoxically craves their acceptance. They're the only community she's ever known. Harrow plays on that desire from the very beginning, mostly by kind of .... well, okay, by negging her about it. Ironically appealing to her sense of loyalty and duty to her house when they both know Gideon never even had that bridge to burn. That kind of thing.

Whether or not she's right, Harrow sincerely believes that acceptance to still be important to Gideon. First flower of my house, the greatest cavalier we have ever produced. You are our triumph. The best of all of us. When Harrow has only seconds left to make amends, she not only banks hard into praising Gideon, she frames it to unambiguously offer Gideon the acceptance she's always been conspicuously denied. Assuring her of her value not just as a person or as a cavalier, but as one of their house, one of their people.

The second thing Harrow knows is that Gideon wants to join the Cohort. Easy, everybody knows that. She's only been telling everyone with ears (and then some) since she was eight years old. It's the bait Harrow dangled to entice her into this mess. She wants to be a hero, to do great deeds like in the comic books. She wants to be a soldier.

Against the backdrop of all that context, Gideon's dying declaration "for the Ninth" starts to sound a hell of a lot more like "for Queen and country." Especially when you remember that Harrow is still the sovereign ruler of the Ninth. From Harrow's vantage point, Gideon could easily be playing the heroic underdog in a war movie. The soldier no one believed in until she threw herself on a grenade to save her squad. The knight errant who proved her chivalry by giving her life in service to her king.

From that perspective, Harrow's line to Ortus makes sense. She's following through on her promise of acceptance, defending Gideon's loyalty to the first Ninth face she sees. She's playing out Gideon's war hero fantasy, where Gideon's act of heroism proved them all wrong about her. In which case Ortus's response, "You are the most worthy heroes the Ninth House could muster. I truly believe that," flows very naturally as a reply. He understands what Harrow is trying to say, and affirms it.

It's not a hero's burial in the Anastasian, but it's the closest thing Harrow has the power to give her. And it's a fucking reasonable interpretation of Gideon's actions that doesn't touch on her feelings for Harrow at all. Fuck me.

[captain-hawks]

oh well... I mean... how about oliver x snowed in? do we manage not to punch him in the face by the end of it?

over easy 🎀 oliver aiku x f!reader

In which domesticity creeps into the all the cracks in you and Oliver's casual arrangement as you find yourself snowed in at his apartment.

1.4k — fluff, soft oliver, fwb, mentions of sex

It’s no good for your stupid, reckless heart—this predicament.

“Over easy? And two sugars in your coffee, right?” Oliver’s voice calls out from the kitchen.

It’s so fucking domestic, the way he says it. 

Like you’re not just some girl he fucks into his king size mattress in the middle of the night twice a week.

Like you’re not just going on your third morning of being stranded at his apartment because your car’s buried under several feet of snow that just keeps on coming down.

Like it’s okay that your heart fumbles meekly behind the confines of your ribcage whenever he tugs you back into his bed to stay the night. 

(That beats so hard it aches when he spins you around to kiss you in the doorway on your way out.)

You’re not dating.

You can’t date him.

Oliver doesn’t date.

But he’s handsome and charming and polite and funny and the sex is so good that you’ve never come so hard in your life and—

There’s no fucking Oliver out of your system unless it’s with Oliver himself.

And if you have some inconvenient feelings dangling on the sidelines, that’s your cross to bear on your own time when he’s not fucking you stupid in the backseat of his car or eating you out on his kitchen counter.

You don’t ask Oliver what he does on nights that he’s not with you. And you tell yourself it’s because it’s none of your goddamn business, not because you know his answer would probably hurt you too much to hear.

You assume, anyway.

But now it’s Christmas Eve, and you’ve lost any and all hope of digging your car out by tomorrow for your family dinner—not that you really wanted to go to that, anyway. 

And Oliver’s humming a Christmas song under his breath while he makes you breakfast, while you stand in his living room wearing nothing but one of his practice jerseys while perusing his bookshelf. 

It feels dangerously, terribly, awfully domestic.

And part of you thinks you’d be better off trudging across town home on foot than bearing the full weight of this walk of shame when the snow melts.

You’ve spent hours on his couch over the past few days, and he can’t seem to stop touching you. He scoots closer if you sit down too far away, places a hand on your ankle if it’s in reach, tucks your feet under his thigh. He puts his head in your lap or tugs yours down into his when you start yawning. He plays with your hair and your fingers—

And the two of you have been making your way through your favorite show, one that he’s never seen, one that you didn’t even think he would like. But it was his idea.

You even went down to his apartment building’s gym last night—something which didn’t feel strange in and of itself until Oliver kept appearing out of nowhere any time a guy tried to strike up a conversation with you, going so far as outright making out with you while you were on one of the stationary bikes. 

(The two of you barely made it through the door back up in his apartment before he was fucking you right there on the floor in the entryway.)

And you’ve yet to examine the feeling that stirred in your gut when you found oat milk in his fridge, knowing full well he doesn’t drink it. 

“Oh yeah, almost forgot to tell you. That’s for you, I picked it up the other day. I know you hate using regular milk in your coffee.”

—and the bag of mini dark chocolate bars you spotted in his cabinet last night.

“Yeah, yeah, you were right. Dark chocolate’s better.”

—and the brand-new, full-size bottle of your body wash that was staring you in the face when the two of you climbed into his shower the first morning, a mirror to the tiny travel bottle that you’ve taken to keeping in your purse for accidental sleepovers.

“It doesn’t make sense for you to have to carry soap around in your purse—”

You hadn’t even realized he knew you did that.

And yet now, as your eyes stray to the Christmas tree that sits in the corner of his living room between two large windows that overlook the city below, it’s the sight beneath it that promises to be your undoing.

Nestled between several gifts addressed to his parents and sisters is a box wrapped in gold paper with a blue bow on it. Your name is written carefully in his handwriting on the white tag stuck to the top of it. 

Your heart catches in your throat.

—and oh god you’re going to kick his ass if it’s some stupidly expensive piece of jewelry that he probably didn’t even pick out himself in there, one that’ll make you feel like you’re his even if you’re really not.

And you didn’t even get him anything because this is fucking casual—

“Wanna open it now?” You jump as Oliver’s voice comes up beside you, his chest against your back while he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s not Christmas yet,” you stall, your noses brushing when you turn to look at him, but he spins you back toward the tree. 

“Yeah, I’m too impatient though,” he sighs, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he reaches past you, arms hugging your sides while he places the package in your hands.

It’s oblong and light.

You’re glad, if nothing else, that he’s not directly facing you to see your uneasy facial expression. Slowly, with the tip of your finger, you begin to peel back the wrapping paper.

White bristles and bright green plastic greet you beneath it.

A toothbrush.

“Be my girlfriend,” Oliver whispers, nose brushing against your cheek. 

You choke out a laugh as your heart swoops. “You got me a toothbrush?”

Girlfriend.

“You would have thought jewelry was a tacky way to ask,” he hums, kissing the corner of your mouth.

You tilt your face into the kiss, murmuring against his mouth, “I didn’t get you anything.”

You almost did.

Several times, actually.

But nothing screams casual hookup gone rogue like a fucking Christmas present—and that was the last thing you wanted him to think.

And yet—

Oliver shrugs, spinning you around and cupping your face, the toothbrush still clutched in your hands. “You’re my gift.”

There’s no hiding the ridiculous smile that creeps across your face as he kisses you, tugging you with him as he walks backward into the couch, pulling you into his lap.

His lips are warm and soft as his mouth engulfs yours, kissing you in a way that you know now is far too familiar to be casual. Far too easy and gentle and intimate as he cups the back of your head and feathers a thumb against your hip bone and nips your bottom lip and laughs and—

He stops kissing you and looks at you seriously. “Oh, I also got you that dough mixer you kept looking at videos of when we were laying in bed that one night, but it’s going to be late because of the storm. I don’t want you to think I actually only got you a toothbrush.”

You blink at him.

“Oliver!”

He grins. “What?”

“I’m leaving right now to get you a gift,” you grouse, trying to hop out of his lap.

The room spins as he lifts you up, and you find yourself caged in beneath him on the couch.

“We’re snowed in,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“I’ll walk,” you frown.

“Nope,” he counters, hands sliding to pin your wrists above your head. “I’ve got the perfect gift already. Have you met my girlfriend yet?”

He reaches down into his pocket to pull out his phone, and you’re met with a photo of you laughing that you hadn’t even realized he took.

And it’s his wallpaper, for fuck’s sake.

Girlfriend.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmurs as he puts down his phone and cups your face, lips brushing against yours. “And smart.” Kiss. “And funny.” Kiss. “And—”

“I didn’t say yes.” 

Oliver stills, blinking several times as he looks down at you with a serious expression.

You roll your eyes as you thread your fingers in his hair and tug his mouth back down against yours.

“Yes.”

A pleased sound of satisfaction rumbles in his throat as his mouth skirts away from your lips, leaving a chaotic, hot, messy trail of kisses across your face, down your neck, across your collarbone—

The smoke alarm goes off somewhere in the kitchen.

[hismercytomyjustice]

Ngl I really enjoyed Via’s arc in Sinsmas. She is just SO MUCH like her father that it both delights and hurts me lol.

Their relationship is an interesting take on struggling to try to break the cycle of abuse/neglect.

Stolas grew up with his father not even knowing his name or showing him a shred of affection. He was a means to an end, a tool. The only way he’s ever received any kind of acknowledgement from his father is by doing his duty. Mastering his powers, entering into an arranged marriage, and producing an heir.

You can just so clearly see how he is trying SO HARD to give Via a different life. He wants them to be a family. For her to never doubt her parents love her. To be the father he never had.

To the point he shoves his own wants and needs so far down that he is barely holding on.

Via going from accusing him of not loving her to realizing that he loves her so much that he forced himself to play the role of a good father and husband. To the point he destroyed himself for her…

And that realization just devastates her.

Stolas getting involved with Blitz was the culmination of decades of forcing himself to be the person everyone else expected him to be. He feels he can’t be loved, but he can be useful. And maybe if he’s useful enough, people will care about him.

The reason his connection with Blitz is so strong is because both of them feel that way. The difference is that Blitz was able to create his own found family (tho it took him ages to realize it lol) while Stolas has always been alone. They’re two sides of the same coin. And while Blitz has spent the past few years healing, Stolas has been descending further into darkness because he doesn’t have that same support.

Via has absorbed so many of his insecurities. Especially the fear of not being loved or wanted despite Stolas trying SO HARD to be the perfect father to her. But he’s not. He can never be because he forgot the old adage of “put your oxygen mask on first before helping anyone else.”

I think that definitely can come across as him being neglectful of her. But to me it speaks to his desperation to be such a good father to her that he tries to hold himself to IMPOSSIBLE standards.

He doesn’t fail Via because he doesn’t care. He fails her because he keeps setting up these unrealistic expectations for their relationship. He massively overextends himself and puts his own wants and desires on the back burner so often that his life is imploding around him out of his control.

He doesn’t miss the stars with her because he doesn’t care. He misses them because he’s struggling to put his life back together after finally taking some initiative for himself. He’s trying to deal with the fallout of wanting a divorce from Stella, but he’s waited so long and he’s so overwhelmed by it all that the date slips his mind. And the instant he realizes what’s happened, he drops everything and goes looking for her.

Via keeps watching him make these promises he struggles with or fails to keep and doesn’t realize until she finds all of the happy pills how much he’s overextended himself for her sake. And because she’s her father’s daughter, she immediately thinks she’s at fault. She thinks he would be happier if he hadn’t forced himself to play house all these years for her sake.

She’s not wrong. If he’d separated from Stella years before, they’d probably all be better off. But he didn’t because of his sense of duty. Stolas’s problem is that he never advocates for himself until he reaches his literal breaking point. By then, the damage is more of a tsunami than a ripple because now his meticulously crafted house of cards is falling down around him faster than he can pick up the pieces.

Via is right that he would have been happier, but not for the reasons she thinks. He did it because he loved her, not out of obligation for her. And also because he is deeply broken and flawed.

Via’s dealing with a lot of complicated emotions too. Her father was willing to sacrifice himself for his affair partner, which she initially believes means he’s picking Blitz over her. But really it’s just Stolas trying to save the only other person in his life who understands him and who maybe cares about him.

How could he live with himself if he let Blitz die?

And it’s not like Stolas has time to sit down and think of a rational plan. He rushes to the trial because Blitz is literally about to be decapitated. And then he saves him the only way he knows how. I think part of him was also convinced that, as much as he loves Via, she might actually be better off without him because he is a wreck. He’s convinced he’s ruined his life and the lives of everyone around him.

I think this is why he doesn’t fight Stella much for custody of Via. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he genuinely thinks Stella is a more stable parent than he is and that Via will be better off with her as a result. The man also lacks a backbone too tho because his self worth is -9000.

But then Stolas doesn’t get executed. And the consequences of his actions hit him like a ton of bricks once the adrenaline and panic wears off. He saved Blitz, but at what cost? And, based on his statement in Sinsmas, it sounds like he would’ve done it all over again if given the chance. Because he’s the one who let Blitz use his grimoire even though he knew it was wrong. Because Blitz was in danger of dying because of him. And because he has a very strong sense of morality and justice too.

Dying in Blitzo’s place was a spur of the moment decision and once the dust cleared, Stolas realized how everything he’s tried to do to keep his shit together has fallen apart at the seams and now everyone knows it.

All Via can see when she looks at him now is that he’s hit rock bottom because of her. Again, not true. But Stolas has tried so hard to give her this idyllic family life, thinking that was the best thing he could do for her. Not realizing that she could see the cracks forming. She just didn’t understand why there were cracks until now.

I don’t think Via actually hates him. I think she hates herself. Convinced she’s the reason he’s hit rock bottom. Why couldn’t she see how much he was suffering? Why would he suffer so much for her? So she’s taking herself out of the equation, just like he tried to with Blitz. If she’s not in his life anymore, maybe he’ll stop killing himself to try to make her happy. Maybe he’ll stop being so miserable.

