#and so many more! things i don’t know how to put into words!!

[covenofagatha]

Do I wanna know? (Part 1)

Sequel to But you're my stepmom!

Picks up a few months later after your dad and Agatha get divorced and you've started college

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: fingering, mommy kink, slight angst

Fuck. You do not want to do this. 

It’s a Saturday night and you’re here. You should’ve said you had anywhere else to be, but instead, your car almost gets hit as you turn the corner in possibly the narrowest parking garage you’ve ever been in. It makes you swear and you stomp on the brakes so quickly you think you might have a bruise from the seatbelt. 

But luckily, you find a spot on the first floor and squeeze between two other cars, muttering a silent prayer that you don’t scrape against them.

You wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans as you get out and walk into the lobby of the apartment complex. 

It’s nice, although you hate to admit it. You would surely not mind spending more time here if it didn’t mean having to see—

“Hey, sweet pea!” 

Him. You look to your right and plaster on a fake smile when you see your father standing there, slipping his phone into his pocket. 

“Hey,” you say softly, awkwardly patting his back with a hand as he embraces you. 

He had been asking to get dinner with you at least once a week for the past few months since he and Agatha got divorced. You’ve always found an excuse to get out of it — you had homework, you had exams, you had to work over the summer and you were so tired — but now that it’s your first weekend in college and he knows that you don’t have anything going on, he insisted. 

Plus your mom had sort of asked for you to go at least once. Your dad has been sending you updates about his apartment search and random internet posts that he found funny, and having lived at home all summer, you’ve kept your mom in the loop. She is still obsessed with him, always finding ways to bring him up in conversation, and you wish you were brave enough to tell her to just move on. She was absolutely ecstatic when you broke the news about him and Agatha and she’s been pressing you for updates ever since. 

Part of the reason she wanted you to go see him was to scope out his new place and see if there was any sign of a new woman. There was still no sign about the lady he was having an affair with, so you weren’t sure if things had ended. 

And when he moved out the first time, he took your mom’s can opener and she still won’t let it go. Before you left, she texted you that if you saw it, you should steal it back. 

After the divorce went through, your dad had decided to sell the house and look for an apartment a little closer to his work, and he’s lived in this place for about a month now. 

“How are you? How’s it going?” he asks as he leads you to the elevator. He presses his fob to the button inside and then floor six. You remember him being so consumed with having one of the top floors, like that would make him seem more important. 

You shrug and pick at the peeling skin on your fingers. It’s a bad habit — one of your many. “Pretty good. Syllabus week has been a breeze. Made some new friends.”

“Classes seem like they’ll be fun?” he asks. 

“Yeah, I hope so.” 

And then a tense silence falls over the both of you. You haven’t actually seen him since your graduation, which was a whole other level of awkward with your mom there too, and you both know that the two affairs and two divorces has put a strain on your relationship.

It does hurt a little. You wish there was a way you could reach over the cold gap between you and go back to how things were when you were a kid, when you actually liked being around him. 

But too much has happened. 

“Well, I’m really glad you were able to come down for dinner,” he says and you smile tightly. “I can’t wait to show you the place and then we can get whatever you want to eat.” 

The elevator dings and you follow him to an apartment a few doors down and he unlocks the door and lets you go first. 

The floors are a laminate gray, the counters in the kitchen marble white with black pendant lights over the peninsula. The refrigerator is stainless steel and there’s a completely stocked wine cooler fridge built into the cabinets next to the stove. You walk past the kitchen into the living room where the couches from his and Agatha’s house are set up around an entertainment center with a fireplace and a blue rug under the coffee table. 

“What do you think?” he asks, stepping next to you and putting an arm around your shoulders to bring you in close to him. 

You take his fancy bachelor pad in again. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice. Maybe just pizza for dinner? We can order and watch a show or something?”

Staying in and having the television as a buffer is a much better plan than going out and having to make small talk that will end up with him on his phone anyway. He agrees and calls to order the pizza while you perch on the couch and scroll on your phone. You already have a text from your mom telling you to call her when you’re done and your chest tightens at the thought of all the shit she’s going to say. It’s fucking exhausting still being in the middle of this — you really thought it would get better, especially now that you’re in college. And yet, here you are. 

“So…” your dad starts, plopping down next to you with a groan once he gets off the phone. He grabs the remote and turns the TV on. “You like your roommate?”

Your roommate, Alice Wu, is a sweet girl from out-of-state. You think that you and her will get along just fine and you’ve already agreed on all the rules of cleaning and having friends over. The first week has gone well and you’ve gotten close. “She’s cool. I think she and I will be good friends.” 

He nods and turns on a show you watched awhile and the two of you sit in awkward silence until the pizza guy rings from downstairs. You excuse yourself to the bathroom after your dad rings him in. 

The bathroom is through the bedroom and you take careful note of the sheets still strewn all over the bed and the two pillows at the top. One nightstand is cluttered with a phone charger, earplugs, a lamp, and a picture of you on your graduation day in a silver frame. It tugs at your heart and you instantly look away, not wanting to feel any more nostalgia. 

However, on the other nightstand, there’s just a matching lamp. No hair tie, no other chargers or personal belongings. 

But that stuff is easily hidden, so you go into the bathroom. One toothbrush, one retainer case, one razor. You can’t tell if you’re disappointed or glad. 

At least you won’t have to listen to your mom talk endlessly about a new woman. 

Your dad already has a plate with two slices on it for you sitting in your spot on the couch and you dig into it, suddenly famished. The atmosphere does warm up over time, and it’s no longer uncomfortable silence and you do end up talking a bit about his work and more about your school while the TV plays.

He doesn’t bring up your mom or Agatha at all, and neither do you. In a way, it’s nice to be removed from them for a few hours. Your dad has been villainized by both of them — and obviously he fucked up — but he is still your dad, despite your complicated feelings toward him. 

After a few episodes of the show, you shift to get up, grabbing your plate. “You’re leaving already?” he asks and checks his watch.

“Yeah, it’s getting late and I should really be getting back to the dorms,” you say, trying to sound apologetic. Even if the bubble has been nice, you have somewhere you need to be. 

It’s hard for your dad to hide his disappointment, but he gets it and grabs his keys to walk you down to your car. 

“How’s, uh, how’s your mom doing?” he asks. Still putting me in the middle of all the imaginary drama she’s creating with you is what you want to say. But you know that he’ll call her out for it and you’d have to deal. 

“She’s pretty good. Work’s been keeping her busy.” A safe answer. A true answer. 

“Good,” he says and shoves his hands into his pockets and you know what’s coming next. “And Agatha? Have you seen her at all?” 

Imagines of her hot body on yours flash through your mind. Her rosy nipples, her pale stomach, the heat that swallows up her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve seen her around. She’s doing all right, too, I think.”

Your dad nods and stops at your car. “Well, I had a great time with you,” he says and holds his arms out for a hug. You mutter something in agreement and give him an embrace with two pats — the way you’ve done it since you were a kid. “Let’s do it again soon.”

He tells you that he loves you and after you say it back, you get into your car and he watches you as you drive away. 

Begrudgingly, you call your mom and put her on speaker and not even a second later, her voice fills your car. 

“How was it? Did you see anything? Is there another woman? Did you find my can opener?” she asks all in one breath and you take a silent, deep breath. 

You can’t wait to be home. “It was a pretty nice place actually.” Your mom snorts. “There wasn’t any sign of someone else there and I didn’t have time to look around. We just watched a show and ate pizza.” 

She makes a sound. “Wow, father of the year. Maybe he cleaned up the place before you came over.” You hum noncommittally. “What are you doing tomorrow? Want to come over? I’ll take you grocery shopping.” 

“Yeah, let me just check my schedule. Alice and I might be doing something, but I’d love to go there for a bit. Especially for groceries,” you tease and she laughs. 

“I bet your father didn’t even offer to do that,” she says smugly and your face falls. Sometimes you wonder if she does half the things that she does for you just to one-up him. 

“Okay, well I’m almost back now, so I’ll let you know when I’m coming over tomorrow,” you tell her, eager to wrap it up, and about to turn in. “Love you.” You hang up before she’s even done saying it back. 

Once you park, you text your roommate saying that you won’t be back for the night — staying with family — and walk up to the apartment side door, letting yourself in with the fob on your key ring. 

Agatha’s apartment complex is smaller than your dad’s, but just as nice, and you prefer it a lot more. 

After the divorce, she stayed in a hotel for about a week before signing a lease on a place about ten minutes away from where the house used to be. You had helped her pick out the furniture and spent more time here than at your mom’s house the last couple months of school and she gave you a key to it the day she moved in. 

It got harder over the summer to hang out with her, as you worked at an ice cream shop in the afternoons into the evenings and she was working her normal nine to five, but you made it work. 

Things are really good between the two of you. There isn’t exactly a label on it, per se, but you both know that it’s a relationship. And without your dad in the picture and with her not being your stepmom anymore, there isn’t as much of a need to keep sneaking around — so when she puts an arm around you while you’re walking down the street and kisses your cheek when you say something cute and ghosts her pinky against yours, it’s okay. 

You know things might change a little with you in college now, but you’re ready for it. And if you spend more nights at her place than at your dorm, so be it. It’s not like anyone’s going to know, and Alice will just think you’re staying with family. 

Unlocking the door, you can practically feel the tension seeping away from your body. Agatha makes everything feel better. Even the house you grew up in, the one your mom still lives in, doesn’t feel as home as this does. 

You don’t see her when you first walk in and you walk into the living room to see her typing something on her computer, brows furrowed, and you can just make out the glint of a document through the reflection of her glasses. 

“Hey, you,” you greet, kicking off your shoes. She startles and looks up before slamming her laptop shut and smiling. 

“Hey, honey,” she says and pats the spot next to her while she leans forward to place her computer on the coffee table. “How was it?” 

Agatha had emphatically listened to your incessant complaining about having to get dinner with your dad, but in the end she had also pushed you to go. You groan and flop onto the couch, situating yourself so that your head is in her lap and you’re looking up at her. “It wasn’t that bad,” you admit and she smirks. “Don’t even think about saying ‘I told you so’. I will leave.” 

She tosses her head back with a laugh and you play with the strands of hair that’s falling over her shoulder and teasing your face. “I would never, darling. But I’m glad it wasn’t bad. How is he?” 

Your nose wrinkles. “Can we not talk about my dad? Although, I was just thinking about how much of a reward I deserve for going.” 

“Oh, you think you deserve a reward, do you?” she ribs lightly, raising an eyebrow and poking you in the stomach. You giggle and twist away from her finger before sticking out your bottom lip as pitiful as you can and giving her doe eyes, nodding your head. She rolls her eyes fondly. “What were you thinking, honey?” 

You shrug like you’re just now beginning to think about it. “Well, mommy,” you say, a thrill running through you at her sharp gasp. “I think since I was such a good girl, you should give me an orgasm.” 

“Oh, just one?” she asks playfully, and you surge up out of her lap, turn over onto your knees to face her, and pull her in for a kiss. Your lips move against each other with familiar ease, her tongue licking hotly into your mouth and you moan — her hands slide up under your shirt and rest on your bare skin before you reach down and take it off. 

“As many as you’ll give me, mommy,” you pant, and she grins before starting to suck open-mouthed bites onto your chest. You’re wearing green lingerie but she barely even looks at it before unclasping your bra from behind and tearing it off, throwing it somewhere on the floor. 

She swirls her tongue around your nipple before suckling hard and you whimper, holding her head right against you. It feels like there’s a wire running straight from your boob to your cunt and you quickly feel yourself becoming soaked. Agatha switches to the other one and soon your entire chest is sticky with her saliva and you’ve moved onto her lap, squirming. 

Her teeth nip at the underside of your breasts and you can’t take it anymore. “Mommy, please,” you beg, grabbing her hand and leading it to the waistband of your jeans. Her fingers rest there while you quickly unbutton and unzip and then you shove her into your pants, your hand circled around her wrist to just feel her. 

Agatha chuckles throatily and moves her fingers experimentally against you while you try to grind down for some stimulation. You suddenly feel so empty, a molten heat between your legs, and Agatha crashes her lips back onto yours. She sucks on your tongue and tugs on your bottom lip as she finally presses against your clit and your hips jerk. “So wet for mommy, aren’t you?” she huffs and you nod and try to move against her harder. 

When she finally pushes your underwear to the side and runs her fingers through your folds, you keen and bury a hand into her hair, face dropping down into her neck. She sharply gasps when you start breathing heavily against her skin, content to just keep your lips planted against her throat. 

She slides a finger into you and your walls clench around her, trying to draw her even more in. Each time she fucks you, it feels like the first time — the same energy is there, the same electricity. But at the same time, she knows exactly what you need, maybe even more than you do. 

Her thrusts begin to pick up and heat is rising through your body and you can see little indents in Agatha’s skin from where your teeth have slightly sunk in. 

“Mommy, mommy — please, I need more,” you whine and she obliges by pushing another finger into you and curling them just right. A high-pitched sound leaves your mouth and you start riding her fingers the best you can, rolling your hips to match her and get her even deeper. You’re clenching furiously around her as sparks begin to fly in your lower stomach and you can feel the beginning tendrils of your orgasm start to build. 

Agatha’s thumb circles around your clit without actually touching it. “God, sweetheart, you look so hot right now, taking my fingers like such a good girl. You feel so good, too. Never wanna leave you,” she babbles, making you convulse even tighter. There’s a slight pink tint to her cheeks and her breathing has picked up and you know she’s affected too. Her fingers are moving faster and she pauses for just a moment, making you whimper, before she stretches you out with a third. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swear, your walls adjusting, and the slight burn only adds to the immense pleasure you’re feeling. “Fuck, fuck.” Your head is spinning, completely drunk with her and her perfume that’s been invading your nostrils the whole time, and you can’t even form a single thought. 

She presses harder on your clit and with the hand that’s not currently inside you, grips your hair and pulls you away from her neck. You can see red blotches staining her skin and the thought of her wearing your marks around gets you even closer. “Look at me,” she grunts, her thrusts becoming more sporadic and you stare right into her dark blue eyes with your pleading wide ones. Your breaths intermix and she looks like she might also cum just from this. 

Agatha lets out a strangled gasp when her gaze flickers from your eyes to your swollen lips to your breasts that are bouncing with your movements in her lap. 

“Mommy, I need — right there —” You can’t even string together a coherent thought and she scissors her fingers inside you, the pressure making you see stars. 

She looks you up and down again, drinking you in like she might never get enough, and her chest heaves with each breath she takes. “Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” she groans and your head falls back as you keep riding her. “I need you to cum for me, okay? Cum for mommy.” 

“Mommy, fuck, I’m gonna — fuck I love you,” you groan, not even realizing the words slipping out of your mouth, the words neither of you have ever said before, before it’s too late and your orgasm explodes through your body in a way it never has before. You feel it in every crack and crevice inside you and she keeps fucking you just as hard while rubbing your clit and it quickly becomes too much, tears springing into your eyes. 

Agatha’s fingers finally slow down and she coos sweet nothings in your ear and you wonder if she even heard you. It’s been a few months since you’ve been together, but neither of you has really acknowledged the depth between you. 

And you just did, in the middle of sex. 

“You okay?” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek and you nod before she pulls out of you and you wince at the sudden emptiness. You fall back out of her lap onto the couch. She must not have heard it. 

There’s a slight gnawing feeling that begins to grow in your stomach — if you said it for real, in a moment that couldn’t just be blamed on a dopamine rush, would she say it back? 

Does she feel the same? 

Agatha kisses you before sticking her three fingers into your mouth so you can clean them up. “Good girl,” she purrs in a low voice. “Was that a good enough reward?” 

You’re still a little out of it, but you nod dazedly. “Yeah,” you say softly and she gets off the couch and walks over to the fridge to get you a glass of water. “My mom wants me to go hang out with her tomorrow. What are you doing at night? Can I come over after?” 

She pauses for a fraction of a second and then glances at you over her shoulder. “Um, sorry, baby. I have to work all day tomorrow. Some last minute things I’ve got to get done.” 

You hum, a little disappointed, but graciously accept the water. “No worries. Maybe Monday or something.” 

“Yeah, of course. Just a second, I need to go grab something,” she murmurs and then walks into her bedroom. You’re exhausted and you get off the couch, stretching your aching muscles, and you’re about to follow her when her phone buzzes on the end table. 

Thinking it’s just a work email or something, you glance at it and your stomach drops, heart lurches. 

It’s a text message from an unknown number. 

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights

[madamechrissy]

Keep This Low Key

💜 Pairings: Choso x F!reader Rating: Explicit- MDNI

💜 Contents/Warnings: Oral (f and M recieving), fingering, teasing, kissing, explicit sex, multiple rounds, creampie, cum drinking, dirty talk and LOTS of feelings

💜 Word Count: this chap - 7.3k

💜 Summary: You have been Choso's best friend for years, and one night he has a date with Yuki, his girlfriend, while you have a date with Ino, your boyfriend, only for them both to break up with you at the same time! You all think of calling each other, but run right into each other. Choso brings you home since you didn't even have your car, and you two are crying over a couple beers and a silly movie, only to have a sudden idea. Why not say fuck dating, fuck heartbreak, and just fuck each other?

No drama, no mess, no upset, and you two are such good friends, nothing can go wrong, right? The only agreement is no feelings, and if you all find a s/o, you'll end things. But the moment Choso opens his heart to you, and the moment you start falling, things get messy, as you realize he's the best you've had, and you're falling hard. Will you all stay friends, become more, or will everything blow up?

✨️I know these two were dumb asf lol, but they are finally getting this together! I hope you enjoy their ending! ✨️

Chapter Five 💜 Masterlist 💜 Playlist 💜

Chapter Six- Final

When you show up dressed as Princess fucking Leia to Choso’s house the next Friday, well he almost cums in his pants again on sight. You’ve got the space buns, you’ve got the white robes, but underneath he sees an insane replica of her bikini, and you know Choso’s first crush in history just so happens to be her, so now he’s questioning your cruelty.

How does he keep taking it slow when you’re so perfect?

“I… you… huh!?” He’s mumbling, you smile then, tilting your head, stepping inside with a big bag in tow.

“We are having a Star Wars Marathon, and look!” You pull out lightsaber chopsticks and ramen packs. “And, gourmet dining. I don’t have a rockstar budget, you know.” You tease, starting to get everything together, so comfortable in his kitchen he’s baffled by you.

Choso’s tattooed hands come to rest on your waist as you start up the water on the stove, feeling the soft white material under his hands, you turn and look at him, a pretty smile breaking his heart. “You are perfect.”

“No…” You shake your head, nervous now, a blush decorating your cheeks, feeling the warmth spread as his palms press against you.

“God you are, look at you? Am I lucky or what?”

“It’s ramen Choso. Oh, I did bring over some cheap wine for later.” You’re trembling as he cups your jaw, the water is just starting to bubble when he’s kissing you again so deeply, taking your breath away. “I should dress like Leia more.”

“You just being here is everything. I missed you all week.” You exhale, kissing him once more, as he lets you go, and you start to put the ramen in, setting the timer. “You belong here, don’t you think?”

“Yeah?” You ask, voice soft and sweet as you turn to him, and he can’t stop the dopey grin on his face.

“Yeah. Are you staying the night?” He asks, not hiding the excitement in his eyes or voice at the thought of holding you all night.

“Well of course, we have many movies to watch, you know. Before we go and watch the latest tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t let you go anywhere like this.” His husky declaration shocks you, when he gently opens the white robe, baring you to him.

“You w-wouldn’t?” You whisper in response, surprised and far too excited by his possessive tone. Choso exhales, tracing the curves exposed on your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes, the fire building in your core

“I’d let you do anything, you know. But I’d be insanely jealous.” You’re kissing him again, bare skin pressing on the soft black sweater he’s wearing, your fingers curling around the strong biceps of his arms, heat pooling in your tummy.

“How slow are we taking things?” You tease, repeating his question yesterday. “I could suck him slow?”

“Jesus…” You’re giggling as the timer goes off, turning your attention to making you both bowls as he wills his cock to stop pulsing, picturing you in this outfit on your knees is wrecking him. “You’re torturing me.”

“You did too, Mr. eats me out on a wall and leaves.” He groans and covers his face when you start seasoning the ramen and giggle at him.

“Don’t remind me, hurt so bad jerking it after.”

“Did it?” You smile and he glares.

“You’re enjoying my pain?”

“Just a bit. Oh god, remember this was like all we ate in college?”

“That and pizza, yes, but… this looks yummy. And these!?”

“I got you a pair, don’t worry.” You grin and turn on the little red lights for his pair, yours are blue. “We can battle after!”

“You’re so-”

“Nerdy, I know.”

“Adorable.” You’re blushing again, sitting next to him in his little kitchen, slurping up noodles with glowing chopsticks, the simplicity of the beauty in such a silly moment moves him so much he has to pause. Taking in how the sunlight filtering from the window is making your skin and hair glow.

“Thank you, Cho. I wanted today to be… like how we were before… but also different.” You peck a little kiss on his lips, smiling against them when his hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“Princess Leia though, where’s this from?”

“A convention last year! I think… Yuki wouldn’t let you go?”

“Ah, I remember now! Is it uncomfy?”

“You want me naked.”

“Yes.”

You both laugh softly, but you shake your head. “Let’s get some movies down, Cho bear.”

You’re on the couch next to each other later, two movies down, the beginning of the third starting, music you’ve heard a million times, you’re suddenly a little uncomfortable with the wig, taking it off and letting your hair fall. He laughs at how messy it is, gently moving to fix it, brushing his fingers through it, your eyes flutter shut at how good it feels.

“Today is amazing.” He murmurs then, and you sigh, nodding.

“It’s just what we needed, I think… to get back to us.” You smile softly, lashes casting shadows across your cheeks as you lean in, kissing him sweetly.

“I missed us, so much.” He whispers, choking up then on his emotions, you sigh, nodding and kissing him over and over, soon his hands are on your bare waist, the warmth making you feel that pressure between your thighs.

“I like us even better now.” You say softly, between kisses, as he pulls you on his lap, thighs on either side of him, grinding and watching his head fall back in pleasure, as you plant sweet kisses along his throat.

“I like us better too, mnh…” He’s pressing up, his clothed cock hitting you now, when there is a knock on his door. “Ugh, they need to fuck off.”

“Don’t answer?” You tease, he grins, the sight melting you, and kisses you as the knocks persist, untilyou both ease back a bit.

“I’m coming.” He shouts, then mumbles, “Well I wish I was.” He pouts and you giggle, trailing a finger down his front slowly.

“You will tonight, promise.” Choso lets out a little purr as you stroke his silky black hair, he’s kissing you again, earning another soft cry as the knocks persist. “Go get it, may be important?”

“It better be.” Choso stands up then, as the knocking continues, frowning when he’s met with the sight of Yuki in tears.

The woman he thought he saw a future with, the one he felt so much for, is crying right on his doorstep, you tense then as Choso falters, you see the pretty blond like you’ve never seen her, she’s always been a tough girl, or so you knew of her. She buries her head against Choso’s chest, shoulders shaking, and his hands don’t touch her, they stay up in the air.

“Yuki, what…”

“He’s not who I thought he was. Cho, I miss you so much.” She cries now, sniffling, and Choso grimaces, easing her off him gently.

“Listen, I’m sorry really but-”

“Should I go?” You ask then, and Yuki blinks a bit as she takes in your costume, then looking at the movie playing, then back at Choso.

“You’re not going anywhere, angel.” Choso says then, and Yuki gasps, when he steps back, putting his hands on your shoulders, and Yuki curses softly.

“Shit… You two…”

“Yeah, we’re together now.” Choso says softly, making your own eyes well up with emotions, you thought for sure with Yuki here he would maybe want a moment with her, or something to give him closure, but no.

He’s choosing you.

After so many years of the both of you missing this moment and that, having these high school crushes and college infatuations, missing each opportunity you could have had, to be so much more. But now, you have each other, finally, and you’re so scared that something can break this, so precious and new.

“You all can have a moment to talk, I can step out?” You offer quietly, and he shakes his head again. “Cho, maybe it’s good to… have closure after what happened between you?”

“Don’t need it, though, I’m past it all, long past.” He says again, but you kiss his cheek, looking at Yuki sadly and gesturing to her.

“Maybe she does.” You walk by and Choso tenses again, Yuki gently touches your arm, sniffling a bit.

“I was a whole bitch to you, I am sorry. Make him happy, hmm?” You nod with a small smile, as you step out for a moment, feeling the air hit you.

“I absolutely will.” Choso is now left with his ex and her sad brown eyes, but he’s more anxious of what you will think, hating that you’re even outside, especially after the lack of trust between you two before. He does not want anything to mess it up, even if he does feel sad that Yuki clearly is hurting, it’s about as sad as Choso would feel for any human being.

“Yuki…”

“Listen, I just needed to say that I am sorry for how I left things, you didn’t deserve that shit.”

“I forgive you.” He says softly, to her surprise. “It’s in the past now, and maybe… for the best.”

“I see that now.” She swipes at her tears, sighing and shaking her head. “What I said wasn’t true though, about you.”

Choso smiles just a bit. “I know it wasn’t.”

“You really forgive me!?”

“I never expected an apology, but of course I do. I think it was all just… meant to happen how it did.”

“Look at you all confident, hmm? I like it.” Choso sighs, running a hand through his hair as he thinks of you.

“She helps me with that. Also I mean, I clearly did have feelings before for her, so I think I see now how that could be worrying, even if we were blind to it. But I do promise that I was never unfaithful to you in any way or-”

Yuki cuts him off, shaking her head. “I know Choso, I didn’t think so not for a minute. But the connection you two have was intimidating to say the least, still, I took it too far.”

“Thank you for apologizing, Yuki. Really, I hope everything turns out good for you.” Choso gets a big hug then, she sighs, looking up at him, he lets her hug him but he doesn’t really reach back, aside from a pat on the head that makes her smile just a bit.

“You’re too sweet for this shit ass world, Cho. I hope you’re happy too.”

“I have her, I will be.” He says with a dopey grin, and when Yuki steps outside, she lights a cigarette, looking over at you with a knowing smile.

“That boy is madly in love, hmm?” 

