#i have about 40 days to finish this fic before i reach the one year mark

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC Writer of the Month - Aug 2023: ao719

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @ao719. We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: ao719 Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Anitah

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

I first started playing in June 2018. The Royal Romance was the first book I played, and I got hooked from the end of the first chapter. At the time, they were midway through releasing TRR book 3, so I binged books 1 & 2 and finally caught up on the day of the wedding, where the chapter ended with the attack at the boutique. Then I didn’t know what to do with myself because it was the first time I had to wait a week to find out what was going to happen.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

Finding Tumblr was a complete accident. I was googling something really dumb about Liam and TRR and happened to stumble across a link for a fic on Tumblr. At the time, I didn’t know what Tumblr was; I’d heard of it but had no idea what it consisted of. The fic I came across was around 40+ chapters, and I was in my glory reading this angsty story about Liam, but it wasn’t finished, so when I reached the last updated chapter, I was like, “I need more.” So I opened Tumblr and searched for more Liam fics and found a trove. I lurked for another month or so before finally making my account in September 2018.

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

I wish I had some good story for it, but it’s the most basic thing, lol. It’s just my initials and a significant date. I think if I came into the fandom with the intention of actually doing something with the blog, I would have tried to come up with something a little more clever and creative, but I had zero intention of doing anything but reading. I thought about changing it a few years ago, but when I learned that I’d have to relink everything in my masterlist, it didn’t seem worth the hassle.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

It’s from the day TRR 3 ended and it’s about how I was sad that it was over but was glad that I had all these stories to read.

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

I’d never written anything until I joined the fandom, so I’ve only been writing for almost five years now. The thought of writing didn’t even cross my mind when I joined the fandom, but within a couple of weeks of making my blog, I had a random idea pop up in my head, and for some reason, I decided to write it down. A few days later, after talking myself out of posting and then talking myself back into it, I bit the bullet. For me to post a story that I wrote was entirely out of my comfort zone. I’m pretty shy and tend to be more of a wallflower, so I don’t usually put myself out there, especially like that, and I’ve never been someone who does something where I intentionally set myself up, knowing there is a very good chance that I will fail. And social media on any platform can be a pretty intimidating and terrifying place when you open yourself up, especially to strangers, even by way of posting a measly little fanfic. So to say I was terrified of posting that first fic is an understatement, but I’m so glad that I did.

6- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

The Royal Romance will always be my favorite. It was the first book I ever played and was the only one I played for well over a year (I just kept replaying over and over and over until @cocomaxley convinced me to give MotY a try, which I fell in love with). It’s my comfort book. And like every book, it definitely has its flaws, but I love it and the characters so much. And TRR is my favorite book to write about. Liam will always be my number one guy.

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

The first fic that I wrote was I Dare You. It’s not an all-time favorite of mine, but I like it well enough that I wouldn’t change anything about it.

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

This is tough because I have a few that I love for different reasons, but I think Always You will always be the most special to me because it was the first series I wrote that I can truly say I poured my whole heart into. I love that story, and I love the history between Liam and the OC, their bond, and their relationship. 

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

When I decided to start Hopeless Hearts, I didn’t think it would be received any differently from most things I’d written before. It was an idea I’d kept on the back burner for over 2 years prior to writing it because I didn’t think it was anything spectacular or out of the box. It turned out to be my most well-received series, and it became one of my personal favorites as well.

I don’t think anything I’ve written has left me feeling as though I wished it had gotten more. I’m still surprised to this day that anyone wants to read anything I’ve written at all, so any love that my fics get is beyond appreciated.

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

Angst (but with a HEA). I love putting my characters through the wringer before giving them that happily ever after they deserve. Whether I’m reading or writing, there’s something about feeling the pain and longing they’re going through that gets me emotionally invested. I think that’s why I love the second chance romance trope so much, too. It’s a really versatile trope, but there’s a lot of room for angst in those kinds of stories because of that established history between the characters and a past that tore them apart the first time around.

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

I think I sprinkle a little bit of myself into all of my MCs/OCs. It’s usually something small like a favorite food, a hobby, certain mannerisms, etc. I think the one that I’ve added more of myself into than any other and can relate to the most personality wise would definitely be Charlotte.

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

I struggle with all of it here and there, and I’m constantly questioning whether something makes sense, if it’s flowing together, if it’s too descriptive or not descriptive enough, etc. I think the one area I most consistently struggle with is deciding where and how to end because I always want to leave my chapters with a cliffhanger or if I’m finishing something for good, I want to give it the ending it deserves. 

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

I have quite a few that are unfinished that I know I more than likely won’t ever pick back up, mostly because I just lost my mojo for them, but there are definitely some that I want to finish. I’d really like to get back to Past Meet Present one day. I don’t even remember why I got off track with writing it, and it’s been at least two years or more since I last updated it 🫣 so I’m not sure if anyone would even still be interested at this point, but I’d really like to finish that along with Breaking Point and Us Again.

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first? 

No. Maybe. I don’t know, lol. I try to be a “never say never” kind of person, but writing is something that I’ve done for almost five years that literally no one in my real life knows about. Not my friends, not my family, not a single soul. It’s like my dirty little secret. And it’s a little tough because it does get lonely sometimes when you have something that you love doing so much but you just feel like you can’t share or aren’t ready to share that part of yourself with even those closest to you. I’m a pretty self-conscious person, and posting on here where I can hide behind a screen is hard enough; I get nervous and have a good spike of anxiety every time I post something, no matter what it is. I don’t know if I could handle someone who knows me personally even knowing that I write, let alone actually reading something I’ve written. I’ve got the bubble gut just thinking about it 🥴

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing? 

I’ve been lucky enough to talk to and befriend some amazing and talented people in the time I’ve been here who I’ve certainly looked up to when it comes to their writing talents. And there are also those writers who I got to know after I’d been writing for a while that not only continued to inspire me with their amazing stories and talent but who also became a huge support and really close friends. They were and/or are always willing to brainstorm, look over snippets, help in those moments when I’ve been extra critical of myself and feeling very unsure, and/or have just been the absolute best cheerleaders and constantly supportive and encouraging to not only me but others as well. I don’t want to make a list because I always end up forgetting someone and I don’t want to leave anyone out, but anyone that fits that bill above, you know how much I love and appreciate each one of you.

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

I’d say either Always You or Hopeless Hearts for a movie. Series I think Full Disclosure with some Charlotte shenanigans would be pretty fun 😂

17- Do you write original fiction? 

I haven’t. I’ve been asked a few times about whether I’ve thought about turning a couple of my series into original stories, but I just don’t think I’ll have the confidence to ever do it 😬

18 -  What other hobbies do you have?

I do photography. I love calligraphy and making hand drawn quote signs on wood or canvas. I love to read — I’m currently in my fantasy girl era and have been obsessing over the ACOTAR series for months, lol. 

19 - What’s your favorite emoji? 

I use so many to express myself in conversations that I think it would be hard to pick just one. My most commonly used ones: 💀 😂 🥲 😬 😍 🥴 🥹

20: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

I just want to thank CFWC for working so hard to help keep this fandom active and supporting everyone here. 

To anyone who’s taken any time to read my stories and interact with me in any way, I appreciate it more than I can say. 

This place has been such an escape for me over the past (almost) five years, one I’m still very much in need of. So, whether you’re a content creator, writer, artist, reader, whatever the case may be, whether we’ve interacted before or not, thank you for what you’ve done to help keep this fandom alive.

[tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land]

OMG WHAT?? HANDA WOOOON?????? NO WAYYYYYYYY

I know a grand total of about 2 of you follow me for vampdies things but help me with my fanfic anyways please

[iwannascreameurekaa]

A giant list of fics in the making

Being written to POST

Junior Year

Chapter 15 and on. I'm trying to figure out to get to the end of the school year in that fic.

Valgrace in Tartarus (no title yet)

First chapter is almost fully written. It's going to have about 40 chapters total and I want to write the whole thing out before I post anything about it so it might take a while sorry!

Where Art Thou, Emilio?

Romeo and Juliet but it's valgrace! Almost want to fully write this before I post anything so it might take even longer because I cannot for the life of me find an easily accessible and readable translation of the play :(

A fic about valgrace first kiss (not titled yet) based off a tumblr post I have been unable to find :(

Basically about valgrace trying to have their first kiss but Leo keeps burning Jason's lips 

Sequel fic to Realization, is it You? 

Qinter fic but this one is a time skip to the end of the tenth book and it's winter perspective 

Back To Life

My valgrace angst series that has two works so far and I'm working on more!

Being written but unable to post 

Use your body

I have the 4th chapter done. I am in agony that I can't post on the fic. 5th chapter is halfway done and there's supposed to be about 11/12 chapters in total and most of them are half written already. Can't promise that anything will be posted on this fic any time soon I'm trying to work it out! Again I'm very sorry.

Two solangelo one shots that go together (smut) ofc

First one is called "an apple a day keeps the doctor bent over and moaning for me" and the second one has no title but it contains one of my fav tropes which it the aphrodisiacs so yippie!! Same at use your body, I don't know when these will be posted and the first one isn't even done and the second is barely worked on anyways so...

Random stuff that might be posted if I ever get them done

Fun-Dip!

A cheesy valgrace kiss fic about Leo having a fundip flavored chapstick. Silly and unserious. It's been in my drafts since may and is barely halfway done. I have no motivation to finish or worn on it right now but I might be possessed who knows.

Will Solace on the Argo II rewrite

No title for this yet. First chapter is less than a thousands words written right now. And that's the only thing I have written too 😭😭 rough outline for it and idk if I'll ever finish it tbh. 

Fics that I need to update and am trying to update but idk what to write

I Don't Know Who You Are but I Love You 

YALL I PROMISE IM TRYING TO WRITE ANOTHER STUPID CHAPTER. I'm dying. Last time I update it was APRIL... my bad guys... um and it has reached 14,000 hits since then and I wanted to post a celebration chapter but I had no motivation. Ughhhhrhhwsiyfiwdh

Girl Alone (titled I Am Something a while ago)

I'm thinking about writing another chapter but I'm not allowed to post anything with sh in it rn and that's kinda the whole plot of girl alone so... yeah... I just don't wanna write something that I'm gonna barely enjoy writing and not even be able to enjoy posting it either it just makes no sense to me sorry 

Olympus

You bitches have been asking for another chapter of this for over a YEAR it's insane and I am grateful for it. I am currently rewriting the first three chapters cause I freaking HATE how I used to write and also like it sucked?? How do y'all enjoy this shitty writing dude I was so bad at writing smut 😭 anyways idk when they'll be updated and idk when a 4th chapter will come out but I'm always thinking about it 

The Soul I Hold

Eeehhhh I lost motivation for this. I always get little scenes in my head about what I want in this fic but I never know how to connect them so I gave up. I will probably pick this fic up again and finish it one day but these days I have ahead of me are not those days. 

When I Die, I'll Let Go

I lost motivation for this one too. I have so so many ideas for this but I have no idea how to get them into words that make sense so I'm just going to keep making playlists for it until I get the spark back 

[rarepairnation]

hi abby!! you love talking abt your fics? well, as it happens, i LOVE listening to people talk abt their fics *high-fives you* so hereee u go: 8, 17, 23, 24, 33 and 40 :)

hiiii ria thank you <333 [high fives you back] this is a beautiful synergy we are living...sorry this took me several days i just kept not having a shareable last line. for every we're so back there is always an it's so over. we're here now and that's what matters LOL

8. share the last line that you wrote

you have kept me waiting, my lord steward, she says when his footsteps stop, his reflection hovering just out of reach of her mirror.

well this is NOT umbar fic OR condolences congratulations. one day i will learn to finish one thing before i start another. but it is set in a slightly alternate version of the same reality. this is the crazy forty years later everyone lives au where aragorn is king and denethor is his steward and finduilas is actually the one running the place. it’s just an excuse for me to write “what if we made our healthy loving political marriage a messier and more political v-shape because you just HAD to officially get back together with your situationship from when you were 25 and oh he just HAPPENS to be the king.” they are shockingly functional about it (i do not know if i could call it healthy. but it is Incredibly High-Functioning and They Are Having Fun. so who am i to stop them!). conceptually/vibes-wise this is the result of my mind stirring around "their wives know the steward serves the king, and sometimes that goes beyond matters of state" (like truly...WHOA boy. that knocked me flat. @bretwalda-lamnguin i WILL respond to that post eventually i have things to say they just have to marinate a little longer) + regent!finduilas as a concept and an Energy + finduilas's general pure concentrated "i can fix him" beam + also going on a tangent off of anna @potatoesandsunshine's "our marriage is already bad enough what if we ruined someone else's life with it" theory. and this came out.