I think a big part of their arc together has been her going from thinking of Stolas as this perfect and larger than life figure to seeing him start to crumble and now getting a peek behind the curtain and realizing how much of that wasn’t real. And it scares and upsets her that her dad isn’t the perfect person he’s tried to be for her. He’s broken and hurting and she doesn’t know what to do to help because he’s spent her whole life focusing on her.

Not to say that he’s done that well. He genuinely hasn’t. He’s overcorrected so hard that he’s fucked her up in a completely different way because he’s overextended himself. He pushed himself until the illusion of a perfect happy family cracked along with him. He’s also made it difficult for her to know how to help him because he’s sheltered her so much.

I think this sometimes makes Stolas come across as selfish. He seemingly “ruined” his marriage and his relationship with his daughter for Blitz. But really it was just the pendulum swinging wildly in the opposite direction. He was so starved for happiness and connection that now he’s trying to live two separate lives and it’s just not possible and he’s falling apart even faster.

Stolas was so desperate for affection and to be of use that he lets Blitz have his grimoire, under the impression Blitz is attracted to him because Blitz literally tried to seduce him to get it. He also does all of the dirty talk because he thinks Blitz likes it.

I think he initially sets the terms for the grimoire usage because he thinks it’s a price Blitz is more than willing to pay because he showed up trying to seduce him. I think he l also just really wants an excuse to see/spend time with Blitz too. It doesn’t even cross his mind that Blitz might want anything other than sex from him. He’s once again playing a role based on what he thinks is expected of him.

It’s not until Stolas discovers he’s starting to develop feelings for Blitz that he realizes their arrangement is wrong. And the moment he realizes it, he immediately tries to make amends. He hopes Blitz will admit he has feelings for him too, but is willing to step away if not. But he also cares about him so much, he makes sure to give him the Asmodean Crystal so he can freely make the choice.

Meanwhile he has no idea Blitz will just view this as another person trying to abandon him or look down on him. Because Blitz struggles with self worth too and believes the only way people will care about him is if he can be useful. Blitz has a deep seated fear of abandonment while Stolas fears no one could ever love him just for himself. He offers Blitz the crystal to let him know his feelings are genuine and to gauge Blitz’s too.

All of this is to say that I think Via and Stolas will reconcile, hopefully sooner rather than later. I think Via needs some time to process who her father actually is vs who she thought he was. And both of them need to be able to forgive themselves/grant themselves some grace so they can finally meet each other in the middle like Stolas has finally managed with Blitz. Stolas needs to accept Via is grown up now and he can’t shield her from the negatives of the world forever. Meanwhile Via needs to understand everything doesn’t have to be so black and white.

[beneathsilverstars]

A lot of people headcanon that Siffrin was something around 12-14 when the island disappeared, which does make sense. But it’s common enough fanon that I wanted to go back and figure out what’s actually canon!

Lots of evidence and math under the cut, including various things to consider when creating your own hc timeline, but tl;dr:

If we stick to only textual canon, then Siffrin only needs to have been old enough to row a boat, which I would guess to be 6-8. If we take into account the ranges id5 gave for everyone’s ages during canon, he theoretically could’ve been anywhere from 6-25 when the island disappeared. Or if we adhere to everything id5 has said, then he was a “teen” when it happened, so, 13-19.

Siffrin: I ran away from home once! I just didn't want to eat my veggies. And so I took our boat! Got to the beach, rowed away from the shore a bit. I was going to come back right away, I just wanted to scare my parents a bit! I started to row back towards the shore... And then, I...

People often assumes this means Siffrin was fairly young when they left. However, that relies on two assumptions, which are fairly reasonable, sure, but assumptions nonetheless: that they were young when this happened, and that this is when the island disappeared.

While throwing tantrums over vegetables is a stereotypically childish activity, chafing at strict or even well-meaning rules doesn’t belong exclusively to children. There are parents who continue treating their kids the same way even as they grow into teens and even full adults, before they move out or even just while they visit. Which is very frustrating for the kid! So imo it would make perfect sense for a teenager or even a young adult to go, “I can’t believe my parent is still trying to control what I eat like I’m a blinding 10 year old. If they won’t treat me like an adult at home, maybe I’ll prove my independence by leaving for a bit!”

It’s also possible that the event this dialogue refers to ended with Siffrin returning safely home! It’s fun to say that his story trailed off at the moment that the island was forgotten, but it’s possible he only stopped the retelling there because the curse kicked in, just like it would for any childhood memory. Maybe he didn’t get cut off from the island till he ran away for a second time. Maybe he was just on a regular, fully-sanctioned outing when it happened. Maybe he was even with other people. Who knows! Siffrin sure doesn’t!

(Edit: It’s word of god canon that the veggie event was the island’s disappearance, but it doesn’t necessarily affect our timeline anyway.)

I think the only thing this story proves is that Siffrin didn’t leave the island until after they were old enough to row the family boat. Unfortunately I don’t know for sure how old that would be. I did some research and found a couple posts about 6-7 year olds learning how to row, but one of them was using an inflatable raft, and the other was on a rowing team, so I don’t know how the difficulty compares. Young children really are quite good at picking up their parents’ hobbies, so I think even a 4-5 year old could learn how, but they may not be physically capable of handling an adult-size boat. It really comes down to a question of core strength / endurance. Found some posts saying the weight of the boat doesn’t matter as much as the weight of the oars, though, so maybe old fashioned boat vs modern inflatable raft doesn’t matter that much…? So maybe it would be possible for a child to row a small wooden skiff at around age 6-8. Probably not for long, but that just makes it all the more realistic for them to drift farther than they meant to and then struggle to return to shore.

So: Siffrin was at least 6-8 when they left!

Bonnie: I think my village was really close to it!!! My sister said it was all everyone could talk about for weeks!!!

If we assume “my village” means Bambouche, the island disappearance would have to be after Nille ran away with Bonnie, but still long enough ago that Bonnie doesn’t remember it directly. If we define “preteen” as age 10-12, then the longest ago this could possibly be would be 12 years. On the other side, I think it’s reasonable for a 10 year old to not remember a major (but personally irrelevant) event that happened when they were 6, meaning the closest it could be is 4 years ago.

If we follow WoG (word of god) age ranges, then Siffrin is in their “mid to late 20s”, which I’ll define as 24-29. Subtracting our 4-12 years ago range for the island’s disappearance, Siffrin could’ve been at youngest 12-17 and at oldest 20-25. If we stick to only TC (textual canon), I think one could interpret Siffrin as anywhere from 18-35, which would mean they were at youngest 6-23 and at oldest 14-31.

Of course, “my village” could also mean wherever Bonnie and Nille lived before running away. I think the youngest age at which it’s likely for an adult to remember a personally-irrelevant event from their childhood is maybe 5. Nille’s WoG age range is “late teens to early 20s”, which I would define as 16-23, which means the disappearance could be 11-18 years ago. Combining this with our 4-12 range gives us 4-18, meaning WoG Siffrin could have been at youngest 6-11 and at oldest 20-25.

But if we’re only going off of TC, we can say Nille’s as old as we want, so the disappearance just has to be at least 4 years ago for Bonnie to not directly remember.

Isabeau: This article says there's no record of him anywhere... Up until he appeared out of thin air sometime in his adulthood. Looks like he lived in the city of Corbeaux for a few years before he became the King...

According to the change god statue exposition cutscene, the King started his rampage “almost a year ago now”. The way Isabeau says the bit about Corbeaux kind of implies that the King lived other places before that, but not to the point that it’s unreasonable to say he didn’t. So if we define “a few” as 2-4, then the soonest the king could’ve appeared is 3-5 years ago, meaning the island disappeared at least 3 years ago. We already said it has to be at least 4 years ago, so this doesn’t change our math.

How old were Nille and Bonnie when they ran away? How old was Sif when their home got zapped?

id5: Both were teens.

Womp womp, there it is. WoG says 13-19!

But while we’re here, here’s a summary of everything you might want to consider while creating your timeline:

Siffrin must have been at least old enough to row a boat. I’m not an expert in boats but I think it’s reasonable for a kid to be capable of rowing at age 6+, but a 6-8 year old may struggle to maneuver the oars of an adult-sized boat, and wouldn’t be able to row very hard or for very long. Doesn’t necessarily take much effort to get far enough for waves and currents to take you farther, though.

It’s WoG that the veggie event is the island’s disappearance, but if you’re going off of TC, the disappearance could have happened later instead. And a dramatic disagreement over veggies could theoretically happen at any age! Its causes could also range from rather practical (Siffrin is extremely picky and his parents are worried about his health) to pure power struggle (Siffrin just wants more choice in what he eats but his parents just want him to follow the rules they’ve set).

Since the King lived in Corbeaux for “a few” years before his nearly-a-year-long rampage, the island must have disappeared at least 3 years ago.

Since Bonnie remembers Nille telling them about the gossip surrounding the island’s disappearance, I doubt they would’ve forgotten the gossip itself if it had happened somewhat recently. (I think it must have been at least 4 years ago.)

If Bonnie’s reference to “my village” means Bambouche, the disappearance must have occurred after Nille ran away with them.

If Bonnie’s reference to “my village” means wherever they lived with Nille before running away, then the disappearance could be before Bonnie was born. But it would still have to be when Nille was old enough to pay attention to the gossip and remember it for a while. (I think she must have been at least 5 years old when it happened.)

According to id5, Siffrin is in their mid-to-late twenties during the game, and Nille is in their late teens to early twenties.

According to id5, Siffrin was a teen when the island disappeared, and Nille was a teen when she ran away from home.

You can do whatever you want forever, including contradicting textual canon. ^^

[backupaccountt22]

calling reality propaganda bc you want to deny reality and deny the evil act men commit daily. Just few hours ago, a random woman is set on fire by a MAN she doesn’t know. https://youtu.be/1S4SyMsBNSc?si=xeitKjSKoLmYNumf

you ask what do men benefit from oppressing and harming women ? Does evil need reason ? You men enjoy harming women, causing women endless pain and suffering. Hating you men is justified!

you men hate to see women happy, and living life. Seeing women alive causes you men to be raging demons. Notice whenever you ask men why they don’t rape, they say they don’t want to risk going to jail. Not bc they believe it is morally wrong but they fear they might face consequences of their evil acts. Without control and law these men would have no issue raping women and girls. We see online men proudly admit that. Thus wishing death on men, is self preservation.

“Again, you have to say "women didn't do that" because you recognize it does in fact make sense and as I said, it has as much evidence for it as your system does. Nothing I described was wrong or atleast it can't be disproven”

it doesn’t have much evidence at all, you just wrote nonsense! You did mental gymnastics to blame women for the actions of men, and said see women are to blame for misogyny and all the harm men have caused women. Pointing fingers at women is men’s favorite activity !

“I know all of this is lost on you because you are unable to conceive of an existence different from the one youve been told.”

this is comical coming from a male that is using all type of false reasoning and straight up lies to blame women for everything while denying all the evil shit men have committed.

“I know all of this is lost on you because you are unable to conceive of an existence different from the one youve been told.”

all you men are goat fuckers, just recently 4 men ganged raped lizard and then ate it.

“Like read what you've written and ask yourself, would this convince me if I wasn't already convinced? What are you appealing to? What even is the point of this. I think you know it won't convince me. So what's the goal?”

you should be asking yourself that! Read what you wrote, you think you are trying to convince anyone? The only thing you are doing is making sure more women hate men. You know your bitching would not convince me, so what is your goal! the only thing I have gotten from your post is my hate for men increased more. The length and reasoning men will use to blame women for being oppressed , abused, raped and killed is boundless. wishing harm and death to men is only way bc men don’t react to kindness or compassion! They are demonic creatures and should be treated as one. Like I said, my life goal is to make sure the men around me suffer and self off. That is the least I can do for the evilness your kind has caused.

why do women always have to be the bigger person? why don’t men just stop “joking” abt raping us?

[antimonyandthyme]

WHAT IF CARCAR REALLY HAD MAGNETS BETWEEN THEM

/or a stuck together au

“It’s like Eat Pray Love,” Carlos says.

“I’ll be honest,” Guanyu says. “Neither of you remind me of Julia Roberts much.”

“Please just,” Oscar massages the bridge of his nose, “point to a place on the map. Any place.”

“Why China,” Guanyu presses. Of course he’s curious. “Why not Spain or Australia?”

“Neutral ground,” Oscar says quickly.

“Ah I see,” Guanyu says. “You can’t agree on a spot, right?”

“I keep telling him,” Carlos says, always with the over-the-top gesticulating. He tries it with both hands first, then realizes Oscar’s being all sorts of petty and weighing his left arm down on purpose where they’re joined, so he continues gesturing eagerly with his right. “Come to Madrid!” He nearly smacks Oscar in the nose with his hand. Oscar scowls. “We have so much good food. I can show you all the things, but no! Piastri will only agree to get sunburned on Australian sand. We have beaches in Spain, too!”

“Guanyu,” Oscar urges, “a place, now.”

“Here,” Guanyu says, index finger plopping down. Like some cartoon scene, both Oscar and Carlos automatically lean in to squint at the map, and bump their heads against each other.

“I hate you.”

“Hard same.”

“Lijiang is actually a famous honeymoon destination,” Guanyu says.

“I hate you,” Carlos says.

“Hard same,” Oscar says.

“Hey.” Guanyu grins like this entire situation is wildly hilarious. Maybe it is, for everyone else. Oscar kinda wants to jump into the sea, but Carlos will only drag him down, their uncoordinated conjoined limbs tangled and thrashing. “You guys asked me to choose. Look, don’t you want to see pandas?”

Carlos makes some sort of shocked noise. Oh, for the love of—Oscar groans. He knows when someone’s just bought something.

“Carlos wants to see pandas,” Guanyu says, sounding far too delighted. “Chengdu’s like a fourteen-hour drive from Lijiang, that’s totally doable.”

They stare at him blankly.

“Oh my god. Chengdu, you know? Research base for giant panda breeding? Panda capital of China?”

Twiddle-Dum and Twiddle-Dee: “Ohhhhh.”