“I don’t know if he is yet… but I know I am.” You murmur, you know Choso really adores you, but you all still haven’t gotten there yet. Yuki sighs, blowing smoke up and over, looking back at the door.

“Oh, he is.” She waves goodbye and you step back inside nervously, the warmth inviting, and you worry somewhat, as you don’t know if this affected Choso, but he immediately checks on you, cupping your face after you shut the door.

“I’m so sorry she came over, are you okay?’

“Cho, it’s fine, really. I think it’s good if anything.” Choso blinks then, long lashes casting shadows over his cheeks.

“Good?’

“Yes, because you both get closure. You were very serious about her.” Choso exhales, nodding then.

“Yeah, I was but do you know who I fell for before her?” You blush now, shaking your head as he presses a kiss on your temple. “Let me tell you a story, then, of the day I met this girl.”

“Will I get jealous?” You tease, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“No, because she is you.”

“Hey, watch it.” Choso shoves a boy out of the way who was being so mean to you on your first day in seventh grade. You nervously bite your lower lip, clinging to your stack of books as this stranger defends you.

“What, ya like her or something?” The boy sneers, and Choso’s brows lower over his eyes.

“So what if I do, leave her alone.”

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll deal with me.” He shoves forward, already towering over everyone you’ve seen so far in the school, you watch with nervous eyes as another boy comes up near him, tugging at his friend’s sleeve.

“That’s Choso, you don’t understand…”

The boy looks at his friend, then at Choso and sighs then. “Fine.”

“Apologize, while you’re at it.” Choso says through his teeth, and suddenly the boy looks at you very apologetically.

“I’m s-sorry…”

“It’s okay.” You murmur, as they run off, leaving you with this tall, dark haired boy with violet eyes. He looks down at you then, opening his mouth, then closing it.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, and you instantly melt, you instantly feel so safe though you barely know him. Something about his warm, concerned gaze, and his pouty lips.

“I’m okay, thank you.” You say softly, smiling as you step a little closer, and so does he, and you inhale this calming scent he has, closing your eyes for a moment, as he inhales your sweet scent, something fruity he thinks like strawberries.

“I’m Choso.”

You smile and open your eyes, telling him your name softly, as the lights softly pool in from the bright windows behind your head, and he thinks to himself then, you look like an angel.

“Of course I remember that day, you were my knight in shining armor.” You say then, as the memories wash over you both, Choso sighs, his hands gently brushing your still messy hair back.

“I thought as those lights hit you, you were an angel.” You gasp, eyes locking on his, lips parted.

“Huh!?”

“Yeah, it’s where the nickname came from. You were so sweet and beautiful… and I felt this protective instinct. I couldn’t even explain it, but it was there.” You gulp now, nervously swallowing with a dry throat, as you stare into the swirling storms of his eyes. “I knew it then, even though I was a silly kid.”

“Knew what, Cho?” You murmur softly, breath caught in your throat when he leans down further.

“I knew I loved you, I knew it then. That anyone who would dare hurt you I’d take down, but then… I hurt you.”

“No, baby, no…” You’re crying now, blinking back tears as does he, and he shakes his head.

“I did, I did… I hurt you. The one that I love.”

“You love… me?”

“God yes, I always have angel. You’re it for me, even if I’m not sure I deserve you.” He whispers, and as his eyes swim with tears, so do yours, you cup his face as he leans down, and a fire burns within you.

“Then let me tell you, about a boy I fell for, hmm?”

“Will I get jealous?” He whispers back.

“No, because he is you.”

You looked nervously all around the cafeteria, you didn’t know anyone at all, and you were fearing you’d be all alone. A new girl in a new town, you fall upon the face of the boy who had saved you earlier, thinking just how cute he was, with his dark hair and pale skin, and lidded lavender eyes.

He catches yours then smiling warmly, a little turn of full lips that did things to your tummy- butterflies.

Choso gave you butterflies.

He waves you over, and you smile softly, as you sit next to him and his friends, your thighs brushing against each other as you sit your tray down. “Hey, angel.”

“Angel?” You ask softly, and he just smiles.

“Yeah.” You knew it then, when he shares his chocolate milk with you, when he fills you in on the details of this school, as his warm smile invites you in, and he begins to share everything he knows about the school, as you both lean so close.

It became an every day thing, lunch together, then breakfast, then he was even meeting you in front of your house to walk to school together, you all dropped his little brother off at elementary on the way. It was perfect, so perfect, like you’ve always known him, your first and only best friend.

One day as you’re under a cherry blossom tree, he yanks a petal and puts it in your hair, and that was it. You knew it then, that you’re in love with this boy.

Choso holds his breath, gulping then as you spill it, everything in your damn heart and soul. “I knew then that I loved you. And it just grew, Choso, it just grew even when I had my infatuation, and you had yours. Something in me always knew that I needed you in my life. And I almost lost you.”

“Angel, you’ll never lose me.” He says hoarsely, tears welling up in his eyes as he leans down so low, his big hands taking over your waist.

“I love you, Choso Kamo. I am in love with you.”

“And I love you, I’m in love with you. I have been, for so long, god don’t you know every song is about you.” 

“No they can’t be.” You whisper, shaking your head as emotions overwhelm you, as you can barely breathe.

“They all are, every one of them. It’s you. It has been you.”

“Choso…” He kisses you then, plump lips over yours, and you exhale and fall into it, still in your princess Leia costume, a million memories pouring in both of your minds as you meld into each other, as your words soothe the hearts that have been wrecked for so long.

“I love you, I love you Angel. I do. I have.” He sniffles then, pulling back, and you’re swiping away his sweet droplets of tears, trembling as he sees your own pouring down your cheeks.

“I can’t believe this is real.”

“It is, god it is. Though you’re a dream.”

“Cho…”

“You are. You are.” Choso eases off the white robes, leaving you in this insane bikini that’s wrecking his psyche, he can’t stand just how beautiful you are in it, kissing you over and over, as he now touches your hips, your waist, the nape of your neck, and your body responds.

“Please.” Is all you manage, and he moans, picking you up suddenly, pressing your back against the door, feeling the cool wood against overheated skin. Your legs wrap around his narrow hips, as he presses against you, and you both taste the salt of your tears melding.

“Please what, angel? Tell me.” He says, his voice husky, and you gasp out as he presses his heavy erection against your clothed clit, clinging to his soft sweater and whining out.

“Make me yours.” Choso moans now, carrying you to his bed eagerly, lips not leaving yours, his eyes closed but he knows it, knows the trail to it, only opening them when you bounce gently on his bed, and he takes you in.

“You’re mine.” His husky declaration just serves to make you soaking wet, you whine out, nodding and arching your hips up, making him more and more hungry for you.

“All yours, Cho bear.” Choso exhales and kisses down your throat, easing down the straps of your bikini, leaving trails of kisses and bites along your delicate flesh, and you’re reaching up for more, whimpering in desire. “Mnh!”

“You’re so beautiful, god look at you.” His big hands tremble, as his blunt nails press into your skin, and he kisses down the slopes of your breasts, rising and falling with each breath. “I want to cum inside you, make you all mine.”

“Y-you do?” Your eyes shoot up to his, as he nods eagerly, his lips parting while he slips your bikini top off fully, your breasts bouncing gently and making his cock throb harder.

“God yes, only if you want me to. I wanna fill you so good you drip me for days, hmm?” Your eyes dilate so big Choso can’t even see your irises.

“Y-yeah?” You whisper, making him chuckle a bit.

“You’re precious.”

“What?” You try to glare, but he’s sucking on your nipple now with his hot mouth, and your hands are entangling in his dark hair.

“I wanna ruin anything you think you had before.” His darker tone excites you further, you’re biting your lower lip nervously, heart racing.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiles up at you, easing your bottoms down your thighs, which tremble as your breath quickens, soaking wet pussy bare to his hungry gaze, making his cock twitch in his pants. God he can’t wait to sink inside you again, stay there, always he thinks.

“Let me…” You lean up taking his shirt off, revealing his strong, perfect body for your eyes, his every muscle, his every line. “You’re so gorgeous, Cho.”

“You’re gorgeous, angel. You’ve always been.” He kisses you again, both of you bare from the belly button up, his heavy hot chest pressing on your soft breasts, and you’re both feeling it, feeling the heat, feeling the love, feeling the desire.

Your hand snakes down to his bulging crotch, stroking him over his pants, making him hiss out your name, his eyes rolling back for a moment. “Oh my god…” He reaches down then to touch your wetness, making your pussy just drool all over his fingers. “You’re so wet for me, baby.”

“When am I not?” You tease softly, whining out as he rolls his finger against your little clit. “Cho, I need you.”

“Patience.” He teases, but you’re shaking your head, throbbing.

“I need your dick.” He snorts then, grinning down at you.

“Aren’t we having a romantic moment!?”

“No, you’re a munch and you will just eat me out, and Cho I love it but I need your dick.” He’s laughing loudly now, earning your glare.

“I want to fuck you so bad I can’t think, don’t worry.” He murmurs, watching you gulp, pushing you back down on the bed, spreading your legs and kissing down your stomach, leaving a wet trail down to your pussy.

“Y-you better gimme it.” You whine then. “But… god you’re good at that!?”

“I enjoy your sweet pussy all over my face.” He huffs, ending you as you watch with wide eyes as he licks you, a gentle swipe of his tongue making you arch up and moan, making your toes curl.

“Cho, oh god, cho, please, more, I need more.”

“Mm, I’ll give you more, baby, I’ll give you everything, I promise, just let me have my time, let me enjoy you.” He licks you again, from your hole dripping arousal up to your twitching clit, as you dream about that cock he’s pressing against the mattress. “Oh your taste.”

You're crying out as his tongue laps you up, drinking your wetness so loud and wanton in his room, when two thick fingers curl inside your walls, all slick and gummy and pulsing. You're dying for him, it's been two months without him inside you fully, all because you both had been so foolish. But now you need it, even as you feel an orgasm building.

“Please, wanna cum with you in me.” Your sweet murmur ends him, he whines out then, kissing you when he leans up, as his cock springs free, and you hastily rub his leaky tip on your folds, making you both shudder.

“I'll give you anything you ask for, Angel.” Your eyes lock then, as his tip sinks inside you, stretching and filling you slowly, you’re crying out as his piercing presses along your spot, nails sinking into the strong muscles of his arms. He gasps, pausing there, just a bit.

“More, please.” You’re begging, and he sinks further inside your greedy, soppy little pussy, you’re shattering from just that, when he stuffs you full, pushing all the way inside until he’s bottoming out and rolling his hips.

“Oh m-my god…” He whimpers softly, feeling as you’re throbbing around him, grinding his dark hair on his pelvis right against your clit, you’re cumming then and there, walls fluttering as he holds a breath. His eyes darken as he watches you, lips parted, studying your every movement.

“Cho!” You’re whining  out his name, and he moves then, strong sure thrusts, you’re falling apart for him, so beautiful, your brows scrunched together, your eyes dilated and lidded. He kisses you then, his tongue ring clicking against your teeth, you suck on it as he shoves so deep, stretching you so much, too much.

“Fuck, angel. You’re too perfect.” He whispers then, before he’s pulling out and you’re whining in indignation.

“Back in! Ah!”

Choso flips you then, on your tummy, making you moan as your ass arches back, you’ve never been like this, when he’s prone over you, licking a stripe up the side of your neck to your ear, sending shivers as his other hand wraps your throat. You feel him pressing inside you from this angle, so deep you feel him everywhere, you’re lost in him as he wraps all around you.

His scent in your nostrils, his lips on yours, his cock slipping so deep you feel him everywhere, head falling back against his chest, his weight pressing you into the mattress intoxicating. He’s lost in you then, as he kisses you and squeezes your pretty neck ever so lightly, as his other hand slips down to your hip, sinking his cock further in your tight little cunt.

“God, you feel s’good, angel… f-fuck, feel you.” He’s breathless, your ass arching up for more of his thrusts, each smack of his pelvis jiggling your ass while his leaky tip is shoving against your cervix.

“Ngh!” Is all you can manage, blinking rapidly as one hand clings to his wrist, thumb brushing over his pulse, your other gripping his soft blankets. “Harder, please, ngh!”

He moans now, shoving in so deep. “Choke harder?”

“Mhm!” You’re nodding, sobbing at how good he feels inside you, like he’s just supposed to be there, all while he makes you a sniffling mess under him, squeezing your throat harder with his big hand.

“Tap me if it’s too much.” You nod and he squeezes even more, fucking into you so good, his piercing dragging again just as your vision darkens, as he’s sucking the oxygen and filling you all with him.

You can’t get enough of this feeling, like you’re floating, everything so fuzzy as you’re dripping down Choso’s thick, veiny length, and you hear more and more of the lewd squelching along with ringing in your ears. Your orgasm rushes through your body, passing through every sensitive inch, he releases your throat then and you gasp for air greedily, pussy drenched.

“Love you…” He murmurs in your ear, and your eyes flutter as your walls tighten around him again, pathetic little cries falling from your pretty lips.

“L-love you…” You whisper back, as his pace slows, and his hot lips press sweet kisses up the side of your neck.

“Wanna fill your pretty pussy up, c-can I?” He asks softly, you nod quickly, flipped on your back again, thighs pressed up against your breasts by strong hands. You gasp at it, as his cock slides back in your pussy, so deep like this, balls slapping against your ass while he looks at you, every emotion in your eyes reflected in his. “You sure, angel, it’s okay?”

“I want you to cum in me, please.” Your whispers end his resolve, you feel too good, you’re just too pretty, your cunt is gripping him so tight, he’s losing himself over you, fucking you faster and faster, leaning forward and pressing his weight on your thighs, making him slam your cervix. “Ah!”

“Gonna cum so deep in you, angel, hmm?” You nod weakly, tears in your eyes of pleasure when he finally pushes in, jerky rhythm, his own eyes rolling back as he finally busts inside you, no barrier between you both.

“Oh my God!” You’re cumming just from that, from his warm cum filling you to the brim, pulsing inside you so much, you feel him throb as he cups your face, kissing you as you drink his moans in.

“F-fuck, s’perfect… oh it’s s’good angel…” Choso’s exhaling against your lips, and the intimacy is just enhanced as he pulls back, and his eyes are so dilated they look black, his tongue flicking over your lower lip as you’re so full of him. You’re trying to catch a breath, when it all overwhelms you, and the tears start to fall from your eyes, down your cheeks. “Are you alright!?”

“Yes it’s just… I’m really happy.” He exhales in relief, kissing you deeply, taking a hand and entwining your fingers, before leaning up on an elbow, kissing away your salty tears.

“I worried I was too rough or…”

“No, no, I loved it.” He kisses the marks he left on your throat, exhaling and tickling your skin with his hot breath, you’re clinging to his strong muscles, feeling them bunch and roll as he gently kisses along your jaw.

“That was the best moment of my life, aside from our first time.” You giggle, shaking your head as he pulls up, a big grin on his face.

“No way, what about all your shows?”

“Nothing is like cumming inside you.” His husky tone wrecks you, you’re kissing again, sore little pussy pushing his cum down and out of your hole, making him hiss a bit at the sensation. “Fuck…”

“Mnh, y’know I should clean you up.” You tease, turning and flipping him on his back then, kissing down his chest, his tummy, he gasps, big hands wrapping your tendrils, still messy from the wig and now the lovemaking.

“I’m convinced I’m in some dream.” He whispers, you smile, shaking your head as you lap at the cum, his and yours, white and sticky along his tip, still having cum oozing out of his little hole as you drink on it, moaning. “Mmh!”

“You taste so yummy.” You whisper, sucking him semi hard, feeling him thicken and pulse in your mouth again, as Choso looks down at you in wonder, teeth sinking into his lower lip, his big hands gripping your hair and pulling.

“You’re so pretty like this.” He whispers in wonder, tears still on your lashes in droplets, before pulling you up to him, and you’re leaning down, kissing him deeply, tongues dancing when you’re grinding against his cock. “Need you again.”

“Again?” You whisper in wonder, as you lean up and peer down, finding him throbbing, heavy and hot against your slick cunt, you cry out, head falling back then as his hands grip your waist, sliding his cock up and down between your slick folds, over and over.

“Again, please, I can’t get enough of you.” Choso whispers, voice soft and husky now, violet eyes glittering when he watches his own cum pour out of your pussy, slick against his again throbbing cock. “L-look at it, pretty, so much.”

“You did cum a lot, hmm?” You tease, gasping when he lifts you like you’re nothing, pressing his tip back in your entrance. He nods, pressing in, making you whine as he’s so deep, so thick, so full. “Want me to ride you?”

“Please, god yes.” You both giggle breathless, and you start to ride him then, you lift yourself up and down his cock, feeling him fill you so deep, so much, as your arousal pools down at his base, across the muscles of his abdomen as you whine out, head falling back, giving him the best view of your pretty breasts in his face.

He grabs a breast now, sucking on a nipple, his other hand gripping your ass and dragging you down his length, making you so sensitive. Choso slips a hand down your tummy, now playing with your clit, making you whine and whimper with every touch, with every pump of his cock, until you’re weak and trembling.

“Come here, pretty, lemme help.” He murmurs, your hair falling to the side of you both like a curtain, dancing along his skin like silk as he takes over, planting his feet on the bed as your lips smash together, your nails digging into his chest as you cling to hang on while he fucks up into you.

Your walls tighten around him, and the feeling is exquisite, so intense that you feel like you’re going to break apart from the pleasure. You are moaning right into his mouth, tongues messy and dripping saliva, as you feel the pressure in your lower tummy about to let go.

“Cho!” You whine, and he moans, cupping your face with one hand, exhaling as he studies you.

The room is filled with the wet sounds of your sex, your breaths mingling with his as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, urging you on, telling you how pretty you are, how good you feel, how much he needs this. And you do need this too, fuck you need it.

Nothing before matters, nothing matters right now but losing yourself in each other, in this connection, this perfect blend of obscene sex and sweet love making, his snaps of his hips hitting just so in slick walls. The way he brushes your hair gently but then pulls at it, the way you’re trembling around him, breath catching and eyes rolling back in your head.

A heady mix of pleasure and love fills you both, you can’t stop saying it, and neither can he. “Love you f-fuck angel…”

“Love y-you, baby…” You’re whining out the words as he busts another hot load so deep in your greedy pussy, and god she sucks it all up too, even as she’s pushing his white sticky cum down his cock. He grips you bruisingly, whimpering right in your ear while you tremble over him, and he slows his movements.

“God I’ll never get enough of you.” Choso murmurs, and you blink rapidly, more tears falling.

“Neither will I.”

You both kiss, over and over so hungry, until he pulls out and sees the mess you’ve both made, taking some of it with his fingers, pressing the cum back into your little hole, you gasp. “Sorry, angel, I want it to stay in there.”

He flips you on your back, smirking then, not sweet little Cho bear, no he’s devious, watching you squirm. “Ah-ah! Too much!”

“Just a little more, hmm? Be a good girl.” You’re gasping as your oversensitive pussy is stuffed more full of him, before he sucks you both off him, moaning, cheeks hollowing as he does. “Choso you’re a whole freak.”

“Only for you.” He blushes all cute, like he didn’t have his hand around your neck, like he wasn’t pushing cum in you, making the conundrum that is your boyfriend just that more enticing. “C’mon, let’s shower.”

“Yes please!”

Soon he’s washing you up gently, eyeing little marks with worry. “Are you sure I wasn’t rough with you?” He asks with a frown, fingers touching every spot with the fragrant suds of the body wash, as you rest your head against the tile wall, smiling, so fucked out it’s adorable to him then.

“Oh no, we could… be rougher.”

“And I’m the freak, hmm?” He presses you against the shower wall as you giggle, breathless, the hot water pouring down on both of you, filling the room with the hot steam that sinks into the breaths you take.

“Maybe we both are.” You drag him down for a kiss, your lips working over each other, his big palms pressing against your back, shocked when he’s hard again, pressing on your tummy. “Oh?”

“He won’t stop.” Choso mumbles, lucky you can’t tell his blush from how reddened the shower has his skin. “You must be sore?”

“I could go again.”

“Oh?”

You grin, as he lifts you up. “Oh.”

*****

Two months later

You and Choso Kamo have been inseparable, even more so from when you were best friends growing up, now you can’t keep your hands, lips, anything to yourselves, the public displays of affection certainly embarrassing all your friends, especially Yuuji, despite how happy they are for you. Even now, Choso is kissing you as they’re prepping their guitars and drums.

“Come on you two.” Megumi grumbles, and Yuuji rolls his eyes as Choso just yanks you even closer, pressing you against his chest.

“Choso, we’ll-”

“No, more kisses.” He cuts you off, and picks you up now, as your arms wrap around his neck, and you’re giggling breathlessly.

“You have a show!”

“I’ll give em a show.”

“Choso!” You’re breathless as he eases you down, and then he takes something out of his pocket, a key with a little baby Yoda keychain, you blink then. “What is this?” You ask curiously.

“My house key. I made one for you.” He clips it on your little bag then, sighing as you blush, the color making your cheeks so pretty before the lights darken in the club they’re at, still behind the curtains.

“You did?”

“I also cleaned out my entire top drawer.”

“Choso…”

“Also you could absolutely leave your place and move in, when you’re ready, but I know that’s crazy for now.”

“It is insane!”

“You basically live there anyway.” You do though, it’s not too often you’re even home anymore. “But we can wait for that step, for now… this baby yoda key can be my symbol of affection.”

“It’s perfect.” You say with a soft laugh, grinning up at him as he holds you in his arms, wrapped around you so tightly. “I accept your declaration of affection, my dear Knight.”

“Ah, my lady makes me so-”

“Can you two please stop?” Yuuji asks, and earns Choso’s glare. “It’s so corny, the nerdiest couple imaginable.”

“I can still kick your ass, kid.” Choso earns Yuuji’s tongue sticking out, but he kisses you once more before you hop down, grabbing a drink at the bar, and you almost burst out in laughter when you see it.

Gojo and Amber.

You snort so loud you earn her immediate smirk, but Gojo looks back at you and gives you a lazy smile. “Hey sweets.”

“Gojo, didn’t expect you here.”

“Mmm, your boy toy has good music.” You roll your eyes, sighing as he steps close to you, leaning down. “If you ever wanna make him mad again-”

“Yeah, no way. But… have fun with her.” You shove at his chest and he sighs, pouting.

“What a heartbreaker.”

“Whatever.” You laugh and shake your head, as Amber clings to Gojo’s tall, lithe frame, when Utahime walks in, you run up to her, hugging her tightly. “You made it to the show!”

“Of course I did. Ooh, cute keychain!” Her dark hair falls over a shoulder, as she toys with it.

“It’s a house key.” You whisper, Utahime grins.

“I’m so happy for you! Yuck, is that Gojo!?”

Gojo shoots Utahime a grin, wiggling his brows as she flips him off, scowling over at him. “Hey Hime.”

“Oh hell no.” She drags you into the crowd, and you’re laughing quietly. “He’s a walking venereal disease. A key!?”

“Yes, isn’t it cute?” You’re sipping your drink now, as the lights shine right on the stage, and you see him, the love of your life, and he smiles right at you.

“Dedicating this song to the girl who I don’t know what I’d do without.” He says your name, and the light shines on you for a moment, you pay no attention to anything however, it’s all you and Choso then. “I wrote this song for you back in middle school, my emo era.”

“You’ve left your emo era?” MEgumi quips, earning the entire crowd laughing as CHoso rolls his eyes.

“Well it wasn’t a phase I guess.” Yuuji teases, earning more laughter, you’re smiling so big your cheeks hurt, when the light passes, and Utahime clings to your arm gently, whispering her excitement.

“Middle school me was especially emo. So, I found this…” He pulls out a note, it looks well worn out, soft notebook paper of years past. “About this girl, and I decided I needed to update it, so how’s a new song sound?”

The crowd is cheering, and your heart is racing, as memories of you both back in middle school come to the forefront of your mind, of a boy who defended a girl, of a girl who was steadfast in her friendship. Of a boy and a girl who adored each other, but never said the words out loud, of a boy and a girl that now stand across from each other in a crowded venue.

Of you and Choso Kamo.

His melodic voice starts singing those words, and your eyes shut for a moment, it’s as if you see him back then, confessing his words to you, it all blends in this perfect, beautiful moment.

She’s an angel with a halo,

I’m a boy with broken wings.

But everytime she smiles I know,

That my heart, oh it sings.

“It’s a whole emo love story.” Utahime murmurs, you grin so big then, as he proceeds to sing, and when his song is done and they’re all cheering for him, he hops off the stage and pulls you in his arms, kissing you for everyone to see.

“I love you, Cho bear.” You murmur, as he cups your face.

“And I love you, angel.”

That night you couldn’t wait long enough to get home, which resulted in Choso fucking up into you right in the leaned back seat of his mustang, and two people may or may not have seen you even through some tinted windows, and it may or may not have really irritated one of them.

Amber cried that night, but Satoru snorted in laughter.

You both were two busy to notice, not when you’re grinding on his cock so deep inside you, as he’s clutching you your hips, crying out while your pussy tries to take him, stretching to accommodate, and his tongue ring is flicking against your lips, as you pant, sweaty in the hot car. Your ass hits the radio at one point, and you both laugh, so breathless.

“Is th-that our… s-song from… prom dance?” You manage to breathe out, and Choso groans, kissing down the slopes of your breasts, leaving slick, wet spots reddened from his mouth.

“It is, p-perfect, isn’t it?” He looks up, taking one of your hands and kissing them, picturing how pretty that ring is gonna look like, but you’ll just have to wait for your birthday for that surprise.

“You’re smiling so- ah! Up to s-something…” You cry out as he presses his thumb against your twitchy clit, making you scream out right in this parking lot.

“You’ll find out soon, just cum for me, pretty, hmm?”

“Yes, yes… mmm!” You’re shattering over him, and in the sweet aftermath he kisses your closed eyelids, sighing.

He can’t wait to have a forever with you.