17. what is your favourite trope to write

NAMES AND TITLES AND MANNERS OF ADDRESS BABY!!! that shit is like drugs for me. whenever i'm messing around with it i feel like i am at the very height of caring about and understanding my own work i KNOW that sounds obnoxious as hell but like. aghhhhh. im in there THINKING. about specifically when and where and how one manner of address might shift to another and whether that is different inside the narration and out loud and what each name and title means in which situation. yeah im normal about hierarchies why do you ask.

23. where do you usually write

my beloved local coffeeshop down the street from my apartment! i am there as i write this. my regular barista often makes fun of me bc he sees me running for the train in the morning bc i am perpetually late for work. unfortunately the earliest i can make it out of the house in the evening is 7 and they close at 9 but it’s a good two hours. then it’s off to my friends’ apartment (they’re my downstairs neighbours i basically also live there) for like another two hours. yeah i do this every day. i am aware i am insane but it is the only way i get anything done.

24. which fic do you think is your funniest

hmm. i feel like im not often intending to be particularly funny. wait no its definitely open arms. “sokka, panicking: you like guys!” is literally in the description. i wrote it bc of a shitpost. WOW that is possibly the throwback of all time. that’s like the first fic i wrote back when i started getting really Good at writing because i was wildly hyperfixated on avatar and it was covid and i wrote 100k in a year. well well well

33. which of your fic titles is your favourite

ok i did do this one but im gonna give a runner up. TO THE VERY DEAR MEMORY OF [ ] is a personal fave for sure bc it's. idk nontraditional? well it's based off of this image and it took me a long time of testing different things before i figured out a way to appropriately represent that erasure of the name on the headstone by the water...the sensation that there Used to be something there, that there was Supposed to be something there, but all that is left is the water. and i'm very pleased by the effect of the brackets and how it looks on the ao3 page. it just brings me a lot of joy to let myself kind of fuck around and do whatever i think is cool. im trying so so so hard to internalize "get weird with it!" and its the baby steps out here.

40. pick one of your fics and share a quote to go with it (not a quote from the fic, but an outside quote that fits)

ooh ok a throwback. race for a hurricane (speaking of the titles/names/manners of address trope this is my BEST execution of it) + "the french have a saying: the fate of glass is to break. maybe the fate of spies is to just fade away. but with any luck, we leave something behind" -spectre, 2015. im getting that last line tattooed someday.

fic writer asks

[bxriles]

Thank you for tagging me @viktoriaashleyyx 🥰🥰🥰

Describe your writing process from idea to posting/publishing?

I typically get an idea and then I sit on it for a little while. Could be anywhere from weeks to months. I'll write little drabbles for myself that will never see the light of day so I can get used to writing from certain perspectives. When it comes to posting fics, I typically like to have the fic completely outlined from start to finish and also have the first full draft of the fic being 60-75% complete. Once I decide to actually post it, I'll do a reread of each chapter, move things around, and then proof it. Then I wait a few more days and read and proof the chapter that I'm about to post one more time. And then I'll save it as a draft on ao3, read it from my phone (I feel like it helps me catch typos if I read it on a different medium from where I wrote it), make whatever edits/revisions I need to make, and then finally post it!

I know. That's a lot. It's a labor of love!

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

I straddle the line between the two. I know I said above that I have a full outline before I post, but as I write, I almost always end up abandoning it. I never completely abandon it though. My outlines almost always have the big beats that I want to reach, but the little spots in between those big beats often change a TON. By the time I'm 40% through a story, I've likely deviated from my outline almost entirely, save for those big beats I mentioned.

What do you listen to when you are writing?

Depends on what I'm writing. But I'm a big fan of those dark academia playlists on youtube. I just like the moody classical music tbh.

What’s your drink of choice(while writing)?

Also depends! I always have my emotional support hydroflask from 2016 full of water with me and then I likely also have an iced coffee or bubbly water as well.

Promote yourself! What’s your favorite thing you’ve written?

I really adore my Rosinante fic Dust Specks. It's a modern AU revolving around Corazon and Doflamingo from One Piece and it has such a special place in my heart. It's definitely not perfect and there a lot of things that I would go back and change, but I just really love that one 🥹

Share a fic of yours that you think is underrated/deserves more love.

I will again answer with Dust Specks. I feel like it gets overlooked because it doesn't focus on any ships whatsoever (I guess you could say there's Doffy/Vergo if you squint).

Do you have any advice for new writers?

Enjoy the process. The finished product is so wonderful to have and it's such a great accomplishment to finally mark a fic as Complete, but the finished product doesn't matter if you didn't enjoy writing it. As someone who's DREAM it is to be a published author, I do a disgusting amount of writing that will never see the light of day. I don't write because I want the feedback (though it's so wonderful to receive feedback at all), I write because I literally don't think I would still be alive if I didn't. As someone who is 29 who has been writing stories since she was literally 4 years old, write for the process and enjoy every second of it. The finished product is just the cherry on top 🩷

What is a writing style/technique that others do really well that you'd like to get better at?

SETTINGS. SETTINGS. SETTINGS. SETTINGSSSSSSSSSS.

I suffer from White Room Syndrome sO BAD. Which is ironic because high fantasy probably makes up about 90% of what I read. I have no idea what it is for me and writers who execute a perfect setting are absolutely unreal to me. Ask me to write a horrible, cutting argument? Happy to oblige! Ask me to write some wild ass internal monologue? FUN! But ask me to describe what someone's room looks like? My brain blue screens. I've been working on this issue for at least decade now and I still struggle with it lmaoo.

Is there a character you were surprised you enjoyed writing as much as you did?

Utahime from JJK! Her perspective really got cut back in my Gojo fic (My Boy Builds Coffins because shameless self promo, right?) but I actually wrote from her POV a lot in my deleted scenes. She gets sidelined a lot in the manga (all the women in JJK do if we're being real with ourselves) but I actually really loved writing her. She deserves more love. I'm also having a lot of fun writing Az in my acotar fic Cave Canem. I'm pretty harsh on the IC, but Az has just been really fun to explore.

I am tagging: @olenvasynyt, @separatist-apologist and @serpentandlily! You all are so talented, I couldn't not tag you! (Absolutely ZERO pressure, of course!)

And anyone else who wants to do this! 🥰

[mango-jpeg]

st elmo's fire and drop the knife notes

(i wasn't sure at first if i would make these posts again this year (like.. get a new bit bro) but ultimately i do think they're helpful for me so i'll stick w it for now)

i don’t remember much about persona 3 from playing it 15 years ago. basically all i remember is 1) being obsessed with akihiko 2) sobbing like a baby when i finished it @ 2 am 3) the crackly, fuzzy quality of my old tube tv

anyway i also don't remember writing much of st elmo's fire bc i was so inside it the whole time. i did think more about structure for both fics, i think that's something i'm going to focus on more this year

sidenote: i read chuck palahniuk's consider this in jan which was a great read on its own and also gave me lots to think about re: writing, and influenced me/my thinking for both of these fics

additional sidenote: coming to terms w the fact that the style of writing i enjoy most + would like to imitate works best in first person but i do not want to write or read first person fanfiction

for the first time i wrote drafts/outlines of almost every scene in my notes app then wrote them out fully in docs, which it turns out is a good way to do things

past tense? again?? who am i.

st elmo’s fire wrote from feb 6-7? to feb 25

this is maybe the most for me and only me thing i’ve written. i’ve wanted to write an awkward morning after pill scene for so long

looked up their personas bc i was curious about their mythology and obviously seized on the st elmo’s fire thing

(i thought it'd be cool to include a bit of magic in a fic that otherwise ignores all the canon magic)

this fic was my way of reaching back thru time to my horrible teenage self + saying you’re gonna be ok kid

reading:

I Have Some Questions for You, Rebecca Makkai

Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris

Heartburn, Nora Ephron

listening: st elmo’s fire (approx 40 times a day), hold it in

fav early bit i wrote: the whole paragraph about shinji’s boobs a fav late addition:

Inside the air was dry and charged; Akihiko was sure if he touched Shinji he’d spark. He felt the kind of calm certainty he usually felt only before matches, when he knew the result would be in his favour.

drop the knife wrote from feb 21 to mar 10

i have sequel disease. once i've written the long 'figuring out the characters' fic i neeeed to write another one. i think it's getting worse actually, i think i might have trilogy disease (write one long standalone and immediately want to write 2 related works)

the kind of cooking i do is soup. if i had things my way this is the only food we'd eat. this made writing the recipes a huge pain in the ass bc i do not think shinji is a 'throw everything into a pot and let it figure itself out' kind of cook

took the key lime pie recipe straight out of the last chapter of heartburn. idk if this is really the ‘right’ dessert but it’s the kind of food i’d actually make and i wanted to include one heartburn recipe

i thought writing aki instead of akihiko for the whole fic would be annoying and then switching between the two became a way of reflecting shinji's attempt at putting distance between them ie. thinks 'aki' in the abstract, and when his guard is low. idk how much that comes thru in reading but i made the attempt

reading:

Heartburn, Nora Ephron (i reread chapters for 3 weeks. i loved everything about this book. i’m codependent on it now.)

Wallflower at the Orgy, Nora Ephron

Tokyo Ueno Station, Yu Miri

Slaughterhouse Five, Kurt Vonnegut

listening: sore, knife, i got heaven

fav early bit:

Aki looked at him. He was within arm’s reach and his face was soft in a way it rarely was, his eyes large in the dark. Shinjiro wanted him in ways he’d given up on long ago, wanted him bloody and beneath him, wanted him laughing and leaning in to close the distance.

late addition:

Aki was like one of those dogs bred to rip prey out of their burrows or drag sleds across the tundra; being forced to stay inside was torturous, he needed something he could sink his teeth into.

took me ages to come up with a title, i didn’t even have a working one. found the poem oxygen when i went searching and i liked the phrase drop the knife bc knives are used in cooking (lol) + implies being disarmed + the poem has the sort of half of my soul vibe these guys have goin on

[eyes-of-mischief]

weekly fic recs | 37

fandoms: dc, hp, jjk, naruto, sherlock

dc

Ain't No Compass, Ain't No Map by ebjameston

CPS Agent, pointing at Tim Drake: We need to take him with us Red Hood: He's fine where he is CPS: He's a minor Hood: Timbo, you a minor? Tim: Can't prove it CPS: I mean, I can. There are records – Tim, who has just finishing hacking CPS to remove his own file: Oh really, tell me more about these records

+++

A CPS agent gets sent to investigate a tip that Tim Drake has been abandoned by his parents and is living with the Red Hood. The CPS agent leaves with no Tim Drake, a date with Red Hood's lieutenant, and an intern who's promising to fix the IT systems at his office.

It's a weird day for Theo.

The Boys of Summer by TheResurrectionist

The bat bros are ride or die. And if that means searching for a very specific kind of pudding in the middle of the night so pregnant Babs doesn’t kill Dick, and fighting off the subsequent mafia hit job that follows, then they’re gonna fucking do that, you know?

it's all about light because all its been before is shadows by victoriousscarf

“Aren’t you supposed to be attacking me too?” the boy in front of him asked, even though there was already blood on his cheeks and he was favoring one side.

Talon tilted his head because he already knew the answer to that question was a yes. “You seem to be barely standing as it is.”

jjk

In the Silence, I Hear Your Voice by TheLamplightDetective

Toge felt Yuuta’s fingers drift against his, the barest moment of skin on skin, and his heart tugged harder, as if to pull his attention to this moment, declaring This. This is good. This is perfect. Hold onto it. How achingly unfair that it could all be destroyed in mere seconds.

It was easy, he had discovered, to thrive on dust and darkness, but only if you had forgotten the taste of the light.

After years being called a monster, Inumaki Toge has finally found a place to call home. But the past casts a long shadow, and the sight of a familiar face sends him spiralling back into his childhood, a place where he was a tool, a dog to be used, where his silence was the greatest gift he could give the world. This is the Inumaki curse, to be lost in the darkness - but his is not the only voice crying out to be heard. Inumaki backstory, with Toge/Yuuta romance.

jjk x dc

blaring trumpets (heralding thorns) by whatisthisnightmare 

Toge didn’t mean to get careless. But when all is said and done, he slipped up, and now he’s in a smelly alley watching a cosplayer shoot through the knee of a robber. Things could be worse.

Meanwhile, Red Hood would like the kid he saved to stop trolling him with Japanese food.

jjk x naruto

rain on my parade by unolvrs

(mature) (graphic depictions of violence, major character death)

The audacity of this world to give her Fushiguro’s eyes and Itadori’s hair—Nobara is left with nothing but memories of what-could-have-been, and she has never felt more alone.

(Or: Nobara dislikes the name ‘Sakura’.)

hp

Princeps by Lomonaaeren

Harry has worked for years as an Unspeakable to identify the best point where he might go back in time to change the impact of Voldemort’s war. Now he knows: he will have to return to his parents’ Hogwarts years and encourage the Slytherins to stand on their own instead of following a leader. He knows how to assume the post of Defense professor and how to reach the Slytherins. And from there, well, surely nothing can go too wrong.