“Yeah, now you got it. In between, you can hit a dozen other places and never grow bored.” Guanyu taps his finger along the map, tick, tick, tick. “So why not? Complete the journey. Transform into Julia Roberts.”

“And break the curse,” Carlos says solemnly.

“Break the curse,” Oscar repeats miserably, but with his left hand, goes to look up flight tickets on his phone.

--

They discover that the only way they can pull on extra layers is if they yank themselves apart with all their might, creating just a sliver of space between their elbows. It’s painful. Oscar never wants to have to do this again.

“Now,” Carlos yells, and in a flurry of movement Oscar gets his coat on before their elbows snap back together.

Ow, ow. Oscar’s eyes are watering. He suspects Carlos’s is doing just the same.

“Okay, okay,” Oscar says. “Now your turn.”

Carlos waves him off. “I’m not cold.”

Oscar opens his mouth to argue, but Carlos is already dragging them off toward a sign with a car on it. The rental cars are left-hand steering, and it dawns on both of them at the exact time that Oscar will be doing all the driving, with the way they’re stuck to each other.

“No fair,” Carlos moans, as Oscar fist pumps the air. It would be too childish to stick his tongue out at Carlos. So he doesn’t.

A part of Oscar’s a spectator to all of this. Watching with his mouth hanging wide open, some disembodied shade looking from outside in, as his own body purchased tickets, packed a luggage (with Carlos in the same room), and boarded a plane. None of this makes sense. Getting into a car with Carlos, firstly. Then with the added condition that both of them have to clamber in from one side, before Carlos can climb over the middle console into the passenger seat. Fourteen hours of this, huh? He’s going to give Guanyu hell when they get back.

If, they make it back. Oscar guesses it’ll be two hours before they attempt to murder each other. You don’t go road tripping with people you can’t stand. It’s the one and only sacred rule of road tripping.

“I think I saw this in Final Destination.”

Oscar, zoned out staring at the road, manages a stupid, “What?”

“You know that pileup where everyone dies?”

“Everyone always dies in Final Destination.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, shakes their joined elbows for emphasis. “The scene where the logs fall off? A lot of screaming? A lot of swerving? All because they were stuck behind a logging truck?”

“Carlos.” Oscar takes one deep, deep calming breath. “Are you asking me to overtake?”

“If you can, yes,” Carlos says, like Oscar’s the one being thick. “Go on. I’ll help you hold the wheel steady.”

Oscar cranes his neck and glances around the side of the truck. The opposing lane seems clear, not a headlight in sight. What the heck. You can take the driver off a track, but he’ll still want to race.

“Woo!” Carlos yells, as Oscar zooms around the steadily plodding truck. A little clumsy, with Carlos almost overcompensating the steer as they merge back into the right lane, but successful, nonetheless. No one dies.

Mismatched hands on the wheel. Adrenaline spiking for just a few seconds of speed. Oscar finds himself wearing a grin to match Carlos’s. Maybe they’ll cut it down to thirteen and a half hours like this.

--

“Guanyu was right,” Carlos says thoughtfully.

Oscar’s got his nose buried in a helpful English guide. A sense of ambitious adventure appears to have overtaken them. He wants to hit at least three lookout points today. “About?”

“Look,” Carlos points in some vague direction. “All the couples.”

“Huh,” Oscar says. “That is a lot of couples.”

No one pays them any mind. They haven’t been recognized since they stepped foot here. For all intents and purposes, they could just be another one of those peaceful couples, milling about.

Well. Peaceful, would be a bit of a pipe dream.

“YOU CAN PLAY GOLF AT JADE DRAGON SNOW MOUNTAIN.”

“Carlos,” Oscar hisses. “Quiet.”

“You can play golf,” Carlos repeats, softer but no less excited, eyes larger than two sparkling coins, “at Jade Dragon Snow Mountain!”

Oscar snatches the guide back from Carlos’s hand. “I’m pretty sure I just read that the mountain’s considered holy.”

“They let people play golf on a holy mountain,” Carlos says for the third damn time. “I love it here.”

“We’re not playing golf,” Oscar says.

“Oscar,” Carlos says, dismayed.

“You have one hand, remember?” Oscar wriggles their stuck arms, a reminder he didn’t even know Carlos would have needed.

“Riiight,” Carlos says, shoulders drooping.

“We can still see the mountain though,” Oscar says, is alarmed at the tiny skip-hop going on in his chest when Carlos brightens again. Doesn’t take a lot to keep this guy happy. That’s, good for him. That’s good.

They decide the cable cars up are too much hassle, with the queues already stretching out for hours. The mountain’s basically viewable from anywhere, so Oscar steers Carlos toward Old Town. Where he discovers that Carlos is terrible at haggling. Absolute nightmare. He hands over money to anyone who so much as gestures him over. The singular tote bag Oscar brings starts to get filled with random trinkets, from fans to calligraphy pens.

“What’s this,” Oscar says, when Carlos shakes his head as Oscar prepares to pack away two wooden charms in the shape of a very rotund cat.

“Not for keeping,” Carlos explains. “They’re for wishes. We hang them up in the temple.”

“Oh,” Oscar says. Carlos had gotten one for him too. “I didn’t think you believed in these things.”

“I don’t,” Carlos says quickly, before looking away, like he’s afraid Oscar will laugh at him.

Oscar chews at his lip. He didn’t mean to suggest it was silly. It’s a little unfair for Carlos to think so lowly of him. If they could, this is where they’d walk their separate ways and browse different shops, long enough for the awkward tension to diffuse. Come back refreshed and recharged for more time spent in each other’s company. No such grace, here.

The stream whispers as it flows by the stone-paved path. The wooden house clusters look as if they’re linked, hand to hand, a never-ending line all the way to the top. Everything here’s older than Oscar, older by years and years and years.

“I keep an amulet in my helmet,” Carlos says. His eyes wander around like he’s sightseeing. “I don’t know why I lied.”

“A little belief can’t hurt,” Oscar blurts out, just so Carlos would stop looking so wounded. “That’s what I always say.”

Carlos nudges him. “You never say that.”

Above them, a thousand colorful prayer flags blow gently in the wind. Wooden charms as numerous as the birds adorn the roof of the temple. Wishes for health, prosperity, family. Oscar tries to peek at what Carlos is writing, only for Carlos to shove him away so violently that they both fall over.

Oscar laughs as Carlos strains to keep his charm out of prying reach. No easy task, both of them being joined and all.

May the new year bring surprises and joy. For my family and friends, good health always. For myself—

Oscar wrenches his gaze away. Some things aren’t for anyone else to know.

He watches Carlos hang his charm up carefully. And then Carlos waits, back turned as much as he can, for Oscar to write his own wish. It’s simple. Fast car, many wins. Happiness. Oscar ties his somewhere near Carlos’s. Closes his eyes and listens to them jangle together.

--

For myself, patience.

--

Oscar’s pretty sure he’s dying. He’s pretty sure this is what dying feels like.

“I thought,” he gasps, in between gulps of warm tea that only makes things infinitely worse, “I told her not spicy?”

Carlos is cackling like the unhelpful asshole he is. “This is not spicy.”

When you explore some place new, local recommendations for food are a must. Oscar’s seriously reconsidering Travel Tip 101 when he gets fed hotpot that turns his tongue worryingly numb.

“Well, it is a little spicy,” Carlos concedes. “But nothing I can’t take.”

“Isn’t Spanish food not spicy?”

“It’s not,” Carlos says. “Actually, I wasn’t good at taking spice until after I started driving.” He fans exaggeratedly at Oscar’s overheated mouth, like that could even help an iota. It’s so Carlos it’s endearing. Shit. “I only started putting hot sauce on all my trainer’s meals because everything tasted so bland.”

Oscar coughs, wiping at his leaking nose. “It burns,” he moans.

“There, there,” Carlos says, mock sympathetic. “Don’t cry.”

“Seriously.” Oscar blinks rapidly, is it affecting his eyeballs too? His pulse thuds like the hoofbeat of a runaway horse. “How are you not even sweating?”

Carlos winks at him. “They don’t call me chili for nothing.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Aw,” Carlos says, and finally puts himself to some use by waving down a server, and sweettalking her into bringing a pitcher of iced water over.

Oscar calls first dibs on the shower, claiming the need to wash the spice out of his pores. Carlos rolls his eyes but acquiesces, gallant about it for once. They force themselves not to make it awkward. Pull apart for just long enough to slip their clothes off, eyes everywhere but on each other. Carlos stands outside the curtain as Oscar tries to shampoo and soap himself down in the narrow tub with one hand.

When it's Carlos's turn: “Oh my god,” Oscar says. “Carlos, are you using soap for your hair?”

“I’m trying to be quick,” Carlos says, voice disembodied even though he’s right next to Oscar. Separated by the thinnest sheet of translucent nylon. The shadow of Carlos is unmistakable in the light. The broadness of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist. “So you do not stand outside for forty-five minutes like I did.”

“I didn’t take forty-five minutes!”

Carlos laughs, the cackle now almost familiar. “And how are you knowing I’m using soap? Are you peeking?”

“I hate you,” Oscar says, waits for Carlos to return with a Hard same like they’re in on the same joke. Waits and waits until Carlos emerges from behind the curtain, not fifteen minutes later, lips still sealed together like withholding some secret.

--

As designated shotgunner, with no say in the matter, Carlos is in charge of the GPS and the AUX cord. After the second album of Enrique Iglesias, Oscar relegates him to Captain of Pointing Out Exit Signs Only. Carlos pretends to pout about it, but he reclines his seat, as far back as their joined elbows will allow. Closes his eyes, limbs loose, all relaxed. He looks so good like that, when he’s as easy as easy can be.

Oscar swallows the click in his throat back down.

“I feel bad,” Carlos murmurs, sounding like he’s close to drifting off. “You’re doing all the work.”

“I don’t mind,” Oscar says. He’s getting real good at one-handed maneuvers now. Hah, maybe this will be beneficial on the track. “I hate getting driven. I rather do it myself.”

“Control freak,” Carlos says.

“Yeah,” Oscar admits. “A little bit.”

When Oscar dares to look over at Carlos, there’s a smile curving his lips gently up. They didn’t magically learn how to talk to each other. But it’s a start, trading little morsels of information like passing notes in school.

One of Guanyu’s other suggestions had been Emei Mountain, boasting an altitude of over three-thousand meters and some ridiculous number of stairs.

(Sixty thousand, to be precise. Oscar had opened his mouth to complain, but Guanyu had responded with a report of the monkeys that lived in the mountain. There came that dazed, excited noise from Carlos again, and Oscar knew it was a lost cause.)

Jet-lag’s working in their favour, and they’ve arrived before the tour buses can deposit too many people for them to stomach. Ambitions are dampened when they realize climbing’s harder when surgically joined by some unknown force at the elbow. When Oscar lifts his left leg, his right arm wants to go, which means Carlos’s left arm needs to go, which means Carlos’s right leg needs to lift. They clunk around clumsily for the first chunk of steps, griping and critiquing each other’s technique. The fog rolls in and laps at their ears, and for a while, there’s nothing much to see.

An elderly lady pressures them into an early lunch, and Carlos gives in effortlessly, like always. It ends up being the best thing Oscar’s eaten since coming here. They fight over the last slice of barbecue pork, and Oscar wins, by virtue of being slightly better at using chopsticks.

By the time they’re halfway up, they’ve got climbing down to an art, limbs moving like clockwork around the constriction. Carlos takes advantage of their newfound skill to increase their pace to a march.

“Carlos,” Oscar’s not ashamed to beg. “Please, won’t you stop and look at the monkeys.”

Carlos laughs at him and calls him slow. Because Carlos is crazy, he’s taken off his light sweater even in this weather, and the threadbare white shirt he’s wearing leaves little to imagination. Chest hair, nipples. Oscar looks away before he can be caught staring. The fog’s given way to some amazing views. Rich vegetation, more trees than Oscar’s brain knows what to do with. Beautiful things all around.

Carlos’s face swims into view. “Come on.” The tugging at the elbow doesn’t hurt as much as it did before. “To the top! There are giant golden statues!”

The statues are indeed golden. And they are indeed giant. The largest one weighs six hundred and sixty metric tons, according to the pamphlet. Larger, surely, than the feeling expanding in his lungs.

“Look, Oscar!” Carlos points with their joined arms, all delight.

“Yeah,” Oscar says. Quickened pulse from the strenuous activity, and he wills it to settle. Control freak. “I’m looking.”

--

Designated phone time on the bed is an hour long. Oscar uses it to text his mum, sift through photos from the day. With how close they’re forced to be, it’s hard to get a picture without a body part of Carlos making its way in. Oscar finds he doesn’t quite mind. He’s got one of the cloudless, blue sky, the backdrop for the Leidongping cable car station. Carlos is pointing at something again, his finger situated artistically right in the middle of the lidless eye of the sun.

Guanyu’s the one who got them into this mess, so he probably deserves a photo update. Oscar sends it over WhatsApp and receives an O-M-G!!! in return, along with nine panda emojis.

No pandas, we’re not at Chengdu yet, Oscar types.

Honestly, I’m surprised you even made it this far, Guanyu says.

Wow, thanks

Oscar squints, rereads Guanyu’s message.

Wait, you were the one who gave us this itinerary!

Hahaha, is all Guanyu says, followed by multiple peace sign emojis.

加油!

Oscar has to google translate that, learn that it means to add oil. To go for it. Go for what?

“Teto says he wishes he was here too,” Carlos says sleepily, looking up from his phone.

“Teto’s out of luck,” Oscar says, ignoring the flash of something hot and possessive down his spine.

He plucks Carlos’s phone out of his willing fingers. Reaches over Carlos for the pull chain of the lamp. Beneath him for just a second, Carlos shifts, comfortable, cozy. Oscar gets the ludicrous notion that if he were to collapse down, right now, Carlos’s body would welcome him.

Shit. How long until they come apart?