The End

A/N: I KNOW two of these chaps were so angsty, but these two were dumb asf lol. I hope you enjoyed his storyyy - Choso is not my main jjk man I write for so this was very new to me lol <3

Taglist: @erencvlt @antisocialinlw @aquamarine001 @maskedpacific @mima0127 @yxnnu @lana18918 @bigbird789  @angellliqua @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @staygoldsquatchling02 @bts-psycho @lillycore @mysticalnightbeliever @wystriz @tokyolhtl @imabyssa @delicate-ray-of-sunshine @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @sparklydeerface @10honeybee01 @marie-is-in-the-dark @lavender-hvze @angelcakkess @bellasworlds-stuff @pauliiis-stuff @mysouleaten @city-of-lovers @teddiiursula @flowerbbybananamilk @anna-reader-blog @loveisnanami @seeing-stars-alt @nymphsdomain @mollyrocks420 @ilovemrsilver @kitzuuuu @skzynct @ivyvenus333 @schlokki @the-dark-creature @unikornboop @mima0127 @iluvmusicxoxo @trishiepo0 @k-drgn @jeonjieun17 @evelynxxo @cryingoverpixelsetc

[jiminomenon]

what if a colleague of karina starts taking interest on assistant! reader 😩😩

good question.

from my series: the devil wears prada

it started out as something harmless.

one of jimin’s colleagues—perhaps a fellow model, someone just as rich and well-connected as she was—took an interest in her assistant. in y/n. maybe it was because of the way she handled jimin’s impossible demands with a straight face, or the way she carried herself, always so composed, so unshaken by the chaos that surrounded jimin’s world. or maybe it was just because they found her attractive.

whatever the reason, it began subtly. lingering glances, offhand compliments, the occasional teasing remark whenever jimin wasn’t around.

“you know, jimin’s lucky to have you,” the model—let’s call him jaemin—said one evening at an industry event. y/n had been standing off to the side, watching over jimin’s things while she mingled with people far above her pay grade.

she glanced at him, slightly wary. “lucky?”

jaemin grinned, charming and effortless. “yeah. you put up with her. do you know how many people would’ve quit after the first month?”

y/n chuckled. “i try not to think about it.”

he tilted his head, studying her with open interest. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you outside of work. do you go to these things often?”

she shook her head. “only when i have to.”

“shame,” he mused. “i think you’d enjoy them more if you weren’t stuck babysitting.”

y/n huffed a laugh, glancing toward jimin, who was deep in conversation with a designer. “i don’t mind.”

jaemin raised a brow, amused. “really? she’s that good of a boss?”

y/n hesitated for a fraction of a second. “she has her moments.”

he smirked. “so that’s a no.”

before y/n could respond, a voice cut in.

“is there a problem?”

jimin.

her tone was neutral, but there was an edge to it—one that made jaemin’s smirk widen slightly, as if he had expected this. y/n straightened, suddenly feeling like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t, even though she had done nothing wrong.

“no problem,” jaemin said smoothly. “just getting to know your lovely assistant. you never introduce her to anyone, you know. it’s almost like you’re hiding her.”

jimin’s gaze flickered to y/n, unreadable. “she’s not here to socialize.”

jaemin chuckled. “right, right. just here to follow you around like a shadow.”

“exactly.” jimin’s smile was polite, but there was something sharp behind it. “if you’re done, i need her.”

jaemin held up his hands in surrender. “of course. wouldn’t want to get in your way.” he turned back to y/n, flashing her an easy grin. “see you around, y/n.

y/n gave him a small nod, unsure of what else to do.

as soon as he walked away, jimin grabbed her wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to pull her a step closer.

“don’t talk to him,” she said— well, demanded lowly.

y/n blinked. “what?”

“jaemin,” jimin responded, jaw tight. “don’t talk to him.”

y/n frowned. “why? he was just making conversation.”

jimin scoffed. “he was flirting with you.”

y/n stared at her. “so?”

jimin’s grip on her wrist tightened slightly before she let go, expression unreadable. “just don’t,” she muttered, before turning and walking away.

y/n watched her go, confusion swirling in her chest.

because that almost sounded like jealousy.

the thought was ridiculous. it had to be. jimin didn’t care about things like that. she didn’t care about her like that... right?

yet, jimin’s words echoed in her head. don’t talk to him. her fingers still tingled where jimin had gripped her wrist, and for a moment, she wondered if she should just let it go. maybe jimin was just in a mood again.

but then, jimin suddenly stopped a few feet away. without even turning around, she spoke.

“well?”

y/n blinked. “…well what?”

jimin turned, looking at her expectantly, like she was waiting for something obvious. “are you coming?”

y/n just stared at her. “do i have a choice?”

jimin raised a brow, unimpressed. “stay by my side.”

y/n huffed. “or what?”

jimin narrowed her eyes. “if i lose sight of you, you’re fired.”

y/n let out an exaggerated, dramatic eye roll. “oh, please.”

jimin only tilted her head, waiting.

y/n exhaled through her nose, reluctantly closing the distance between them, falling into step beside her.

jimin, satisfied, didn’t say anything more.

but the way she held herself, a little more at ease now that y/n was back where she belonged, didn’t go unnoticed.

[maikelfist]

@chimneyz encouraged me to come off anon and take credit for my horny headcanon and I thought I'd do it by turning it into a fanfic. If you’re in the mood for hurt/comfort and self-indulgent smut this is for you. You can find it on ao3 here:

The Mechanisms of Pain Relief

BuckTommy | 9k | rated: E

Summary:

For Evan and Tommy, intimacy is as natural as breathing, and the idea of going long without sex feels almost unthinkable. If it were up to them, they’d stay in bed all the time. But life happens—sometimes their shifts don't align, they're exhausted, or they prefer to cuddle and comfort each other after a particularly rough day at work. Those things are to be expected. What isn’t predictable or acceptable is when Evan ends up hospitalized with a head injury. Or: Tommy takes care of Buck and Buck is overwhelmed in so many ways.

Symptoms of a concussion may include headaches, dizziness, confusion, sensitivity to light and noise, fatigue, sleep disturbances, memory problems, slowed reaction time, irritability, anxiety, depression and sensitivity to stress.

If you experience any of these symptoms worsening, you should speak to your healthcare provider.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

For Evan and Tommy, intimacy is as natural as breathing, and the idea of going long without sex feels almost unthinkable. If it were up to them, they’d stay in bed all the time. But life happens—sometimes their shifts don't align, they're exhausted, or they prefer to cuddle and comfort each other after a particularly rough day at work. Those things are to be expected.

What isn’t predictable or acceptable is when Evan ends up hospitalized with a head injury.

Tommy’s heart stops for a moment when Eddie’s text comes through, and he doesn’t even wait for his supervisor’s approval when requesting time off work to rush to the hospital. This isn’t like a dislocated shoulder, where it makes more sense to wait until his shift ends to check on Evan, no matter how agitated he felt at the time. This is much more serious.

A sigh of relief escapes Tommy’s lungs as he steps into the observation unit and sees Evan awake, propped up in bed. Evan’s face is pale but relaxed under the fluorescent lights. A bandage covers the treated head wound, and the sunglasses perched on his nose—definitely Eddie’s—give him an oddly fashionable look despite the circumstances. Blocking the harsh hospital light in style. The tension in Tommy’s shoulders eases slightly when Evan greets Tommy with a sleepy, sedated smile and the reassurance that it’s “not too serious of a concussion.” CT scans have been done and pain relief has been given.

“Don’t even need to stay the night… pr-probably,” Evan continues, his speech more slurred than Tommy would like. “I-I told Eddie it’s not a big deal. Head wounds are a lot worse than they look.” Evan pauses, confusion flickering across his face before he corrects himself. “No, wait. Other way ‘round.” He thinks for a moment, visibly rearranging the words in his head, taking longer than necessary. “They look worse than they are!” Evan exclaims with more energy, pleased that he got it right. “The head has so many blood vessels that—that even a small cut can look like… like a crime scene… b-but it’s usually not that bad—”

"Evan." Even when he keeps his voice low, Tommy delivers the name with a seriousness that he knows will make Evan pause, hold his breath for a moment. "How long until you can leave?" Tommy has hundreds of other questions on his mind, but he doesn’t want to put any strain on Evan. He’ll squeeze out all the information he needs from Eddie later.

“Uh… they said they wanted to watch me for a couple of hours. I-I don’t know how long it’s been. Eddie will know. He wanted to—he’s…” Even with only half of his face visible, it’s clear that Evan is scrunching it up in puzzlement. “Water!” he exclaims after a few seconds, as if the word had just clicked into place. “He’s getting me more water.” Evan slowly turns his head toward the entry, as if mentioning Eddie's name might make him return more quickly. When Evan realizes that no one is standing there yet, he shifts his gaze back to Tommy. A dopey smile spreads across his lips. “They asked me if… if I had someone who could take care of me at home.” Evan sluggishly lifts his arm, fingers bumping into the back of Tommy’s hand before he manages to take it, his grip weak but warm. “I said yes.”

Tommy’s chest tightens, a mix of relief and affection flooding him as he squeezes Evan’s hand gently. He isn’t sure whether to feel glad or disappointed that Evan is wearing shades. On one hand, it’s good that the sunglasses are providing Evan with some comfort, but on the other, he’d give anything to see those sunny eyes of his—the ones that have the power to melt him inside and leave him weak in the knees. Right now, Tommy knows he needs to be strong for Evan, but he can’t help giving in to the widening grin on Evan’s face, returning it with a soft smile of his own. He brings Evan’s hand to his lips and kisses it gently.

“Yeah. Yeah, you have.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Evan hit his head on a car door. That’s the short version of the story. Eddie almost makes it sound like a slapstick sketch with how casually he remarks on it. Tommy knows, though, that Eddie’s calm demeanor is just a cover for how worried he is. Tommy knows that feeling all too well.

The full story is far less comedic. Two cars collided, leaving one severely damaged. It ended up wedged against a concrete barrier, with the passenger side crumpled like tissue paper. Thankfully, the father and son had been seated on the driver's side, and they managed to pull the unconscious father through the broken windshield. Extracting the son was more difficult. The child, sitting in the back seat, was trapped by twisted metal around the rear door, crying, panicking and in pain from a broken leg.

Evan was tasked with prying open the car door using a hydraulic spreader. He placed it between the door frame and the car body and began to apply pressure. The metal was severely bent and difficult to move—until it suddenly gave way. With a loud cracking sound, the door swung open so abruptly that Evan lost his footing and fell face-first into the swinging metal, a sharp edge striking his temple. The force was so strong that it cracked Evan's helmet.

Tommy’s stomach churns as he listens to Eddie’s retelling. Seeing Evan in his patched-up state is already bad enough; Tommy can’t picture what a terrifying sight he must have been to their friends—unconscious, blood gushing from the wound down his face, soaking into his clothes and hair. He doesn't even want to imagine what Evan's head would have looked like if he hadn't been wearing protection.

Eddie says he’s pretty sure Evan put too much pressure on the spreader, trying to get the boy out as quickly as possible.

Tommy doesn’t give in to the urge to rub his eyes. Instead, he quietly jokes, “Well, kids are a weakness of his.”

Eddie exhales a humorless puff of air in reply. “Yeah.”

They are whispering back and forth in Evan’s kitchen, the only illumination coming from the faint streaks of light peeking through the edges of the closed blinds, loft darkened to keep the fading day from hurting Evan’s eyes and allowing him to sleep peacefully upstairs. 

“Hey,” Eddie adds softly. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other, hoping the lack of light conceals the awkwardness of it. “You really don’t need to thank me for that.”

“I’m gonna do it anyway. How many of your vacation days did you use to get two weeks off work? Just to be stuck in the Bat Cave?”

“You’ll keep us alive by providing us with food and supplies, so who’s the real Batman here?” “I think that makes me Alfred.”

"Who has been called Batman’s Batman," Tommy points out, raising a finger at Eddie.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, we’re both awesome,” Eddie relents, batting the finger away. “I’m just saying, I… I would’ve looked after him at my place, but I just got Christopher back and I don’t think it would be good for him to see Buck like this, so…”

“I get it. You can count on me, all of you.”

“Well, except that one time,” Eddie drawls.

There will likely never be a time when Tommy won't feel shame when reminded of how he ran away from Evan out of fear of getting hurt. At the same time, it floods him with relief knowing that Eddie and the others are casual enough about it to use it as roasting material. He would listen to their quips every day if it meant being with Evan. However, that doesn’t mean he will just take it lying down. “Yeah, we all need to make a monumentally stupid mistake once to learn not to do it again, right, Eddie?”

The blow makes Eddie close his eyes for a moment, and Tommy can practically see the Kim fiasco flashing behind them. When Eddie opens his eyes again, Tommy is met with an unimpressed look. “You’re lucky this ended well for both of us.”

Fond amusement quirks Tommy’s mouth. “So are you. And this will turn out well for Evan, too. Alright?” Tommy assures Eddie.

The first genuine smile of the day brushes across Eddie’s lips, so small that it's nearly unnoticeable. “Yeah. Alright.”

Shoulder bumps turn to hugs turn to goodbyes. Tommy holds the door open, promising to regularly send Eddie updates, lists of groceries and other things he needs from his own place, while Eddie swears he’ll come by as often as possible. When the door closes, Tommy listens for a moment until he can no longer hear Eddie’s muffled footsteps. Then he turns to face the dark.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The recovery time is a bit of a whirlwind. Or rather, a tornado.

Tommy learns to navigate Evan's loft almost blindly because he refuses to turn on any of the bright lights at night. Who thought open-space architecture was a good idea? The evening he broke up with Evan was filled with many moments that make him shake his head—mostly at himself—but Evan asking him to move into a place that was essentially one big room was certainly one of them. Then again, even through walls, Tommy feels an odd sense of guilt whenever he has to make a sound louder than his toothbrush. It will probably be a while before he stops cringing every time he needs to flush the toilet.

The stairs end up being Tommy's biggest source of stress. Through eye contact alone, Tommy knew that he and Eddie were on the same page about the desire to simply carry Evan up the stairs and into bed if Evan hadn’t insisted on climbing them himself. Instead, Eddie led the way, walking backward and holding on to Evan's arms, with Tommy behind Evan, hands on his back, ready to catch them both. 

Tommy keeps having nightmare visions of Evan stumbling and falling down the stairs or over the railing. He considers taking Evan’s bed apart and moving it to the lower level, but their current situation isn’t exactly ideal for playing IKEA. Not for the first time, he curses his neighbors for having the most obnoxiously noisy construction work done on their house at the worst possible time. Otherwise, he would take care of Evan at his place. As it stands, he plans to keep Evan as far away from the stairs as possible until he’s healed.

Thankfully, it seems to be quite easy to look after Evan, his dizziness and confusion turning him pliant and receptive to Tommy's care. Tommy ensures that Evan stays in bed, always having water and Tylenol within arm's reach so he can remain hydrated and pain-free, and regularly prepares light, nutritious meals for him—though, trying to make sandwiches by the dim light of the open refrigerator is certainly an experience. He tends to Evan's wounds with gentle hands, is by his side when he takes a bath, washes and combs his hair, and stands by the closed but unlocked door whenever Evan needs to go to the bathroom, ready to help if needed. Evan sleeps a lot, but rarely a full night’s worth in one session, waking up every couple of hours, and Tommy is there to give him whatever he needs or simply keep him company.

His demeanor softened by the lingering haze of his injury, Evan soaks up all the attention and care Tommy gives him, and Tommy is more than willing to provide it. Evan is sweet and easy, and Tommy really should have learned from Billie Boils' “curse” that it wouldn’t stay that way.

After a couple of days, dizziness turns to irritation. Evan keeps getting up from the bed, desperate to move, run around, exercise, and he argues till his head aches when Tommy tries to coax him back to bed.

After getting the okay from Buck’s doctor, Tommy researches suitable activities for someone with a concussion and begins to incorporate light, slow seated stretching and range-of-motion exercises into their daily routine. They don’t work out for very long, only a couple of minutes at a time, until Evan realizes this isn’t what his body actually wants while it’s healing.

Tommy can tell what Evan misses the most is going outside and running in the park, but since that’s not possible, Tommy tries to bring the park to him. One afternoon, they lie in bed together, both of their eyes closed, as Tommy tries to create scenarios for Evan to imagine.

He describes the scene in a soft, soothing voice, painting a picture of clouds drifting overhead, leaves rustling in the wind, and even attempts to mimic the sound of the breeze, puffing out his cheeks and blowing air through his lips.

Evan cracks one eye open, unimpressed. “Your wind sound is almost as bad as your fake mouth static.”

Determined to make up for his apparently less-than-convincing sound effects, Tommy pulls up a video of city park ambience for relaxation, which turns out to be a huge mistake.

"I miss my phone," Evan whines behind his hands as the pads of his fingers rub his eyes in frustration, having remembered that the internet, with all its vast knowledge, exists.

"You're not allowed to look at screens, you know that," Tommy retorts, his voice gentle yet firm, as he lies on his side on the bed next to Evan, propping up his head with his hand.

Evan lets his hands thump to the pillow next to his head, his face sulky and disgruntled. “But I want to know how big jellyfish can get!”

Tommy’s brows furrow slightly and he can feel amusement tug at the corners of his mouth despite himself. “Why?”

"I had a dream about an ancient god-like jellyfish the size of a whale. It talked to me but I forgot what it said," Evan says, arms crossed and pouting, as if the universe itself has wronged him.

The largest known jellyfish apparently belonged to the Lion's Mane species, boasting a bell diameter of 7 feet and tentacles around 120 feet long—if one can trust the Wikipedia article which Tommy slowly reads to Evan. Normal research often sends Evan spiraling down a never-ending rabbit hole of information. However, Tommy is happy to discover that research-via-boyfriend, listening to the calm, deep rumble of his voice, helps Evan fall asleep.

The research bouts aren't the only way Tommy engages Evan's mind. A nurse advised Tommy to regularly assess Evan's cognitive function. Initially, Tommy tries using crossword puzzles and simple math problems, but Evan quickly becomes bored. So, Tommy starts asking questions to jog Evan's memories—about birthdays, how their friends take their coffee, recipes and special events.

"What was the first city I flew Eddie to?" Tommy asks, fingers brushing through Evan’s curls as he’s sitting behind him on the bed, Evan leaning against his chest.

Evan grumbles, "I have a concussion, not amnesia."

"Do you know the answer or not?" Tommy presses.

"Vegas, and I also remember that you stood me up for it," Evan says, lifting his chin defiantly to look at him with accusatory eyes. 

"You did get to buy me a beer later.”

Scorn tinges Evan’s voice. “Oh, it feels so good to be a second priority.”

Tommy stifles a sigh, managing to keep a straight face. "What was the name of the restaurant we went to on our first date?"

"Abandon-me-at-the-fronteria."

Laughter threatens to break out of Tommy's chest but he suppresses it as well, pressing his lips together and burying his face into Evan’s hair. Evan can be really fucking funny when he's acting like a brat, Tommy will give him that. That’s not a compliment Tommy should ever say out loud, though.

"Close enough," Tommy deadpans.

Eddie isn’t spared either during his visits. One time, he foolishly believes that Evan would be interested in hearing about the science project he’s working on with Cristopher and how well it’s coming along, only to throw a startled look at Tommy when Evan replies with a curt, “Good to know you’re having so much fun without me.”

Eddie texts him later.

Eddie: Please tell me he doesn’t act like that all the time

Tommy: He does sleep occasionally

Eddie: I bet you fluff his pillows and tuck him in after he curses your ancestors

Tommy: Don’t forget the kiss on the forehead

Eddie: You have the patience of a saint, man

Tommy: You’re patient with him too

Eddie: Because I get to leave

Tommy: I very much plan on screaming into a pillow when I can be loud again

Eddie: TMI

Laughter spills out of Tommy, and he just finishes replying with an emoji wearing a halo when Evan pipes up, “Rub it in my face that I can’t talk to anyone, why don’t you.”

“You just talked to Eddie.”

“That’s not the same.”

Tommy spends the rest of the evening catching Evan up on the 118 group chat, reading messages aloud and typing out Evan’s replies. Unable to resist, he puts on a different impression for each person—like a deep and steady tone for Bobby or a high, nurturing one for Maddie. He keeps it up until Evan starts to complain about his headache getting worse.

Not everything they do requires patience. In fact, there is one moment in particular that will forever be etched in Tommy's memory as one of the happiest of his life.

Only a small light in the living room is on, casting a warm, indirect glow up to the bedroom on the upper floor. Tommy has Evan in his arms, giving him support, and they're gently swaying back and forth, Tommy humming the melody of a song whose title has slipped his mind, intermingled with nonsensical lyrics he only half recalls. Slow dancing counts as low impact exercise, right?

Evan seems to agree, judging by the way he happily sighs into Tommy's neck, his warm, wet breath sending shivers down Tommy's spine.

If heaven exists, and if Tommy were allowed in, this is what it would feel like.

Until Evan starts kissing his neck. Tommy mindlessly leans his head back, giving Evan more room to explore Tommy's skin with his mouth. Evan's movements become more heated and demanding, and Tommy hisses when Evan bites a bruise into his throat. Only when Evan begins to open the buttons of his shirt does Tommy put up any resistance.

"Evan..." Tommy half-heartedly tries to push him away. "Evan, we can't—not yet."

Evan keeps clinging to Tommy and insists, "Come on. It's been so long. I'm almost healed." Nuzzling into the spot where neck meets shoulder, his breath comes hot and uneven against the sensitive skin. Fingers fumble with the buttons of Tommy’s shirt, lips trailing downward until they reach the coarse curls of his chest hair. Evan buries his face into the dip between Tommy’s pecs, inhaling deeply and moaning as if intoxicated by the scent.

The sensation sends a flush of warmth through Tommy, electric currents racing up his spine. He can feel himself getting hard in his pants at a speed that makes him dizzy, his body betraying him even as his mind fights to stay in control. Still, he doesn’t budge. "Almost isn't fully." 

He tugs at Evan's hair to lift his head, which in hindsight isn’t a great idea—Evan moans at the feeling, a soft, involuntary sound that sends a jolt of heat straight to Tommy’s core. Evan follows Tommy's lead for a moment, but then leans in, pressing his forehead against Tommy's. "Tommy, please," he begs, his voice barely above a whisper, plush lips brushing his. "I need you." The yearning in his voice reverberates in Tommy’s chest, and it’s just as delicious as the feeling of their bodies rubbing together when Evan starts to grind against him.

It’s impossible not to entertain all the vivid images flooding Tommy’s mind. It would be so easy to give in. They could be gentle. Tommy could blow him or ride him or hold on to Evan’s spread legs as he carefully rocks into him, letting Evan do nothing but lie there and look pretty, his breath hitching and thighs trembling as Tommy surrenders to his wishes, gives him what he wants. Evan’s back would arch, his hands gripping the sheets, and his moans would fill the room as he throws his head back in pleasure—

"No." Tommy tears himself away, allowing no contact between them. His voice has been in quiet mode for almost two weeks now, so his rejection comes across as startlingly loud, despite it still being softer than his usual conversational volume.

The ceiling lights don’t have to be on for Tommy to know that big, fat tears are starting to well up in Evan's eyes. The wet huff escaping his lips and the way he hugs himself tell Tommy enough.

"I don’t actually need you, you know?" Evan spits, voice corrosive with acidity and venom. "I can take care of myself. You can't stop me."

A pit wants to open in Tommy’s stomach, and he’s holding it together by sheer force of will. 

Evan doesn’t mean it like that. He’s just upset. He doesn’t mean it. This isn’t about you.

Tommy closes his eyes for a second, as if that could help him ignore the ache in his chest, and reminds himself to breathe. Squaring his shoulders, he focuses on the situation at hand. Part of him actually wants to try to stop Evan, but he knows he won't win this fight. 

"Be careful then,” Tommy says, his voice purposely steady. “Make sure to do it lying down. And don't finger yourself. Your coordination isn't quite there yet, and you could move your head too much trying to get the right angle."

The next sound leaving Evan's mouth is less of a huff and more of a snarl. "Fine. Have it your way." Evan takes off his clothes and climbs onto the bed, all of his movements filled with spite, uncoordinated as they may be.

Tommy picks up the clothes that Evan has haphazardly thrown across the room and says, in the calmest voice he can muster, "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

The short, bitter laugh that bursts from Evan makes him realize how unfortunate his word choice has been.

"I’d say the same, but clearly you don’t need me,” Evan talks back, his tone dripping with resentment. “So I’ll just stay here, all by myself, moaning and begging for it."

Tommy balls his fists into the clothes he’s carrying to keep himself from arguing about how wrong Evan is. That wouldn’t actually be doing Evan any favors right now. He doesn’t mean it. Instead, he feigns an unaffected hum. "Have fun."

The pillow Evan throws at him nearly makes it to the lower floor, but Tommy manages to catch it just in time. He drops Evan's shorts in the process, but oh well—Tommy takes a deep breath—he can just pick them up again.

Tommy puts the pillow back in its place, unable to resist stealing a glance at Evan, who lets out a performative moan when he wraps his hand around himself. Tommy quickly averts his gaze and hurries down the stairs.

If Tommy spends longer than necessary in the bathroom, that is between him and the sink. And the floor. And Evan’s shirt, which he presses to his face, inhaling deeply and moaning into the fabric as the muffled, exaggerated sounds of pleasure from upstairs make his stomach twist with arousal and longing. He's just here to do laundry, that’s all.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

For Evan and Tommy, intimacy is as natural as breathing, and the idea of going long without sex feels almost unthinkable. If it were up to them, they’d stay in bed all the time. But life happens, and sometimes one of them is stuck in bed for entirely different reasons, needing the other to care for them while they're recovering.

That makes it all the sweeter when the doctor finally gives Evan the green light to return to normal.

They could just attack each other's lips and exchange blowjobs or handjobs for quick relief when they get home. Evan could fuck him. Tommy would be more than happy to spread his legs for Evan and let him do as he pleases. But he knows that's not what Evan wants right now. Once Evan gets his hands on him, he will want all of him. Once he gets his hands on Evan, he will want to give him all.

‘All of him” requires some work, though. If Evan gets fucked regularly, he generally has a pretty easy time taking Tommy without too much preparation. Getting fingered or licked open is usually enough. A dick that big leaves a lasting impression, Evan has joked—multiple times.

However, when there's a long break, Evan needs to go through an entire routine to prepare himself for Tommy, to get his hole adjusted to that size again, similar to what they did when he made love to Evan the first time—good hydration, some stretching and breathing exercises, a hot bath to relax Evan's muscles and ensure he's nice and thoroughly clean.