Don't Fuck With Florists (They'll Fuck You Up) by MayMarlow

Unsatisfied with his post-war life, Harry decides to get to the root of all of his problems when that root was still working at Borgin and Burkes shop in the late 40s. He’s the Master of Death, damn it, he can do what he wants for once in his life.

Tom Riddle isn’t particularly happy about working at a small, dingy shop for magical artifacts, no matter how interesting those artifacts are. He’s even less happy when an insufferable stranger sets up the most obnoxious flower shop right across the street.

What follows would be a romantic comedy, if it weren’t for politics. sherlock x hp

Whispers in Corners by esama

Everything started with a stumble - his new life in a new world as well as his surprisingly successful career as a medium.

Symphony by esama

Despite all the magic in the world, Harry had never encountered magic like that of a genius mind. A whole family of them was bit overwhelming really.

[quaranmine]

alright, stats time. numbers! percentages! analysis!

GO ME! i finished my writing challenge last night. though i have done them before, i have never had a 30 day streak--my longest was 11 days, previously.

NANOWRIMO "GOAL": 50k words in a month. lol nope i didn't even plan to do that but that's the perspective i'm putting the post in

MY GOAL: add 30k to IBW.

fail. i added 5.2k to IBW in the end, the equivalent of finishing just one chapter. basically, I completed 17% of my goal. not something I'm happy about but i did inevitably mostly get past a thing that was giving me trouble.

MY SECOND GOAL: add 30k aggregated to any projects

total word count: 21,366. that's techinically a fail but i'm not gonna count it because i reached 70% of my target wordcount AND THAT'S GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME!!! 70 is a passing grade afterall :] if we want to put this in perspective of nano, i basically completed 40% of nano, which is great for a first-ever run (especially since i have never completed a 50k fic so far, let alone in a month. baby steps for me, i just do not write that quickly.)

MY THIRD GOAL: write something every day

SUCCESS! i did do that and i am very proud of it. it was shockingly hard sometimes. during the challenge i was like "i am never doing this again" and now literally less than a day after im like "hm i should do this again next year!" why am i like this? who knows!

So, let's look at other stats.

Number of fics worked on: four. (IBW, grumbot fic mainly, hitchhiker's au, and tumble town gothic)

Fanfic started and completed within the month: do you see no ghosts in me at all? (13,651 words). This means that ~64% of my time was spent on this fanfic, compared to any others (if we go by word count, as i don't remember which days specifically were used on this versus the others)

Average daily wordcount: 712 words. again, to reach the 30k goal i needed roughly 1k on average per day, so this is again about 70% of that. It is worth noting that my average for my last writing challenge in the spring was 548, so I did much better on average this month despite being forced to do it in a much longer streak. that's probably because the 0 wordcount days in the last challenge dragged the average down, so writing every day helped me a lot.

Lowest daily WC: 131

Highest daily WC: 1897

i think both of those were the same fic actually (grumbot fic.) the low wordcounts mostly represented lack of time, as i would stop writing whenever it got so late that i started falling asleep midsentence. however low wordcounts on IBW mostly represent lack of inspiration, except for the day 30, where it represented research.

all in all, i think it was a successful challenge. i'm still in writing mode and was already thinking about what i could do tonight, which is great because like...i am no longer beholden to this challenge but am still wanting to keep going (i'll just likely not force myself to do anything anymore if it's like 11:30pm and i havent done anything. i will just go to bed instead.)

the main lesson here is that i can Do Things when i want to really force myself to do, which is good because i often doubt my own abilities especially in connection with my writing. it's very personal compared to other stuff i do, so i very much love and appreciate everybody's support and kind reviews because i straight up would not be here or doing any of this without you. like i would have just gone back to hide under a rock lol.

i feel like completing these challenges gives me a lot more confidence in myself and my abilities, and gives me momentum to make consistent progress on my works even when things are a little rough. sometimes in writing you just Gotta Do It even if there isnt much inspiration, because it'll unlock the way for other scenes where you DO have inspiration.

now then. if someone can tell me why i was able to fully complete inktober for two years in a row, and pull off two of these writing challenges in one year, but CAN'T stick with actual responsible adult habits--

[picathartidae]

Hello, I didn't know you had a tumblr! Sorry to ask you about an old fic of yours(if you don't want to answer, feel free to ignore this ask), but would you ever consider re-posting the deleted X-Men fic? I believe the title was Being Human and it starred Jean and Scott among other characters.

If you don't want to leave unfinised work on the internet, I understand even if I personally appreciate a fic that's going to remain as a WIP forever as much as a finished one. I just want to say I really loved that fic and it left quite an impression on me. My memory of it is getting more fuzzy over the years but there are still some bits I remember and cherish. It's to this day undoubtedly one of my favorite fics I've ever read. Thank you.

Hello! Never be sorry to ask me about any of my stories, especially old ones!! This was such a lovely message to get!

I'm so so so pleased and flattered that Being Human means so much to you! It's unlikely I'll repost it publicly, since I was writing this thing in the mid 2010s and I don't fully remember where I was planning to go with it. I know it was ultimately building towards the Dark Phoenix Saga, but there were a whole bunch of subplots I have no idea about because it's been too long. I'd feel compelled to rewrite the whole thing, and there are other projects I want to focus on and finish before rehashing old stuff.

But! I do still have the original 40 chapter WIP as a google doc. Also, I know disjointed and scattered half-written scenes are not really an ending, let alone a third act, but I do also have a document full of a bunch of Dark Phoenix scenes in case you want an idea of how it would've concluded. I've added the links for both below for you. I hope it still lives up to how you remember it.

Thank you so much for reaching out, this was honestly one of the nicest things ever. And thank you so much for reading it, back in the day.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

any fics that focus on stiles’ adhd? preferably without it being turned into a joke or smth. love u <333

AND

Anonymous asked:

Hi there! I love all that you do on this blog it’s my lifeblood. Could you recommend any fics that are mostly about Stiles’ mental health or adhd? I’m fine with any ship if they have them. Thank! <3

Here you go!

When Claudia Died by VanillaFolder

(1/1 I 909 I Teen I No Pairing)

When Claudia dies, a ten year old Scott watches his best friend crumble from within.

Thanks, Barbie by 138andcounting 

(1/1 I 3,397 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Derek is at the movies and there's this kid that won't. Shut. Up. He babbles, he talks about the movie, he talks about any old shit, and Derek is getting increasingly pissed off. There aren't many other people in the cinema, but the ones that are there keep shushing him so Derek doesn't have to.

Twist is, the movie sucks. So Derek finds himself actually listening to the kid's continuous babble. And it's kind of... intriguing? This 'Stiles', or whatever he calls himself, is clearly ten different kinds of crazy, but Derek can't help but want to find out more about him. Like, when Stiles is talking about something random, Derek is imagining the questions he would ask if he could. And does a mental high five when Stiles answers them anyway. And kind of. Gets annoyed. When the other people in the cinema shush him so he can't finish his sentences. God, what is HAPPENING to him?

4 AM Knows All My Secrets by elysiumwaits

(1/1 I 3,815 I Teen I Sterek)

In which Stiles can't sleep.

No, you don't get it. He really can't sleep.

Don't do research based on fanfics (or do it) by Chuluvya

(1/1 I 5,903 I General I Sterek)

Stiles had a problem: he was smothered and uncomfortable in pack piles, and every time they do it, he couldn't sleep.

So, being who he is, Stiles goes searching for a solution to the problem, because he love puppies piles and want to be into them, and after two days of searching, he ended up on ao3.

And the word 'nesting' sounds like the most effective solution.

Eyebrows Are The Windows To The Soul by UnfortunatelyDisastrous

(6/6 I 12,908 I Teen I Sterek)

Only Stiles can decipher Derek’s eyebrow gymnastics.

Or Five times Stiles deciphers Derek’s nonverbal communication while everyone else watches on in astonished amusement, then one time he’s called out on it.

Three Phone Calls by pandabomb

(3/3 I 15,676 I Mature I Sterek)

“You’re not a hooker, Stiles.” “Okay, yes, true, but—for a thousand dollars…”

An AU in which Scott and Stiles live in a shitty apartment in NYC, Lydia is still queenly, and Derek is a clueless rich guy who mistakes Stiles for a hooker. Light-hearted, thinly-plotted fun.

An Alpha's Mate by EmeraldOcean

(20/? I 90,014 I Explicit I Sterek)

The threat of a rival pack and the discovery of a previously forgotten Hale family legend has Derek playing reluctant partners with his uncle Peter. And that's not the only strange thing that Stiles has noticed about Derek lately. But even the unexpectedly pleasant changes to their relationship can't completely erase the feeling that there's something he's not being told... Something that may change his life irrevocably.

A Crack in the Stained Glass by SpaceAce281990

(24/24 I 94,464 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Stiles has reached a breaking point in his life. He no longer knows how or why he is in his marriage or how it got to the point it has. Still in love with Derek, and tired of the constant pain and chaos, he begins to reminisce on how he got to this point. Speaking to Derek unlocks his emotions in ways he didn't think was possible before this night.

From the Darkness Comes a Spark by ash_mcj

(30/40 I 220,317 I Teen I Sterek)

It’s extraordinary how much can happen in a single year. How relationships can fall apart, along with the people in them. How a friend can become a lifeline, holding you up in the sea of emotions you find yourself drowning in. How you can lose everything you care about.

In one year, the death of Stiles’ mother sent his father into alcoholism, as he tried to battle the inner darkness with a bottle in each hand. Stiles’ godfathers, Peter and Chris, spent most of their time trying to pull the whiskey from his fingers, but it didn’t change the fact that Stiles was essentially losing both of his parents.

In one year, Derek found company in two girls who irrevocably changed his life. One gave him distressing clarity that caused him to pull away from his anchor, and the other lit his world on fire until there was nothing but ash on his hands.

[majestyeverlasting]

Can you write prompt(s) 40 & 48 with Dad!Bucky x reader pls?

♡ Of course! Thanks for sending this request in! For the kids, I went ahead and used Jamie and Eden, who are in my Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader fics. There's cute and funny family ~shenanigans~ in this piece (and Eden ends up duping Bucky). I hope you like it!

♡ Prompt 40: "There it is. There's that smile."

♡ Prompt 48: "Those are my pajama pants. They're literally slipping down your waist."

♡ To make a request for my One Month Tumblr-versary, check out my Fluffy Prompt List :)

No Such Thing as Winning By Default Tonight

The way Jamie and Eden greeted Bucky at the door always gave him something to look forward to, to cherish. They were bouncing on the balls of their feet as if it had been ages since they last saw him. In reality, it had only been a span of hours since he’d left that morning. And with sparkling eyes, they waited for him to take off his backpack and shrug off the leather jacket. You’d spent the day out with them, and they were ready to tell their father about everything. From checking out new books at the library, going to the park, and even getting snow cones.

As soon as Bucky finished putting his things in the closet, he scooped Eden up and kissed her cheek. And he pulled Jamie into a hug after giving him a fist bump—the gesture was something the boy insisted they started doing everyday because it was ‘cool.’ It was important not to forget the explosion fingers right after, because that’s what made fist bumps even cooler.

The kids talked a mile a minute as they told Bucky about their day—as if their lives depended on it. Hundreds of people had told him hundreds of things over the years and, yet, listening to their words—and yours—added a value to his life that he hadn't, or couldn’t find anywhere else in the world. A smile stretched across your face when he entered the living room with Jamie and Eden on either side of him. You were sitting on the couch with the laundry basket on the floor in front of you. Folding clothes that, admittedly, should’ve already been taken care of.

Bucky shot you a wink when your eyes met his, and you felt the smallest flutter in your stomach. After spending the day with children, you were glad to have some adult company again. It helped that he was particularly attractive in his unshaven state. “Hey, stranger,” you teased, affectionately. “How was your day?”

“Not too bad,” he said, draping his arms over the kids’ shoulders. “From what these two were telling me, it sounds like you guys went around the world while I was gone.”

That earned a laugh from you. “It feels like we did. I’m not moving for the next week.”

Jamie snorted. “But don’t you have to move? You can’t just stay still,” he said. “You’re moving right now to fold the clothes.”

You gave him a flat look, narrowing your eyes. Everyone else laughed. “Well, in that case, mister, how about you three come do it for me so I don’t have to move?” Your tone was playful.

“Uhhh... Dad can do it. I forgot how to fold,” he lied.

“‘Dad can do it?’” Bucky repeated, looking down at him in feigned disagreement. If you truly needed a break, or wanted any sort of additional help, he’d step in a heartbeat—he always did.

“Wait, I’m actually pretty good at it,” Eden spoke up, leaving her father’s side to plop beside you. “Do you want me to help, Mommy?” Without waiting for an answer, she picked out one of her shirts from the basket.