Click, off go the lights. Meekly, Oscar makes his way back to his designated side of the bed. Carlos mumbles a soft Good night. More intimate than he could ever mean. Oscar mumbles something back, and satisfied, Carlos closes his eyes. He likes sleeping on his side. Coincidences of coincidences, so does Oscar. Carlos falls asleep faster though, and it gives Oscar a lot of time to stare without accusation. Trace the planes and slopes of Carlos’s face before he drifts off himself.

--

At long last. Chengdu panda base.

After jostling with the crowds to watch the pandas tumble around for their food, then tumble around to play, then tumble around to sleep, Oscar turns to Carlos.

“Well?”

“Eh,” Carlos makes a see-saw motion with his hands. “It’s a little anti-climatic.”

Oscar barks out a laugh. A joined body part, three shared showers, thirteen and a half hours in a car together later, and Carlos still surprises him. He really doesn’t do Oscar well on a neurochemical level.

“Isn’t this what you came here for?”

“I thought it was,” Carlos says. It’s no longer only their elbows touching. Now it’s bicep to little pinky, pressed up against each other like puzzle pieces which fit slightly crooked. One long, unbroken line of heat. “I thought—”

Carlos tapers off. Oscar waits.

“Well, it’s the journey that counts, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“They’re very cute, too.”

“Uh huh,” Oscar says. “Pictures or Guanyu’s never going to believe we made it here.”

Oscar takes one of Carlos with a sleeping mama panda in the background. He’s halfway through checking if it’s any good when Carlos grabs the phone.

“Come here,” he says.

It’s not easy arranging themselves together and catching a panda as well, but heck, didn’t they climb sixty-thousand stairs with some careful coordination? Carlos holds out the phone with his right hand, smooshes their cheeks together. The scrap of Carlos’s stubble against his skin—that’s, there’s a new sensation, in every way possible.

“Say panda,” Carlos says.

“Panda,” Oscar says, the same way he would say, Alert, or Danger, or Abort. His cheeks are going to show up pink in the photo. And Carlos will notice and say something completely asinine—

“Hee hee,” Carlos says. “Your eyes are closed, Oscar.”

--

Once they get enough panda souvenirs to shower the grid, the rest of the day passes in the laziest of fashions. They’ve hit their goal now, so there’s no need to rush. Oscar actually bothers to look through Yelp for restaurant options, and after all his hard work, gets yanked by Carlos into some random alleyway with plastic stools to eat hand-pulled noodles.

Meandering like leaves on an easy stream down the folk and culture street, the promise of a hot shower eventually calls to them. Oscar, gentleman that he is, lets Carlos go first.

Oscar stares unblinkingly at a water spot on a tile as Carlos hums and soap himself, as easy and as relaxed as if he weren’t stuck with Oscar listening to the way the water hits his skin. The first time in the shower, when Oscar had unwittingly brushed his hands over his dick, he’d jumped, then stood still for a whole minute, waiting for Carlos to call him out on it. It’d felt forbidden, with Carlos standing not two inches away.

To Carlos’s credit, he doesn’t punch Oscar when the curtain is pulled back, with a force that can only be described as resolution. He only yelps like a little pup, clapping his free hand over his chest, before the hand trails self-consciously down.

“I’ll help you shampoo,” Oscar says. “It’s faster this way.”

“Well,” Carlos says, “if it’s faster.”

They’re staying at the Shang this time, and there’s fancy shampoo smelling like bergamot and orange. Oscar douses Carlos with half a bottle, squeezing too much out by accident. He keeps bumping his hand into Carlos’s while they attempt to scrub. The lather gets into Carlos’s eyes, and Oscar has to try and hide his smile while Carlos whines piteously. It’s not actually faster in any way.

“There, there,” Oscar says, in a similar tone as to when Carlos had observed Oscar leaking copious fluids over hotpot. “Baby.”

Carlos makes a face and pretends to start crying again, and something terribly fond constricts the entirety of Oscar’s ribcage.

Towelling each other dry is a whole new learning curve, just like putting clothes on, and driving one-handed, and climbing stairs. They’re looking at each other this time, too. That’s also new. Huh. Carlos is very, very gentle as he dries the back of Oscar’s ears. The kind of gentle that speaks of someone having done this for him before, resulting in an insistence in getting this right. Oscar gets all warm, even with the water cooling rapidly on his skin.

“Phone time?”

“No need,” Carlos yawns.

It’s Carlos that leans over this time for the light switch, even though Shang’s posh enough to have light switches at both sides for easy access. Carlos hovers over Oscar for a suspended moment, and Oscar sucks in a breath, straining with anticipation. The head pat is unexpected, but enough for now.

Satisfied, Oscar closes his eyes.

--

“Hey!” Carlos exclaims. “Oscar, we’re free!”

“Whuh,” Oscar says blearily. He’ll never acquire Carlos’s habit of waking up at eight.

“Look, look,” Carlos says, all childish delight. He waves his arms in front of Oscar’s face. Both his arms.

“Hey!” Oscar says, shooting up, suddenly awake.

“Yeah!”

“So all we needed was a shower?”

“Oscar,” Carlos says disapprovingly. “It wasn’t just a shower. We wrote this on prayer cards.” Oscar doesn’t point out neither of them wrote this on a prayer card. “We climbed a mountain. We saw pandas!”

“And took a shower,” Oscar says.

Carlos sniffs. “Have it your way.”

“Fine, fine,” Oscar says. It’s too early to be feeling all warm and crumbly, like the center of a freshly baked pie. “It was the journey that counts, yes?”

“Yes,” Carlos nods. “Maybe. Maybe it was something I—we had to learn. In preparation for. For—”

May the new year bring surprises and joy. For myself, patience.

Their hands are no longer joined, but Oscar takes Carlos’s, and presses a quick, dry kiss to the backs of his knuckles. Carlos is so surprised he lets him.

“Ah,” Carlos says, voice trembly and a little hopeful. “What happens now?”

Oscar looks down at their hands. Going through all of this to separate, only to choose to stay touching. There’s something about a journey being full circle, but Oscar doesn’t want to finish that thought for fear of actually transforming into Julia Roberts. And anyway—

“Now we drive back.”

They’re not near done, yet.

[hyunsvngs]

𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚, 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 - han jisung x fem!reader

wc: 2.4k

a/n: pwp based off of two images i saw of jisung's boobs in concert and then i went haywire and wrote THIS... MERRY CHRISTMAS !!! 🎄🎅 please read the warnings! 18+ SMUT MDNI!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: ROLEPLAY where jisung is santa for no particular reason, nipple play (m rec), oral (m rec), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (i’m having a white christmas!), dirty talk, overall kind of not extreme but maybe a bit of d/s dynamics (both switchy)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you don’t know what game you’re playing tonight.

jisung’s due back home any minute now. he’s been gone a few hours, last minute christmas shopping with friends, and he claimed he had a surprise for you. you asked to go with, claiming you needed to get a few things too, but jisung had simply told you he had a plan. it’s unusual behaviour for him, but he’s always doing sweet things for you - this could just be another one of those times.

still, you’re bent underneath the tree placing presents in nothing but your nightie and some fuzzy socks. you’ve had to light the fireplace to warm yourself up, but jisung always likes it when it’s cozy anyway. you expect that he’ll arrive home tired, but wanting, from the infrequent texts he’d sent you about missing you. there’s nothing you like more than snuggling with your favourite person on your favourite holiday, even if he does get a little too warm too quickly and ends up being more of a human radiator than anything else. 

once you’ve finally found places for all of the gifts, you’re able to wriggle yourself outwards. with the multicoloured lights on and the fireplace lit, along with your many other trinkets… well, it may look like christmas has exploded in your living room. still, you’ve always loved christmas. you adjust a little santa ornament on your fireplace and allow yourself to lay on the couch, pulling a thick blanket over your body. it’s comfortable.

unfortunately it may be a little too comfortable. you appear to have dropped off, because when you wake up it’s a little darker outside. you hear the click of the lock, the sound of the door swinging open and heavy boots stomping in. you sit up, drowsy with sleep but ready to greet your boyfriend. 

a few hums are heard from the door, soft and melodic, and you smile. it’s nice. you push yourself up, padding over to the front door, and- oh. 

santa’s here.

sure, he looks a little different. under the fluffy white beard and velvet red costume you can catch glimpses of him. a snippet of black ink across honey toned skin when he moves, the sight of his chain dangling beneath the fabric - it’s him, your santa claus, you know it, and suddenly it all makes sense.

“santa!” you grin, walking over to wrap your arms around his middle. he lets out a small ‘ooph’, pretending he’s winded, but two toned arms wrap around your frame right back. “you’re here! early, too.”

“i had to be early for my favourite girl,” you feel the rumble of his chest when he speaks against your ear, and you nuzzle the fabric of his suit. over the time you’ve known your santa, you’ve learned he can be a little sleazy - you’re pretty sure he’s making his voice deeper on purpose, and his fingertips are already tugging up on your nightie to check if you have panties on. it doesn’t surprise you. “why don’t we go take a seat?”

you’re guided back over to your sleeping spot with a firm palm on your back, and you realise he’s got his gloves on too, black faux leather that you can feel even through your nightie. you stumble a little and santa catches you, using the position to sit down and pull you down with him.

one of those sinful gloved hands come up to push your hair out of your face. it feels a little fucked up you’re getting aroused over this, over fucking around with someone who isn’t really your boyfriend, but he meets your gaze with his own. the look in his eyes lets you know that it’s all intentional. “have you been nice this year, baby?”

“i’ve been so nice this year, santa,” you wiggle onto his lap, legs splaying over the side. you receive a gummy smile in return and the feeling of his hand moving up your thigh. it’s sleazy, and you’re slicking up already. it smears against your thighs. “don’t you remember? just last week, i fingered your asshole until-“

“al-right,” he stammers. “doing naughty things isn’t very nice, y’know?! it’s actually the polar opposite. hah, polar.”

his facade is cracking, and you giggle, letting your hands run over his chest. you can feel the muscles beneath his suit. “i thought it was nice, santa. you seemed to like it. a lot, actually, if the noises were telling at all.”

“u-um, you’re not- this isn’t how this is meant to go,” his eyes are wide and ever so brown, the multicoloured lights bouncing off of them. he looks so earnest, almost innocent - if you’re pretending you can’t feel his cock hardening underneath your ass. “i’m meant to- you’re- baby.”

you’re already moving, swinging your legs back over to kneel on the floor in front of him. despite his protesting, he’s letting you, always pliant. his arms fall to his sides and his knees kick apart. his boots make a heavy thud on the wooden floor, the same platform boots you thought he’d retired years ago, and you want to ask him about them but he’s moving your hands to his cock. 

while your santa is pliant, you are too, and you give in.

you pull his trousers down, letting the waistband snap just underneath his balls. the pressure pushes his cock upright for you, hard and plump and leaky, and you engulf it with your mouth without a further thought.

“this is why y-you’re my favourite,” he gasps shakily, thighs spreading further. with a flick of his hand, the red velvet jacket falls open, and you’re met with the tattooed honey skin you’ve been craving all along. he’s built, chest plump enough to make your mouth water, and he rubs his thumb over his nipple while you suckle on his cockhead. “that’s it, my sweet baby. suck santa’s cock, just like that.”

your jaw aches already, head reeling from how fast everything is going. you pull off with a wet pop, and with your spare hand you stroke the shaft erratically, your spit acting as lubricant. it’s all too wet for him and his hips buck upwards into your grip. a sharp whine leaves his lips, preceding the heavy breaths that he lets out. 

you can’t help but let your other hand move down to his balls, running over the taut skin there. his thighs shake, and you pump harder, squeezing deliberately to watch how precum forms on the head.

“come and kiss me,” he orders, pushing your hand away to replace it with his own. he looks the image of debauched, cockhead ruddy red and sensitive, and he pulls you upwards impatiently to his mouth. you’re laying over him like this, tits pressed against his through your nightie, and he finally leans up to press his lips against yours. immediately, the kiss is filthy, his tongue pressing into your mouth with the deep moans and muffled noises he lets out at the feeling of his own grip. 

it’s not long before he’s pushing the same gloved hand past your nightie again, wet from your spit and his precum, finding that you definitely are not wearing panties. he moans into your mouth again, digits finding where you’re wet and aching for him. his lips clack against yours messily as he pushes two fingers inside of you - it’s just a precaution, not meant to be anything more than a quick stretch. still, when your fingers scrabble for purchase on his chest and your nails dig into the plump flesh, he finally pulls away from the kiss and sinks a third finger inside of you. the faux leather is warm from his natural body heat, and you gasp, hips grinding into his palm rhythmically. 

“f-fuck, that’s- you’re stretching my pussy out so good, santa,” you keen, keeping your words filthy because you know how he likes it. as you expected, he groans, head tossing back against the sofa and causing his hat to slide onto one side. his cock aches, pressing against your thigh. you can’t help but rub against it just to be cheeky, and his thumb comes to your clit as a punishment. “o-oh! oh, santa, please, will you give- give me more? i want your cock, please!”

“yeah, of course, my baby, of course, just- get this off? get it off,” he’s impatient, gripping at your nightie and pulling it each and every way until you finally sit back and yank it off of your body. instead of wasting any time, your santa is shifting forward, letting his fingers slip from your soaked hole. 

he slides inside at the same time his pouty lips envelop your nipple. he’s always been engrossed with your chest, just as much as you are with his. while he’s letting you adjust, his hands move to your ass and squeeze the flesh, eyes fluttering shut as if he’s sated just being inside of you - you know him better than that, though. once you’ve readjusted the red hat on his head, you start to move your hips.

“oh, that’s it,” it’s muffled against your chest, but you hear it, along with the deep groan that leaves his chest. he tries to remain in control, hips moving against yours. “this fuckin’ pussy. been needin’ it all day, baby, you don’t even know.”

“that’s why you came early, santa, right?” you say shakily. the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit in a way that has your eyes watering, and you quicken the pace, pussy clenching down on his shaft. “needed your baby’s pussy too bad. it’s here now, santa, why don’t you just take it?” 