Tommy starts by massaging Evan's back, digging his fingers into his shoulders and along the curve of his spine until Evan groans. He tries to keep it relaxing for Evan, but soon Evan begins to wiggle, urging Tommy to hurry up. Evan demands it knowing that Tommy won't.

It's moments like these when Tommy enjoys teasing Evan's hole with his fingers without ever actually entering it for a while. Instead, he taps, strokes, pulses and circles around it until the ring starts to pulsate as if trying to draw him in—until it remembers him. 

Evan has gone through his prep routine, and now it's time for Tommy to go through his, which involves tongue and finger-fucking Evan until he's crying and begging into the pillow.

He licks and sucks at Evan’s hole, devouring it like it’s candy and moaning at the taste. Excess saliva fills Evan up from the inside, dripping down his taint and balls, making him even wetter than he already is. Tommy spits on it for good measure. 

When it’s not Tommy’s lips and tongue teasing Evan—his stubble providing a fine rasp against sensitive skin—it’s his fingers pumping and scissoring inside him, massaging his prostate regularly but nowhere near enough for Evan’s liking. Every now and then, Tommy hooks both his index and middle fingers into Evan, spreading him wide so he can push and flick his tongue into the gaping opening.

Tommy is scraping together the last remnants of his patience for this, and he has no idea where they’re coming from, other than the knowledge that he doesn’t want to hurt Evan.

And maybe, just maybe, he wants to chastise Evan’s hole for having forgotten him.

"Tommy, I can't," Evan whines, punching the mattress with his fist in a pitiful release of frustration. "I need it so bad! Come on, give it to me—"

Tommy must be closer to his breaking point than expected, and he only realizes it when he hears a loud smack followed by Evan throwing his head back and fucking yelling at the top of his lungs. With a startled flutter of his lashes, Tommy registers what just happened.

He just spanked Evan's hole.

There's a moment of stillness as Tommy tries his damned best to assess the situation based on Evan's reaction. Then Evan turns his head, and Tommy catches a glimpse of his beautiful face—red and splotchy to the point where his birthmarks are almost invisible, with pillow creases marking his skin and lashes damp with tears. Both his lips and eyes are shiny, red and wide open with surprise and something that Tommy would like to call wonder.

"Was that okay?" Tommy asks, his voice extra gentle as if to compensate for what he just did.

A shivery, wet exhale flows from Evan’s lungs before his arms give out and his head falls back onto the pillow. Tommy can still see Evan’s pretty profile, and it takes him a moment to realize that the way Evan is rubbing his face into the fabric is meant to be a nod. “Yeah. Yeah, that was okay,” Evan whispers.

"You want more?" Another nod. That wouldn't do. "Words, Evan."

A kittenish noise escapes Evan and he starts squirming again. "Yes, Daddy. Please, Daddy, I want more." Evan stretches his back and lifts his ass, as if he thinks he needs to bring his hole closer to sway Tommy.

A ball of arousal tightens its grip on Tommy's insides before bursting, sending bolts of intoxicating pleasure through his body. It's reminiscent of the rush he feels when he's flying—that swooping thrill so addictive in nature one can't help but crave to relive it again and again. As Tommy's eyes flutter shut, he takes a moment to savor the sensation, his mind already replaying the sight and sound of his boyfriend trying to entice him—and succeeding. God, Evan is exquisite. Always, of course, but especially when he falls into a mood like this.

Tommy takes a deep breath and calms his nerves. He needs his bearings for what's to come.

"Evan." Tommy's hands settle on Evan's waist, his thumbs lightly digging into the curve of his spine as he holds him steady. He trails his fingers along the line of his back, shaping Evan’s form to his liking and making him arch prettily. Tommy’s body follows the upward motion of his hands until he can speak into Evan’s ear, attempting nonchalance, though the rasp in his throat betrays him as he asks, “How many days has it been since I last fucked you?” “Seventeen,” Evan replies without a moment's hesitation, a breathless hitch in his voice revealing his anticipation. The corners of Tommy’s lips curl up at that. Of course Evan would know the answer. Tommy could probably ask him about the hours, the minutes, the temperature, and Evan would fondly reminisce about the last time Tommy's cock was buried in his ass, down to the very last detail. Over the past two weeks, Evan hasn’t answered any of Tommy’s questions with as much eagerness as this one. Cognitive function? Check.

“And why is that?”

“C-cause I got hurt?” 

Evan’s reply is endearingly timid, which is why Tommy doesn’t tsk before he retorts, “Close, but no. Try again.”

A miserable little mewl escapes Evan’s mouth, disappointed that he didn’t get it right the first time. Happier noises start filling the room—musical, airy notes—when Tommy’s dick finds the cleft of Evan’s ass. “Please—” Evan starts begging, distracted by the contact. Tommy’s grip on Evan’s shoulders tightens before he can lose himself completely. “Evan. Evan,” he repeats with more force when Evan continues to writhe. “Try again.”

Evan fusses and hides his face in the pillow once more, his voice muffled as he admits, “Cause I was careless.”

Evan's curls feel damp as Tommy begins to stroke them. The gentle touch gives Evan the courage to glance at him again from the corner of his eye. Tommy leans in and kisses his cheek, cooing, "Good boy, Evan." Another one of Evan’s sweet sounds chimes through the air, but Tommy doesn’t let him bask in the praise for too long. He continues, "Yes, you were careless. But that's not the reason either."

"Wha—why then?" Genuine confusion furrows Evan's brows, and he pouts in a way that Tommy can only describe with one word: adorable, adorable, adorable.

Tommy leans in, his forehead touching Evan’s temple, careful of the healing wound there, and nuzzles against Evan’s cheek. “Because you’re precious and I had to be gentle with you. Wanted to be, so you can heal properly.” His tone shifts from soft explanation to a husky tease, a wicked, feral edge creeping into his words when he rasps, “But I can be rough with you now, can’t I, Evan?”

Pouting lips part to release a floating, weak little gasp, followed by a needy, “Yes, pleasepleaseplease—”

Tommy plants a quick kiss on the corner of Evan’s mouth to quiet him before continuing, “You know what that means?” Evan shakes his head as best as he can. “I will give you seventeen hits, baby boy, one for each day we couldn’t do this.” Tommy emphasizes the last word with a thrust, making Evan moan eagerly. “And you will count them all and say ‘thank you, Daddy’ after each one. Alright?”

“Yes! Yes, thank you, Daddy, yes—” “After I spank your hole, Evan, not before.” Tommy lets sweet condescension drip from his tongue, underlining the lewdness of the words, ensuring he voices what Evan is begging for out loud.

Another high-pitched mewl leaves Evan, followed by a distraught cry as Tommy pulls himself away from him. Tommy keeps one of his hands on Evan's back to prevent him from following his movements. “Stay.”

Evan goes still, except for his fists kneading the sheets, desperate to release his pent up energy somehow. Tommy should give his hands something better to do. “Hold yourself open for me.” Evan scrambles to follow his order. “Very good, sweet boy.”

Tommy takes a few precious seconds to enjoy the sight in front of him—Evan presenting himself for Tommy, his hole wet, puffy and pretty in pink, winking at Tommy eagerly.

The first smack comes as a surprise to both of them. For a moment, Tommy considers dragging things out, but apparently, he doesn’t have that in him anymore. The sound of shock that shoots out of Evan’s lungs tells him he made the right call. Evan likely also assumed Tommy would tease some more.

Tommy waits, then chides when he hears nothing. “Evan.” Evan gasps, realizing his mistake and hurrying to correct it. “One! Thank you, Daddy.” Two, three, four and five follow in quick succession, the slapping sound made even more obscene by the wetness of lube and saliva spread between Evan’s cheeks. The next strikes follow a more irregular pattern, keeping Evan on his toes, each impact ripping through him like an earthquake. Tommy spanks with enough force to make it sting, to make the nerves feel raw and exposed—the kind of pain that makes you hiss and lean into it. 

Evan’s howls turn into keens with each hit, but he doesn't forget Tommy's instructions again. He does struggle to maintain a firm grip on his cheeks every now and then, his hands slick with sweat, but he manages to regain control each time.

Tommy takes a break at ten to check on Evan’s condition. Evan has stopped burying his face in the pillow, head tilted to the side again, likely because he needs air. His chest heaves beneath him and soft whimpers leave his mouth with each exhale. 

“You okay?” It takes Evan a couple of seconds to realize he’s being spoken to, but once he does, he nods. “Seven more, you think you can take it?” Tommy asks more clearly. A nod, again. “What did I tell you about using your words, Evan?”

“Yes, thank you, Daddy,” Evan rushes to deliver breathlessly, having reached the point where he mindlessly uses the phrase like a punctuation mark. Tommy couldn’t be prouder.

Tommy leans down to kiss Evan's skin, first grazing his hand and then his ass with a gentle brush of his lips, punctuated by another sharp smack to his hole. 

All the sweet reactions he used to elicit from Evan come flooding back as he remembers slapping his dick against Evan's cheeks and hole, teasing him with the heft of it before letting him feel it from the inside. He should have realized earlier just how into this Evan would be.

By the time Tommy reaches the end, an endless string of sobs is wracking Evan’s body, interspersed with heartbreaking hiccups whenever Evan is forced to inhale. Tommy makes sure that the last spank is the hardest one.

“Ah! Hah- oooh, s-se-sev'nteen, th'nkyuDaddy,” Evan barely manages to slur in between his whimpers, but like a dutiful little trooper, he perseveres.

Tommy takes a good look at his creation.

Evan’s right cheek is squished into the pillow, his mouth slack-jawed, and he’s either uncaring or unaware of how much he’s drooling. His eyes, red-rimmed and glazed over, appear to gaze at nothing at all, unfocused, feverish and fuck-drunk, despite Evan not even having had a dick inside him yet. Maybe next time they do this, Tommy will place a vibrating egg against Evan’s prostate, see if he can come from that and the sting of spanks against his hole alone. A different kind of fucking.

Evan’s cock is a mess, just like the rest of him, twitching when air touches it and slowly but steadily leaking an obscene amount of precum onto the towel beneath him, thoughtfully placed there just for this purpose. Tommy’s mouth is watering with the urge to lap it up, but he resists. No distractions. He can still taste a hint of Evan’s ass, rich and carnal, on his tongue and that is enough to sustain him for now. 

Speaking of... Tommy's eyes fixate on the focal point of his masterpiece. A bright red circle glows around Evan's hole which pulsates to the rhythm of blood pumping beneath the skin. Tommy hovers his hand above it, dead certain he can feel the radiance of heat emanating from the area. He’ll have to treat it later, with Evan spreading his cheeks for Tommy so he can apply cooling, soothing aloe vera gel to the skin.

A deep, primal groan rumbles up from the depths of Tommy’s chest, and he can feel the last shreds of his self-control coming apart. He hurriedly grabs some lube to slick his cock, hissing in discomfort as he touches it and quickly pulls his hand away as if burned. His dick has been neglected for so long, and it’s letting him know just how displeased it is—angry red and overfilled with sensitivity. Tommy softens his touch; the caress of his feather-light fingers gradually gives way to careful strokes, maintaining the movement until he no longer feels like he might burst out of his skin. Once he feels ready, he gives Evan’s hole a soft parting kiss and crawls up his body, making sure his chest is fully pressed against Evan’s back.

Evan isn’t begging anymore, too out of it to understand what’s happening when Tommy starts feeding him his dick. Tommy didn’t forget that it’s been a while, but he isn’t taking it anywhere near as slowly as he usually would. He can’t.

A beautiful, silent O forms on Evan’s lips when he realizes that he’s finally getting what he’s been panting for all this time, eyes widening in pleasure-shock at the feeling, and his hands clawing at any part of Tommy he can find. His feet begin to lift off the bed at the same measured pace Tommy is entering him, as if every muscle in his body contracts more and more the deeper Tommy goes. All muscles, that is, except for the ring around Tommy’s cock, stretched wide and striving to stay open. Tommy can only imagine what it must feel like to be filled after such sweet torture to his hole—nerves oversensitized and rewired to perceive pleasure and pain as one and the same.

Only when Tommy’s hips are flush against Evan’s ass does a wanton moan break out of Evan, his legs thudding down onto the bed as his eyes roll into the back of his head from the pressure of Tommy’s cock against his sweet spot.

Evan chokes on a sob, saliva-garbled exclamations of “guh-good, s-so good” spilling from his lips, and tries to call for him, if his broken “Da-!” is supposed to mean anything, letting Tommy know that he can start moving and—

God.

This.

This is the moment Tommy has been waiting for over two fucking weeks—the moment where he’s finally allowed to snap, not a single cell in his body capable of patience or self-control anymore.

He practically throws his cock into Evan’s hole, not holding back on the power in his muscles, pistoning in and out as if trying to punch Evan’s prostate with each snap of his hips.

Tommy should probably put a hand over Evan’s mouth, muffle his howls and wails and sobs, his cries of yes! and please! and Daddy!, but he’s too far gone to deny himself the reward of Evan’s ecstasy. If Evan’s neighbors end up struggling with eye contact after this, that’s their issue.

For some reason, Evan’s orgasm takes him by surprise, untouched and early as it is, even though it really shouldn’t, considering how long Tommy has been dragging him along. The tight, spasming clench of Evan’s hole makes his hips stutter, but even that isn’t enough to restrain him. He grabs a fistful of Evan’s hair, both to pin him down, to stop him from thrashing around too much, and as leverage to put even more force behind the relentless push-pull-shove of his thrusts.

Normally, he would comment on how quickly Evan came, especially when it happens solely through prostate play. Evan has told him how much he adores it, unpredictable as it is—both the physical sensation and the meaning Evan has given it, the feeling of being a good hole for Tommy. Depending on the mood, Tommy either rewards him with soft words for surrendering to his pleasure, or teases him for being easy, praise glazed with honey-sweet mockery. Tommy doesn’t even have that in him anymore.

“I’m not stopping,” Tommy warns instead, voice guttural and feral with savagery, unrecognizable even to him.

Evan accepts his fate if the way one of his hands shoots out to the headboard is any indication—support to hold on for the ride. He could say his safeword if he truly wanted Tommy to stop. Instead, Evan grabs the pillow and bites into the fabric, bearing the overstimulation with scrunched shut eyes, gritted teeth and desperate grunts, unable to sing his pleasure through pretty moans anymore with how shot his voice is.

The tight heat of Evan around him—his body safe and sound beneath him, right where he’s meant to be—consumes Tommy entirely. He pounds into Evan’s hole with enough force—hard and deep—to make the flesh of his cheeks ripple with each slap of skin on skin. Evan’s knees start to slip on the sheets, drifting further and further apart with each punishing pump, until the insides of his thighs must be aching. Tommy imagines the tip of Evan’s cock brushing through his own spilled cum, steadily leaking a delicious mess onto the towel, as it bops up and down each time Tommy’s hips bounce off of his ass.

His climax creeps up on him like a bird of prey, lurking but undetectable until it grabs him by the throat—pleasure clawing its way through his body until it releases itself in unrestrained, rapturous groans resounding through the loft as he fucks his load into Evan, filling him up with hot fluid. That of all things earns Tommy a small delighted squeal from Evan, sweet, little cumslut that he is.

Tommy doesn’t give Evan a chance to think it’s over. While his length still twitches and jerks with the force of his orgasm, he reaches for Evan’s. He doesn’t know if Evan’s cock has refilled or if it never really went down, and it doesn’t matter. All Tommy cares about is the silky-wet feel of it in his hands as he begins to stroke it.

“Nnng-ooh—!,” Evan whines pitifully, reflexively placing his hand on top of Tommy’s but doing nothing to move it away. Tommy’s not sure if that was a moan or a no, and Evan likely doesn’t know either. Another thing that doesn’t matter. Tommy’s hand is wet in seconds from how much Evan’s cock is drooling for a fist to fuck into.

“You’re not done yet,” Tommy growls. It will take a few more minutes for Tommy’s erection to fully go down. He clenches his jaw against the sharp sting of overstimulation coursing through his body and makes the most of that timeframe, rolling his hips into Evan and scraping his sweet spot in staccato rhythm. “Come on, sweet boy, give it to me,” Tommy urges, echoing Evan’s earlier plea, the gentleness of the pet name contrasted by the roughness in his voice.

Evan doesn’t stand a chance against the double stimulation, torn between arching back into the stretch of Tommy’s cock deep inside him and thrusting into Tommy’s fist as he empties his balls again, thick ropes of cum adding to the mess already on the towel. Evan makes his own anguished bliss known to the walls as his body convulses uncontrollably, giving Tommy a reminder of just how strong Evan is. It’s almost as if he’s trying to put his feet flat on the bed and lift up to get Tommy off him, bucking like a mechanical bull that doesn’t understand it’s meant to be ridden. Tommy puts Evan in a loose chokehold to gain better control and then flings them to their sides, still milking Evan for every last drop. Only when the hand on top of his starts pulling at his wrist does Tommy let go.

Tommy stares at his hand for a second, moving his fingers in a come-hither motion to marvel at the beauty of the pearly white fluid covering it. He contemplates licking his skin clean but ultimately decides against it. He knows he would get lost in the taste, and his desire to touch Evan takes over. Instead, he wipes his hand on the towel and then rests it on Evan's heaving stomach, mindlessly playing with the trail of hair there. Tommy buries his nose in Evan's hair, inhaling deeply as he catches his breath and holds him through the twitches and trembles rocking his body.

Peppering sweet, light kisses along Evan’s neck, Tommy waits for him to calm down—keeping them connected, Evan filled up the way Tommy knows he likes—until Evan feels ready to part.

After a little while, Tommy lifts his head in confusion when he notices that the shaking doesn’t subside, sniffling sounds filling the air.

“Evan?” Tommy asks carefully, receiving a hitching breath in response. “Evan, what’s wrong? Is it your leg?” he adds in alarm.

Evan digs his stubby nails into Tommy’s wrist and shakes his head, his voice thick with tears as he stutters, “I-I-I’m sorry, ‘m s-so sor-”

Tommy tightens his grip on Evan and hushes him as gently as he can. “Shh, sweetheart, there’s no need for that. Why would you be sorry?”

“I-I d-didn’ mean t-to hurt.” 

Tommy tries to make sense of the phrasing. Hurt who? Himself or others? Regardless, his heart aches for Evan at the thought of how exhausting the last two weeks must have been for him—physically and emotionally vulnerable, feeling both overwhelmed by and disconnected from the world. He must have felt incredibly isolated and confined when everything he usually loves caused sensory overload—stuck in a dark place in more ways than one.

“My sweet darling,” Tommy soothes. “I know you didn’t. This wasn’t a punishment. You know that, right? I just wanted to make you feel good.”

“I-I know. And y-you do— you take s-such good care of me…”

A shivery exhale escapes Evan and he starts curling in on himself. Tommy mirrors the movement, embracing him more securely—as if holding on firmly enough could stop the shaking of Evan’s body. He caresses the skin beneath his palms and responds in a gentle, calming tone, “Of course I do. I care about you.”

“M-me, too. Me, too,” Evan returns, the words spilling out in a breathless rush, as if trying to convey far more than they can express. He gently squeezes Tommy’s hand and lifts it, pressing it to the rapid beat of his heart. Tommy takes a moment to treasure the words and the proof of Evan alive beneath his palm, his mind already racing for ways to make him well again. He infuses a teasing lilt into his voice as he jokes, “You care about me or yourself?” Thankfully, that has the desired effect—soft, wet laughter bubbling out of Evan as he lightly slaps Tommy’s wrist. “You, of course.”

Tommy hums gently at that. “Well, you should care about yourself. Make sure you come back to me safe, healthy and happy every day.” The light-heartedness fades from his next words, but there’s still a casualness to them, proof of how self-evident they are. “But even if you don’t, I’ll be right beside you.”

“Right beside you,” Evan repeats, his voice carrying a dreamy cadence as his breath evens out more and more.

A sound of agreement rumbles in Tommy’s throat. “For now, we’re going to cuddle a little longer, then I’ll clean us up, we’ll drink some water, and after that, we’re going to sleep. How does that sound?”

Evan nestles his face into the crook of Tommy's arm and gently kisses the skin, his reply a soft brush of lips against it.

"Perfect."

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Bright sunshine is streaming through the window, warming Evan’s skin and making him glow. Just as it should.

A small, content smile curls on Tommy’s lips as he watches his boyfriend sleep, a picture of sweet serenity. When Tommy woke up, he considered getting out of bed to make coffee, but then he decided he was allowed to indulge in the beautiful and dearly missed sight before him: Evan bathed in sunlight.

Tommy’s smile widens even more as he watches the tell-tale signs of Evan waking up: the way his eyes struggle to open, how he scrunches up his nose, the small grumble in the back of his throat—all betraying his reluctance to leave the comfort of rest. Until his eyes find Tommy. Then his expression transforms into one of sleepy joy, his smile slow and sweet, reflecting the bright light of the sky—Tommy’s favorite sight.

“Good morning,” Evan croaks, voice still hoarse and groggy from sleep and sex.

Tommy’s voice is steadier, filled with warmth, as he returns the sentiment in a gentle whisper.

They had fallen asleep facing each other, Evan’s head tucked under Tommy’s chin. Evan must remember this, because after staring at Tommy for a moment longer, he returns to that position, closing his eyes and burying his nose in Tommy’s neck with a pleased exhale.

“You okay?” Tommy can’t help but ask, recalling how last night ended.

Evan makes another satisfied sound. “More than,” he replies happily, a sense of satiation tinting his tone.

It’s Tommy’s turn to sigh and close his eyes in contentment, his fingers gently tracing over Evan’s skin.

For a moment, Tommy thinks Evan has dozed off again until he starts to feel him vibrating in his arms. It takes him a second to understand that the warm puffs of air hitting his skin are giggles bubbling out of Evan's chest.

Evan carefully stretches in his arms, his movements languid and indulgent, and tilts his head to look at him again. “What the hell, Tommy,” he exclaims through breathless, incredulous laughter, his sleepy expression a mix of reverence and playful accusation, as if to say, How dare you ruin me like that?

Tommy’s lips quirk in amusement. “I take it you enjoyed yourself last night?”

Evan raises an eyebrow in mock offense. “I think I saw the face of God. And I’m not very religious.”

It’s Tommy’s turn to laugh. Evan is so damn lovable Tommy wants to squish him. He does exactly that, tightening his arms around him as he jokes, “Was he good-looking?”

The sun has nothing on the grin Evan is giving him. “Yeah. He had a cleft in his chin.” One of Evan's thumbs finds its way to said spot, a favorite resting place, as he leans in to give him a chaste kiss—morning breath be damned.

Tommy hides his smile against Evan's lips, adding another moment to his ever-growing collection of Happiest Memories. There have been many more since Evan came into his life.

Evan slowly pulls away and makes sure to rub their noses together before leaning back to look at him again. His eyes lock onto Tommy's, and for a moment, he simply stares. "Tommy?" Evan breathes, his voice laced with achingly soft tenderness. "Thank you."

“I think you said that enough times yesterday,” Tommy deadpans.

“No, I mean—thank you,” Evan repeats emphatically. “For—for everything. For being there. For being you. God, I—,” breathless laughter interrupts Evan’s words for a moment, “I-I can’t believe how lucky I am.” His eyes are filled with unapologetic warmth and sincerity, that unique brand of earnestness he exudes. It always makes Tommy feel small and delicate, as if he’s looking at something much larger than himself—something that could crush him but promised it wouldn’t. The desire to cherish is palpable, and Tommy feels like he’s staring at the sun. He has to look away.

“You would do the same for me,” Tommy shrugs awkwardly. It’s supposed to be a wave-away statement, a Don’t mention it, and Tommy freezes when he realizes the true implications of his words.

Two thoughts fill his head simultaneously. How can you possibly think someone could ever feel such devotion for you? and Of course Evan would take care of you, he’s the best person you’ve ever known. Ideas so at odds with each other that the cognitive dissonance makes Tommy’s head hurt.

Evan must see something in his expression, something that stirs his urge to comfort, because the next thing he does is take Tommy’s hand. Tommy looks back just in time to watch Evan press a kiss against it. The words he breathes against the skin carry such a profound sense of truth that they act like Tylenol on Tommy’s nerves.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

[loveandleases]

In a zombie apocalypse, in the style of The Last Of Us, would the Ros manage to survive like in this world, would they give their lives to protect Mc?

I think all of them would give their lives to protect MC. I'm not including Jade in that of course.

❤️ Cam - He would become very resourceful, he's stil hotheaded in his ways, but he is also more cautious of what's going on. Who can and can't be trusted. He'll likely have a few close calls, but I think he would survive. (until much much later and be killed off in a heartbreaking way. but i would never do that so.)

💙 G - They try their best to hide their emotions, how everything is falling apart around them and it only worsens their mood. They would definitely be putting their medical knowledge to good use. Their would be more noticeable cracks in the mask they wear, chipped away by the horror that is now their life. And they would be more honest with themselves and their feelings, because their time is so limited.

💚 Kara - I could see her using her charm to get by, which in her opinion is wasteful of her time and her energy. But if it keeps them safe, then she would have no problem with it. She can be cunning, and I think this would be the perfect time for her to show it. Her dominating personality would really push her to take action, and maybe even cause her to bump head with others.

💛 M - They will pull out some serious zombie knowledge. From the B rated movies they loved before, to anime/manga even games. M really tries to make things make sense. Honestly this spurns their creativity and that is something that would become a bit of a crutch for them, a form of escape. But escaping isn't something they have the time to do, they have to come to terms with whats happening. It would be a trying time for M, and MC would have to help them through it. M isn't always happy-go-lucky. They've dealt with horrible situations before. This is just another facet of that, and they would deal with it. And become someone that MC could really depend on.

💜 Isaac - Death they know oh too well. It's already shaped them in ways they've still not dealt with. (certain spoiler things about Isaac would come in helpful navigating this new life) Isaac would constantly be worried about MC. Especially when they've come to terms with their feelings. To the point they would make some dumb choices that could cost them their life. But if it means MC is safe... then it's a cost Isaac would pay ten-fold. They would be really good at bartering, and likely become a runner. Dangerous but the pay is good. It at least gives them some stability. There isn't one decision he makes that doesn't take MC into consideration.