It was then that Jamie decided he was going to assist too. Instead of joining the two of you on the couch, however, he sat crossed-legged on the floor, and dug to the bottom of the basket in search of his favorite race car graphic tee. The way their brows furrowed in concentration was adorable. And because they were no longer glued to Bucky, he was able to lean down and press a kiss to your temple, hands bracing on the plush arm of the couch. Before he could pull too far away, you cupped his chin and directed his lips to yours in a brief kiss, sighing through your nose. You felt him smile upon hearing the kids’ quiet giggles.

Eden’s voice soon arose. “Hey, Mommy, look. Is this good enough?” Bucky pulled away and straightened back to his full height, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair.

On Eden’s lap was a white shirt printed with pink flowers that she had folded. “It looks great, E. Put it on the stack of your other stuff.” You pointed to the clothes of hers that you had already folded.

What you ended up finding later that evening was that one of the kids had accidentally placed Bucky’s navy blue pajama pants in your sleepwear drawer. Considering he was off in the playroom with them, you decided to put them on to go get a reaction out of him. You paired them with a gray V-neck.

When you walked in on him and the kids, they were winning in what appeared to be a play fight. They hovered over him as his back was against the floor. A helpless smile budded on your face as you stood watching in the doorway. He tried to prop himself up upon noticing you, but Jamie growled and pushed chest back down.

“Do you surrender?” He asked his father.

A laugh bubbled up Bucky’s throat. “Yes, I surrender.”

“I don’t believe him,” Eden told Jamie.

“I do! I promise,” Bucky said. “I just wanna talk to your mom.”

They let him sit up, and you caught the way his gaze traveled up your body. “Hey… those are my pajama pants,” he said, pushing himself from the floor to go stand in front of you. “They’re literally slipping down your waist.” To prove his point, he attempted to pull them up to a more proper resting place on your hips. But they slouched back down a bit when he let go.

“No they’re not," you challenged with a smile. "They’re mine."

“Oh, is that right?” He let his hands come to rest on your hips, and in turn you wrapped your arms around his neck, gazing into his eyes. “They look good on you,” he said, voice low. And before you could register his intentions, he reached around you to squeeze your backside.

Bucky chuckled at your small squeak and dipped down for a kiss. He was gentle, and warm, and smelled woodsy. When he started to pull away, you thought it was way too soon. But, a second later, you realized it was because Jamie had started tugging on the back of his shirt.

You stifled a laugh at the way he rolled his eyes before turning around. “May I help you?” He asked the boy.

“Can we do one more round?” Jamie asked. “But this time you have to go harder on us.”

Eden came to stand beside her brother’s side. “Yeah! And Mommy can be on a team with me and Jamie,” she said.

Bucky looked back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You up for that?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Maybe I should just watch. These pants probably make me wardrobe malfunction prone.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll be fine.”

That assurance is what landed you in a four-person play fight. Per Jamie’s request, Bucky does exert a little more effort. But he was still overly mindful that nobody got hurt in any other way. For the first few moments, you drew back and let Jamie and Eden make most of the advances on their father. They practically cackled every time he pinned them.

But he eventually locked eyes with you, and you knew he wasn't going to let you remain in the background of the action anymore. All you could do was squeal when he made a very direct advancement. Because you were already kneeling, it didn’t take much for him to force you the rest of the way to the floor. It happened so swiftly that all you could do was let out a surprised huff of laughter. Somehow he managed to capture both of your wrist.

“He’s got Mommy!” You heard Eden say. Then she came to your rescue by pushing his shoulder to divert his attention.

In the sliver of time before Bucky walked on his knees to get the girl, Jamie did a discrete signal to her that she nodded to. All it was was a quick swipe of his pointer finger down his cheek. And between you and Bucky, only you caught their quick exchange. It took a second for it to click that he had told her to fake cry. Or pretend to be hurt, at least.

As soon as Bucky gathered Eden into his arms, and lowered her to the floor in the most gentle 'slam' ever, she enacted their scheme. From her lying position, she winced and released a soft whine. There was no possible way that what he did could've caused any pain, but Bucky didn't even rationalize that. The only thing that rang in his mind was that he'd just hurt his little girl.

“Shoot! I’m sorry, babydoll.” He repositioned to sit in a narrow straddle, and coaxed her up to sit on his thigh. The tenderness of his voice made you want to tell him that she was fine. "What hurts, hmm?" She just continued pouting. Jamie put a hand over his mouth to hide either a smile or shock that it actually worked.

Bucky sighed as his eyes flickered over to you. All you could do was offer an expression that was likely a mix between neutral and guilty. Then he redirected his attention back to Eden and started pressing consoling kisses to her hair. When he noticed her beginning to smile, relief flooded through him. “There it is. There’s that smile,” he said. "I really am sorry, sunshine. Didn't mean to hurt you."

She craned her neck to look up at him. "Daddy..." she said, voice tentative. "I was just kidding..."

Jamie was quick to pitch in. "I only told her to so we could win by default or something. At least she's actually okay, right?" The hopeful edge to his tone made you bite back a smile. "Mom was in on it too." Snitch.

Bucky's mouth fell slightly agape, but he let out a small laugh a second later, shaking his head. "Wow," he breathed. "'Win by default,' huh? Give me a heart attack to 'win by default.'" In all fairness, it had been a somewhat mean trick. But nothing he couldn't recover from.

"I didn't even know if you were gonna believe me!" Eden claimed. She squealed when he suddenly laid onto his back, taking her with him. The sound of their mixed laughter filled the room, and the energetic buzz returned to the atmosphere.

Then Bucky made a proposal to your team. "You guys are gonna have to come save little miss from my arms if you wanna win for real," he said. "No such thing as winning by default tonight."

-

Previously fulfilled request: Cold Little Paws.

[electricbarnes]

tell me you still see me

steve rogers x reader

summary: steve has been working a lot lately. you begin to have doubts about your relationship.

↳ songs i listened to for inspiration 

wc: 5.9k | warnings: some angst, overthinking, self-doubt, implied smut 

note: this is a repost from my old account that was deleted. so if it’s familiar, that’s why! i wasn’t planning on reposting but i read it over and decided why not. i have another steve fic that i’m almost done with, so i wanted to post this in the meantime. i made a few minor edits. i hope you like it! and if you decide to reread it, thank you x1000 !!

You arrive at your apartment, hands filled with groceries for the week. You struggle to open the door with the many bags on your arms, but eventually make it inside. You kick off your heels and set the bags down on the kitchen counter. After freeing your hands, you reach into your purse to find your phone. You unlock it and tap on the first name at the top of your recent calls.

The phone rings for a bit before you hear the sound of your boyfriend’s voice saying “Hello”.

“Oh my god Steve, you’re never gonna believe what I saw at the store just now,” you say, thinking of the wild thing you witnessed during your shopping trip. It’s not everyday that you see someone throw themselves into a cereal box display. It was a hilarious sight and you just wanted to tell someone about it.

“So, I was just strolling through the isles looking for some snacks when a-” you’re cut off before getting too into the story.

“Honey, can this wait? I’m about to go into a mission briefing,” Steve says in a hushed tone. Immediately, you feel guilty for interrupting him while he’s busy. It was well into the evening and you had assumed he wouldn’t be working.  

“Oh, uh yeah of course! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” you apologize.

“That’s okay,” he reassures you, “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, talk to you later then.”

The phone beeps, indicating the call was over. You sigh and go back to the task of putting your groceries away.

You decide to lounge around the rest of the day, trading your work clothes for some comfy sweats and a tee shirt. You spend the night mindlessly scrolling through social media while reruns of some sitcom play on the tv. You even send Steve a few memes here and there. You’re not really sure if he’ll understand them but they reminded you of him.

After eating a late dinner, you channel surf for a bit before putting on a random movie. When the movie finishes, it’s nearly 11pm and you realize that Steve hasn’t called you back. You pick up your phone, tempted to call him but decide it’s better to wait till tomorrow. He hasn’t replied to your texts, so there’s a chance he’s still busy despite the late hour.

Unfortunately for you, being a superhero is a full time job, which means that Steve can be busy at any moment of any day. You knew this going into a relationship with thee Captain America. To be fair though, you didn’t think you’d actually get to know the super soldier like you do now.  

When you met Steve, he was just some handsome guy at the park who helped you with directions when you were visibly lost. You ended up seeing him at the park again a couple days later. Recognizing you, he stopped and asked if you wanted to get a coffee. Who were you to deny this man?

You spent two hours in a café getting to know each other before exchanging numbers. In hindsight, his vague answers about his career were a little suspicious. It wasn’t until you went home that night and saw a picture of Steve in a tweet captioned “idc that captain america is like 100 yrs old, he can still get it 😍”.

Needless to say, you were shocked. While you were feeling dumb for not recognizing him sooner, you also wondered why he didn’t say anything. After an awkward confrontation about the subject, he explained how he didn’t want you to go out with him just because he was Captain America. You were quick to ease his worries and reassure him that you were interested in Steve for Steve, not for his heroic persona.

Since then, your relationship with Steve has been nothing but amazing. He was always so sweet with you, taking you on simple but romantic dates. There was something about that 40s charm that was so endearing. You loved the small things, like how he would always open the door for you or how he would bring you flowers on each date. It was so easy to talk to him about anything and everything. You felt like he was not only your boyfriend, but also your best friend.

There were times where you wondered why he ever picked you, an average person compared to the super people he’d work with everyday. He could’ve had anyone he wanted. Steve would say that you were like his sanctuary from the hectic world of being an Avenger. It meant a lot to you that you could be that person for him. You thought he deserved some peace after everything he’s been through. He wanted to protect you from the evil that inherently came with the job, which you understood, so he rarely spoke about the missions he’d go on. The less you knew the better. Though sometimes, you would wish he’d open up more about what was going on while he was away. Especially since he would be gone for days on end.

It was only a month into your relationship that you realized how hard it’d be when he would leave to be Captain America. It was his first time leaving for a mission that lasted longer than a day. He had to spend a week in some place on the other side of the world with no way of contacting him. Of course, you were worried the entire time he was gone. Despite trying to distract yourself with work and personal tasks, Steve was always at the forefront of your mind.

You had never felt such relief than the day he called you after a whole week of silence. Steve had even asked you shyly if he could come over that night. You felt butterflies in your stomach when he told you that he needed to see you. It was the first time he had spent the night at your place. Having Steve’s arms wrapped around you the entire night just felt right. You knew as early as then that you loved him.

Over the year that you had been together, those long missions became easier to manage. You’d always trust that he’d come back to you in one piece. Steve would sometimes feel guilty about being away for so long that he’d try to make it up to you by taking you on an extraordinary date. But you always assured him that you were happy to just be with him, even if it was just something like the two of you watching a movie at your place.

Lately, Steve has been more distant with you. You’ve chalked it up to the fact that there’s a literal distance between you two since he’s moved upstate to the newly built Avengers compound. Before, he was just a short drive away from the Avengers tower to your apartment. Now, he’s hours away from you. There were discussions of you moving in with him, but your job was in the city and you couldn’t leave that behind.

You both decided to make the best of the situation, calling and texting whenever possible. FaceTiming was the usual occurrence throughout the week, often before bed. You’d tell him about your day in the office and he’d tell you about the new recruits he would train. On the weekends, he’d stay over at your place. It was rare that you’d stay at the compound. Steve said he’d preferred your apartment, claiming it was homier than the compound. Plus, you’d actually have some privacy.

For a long time, it had been a good system. You love Steve and did anything to make the relationship work because he’s worth it. Yet, you couldn’t help the lonely nights where you wondered if he felt the same.

Calls were less frequent. Texts were unanswered. Weekend plans were cancelled because Steve would be assigned to missions during those days. You’d understand, of course. He’s out there saving people! You can’t fault him for that, but it doesn’t stop you from missing him.

Now, it had been almost two weeks since you’d last seen him in person. You had texted him throughout the day, but texting wasn’t his favorite thing. Texts were usually reserved for quick check-ins and reminders of I love you’s. He preferred calling and you did too, hearing his voice was much better.

After learning that he had been back from a short mission, you texted him.

You: FaceTime later? ☺️

You were eager to see him, even if it was through a screen. You were just hoping he had the time.

Steve ♡: Sure.

Later that night, you sat on your bed with your laptop, opening up FaceTime. After a few rings, Steve’s face appears on the screen. A smile immediately breaks out on your face.

“Hi babe!” you say cheerily, finally getting to see your boyfriend after what felt like forever.

“Hi honey,” he says with a soft smile.

Your smile dims a bit, eyebrows furrowing when you recognize the background. “Are you still in your office?” It was pretty late and you assumed he’d be in bed by now.

“Yeah, I was finishing up on some mission reports,” he explains, shuffling some papers on his desk.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you’d be done by now,” you apologize, recalling the last time you had interrupted him from his work.

“No, no” he waves his hand, “I thought I’d be done by now too, but it’s a lot more than I expected.”

You frown at the thought of your boyfriend overworking himself. You want to ask him about it, but you know he’ll say what he always does when you ask about his missions: It’s classified.