“fffuck,” he leans back on his forearms, nodding, eyes scrunched shut. you can tell he wants to take, to force your pussy to take his thick cock, but the feeling of it all is too pleasurable to think. he’s always been a bit too sensitive. you can tell it’s not going to be a long one already, and your hand snakes down to rub fast circles on your clit. “ah, it’s so- it’s so wet, baby, so wet around my cock.”

you moan, moving like a woman possessed, hips rutting into a fast bounce that has him pistoning in and out of you. it’s then that he takes a little more control, grip moving back to your ass to bounce you on top of him. his cock hits deeper like this when he’s pulling you back and forth, and your toes curl in your socks, nose scrunching at the wet sounds reverberating throughout the room. it really is so wet, and you only have your santa to blame.

your hand slaps over your clit just after he opens his eyes, and they narrow, fixating on your pussy. his chest is heaving, and then in a split move, he’s pushing you down flat onto the sofa.

“keep rubbing it, keep- keep going, i need to cum,” he babbles, shaking his head. he’s out of it, and both gloved hands pin your hips down so he can take it from you. his hips move erratically, balls slapping against your skin, and with one hand you do exactly as he said, rubbing the little bundle of nerves until you’re wailing into his neck. the other hand splays against his stomach, almost as if you’re pushing him back, but he’s too strong for that. “it’s- me, now baby, talk to me. talk to hannie, my baby, c’mon.”

“h-hannie,” you hiccup, tears biting at your eyes. “‘s so good, jisungie, baby. i think i’m gonna cum.”

“yeah? why don’t you cum for me?” jisung questions. the white pom pom of his hat swings in front of his eyes, but jisung’s fed up by now, ripping the fabric from his head and tossing it to the side. it’s nice to see him properly, his face unobscured by taunting red fabric, and he gives you a gummy smile.

the sincerity of him, your boyfriend, your one true love is ultimately what does you in. your gummy walls clench around him, finally letting go, and your fingers slide messily across your clit until you’re finished crying through your orgasm. jisung isn’t far behind, and his lips come to kiss your forehead as he holds you close and pumps you full of his cum.

unceremoniously, jisung collapses with another ‘ooph’, sweaty chest pressing against yours. you know it’s intense for him to cum so quickly, and you run your nails up his back underneath the jacket to soothe him. he hums and wiggles his hips around in glee, as if he’s not still inside of you.

“so,” you yawn, letting your nails run down to scratch over his ass. jisung’s hips buck into you this time. “where did the santa idea come from?”

jisung leans back and rubs your nose with his, giggling. “no idea. it wasn’t even the original plan.”

“it wasn’t?” you gasp, attempting to sit up. “then what was it?”

“what was what?” jisung furrows his eyebrows. you groan.

“what was the original plan, jisungie?”

“oh, that!” he slides out of you, and you try not to giggle at the way he surges off of the sofa with his dick still out. “i’ll show you, just wait there!”

you really do giggle when he runs out of the door, tripping over his trouser legs. you think he’s going to return with the surprise, but then he pokes his head round the door, that same wide grin on his face. 

“merry christmas by the way, my baby. i love you.”

[rmview]

he still loves his ex, ENHYPEN.

featuring — enhypen members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of what happens when the enhypen boys realize and confess that they’re still not over their ex!

contents — angst, mentions of past relationships, break ups.

hee ❋ seung

heeseung is known for his emotional depth, but even that doesn’t prepare him for the storm he’s facing now. at first, he’s convinced he’s ready to move on, putting his all into your relationship. he laughs at your jokes, plans sweet dates, and assures himself that the past is behind him. but over time, the cracks begin to show. a fleeting memory, an old photograph, or a song tied to his ex brings a rush of emotions he thought he’d buried. it feels like betrayal — to both himself and you — but he keeps silent, hoping the feelings will fade on their own.

the guilt eats at him, manifesting in sleepless nights and uncharacteristic silences. you notice the shift and confront him one evening, your voice soft yet filled with concern. heeseung tries to brush it off, but the pressure becomes too much. “i didn’t want it to be like this,” he confesses, his voice trembling as he struggles to meet your gaze. “but i think… i think i still have feelings for her.”

your stunned expression breaks something in him, and tears well up in his eyes. “it’s not fair to you. you don’t deserve this,” he says, his voice cracking with emotion. “i wanted to be enough for you, but i’m not. i thought i could move on from karina, but i’ve just been lying to both of us.” heeseung’s vulnerability is raw, but his words carry a finality that leaves no room for hope.

as you step away from him, his hand twitches as if to reach for you, but he doesn’t. he knows he has no right to ask you to stay, no matter how much he wants to. watching you walk out of his life feels like a punishment he deserves. heeseung is left in the silence of his own making, his heart heavy with regret and the realization that he’s lost something irreplaceable.

even as time passes, heeseung struggles to forgive himself. memories of you linger, a painful reminder of what he ruined. he knows he has a long way to go before he can heal, but the thought of you moving on without him is a wound that never quite fades.

jay ❋

jay prides himself on being in control, but this situation shakes him to his core. when he first starts dating you, he’s confident that he’s left his past behind. he showers you with affection, determined to build something real and lasting. but as time goes on, he realizes that the shadow of his ex is still there, lingering in the corners of his mind. he tries to bury it, pouring all his energy into you, but the weight of his unresolved feelings becomes too much to bear.

the breaking point comes when you ask him what’s wrong during a quiet moment. jay hesitates, the words caught in his throat, but your worried eyes compel him to speak. “i didn’t mean for this to happen,” he says, his voice low and laced with guilt. “but i think i’m still not over her.” the confession feels like a betrayal, and he knows it.

jay’s hands tremble as he continues. “you have to believe me — i never wanted to hurt you. i thought i could move on from ningning, but i was wrong.” his voice cracks, and he looks away, unable to face the pain in your expression. “you deserve someone who’s completely there for you, not someone stuck in the past. i’m so sorry.”

you step back, the distance between you both growing, and jay feels a crushing sense of loss. he wants to ask you to stay, to tell you that he can fix this, but he knows it’s a lie. instead, he lets you leave, his chest tight with regret as the door closes behind you.

in the aftermath, jay is consumed by what-ifs. he replays every moment, wondering where he went wrong, but the answers bring no solace. he’s left to face the emptiness of his own mistakes, knowing that he’s lost you for good.

jake ❋

jake has always been a hopeless romantic, someone who loves deeply and wears his heart on his sleeve. when he starts dating you, he’s certain you’re the one who will help him move on. he invests himself fully in the relationship, but the past has a way of creeping back in. memories of his ex resurface at the most inconvenient times, leaving him torn between what he had and what he’s trying to build with you.

the guilt eats away at him until he can’t hide it anymore. one evening, after another failed attempt to mask his inner turmoil, you finally confront him. jake hesitates, his normally bright demeanor replaced with a somber expression. “i wish i could tell you this isn’t happening,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion. “but i think… part of me still has feelings for her.”

the words hang heavy in the air, and jake’s heart breaks as he sees the hurt flash across your face. “it’s not that i don’t care about you,” he continues, his voice cracking. “i do — so much. but i can’t lie to you anymore. you deserve someone who can give you their whole heart, and i don’t know if i can right now.”

you stand there, silent, and jake can feel the distance growing between you. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, tears streaming down his face. “i never wanted to hurt you.” he doesn’t stop you when you turn to leave, though every fiber of his being screams for him to call you back. he knows he’s already done enough damage.

jake spends the days and weeks that follow drowning in regret. he replays your last conversation over and over, haunted by the pain in your eyes. though he knows he did the right thing by being honest, the loss of you is a wound he doesn’t know how to heal.

sung ❋ hoon

sunghoon is the kind of person who internalizes his emotions, often to a fault. when he starts dating you, he truly believes he’s moved on from his ex. but as time passes, memories of the past creep into his thoughts at the most unexpected moments. he tries to brush it off, convincing himself it’s just nostalgia, but the truth becomes harder to ignore. sunghoon grows quieter around you, his normally playful banter replaced with awkward silences.

the turning point comes when you confront him, noticing his increasing detachment. at first, he denies it, shaking his head and insisting everything is fine. but your persistence forces him to face the truth he’s been avoiding. “i don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “i thought i was over her, but i’m not. and that’s not fair to you.”

sunghoon’s words hit like a dagger to the heart, and you can see the guilt etched across his face. he doesn’t try to justify his feelings or ask for forgiveness. instead, he admits that he’s been selfish in trying to build something new with you while still holding onto the past. “you deserve someone who’s all in,” he continues, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “and i don’t think i can be that person right now.”

you try to process his words, but the weight of the revelation is too much. sunghoon respects your silence, knowing he has no right to ask for understanding or a second chance. as you walk away, his heart shatters, realizing he’s lost someone truly special because of his inability to let go of his past.

even as he regrets his actions, sunghoon knows this is the end. he tells himself it’s for the best, but the thought of you moving on with someone else — someone who can love you the way he couldn’t — haunts him long after you’re gone.

su ❋ noo

sunoo is naturally expressive, and his emotions are often written all over his face. when he first starts dating you, he’s overjoyed, putting his heart and soul into making the relationship special. however, the shadows of his past relationship begin to surface in quiet moments — an old photo, a familiar scent, or a song that takes him back to a time he thought he’d left behind. sunoo tries to push these feelings aside, but they refuse to stay buried.

one day, you notice sunoo looking distant, his usual radiant smile replaced with a melancholic gaze. when you ask him what’s wrong, he hesitates, unsure of how to put his feelings into words. “i didn’t mean for this to happen,” he finally says, his voice breaking. “but i think i’m still holding onto feelings for my ex.”

the admission sends a chill through the room, and you can feel your heart sink. sunoo quickly follows up, apologizing profusely and insisting that he never wanted to hurt you. “you’re amazing, and i hate myself for not being able to give you everything you deserve,” he says, tears streaming down his cheeks. “but i can’t keep pretending everything’s okay.”

his words are filled with genuine regret, but they also carry a finality that’s hard to ignore. sunoo doesn’t ask for forgiveness or a second chance. instead, he lets you decide how to proceed, fully prepared for the possibility that you’ll walk away. and when you do, his heart shatters into a million pieces.

even after the breakup, sunoo struggles to move on, plagued by the knowledge that his unresolved feelings cost him something truly beautiful. he vows to work on himself, but the thought of you being hurt by his mistakes is a pain he carries long after you’re gone.

jung ❋ won

jungwon is known for his emotional maturity, but even he isn’t immune to the complexities of lingering feelings. when he starts dating you, he believes he’s ready to move on from his ex. he genuinely cares for you and puts effort into the relationship, but the unresolved emotions begin to creep in when he least expects it. jungwon tries to suppress them, but his internal conflict starts to show in subtle ways — hesitant smiles, distracted conversations, and an uncharacteristic unease in his demeanor.

when you finally confront him, jungwon doesn’t try to deny it. he takes a deep breath, his usually calm expression clouded with guilt. “i didn’t want it to be like this,” he admits, his voice steady but filled with regret. “you mean so much to me, but i think there’s a part of me that hasn’t let go of the past.”

his honesty stings, but you can see how much it pains him to say it. jungwon doesn’t make excuses or try to downplay the situation. instead, he acknowledges his fault and emphasizes that you deserve someone who’s completely present in the relationship. “i can’t keep dragging you into my mess,” he says, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of sadness and sincerity.

jungwon doesn’t ask for forgiveness or a second chance. he knows he’s not in a place to give you the love and stability you deserve, and he’s not willing to hurt you further by clinging to the relationship. as you walk away, jungwon stays behind, his heart heavy with the weight of his mistakes.

though he regrets losing you, jungwon understands that this is the consequence of his actions. he resolves to work through his emotions and become a better version of himself, even if it’s too late to mend what’s been broken.

ni ❋ ki

ni-ki is still young and learning how to navigate complex emotions, which makes this situation particularly difficult for him. when he starts dating you, he’s excited and eager to make things work, but the lingering feelings for his ex catch him off guard. ni-ki tries to convince himself that it’s just a phase, something that will pass with time. however, the more he tries to ignore it, the more it weighs on him, and his behavior begins to shift.

you notice the change almost immediately — he becomes quieter, less playful, and more reserved. when you finally press him about it, ni-ki hesitates, his usual confidence replaced with uncertainty. “i didn’t want to tell you because i didn’t want to hurt you,” he says, his voice barely audible. “but i think i still have feelings for eunchae, and i don’t know how to handle it.”

his confession feels like a punch to the gut, and ni-ki can see the hurt in your eyes. he quickly follows up, apologizing profusely and insisting that he never meant to lead you on. “you’re incredible, and this isn’t your fault,” he says, his voice cracking. “i just… i wasn’t ready, and that’s on me.”

despite his remorse, ni-ki knows there’s no easy fix for the situation. he doesn’t try to ask for a second chance or make promises he can’t keep. instead, he accepts the reality of the situation, even though it’s breaking his heart. as you walk away, he stays rooted in place, unable to do anything but watch you leave.

ni-ki spends a long time reflecting on his actions, realizing that his inability to let go of the past cost him something truly special. though he wishes things could have been different, he knows he has a lot of growing up to do before he can fully commit to anyone.

notes: i think i'm getting a little too trigger happy with writing sad stuff xD someone pls request some cute shit because i might pop a braincell and start writing dark shit

[yassbishimvintage]

Hold Me Close

Warnings: Smut, Fluffy fluff, Mentions of Loss.

Word Count: 9.6k

MDNI! Read at your own risk. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.

A/N: I got a little carried away with this but I hope y'all like it. And thank y'all for the love and support.

Today was the day he was coming back from Shelby Springs. He told her bits and pieces of the story, but the one that she knew hurt the most was that he lost Mike. His cousin that he loved like a brother. 

When he gets home Imani sees the truck he was supposed to buy with his cousin. She rushes outside. “Babe! Babe!” She says to him as he pulls in the driveway. 

He looked broken. When he steps out the truck she notices his arms has bruises and he has a hospital band on his arm. “T? What happened?” She asks. “Too much to talk about, I just want you.” He says wrapping her in a hug.

He’s clearly overwhelmed by everything, and in this moment, he’s seeking solace and comfort from Imani rather than diving into the details. His hug is a way of finding temporary escape from the chaos, a need for closeness and reassurance in the face of everything that’s happened.