🖤 Ardent - (this idiot would get himself killed because he doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut.) The good thing about him, he paints a very dominating image. One that many would think twice about trying to take advantage of. Not to mention the way he talks, with bite to his words, Ardent makes more enemies than friends. But that's fine, because friends close, enemies closer. This way, he knows who to suspect. I think he would likely lose Cupid, not because she dies but because he wants her safe, and Ardent knows its not safe to be with him in the city. That would really break him. Which means it's a good thing he has MC. Ardent would be the type to push others away, thinking it's for their safety, but MC would be the one to remind him that they’re capable of making their own choices and don’t need him to shield them from everything.

[hopelesslyprosaic]

I feel like The Six Napoleons is one of the best Granada episodes, and part of why is, of course, That Scene.

By which of course I mean this one:

All genius, but of course, even more specifically, the bit starting at about 5:52. You know the scene I mean, and if you don't by all means watch it!

Honestly, it's an in-a-nutshell demonstration of the greatness of both canon and the Granada adaptation.

Here's the scene from the book:

“Well,” said Lestrade, “I’ve seen you handle a good many cases, Mr. Holmes, but I don’t know that I ever knew a more workmanlike one than that. We’re not jealous of you at Scotland Yard. No, sir, we are very proud of you, and if you come down to-morrow there’s not a man, from the oldest inspector to the youngest constable, who wouldn’t be glad to shake you by the hand.” “Thank you!” said Holmes. “Thank you!” and as he turned away it seemed to me that he was more nearly moved by the softer human emotions than I had ever seen him. A moment later he was the cold and practical thinker once more. “Put the pearl in the safe, Watson,” said he, “and get out the papers of the Conk-Singleton forgery case. Goodbye, Lestrade. If any little problem comes your way I shall be happy, if I can, to give you a hint or two as to its solution.”

And here's the dialogue from the show:

Lestrade: I’ve seen you handle a good many cases in my time, but I don’t know that I ever knew a more workmanlike one than this. We’re not jealous of you, you know, at Scotland Yard. No, sir, we are proud of you, and if you come down to-morrow there’s not a man, from the oldest inspector to the youngest constable, who wouldn’t be glad to shake you by the hand. Holmes: Thank you! Thank you! Would you get down the Conk-Singleton forgery case please, Watson? Goodbye, Lestrade. If any little problem comes your way I shall be happy, if I can, to give you a hint or two as to its solution.

Not many differences! ACD knew what he was doing- he knew how to write a good yarn, he knew how to write good characters, and he knew how to write a good interaction. Granada wasn't filmed in canon order, so we don't get to see the progression of Holmes's relationship with Lestrade per se, but after a number of excellent, more "foiled again!" type Holmes-Lestrade interactions since A Study in Scarlet, ACD decided to do something cool and different here and pulled it off beautifully.

And when the director and writer of this Granada episode put this one together, they decided that the relationship between Holmes and Lestrade should be a focal point in this episode, and not only did they barely need to change a dang thing in the ending to do it, what small things they did change were all beautifully in the service of the tone of the original ending, taking advantage of the brilliant material they had to work with. I was just relistening to the excellent episode of the Jeremy Brett Sherlock Holmes Podcast discussing The Six Napoleons, and one of them points out that one of the few text changes is removing the word "very"- going from "we are very proud of you" to "we are proud of you." And it works so well- it accentuates the contrast with the previous suggested notion that they would otherwise be jealous, between what Holmes might have expected to hear (and, indeed, perhaps expected to WANT to hear) and the actuality, and how much more meaningful it turns out that is to Holmes.

The creators here- and I of course include the actors, as both Colin Jeavons and Jeremy Brett act the fuck out of this- are so smart with how they pull this off. They know that what they have on the page is gold, but they also know how they can buff it up for a stronger shine. They know that Brett will absolutely eat up all of ACD's stage directions about his response, he knows the character inside and out at this stage, so let's keep the scene the way it is and, instead, build the rest of the episode around setting up this scene in such a way that it will have maximum impact as written.

There is one thing that is added- and that's the handshake at the end, that Holmes offers to Lestrade. We don't know what happens after Holmes's final words in the story, but in the episode, the physical acting continues telling the story only implied in the text of the short story- Lestrade is a bit thrown by Holmes's reversion back to his old, casually cutting self, but rolls with it, only for Holmes to extend his hand to him. Lestrade seems, even, slightly surprised- this is, perhaps, Holmes's rare gesture of pride in him.

[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY FOURTH; side a — about you - the 1975 | d. lizewski x reader

w; dave & r is aged up (both in their twenties!), ‘old flames’ (really just best friends - who have lost touch but still remember everything about one another - to lovers) reunite, i sort of change the story about his dad (he’s still kick a—!) an; i had to change up his dad’s story about getting beaten </3 for the plot to work. i hope no one minds and everyone enjoys at least!!!!

mixtape here!

Your chin rests in the palm of your hands as your eyes glance around the restaurant, fingers slowly tapping against the table as you let out a small sigh. Leaning back, your eyes look down at your phone to check the time and to see if any messages have suddenly appeared. 

Nothing. And an hour late. 

Rubbing your forehead in embarrassment, you stand from your chair and ignore the looks from the many people who sit together with a stupid little red rose and stupid little candles. 

Slipping on your jacket, you quickly grab your clutch and make your way out of the restaurant without a single word to anyone. It’s eight now, and you’d gotten dressed up for nothing. 

You’re aimlessly walking around now — not quite ready to go home, yet not quite sure where to go either. 

Until you’re met with the sight of the familiar comic shop that you used to go to regularly with friends. You don’t go as much anymore — if you do, it’s strictly for a family member’s birthday or to stop by and get coffee, and maybe look to see what all has changed. 

Which, nothing has. It’s a bit brighter inside with new paint and new lights, but other than that, nothing else has changed. Stepping towards the counter, you smile at the teenager behind it. “One iced caramel latte, please.” 

She nods, putting in the order. “Anything else?” 

Glancing over at the case of pastries, you point at a muffin. “A blueberry muffin as well, please.” The girl nods once again, entering it before telling you the price. Handing over the cash, plus a tip for her being so nice — and for working on the suckiest holiday of the year — you step away after telling her your name. 

You walk slowly around the collection of comics, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips. You wished you could go back to being a teenage girl — who had been constantly considered ‘weird’ — even if that meant figuring everything out once again. 

Part of you thinks that, maybe, if you would have the chance to go back, there’s a lot more you would’ve changed. Maybe admitted to others. 

The wave of nostalgia almost knocks you off your feet from the nausea it gives you suddenly. Shaking your head, you pick a superhero that you always gravitate towards — Spider-man. 

You pick up your treats from the counter and make your way towards a table, slipping into a booth and laying everything out before opening the comic book. 

You forget how much the silly little things can pull you in — you hadn’t realized the numbness in your legs, or that the ice in your drink had now melted, watering down the coffee and droplets had left a ring around it. 

Or that someone was in front of you. 

“I see you still get pulled into the pages.” 

Startled, you blink a couple of times and quickly look up at the man who stands in front of the table. Lips parting, your heart drops. “Dave?” 

He grins and nods. “The one and only.” 

Laughing slightly, you slip out of the booth and quickly pull him into a hug. “Oh, my god. Look at you!” You pull away, your hands gripping onto his biceps. “Your…hair! It’s gone!” 

He lets out a small chuckle. “And I hit puberty, finally. So you can’t laugh at me anymore about my squeaky voice.” 

You make a face at that. “Sorry about that.” 

“It was all done in fun,” His brow lifts slightly. “Wasn’t it?” 

“What? Of course it was,” You nod quickly, flushing under his gaze. “I’d never intentionally make fun of you.” 

His demeanor slightly falls before he lets out a soft chuckle. “I know that. I was only teasing,” His eyes fell into the red dress that you’d picked out specifically for today. “Hot date?” 

Looking down at the dress, you tug at the material. “No. Stood me up so I just left,” You shrug a bit. “It was embarrassing walking out to say the least.” 

“He stood you up? There’s no way,” He lets out a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest. “Whoever it is, is clearly missing out.” 

“You’re just saying that.” You roll your eyes, collecting your trash so he wouldn’t catch onto the redness that caught your cheeks aflame. 

“I’m being serious!” He watches as you toss the items, picking up the comic book. He follows behind you, lips pursing a bit before clearing his throat. “Let me take you out.” 

You stop abruptly, causing him to stumble into your back, his hands quickly shooting out to stabilize himself on your arms. “What?” 

“Would it be so weird?” He shrugs as you turn to face him. “You’re already dressed up. Plus, we were best friends,” Your eyes drop down to the ground at that. 

“You can let me take you out on one date. Then you can pretend I never exist again.” 

You frown and quickly look at him. “Dave, I could never forget you,” You shake your head, pinching your brows together. “You were…” Trailing off, your heart skips a beat in your chest as your eyes linger on his blue ones. 

“You were special to me. We just…fell out of contact, is all.” 

Dave nods and glances at the comic in your hand. He reaches out and slowly pulls it from your hand, slipping it back into its designated spot before holding his hand. “Then let me take you out. Just this once.” 

Glancing down at his hand, you place yours into his. He smiles and grips your hand softly, pulling you towards the door without a second thought. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, curiously. If he were to lead you blindly into a burning building, you don’t think you would’ve cared. 

He glances over at you, a small smile pulling at his lips as he shrugs. “For me to know.” 

“And for me to find out.” You sigh playfully, shaking your head. He chuckles and comes to a stop. 

“Wait here,” You watch as he jogs back, confused but you do as he had said, looking around at the busy street and sidewalk, smiling a bit at the loud laughter and singing coming from all around. 

Dave comes back five minutes later, hands behind his back. You turn and lift your brows, tilting your head. “Alright…you’re worrying me now.” That has him chuckling. 

He pulls his arm from behind his back, your smile dropping slightly as you stare at the flowers in his hand — that just so happens to be your favorite. 

He clears his throat a bit. “I remember you saying something about liking these. And I needed to start the date off right.” 

“I said those were my favorite in middle school, Dave—”

“Do you…not like these anymore? I can go and—”

You quickly cut him off. “No. I mean, yes. I still love them. I’m just…” You let out a small laugh, truly in awe about how he even remembered such a small detail about you. “I don’t know how you remembered those were my favorite.” 

He scratches at the side of his neck, shrugging. “I just remember.” 

You smile and gently pull them from his grip, the brown paper crinkling in your hands. “Thank you,” You stare at the petals before your eyes lift and meet his. “I can’t remember when the last time I got flowers was.” 

Never. 

The answer was simply never. No boy — or man, now — has stopped to get you flowers as a simple gift. Not that it’s a necessity to bring flowers to a date, but taking the time and showing you care… 

It’s something that, now you can admit, can make a heart skip a beat. 

He smiles softly and nods. “Yeah…” He clears his throat as he pushes his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Of course. Yeah. I just…I thought it’d be nice.” 

“This was very nice,” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip slightly, the action having his blue eyes drop for a second before looking back up. “Well, Lizewski, lead the way.” 

He smiles a bit and nods, beginning to walk down the sidewalk, your feet following beside him. 

After a couple of moments, he stops abruptly and turns towards you, causing your brows to pinch together in confusion as you look over at him. “Are you—”

“Close your eyes,” He nudges his chin towards you. A small playful smile spreads over his lips when he notices how confused you look at the request. “Just do it.” 

“You aren’t going to—”

“No,” He laughs softly, knowing what you were going to ask. Taking a step over to stand in behind you, his hand grazes your arm as he turns you a bit. Sighing, you give in and allow your eyes to slip shut. You suddenly feel his hands covering your eyes as well. 

“Is this really necessary?” 

“Yes,” His voice is soft and your breath hitches from how close he truly is. “Trust me.” 

You’re rendered speechless only for a moment before you quickly nod. “I do.” 

He smiles softly, allowing you to lead the way as you follow his instructions blindly. “…Okay, stop,”

Your movements cease and you feel the warmth of him disappear — slightly disappointed. “Open.” His voice is now coming from your left side. 

Your eyes slowly open, adjusting a bit to the change of lighting. Your lips part in surprise before a smile tugs at your lips. “It’s still here?” You look away from the treehouse, instead looking at Dave. 

He smiles and nods. “Of course,” He motions towards the house he grew up in. “Dad left the house to me in the will.” 

Your smile slowly fades, shoulders dropping slightly. “James died?” 

He nods a bit. “Sadly, that’s the only reason I’m back,” He clears his throat. “But after cleaning everything out and putting the house on the market—”

“You’re not staying?” 

He stares at you for a moment before shaking his head hesitantly. “No. I’m going back home.” 

I’m going back home. 

It’s not much of anything, but the words have your heart twisting in a painful way and your eyes drop towards the flowers as you nod slightly. He would be leaving you — again. 

But you will not be selfish. Even if you want to. 

“Alright, let’s climb up and see what we used to hide away, shall we?” 

Your eyes lift and a small smile pulls at the corner of your mouth but never fully expands to anything more. You nod and walk towards the tree, placing your flowers onto the chair next to it before crawling up the ladder. 

Pushing the door open, you push yourself up and crawl inside before standing and dusting off your legs. Looking around, the wave of nostalgia is suddenly hitting you once again, almost knocking you back onto the ground. 

Stepping closer to the carving you’d once done, your fingers trace over the initials, a small laugh leaving your lips as your head tilts. 

“Oh, god,” You quickly look over your shoulder, noticing the box Dave was holding. “The green and yellow suit.” You let out a laugh when he holds it up, shaking it a bit. 

You cover your mouth when you notice the look he gives you. “Sorry.” You quickly apologize. 

“You laughing at the super suit?” 

“Uh,” You glance at the suit that he holds in his hands once again, before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” You let out another laugh. He smiles and rolls his eyes, grabbing the mask from the bottom and tosses the box onto the wooden ground. 

He steps over and tugs it down on your head, grinning. “Mhm,” He nods. “You do look like a dork in this.” 

“Ha-ha. Funny,” You roll your eyes, despite the smile that remains glued onto your face. You tug the mask from your head. He lifts his hands and quickly fixes the strands of hair that had covered your face. 

You gulp quietly, feeling the pad of his thumb brush over your cheek as he does so. “Thanks.” 

He nods and pulls his hands away, now turning and sitting down on the small dusty blanket in the corner. Your face scrunches a bit when he does. 

He pats the spot beside him wordlessly. You make your way over and sit next to him, the mask still in your hands. Thumbing the material, you lean your head back on the wood. 

“Are you still…?” 

He bites his cheek slightly before nodding a bit. “I’ll always be,” His eyes linger on the mask in your hands. “Even if I’m not actively out and saving people like I used to when I was a…teenager — God, a teenager,” 

He lets out a small sound of disbelief as he shakes his head. “A part of that is still with me. No matter how much I kind of wish it wasn’t.” 

You nod in understanding. “You got hurt. A lot.” 

“That I did.” He smirks a bit — though, it’s not an amused one. 

You debate on what you're about to say. Tell him now and regret it later. 

Or never say anything and still regret it. 

Inhaling deeply, you will yourself to calm down before speaking. “I thought that first time — when you went into the hospital and your dad called me — that I had…” You pause. You can feel his eyes on you now, rather than the mask in your hands. 

“But, when I came to visit you, you were okay,” You smiled a bit with a nod. “That calmed me. Then, long story short, I found out why you’d ended up in the hospital,” 

You look over at him. “I remember asking you to stop because I didn’t want you to get hurt or worse,” He nods a bit. “You told me I didn’t understand and I never would. Then, Katie and you became a thing and suddenly…you’d listened to her,”

He frowns and looks away quickly. “I’m not mad about it. I mean, at first I was — because I had been your best friend and I thought maybe you’d listen to me, yet you just kind of shrugged me off. But when Katie asked you, you had no problem with the idea,” You shrug a bit. “I was also just a teenager trying to…navigate my feelings. I got angry at you, more than I probably should have.” 

“You never…told me. Or even showed it.” 

“That’s because I loved you, Dave,” He quickly looks back at you. You give him a weak smile and quickly look away when you feel the upcoming tears suddenly tingle and prick at your eyes. You laugh at yourself airly, shaking your head. “And that was a hard thing to feel because I was so…confused. I had never felt that way towards anyone before,” 

“And I was trying to figure out why I would keep letting you in when you’d get hurt and…” You’re now regretting dredging up the past. Because that’s exactly where it’s supposed to stay — in the past. “And I finally figured out when you had left without even really saying anything to me. Not that you had to, because I understand why you wanted to leave, but it still hurt all the same.” 

Dave blinks a couple of times at your words but remains staring at you as he does so. He clears his throat, mouth opening and shutting a few times before only saying; “You loved me?” 

You nod your head. “Yeah. Of course,” You tuck your hair behind your ear and finally place the mask down on the blanket next to you. “It wasn’t just because I grew up with you, it was just because it was…easy,” You shrug. 

“It was easy to love you and I always thought…” You trail off, eyes cutting towards the side to glance out the small window. 

“Thought what?” He asks softly. 

“I had always thought you and I both would’ve…ended up together,” You lean your head back. “It’s a bit silly now to say, especially when I know you had never viewed me that way back then. It was just the typical white fence, big wedding, two kids, type of dream I had.” 

“Why do you think I never thought of you in the same way?” He shakes his head. 

“Oh, come on,” You let out a small scoff, looking over at him. He genuinely looks confused and you lift your head from the wall. “You had gotten Katie. Katie, Dave. You would’ve never gone after someone like me.” 

“That’s not true,” He sits up, pointing towards you. Your brows lift slightly. “That is so not true. I used to try to get you to go on dates with me all the time.” 

“Asking if I wanted to go to the movies — like we always did, might I add — was not asking me on a date,” You let out a small laugh. “Especially if Todd and Marty were joining,” 

He frowns and looks down. You sigh and drop your hand on top of his. “Dave, it’s okay. Really. It’s over now and—”

“Do you still feel the same?” He cuts you off quickly. You stare at him as if you had imagined him saying it. 

After a moment of silence and a slight, silent urge of lifted brows, you speak. “I-I mean…” You purse your lips, your heart beating in your throat now instead of it staying where it needed to stay. 

“I don’t think loving someone ever comes to an end,” You shake your head. “Especially after loving them for so long.” 

Dave stares at you silently for a moment before surging forward and catching your lips with his, his hands cradling your jaw. The initial shock wears off quickly and your fingers are finally wrapping around his wrist gently. 

He slowly pulls away, still staying close where you could feel his breath brush over your lips and the top of his lip graze your own. 

“Did that just—”

“Yeah.” He cuts you off with a whisper. 

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Teenage me is screaming,” You whisper. He snorts, pressing another soft kiss against your lips before the corner of your mouth. “But you didn’t have to do that.” 

He pulls his forehead away from yours, tilting his head a bit. “I wanted to,” He nods. “I’ve always wanted to. I was just too scared to put myself out on the line for you. But I should’ve.” 

“You should’ve,” You nod, leaning into his hand the remains on your cheek. “Are you still going to leave?” You whisper. His eyes remain on yours, a small smile on his face. 

“I think I found a reason to stay.” 

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sstar-ggirl — @pretty-little-mind33 — @love-quinn

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[haorose]

PLSS ANYTHING HAO RELATED I NEED HIMMMMM SOOSO BADDD

this is going to be a little crazy but hear me out!! can you tell i’m obsessed with the walking dead? and me too anon… me too 😵‍💫

your lips, my lips, apocalypse. | z.hao

zhanghao x fem!reader

genre: smut, angst, inspired by twd!

warnings: uh.. sex and zombies

————

humanity hasn’t been the same, nor do you think it will ever be the same. it all happened so quickly.. one person turned into 5, then 10, to millions upon millions. how could it come to this? why hasn’t this been solved? so many questions flooded your mind until the sound of a gun cocking startled you.

“hey, you alright?” hanbin asked, holding a revolver in his right hand. “you’ve been staring at the wall for the past 5 minutes, we gotta head for town.”

“oh.. yeah, i’m fine. just thinking.” you ran a hand through your hair, taking out your pistol that jiwoong gave to you. hanbin chuckled, looking at you. “i know, but we have to keep our heads and hopes up. it’s not over until it’s over, yeah?”

you nodded your head, a reassuring smile on your face. it could’ve been worse for you, you could’ve been a walker or fighting alone. instead, you have a group of 5 strong and smart boys on your side who you’ve grown to adore. well, most at least. zhang hao has avoided you since your arrival, as if he couldn’t trust you. you helped him as much as you could: filling up the water in his flask, making him dinner from the crops you found, and washing his clothes. instead he gave you the cold shoulder, only mumbling a ‘thank you.’

you started heading off with hanbin, keeping cover for him as he made his way to the car. “um.. can i ask you something, bin?” you asked, a squeal leaving your lips as a walker snuck up on you. “yeah sure, what’s up?” he said calmly, stabbing the undead with his karambit. “what’s hao’s issue? you, jiwoong, matt, and taerae all get along with me but he just.. brushes me off like i don’t exist?” hanbin smirked, wiping the blood from his knife. “sounds like someone is a bit sad, huh?” he patted your shoulder, his smirk turning into a smile. “i’ve known him for a while, we formed this group together in order to find our other 4 friends. that was our goal.” you nodded, listening to his story.

“when we found you trying to fight off a herd, we couldn’t just leave you there, you know? hao was the one who suggested to save you, wanting to go in alone. we couldn’t risk that, not one bit. so i offered to go with him, which is how we met. but… you only thanked me. that’s what put him off the edge.”

“really? it was that all this time? and why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you said, angry with yourself. “well y/n, there’s not really time for chit chats anymore. i haven’t had the time to tell you. i’m surprised we even have the time right now.” he said, opening the door to the car. you followed suit, biting your lip. “i’m going to talk to him then, i want to make things right.” you sighed with a faint blush on your cheeks, to which hanbin laughed. “sounds like it’s more than just you two wanting to get along, i think you like him.” you hit his arm, crossing yours. “just shut up and drive.”

you arrived at the camp, saying your hi’s to the other boys as you made your way to hao’s tent. he was sharpening his knives, “what do you want?” he asked coldly, not looking up. “i want to talk, please.” he sighed dramatically, putting his knives down and turning to look at you. he leaned back in his chair with his sleeves rolled up, hair messy, and shirt slightly unbuttoned. he looked.. so fucking hot. “i.. um..” you felt nervous at the way he looked at you, the words getting caught in your throat. “come on, spit it out.” he replied, getting up to lean down near you.

“i’m sorry, really, really sorry. i know it was you who wanted to save me and i never thanked you. i’m truly sorry. please forg-“ your words were cut off by his lips on yours, pulling you into a passionate kiss. his left hand trailed down your waist, hovering over your hips as his right went to the back of your neck. he pulled away, tangling his hand in your hair. “you want to thank me and say you’re sorry?” you nodded, catching your breath as your face flushed. “then spread your legs and stay quiet for me, yeah?” he smiled, helping you spread your legs and take your panties off. “so fucking beautiful,” he kissed down your stomach, your hands reaching to take his pants off. “i’m going to fuck you so good, baby.” he tossed his pants and the rest of the clothes to the side, rubbing his dick against your folds before pushing into your warmth, a lewd moan releasing from your lips. he groaned, bringing a hand to your jaw. “shh, doll. you gotta be quiet.”

you nodded your head, shutting your eyes as his hips picked up the pace, his dick stretching you out beautifully. he brought a hand to your mouth, his thrusts fast and sharp as he hit your g-spot. “r-right there..” you mumbled through his hand, soft and quiet groans leaving his lips. “yeah, you like being fucked like this? like a slut?” his degrading words only made you wetter, spreading your legs more as you whined in response. “such a dirty girl, all for me.” you clenched around his dick, feeling yourself reaching your high. the feeling of your walls tightening around his length sent him over, “gonna cum in your pretty pussy, doll. will you let me?” you nodded once more, cumming around his dick as you moaned into his hand. he followed shortly after, your walls milking him of his cum.

you both caught your breath, your eyes shutting as you took a deep breath. “y/n, i’m sorry for being an asshole. but i want you to know, since i laid my eyes on you, i’ve wanted to protect you. and no matter what happens, whether i die or survive, i will always.. always, love you.”

[sungkixx]

Nezushi Dance Scene Analysis

I was talking with a friend about how the way two people dance show a lot about the status of their relationship with each other. Then I decided to give my own thoughts about Nezushi’s Iconic Dance Scene and what was the dance scene trying to show.

This may be an obvious thing to some, but I wanted to express my thoughts anyway :)

In a scene before this, Nezumi passed out due to the Song of the Wind (Elyurias’s song) and later wakes up to Shion next to him. Shion then worries incessantly, checks him to see if there was anything wrong or if he was in any pain.

Nezumi sees his earnest worry about him and gets agitated and uncomfortable, since he’s not used to another person worrying about him. He gets especially narked when Shion tells him straight up that hes a human being and that he should look out for himself.

Having someone worry over you means more shackles on you, in order to put in the extra effort of being careful. Basically it means someone loves you.

To Nezumi, this was not necessary.

But even after his yell, Shion still continues to care. He then spontaneously decided to teach Shion how to dance.

To me, this dance was basically a show of their life together from the night that they met to now.

They start off with Nezumi asking if Shion has any experience in dancing, he says no.

Here I think it’s a reflection of his naivety of the world outside of No.6, with Nezumi saying he’ll teach him some basic steps, like he’ll give him the introduction of The West Block.

“Don’t look down.”

I highly imagine this being a direct reference to Nezumi saying, “Don’t look away, look at the world in-front of you.” We know he has said this to Shion many times.

Shion then says to cut it out, how it’s useless, and gives a few excuses on why they should stop dancing, like the times Shion would be on the verge of breaking down, saying how it’s useless, and was willing to give up. But a few words from Nezumi, became his guideline, and helped him overcome it. He stumbles and is slow to keep up, due to this being a whole new experience for him. It’s hard to take in.

As time goes on, Shion’s understanding of Nezumi and how he views the world becomes clearer and clearer. The more they dance, the more he understands. He is watching, seeing the world in Nezumi’s POV, he is empathising with him.

“Dance…dance, Shion.”

Nezumi encourages Shion to live in this new world.