“You’re not stressing yourself out too much, are you Steve?” you ask, concern evident in your voice. Even through the hazy quality of the webcam, you can see the tired look in his eyes.

“Never,” he says with a smirk.

“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” you say with a teasing tone.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about honey,” he reassures you. “Besides, I wanna know what you’ve been up to.”

You scoff, “well, it’s definitely not nearly exciting as your week must’ve been.”

“I still wanna know,” he says with that boyish grin you love.

Steve always knew how to make those butterflies appear. You end up telling him about the incident you witnessed at the store which makes him laugh as he imagines the odd sight. He tells you about a prank Tony pulled on him and Sam and you beg him to send you the recording of it. He refuses, but you know you’ll get your hands on the footage eventually. Things felt normal again, just talking to him.

“So I was mixing the dough and halfway through I realized I completely forgot about the eggs,” you were in the middle of telling him about the new recipe you ended up ruining earlier this week.

Steve hums in response. You notice him looking to the side, not looking at the screen and you hear the sound of typing.

“and then a blue monster broke into my apartment,” you make up in an attempt to get his attention.

“Mhmm”

“and he stole all the cookies,” you continue.

“Hmm”

“Steve,”

Silence.

“Steve,” you say with a little more force.

“Huh?” he finally looks up at the screen.

“You’re not listening to me,” disappointment laces your voice.

“I was,” he quickly defends but you don’t buy it.

“Uh huh,” you cross your arms and lean back against your headboard. “What was I talking about?”

Steve glances elsewhere, not meeting your eyes when he mumbles “something about a party?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “yeah, like 10 minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry honey, I was listening, really… but these reports need to be done,” he says with an apologetic look on his face.

You couldn’t stay mad at him, but you did feel hurt that he would pretend to listen rather than just telling you something.

“Okay,” you sigh. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

He must notice the disappointment on your face because he apologizes once more.

“I’ll make it up to you honey,” he promises.

“Are you coming this weekend?” you ask hopefully. He couldn’t come last weekend and you were missing him terribly.

“Of course,” he gives you a tired smile that you return.

“Okay, finish those reports and get some sleep,” you instruct, emphasizing the last part.

“Yes ma’am,” he raises his hand, mock saluting you which makes you giggle.

“Goodnight Stevie, I love you,”

“Love you too sweetheart”

The call ends and you go to bed with a smile on your face.

The rest of the week goes by quickly. You’re excited to get to the weekend because that means you can finally see your boyfriend, in person! Not just behind some screen. It’s been almost three weeks since the last time he came over and you miss his touch.

It was Friday afternoon and you were sitting at a small table in the cafe you frequent, taking a lunch break. Halfway through your break, you got a call from Steve. You were a little surprised to see his picture pop up on your phone since you’re usually the one to call him. Nevertheless, you smiled and answered “Hi babe.”

“Hey honey,” he greets.

“I’m glad you called, I was thinking of picking up a few things from the store after work today. Do you need anything?”

“Uh… about that,” he says in a low voice. Your heart immediately sinks, already knowing what he’s going to say next.

“You’re not coming.” A statement, not a question.

“I’m sorry honey. A mission came up and we leave tonight,” he explains and you almost want to laugh. Of course he’s leaving again.

“How long?” you ask. Maybe it’s just for a day and he can still come on Saturday or even Sunday.

“Two days… maybe three,”

You take a moment to process his words. Part of you saw this coming. It seemed too good to be true that you’d finally have him all to yourself. You glance up, trying to fight the sudden feeling of tears in your eyes. You didn’t want to cry in the middle of a busy café.

“There’s… there isn’t a chance you can skip this one?” you hesitantly ask. Normally, you’d just accept it, but your patience was running thin. This is the second time in a row he’s cancelled on you.

“You know I can’t. This is important,” he says it so sternly, like he doesn’t realize he’s breaking your heart. The missions are always important. More important than you.

“Yeah, but you’ve been working nonstop. I mean, don’t you want a break? Aren’t there others who can go instead?” you argue, voice raising.

“Y/N, I’m going. I have to,” he insists, leaving no room for an argument. You knew how stubborn Steve could be, so you knew he wasn’t going to change his mind on this. Rationally, you knew he probably had no choice in the matter but you took a chance anyways.

“Okay,” you relent.

You can hear Steve sigh before saying, “I’ll make it up to you.”

He’s been saying that a lot lately, but you know they’re empty promises.

“Okay.”

“I love you,” he says much softer than his previous tone.

“Love you too,” you say back, but your heart hurts.

Before you met Steve, sleeping alone wasn’t so bad. Some nights you would be on your phone, scrolling through social media till you eventually got sleepy. Other times, you’d lie in bed staring at the ceiling thinking about your day and mentally planning the next. Too often you found yourself overthinking about something you did, something you wish you could change. Or you would be anxious about something coming up, running through different scenarios of how it’d go. For some reason, your mind wouldn’t let you succumb to the sleep that your body desperately needed. But you were used to it.

Then Steve came along and he’d be there to ease your mind. On the nights he would stay over, sleep came much easier. There would still be nights where your mind kept you awake, but Steve would be lying right next to you. You’d be on his chest, his hand soothingly rubbing your back as you told him about that meeting you were nervous about or how you got in trouble by your boss for a simple mistake. Steve would assure that everything would be okay and you found it easy to believe him.

He always knew when you needed a distraction from your worries, bringing up mundane things like last night’s baseball game or telling you about the modern music he actually started to like. Sometimes, he’d tell you a story from his life in the 40s. Stories like how his friend Bucky would drag him all over town, trying to find a date for the evening. Or about that time he had to star in an action movie when he just started out as Captain America (which you made a mental note to find later on Youtube). You loved hearing about Steve’s old life, curious about what made him into the man you love today.

Sometimes he’d just entertain your wild thoughts, especially when you’re half asleep. Conversations like how different life would be if dinosaurs never went extinct or if flat earth conspiracists were right. You’d be lying with your back to his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist while you mumbled any thoughts that came to mind. He’d listen till he heard your soft snores and he’d give you a gentle kiss on your head before he’d fall asleep too.

Then there would be nights where words would rarely be spoken. A night of soft moans as he took care of your body in ways only he knew how. He’d whisper praises, drawing out moans from you as he hit all the right spots. It was always different and exciting. You never knew what to expect, but he would always be so loving. You’d always stay close, basking in the afterglow.  

After having the comfort of Steve in the night, the times he’s not there feel a lot lonelier than before.

Like now, you’ve got your eyes closed but you’re not sleeping. Your thoughts seem louder than ever and they’re all about Steve. It probably doesn’t help that you decided to wear one of his tee shirts to bed, the faint smell of him making you miss him even more. After he cancelled on you (again) this past weekend, you started to wonder if he even wanted to see you at all.

You want to be mad at him, but how can you be? He’s Captain America! He has a responsibility that he can’t ignore, not even for his girlfriend. Lately, you can’t help but be worried at how many missions he’s been going on. To make matters worse, you’re left in the dark about all of it. He says it’s safer if you don’t know. You just have to trust him and trust that he needs to go.  

But what if he doesn’t actually need to? What if he wants to go so he doesn’t have to see you. Okay, that’s extreme, but it’s a possibility? It seems like he doesn’t even want to talk to you at all sometimes. You’re always the one texting and calling. It’s never really him unless it’s to let you down (again). Maybe you’re just being needy. Were you asking for too much? Are you overreacting? Probably. But it’s normal to be upset about not seeing your boyfriend for weeks, right?

You shake your head, trying to get rid of these thoughts. You pick up your phone from the nightstand. The clock reads 3:12am. You unlock your phone and open your messages to see the last few texts Steve sent.

Steve ♡: I’m sorry.

You: just be safe

             —

Steve ♡: I’m back.

You: okay

Your thumb hovers over the call button for a good bit, contemplating if you want to bother him so late at night. Before you can overthink it, you hit the button. You turn to lay on your side with the phone against your ear, anxiously waiting for the ringing to stop.

“Hello,” Steve answers, voice deep and filled with sleep. You feel guilty for waking him up, but at the same time feel relief at the sound of his voice.

“Hi,” you say shyly. Honestly, you weren’t expecting him to actually pick up. You were prepared to just leave a voicemail.

“Is something wrong?” he mumbles.

“No, no. There’s nothing wrong… I just…” you can feel the heat rising in your face, suddenly embarrassed for some reason. “I just miss you,” you say quietly, not even sure if he’s heard you.

You can hear the shuffling of sheets.

“I miss you too sweetheart,” he says and it warms your heart for a moment, “and as much as I wanna talk right now, I have to be up in a couple hours for a mission.”

“Oh,” the small smile you had on your face quickly disappears. You had no idea he was leaving again even though he just got back the day before.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay hon?” he says tiredly.

You feel a lump in your throat forming but you push past it, “yeah… yeah, of course.”

“Love you,”

“Love you too,” you practically whisper.

The phone call ends and the tears start to slide down your face. You didn’t have the energy to fight them anymore.

The last call you had with Steve a few days ago left you torn between logic and your emotions. You knew he was just tired, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between you two. In the past, he never seemed to mind talking to you, even in the odd hours of the morning. You always believed that you guys were so in sync. It seemed like he knew when you needed comfort and would be there to provide it.

You would be able to tell when something was off with Steve and though you would always offer to talk about it, he would brush it off. Thinking back to it, maybe he never really opened up to you for a reason.

You began to question if you are more invested in this relationship than he is. It feels wrong to even think so, considering how sweet and caring he is, especially with you. But everyone has their limits, right? Maybe he’s just gotten tired of you. It’s clear that work is his number one priority right now, maybe he doesn’t have time for a girlfriend anymore. He always makes promises of making it up to you another time, but maybe there will never be another time.

The thought of him leaving completely sends a pang of hurt to your heart.

You: can we talk?

You had sent Steve that text what felt like forever ago, but in reality has only been 20 minutes. You had spent that time repeating in your head what you were going to tell him while you paced back and forth around your living room. You were going to ask for a break. You didn’t want to break up with him completely, no, but you thought that this would be better in the long run. You’re hoping a break will give him the space he needs and then you guys can go back to the way you were. You figured it was better to let him focus on being a hero. You didn’t want to become the clingy girlfriend that he’d eventually resent.

You had no idea how he would react. Maybe he would agree. It’ll be tough, but every couple goes through something like this, right? Sure, it’s a special circumstance with you dating an Avenger, but other people have busy partners. You wonder how they manage a relationship when they don’t see each other so often. Maybe you were giving up too easily? But you’re tired of feeling pushed aside, like you aren’t his priority when he’s at the top of your list. You’re tired of feeling guilty for being upset when he can’t come see you. You’re just tired of feeling like you’re losing him.

Just as you start to doubt your whole plan, your ringtone breaks the silence. You pick up your phone with a shaky hand and tap on the answer button.

“Hello,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice the nervous tone of your voice.

“Hey honey, you wanted to talk?”

“Uh, yeah…” you reply, already struggling to keep your voice even.

“Is everything alright?” he’s concerned and you can imagine the look on his face.

“Yeah…yeah,” you lie, “I uh… I just wanted to talk… about us.”

“Listen honey, I’m sorry about last week but it was really-“ he begins to apologize, but you shake your head, not wanting to hear another excuse.

“It’s more than that Steve,” you interrupt.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” you hesitate, trying to gather your thoughts. “Do you realize it’s almost been a month since we’ve last seen each other?”

There’s a pause before he answers, “…I didn’t know it had been so long.”

“Do you even care?” you ask, voice giving in to the mix of anger and sadness you feel. The tears begin to well up in your eyes.

“Of course I care, you know I do” he defends.

“Do I though?” you question. The rehearsed words you mentally prepared are long gone. “…I’ve been sitting here thinking of what I’m doing wrong because I feel like something’s changed between us.”

“What are you talking about?” he sounds genuinely confused, “Nothing’s changed.”

“Steve… we don’t talk like we used to, I barely get to see you. I miss you all the time.”

“I know I’ve been working a lot lately,“ he acknowledges.

“And I don’t blame you for that,” you clarify.

“I know how important your job is, but… but I’m feeling a little left out here,” your voice cracks at the end. You wipe the few tears that started to fall down your face. “I mean, I feel like I barely know that part of your life. You’re gone most of the time and you never talk to me about it.”

“I can’t, for your safety. We’ve discussed that.”

“Yeah and I thought I could handle it, but you’re giving me nothing here,” you argue. “I wanna be there for you Steve, but it’s hard when you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“I... I can’t. I want to but it’s better if you don’t know,” he says pleadingly. You want to believe him, but you just can’t seem to let this go.

The silence lingers over the phone.

“Maybe we should take a break,” you eventually say with defeat.

“A break?”

“Maybe we just need some time to sort things out. You can focus on your work and when things get better… we can try again.”

“No, no…” he starts to argue, “that’s not fair.”