Imani felt the weight of his pain in that moment, understanding that he’s not ready to share everything yet, but also feeling the need to be there for him—whether that means offering support or giving him space to heal.

She nods and leads him into their house. He looks around their kitchen. Thanks to the Vet loan that helped them build their house. This was something he gifted her after he got out the Marines. She sits him down in the kitchen to tend to his wounds. 

As Terry looks around, the weight of the moment might hit him. This house is a reflection of the life they both wanted, and now, with everything that has happened, it might feel like a bittersweet reminder of what was supposed to be. Imani leading him to the kitchen shows her nurturing side—she’s not just comforting him emotionally but making sure he’s physically okay as well.

Once seated, there’s a quiet intimacy to this moment. Imani is probably waiting for him to open up at his own pace, giving him the space to breathe and gather himself. She might be worried but is likely holding off on asking too many questions, understanding that Terry needs time to process.

Imani’s soft, reassuring words—“You know you can talk when you’re ready, baby”—are exactly the kind of support Terry needs in this moment. She’s offering him a safe space to open up without pressure, letting him know that she’s there for him whenever he’s ready to share. Her tone is lsoothing, a reminder that she’s not going anywhere, and that he doesn’t have to face this burden alone.

Terry’s response, “I know,” in a voice barely above a whisper, shows just how much he’s holding inside. There’s an acknowledgment that he’s aware of Imani’s support, but he’s not ready to fully open up just yet. His whisper suggests the emotional weight is still too heavy for him to voice out loud. It’s clear that Terry feels the depth of the situation, and even though he appreciates Imani’s presence, he’s still processing everything on his own terms.

In this quiet exchange, there’s an understanding between them: Terry needs time, but he also knows that when he’s ready, Imani will be there to listen. The moment feels fragile but intimate, as if both are waiting for the right time for Terry to truly open up.

After patching him up, Imani sitting with Terry in silence speaks volumes about her understanding of what he needs in that moment. She doesn't try to force conversation; instead, she lets the silence settle between them, providing the space he needs to process everything. Her quiet presence speaks to her deep respect for his emotional state—she knows that sometimes, words aren't necessary. Just being there is enough.

For Terry, the silence may feel heavy at first, but it could also provide a comforting sense of relief. Being with Imani, without pressure, allows him to start grappling with his emotions in a way that feels safe. It’s as though she’s telling him that he doesn’t have to have it all figured out right now.

Terry’s quiet request, “Baby. Can you just come to bed with me?” feels like a longing for comfort and closeness rather than anything more. It’s a subtle but powerful way for him to ask for her support—he doesn’t need to talk, he just needs to be near her, to find some sense of peace in her presence after everything that’s happened.

Imani nodding without hesitation is a silent affirmation that she’s there for him, ready to be the steady presence he needs. It shows her understanding that sometimes the best way to heal is to simply be with someone, no words necessary.

As they head to bed together, the atmosphere could shift into something more tender. There’s no pressure for conversation or for Terry to reveal everything. The act of simply being together in bed could be a safe haven for both of them, a shared space to heal, even in silence.

Whenever something heavy was on his mind he would be the little spoon to her. Him being 6’3 and her being 5’2 was a stark contrast. When they got in bed he rested his head on her chest while he wrapped his arms around her. 

Imani’s gentle touch, tracing circles on Terry’s bare back, is a soothing and intimate gesture. It’s her way of grounding him without the need for words—showing her support through the simple act of physical comfort. Feeling his breathing, steady and deep, might allow her to sense that, while he’s still carrying a lot, he’s finding some peace in her presence. The touch on his back can be both a source of reassurance for Terry and a way for Imani to stay connected to him emotionally without pressuring him to speak.

Her decision not to pry shows her deep respect for Terry’s need for space. She understands that, when he's ready, he’ll talk, but right now, she’s content just being there with him. There’s something incredibly tender about this moment, where the silence and physical closeness speak louder than words ever could.

Imani’s kiss on Terry’s head is a quiet, tender expression of love and reassurance, a gentle way to seal the moment of peace between them. Her whispered words, “You don’t know how much I love you,” are filled with deep affection and the weight of everything they’ve been through together. In that quiet moment, she’s offering him a reminder of her unwavering support, even if he’s still processing everything on his own terms.

As she kisses him and speaks those words, Imani is likely feeling a mix of emotions—concern for what Terry’s carrying, gratitude for their connection, and maybe a touch of sadness that he’s still holding so much inside. But in the stillness of the night, her love for him is the one thing that remains constant and unspoken, offering him the strength to face whatever comes next.

Terry, with his breathing steady and slow, has found some respite in her arms. Her presence is the kind of peace he needs in that moment. It’s as if her love is a quiet anchor in the storm of everything he’s been through.

Soon she falls asleep herself. She somehow some way fell asleep on his chest. His arms made it's way to her waist. 

The soft rays of sunlight gently filtered through the window, slowly pulling Imani from her sleep. She blinked a few times, still feeling the warmth of Terry's body pressed against hers, but as she stretched out her arms, she felt the absence of her favorite pillow—him. The space beside her was empty, and for a moment, a small pang of longing settled in her chest.

Imani’s eyes drifted around their bedroom, still a little groggy from sleep. She smiled softly as her gaze landed on an old Marine Corps t-shirt of Terry’s, draped across the back of a chair. The familiar dark green fabric, faded from years of wear, had the bold letters "MCMAP" printed on it, a reminder of Terry’s time as a Martial Arts Instructor in the Marines. It was one of her favorite shirts to wear when he wasn’t around—it smelled like him, like home, like the comfort of his steady presence.

She pushed herself up from the bed, stretching once more, her muscles still a little stiff, but grateful for the rest. The house was quiet—too quiet without Terry in it. The sound of the coffee maker percolating in the kitchen was the only noise filling the space. She slipped on his shirt, feeling its softness against her skin, and it instantly put her at ease.

Imani loved how it fit her—oversized, comfortable, and a constant reminder of the man she adored. The shirt was a piece of his past, a link to the man he had been before they met, but it had also become part of her daily routine, something she’d wear in the mornings when he wasn’t there, a little piece of him that kept her close to him even when they were apart.

As she walked to the kitchen, the smell of coffee filled the air, and she couldn’t help but smile. She knew Terry was probably already awake, taking care of something or working on his thoughts. Despite his silence about the past few days, Imani knew he was fighting his own battles. She could see it in the way he moved—slow, deliberate—and the way his eyes would sometimes darken with things he couldn’t yet talk about.

She set the coffee pot to brew a fresh pot and leaned against the counter, her fingers gently tracing the edge of the countertop. The sunlight coming through the window illuminated the room in a warm, golden hue, and she let the peace of the moment sink in.

As she waited, she glanced down at the shirt she wore again, her thoughts turning inward. It wasn’t just a shirt. It was a piece of Terry she held close when she missed him, a way to connect with the man who had made her heart feel whole.

A soft rustling noise interrupted her reverie, and she turned just in time to see Terry entering the kitchen. His eyes softened when he saw her wearing the shirt. “You always steal my best clothes,” he teased with a smirk.

Imani smiled warmly, her heart fluttering at the sight of him standing there. “I can’t help it. I love how it feels... like having you here even when you’re not.”

Terry walked toward her, his movements slow but steady. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering as they always did when he was close. “You know,” he said softly, “I don’t think there’s ever been a time when I didn’t want to be here with you.”

Imani’s heart skipped a beat. She had heard him say things like this before, but hearing it now, after everything they’d been through, still had the same effect. Her hand reached up to touch his chest, resting there as she met his eyes. “I know, baby. I just need you to talk to me when you're ready, okay?”

Terry nodded, his lips pressing into a firm line as he gazed down at her. “I will,” he promised, his voice quiet but sincere.

The air between them was thick with unspoken words, but for the first time in days, Imani felt the shift. She knew they were moving toward healing, toward understanding. And though they still had a long way to go, she felt a sense of peace in that moment, in the familiarity of the shirt, the warmth of their home, and the love they shared.

“Thank you for last night Imani.” He says softly.

Imani looked up at him, her heart swelling with tenderness at the sincerity in his voice. She had always known how deeply Terry cared for her, but hearing him express it so openly, especially after everything he'd been through, felt like a balm to her soul. She smiled, reaching up to cup his face gently in her hands.

“No need to thank me, babe,” she whispered, her thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “You don’t have to thank me for loving you.”

Terry leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly as if savoring the moment. “It’s not just about love,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s about you being there when I didn’t know how to be there for myself. Last night... it meant everything.”

Imani’s heart ached with the weight of his words. She had always seen him as strong—unshakable even—but in this moment, she understood the depth of his vulnerability. They had both been through a lot, but their bond was something that couldn’t be broken by the hardships they faced. She pulled him in for a soft kiss on the lips, a silent reassurance that she was there for him, always.

“I’ll always be here, Terry,” she whispered against his lips, her voice filled with conviction. “No matter what.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, his hands coming to rest on her waist, pulling her closer. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not taking this for granted, Imani. I swear I’ll do better... I’ll be the man you deserve.”

Imani’s eyes softened as she looked up at him, her hands gently caressing the back of his neck. “You already are, Terry. You always have been.”

Terry’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift. There was no need for grand gestures or more words—just the simple comfort of knowing that they had each other, no matter what the future held.

Imani smiled up at him, the sun shining through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow on their quiet, intimate moment. “Let’s just take things one step at a time,” she said. “We don’t need to have it all figured out right now.”

Terry nodded, his lips curling into a small smile. “One step at a time,” he echoed, pulling her into a hug.

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, letting the world outside fade away. With every beat of his heart against hers, Imani knew that no matter what challenges came their way, they would face them together, just as they always had.

“Tell me what you want to do today.” He says. 

Imani looked up at Terry, her smile playful as she tilted her head slightly, considering his question. She loved that he was trying to take her mind off things, especially after the weight of everything they’d both been through.

“Well,” she started, letting the words hang in the air for a moment as she moved closer to him, “I think I’m in the mood for something... low-key today. Maybe we could start by grabbing some coffee, take a walk, just... get out of the house for a bit.”

Terry raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Sounds like a good plan. Coffee first, though?”

“Definitely coffee,” Imani agreed with a laugh. “And I think we could use a little break from everything. Maybe some time away from the house would do us good.”

Terry’s expression softened, a quiet understanding in his eyes. He knew that sometimes the best thing for both of them was to step away from their daily routine and just enjoy each other’s company, free from the weight of their responsibilities or past struggles.

“Alright,” he said with a nod, his hands resting on her hips as he pulled her closer for a brief kiss. “Let’s do it. Coffee, a walk... and maybe some quiet time afterward. Just us.”

Imani grinned, her heart lightening at the thought of a peaceful day spent with him. “Exactly what I need. We’ll leave everything behind for a few hours.”

As they finished getting ready, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief—today wasn’t about tackling the weight of the world. Today was about them, about reconnecting in simple ways. A warm coffee in their hands, the cool air of the day around them, and the comfort of each other’s presence.

“Let’s go,” Imani said, taking his hand and leading him toward the door. “I think today is going to be a good one.”

As Terry and Imani stepped out of their home, the fresh air of the morning seemed to wash over them, offering a moment of peace that both of them needed. The streets were quiet, with only the soft rustling of the trees in the breeze and the distant hum of the city waking up. It was a perfect contrast to the chaos they had both been dealing with recently.

Imani, sensing that Terry was taking it all in, walked beside him in comfortable silence. She loved these moments with him—the ones where words weren’t necessary, where just being together was enough to feel grounded.

Terry took a deep breath, his broad shoulders relaxing as the tension from the past few days seemed to slowly melt away. The simple act of walking alongside Imani, the rhythmic motion of their steps in sync, gave him a sense of calm he hadn’t realized he was missing.

“So,” Imani finally broke the silence, her voice soft but teasing, “anything on your mind? Or are you just enjoying the peace and quiet?”

Terry glanced at her, his lips curving into a small, appreciative smile. “Just... taking it all in. I needed this. You’re right. Sometimes, just walking with you and being outside helps me clear my head.”

Imani nodded, squeezing his hand lightly. “I get that. Sometimes it’s the simplest things that help, you know? It doesn’t have to be anything big.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a few more moments, the sound of their footsteps accompanying the natural beauty around them. Terry felt the weight in his chest start to lift with each step. With every passing block, the rest of the world seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of them in this peaceful moment.

Imani glanced up at him, noticing the calmness that had returned to his face. “You look more relaxed,” she observed. “This was a good idea.”

Terry looked down at her, his expression sincere. “Yeah. It really was. I’m glad you suggested it.”

They continued walking, their connection deepening with each step. For the first time in a while, Terry felt like he was truly present, like everything he’d been through, everything he was still carrying, could take a backseat for a while.

It was moments like this—when the world felt still, when they didn’t have to talk about the past or the future—that made him realize just how much Imani meant to him. She was his anchor, the one person who could always pull him back from the edge, reminding him of the simple joys of life.

After a while, they came to a small park, where they found a bench to sit and continue their quiet day. Terry leaned back, his arm resting around Imani’s shoulders as she nestled into his side.

“I needed this more than I realized,” he said softly, his voice full of gratitude. “Thank you for bringing me out here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Imani looked up at him, her eyes full of warmth. “You’ll never have to find out,” she said simply, her hand gently resting on his chest. “I’m always here.”

They sat together, watching the world pass by, knowing that no matter what came next, they would face it hand in hand. The peace of the moment wrapped around them, offering both of them a rare kind of clarity and quiet—a reminder that, sometimes, taking it slow and being together was exactly what they needed.

He glanced over at her. “Someone looks like they went up a bra size.” He smirks. He always joked about her gaining happy weight with him.

Imani laughed softly at Terry’s teasing comment, her eyes narrowing playfully as she bumped her shoulder against his. “Oh, really?” she replied, her tone light but with a hint of sass. “Well, maybe I’m just finally learning to enjoy all those home-cooked meals you keep feeding me.”