After they finished dancing, Shion is out of breath, and laments how hard dancing actually is, saying he learned something new. Shion is huffing and puffing, while Nezumi is, assumedly, all right. This basically proves the point Nezumi wanted to make, to not worry for him, since he’s basically been doing this all his life.

He does not need the care and the love.

But even after all that, Shion still does anyway.

It’s a direct retelling of their story, and I had never noticed the underlying meaning behind the dance. I had first watched it in the anime and thought the scene was done so beautifully. I had recognised the purpose of them dancing through the West Block, like a show of their life spent with each other. Then I read the manga and novel, which I read through quickly without much thought since its a scene i’ve seen many times.

I played it off as a wonderful iconic scene in the novel, a show of love and intimacy. But what I didn’t know was how much it was a representation of the journey they had up to this point in time. Not only did it show their dynamic and connection, it was like watching them both reflect on the impacts they had on each other.

It was an amazingly written scene and I’m glad it is in the story.

｡.:*☆

If you have read this far THANK YOU SO MUCH GENUINELY um I really hope this was easy to read and understand, i still dont rlly know the mechanics around here, so if u had a hard time reading it, or some feedback, or maybe ur personal input on the dance scene, FEEL FREE TO LEAVE A COMMENT !! <3

i have a test tmr im supposed to be studying for and here i am talking abt nezushi sigh they have taken over my brain TvT

[distracted-milkshake]

Backseats - Tony Stark x reader

Warnings: sex sex sexxx but not smut, mentions of injuries, typical pregnancy talk

Words: 3.7k

Rating: M

Summary: Tony grapples with the fact that, after finally getting you pregnant, you’re a bit more pregnant than either of you expected.

or

In which almost every important thing since you met Tony seems to happen in the backseat of a car.

Had an exact idea for this, and it just came out for once, ending me with a sweet little one-shot I’m happy to say came out exactly how I wanted. Hope you enjoy!

Little unfun fact, I may have broken my foot halfway through finishing this. Won’t know till tomorrow, but I am quite pissed

Also want to note that I didn’t notice till I was about half done, but there’s not actual reference to Tony being Iron Man or having the arc reactor anywhere in this. I didn’t exactly do this on purpose but it felt worth pointing out

Ao3 link

“No. No, that’s entirely too many.” 

Tony was sat beside you at your ultrasound appointment, squinting to get a better look at the image being displayed. 

“Tony…” you started, though you weren’t sure how to continue. 

He pulled his hands out of his pockets, standing up. 

“Did I hit my head?” He tapped the monitor, and the doctor gave you a disapproving look you could do nothing but shake your head at, shrugging. 

“Are you seeing this?” He looked at you, head at a tilt. 

“Yes. I told you.” 

“You’re kidding me. Tell me you’re kidding me, this has got to be some sort of prank.” 

He tapped his foot in relative silence for a moment, chewing his lip. 

“We’ve got to downsize.” You gave him an unamused frown, to which he put his hands up defensively. 

“Only joking.” He said. 

“Don’t even.” You said. Any way you interpreted that wasn’t funny. 

“What’s the odds on that, by the way?” He inquired. 

“IVF brings a much higher chance of multiples, so not that unlikely, actually.” 

You’d only gone for artificial methods after banging for almost a year with no results. 

Despite supplements and tracking and Tony stepping it up, something just wasn’t working. 

You’d brought it up when he made it home late one night. 

“You look lively after fourteen hours.” You said from the couch as Tony walked in, dumping his briefcase by the stairs for later. 

“Private plane’ll do that. I’m not even tired, I think I’ve grown immune to jet lag.” 

“How’d it go?” 

“It was wild. They asked about you. I said you’d gotten into beekeeping.” 

“That’s what we’re saying now?” You teased. 

“Hey, whatever they’ll print.” 

“Appreciate it.” 

You could only manage flying once or twice a year, otherwise? You could handle not seeing Tony for a few days. In fact, more times than not you could use it. 

“Aside that, it has been a hell of a day. Meet you in bed?” 

“Sure thing.” 

With that and a kiss on the cheek, he went off to the bathroom. 

You headed to the bedroom, and a few minutes later Tony joined you, already stripped to his slacks. 

“God you look sexy when you do that.” He murmured, pulling off his socks and getting on the bed next to you. 

“I’m not doing anything,” 

“Exactly. You don’t need to.” 

He tugged off what little you were wearing, situating himself between your legs. 

“You gotta shave if I’m gonna do this.” He blew a tuft of hair off his forehead. 

“You offered.” 

“As if I’m going to pass it up, please. Waiter? There’s a hair in my meal.” He spat, picking at his tongue, making you giggle. 

He smiled. finished undressing and crawled up to kiss you, pulling you down by the waist off the headboard to on your back in the pillows. 

You stared ahead, brow drawn as he pulled your leg up over his shoulder. 

“Jesus that feels like coming home.” He huffed. 

“Tony?” 

“Yeah?”  

“Why haven’t I gotten pregnant yet?” He slowed, giving you a look. 

“Well I wouldn’t know. Hormones, cycles, the whole thing‘s finicky, never really made sense of it myself.” 

”Tony.” You voiced with a groan, scrunching your nose. 

“You want me to stop right now and answer?” 

“No, I just– I’m serious.” 

“So am I. I don’t know.” 

You sat up on your elbows, and Tony sighed, dropping your leg and sitting back. “Think maybe we should try something different?” You said. 

“Like what?” 

“You know.” 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Not to be possessive, or whatever it’s called now, but I really don’t like to share.” 

“Oh Jesus, Tony, no! I mean like artificial insemination, IVF, you know, that kind of thing.” 

“Thank god. Though I was afraid you meant that.” He sighed, resting on his haunches. “Frick.” 

“You don’t want to?” 

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” he scratched his chin. “Actually, yes it is. I don’t want to. Scoot.” 

You moved over so he could pull his legs out from under him and climb up next to you, pushing the covers out of the way, gesturing for you. 

You laid back into his arms.

“No, we’ll keep trying. It’ll sort itself out, I’m sure.” 

“Any particular reason?” 

“Do we have to get into it? I just don’t want to.” 

“All right then.” You leaned up and kissed him, pulling him against you. 

You liked Tony because you hadn’t known who he was when you met him. He was stranded from some failed scheduling, and in the backseat of a ride share he’d asked to borrow your phone like any other person would.  

“Really, just one call and I’ll give it right back.” 

You'd rolled your eyes, but handed it over. “You should put your seatbelt on.” You had said. 

“I’m like ten minutes from where I’m going, this guy doesn’t care.” 

And then when he gave it back to you, you had found his number in it. 

You’d called him the next day, of course, with full intent to tell him to buzz off, only to be stunned into intrigue. 

“Great. Now I have yours.” Had been all he said before hanging up. 

After that, you texted near daily. He wasn’t always the greatest at responding, so you preferred video calls. It was like that for months before you finally went out. You played hard to get, right up until he got you. 

You had told him it was on one condition, that he wouldn’t chew you up and spit you out like he did to supermodels and reporters, or say, his secretary. 

That if you were going to date him, and really date him, that he’d have to be all in, it was you or bust; you weren’t going to let him play you into something just for it to fall through. 

Not when you knew he was the only one for you. 

He’d only said one thing to that: “Done.” 

And two weeks later he proposed to you on live television. 

The media still didn’t believe, no matter how many times Tony said you were special, that you were going to last. 

Stuff spread fast as soon as you were seen in public together, journalists certain you were his latest in a long line of heartless flings. 

So you agreed to help him change that. 

“Go easy on her, yeah? She’s not used to television, but it's cool, because she agreed to be here with me, and honestly that’s enough work in a relationship on its own, I think she’s clear for the year.” Watching Tony beam on camera, every ounce of charm working, was worth it on its own. 

“Well we’ve got some great stuff planned for tonight, so don’t you worry.” 

You smiled, seated on that couch next to him in front of a whole studio audience and probably millions of viewers, because although you felt out of place, and a little in over your head, Tony kept his hand on yours damn near the entire time. 

Despite being asked a few questions, Tony answered most of them for you, dismissing any negative rhetoric coming your way, which you appreciated, because you could hardly believe the audacity of some of the things they were saying. 

You wouldn’t have agreed to do it if Tony hadn’t let you pick your own outfit, a loose, patterned jumpsuit, and made sure you didn’t have to wear any makeup that you didn’t usually. 

You got to show off when they asked about it, giving a spin Tony stayed holding your hand through, to lots of claps and applause, which would’ve been your highlight of the night if not for what came right after. 

“Well might I just say I think I speak for everyone when I say you look amazing tonight,” the interviewer complimented a little too gushingly, eyeing you. 

“Hey, easy. I am taken.” You spoke up, smiling thinly. 

“Fiery; I like it. Where’s he been keeping you!” 

“Wherever she pleases,” Tony said. “As it turns out, because I don’t keep her.”

“So, last question, have you thought about settling down?” The interviewer pivoted, letting you breathe easier, not wanting but more than willing to make a scene over anything more.

“Thought about? Oh yeah.” Tony said. “We’re pretty inseparable as it is. I don’t go a day without talking to her.” He glanced at you, brown eyes shining. “We’ve discussed it a little. Playfully, mostly. I don’t doubt why she doesn’t always take me seriously.” 

“Does marriage scare you?” The interviewer asked. 

“Terrifies, if I’m honest. But actually, it’s more the asking, you know, the hardest part is deciding when is a good time.” 

You straightened your back, alert as Tony leaned back to dig around in the pocket of his suit before standing, giving you a nod as you stared at him with wide eyes, getting down on one knee. 

You could feel how red your face must’ve been with all the cameras on you. 

“You’d make me the happiest man on Earth if you said yes.” 

The interview had been to announce you were together, among other things, after months of tabloids and speculation, to clear things up. Though the way Tony had phrased it beforehand made it all make a lot more sense. 

“I just wanna let the world know I’ve met someone really special, and I’ve changed. I want to show them.” He adjusted your mic backstages behind the tech’s back, placing his hands on your upper arms. 

“Because things are gonna change.” 

The interview blew up, and pictures of your red, tear stained, smiling face as Tony hugged you, engagement ring held up, displayed proudly on your hand, were in articles and magazines the world over. 

All the attention was a little overwhelming, but you were the most thrilled you had ever been in your life to be engaged to Tony Stark. 

He’d asked you after, on the way home, if it was too much, but you assured him it was perfect. 

“I thought about it immediately when I was asked to do the interview, and I knew if I didn’t do it then I was going to put it off. So I’m, how you say…”

“Sorry?”

“That.” You gave him an expectant eyebrow raise. 

“I’m… sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but you don’t deserve that, being strung out.” 

“It was very you. I still can’t believe I didn’t see it coming, I was so nervous.” 

“I saw that, I was afraid you’d faint.” 

“Oh lord, don’t even say that!” You laughed, giving him a shove. 

“It’s fine, I would’ve caught you.” He kissed your ear, giving it a tug with his teeth before you threw your arms over his shoulders and pushed him into a heated kiss. 

You first started trying for a baby four months after the wedding. 

“Hey, be here when we’re done, yeah? It’s gonna be a long night. You get in there, get yourself a drink, enjoy.” Tony dismissed the cab driver with a tip. 

“I cannot stand when they talk. Tell me again why we couldn’t get a limo?” You were fidgeting, not because of nerves, but excitement. 

“Whatcha smilin’ about? It’s just an action flick, probably not even good.” You would forever commend Tony on his ability to read a room, mood, or vibe without seeming to even look. Especially when it came to you. 

“I was going to tell you when we got home tonight.” 

“Tell me…?” He tilted his head at you, doing that thing with his lips that never failed to make your chest tight. “We’re not getting back till late, come on.” He urged. 

“You know we were talking last month, and I– I took it to heart.” 

“Oh?” 

You took a deep breath. “I stopped taking my birth control yesterday.” 

His eyes lit up. “You serious?” 

“I think I’m ready.” You nodded. 

He all but tackled you in the backseat of that cab, littering your jaw in kisses before moving down to your cleavage, making you yelp. 

“It’s not going to work yet!” You laughed. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try. Celebratory sex, you, me, now.” 

“Tony…! We’ve got a premiere!” 

He brought up his watch, squinting. 

“I’ve got ten minutes and a hard-on, seriously, they’re still playing ads, we won’t miss a thing. And ‘sides, I gotta practice dropping my pullout game.” 

“You are unbelievable.” 

“Won’t make a mess, swear it.” 

“God I love you.” You gripped his lapel, pulling him into a kiss. 

Having straightened out your two-piece and fixed Tony’s hair, grinning when he gave your ass a more than friendly pat, you started the couple blocks to the theater. 

“Right, let’s hurry.” You crossed the street, close by his side. 

“You really cut it close.” You shook your head at him, double checking your clothes. 

“Completely worth it. Do it again in a heartbeat.” 

You swore you always felt like a teenager with their first crush around him, the way he looked at you, always excited you were in the room. 

He took your hand, letting his fingers thread with yours. 

“hey so, I promise I’m gonna be a better dad than mine was. I know I’m not great, but… I promise I’m gonna be decent.” 

“You’re already half there.” You squeezed his hand, giving him a nudge. 

“You think so?” 

“I wouldn’t have married you otherwise.” 

He kissed the crown of your head, before lights and cameras surrounded you both on the carpet. 

But not everything had been roses. 

A few months after that, you’d both been in an accident. 

Tony had been driving, when a tire blew along a turn, sending the car over the side of the highway into the bushes. 

He'd gone through the windshield, hitting the hood and landing a few feet in front of the car in the dirt. 

You scrambled to unfasten your seatbelt, stumbling dazedly out the passenger door onto your hands, shaking it off and rushing to Tony.

“Oh my god, Tony!” Relief washed over you as he groaned when you turned him over. 

“Ow .” 

“Are you hurt?” 

“Jesus, duh.” He felt his face and chest, blinking through the bleary vision. 

“Just my head, I think, but holy shit.” 

You helped him up into the backseat, pulling out your phone and dialing 911. 

“I’m calling an ambulance.” 

You grabbed Tony’s handkerchief for the bleeding from his head, telling the operator where you were and what happened, as well as your husband��s condition. 

“Right, they’re on their way. Don’t lean back, sit up.” 

”We should try IVF.” 

“What?” 

“You mentioned it, and I know I said I was against it, but I think we need to look into it.” 

“Tony we were just in a car crash–”

“Yeah and I really put something into perspective for me. I really don’t want to die before we manage to conceive.” 

“That’s what you were thinking about?” You couldn’t help but laugh under your breath. 

“Deadass, sweetie. Imagine how ridiculous it would be if we ended up childless at like fifty because I was too worried about being seen as inadequate.” 

“You’re kidding me. That’s why you didn’t want to?” 

“Come on. It should be obvious. I spent years sleeping around, making my name synonymous with sex, and I can’t even get my wife pregnant? I would never live that down.” 

“Hey, it was not for lack of trying.” 

“Don’t I know it.” He huffed, wincing as you checked where you’d been staunching his head. 

“I want kids with you.” He said. “And I mean that.” 

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded. 

“Okay? Okay.”  

A half hour or so later the ambulance showed up, and you spent the rest of the evening getting Tony stitches. 

He’d been lucky a concussion and a couple fractured ribs was all he got off with, and he wouldn’t have even gotten that if he’d been wearing a seatbelt. 

“I guess there’s something to be said for getting it over with.” Back in the present, Tony was still talking himself into the news. 

“What do I know, maybe it’s incredibly efficient.” He sighed. “How many did you want again?” 

“Like, two?” You threw out. 

“Surprise, bonus for ya.” He gestured like he was pulling a slot machine. “You struck a three for one, cash-in is in eight months. Hope you know this is your early birthday gift. Christmas too.” 

“That’s a relief.” You shook your head, remembering the last time Tony tried to get you something, and just how much of a disaster it was. 

“Don’t make fun of me, I’m in a very vulnerable place right now.” He teased, but you could tell there was some seriousness behind it. 

“Three kids…” he exhaled a drawn out breath. 

“You’re gonna do great.” You said. 

“I am? I should be the one telling you. It is safe, correct?” He addressed the doctor. 

“We’ll have to see how the pregnancy develops, twins and triplets are almost always born premature, which adds risk to any delivery.” 

“And they are?” The doctor gave him a confused look. 

“Boys? Girls? Other? All of the above?” 

“It’s too early to tell.” 

“Of course. What was I thinking. Right, well, thanks for the news.” 

He was quiet as you wrapped up, getting cleaned up, and printed off your pictures—three little fuzzy black and white shapes. 

“You good?” You asked out in the hall, on your way to the rear exit, noticing how out of it Tony looked. 

“I’m gonna need to think about it. I’m kinda tingly in the fingers, my heart’s racing, I think I’m still in denial.” 

As you approached the glass door, Tony stopped you with an arm, biting his lip. 

“Shit.” 

You followed his gaze to the moderately sized crowd outside, feeling your heart sink. 

“Oh goddamnit.” 

“Don’t people have anything better to do with their lives?” Tony muttered. 

“How. We took surface roads and parked behind the hospital!” You groaned. 

“Where there's a me there’s a camera hoping to catch something. Car’s close, yeah?” He asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Right. Deep breath.” 

He tugged off his jacket, covering you as you made your way to the car, ducking you inside while camera flashes snapped from every direction. 

“Mister Stark! Mister Stark! Are you currently going through IVF treatment?” 

“Is your wife expecting?” 

“Sir, is it true you’re going to be a father soon?” 

“Fine, you might as well know now.” He caught your eye through the gap of the tinted car window, and you furrowed your brow. 

“My wife and I are expecting. We’re having triplets.” He said. 

“And that’s a you get.”  

You moved over as he opened the door and got in the seat beside you, quickly shutting it behind him. 

“I can’t believe you just did that.” 

“Yeah, believe it, before I change my mind.” 

“You can’t take it back now!” 

“Well yeah, but if I could, you would have to accept that I wouldn’t, unless I changed my mind, or you really wanted me to, in which case I’d figure it out.” 

“What?” 

“Nevermind.” He rolled up his window the rest of the way, drowning out the paparazzi still clamoring for his attention outside. 

“Hey,” you put your hand on his thigh. “Thank you, Tony.” 

“I’m not the one who’s going to have three human beings inside her, and not in a fun way. Jesus, you’re going to get huge.” He looked down at your stomach, then back up into your eyes. 

“You’re having triplets?” Happy exclaimed from the front seat. 

“Christ, Happy, you are not a part of this conversation.” Tony gave a dramatic slump against his headrest, throwing his hand up. “Is privacy dead!” 

“Yes, we’re having triplets.” You confirmed with a smile. 

Tony turned back to you. “But you are welcome. My sperm and all. Sorry I couldn’t get it the old fashioned way.” 

“I am not complaining.” 

Happy started the car. 

“Seatbelt,” you gave Tony's arm a tap with the back of your hand, and he quickly buckled himself in, kissing his fingers as you drove off. 

“What’s that for?” You asked. 

“I’m kissing my free time goodbye.” He exhaled heavily. 

“Half the house is going to be kids’ stuff, isn’t it?” 

“Half the house is going to be kids’ stuff.” You chuckled. 

“Not the basement.” 

“Basement can stay.” You assured him. 

“I’m gonna have to uninstall the fountain, aren’t I? It’s just not safe.” 

“I wasn’t gonna say it.” 

“Holy shit, what are we gonna name them!” He interjected,, his expression somewhere between panicked and elated. 

“‘Cause all I’ve only got Maria. That’s it. Does first to pop out get priority, or…?” He showed his teeth, gesturing. “There’s gotta be at least one girl out of three, right?” 

“Actually, I was thinking Virginia for a girl.” 

“That’s funny.“ He deadpanned. 

“She’s been a big help.” You shrugged. 

“You got me laughing.” He shook his head. 

“But seriously. I’m typically great at naming things, but, people who can get mad at me later– not to mention something I’m gonna have to call out across the house only about three million times, I’m not so sure if I want that to be my mom’s name.”

“We’ll figure it out.” You ran a hand through where his hair had shuck loose to hang in his eyes, kissing his cheek. 

It was wild to think less than a two years ago you’d met him for the very first time, and now you were closer to him than anyone, married and having kids. 

“Hey Happy, closest drive through with ice cream?” Tony leaned forward to ask. 

“You know this woman had ice cream every day while she was pregnant, and apparently, full fat ice cream has like fourteen grams of protein per cup? It’s nuts. More if you add nuts now I think about it. That’s not a bad idea. Butter pecan?” 

“Ice cream sounds great right now.” 

“I’m not suggesting you do that, but as far as becoming a picky eater goes… not the worst idea.” 

You pulled through a Dairy Queen, getting two butter pecan ice creams. 

Tony pulled out his phone and held up his spoon, clinking it with yours. 

“To becoming parents.” He toasted, kissing a bit of pecan off your upper lip, snapping a picture of you both as you laughed. 

[witchysniffles]

new year's eve

A/gathario ft. sick A/gatha being too stubborn for her own good. 8.7k words (💀) There WILL be a part 2 to this at some point, but given how long this took it might be a minute lol.

All of this was inspired by @flutterytickles's tags on this post about the idea of a professor AU and a New Year's Eve party, and when I say I took that and ran with it...😳

I am MORE than happy to yap about this AU forever, but really all you need to know for this is that everyone's teaching at a small, liberal arts college in Boston. A/gatha was hired as an English professor, but now mostly teaches American history through literature and print culture. R/io studied environmental science with a focus in botany and also poetry in school, and she took a pay cut specifically to teach at a school that would let her do both. Other than that, I feel like it's pretty self-explanatory. Enjoy!! <3

Please don't reblog to non-kink blogs! Minors DNI.

“So it’s not going to be a party,” Rio said. “At least not according to Lilia. But Alice and Jen will be there, and a few other faculty members and some of Lilia’s grad students, and Alice assured me there will be good food, lots of drinks, and probably karaoke if they can find a way to hook it up to Lilia’s TV. Sounds like it’ll be a good time.”

“Hmm,” Agatha hummed. Rio had her on speakerphone on her desk while she was tidying up her office, using the time that barely anyone was on campus to prep for the spring semester without anyone commenting on how many empty energy drink cans she was hauling out to the recycling bin.

“Well you know how I feel about karaoke,” Agatha said. Rio thought she heard the sound of her clearing her throat, but she chalked it up to static on the line. “But is Lilia actually inviting me or is this you asking me to come with you?”

“Both,” Rio said. “Lilia doesn’t have your number and she figured you wouldn’t be checking your work email over the holidays, so she asked me to ask you. And I would like it if you came with me.” Rio paused. “You know, if you want to.”

There was another little burst of noise on the line—this time it almost sounded like a sniffle—before Agatha spoke again.

“Well, I promised Nicky I’d take him to the parade and the fireworks at the Common tomorrow, but that’ll be over and done by eight.” Agatha paused and this time Rio was sure she heard a sniffle. “Let me talk to the kid next door, see if he can sit in after I put Nicky down and I’ll…”

Agatha trailed off, and Rio frowned.

“You’ll…?”

“Hh-hold on, I n-need—”

Rio could hear Agatha’s breath stutter, and then before she could even process what was happening, she heard what sounded like a poorly-stifled sneeze from a distance like Agatha was holding the phone away from her face.

“Bless you?” Rio still wasn’t a hundred percent sure she was hearing things right, but she still spoke loud enough for Agatha to hear and—she assumed—roll her eyes at. What she wasn’t expecting, though, was Agatha’s shaky voice when she brought the phone back.

“D-don’t,” she started. “I’m not…n-nah…not…hheh’EHTtschu!”

That was definitely, for sure a sneeze that time, and though Rio couldn’t see it, she could tell by the involuntary little groan that followed that Agatha wasn’t happy about it. Whether it was about sneezing in general or about Rio acknowledging it with another, more enthusiastic “Bless you!” was anyone’s guess.

“Ugh, sorry,” Agatha said after collecting herself again. “You were saying?”

“I think you were saying something about getting a babysitter? But, if you’re not feeling well we don’t have to—”

“I’m fine,” Agatha said firmly. “It’s just some gunk Nicky picked up somewhere. It’s probably just one of those twenty-four hour things, I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

Rio was pretty sure that wasn’t how colds worked, but Agatha’s tone told her the topic was not up for discussion, and Rio didn’t feel like pressing the issue would be helpful. This was Agatha, after all.

Last spring when they’d first gotten paired up to teach an interdisciplinary studies course on floral symbolism in classic American literature and poetry, Agatha had neglected to inform Rio that she was horribly allergic to about half the flowers they’d be talking about, so Rio hadn’t thought twice about showing up to the very first class with a fresh arrangement of native wildflowers to sit on the podium between them as they took turns going over the syllabus.

Agatha had done an admirable job downplaying her reaction for most of the hour-long class, only stifling the occasional sneeze into near-silence over her shoulder, but the second class was dismissed, she’d dissolved into the single most dramatic, drawn-out fit Rio had ever seen, blushing furiously the whole time and still insisting she was fine when she could gather enough breath to speak.

Rio had run up to her own office to grab her own bottle of Zyrtec, sure the whole time that this was going to get the whole class cancelled, and her partnership with Agatha would be over before it had even properly begun. With the meds in her system, though, Agatha had pulled herself together shockingly quickly to teach her afternoon class, and to Rio’s surprise, not only did their joint class proceed as planned (after a serious, Rio-initiated discussion of what parts of the syllabus Agatha was and wasn’t allergic to—which Agatha was also blushing furiously through—and an Agatha-initiated tacit threat to never speak of the incident again), but Agatha had been grateful enough for Rio’s help to offer to repay the favor by taking her out to dinner.

One thing led to another, and now, nearly a year later, they were dating, all because Agatha was enough of a stubborn bitch about her allergies to not keep antihistamines on her.

Rio had never actually seen Agatha sick before, but she assumed she probably wouldn’t handle that much better.

“Hh-ITSchu!”

Another sneeze from Agatha drew Rio from her thoughts.

“Ble—”

“Not yet, I…he’ETshiu! Ugh, fuck.”

“Salud,” Rio said.

“Shut up,” Agatha grumbled. “I’m fine. Just let me talk to the kid next door. I would never say this to his face, but he’s a total loser, there’s no way he’s got plans. I gotta check if Hanukkah changes anything, but I’ll text you when I know?”