“Steve, please…” you beg, “just try to see where I’m coming from. I still love you, I always will. I just think we need this.”

He doesn’t say a word, making you anxious.

“Steve-”

You’re cut off by the phone hanging up. You sit in disbelief, letting the weight of the conversation fall on you.

You spent the rest of the night just curled up on the couch. You keep questioning your decision. In your mind, this was the right thing to do, despite the heartbreak you knew you’d be feeling. But you didn’t think it would hurt as much as it does now.

Steve’s reaction made you rethink the idea of a break. You worry that he thinks you don’t love him anymore when it’s the complete opposite. You did this because you love him. You didn’t want to lose him completely, but it looks like you lost him anyways. Maybe, deep down, a part of you was trying to save yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.

The living room was dark, the only light coming from the street lights outside. The tears have stopped flowing, but the headache lingers. It’s almost 2 in the morning and despite being worn out from crying, you have trouble sleeping. You’re about to get up for a glass of water when you hear a knock on your door.

Your first reaction is to panic, because you weren’t expecting anyone at such a late hour. You mentally run through the self defense moves Steve insisted on teaching you. Slowly, you approach the door, trying to not make any noise.

Knock knock knock.

“It’s me.”

It’s softly spoken, but you hear him loud and clear. You quickly open the door to reveal Steve with a look of sorrow on his face. You can’t help but stare at him in shock, taking in his disheveled appearance.

“I don’t want a break,” he says hoarsely, breaking you out of your trace.

You all but pounce toward him and wrap your arms around his neck. He immediately wraps his arms tightly around your waist. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent that reminds you of home. Despite everything that happened over the phone, you feel a flood of relief from finally being in his arms.

You stood in his embrace, relishing the feeling of him being there for a good minute before you pulled away. You meet his eyes, noticing the tears surrounding them and it hurts your heart.

“We should talk,” you say, voice rough from the crying just hours ago.

You’re sitting side by side on your couch. You look at him and can’t believe that he drove all the way to your place in the middle of the night. You can see the worry on his face and you want nothing more than to comfort him, but you hold back because you want an explanation first.

“So..” you start off, “you don’t want a break?”

“Y/N, I know I’ve messed up, but please don’t give up on us,” he says with pleading eyes.

“I don’t want to. I thought that’s what you would’ve wanted. I thought…” you shy away from his stare, “maybe you didn’t want me anymore.”

Steve looks at you with guilt, realizing for the first time how much he’s hurt you, “I’m sorry… I know I’ve been saying that a lot lately but I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t want to be with you.”

“Then what's been going on?” you ask, looking back at him, determined to know why it took you asking for a break to get him here.

Steve looks down at his hands, visibly nervous. Why? You have no idea.

“Talk to me Steve,” you encourage him. “Please.”

He turns to look at you, taking a breath before saying “I’ve been looking for Bucky.”

You’re immediately confused. Out of all the things you thought of him saying, this was never one of them.

“Bucky? Bucky Barnes?” you question. You knew of his friend from the stories he would tell you. Bucky was practically a brother to Steve.

“Yes,” he says easily, but it just makes you more confused. The thought of Steve going crazy briefly crosses your mind.

“He’s the Winter Soldier,” he explains. You recognize that name from the news. He was a part of the incident that happened in DC.

“What? H-How would that even be possible?” you question, not really being able to wrap your head around it. From what you knew, Bucky died in war back in the 40s.

“HYDRA was using him. They found him after he fell from the train and they brainwashed him for decades until I was able to snap him out of it when we fought in DC,” Steve continues, “After he saved my life, he disappeared.”

The pain in his voice is evident as he talks about his friend. You scoot closer to him and you take his hand into yours, offering him comfort.

“Sam and I have been following any lead we could to find him,” he explains, “I’ve been doing that along with all the other missions I get sent on. That’s why I’ve been gone so much.”  

It finally makes sense to you.

“Oh Steve,” you say, “I wish you would’ve told me this sooner.”

“I know honey, I should have…” he squeezes your hand, which you reciprocate.

“HYDRA is evil. I’ve seen how cruel they can be,” he continues. “The thought of them coming anywhere near you kills me,” his voice filled with emotion and his eyes gloss over with tears. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to get out of that headspace…”

He looks away from you, head down, “you shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

You reach over with your free hand to touch his face. “Steve,” you turn his head to look at you. His blue eyes shine even in the dim lighting. “Please don’t shut me out. I want to know these things. You don’t have to tell me everything, but I just want to be there for you. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

Your eyes beg him to understand you. ���And I get it now. Bucky is your friend and I know you’ll find him again someday. Just don’t put all that stress on yourself,” your thumb wipes away a stray tear falling down his face. “I want to help you in any way I can. You can always come back to me.”

He subtly nods and looks at you, faces only a breath apart. “I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly, like he’s in disbelief.

He closes the distance, lips finally meeting yours. Your eyes flutter shut, as you continue to cradle his face in your palms. You focus on conveying all your love for him into the kiss. You pull away briefly to move on to his lap as he leans back into the couch. His hands naturally fall on your hips as you get impossibly close.

You break the kiss again, “Promise not to leave me again,” you plead, but your tone is much lighter this time. You never wanted to leave his arms again.

He looks up at you, eyebrows furrowing a bit, “I can’t promise that,” you give him a sad smile, already knowing that. His hand leaves your hip to push a stray hair behind your ear, “but I can promise that I will talk to you more and show you how much you mean to me more often. ”

You genuinely smile at that.

“This is important to me,” he says, pulling you closer, emphasizing his words, “you’re important to me.”

“I love you”

“I love you too,”

You lean back in to kiss him again, smiling in between because you’re happy to have your Steve back. And you know things will get better from here. There’s still going to be some tough nights when you miss him and he can’t be there, but you know he’ll be missing you just as much. You won’t have to doubt his love for you again.

You pull away once more, “Remember how you said, you’d make it up to me?” you question with a mischievous look in your eye.

“Yeah,” he says looking at you expectantly.

You simply raise your eyebrows and smirk at him. He catches on and mouths an “oh”.

You’re lifted from the couch so you latch onto Steve’s shoulders, giggling loudly at the sudden movement. He carries you into your bedroom, where he definitely made up for lost time.

You slept much easier that night.

hope you enjoyed reading! 🤍 reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!! let me know if you liked it :) 

[thnxforknowingme]

In Orbit (39/40)

Pairing: Klaine

Rating: M

Fic Summary: Blaine starts attending NYU, and he and Kurt weave in and out of each other’s lives - as friends, exes, friends with benefits, and harder-to-define labels - while they navigate college, relationships, and adulthood in New York.

Notes: So, this is a monster of a chapter. It's like twice as long as the second-longest chapter in this fic. But a lot had to happen in it, and I figured y'all deserved to have all of it at once. I hope you enjoy ;)

Read on AO3 | All chapters

June 2016

Summer arrived, and the unending muggy days seemed to open up the world to possibility, the long hours of sunlight allowing for anything to happen.

The first session of the music camp started, so Blaine fell into the routine of his job, spending weekdays organizing supplies and assisting instructors and playing music with the kids. He found that he felt even more at home than he did last year, his experience in a kindergarten classroom over the past semester giving him more confidence and ease leading young students. New employees looked to him for answers, and his superiors and the students were equally pleased by his work.

Kurt had arranged to work from the Stage Left offices a couple days a week, and with his new free time in the absence of school, he was taking on more writing assignments and contributing more to the company’s social media and marketing materials. The office was in midtown, so some mornings their schedules would line up and they’d take the train together for a few stops before Blaine had to transfer to another line. Blaine always enjoyed those mornings, when he and Kurt would move around the apartment in choreographed grace as they got ready, and then sit or stand together on the subway, chatting idly or silently judging other commuters.

Everything with Kurt, really, just seemed to be going well. Blaine wasn’t sure exactly when they’d hit their stride, but it felt like the stilted awkwardness and pain of the past had finally become water under the bridge. Maybe they couldn’t be close in exactly the same way that they had once been, but it seemed like they had reached some form of balance. He loved talking about the mundane details of their days, sharing space as they worked independently, watching TV together with a big bowl of popcorn when they had a free evening. Kurt even seemed to have become more comfortable touching Blaine again - picking lint off of his shirt, shoving him playfully when he was teasing, letting their legs brush when they sat on the couch together. Kurt once again felt like Blaine’s best friend - the first person he wanted to talk to about anything interesting in his life, the one who could always make him laugh, the person who could best listen to him when he wanted to vent. He was grateful to have his friend and roommate back, to have stability in this relationship that felt like such a key part of his life.

Blaine was washing dishes one evening, headphones in, when Kurt walked over to the kitchen and just sort of - hovered, over Blaine’s shoulder.

Blaine finished cleaning the plate he was holding and dried one hand so he could pull out an earbud. “Yes?”

Kurt smiled at him. “I have a question for you.”

“Go ahead,” Blaine replied, amused.

Kurt laced his fingers together. “Are you free Saturday night?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Do you want to get dinner?”

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure.” It wasn’t a strange request, as they ate together pretty frequently. Usually it was more spur-of-the-moment, though - one of them would come home and announce they were far too exhausted to cook dinner, they should go get Thai food, or they’d be low on groceries and decide to order pizza, or they’d simply have a craving for dumplings. Still, Blaine was happy to agree ahead of time.

“Great,” Kurt said. “How about 7:30? Maybe we can grab a drink afterwards.”

Blaine nodded, idly folding the dish towel in his hands. “Sounds good.”

Kurt’s eyes flicked critically over Blaine’s body, observing the old exercise shorts and hoodie he was wearing to do chores. “It’s - this restaurant I want to go to, it’s kind of nice. Not that you don’t usually dress smartly but, you know, just a head’s up.”

Blaine smirked. “I think I can manage that.”

“Perfect,” Kurt said, turning gracefully on his heel. As he walked back to his room, there seemed to be - a lightness to him, a fluttering skip to his step. Blaine watched Kurt disappear behind the curtain, and tilted his head thoughtfully before returning to the dishes.

They took the subway to Williamsburg on Saturday, their shoulders jostling against each other with the turns of the train, and then walked a few blocks to a tapas restaurant with a sleek exterior. They stepped into the small entry area, plush carpet and minimalist decor in dark colors, and Kurt said to the hostess, “Hi, Kurt Hummel, for two?”

She greeted him with a smile, while Blaine tried to school his expression of surprise. He hadn’t expected Kurt to take him somewhere this fancy, let alone make a reservation.

They were led to a small round table, where they settled into tasteful wooden seats and were handed menus to peruse.

Blaine had just let his eyes glance over the artful text on the page when he saw the prices.

“Kurt?” he said, letting his menu fall flat onto the table.

“Don’t worry,” Kurt replied, clearly anticipating Blaine’s comment. “It’s my treat.”

“Kurt,” Blaine repeated.

“Blaine,” Kurt looked at him over the menu, his expression calm. “I wanted to go here. I invited you. I knew it was nice. We wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t afford dinner. Now, please, tell me what you think looks good.”

Blaine stared at him for a moment longer before reluctantly picking up the menu again.

“You went to Spain last year, right?” Kurt asked. “Did you try anything on here?”

“I was only in Barcelona for two days,” Blaine replied, finally reading over the dishes. “But - oh, yeah, we did have croquetas, those were really good.”

When the server came back, Kurt ordered a glass of wine for himself, then looked expectantly at Blaine. He examined Kurt’s face for a moment, then said he’d have the same.

He watched Kurt, poised and smiling, pick up his wine when it arrived, fingers curling gracefully around the glass. He held it halfway across the table, so Blaine mirrored him to clink their glasses together.

“Are we toasting anything in particular?” Blaine asked carefully.

Kurt shrugged, lips upturned. “To a bright future.”

Blaine slowly sipped his drink, the wine bitter and cloying on his tongue, and wondered what game they were playing at.

Shortly after their food arrived, Kurt pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, glanced at the screen, and sighed.

“Rachel’s Funny Girl audition is on Monday,” he said, holding down the power button on his phone and then slipping it away. “She’s been texting me about every tiny detail.”

“Is she nervous?” Blaine asked, spearing a piece of jamon with a fork.

“I don’t know about nervous,” Kurt replied. “Manic, maybe. Obsessive. But she’s got the confidence.”

“Do you think she could get it?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt said, arranging the food on his plate. “I’m not a Broadway casting director. I don’t know that they’ll think she has the experience to have a lead role, but...if they take a chance on her, I think she has the talent and drive to pull it off.”

Blaine watched Kurt take a couple bites of various dishes. It may have been expensive, but Blaine had to admit that everything they’d ordered tasted incredible. “You’re really good at supporting her,” Blaine said. “Even when she’s a lot. Is it ever...do you get annoyed?”

“Of course I get annoyed, she’s Rachel Berry,” Kurt replied with a laugh. He took his napkin from his lap to press to his lips for a second. “I am jealous of her, sometimes. But that doesn’t mean I’m not still happy for her. She deserves it.” His eyes flickered up to meet Blaine’s. “It’s sort of like you.”