Terry chuckled, his hand gently squeezing hers. He loved how she didn’t take his teasing too seriously. It was one of the many things he adored about her—her ability to laugh at herself, and the way she always made him feel like everything he said, even in jest, was just part of their dynamic.

“I can’t help it,” he continued, his smirk widening. “You make it too easy to spoil you. And hey, a little extra weight never hurt anyone, especially when it comes to you.” He gave her a wink, clearly enjoying the playful back-and-forth between them.

Imani rolled her eyes, though there was a softness to her smile as she leaned into him more. “I swear, you always know how to make me laugh,” she said, shaking her head but not without affection. “But for the record, I think you’re the one who’s gaining a little ‘happy weight,’ too.”

Terry raised an eyebrow, his grin turning mischievous. “Oh, you think so? You really wanna go there?”

Imani’s lips curled into a smirk. “Hey, someone’s been living pretty well lately. I’m not saying it’s all the late-night snacks, but... maybe it’s time to hit the gym together?”

Terry laughed again, the sound light and carefree. “Oh, now you want to get all healthy on me?” He teased, nudging her playfully with his elbow. “I thought we were enjoying all that food together. What happened to that?”

“I’m all for enjoying things, Terry, but I’m just saying...” She shrugged, a sly smile on her lips. “Maybe a little balance wouldn’t hurt.”

He sighed dramatically, but there was warmth in his eyes as he looked at her. “Alright, alright. Maybe we can start tomorrow. But for now, let’s just enjoy this, yeah? No need to worry about the gym today.”

Imani agreed with a soft chuckle, her hand resting on his chest. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

The two of them continued their walk, their light-hearted teasing a comfortable rhythm that kept the mood easy and carefree. It was these moments, where they could laugh together and share little jokes, that made their relationship feel like home—perfectly imperfect, but always real.

“But seriously. What size cup is my beautiful girlfriend?” He asks.

Imani raised an eyebrow at Terry's bold question, her lips curling into a playful smile. She’d heard him tease her about her appearance countless times before, but this felt like one of his more direct comments. She couldn’t help but laugh, her voice light and teasing.

“Oh, so now we’re talking cup sizes, huh?” she replied, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “You’re really asking that now, huh, after everything we’ve been through?”

Terry gave her a cocky grin, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I mean, I’m just curious. You look even more gorgeous than usual, so I thought I’d ask.”

Imani rolled her eyes but her smile widened as she nudged him with her elbow. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, still grinning. “But if you must know, I’m not telling you. You’re the one who’s always staring anyway.”

Terry laughed, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Hey, I can’t help it. I admire the whole package.” He winked at her, giving her a playful kiss on the cheek. “Just curious if it’s my cooking or your natural beauty that’s making you even more irresistible.”

Imani shook her head, the warmth in her chest growing. “You’re something else, Terry. But don’t think you’re getting away with that one. I’m keeping that secret.”

Terry grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Fair enough, babe. But I’ll just keep appreciating the view in my own way, then.”

She laughed again, shaking her head in amusement. “You’re impossible, but that’s why I love you.”

With that, the playful teasing between them continued as they walked, a shared sense of humor making everything feel light and easy. It was these moments that strengthened their bond, where jokes and laughter kept them connected, no matter what else was going on in their lives.

“The first thing I noticed was damn my girl thick in the ass and thighs. I’m lucky.” He smirks

Imani’s eyes widened at Terry’s blunt compliment, but she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from her chest. It was the kind of honesty he always carried with him, the kind that made her love him even more. She shot him a side-eye, trying to mask her smile as she shook her head.

“Damn, you really just gonna say that out loud?” she teased, poking him in the ribs. “You trying to get me all embarrassed in the middle of the street?”

Terry only smirked wider, his arm casually draped over her shoulder as they continued walking. “I’m just saying, I’m lucky as hell,” he replied with that easy confidence of his. “You know it, I know it. That’s just the truth.”

Imani rolled her eyes but the blush creeping onto her cheeks gave her away. She couldn’t deny that she loved how openly he appreciated her. It was something she hadn’t experienced much in the past—being loved without hesitation, without games.

“Well, I’m not complaining either,” she shot back, her voice turning playful as she leaned closer into him. “You’re lucky I even put up with you, Mr. ‘Thick in the Ass and Thighs.’”

Terry laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “Oh, I know. But trust me, I’d be a fool not to appreciate it,” he said, pulling her closer by the waist. “I’m not just talking about your curves, either. You’re beautiful all the way around, inside and out.”

Imani’s heart softened, the teasing moment turning into something tender. She met his gaze and smiled warmly, her voice quieter now. “I know, baby. I love you too.”

Terry kissed the top of her head, his hand gently resting on her back. “Good, ‘cause I’m lucky to have you.”

They continued walking, the easy banter and genuine affection between them making the moment feel perfect. Every exchange, whether playful or serious, was a reminder of how deep their bond ran, and it was clear that no matter what happened, they’d always have each other.

When they arrived home, the quiet of their house enveloped them, a welcome contrast to the noise and rush of the outside world. Terry slipped off his shoes at the door, letting out a long breath as he stretched his shoulders, the weight of the day lifting with each movement. He made his way to the couch, sinking into the soft cushions, finally feeling like he could truly relax.

As Imani disappeared into their shared bedroom to change, Terry took a moment to himself, the events of the past day running through his mind. He felt the lingering ache in his muscles, a reminder of his injuries, but it was nothing compared to the weight that had been on his heart. The conversation with Imani, the comfort of their time together—it was the balm he needed to heal.

He reached for the remote and flicked on the TV, though he wasn’t really paying attention to it. His thoughts kept drifting back to Imani. He loved her with everything he had, and in moments like this, when it was just the two of them, everything felt right.

Imani reappeared from the bedroom a few minutes later, now in a simple pair of sweatpants and one of Terry’s old t-shirts. The sight of her in his shirt always brought a soft smile to his face, as if she belonged to him in the most intimate way possible. Her hair was a little messy from taking it out of the bun, and her eyes were warm, soft, the way they always were when she was with him.

She walked over to him, her movements graceful, and gently sat down beside him on the couch. "Feeling better?" she asked, her voice quiet, a mix of care and curiosity.

Terry smiled, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "Yeah. A lot better. I just needed some time with you," he admitted, his voice low, almost reverent.

Imani leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as she wrapped an arm around his waist. "I’m glad. I hate seeing you like that," she murmured, her fingers tracing light patterns on his chest. "You know I’m always here, right? For whatever you need."

He nodded, holding her close, his fingers lightly brushing through her hair. "I know. And I love you for it. You’re everything I could’ve asked for and more."

There was a comfortable silence between them for a moment, just the soft sounds of the TV in the background and their steady breathing. Terry let his head fall back against the couch, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over him. His arm wrapped around Imani, pulling her even closer, as if he could hold onto this feeling forever.

"Thank you," he whispered after a while. "For being here with me. For making everything better."

Imani smiled, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "You’re welcome, baby. You don’t ever have to thank me for that."

Terry kissed her forehead, his heart full. They didn’t need words for this; just being together was enough.

Imani settled more comfortably on the couch, stretching her legs out and resting her feet in Terry’s lap. She was still scrolling through her phone, occasionally pausing to read something or reply to a text, her fingers moving fluidly over the screen. The soft glow of the phone illuminated her face, and Terry couldn’t help but watch her, the familiarity of her presence bringing a calm over him.

He absently stroked the top of her feet with his fingers, a small gesture that brought him peace. It was a quiet, intimate moment—just the two of them, unwinding together after the chaos of the day.

Terry flipped through the TV channels without much interest. The images on the screen didn’t really grab his attention, but it felt comforting to just have the noise in the background. His mind kept wandering back to the past few days, to the weight he’d carried, but now, with Imani here beside him, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

Imani glanced up at him, catching his gaze for a moment before returning her attention to her phone. She could tell he was lost in thought, and she wasn’t sure if it was something she should press him about or just let him work through it in his own time.

"You’re awfully quiet," she remarked softly, her voice teasing but gentle. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Terry let out a small sigh, his fingers pausing as he traced circles on the soles of her feet. "Just thinking. About everything and nothing, I guess," he admitted, his voice low.

Imani smiled softly and shifted, resting her phone down on the coffee table and giving him her full attention. "Want to talk about it?"

He shook his head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Not really. Just… glad to be here with you."

Her eyes softened, and she sat up slightly, resting a hand on his chest. "I’m glad to be here with you too, Terry. We don’t always have to talk about everything. Sometimes just being here is enough."

Terry’s hand slid up to cup her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. "Yeah, it is."

The moment stretched on, comfortable and peaceful, as they settled into each other's company. The world outside faded away, and for this moment, it was just the two of them, together, in their little bubble of quiet.

Imani stretched as she stood up from the couch, her body feeling the weight of the day. She gave Terry a playful smile as she walked toward their shared bedroom, her steps light as she headed toward the bed. The soft glow from the bedside lamp cast a warm, inviting light over the room.

As she pulled back the covers, she let out a long yawn, her arms reaching above her head as she stretched. The yawn seemed to echo the exhaustion she hadn’t even realized was creeping in. The past few days had been heavy, and now, in the quiet comfort of their room, it felt like the tension was finally starting to leave her body.

Imani slipped off her sweatpants, deciding to change into something more comfortable for the night, knowing it would be the last thing they’d do before resting. She ran her fingers through her hair, gathering it into a loose ponytail, and then pulled on one of Terry’s old t-shirts—one that had become her favorite to sleep in. The soft fabric, the familiar scent of him, it always made her feel close to him, even when they were drifting off to sleep.

She turned back toward the bed, her body a little sore from the long day, but also feeling a sense of calm that she couldn’t shake. Terry had come back to her, and for now, everything felt right.

When she crawled into bed, she snuggled into the covers, turning onto her side to face him. Her eyes studied him as he sat on the edge of the bed, probably lost in his thoughts again.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Come here.”

Terry glanced over at her, the exhaustion of the day evident on his face. He stood slowly, stretching his back before walking over to the bed. He slipped in beside her, his arm naturally finding its way around her waist as he pulled her close. They settled into the familiar rhythm of their shared space, their bodies fitting together as if they had been made for this moment.

Imani let out another contented sigh, her eyes closing as she rested her head against his chest. It had been a long day, but this felt like home—the two of them together, safe and at peace.

"Love you," Terry mumbled into her hair, his voice drowsy.

"I love you too," Imani murmured back, her fingers lightly tracing over his arm.

And with that, they drifted off into the quiet of the night, the weight of the world outside their door feeling just a little lighter with each breath they took together.

Imani's eyes fluttered open in the morning to the sound of her phone ringing. She groaned softly, burrowing further into Terry’s embrace, savoring the warmth of his strong, muscular arms around her. His embrace always made her feel safe, as if nothing in the world could touch her when he was close.

But the ringing phone persisted, and she finally pulled herself away from his chest with a reluctant sigh. She reached over and grabbed the phone from the nightstand, her eyes squinting as she checked the caller ID. It was work—of course. She could never seem to get a break, especially when she wanted nothing more than to stay wrapped in Terry’s arms and forget about everything else.

Imani silently cursed under her breath, but she answered the call anyway, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “Hello?”

Terry, still half-asleep, pulled himself up on his elbows, watching her from the bed as she took the call. He could see the way she shifted, the slight tension in her posture when it was work calling. He knew how much she hated it, especially when it interrupted their mornings together.

“Imani, I’m sorry to bother you so early,” the voice on the other end said. “But we’ve got a situation here. Can you come in? We need your input.”

Imani rubbed her forehead, already feeling the weight of the conversation. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in about an hour,” she replied, trying to sound more professional than she felt. She ended the call, her fingers lingering on the screen for a moment before she tossed the phone back onto the nightstand with a frustrated sigh.

Terry sat up fully now, his brow furrowed. He knew how hard it was for Imani to balance everything—her work, their relationship, and everything else. He could see it in the way her shoulders tensed when something like this happened. He didn’t want her to have to deal with it, especially not on a morning like this when everything had felt so peaceful.

“Babe, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” he said softly, his voice hoarse from sleep. He reached over and gently stroked her arm, his touch meant to reassure her.

Imani smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I have to. You know how it is.” She didn’t want to burden him with her work troubles, but it was part of her life. She’d never be able to turn it off completely. Not while she was still in the thick of it.

Terry sighed, not liking it one bit, but understanding her sense of responsibility. “If you need anything, you know I’ve got your back, right?” he said, his eyes meeting hers with unspoken support. “You don’t have to do it all on your own.”

Imani nodded, her heart swelling with affection for him. He was always her rock, the one she could count on no matter what. But sometimes, it still felt like she had to carry the weight of everything herself.

“I know,” she said, her voice soft but grateful. “Thanks, Terry.”

With a final kiss on his lips, she stood up from the bed and moved toward the closet. She knew she had to get ready, but she could already feel the heaviness of the day settling in. Terry’s gaze followed her as she began to change into something more presentable, his thoughts drifting back to what had happened the day before—the weight of everything that had been on his mind. But he pushed it aside for now. Right now, his focus was on Imani.

At her desk, Imani sat back in her chair with a long, deep sigh. The weight of the morning hung on her shoulders as she tried to focus on the work in front of her, but her mind kept drifting back to Terry. She glanced around her office, taking in the familiar surroundings, but there was only one thing that really caught her eye: a picture on the corner of her desk.

It was her favorite photo of the two of them—a moment from their trip to Disney. In it, Terry stood with his lips gently pressed against her forehead, his strong bicep practically taking up the entire side of the picture. She smiled at the memory. He had always been protective of her in such a comforting, effortless way, and that moment, captured in time, had reminded her of everything she loved about him.

Imani picked up the photo frame, her fingers tracing the edge of the glass. She could almost feel the warmth of Terry’s embrace again, the way his arms had felt around her as they wandered through the park, laughing at the silliest things. It was one of those rare, perfect days when everything seemed to fall into place.

As she stared at the picture, the weight of the phone call from earlier began to resurface. There was a sense of duty that she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she wanted to. But at the same time, the photo reminded her of the life she was building with Terry, of the support he always offered, even when she felt like she was carrying the world on her shoulders.