“Sounds good. Love you, and get some rest!”

She could practically hear Agatha roll her eyes before she shot back a, “Love you too,” and ended the call.

Not half an hour later, Rio’s phone lit up with a text from Agatha.

Teen’s free to babysit. Pick me up at 9?

It’s a date, she replied.

~**~

Agatha was already waiting on the front steps when Rio’s overpriced Uber pulled up in front of the elegant Beacon Hill brownstone. Her hair was down, falling in loose waves over her shoulders, and she was wearing lipstick­, which wasn’t unheard of, but the deep raspberry red shade of it made something in Rio’s brain short out, and suddenly her only thought was about how badly she wanted to fuck it up at midnight.

As she drew closer, though, she realized that the lipstick was a distraction—and a damn good one at that—from the subtle little signs of illness on the rest of her face. Her makeup was impeccable, but up close, Rio could see the shadows of dark circles under her eyes, the barely-there pinkish tint at the tip of her nose, the subtle crease in her foundation that showed just how often she'd been—

Right on cue, Agatha scrunched up her nose with a small sniffle, and judging by the way her hands twitched at her sides, she was really fighting the urge not to rub it. Rio would never say it out loud, but she was pretty sure it was one of the cutest things she’d ever seen.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey, yourself,” Agatha said. Those raspberry lips twitched upwards, as Rio wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Her skin felt a little warm for someone outside in the middle of winter. Rio couldn’t be confident it was high enough to be a fever, but she filed the thought away for later.

“So…,” Rio started as she pulled out her phone to look up Lilia’s address. “How were the fireworks?”

Agatha sighed heavily. “We didn’t end up staying. Nicky didn’t sleep well last night, which meant I didn’t sleep well last night, and we only made it halfway through the parade before he decided he wanted to go home.” Agatha sniffled and scrunched up her nose again. “Poor kid was practically falling asleep on his dino nuggets. I put him to bed and hh’he was out like a li-ihh­-light.”

The slight hitch of her breath drew Rio’s gaze upwards, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Agatha scratching the bottom of her nose with her thumbnail.

“Oh poor thing,” Rio said, definitely not talking about Agatha; that would be ridiculous. “And how are you feeling? You sure you’re up for a wild party?”

Agatha rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I think I can hiih-handle whatever Lilia’s got planned.”

“You sure?” Rio lowered her phone and met Agatha’s eyes. “Because we can just stay in, especially if you didn’t get much sleep last night. I hear they’re letting Andy and Anderson drink on CNN again this year, and we could do those Lego flowers from Christmas and just take it easy.”

Yeah, Rio thought to herself; that was a safe angle to approach it from. Asking outright if she was under the weather was a surefire way to get her to dig her heels in deeper, and while Rio was pretty sure that was going to happen anyway, she wanted to make sure Agatha knew she had an out if she wanted it.

As Rio had predicted though, Agatha shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I’m fine. I already missed the baby fireworks, and I don’t even remember the last time I got to go out for New Year’s, so I’m not missing this.” She punctuated her statement by audibly clearing her throat, and she glared at Rio for noticing. “And I feel fine,” she snapped. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Ok,” Rio raised one hand in a mock surrender. “In that case, it looks like we have a choice between a pretty straightforward thirty minute walk, or we can take an Uber that’ll shave a whole five minutes off that time for…” she refreshed her app and her eyes widened in shock as she wordlessly showed Agatha the inflated price on the screen. “Suddenly I’m thinking it’s a great night for a walk. What about you?”

When she didn’t get an answer right away, Rio glanced up from her phone and took in the dazed look that had settled over Agatha’s features, the way those raspberry lips parted, one hand hovering in front of her mouth as her she scrunched up her nose once more in vain before—“hiET’SHhiew—‘ITSHhyu!” She aimed both sneezes into her elbow at the last second and then sniffled wetly as she rummaged around in her purse for…who the fuck still carried handkerchiefs in the twenty-first century?

“Bless you, bless you,” Rio said lightly, as Agatha blew her nose once, dabbing lightly at her nostrils to keep from completely destroying her foundation. Rio couldn’t help but notice that once she was done, she shoved the handkerchief in her pocket instead of putting it back in her purse.

 “Thanks,” Agatha muttered. “How long did you say the walk was?”

“Google says thirty minutes.”

Agatha gave a haughty sniff as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Closer to twenty if you walk like you live here,” she said. “I vote we do that.”

There was a part of Rio that thought about protesting further, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good, and besides that, Agatha was a grown woman who could listen to her own body. If she wanted to push herself for the sake of a stupid work party then who was Rio to stop her? And also, Rio selfishly really did want to mess up that lipstick against a backdrop of fireworks.

“Alright,” she sighed. “In that case, vamanos.”

With a swish of her long coat, Agatha set off down the block at such a pace that Rio had to jog to catch up.

~**~

Lilia lived on the top floor of a refurbished tenement building in the North End that was all decorative brick work and copper patina on the outside, with an interior that looked authentically pre-war. Which war exactly was anyone’s guess, but Rio was putting money on Civil.

The chilly night air had made both of their noses run, and they paused in front of the elevator to collect themselves. Rio pulled the sleeve of her sweater over her hand and swiped briefly at her nose. Agatha, on the other hand, took a bit longer to recover.

She’d been mostly alright on the walk over as far as Rio could tell—the fresh air really had seemed to be a good move—but now that they were back inside the dry heat of the building, it was clearly taking Agatha a second to gather herself. She had her handkerchief out and was running it on one finger under her eyes and around her nostrils, but her nose, it seemed had other ideas.

Her breath hitched once, twice, and she tipped her head back, her mouth just open enough that Rio could see she was pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth to try to hold it back. It wasn’t enough, though, and Agatha let out a particularly vocal gasp right before she pitched forward with an itchy-sounding “hiih’IIShu!”

“Bless you,” Rio said.

“Ugh, thanks,” Agatha grumbled. “Must be the temperature change. I’m fine.”

She at least had the decency to flush as Rio eyed her skeptically, but before Rio could say anything else, Agatha was slipping the handkerchief back in her pocket, sliding open the metal grille in front of the elevator, and waving Rio inside.

“Can you just promise me something?” Rio asked as the elevator groaned and shuddered its way upwards. Agatha didn’t say anything, but she side-eyed Rio curiously. Rio took a deep breath and flexed her fingers at her sides as she said, “Promise me if you reach a point where you want to leave tonight for any reason you’ll tell me?”

“I’m—”

“I know you’re fine,” Rio said. “And I’ll let you be the judge of your own body. I’m just telling you that if you want an out you’ve got one, no questions asked.”

Agatha considered her words for a moment. Her lips were pressed in a thin line as she ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek, and then she sighed.

“Alright,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Any time.”

The elevator jolted to a stop and they stepped out into a long hallway. There was music and laughter and a scent that Rio could only identify as ‘miscellaneous party food’ wafting from their left.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess that Lilia’s that way,” she said. She glanced over at Agatha who just tossed her hair over her shoulder, cleared her throat, and sniffed once more before nodding in the direction of the sound.

“Shall we?”

Rio hesitated for just a moment, captivated by the way Agatha’s mask slid so smoothly into place. She had hardly realized just how much she got to see when they were alone until suddenly she was faced with the Agatha that was ready to actually walk into the party.

The little signs were still there: the way that her foundation was starting to separate and smudge around the tip of her nose, the way her lips parted ever so slightly so that she could breathe without the air catching audibly on the building congestion in her sinuses.  It was an impressive performance. Frankly if Rio hadn’t seen evidence to the contrary, she might have even believed Agatha’s little act.

Of course, the fact that she had gotten to see that evidence to the contrary at all—even if Agatha was denying it the whole time—was also not lost on Rio. It made her stupid, lovesick heart flutter in her chest just realizing that Agatha trusted her that much. It was also mildly annoying knowing that it would be that much harder to tell if Agatha reached her limit tonight, but they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

She must have lingered a bit too long, though, because Agatha noticed she wasn’t following and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking pointedly at Rio’s hands.

Rio hadn’t even noticed that she was fluttering her fingers at her sides, but the sudden awareness made her stop and flex her hands.

“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

Rio reached the door at the end of the hall first and knocked right below the brass 4F affixed to it. When no one answered right away, Agatha tried the knob and found that it was already unlocked. She glanced at Rio with a shrug before pushing it all the way open and leading the way inside. 

Rio's first impression upon stepping into Lilia's space was that it perfectly answered the question, "What if an eccentric gender studies professor with a fortune-telling side hustle had lived in the same rent-controlled apartment since the 70s?" which wasn't a question Rio had been asking, but it was nice to have an answer nonetheless. The entry way led into a spacious living room filled with squashy, mismatched furniture. Decorative lamps on various surfaces gave the room a soft, warm glow, and there were tapestries and artwork covering nearly inch of exposed wall. It was inviting and a little overwhelming in the same way that Lilia herself could be and Rio found that she kind of liked it.

Her second impression was that she and Lilia definitely had different ideas of what "not a party" meant. There were far more people than she had expected here. She vaguely recognized some other faculty members and a few of Lilia’s grad students and TAs who hung out around her office a lot, but she was only halfway through her second year of teaching, so there were still more unfamiliar faces than familiar ones.

"Soo…," Agatha started, leaning close to Rio's ear as she slipped out of her coat, "Are we sure that Lilia understands what a party is?”

Rio bit back a laugh as the hostess in question rounded the corner. “Did I hear a knock? I thought I—oh, Rio, you came!”

Before Rio could react, Lilia swept forward and enveloped her in a brief, but warm hug that had Agatha pressing herself flat against the wall to stay out of the way.

“Oh, I’m so glad you were able to make it,” Lilia said. It wasn’t until she stepped back that she seemed to notice Agatha. Something flickered behind her eyes for a fraction of a second before her wide smile was back in place. “Agatha, it’s nice to finally see you outside of the office for a change. Did you two come together?”

“Sort of,” Agatha said at the same instant Rio said, “Kind of.”

Lilia raised an eyebrow, and Rio glanced over at Agatha who was starting to get a sort of dazed look in her eyes, so Rio quickly took over.

“We split an Uber,” she said. “Those holiday prices are crazy, but if the alternative is the green line on New Year’s…” she trailed off with a shrug and an eye roll, and that seemed to be good enough for Lilia. Or at least, if she had further suspicions, she was good enough not to voice them.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rio could see Agatha bring her hand in front of her mouth in a loose fist, her thumb resting along her jaw and her first finger pressed against the bottom of her nose. It wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary—one thing about Agatha, the woman was always touching her face—but Rio guessed from the way Agatha scrunched up her nose that it was a little more practical at the moment.

Rio was about to come up with some excuse to try to shoo Lilia away, when someone else called her name from elsewhere in the apartment. Lilia glanced in the direction of the voice and sighed.

“I suppose I should go see what all the fuss is about,” she said. "You two feel free to make yourselves at home. There's food in the dining room, drinks in the kitchen, and I think someone brought some..." she mimed smoking a joint as she trailed off, and Agatha snorted. "If you want to do that, though, just do me a favor and take it outside or on the fire escape. The scent lingers in here like nothing else.”

“Understood,” Rio said.

Lilia gave a satisfied nod before turning on her heel and disappearing back into the festivities.

Rio turned towards Agatha just in time to see her shove her face into her bunched up coat and muffle a forceful sneeze into it. She came up for air with a slightly dazed look on her face, her mouth still open in preparation, but after a long moment of anticipation, nothing else happened. Agatha exhaled with an angry huff and hung her coat up on an empty hanger.

Rio did the same after her, except she nearly dropped the hanger when Agatha suddenly swore behind her. Rio whirled around just in time to see Agatha crush her nose between her thumb and forefinger as she pitched forward with a pair of stifled sneezes that were nearly silent save for a soft, choked off little gasp.

 Rio almost felt a little guilty for it, but she couldn’t help noticing just how different these cold sneezes were from Agatha’s allergic fits. It was a strange thing to think about, but with her allergies, Agatha seemed to have some semblance of control, at least at the start. The tickle tended to be a slower, more torturous build that Agatha was shockingly good at hiding, and the sneezes themselves started off as soft, tickly little things that she was scary-good at keeping quiet. This cold, by contrast, seemed to keep her on her toes, sneaking up on her and then backing off just to come back with a vengeance, and Agatha was clearly already getting frustrated.

Agatha released her nose with a heavy sigh and a wet sniffle, and when she noticed Rio looking at her, she frowned.

“What?” she snapped.

“Nothing,” Rio said. “Bless you.”

That seemed to soften Agatha around the edges for a moment, and she muttered a quiet, “Thanks,” before she brushed past Rio into rest of the apartment. “Let’s find the kitchen,” she said. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”

Rio rolled her eyes, but followed along anyway. It was less than two and a half hours to New Year’s, but she had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

~**~

When Lilia had said there were drinks in the kitchen, Rio had expected champagne, some prosecco, maybe some kind of fancy Italian wines and some seltzers in the fridge for the grad students. What she hadn’t expected was a downright undergrad-rager amount of boxed wine and a rainbow of Jell-O shots, but now that she was looking at the spread, she realized that yeah, actually, this kind of tracked.

There was indeed an array of random seltzers and cheap beer in the fridge along with a couple of bottles of something bubbly with sticky notes on them warning that they were not to be touched until midnight. Rio grabbed a mango White Claw and turned around to see Agatha debating between the wine and the shots like it was a matter of life and death. After a moment, she reached a compromise with herself in the form of downing a purple Jell-O shot and then immediately grabbing a plastic cup to fill with room-temperature Franzia, because sure, why not?

“Hey, Rio, you made it!”

Rio spun around to see Alice approaching with a beer in hand and a bright smile on her face.

“Of course,” Rio said. “I wouldn’t miss it!” She took a sip of her seltzer and surveyed the room. “Although there are a lot more people than I expected when Lilia told me specifically that this wasn’t a party.”

“That’s Lilia for you,” Alice said. “Anything less than a full-on rager doesn’t count as a party to her. But for what it’s worth, it’ll probably start to clear out by 11:30ish. Most people just use this as a rest stop for a bit and then walk to the waterfront to catch the fireworks. But they’re missing out because that’s usually about when Lilia gets stoned enough to break out the oracle cards and that’s worth sticking around for.”

“Sounds like fun.” Rio hadn’t even heard Agatha come up behind her, but there she was eyeing Alice over the rim of her plastic cup of cheap wine. “When do we break out the Ouija board and start telling ghost stories?”

“Oh hey, Agatha,” Alice said. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she glanced from Rio to Agatha and back again like she was trying to connect some invisible dots. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, good to see you too,” Agatha said flatly. She took a long sip of her wine, and she held her cup in front of her face a second longer than strictly necessary to block her nose from view as it twitched just the slightest bit. A tense moment passed where Rio couldn’t tell if Agatha was actually going to sneeze or not, but she recovered quickly, lowering her cup and shouldering past Rio towards the dining room. “I’m gonna get some food.”

“Ok, bye, Agatha,” Alice said drily. She shot Rio a look. “I didn’t know you two…”

She trailed off, and the implied ellipsis hanging off Alice’s words felt like a set trap for Rio to walk into. She’d had the feeling that her officemates were starting to suspect something for a while—from the sounds of it there was even a betting pool now—but Rio wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing that easily.

It wasn’t so much that they were trying to keep it a secret—sneaking around like teenagers wasn’t really all it cracked up to be when they were both parties involved were closer to fifty than fifteen—but with a kid in the mix, and Rio being so new, and Agatha’s…well, being Agatha, they just…never really cared to make a grand announcement to their colleagues. At some point it would come out, that much they both knew, but for now it was still sort of thrilling to have such a secret that was theirs and theirs alone.

So it was with all of that in mind, that Rio managed to say, “Lilia’s the one who invited her.” She took a swig of her seltzer and wished she had grabbed something harder. “We just split an Uber here.”

“Ah, sure,” Alice said. “It’s just funny; Lilia’s been trying to get her to come to stuff for years now, but this is the first time she’s actually shown. I wonder what changed.”

“Yeah,” Rio mused as she watched Agatha disappear around a corner. “I wonder.”

“Ok, well…” Alice bounced on the balls of her feet and clapped her hands together as she took a slow step back. “I need to track down an HDMI cord to try to set up karaoke, but I’ll be around.”

“I’ll see you,” Rio said.

She gave Alice a half-hearted wave and then followed Agatha’s trail into the cramped dining room where she found Agatha trapped in conversation with a short woman with a neat blonde bob who Rio vaguely recognized from the…admissions office? Student life? Something like that.

Whatever they were talking about, Agatha hardly seemed to be in the mood for it, but the woman clearly wasn’t taking the hint. Agatha had her hand in front of her face again, the knuckle of her first finger moving slowly back and forth under her nose as she nodded absently, her attention clearly more on her nose than her conversation partner.

If Rio had felt a little guilty about watching before, she felt downright voyeuristic now. From the corner of the doorway, Rio had a perfect view of Agatha’s profile, and she watched with rapt attention as Agatha managed to wrestle the tickle back long enough to interject.

“That sounds great, Sharon, but you see, the problem is that I don’t want to, so…” she trailed off with a contemptuous, open-handed shrug, and the woman—Sharon, apparently—just laughed.

“Oh, I’ll get you one of these days!” She wagged a finger playfully in Agatha’s direction before glancing down at her empty cup. “I’m gonna get some more wine, but I’ll email you once we get back on campus!”

“I’ll delete it,” Agatha called after her in a mocking tone.

She waited until Sharon was safely out of the room before whirling around and coughing into her elbow. She recovered quickly enough, but kept her arm in front of her face for a moment too long. Rio could see her shoulders tense and then release as she smothered a trio of sneezes against her sleeve, each tripping over the next like they had taken umbrage at being held back for so long. “Hiih’TSHh!-h’TSHh-TCHhu!”

“Bless you,” Rio said.

Agatha startled at the sound of her voice and spun around to glare at her.

“I’m fine,” Agatha said through gritted teeth.

“I didn’t even ask.”

“Well you were thinking it and that’s bad enough,” Agatha snapped.

Her voice was starting to take on a more noticeably-congested edge, and Rio found herself wondering if she’d have to put her foot down at some point. Either Agatha was a better liar than Rio had thought if she had been feeling this bad this whole time, or she was going downhill faster than Rio had assumed she would, and frankly Rio wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Is this where the…oh. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Rio and Agatha both spun around to find Jennifer Kale smirking at them from the doorway like she very much hoped she was, in fact, interrupting something.

“You wish,” Agatha growled. “What do you want, Jen?”

“Maybe to socialize?” Jen said slowly like she was trying to explain the concept to a child. “At a social event? Although I can’t imagine you have much experience with those.”

“Can it, Kale,” Agatha snapped. She took a long sip of her wine and shouldered past Jen on her way back into the kitchen. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Nice to see you too, Agatha!” Jen called after her. She turned back to Rio and rolled her eyes. “You really can’t take her anywhere, can you?”

The question felt equal parts loaded and rhetorical, and given Jen’s…history with Agatha, Rio figured her safest option was to plead the fifth. She ignored Jen’s pointed smirk and took another long drink of her seltzer.

“Well, forget her,” Jen said. “I was actually hoping to run into you here. I heard back from my mother about those old Home Garden magazines we were talking about? She found some of my grandmother’s old issues, and she said she’ll send them out to me next week. I can bring them into the office when they get here if you want to go through them.”

“Oh, sweet!”  Rio had been working for most of the fall on a proposal for a class on Victory Gardens and the development of urban home gardening, and some of the earliest primary sources had proven to be a bit of a bitch to track down. “Yeah, I’ll be in and out of the office the next few weeks before the semester starts, but I’d love to get my hands on anything you’ve got.”

“Cool,” Jen said. “I’ll keep you posted.” She gave Rio a soft smile and looked like she was about to say something else, but Rio took the pause as an excuse to slip away.

“I’m gonna go mingle a bit more. You know, network or whatever, but I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” Jen said. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

Rio grabbed a star-shaped sugar cookie off a platter at the end of the dining table and popped it into her mouth as she slipped out into the living room before Jen could say anything else.

Agatha was across the room, in another tense conversation with a woman Rio definitely recognized from the library, but she couldn’t quite place the name. Dottie? Sarah, maybe? Either way, Agatha saw Rio looking and shot her a sharp glare. Rio took the hint and headed over to where Alice was fussing with Lilia’s ancient CRT TV.

It turned out it didn’t even have an HDMI port, which meant the karaoke idea was getting nixed, but after a little bit of snooping in the cabinet underneath, Rio found a dusty plug-and-play joystick with a collection of old arcade games that was still in working order, and it only took a few rounds of Frogger before a full-on tournament broke out.

Rio lost sight of Agatha as a small crowd started to gather around the TV, but despite that, if she was being honest, she was kind of actually starting to have a good time. As the clock ticked ever closer to midnight, the crowd did in fact start to thin out, and those who were left were mostly reaching a pleasant state of being under their influence of choice. Conversation and laughter flowed easily, and Rio found herself suitably distracted from worrying about Agatha.

That was, at least, until she caught sight of Agatha slipping away from the rest of the party, making a beeline for the bathroom down the hall with her hand against her face.

That got Rio distracted enough that she ran Ms. Pacman straight into a pixelated ghost to a collective groan from her audience, but Rio found herself not really caring. She passed the joystick off to Alice who was going for the high score on Galaga, and picked her way out of the crowd.

“You good?” Jen asked.

“Yeah,” Rio said. “I’m just gonna grab another drink.”

She headed into the kitchen and grabbed another seltzer—a wild berry Truly this time—and made a pit stop in the dining room to grab a couple of those sugar cookies in a napkin before following Agatha’s path down the hall towards the bathroom. She was barely halfway to the door when she heard the unmistakable sounds of Agatha…well, struggling.

“Hih-TSSHhiu! Heihh-hhETshiw!” Rio heard what she assumed was a hand slamming down hard on the edge of the sink, followed by harsh fit of coughing that only seemed to feed back into the cycle as Agatha paused just long to inhale sharply before—“HHET’Sshiu! Motherfucker!”

“Agatha?” Rio knocked lightly on the door with her knuckle. “It’s just me. You ok?”

“F-fuck off,” Agatha growled. Her voice was really starting to go now—it sounded low and scratchy, cracking between syllables—and though she made a point of turning on the water in the sink, Rio could still hear her sniffling miserably.

“Agatha, come on, don’t do this to yourself.”

She got no response to that, presumably because Agatha knew that her voice wasn’t helping her case at this point. Rio checked the time on her phone; it was after eleven now. If she’d known a few hours ago that this was where they were going to end up, she’d have put her foot down at the start. She should have pushed harder when Agatha was still malleable. Now it felt like she was talking to a brick wall. Or a closed wooden door, she supposed.

Just as she was about to get up to go back to the party, she heard Agatha clear her throat.

“If I’b bothering you so mbuch you can just fucki’g leave,” she snapped.

“Agatha, that’s not…” Rio trailed off as Agatha’s words actually hit her.

Oh.

So that’s what this was all about.

“Listen,” Rio said. “I’m not leaving you. Not because of the party and definitely not because you’re sick. You’re kind of fucking stuck with me whether you like it or not, and I’ll give you space, but I’m not leaving you. Take as much time as you need. I’m heading back out to the living room, but I’ll be here for you whenever you’re ready.”

The water stopped running and Rio could hear Agatha sniffle again. She didn’t say anything, but then again, she didn’t really have to. It was enough just for Rio to know she was actually listening. As she started to turn away, she suddenly remembered the cookies in her hand.

“Oh, and I brought you a little something to eat. They’re right out here if you want them.”

There was a narrow little table with a collection of candles and crystals next to the bathroom door, and Rio set the napkin-wrapped cookies on edge before she headed back down the hallway. When she reached the end, she heard the bathroom door open and shut, and when she turned around, the cookies were gone.

~**~

By 11:30, the party was smaller, but rowdier than ever. Lilia, who had been out on the fire escape more than once, was giggling her way through a tarot reading for Jen over the arm of the other couch. There was music blasting from someone’s phone, and a cheer went up as Alice finally broke her high score. Everyone that was left was talking or laughing, and it was easy enough for Rio to slip back into the fray and plop herself on an overstuffed couch cushion without so much as a glance her way.

The minutes seemed to drag by impossibly slow. 11:45 turned to :50, turned to :55, and Rio was starting to think she might have to press her luck and check on Agatha again when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and speak of the devil, there she was. Her hair obscured most of her face so Rio couldn’t get a great look at her, but she tapped Rio’s shoulder and nodded towards the fire escape, and that was all Rio needed to scramble to her feet and follow her.

There was no one out there at this time of night; everyone left was inside, watching reluctantlyas Alice unplugged the game and tuned the TV in to the Times Square ball drop. Agatha slipped out the open window onto the metal platform, and before Rio could even process what they were doing, Agatha grabbed the railing of the narrow stairs leading up towards the roof and started to climb.

“Ok, not that I’m not glad you’re out here again, but what are the fuck are you doing?” Rio asked, trying not to notice just how high above the city streets they were.

Agatha paused and looked back at her. “I wa’t to watch the fireworks.”

She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like it had been her plan this whole time, and though Rio hated the thought of setting foot on those narrow, creaking stairs, she had to admit that, yeah, she very much did want to watch the fireworks too.

She followed Agatha, and they both scrambled over the lip at the top. After the hazy warmth of Lilia’s apartment, the chill breeze was a welcome change, and Rio had to admit, the view was nice from up here. Rio checked the time on her phone. Two minutes to midnight, and she swore could feel it in the air.

“You don’t have to kiss mbe or adythi’g,” Agatha said. “I just thought this mbight be dice.”

Ninety seconds to midnight.

“Would you stop me if I did?” Rio asked.

Agatha scoffed. “You’d really risk catchi’g this?”

“What can I say?” Rio shrugged. “I’m feeling lucky this year.”

“But I’b gross.”

Rio pressed her cold hand against Agatha’s fever-warm cheek—oh yeah, she was definitely going downhill—and guided her gaze up so she could take her first good look at Agatha’s face in the moonlight.