Blaine raised his chin, surprised. “What do you mean?”

Kurt smiled, but took a moment before answering. “Just, back in high school, you know - you were also a star. You were really talented, and you deserved all the praise and recognition you got, but you did get a lot of it. So I was a little jealous, sometimes, even while also being happy for you and proud of you. I didn’t resent you for having so much talent - it should be put to good use, right?”

“Hmm,” Blaine managed, looking down at his plate. “I guess so.”

The restaurant hummed around them, the sound of low conversation and silverware clinking and the creak of servers’ footsteps. “...Blaine?” Kurt asked, hesitant. “Did I - what is it?”

Blaine took a deep breath, then sipped his wine, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. “I’ve been thinking, lately,” he said. Thinking, thinking, thinking, his thoughts a dangerous whirlpool that kept pulling him in. He was usually so much better at doing than thinking. “There’s this masters program, at one of the other colleges at NYU, that I might apply to. It’s, um. It’s a music education program.”

“Music education?” Kurt spoke like he was trying the words out. “Like teaching?”

“Yeah,” Blaine said, adjusting his fork. “It involves, uh - getting a credential.”

Kurt was silent for a moment, and Blaine felt anxiety buzzing in his chest cavity. He finally glanced up. Kurt was looking at him, but his face was open, curious, not judgmental. “Are you excited about it?” Kurt asked.

“Um, I…” Blaine didn’t know how to answer. He’d been thinking mostly of the past, of what he was giving up - of the dream he once wanted so fiercely, the feeling of being on stage, the person he thought for so long he’d grow up to be.

Kurt set down his fork and reached across the table, covering Blaine’s hand with his own. “Blaine,” he said, his gaze strong and his voice clear, “because of who you are, I’m positive that whatever you choose to do, you’ll be amazing at it. You’re gonna be talented no matter how you use that talent. But talent shouldn’t be an obligation to any one type of life. So if this is the way that you want to use it, the thing that will make you most happy, then - you’re going to be so good at it. And I’m so proud of you for having the courage to make that decision about your future.”

Blaine blinked, trying not to cry in the middle of this fancy restaurant. He pursed his lips together in a grateful smile. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Kurt squeezed his hand, and then let go, sitting back. He waited a moment as Blaine gained composure, dabbing at the corners of his eyes with his napkin and taking deep breaths. When he was calm enough to look at Kurt again, Kurt grinned.

“What?” Blaine asked.

Kurt picked up his wine glass and held it up. “To a bright future.”

Blaine laughed, and lifted his own drink to toast a second time. He was in an elegant restaurant eating delicious food, sitting across from his best friend in the world, and the future looked okay. He finally felt like maybe he hadn’t lost his path - maybe he was just finding the right one.

“To a bright future,” he repeated, tapping their glasses together, and the wine tasted sweeter this time.

As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Kurt asked, “Would you like to go somewhere for drinks?”

“Sure,” Blaine replied, tugging on the hem of his jacket to straighten it out. “That sounds great.”

Kurt smiled, his face alight in the dusk air. “I have a place in mind.”

They walked comfortably close for several blocks, their sleeves sometimes brushing against each other, moving in-sync as they navigated scaffolding and avoided shallow puddles formed by drips of air conditioning condensation. They stopped at an unassuming storefront with a weathered awning. The door was open, music drifting out into the warm summer night, and a large woman was sitting on a stool just inside to check their IDs. Blaine pulled out cash for the cover charge and insisted, “I’m paying for our drinks, too, after you got dinner.”

They stepped down a narrow staircase beyond the door, ducking under a low ceiling before the bar opened in front of them. The dim light reflected off of polished wooden floors, people sitting and drinking and talking at small tables around the room. The brick walls were decorated with framed photographs, paintings, and old vinyl covers. At the far end of the room was a simple stage, crowded with a six-piece band playing an upbeat swing song.

Blaine leaned into Kurt as they took in the room, his chin grazing against the shoulder of Kurt’s jacket, and asked, “what do you want to drink?”

Kurt turned his head slightly to meet Blaine’s eyes, their faces an inch apart. “This seems like the kind of place,” Kurt answered, just loud enough to be heard, “where I should have a martini.”

Blaine grinned. “One martini, coming up,” he said. “Grab a table.”

Blaine headed for the simple bar against one side of the room, and tapped his foot to the beat of the music as he waited for the bartender to make their drinks. He’d ordered an old fashioned, which he’d never had before, but he was pretty certain he knew what was in it. While this bar was in no way pretentious, it still felt like a huge step up from the college haunts where he’d done most of his legal drinking, the sort of places that had three-dollar beer nights and wouldn’t make cocktails with more than two ingredients.

He found Kurt at a table close to the stage, and he set his martini glass in front of him. When Kurt turned and smiled up at Blaine, something twisted in his chest. God, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Kurt a million times, but he could still take Blaine’s breath away.

They sipped their drinks, leaning in close to pass idle conversation, clapping enthusiastically every time the band finished a song. There were several couples in the empty space in front of the stage, displaying varying levels of skill in dancing along to the swing and jazz music. As the band started up a new song, Kurt pressed his hand to Blaine’s shoulder and said, “Look, Blaine, there -”

Following the jerk of Kurt’s chin, Blaine looked at the dancers, and saw that one of the couples that had joined in was a pair of middle-aged men. They held each other close, shoulder-to-shoulder, hand-in-hand, then separated so the taller man could twirl the other under his arm.

Some warm feeling flooded through Blaine’s body. He’d lived in New York for nearly three years now - it wasn’t as though seeing openly queer people in public was an entirely novel or unusual occurrence. But there were times like this, when he was struck with this profound feeling of hope and gratitude, seeing a potential happy future for himself. He’d been through so much, been beaten down and fought so hard to be able to be himself - knowing that there existed a light at the end of that tunnel in some sense, that other people like him had found peace and fulfillment, was reassuring in a way he couldn’t put into words.

Kurt’s hand fell away from Blaine’s jacket, and Blaine could hear movement beside him. When he tore his eyes away from the dancing men to look in Kurt’s direction, he saw that Kurt had stood up, and was now holding his arm out in Blaine’s direction. “May I have this dance?” he asked, his smile half-wry, half-nervous.

Blaine observed him for a moment. He thought of all the steps that had led them to being here, now - the upscale dinner on Kurt’s dime, drinks and live music and dancing, both of them dressed up. When they left the apartment this evening, he didn’t expect to be going on a date, but now it was hard to come up with an alternative description for it. He didn’t know what it meant, in the grand scheme of their relationship.

But he stood and took Kurt’s offered hand, because he was willing to find out.

Kurt led them to the dance floor, and pulled Blaine into his arms with comfortable ease. The band was playing something relatively upbeat, and Blaine happily let Kurt lead them in swing steps. He couldn’t help the joy bubbling up in him, the way the rhythm buzzed through this limbs as Kurt pulled and twirled and caught him. The horns blared, the percussion sizzled, the keys harmonized. Blaine stumbled over his steps a few times, trying to keep up with Kurt. “This isn’t fair,” he laughed as he came crashing back against Kurt’s chest. “I haven’t had a dance class since high school.”

“You need to practice more,” Kurt said, winding an arm around Blaine’s waist to keep him close as they swayed to the beat. “I can tutor you and catch you up.”

“I do miss this,” Blaine admitted, their faces so close that he could keep his voice low, even this near to the band. “We should go out dancing more often.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Kurt agreed.

They continued on for several songs, their smiles and laughter coming more easily as they danced together longer. It was getting to the point where Blaine was out of breath and about to ask for a break when the band transitioned to a slower song - something both mournful and romantic, the notes tugging at his heartstrings as Kurt pulled him in tight.

It was so easy to wrap his arms around Kurt, and to be embraced back, to press his face so close that he could smell Kurt’s aftershave and hairspray and sweat.

It felt like such a privilege to be back here again, his body fitting against Kurt’s like it was made to, so familiar and yet somehow new at the same time.

Blaine felt himself, for the second time of the evening, growing close to tears.

He blinked, took a deep breath, and looked directly at Kurt. Even in the dim light, Blaine could tell Kurt’s face was flushed from exertion, and a single strand of hair had fallen out of place to curl over his forehead.

“Kurt,” he breathed out. “I’m having fun, but…”

“But?” Kurt asked, eyebrows raising.

Blaine let them rock back and forth for a few beats, savoring the moment before he forged ahead. “But what does this mean? Tonight?”

They were close enough that he could feel Kurt’s chest expand as he breathed in. “It doesn’t have to mean anything more than a fun night out between friends, if that’s what you want,” Kurt said carefully.

Blaine stared into his eyes. “And what’s the alternative?”

Kurt bit his lip, and when he spoke again, his voice was low but clear. “I’ve realized that - I want to be with you, again. Not halfway, like before, not undefined or secret. I miss you, Blaine, and I love you, and I want you back if you’ll have me.”

“Kurt…” Blaine said, but it was hard to get words out with his heart in his throat. Even with his growing suspicion throughout the evening, he didn’t truly believe that this would be the result. He’d worked for months to accept reality and move on, to not wish for this moment - but here it was, in front of him. His head was a chaotic mess, and he didn’t know how to respond. “Wow,” he managed.

Kurt shrugged, helpless. “I know.”

Blaine realized suddenly that they’d stopped swaying to the beat of the music. They were just standing, wrapped in each other’s arms, at the edge of the dance floor.

He couldn’t pretend that he didn’t want this, with every atom in his body. Kurt’s close embrace and romantic confession tore down all the walls that Blaine had carefully built around his feelings for Kurt. His best friend, the love of his life, his soulmate. Being with Kurt again - it felt like a miracle to have it within his reach.

But he had put up those walls, meticulously blocking his longing and desire, for a reason. Things had gone bad between them so many times before.

“You - “ Blaine cleared his throat. “You’re really sure about this?”

Kurt nodded, slow and certain. “I am.” He brought his hand from Blaine’s shoulder to smooth down the lapel of Blaine’s jacket. Blaine was pretty certain that it hadn’t been out of place, but he let Kurt take the moment to center himself before he continued speaking. “I’ve felt this way for a while now,” Kurt said, “but I - I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I wanted to wait to say anything until I really knew that I meant it.” He glanced up to meet Blaine’s eyes again. “I know we can’t change the past, but - I’m ready to heal from it, to move on. I know we’re different now, we’ve both grown up. I realized that trust is a choice, and I’m ready to trust you again. I wouldn’t be saying this now if I wasn’t sure, Blaine. I am. I’m all in.”

There were moments in Blaine’s life that sometimes felt surreal, as if there was no way he could actually be experiencing them. Events that he never could have expected, or things that seemed too good for him to deserve.

But this moment - the sweet sting of whiskey still on his tongue, the gentle rhythm of the music surrounding him, the warmth of Kurt’s body against his - this was real. Kurt’s face, bright-eyed with affection and frozen in anticipation, was real. This was Blaine’s life, and he’d lived every moment so far to arrive here.

“Me too,” he told Kurt.

Kurt exhaled, a relieved half-laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Blaine said, and then, unable to hold back any longer, he reached up to cup Kurt’s jaw and pulled him into a kiss.

Their lips fit together perfectly, sending a spark through Blaine's body that was familiar and thrilling all at once.

The first time Blaine had ever kissed Kurt, a nervous sixteen-year-old full of emotions he didn't know how to handle, it had felt like a leap of faith. This kiss didn't feel like a precipice - it felt like solid ground. Kurt kissed him back, and it was like a prophesy being fulfilled, a question being answered, a puzzle piece finally slotting into place.

They broke apart, breathless, and Kurt rested his forehead against Blaine’s. Behind him, the band started a new song, something more upbeat, but they didn’t move.

“Do you want to go home?” Kurt asked, and Blaine could feel the words against his skin.

I think I already have, he thought. “Yes,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

They took a cab, not wanting to rely on the MTA’s schedule, and didn’t stop touching the whole ride - fingers entwined, knees brushing, Kurt lifting their hands to press a kiss to Blaine’s knuckles. The air buzzed with promise, with anticipation, and Blaine nearly dropped his credit card as he fumbled to pay for the ride.

As soon as Kurt shut the door to their apartment, Blaine pressed him up against it to kiss him again, his hands firm on either side of Kurt’s waist. “God,” Blaine said as he pulled away to kiss down Kurt’s jaw and neck, to feel the soft skin there that he loved and missed so much, “it’s so convenient to live alone with my boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” Kurt replied, his voice breathy but also - careful. “Blaine, you know it’s - obviously we have history, and we do live together but - ah,” he gasped as Blaine sucked lightly at the hollow of his throat, and Blaine could feel the movement of Kurt’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “But we can take things slow, if you want,” Kurt managed to finish.

Blaine took his lips off of Kurt’s skin to meet his gaze. He grinned, and asked, “so you’re saying you didn’t spend the whole drive here thinking about undressing me?”