“Why can’t every day be like that?” she muttered to herself, setting the frame back down on the desk.

But the reality of her responsibilities wasn’t going to wait. She could feel the pull of work demanding her attention, and she couldn’t ignore the fact that there were lives depending on her input. She let out another sigh, this time with more resolve, and shifted her focus to the task at hand.

Just before she dove back into her work, Imani took a moment to close her eyes and think of Terry. She didn’t need to see him right now to feel his presence. It was there, in everything she did. She knew, without a doubt, that he was her rock—the one person who would never let her fall, no matter how heavy the world felt.

With a deep breath, she turned her attention to her computer screen, putting the personal distractions aside for a moment. But in the back of her mind, she knew she would be counting down the hours until she could see Terry again, find solace in his arms, and steal back some of those small moments of peace.

As the day dragged on, Imani found herself losing track of time. The calls, emails, and never-ending meetings seemed to blur together. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Terry, to the peacefulness of the morning before everything had to be put on hold. But now, sitting at her desk, she couldn’t shake the exhaustion that had begun to settle in her bones.

Her phone buzzed, cutting through the monotony of the office. She glanced down and saw Terry’s name lighting up the screen. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she unlocked her phone.

“What’s for dinner tonight? I’m thinking something simple, but I’ll make it good. How’s your day going?”

Imani chuckled softly, his familiar voice even in text making her feel a little lighter. It was exactly what she needed—a reminder of her life outside of the office. She quickly typed back, trying to keep the conversation casual despite the stress of her day.

“It’s dragging on. I swear, time moves slower when I’m stuck in here. But I’m looking forward to dinner. You’re the best at making the simple things feel special.”

She hit send, feeling the weight of the workday slowly lifting off her shoulders, replaced by the warmth of anticipation. She didn't know what Terry had planned for dinner, but just the thought of him taking care of her, of them sitting down together at the end of the day, made her feel grounded.

A few moments later, his reply came through:

“I’ve got us covered. Just relax when you get home, babe. You’ve earned it.”

Imani smiled, feeling a flutter of affection for him. He always knew how to make her feel seen, even when she was buried under piles of work. She glanced at the clock, realizing the day was almost over. Her energy had been drained, but knowing Terry would be there when she got home filled her with a sense of calm she hadn’t realized she was missing.

“I’ll be home soon. Can't wait to see you.”

She placed her phone down, taking a moment to breathe. The stress of the day hadn’t fully disappeared, but now, with the thought of Terry waiting for her, it didn’t seem quite as heavy.

-

As Imani stepped through the front door, the familiar scent of garlic, herbs, and rich tomato sauce filled the air. Her senses immediately relaxed, and her stomach growled in response. She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply—lasagna. Terry knew exactly how to comfort her after a long day.

She slipped off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen, where she found him standing by the stove, the oven door open and the lasagna just about ready. Terry, wearing a faded T-shirt and his usual relaxed jeans, was humming softly to himself as he prepared the final touches.

Imani leaned against the doorframe, watching him for a moment. The sight of him always grounded her. The way he moved, calm and steady, even in the kitchen, was just one of the many things she adored about him. And tonight, he was making her favorite dish—he always pulled out all the stops when he knew she'd had a hard day.

Terry looked up, a soft smile forming on his face when he saw her. "Welcome home, baby," he said, his voice warm and full of affection. "Lasagna’s almost ready."

Imani couldn’t help but smile back as she walked toward him, reaching up to kiss his cheek. "You’re the best," she murmured, her hands finding his waist as she settled against him. "This smells incredible."

He chuckled softly, pulling her in for a brief hug before letting her go. "Figured you’d need some comfort food," he said, his eyes softening as they met hers. "I know how much you love it."

She leaned back slightly, looking up at him, her gaze softening with a mix of appreciation and love. "You always know just what I need," she said quietly, her fingers tracing the lines of his shirt.

Terry smiled, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "I just want you to feel good. You deserve it after the kind of day you’ve had."

Imani felt a warmth spread through her chest. She was lucky—lucky to have him by her side, always ready to care for her in ways big and small. "I feel good now," she said softly, her lips curving into a smile.

He stepped back toward the oven, pulling the lasagna out and setting it on the counter to cool. "Dinner’s served. I’ll get us some wine."

Imani pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, settling into it as she watched Terry move about. The simple, comforting normalcy of the moment was exactly what she needed. After everything that had been on her mind today, this felt like home—Terry, the food, the quiet after a busy day.

When he returned with two glasses of wine, he set one in front of her before taking a seat across from her. They exchanged a quiet, knowing look, the kind of look that passed between them after years of being together. She lifted her glass in a small toast. "To us," she said softly.

Terry clinked his glass against hers. "To us," he agreed, his voice low and full of meaning.

The rest of the evening passed by peacefully as they enjoyed their meal, the quiet hum of conversation and laughter filling the room. Imani let herself unwind, the weight of the day slowly lifting as she soaked in the comfort of Terry’s presence.

After finishing their meal, the warmth of the evening lingered in the air as Imani moved toward the living room. Terry was already on the couch, casually reclined and looking more relaxed than he had in days. The easygoing comfort of their home was just what he needed, and she couldn’t help but smile as she walked over to him.

Imani moved in closer, feeling the subtle pull between them. Without saying a word, she straddled his lap, settling herself comfortably against him. The contact was familiar and reassuring. Terry’s eyes softened as he met her gaze, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Well, hello there,” he said, his voice low and warm, clearly enjoying the closeness between them.

Imani smirked and leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “I thought I’d come keep you company.” Her hands gently rested on his shoulders, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath her touch. She could tell he was enjoying the way they fit together—his big, solid frame supporting her as she straddled him.

Terry’s hands slid down to her waist, pulling her in just a little closer. His smile deepened as he looked at her, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her back. “You always know how to make me feel like the luckiest guy in the world,” he said softly, his voice thick with affection.

Imani grinned, feeling a flutter of warmth in her chest. “You’re pretty lucky,” she teased, before capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. It was soft at first, their lips barely grazing, savoring the comfort of being so close.

Terry’s hands tightened around her waist, deepening the kiss, his lips moving against hers with a mix of passion and tenderness. As they kissed, Imani felt all the stress of the day melt away. There was something so grounding about being with him, about the way he always seemed to know exactly what she needed—whether it was a comforting dinner or the quiet intimacy they shared now.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, she rested her forehead against his. “I missed you today,” she whispered, her voice quiet, filled with the weight of her emotions.

“I missed you too,” he murmured back, his thumb lightly caressing her cheek. “You know I can’t stand being apart from you.”

Imani smiled softly, leaning in to kiss him again. This was their moment, a space where everything else in the world faded away, leaving just the two of them—together, as they always were.

Imani deepened the kiss, her lips moving with a sense of urgency, feeling the tension that had been building between them all day. She pulled back for a moment, her eyes searching his before she slowly began to tug at the hem of his shirt. There was a familiar pull between them, a silent understanding of how they both needed this closeness, this connection.

Terry’s hands moved to help her, lifting his arms so she could pull the shirt off with ease. As she slid it over his head, she couldn’t help but admire the sight of his strong, sculpted chest. The muscles that had always impressed her now seemed even more alluring, and she couldn’t resist running her fingers lightly across his skin, feeling the heat of his body.

Terry’s breath hitched slightly at her touch, his hands sliding down her back as she moved closer to him. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he said, his voice a mix of admiration and desire.

Imani smiled, her lips brushing against his as she leaned in again. “I know,” she whispered, her hands sliding to the waistband of his sweatpants. She paused for just a moment, savoring the intensity of the moment, before she slowly began to remove them, leaving him in just his boxers.

Terry’s hands moved to her shirt, the desire in his eyes clear. He helped her take it off, his lips brushing along her jawline, savoring the warmth of her skin. “You’re perfect,” he murmured as his lips found her neck, planting soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin there.

Imani let out a soft sigh, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him back up to kiss him again. This kiss was different—deeper, more intense—as if the both of them had been holding back for too long and now the floodgates had opened. She pressed her body closer to his, feeling the heat of his skin against hers, the intensity of their connection growing with each passing second.

Terry’s hands were steady, guiding hers to the waistband of his sweats as his voice dropped to a low, heated whisper. The intensity in his eyes made it clear how much he wanted her, how he craved this moment with her. His fingers lightly brushed against hers, urging her forward, while his lips hovered just above her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Imani’s heart raced at the sound of his voice. She could feel the same anticipation swirling between them, the way their bodies responded to each other’s touch. Her fingers moved to the waistband of his sweats, hesitating for just a moment, before she met his gaze.

Her eyes locked onto his, filled with desire and an unspoken understanding. “I want you,” she whispered, her breath catching in her throat. She let her hands slide into the waistband of his sweats, her fingertips grazing his skin as she slowly pulled them down, taking her time, savoring the tension that built between them with every small movement.

As she worked, Terry’s hands slid to her waist, guiding her back down to his lap. His lips found hers once more, gentle but urgent, as if time had slowed and they had all the space in the world to explore one another. His touch was tender yet firm, his hands tracing the curve of her back before moving to her thighs, pulling her closer, if that was even possible.

“I’m yours,” he said softly between kisses, the words a promise and a plea, all wrapped into one.

Imani leaned into him, her fingers still teasing the waistband of his sweats, before finally pushing them down and off. She couldn’t resist trailing her fingers over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under her touch. She felt safe, secure, and loved in his arms, and as their connection deepened, the world outside of them faded away.

Terry’s breath hitched as Imani lowered his sweats, his body reacting to the closeness of hers, to the intimate moment they were sharing. He looked at her, his expression soft but full of longing.

"Babe..." she said softly, her voice laced with affection and something deeper, a hunger that matched his own.

He reached for her, his hands brushing against her sides as he pulled her closer, his lips brushing over her forehead before trailing down to her lips. "You don’t know how badly I want you," he murmured, his voice rough but filled with love and passion.

Imani felt the weight of his words, her own desire for him reflecting in her gaze. She let her hands roam over his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath her touch. She knew exactly what he needed, what they both needed, and without hesitation, she let her lips meet his again, this time with more urgency, as if they both had been waiting for this moment far too long.

Terry responded instantly, his hands finding her hips and pulling her closer to him, pressing her body against his. The contact was electric, and for a moment, all they could feel was the heat between them, the way their bodies fit together so perfectly.

He pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against hers, breathing heavily. "I love you so much, Imani. You’re everything to me," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Imani smiled softly, tracing the outline of his jaw with her fingers. "I love you too, Terry. More than you know," she whispered back, before leaning in to kiss him once more, letting their connection deepen further.

Terry’s hands settled at the waistband of Imani’s pajama pants, his fingers brushing the soft fabric as he looked up at her, his gaze filled with a mixture of love and desire. The room seemed to quiet around them, leaving only the sound of their breathing as they shared this intimate space.

Imani met his gaze, her own eyes dark with longing. She could feel the heat between them, an unspoken understanding passing between them as he slowly began to slip the pants off her hips. His touch was gentle, yet there was an undeniable urgency in the way he moved, a sense that they had both been waiting for this moment for too long.

She helped him, lifting her hips slightly to allow him to pull them down, and as the fabric slid off her body, her bare skin brushed against his, sending a shiver through her.

Terry paused for a moment, his hands resting on her bare thighs as he looked at her, his breath shaky. "You’re beautiful, Imani. Absolutely perfect," he whispered, his voice low and filled with awe.

Imani smiled softly, her hands reaching up to run through his hair, her fingers gently tugging him closer. "I’m yours, Terry. Always have been, always will be," she whispered back, her voice full of love and trust.

With that, Terry leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was as tender as it was passionate. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her close as their bodies pressed together. In that moment, there was no past, no future—just the here and now, the two of them wrapped up in each other.

He gently leaned her back into the pillows, leaving a trail of wet kisses down her body. She inhaled at the sensation. “Tonight, I’m going to make you scream my name.” he says as he makes his way down.

True to word he kept his promise. 

The next morning, Imani woke up with a contented sigh, the warmth of Terry's body still radiating against hers. She could feel the tenderness in her muscles, a reminder of the passion they had shared the night before. Her body was sore, but in the best possible way, a familiar feeling she had come to associate with their most intimate moments together.

Terry was still asleep, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close. His steady breathing and the comforting weight of his arm made her feel safe, loved, and cherished. She couldn't help but smile as she traced a finger along his arm, her thoughts drifting back to the night they had just shared.

She felt a wave of affection for him, a deep love that ran so much deeper than the physical. Terry was her rock, the person who had stood by her side through thick and thin, and even on mornings like this, when she was sore and exhausted, she felt nothing but gratitude for the man in her life.

Imani shifted slightly, careful not to disturb him, and snuggled deeper into his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat lull her back into a peaceful moment of quiet intimacy.

Tags 🏷️ :

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayaesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @notpradagurl7

[thedissonantverses]

I think if you genuinely want the Veil to come down despite it making zero sense then what you want is an easy solution and emotional catharsis for yourself. Or Solas I guess? Lavellan? I’m still confused about who this is supposed to help. It’s not good writing and it’s not how you fix major problems. If we got rid of big oil tomorrow we’d still have centuries of work ahead of us to fix the damage we’ve done to the planet. The U.S. Civil War didn’t fix our colonialism problem now did it?

It doesn’t make any kind of sense narratively. We know it’ll force spirits to change their nature and become demons out of shock because we’ve seen it happen before. Demons who then kill people and are killed in return. The empire Solas wants to restore is gone. Its people are dead. It was built on the bodies of a sapient race by slaves(sound familiar?)

Tearing down the Veil would kill thousands of innocents including elves. How do you think that’s going to go over on a practical level? Who’s going to want to live in an empire built on the bodies of their friends and families? Again this is just colonialism with magic.

Real change is hard and takes work. It never stops. It’s incremental and you might never be thanked for it and you have to show up and do it anyways. It’s never, ever easy. Which yeah, I know, it’s a video game. But don’t claim you want revolutionary writing without understanding what the actually means.