Agatha’s bright blue eyes were watering so badly it looked like she was crying, and though her mascara had held up valiantly for the last few hours, it was starting to smudge in earnest now. The makeup around her nose was a patchy mess, clinging to the dry, reddened skin where it hadn’t been rubbed off entirely. Her lipstick had honestly held up surprisingly well, although the edges were starting to get fuzzy. All of that coupled with her irritated frown as she sniffled and wrinkled her nose again made her look so pathetically adorable that Rio could almost melt.

“See that’s the funny thing,” Rio said. “You’re saying gross, but all I’m seeing is the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Agatha blushed furiously, but she let Rio pull her closer.

Ten seconds to midnight.

The air was humming with electric energy. Rio was sure there was nowhere else on earth she’d rather be.

Five!

They could hear the countdown from all directions.

Four!

Agatha swore as her nose twitched and she aimed a loud “Hh-ITShoo!” into her shoulder.

Three!

Agatha sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Two!

“Last cha’dce to back out.”

One!

Rio smirked. “Not on your life.”

Happy New Year!

All at once, the city erupted around them, but Rio hardly paid it any mind as her lips met Agatha’s, waiting and eager, and for a moment, they were the only two people in the world. Rio could taste the artificial vanilla of Agatha’s lipstick, could feel Agatha’s poor, abused nose against her cheek as she tangled her fingers in Agatha’s hair and savored absolutely everything about the moment.

Agatha was the first to turn away, gasping for breath that couldn’t break through the wall of congestion in her nose, but she didn’t pull away from Rio’s arms.

They stayed like that for a long moment, foreheads pressed together as the fireworks over the water lit up the night sky around them.

“Rio?” Agatha finally croaked.

“Yeah, love?”

 “I dod’t feel very well,” Agatha said. She let her shoulders drop and rested her head on Rio’s shoulder so that her next words came out even softer. “I thigk I’b ready to leave ndow.”

“Oh, you are, huh?”

Agatha nodded weakly against Rio’s neck. Rio bit back a chuckle and carded her fingers through Agatha’s hair, which just made Agatha press closer. She was for sure running a fever now, but Rio didn’t think she needed to say that part out loud.

The fireworks were starting to die down now. The city that slept by 10pm was already quieting again, and a cool breeze blew across the rooftop, making them both shiver. That was enough to finally spur Rio into action. Despite Agatha’s low whine of protest, Rio took a step back, and reached into Agatha’s pocket to find her crumpled handkerchief. She offered it to Agatha who rolled her rheumy eyes, but accepted it gratefully and set about wiping away the tear tracks and the smudged eye makeup. There wasn’t much she could do for her foundation at this point, but after a moment she managed to pull herself back to some semblance of her usual self.

“Ready?”

“H-hold on.” Agatha held up one finger as she inhaled a shaky breath. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parted, and she stayed like that for a long moment, before—

Fuck, I lost it.” Agatha scrubbed at her nose with the crumpled handkerchief in frustration before flipping her hair over her shoulder and following Rio to the edge of the roof to step gingerly back onto the fire escape.

The party was well and truly winding down now, but those that were left seemed occupied with champagne and company, so no one seemed to notice when Rio and Agatha slipped back inside. For a second, Rio almost thought they could make a clean break for it. They’d grab their coats and slip outside, and Rio would text Lilia a brief goodbye once they were in the Uber back to Agatha’s place.

That kind of luck didn’t seem to be on their side, though, because Lilia caught them as they passed the kitchen doorway.

“Oh, Rio, are you leaving?”

Rio stopped dead in her tracks like she’d been caught sneaking in after curfew. She could feel Agatha stiffen and clear her throat next to her.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Rio said with a nervous glance at Agatha. “It’s getting late and—”

“I have to let the babysitter go,” Agatha chimed in. “Rio offered to split a car.”

Her voice was fading in earnest now, but Rio noticed how carefully she was choosing her words so at least she didn’t sound too congested on top of it. Her explanation seemed to be enough for Lilia, who smiled at them both.

“Well, get home safe,” she said. “Happy New Year! And Agatha, I hope you feel better soon!”

Agatha’s jaw dropped and she looked like she was contemplating homicide or suicide or both, but Rio just gave her a shove in the direction of the door and gave Lilia a soft “Happy New Year,” and a shy wave in return.

She grabbed both of their coats out of the closet with one hand while she pulled up Uber on her phone with the other. No way they were doing that walk again tonight.

“Ok, driver’ll be here in three minutes,” Rio said.

When Agatha didn’t respond right away, Rio looked up to see her frozen in pre-sneeze torture, her lips parted, eyelashes fluttering, brows knitting together as she took a breath in, and then—

“Oh fuck mbe!” Agatha scowled and pinched the bridge of her nose hard.

“Oh, pobrecita,” Rio breathed. “Let’s get you home.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything, the lost sneeze snuck back up on her with a vengeance just as Jen and Alice passed by on their way to the kitchen.

“HHT’SCHiu!”

“Bless you, Agatha!”

“Fuck off, Jen!” Agatha called back.

With that, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, held her flaming cheeks high, and stalked out of Lilia’s apartment, leaving Rio to call out a soft, “Happy New Year, guys!” before jogging to catch up.

~**~

The ride back to Agatha’s place was short and quiet, and even though she hadn’t strictly been invited, Rio followed Agatha inside where Agatha paid the babysitter, kicked off her shoes, and tossed her coat in the vague direction of the coatrack before throwing herself down onto the couch in the parlor.

Rio had been in Agatha’s house more than a few times, but this—Agatha being this miserable in her own home—was new enough territory that she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. She shed her own coat and shoes, and picked up Agatha’s so at least they wouldn’t be a tripping hazard later, and returned to stand behind the couch.

Agatha had one hand dangling towards the floor and the other over her eyes like if she blocked her vision, she could pretend the night had gone differently.

“So,” Rio started carefully. “What are you thinking? Do you want me to stay?”

Agatha moved the hand over her face and looked up at Rio with red, watery, exhausted eyes.

“I cad take care of byself,” she said.

“I know you can. That’s not what I’m asking.” Rio leaned over the back of the couch and reached one hand down to brush a lock of hair out of Agatha’s face, curling it gently around her finger. “Do you want me to stay?”

“You’ll get sick,” Agatha whined.

“Again, not what I’m asking. And for what it’s worth, you did have your tongue in my mouth less than an hour ago, so I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed.”

Agatha started to laugh, but it quickly turned into a cough that only seemed to irritate her nose as she quickly brought her hands up to cover an itchy sneeze. “hH-IItschu!”

“Salud, baby.”

“Thagks,” Agatha grumbled. She sniffled wetly and wiped her nose roughly on her sleeve. “Ugh, feel gross! I hate bei’g sick.”

Rio bit back a laugh. “I don’t think most people really enjoy it.” She had moved from playing with Agatha’s hair to scratching lightly at her scalp. Agatha’s eyes fell closed and she moaned into Rio’s touch.

“Let me ask a different way,” Rio said. “Do you want me to leave?”

Agatha’s eyes opened again, and when she looked up at Rio with her flushed cheeks and her sniffly nose, Rio felt like she could melt into a puddle on the spot. The flush in Agatha’s cheeks deepened as she slowly shook her head no.

“Ok,” Rio said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Shut up,” Agatha muttered without any bite.

“Ignoring that because you’re sick,” Rio said.  “Now what do you say we get you somewhere more comfortable than the couch so you can get some actual rest, hm?”

It took a few more minutes of gentle prodding from Rio to get Agatha to her feet and up the stairs, but once she was moving, she seemed to be able to handle herself. She poked her head into Nicky’s room before heading to her own room to change while Rio busied herself digging around in the bathroom medicine cabinet.

All Agatha seemed to have was a bottle of Advil, a box of Zyrtec, and a mostly-empty bottle of grape-flavored children’s cold medicine that was missing the measuring cup. Rio vowed to make a supply run in the morning, but for now, the Advil was probably better than nothing. She filled a glass with water from the sink, and then grabbed the allergy meds for good measure and headed for Agatha’s bedroom.

Agatha had already changed into an oversized t-shirt with an ambiguous number three on it, and a pair of worn flannel shorts that were practically indecent. She’d pulled her hair into a loose bun, and she was just finishing wiping off the last of her makeup with a wipe that she tossed carelessly in the direction of the trash can. It missed by a long shot, but Rio thought it was cute that she’d tried.

“Here,” Rio said, holding out the water and two ibuprofen tablets. “You didn’t have much, but this should help keep your fever down.” Agatha took the meds and washed them down without protest, and Rio offered her the box of allergy meds. “I don’t know if these’ll do much, but they might at least take the edge off until I can run out to the store tomorrow.”

Agatha’s cheeks flushed a deeper pink. “About that…”

“What are you…?” Rio trailed off as she pulled the blister pack out of the box and found it completely empty. “Why was this still in the cabinet if you knew it was empty?”

“To remind myself to buy more,” Agatha said like it was completely obvious and not actually one of the most ridiculous things Rio had ever heard.

“Ok, scratch that then.” Rio tossed the empty package into the trash can. “Do you want anything else?”

Agatha shook her head as she set her water on the nightstand.

“Just hurry up and c’mere,” she said, making grabby hands in Rio’s general direction. It was quite possibly the cutest thing Rio had ever seen, and she wiggled out of her nice jeans and into a spare set of pajamas as fast as she could so she could crawl under the covers with Agatha, who immediately attached herself to Rio’s side.

“I’b sorry I was a bitch earlier,” Agatha mumbled.

Rio chuckled as she leaned her cheek against the top of Agatha’s head. “Lucky for you, I kind of like it when you’re a bitch, because I know you don’t mean it.” Agatha grumbled something unintelligible against her neck, but Rio continued, “And because the sooner you get being a bitch out of your system, the sooner we get to do this.”

“Love you,” Agatha mumbled sleepily.

“Y yo a ti, mi amor,” Rio said. She reached back to turn off the lamp on the bedside table and then pressed her lips against Agatha’s warm forehead as she settled back down.

Agatha was already out, her breathing coming in congested little snores that made Rio’s lips twitch into a smile as she felt her own eyes growing heavy. Her last conscious thought before she slipped into sleep herself was that there was nowhere else on earth she’d rather be starting the new year.

[biotic-raptorian-angel]

Letter- Pharmercy

Angela found the letter by accident.

She hadn't meant to invade Fareeha’s privacy. It had been a quiet afternoon—Fareeha was out on a mission, and Angela had taken it upon herself to tidy up their shared quarters. Fareeha was never particularly messy, but there were always little signs of her presence: her flight jacket draped over a chair, her boots neatly lined by the door, training gloves worn from use tucked beside the nightstand.

Angela had only been moving some books when the letter slipped free from where it had been wedged between the pages of a tactical manual. The envelope was slightly worn, the edges creased as though it had been held and put away too many times.

The name on the front made Angela’s breath catch.

Ana Amari.

Angela hesitated, her fingers trembling slightly. Ana—Fareeha’s mother, the legendary sniper, the woman Fareeha had spent a lifetime chasing, only to have her disappear into the shadows of history.

Fareeha had never spoken much about Ana. She mentioned her in passing, usually with a clipped tone or a strained expression. The weight of her absence had always been evident in the way Fareeha carried herself—like a woman shaped by both admiration and abandonment.

Angela knew she shouldn’t open it. But something about the way the paper was slightly crumpled, the ink smudged in places, made her realize that this letter was not just words—it was wounds.

With a deep breath, Angela unfolded the paper.

Umi,

I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Maybe I think it’ll make me feel better. Maybe I think if I put these words on paper, they won’t feel like they’re rotting inside me anymore.

I’ve spent my whole life trying to be you. Trying to be strong. Trying to be someone you would have been proud of. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop asking myself—was I ever enough? Was I ever the daughter you wanted?

You left. You chose to leave. And I—

Angela’s throat tightened as she read the next part, the words pressed into the page with such force that they had nearly torn through.

I hated you for it.

I still hate you for it sometimes. But then I remember that I love you more than I could ever hate you, and that’s worse. Because if you were a coward, if you abandoned me because you didn’t care, then I could walk away from this without feeling like my chest is caving in. But I know you loved me. I know you thought you were doing the right thing.

And that makes it so much worse.

Do you know how many times I looked for you? How many times I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d find you watching over me from the shadows? I thought if I became good enough, strong enough, you’d come back. That I’d prove I was worth staying for.

But you never did.

Angela inhaled sharply, a sting of tears forming in her eyes as she continued.

I don’t know what I want. I don’t know if I want to find you and scream at you, or just collapse at your feet like a child and beg you to tell me why.

But you’re gone. And I don’t even get the chance.

So I keep going. I keep fighting. Because it’s all I know how to do. And I tell myself that it doesn’t matter anymore.

But some nights, when it’s quiet, when no one is watching—

I still wish you were here.

Fareeha’s name was signed at the bottom, the ink darker than the rest, as though she had hesitated before writing it.

Angela’s fingers trembled as she folded the letter back up, carefully tucking it into the envelope.

She pressed it against her chest, closing her eyes.

No wonder Fareeha never spoke about it. No wonder she was so careful, so composed, so unwilling to let anyone see the fractures beneath the surface.

Angela would never tell her she found it.

But she would love her harder.

A-Z Prompts

I've decided to try and keep up with daily writing by doing 1 prompt a day for each ship via the A-Z prompts I came up with below. If you like it or have suggestions for other prompts, please let me know!

Adoration

Bravery

Chivalry

Devotion

Ethereal

Friendship

Glamour

Healthy

Idol

Jukebox

Kingdom

Letter

Moss

Nude

Observation

Paint

Quiet

Rejection

Sea

Turntable

Unanimous

Vermin

Wings

Xenomorphic

Yitten

Zephyr

[wildsaltair]

currently so obsessed with Russell Crowe’s ability to emote so subtly yet powerfully. I just marvel at how naturally good he is at it

[langfield]

do you think vinh was actually in love with safi? i know he starts doubting that he ever was in chapter 5, but if he wasn’t actually in love what do you think his true feelings for her were? emotional attachment maybe? on safi’s side, i think it’s interesting how even after knowing about vinh’s statement about maya she still decides to hook up with him for a time (only to eventually stop sometime prior to the game?? maybe they had another falling out idk). their relationship in general is just very fascinating to me lmao.

god, the safi-vinh dynamic is certainly one filled with intrigue because of all the intense emotions attached to the people within it ; aimed at each other and also at the bystanders whom haunted around their not so defined relationship. there’s just so much baggage attached to them, you know? mostly painful things and a general sense of betrayal or regret, creating a potion of this general wishy washy bullshit that’s hard to parse through … more so in safi’s case than vinh’s, but i’ll touch upon that later! as for your question about vinh and his true feelings, well.

maybe he was in love with safi once upon a time. maybe the fact he believed that he was in love with her is really all that matters. i suppose it depends on what your definition of romantic love and utter devotion is. it’s undeniable he cared fiercely for safi, enough so to become jealous of max ( safi’s object of obsession ), swear off serious relationships in hope she’d want him back, and to engage in a general meddling within her life to make sure she comes out of situations as unscathed as possible. i mean, he schemes to steal a cow skull and then proceeds to throw it through her windshield in an attempt to save yasmin’s and safi’s relationship … it is very extra of him to do, in fact it’s a literal crime, and the game has both max and safi acknowledge the intensity of said action in episode four. we see the memory of the hedgehog he proudly displays on his desk, the carelessness in which safi treats it, her ‘i’ll buy you another one if it breaks’, and how vinh simpers beneath that offer because he doen’t want a new one, he wants this one, the one safi gave him : a gift that was likely unprompted, some sort of surprise maybe, given to him on a whim and cherished better than any other possession he owns. we also see how he breaks it when she dies. then there’s photos upon photos of safi on his phone and it’s implied he takes pictures after they sleep together and -- that isn’t even touching upon how he practically gives up on himself after her death. the mask drops, he starts trying to branch out and find acting gigs elsewhere, wanting to leave caledon forever, and there’s a sense of raw anger and loneliness he feels when she’s gone. he stops hooking up and pushes everyone away besides max, whom he clings to, and it’s a lot, right? there’s love there. obsession, probably. in many ways he’s still the ‘puppy’ following safi around like gwen said, only without maya this time. he waits and stews and he wants, certainly, for her to love him … but was it purely romantic love? who’s to say!

i think vinh wanted safi as his girlfriend before, maybe when things weren’t so tense, and he still believed that fiercely even when he stopped wanting it. i don’t think he knew where his feelings started to dwindle into something less excited and more resigned, or when he started looking for someone else. his priority remained with safi and with yasmin and thus there wasn’t a lot of time to dissect his heart, a rather vulnerable act he already struggles with anyway. he’s a repressive sort of man. he doesn’t do a lot of introspection because he has an act to maintain, a reputation to follow. but i do believe that by the time double exposure takes place, vinh’s love for safi has indeed shifted because his attraction to max veers on something that isn’t purely sexual. there is an undeniable interest, both in dead and living world, that he’s either embracing or squirming away from … i do not think vinh had many crushes at all when he was in love with safi. i don’t think he allowed himself that luxury, because he didn’t want to move on from her, or put himself off the market in case she wanted him again, in bed or in some profound, loving sense. lots of waiting. lots of surrendering, ‘she’ll come around, we’ll make up’, and hoping despite himself. so his romance with max proves to me that vinh is somewhat right in saying ‘or i thought i was’ when talking about safi and being in love with her, because he was before, but he isn’t exactly in love with her now, if that makes sense? i’d say an emotional attachment is a good title for what they have by the time of the games events.

( i do not wish to diminish vinh’s feelings, but i also think there’s a case to be made that he was rather desperate when he thought himself in love with safi ; there was a lot of insecurity within him back when he was a student, weighed down by the fact he was poor and not your standard run-of-the-mill white man … as an adult he scoffs at his acting abilities and wields his power as head of abraxas with a rather tight fist, as though it’s the only control he’s ever had before. it’s rather clear his only two friends were safi and maya and that vinh hasn’t had any since them -- was desperate to stay on their heels despite the fact he was never really apart of whatever they had. it’s not a stretch to speculate that vinh was, perhaps, a cocktail mix of loneliness and desperation rather than strictly in love with safi. maybe confused his all-consuming need to be around her as desire, or maybe just enjoyed feeling wanted by safi enough to mix his wires. after all, why was it safi he was in love with and not maya? vinh also uses sex as a means of coping, as seen by his rather active sex life in game via hookup apps and reggie, so maybe his sex with safi was just that. coping. in it’s own way. regardless, he did love her, or so he thinks so, and to me i think that’s enough, speculation aside )

safiya’s side of things is much more difficult than vinh’s, who is more obvious about his feelings towards her than he thinks he is. there are some brief contradictions, like how it’s stated that safi doesn’t care for vinh ( which is true ) and yet she also acknowledges that when she split apart and lost herself, all that was left of her was moses, lucas, gwen, and vinh. we know that moses and gwen matter to safi, or mattered, and that at one point safi might’ve admired lucas … so where does that leave vinh? if she doesn’t hate him like gwen or lucas now, and if she doesn’t cherish him like moses or max, why is he still apart of her? what does that mean? is it just a metaphor for their times with maya, and how safi will always be connected to that past with vinh because of her love for the caledon’s personal dead girl? was her sleeping with vinh about maya too? or did she actually care for vinh once, albeit weakly and casually, and did that fleeting moment of affection count when she vanished into everyone who’s ever thoroughly affected her life? and, as you said, it’s so fascinating that she hooks up with vinh at all post maya death … it feels strange and odd and unlike her. even in their intimate picture together after fooling around she is nothing but angry, disinterested, her underwear and bra are already back on ( if they were ever off at all? ) and while that’s on account of safi just hating photos, i also think it’s a testament to how irritable she finds vinh’s presence when stuck in it. it’s not a happy photo really, even vinh’s expression is a little red-eyed, forced, like he was likely wasted the night prior. i wouldn’t be surprised if safi was only able to be with vinh if she was … you know … literally out of her mind drunk or high or what have you.

though, that’s just speculation of course. my vague take on things is that safi went to vinh whenever she was partied out or if she was feeling particularly destructive that day ; choked with self loathing over her mom or maya and so sex with vinh was a means for her to feel even worse. some sort of self harm, some sort of outlet where she could be particularly cruel and evil without consequence, because vinh would take it and roll over -- could even be her way of controlling things too, like vinh with abraxas, because we know vinh has no issues with being led around in the bedroom, so that’s some food for thought. i don’t think she thinks about it after or remembers it much … she really doesn’t think about vinh unless it suits her or if she needs to. i always notice how, in episode four, safiya immediately knows what max is talking about when she asks if safi’s ever transformed into amanda, gwen, or lucas. she owns up immediately, confesses, and understands intimately what situation max is referring to. but when max asks about vinh and the phone, there is a brief moment where safi just stares blankly at her -- like she’s thinking about it, like she doesn’t even remember, before it finally clicks after a beat. either she wears vinh’s metaphorical skin a lot ( which, to be fair, she does pretend to be vinh a lot in game ) or she literally thinks of him so little she’ll forget everything about him in minutes. both are likely! she doesn’t even recall what type of alcohol he likes, calling it bougie japanese brandy ‘or whatever’ … and can’t be assed to remember his phone’s pin number exactly, only vague details about a magician scientist that she clearly thought was boring and lame when vinh told her said story, if her hostility and complete forgetfulness is anything to go by. for me, it’s easy to get caught up in a ‘safi did care! she had to!’ angle about vinh, although the game repeatedly shows you over and over again that she does not. she doesn’t even care that max kissed him really, if anything, she’s more jealous of vinh being with max given some of her remarks :

( i know, technically, safi’s ‘come again?’ is more nervous than jealous per se … but there is a certain air to it, especially given the ‘i can be your new boyfriend’ comment as seen above lol. if she loves max and doesn’t care for vinh, i can only imagine how she’d feel about their romance in particular! )

and, of course, there’s that part in episode four where safi can disguise herself as vinh in order to tear lucas a new one. i enjoy that part for many reasons! seeing how safi feels so much more comfortable in someone else’s skin than her own is fascinating and makes for good foreshadowing … but there is also the reveal of her opinions on vinh, unabashed and shameless, when she is finally giving him an ounce of thought :

it’s interesting! she doesn’t care for him, really, doesn’t loathe him like lucas or gwen or her own mother, but there’s a level of vitriol regardless. she thinks him fake. she thinks him a coward. she thinks he’s scared of facing consequences and that he only acts in his own self interest and she hates every bit of that. while safi can confess to doing maya wrong and hating herself for it, she never allows vinh that same courtesy. even says as much to max, claiming that only she had the humanity to regret her choice while vinh apparently didn’t. and yet … she doesn’t hate him? doesn’t feel strongly towards him? he’s still apart of her, a large part, and she can get along with him fine on crosstalk if she so pleases and she can hate his guts but, when the raw truth is revealed, she apparently feels nothing towards him at all? it is fascinating to think about is all. how she doesn’t wish him dead but doesn’t care if he’s alive either despite everything they’ve been through, even though she hates gwen and lucas and her mother more. it’s rather mean, though that’s what makes it so complex and interesting. it shows that safi only ever cares ( and oh, does she care fiercely, obsessively ) for a very slim group of people, and that when push comes to shove, everyone else can fend for themselves for all she cares. she would protect moses and max in a heartbeat, without thought, and the piece of her within them tries valiantly to keep them safe by locking them away from the world ( another thing to dissect, certainly! ), but she doesn’t really extend such empathy towards the innocents caught in her crossfire. she may be tormenting lucas and gwen specifically, but everyone else was going to be collateral damage and safi was fine with that. at least a little bit. vinh falls in that category of inevitable damage, i think, despite their closeness and despite their history, and you can tell that’s what really wounds him at the end of things. safi couldn’t even torment him, didn’t have the want or energy to do so, he was valiantly apart of her and safi didn’t even care about that. very interesting! it’s also heartbreaking in many ways to see two people who should’ve been able to lean on each other, who should’ve loved one another, be nothing but strangers at the end of things. an example of how tragedy doesn’t always bring people closer. sometimes it drives you worlds apart from the one you should be grieving with, which can be seen in other life is strange games, most notably with chloe and joyce, i think.

anyway! tldr : it’s complicated and worth exploring. there are many ways you can interpret their relationship and i highly encourage everyone to find what angle is most interesting to them! and i don’t blame you for finding their dynamic fascinating because it’s easily one of my favorites in double exposure … i don’t think of it often, but it’s always lingering in the back of my mind. regardless, i hope this word vomit is helpful! if i brought up more questions than answers, i do apologize. but thank you so much for such a fun question <3 it was an absolute blast, and tickled my brain enough to pump this out asap.

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[strangerwheelerthings]

The Snowball Dance

Unfortunately, it took me a while before Nancy became my favorite character, but one of the most important scenes towards that jump in ranking was the Snowball Dance, when she asked Dustin to dance with her. First off, it's already kind of sweet that she was willing to be a chaperone at the dance in the first place. However, it’s that simple act of kindness that really lets her character shine.

Nancy was friends with the party, sometime before season one. She has genuine relationships with all the boys, even though insecurity and other teenager-doms have distanced them. Even though she no longer talks to them much, she still cares a lot. She notices them, and pays attention to their feelings. When Nancy caught sight of Dustin’s dejection, she didn’t just smile encouragingly, or go over to give him some sort of pep talk. She had far too much empathy for the reality of his situation for that. Nancy was a social outcast without many friends herself. She genuinely felt for him in that moment, and understood. It wasn’t pity that moved her, but compassion. 

Still, sitting and comforting him would have been an act of compassion in and of itself. Nancy asked him to dance instead. She kept in mind how it might have looked to his peers, and decided to attempt to use that in his favor instead of invoking pity; a pretty older girl wanted to dance with him. 

It's such a simple scene with no real hidden layers, which makes it hard to really dissect. But that same concept could have been handled in a hundred different ways without it being so pure and good as it was. Nancy could have come across as kind of uncomfortable with it, instead of being so focused on him. She didn’t have to be so sweet as she gently taught him on how to dance with a girl more naturally and less awkwardly. She wasn’t exactly sure what to say to make him feel better, but everything she did say was genuine. She kept it lighthearted, but I think she really believed everything she said; he was her favorite of Mike's friends, and he really would capture some girls hearts when he grew up.

She then proceeded to make sure he had a genuinely good time, laughing and joking with him.

The Heart of Nancy Wheeler Masterpost