There was already a flush blooming on Kurt’s face and neck, and Blaine wondered just how far beneath his collar it had spread. Kurt cleared his throat. “It doesn’t matter what I was thinking,” he said. “I’m just saying - we don’t have to rush into doing anything. I know I’ve sprung a lot on you tonight.”

Blaine would have assumed that his heart couldn’t feel any more full than it already did, but here Kurt was, proving him wrong. He leaned in to press a simple, heartfelt kiss to Kurt’s lips. “I love how considerate you’re being,” Blaine told him, “and I’d love to have a mature conversation about all of this tomorrow. But for now…if you’re into it -” he shifted so that his thigh pressed against the front of Kurt’s pants, feeling his arousal and eliciting a sharp inhale, “ - which I’m pretty sure you are, I’d love to do very naughty things with you to celebrate our reunion.”

Kurt smiled, languid and knowing. He ran his hands up each of Blaine’s arms and gripped his shoulders. “Okay,” he whispered. “Your bed or mine?”

Blaine’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Yours,” he said. “I’ve missed it.”

Fumbling fingers, unsteady steps, hands and mouths exploring revealed skin. The bounce of Kurt’s mattress, quilt pushed aside, soft sheets giving under Blaine’s bare knees as he held himself above Kurt. The lamp cast warm light over their bodies as Blaine kissed his way down Kurt’s chest, feeling Kurt’s heart beating and lungs expanding beneath him. He sought out well-remembered freckles and blemishes, rememorizing the feel of every plane and curve of Kurt’s body. Kurt spread his legs so that Blaine could settle between them. Blaine sucked at the dip in Kurt’s skin next to his hipbone and finally wrapped his hand around Kurt’s cock, lazily stroking it a few times and enjoying the breathy sounds of pleasure that Kurt let out in response. He admired the long expanse of Kurt’s naked body, laid out for him like a sacred offering. Everything about him looked delicious.

Blaine stilled his hand, lifted his head to look up at Kurt’s face. “Do you have condoms in here?”

“Oh,” Kurt said, raising himself slightly on his elbows. “Yeah, in the dresser. But it’s - I’m as safe as I was last fall, if you don’t want to use one.”

“Okay,” Blaine said slowly. “You haven’t - “

“No,” Kurt cut him off firmly. “No one else.”

Blaine nodded. “Me either.”

Kurt’s brows were furrowed, his expression of bliss from a moment ago replaced with something more serious. “Blaine,” he said, and his voice was strained, emotional. “I’m sorry, I’m just so sorry for everything, I didn’t mean to and - “

“Hey, hey,” Blaine said, crawling back up to him. “Shhh, it’s okay,” he soothed, cupping Kurt’s face. He brushed his thumb against the corner of Kurt’s eye, catching an unshed tear.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Kurt whispered. “But I did, and I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Blaine told him gently. “I’m sorry too, for a lot of things. But - it’s okay. I forgive you.”

“You, too,” Kurt insisted. He reached up to press his hand against Blaine’s bare chest, palm directly over his heart. “I forgive you, too.”

Warmth spread into his breastbone through Kurt’s skin, and his throat felt tight. Blaine hadn’t realized just how much he still needed to hear that until Kurt spoke the words aloud. His past mistakes weren’t just being overlooked or ignored - Kurt was accepting them, and choosing to love him again anyway. If Kurt could trust him and value him, flaws and fuck-ups and all, maybe he could forgive himself, too.

He knew that they still had things to discuss, that they needed to communicate about their relationship if this was going to work out in the long term. But for the first time since they were teenagers, that felt like a real possibility.

Blaine slid his arms around Kurt’s shoulders, pulling Kurt tight against him. “It’s okay,” he breathed. “I love you, and we’re going to be okay.”

“I love you too,” Kurt answered, the words warm against Blaine’s ear.

Blaine waited for Kurt’s breathing to even out, then pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck. He pulled back to see Kurt’s face again and asked, “is it okay if I blow you now?”

Kurt laughed. “I didn’t kill the mood?”

Blaine leaned in to kiss Kurt before saying, “you are so hot, it’s gonna take more than a few tears to kill the mood.”

Kurt reached up to trace Blaine’s brow bone with a finger, then trail down to grip his jaw, his thumbnail digging in to Blaine’s lower lip. “You can do whatever you like to me.”

“God,” Blaine groaned, arousal beating through his veins, and he shifted down the bed to oblige.

[plant-flwrs]

ruined parties // older brother draco (implied fred weasley)

masterlist!

a/n: i didn't know how to label this without it looking like an incest fic and I just want everyone to know it is most definitely not an incest fic and I don't know how to make it look better why is this my life

i just saw this in my inbox unreasonably late and I loved it sm so I wrote this little overprotective big brother draco fic :) I wanted to thank @gaycatlord-stuff for the message and the meme because I loved it sm and it rly got the juices in my sahara desert brain flowing.

summary: Draco is a relentlessly overprotective brother who ruins all romantic opportunities for you.

(2k)

-----

Sometimes, you wondered how different your life would be as a muggle. You wondered if your wealthy parents would have shoved you off to a nanny rather than house-elves; if you would have gone to a muggle boarding school and studied classic literature for an actual class and not just for fun, which Draco loved to remind you was one of the weirder things about you; if you would have learned to do laundry and wash the dishes and comb your hair without the brush levitating with a flick of your wand.

You wondered, most of all, how Draco would manage to beat up all the boys who showed interest in you as you grew up.

Draco went through his phases of the ways in which he would 'protect' you. He had really enjoyed the bat-bogey hex for a while in your first year. In second year and most of third year, he went with the safe option of the jelly-legs jinx. By fourth year he had matured to more advanced methods of transfiguration. He had managed to turn Michael Corner into a raccoon for at least a whole day when Michael had offered to carry your bag for you in the hall.

Fifth year was bad. He had been taken in by Snape, who offered him a number of tips and tricks in the world of dark magic. You insisted Draco didn't need dark magic, and he insisted that you mind your own business.

Draco was irritable and nearly unbearable by sixth year. He hovered over you like a vulture, sending glares to anyone who even looked at you. Your friends started calling him Bloody Mary because he was always haunting over your shoulder. You knew it was because your parents were putting a lot of pressure on him and his crush on Harry Potter was becoming inhumanely large, but still. It was annoying.

It was even more annoying when Draco seemed to have met a suitable match in Fred Weasley.

You had a bit of a liking for muggle things. The school year was your only chance to inhabit this hobby, with your father removing all your muggle posters from your room the second you left for the train. You took Muggle Studies and begged Dumbledore not to tell your parents. You had mostly muggle-born or half-blood friends, which you also told your parents nothing about. Draco found this all the more reason to 'protect' you.

"You ought to dye your hair," you gritted out, sulking over your breakfast and resisting the urge to kick Draco's shin under the table.

Draco didn't respond, shoveling beans into his mouth with an unamused look.

"Seriously," you continued. "Your hair doesn't match your energy. Black would be very striking. You and your boyfriend would be matching."

Draco kicked your shin under the table, making you regret not taking your chance earlier. Harry was a sore spot for Draco, but Draco had just done a wandless spell on Ernest Macmillan before he could ask you to Hogsmeade, and he deserved it.

"What are you reading?" He grunted, offering an unspoken truce he knew you would take.

You shielded the cover, "Killing your brother 101. Enlightening."

"How far into it are you?"

"Almost done. I'd prepare yourself if I were you."

Draco hummed, unfazed by your murderous threats.

"You finish the notes for Charms?" you shut your book, stealing a piece of cantaloupe from Draco's plate.

"Yes," Draco looked at you eating the stolen fruit unapprovingly, pulling some sort of older brother superiority with just one look at you. Infuriating.

"What's the time?" You abandoned the Charms notes, no longer willing to admit you didn't do them.

"Just past 7," Draco pushed his plate away from him, standing and straightening his tie.

"See you at dinner," you began putting your things away and Draco mumbled a goodbye, setting off for his own classes. You were just shoveling the last of the beans he left on his plate into your mouth when a foreign group of bodies were across from you in your peripheral.

You lifted your head, hunched over the beans and still chewing, to see Fred, George, and Lee.

You squinted, chewing slowly and leaning back as to avoid any sort of tripwire for a prank.

"Malfoy," Fred said pleasantly, which was not how people usually said your last name.

"Big brother leave you by your lonesome?" Lee added, also not taking the cruel tone most would when talking about your brother.

This was odd.

"What do you want?" you swallowed your food, eyeing them suspiciously.

"I thought she was meant to be the better of them," George stage-whispered to Lee.

"We are here to formally invite you to a party we are hosting," Fred continued, unperturbed.

Lee and George watched you, waiting for your reaction.

"Alright," you agreed and stood, joining your friends in the hall to walk to class.

"That was easier than I expected," Lee said cheerfully, visibly relieved now that he was not in your presence.

"I told you," Fred puffed his chest out confidently and place his hands on the table as he stood, "Without Draco around, she's perfect."

-

The party was in full swing and Draco was drunk. With one guess, you would have to assume it had something to do with the way Harry kept offering to top off his glass, his hand hovering on the small of Draco's back as they talked into each other's ears.

Drunk Draco was a luxury you were not often afforded. Drunk Draco meant living a life of your own, doing things without his watchful eye.

So you also got drunk. Your friends used the term 'waisted' the next morning, but we will say 'drunk' for maturity purposes. And drunk you got!

Fred was always suspiciously close to you, and suspiciously nice once you thought harder on it. You tried not to leave any drink unguarded while he hovered and stayed with friends as often as possible.

You eventually found yourself on a large leather couch in the center of the room. Ron was next to you, stoned out of his mind, and digging around in the pocket of his flannel for more rolling papers. On the other side of you, Luna's head rolled around her neck, falling onto your shoulder and the couch and finally landing on Ginny's lap when she passed out. You watched Ginny stroke her hair, occasionally tracing a line down her nose. Sighing, you accepted the blunt when Ron finally passed it your way.

You were passing it back, sufficiently stoned out of your gourd, when it was plucked from your hands. You thought you had dropped it, jolting back and looking around frantically until you saw those awful, bony, white fingers dangling the now soggy blunt in front of your face.

"C'mon!" Ron groaned, face twisting through the stages of grief as he saw his ruined creation.

"Pot?" Draco said as if he were 40 and with a mortgage.

"Pot," you replied as if you were 17 and at a party.

One of you had an accurate hold on reality. The other held a soggy blunt.

Ron took the soggy blunt and attempted to salvage it, sinking down to his knees to work on the coffee table in front of you. Draco took his seat and set his drink on the table to his side. He didn't drink from it, presumably because of a blunt that had been swimming in it for a moment.

"I thought you were with Harry," you said slowly, torn between wanting to hurt Draco if something had gone badly with Harry and actually wanting to know why he wasn't still with him.

"Yeah, he went up to bed," Draco answered, not sounding pitiful and mournful like he had a habit of sounding after interacting with Harry.

"He didn't take you with him?" you slurred, leaning into Draco's strong and seemingly sober shoulder.

"Shut up," he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your side and hauling you off the couch. You reached into his pocket, finding some loose bills you knew would be there, and slipped them to Ron as compensation before you left.

You felt accomplished, drunk and high, leaving a party after a fun time. It was also a highlight to have given Ron Weasley Draco's drug money.

-

As per usual, you didn't have a date for Hogsmeade. Your friends were all in Madam Puddifoot's with their dates, gazing over the table at each other like lovesick puppies. Draco currently had you in a headlock while he rubbed his knuckles into the top of your head.

You shoved your heal into his foot, making him release you.

You both returned to your drinks with slightly labored breaths and scowls.

Draco was upset because Harry wasn't at Hogsmeade and you were upset because you were in Hogsmeade with Draco. You would have fallen at his knees and begged him to release you from the chains of this sibling dynamic if he weren't the one buying lunch today.

You ate, still scowling, and walked around scowling, and returned to Hogwarts scowling. You hugged each other, scowling, before bed and went to your respective dorms.

-

It was hot and there was no wind. Really, absolutely no wind. The water on the black lake was eerily reflective and the trees were unmoving.

You were walking with some friends, charmed fans moving around you as they blew cold air in your faces. You were returning from Hogsmeade with ice cream, very happy from the outing without Draco.

Regretfully, Draco did not seem to be as happy.

Stepping into the courtyard, you felt a drop of your ice cream land on your hand, sticky and cold and messy, and at the same time, you saw Draco hurl himself at Fred Weasley.

Fred sprawled across the courtyard, landing on some poorly transfigured pillows that you guessed were the product of George's wandless magic. His head was cushioned from what would have been a nasty hit on the stone. He squirmed under Draco, long arms and legs flailing against the steady weight Draco was putting on him.

You watched Lee and George leaning against a wall, presumably letting Fred fight this battle on his own.

You decided to do something similar.

You watched as Fred wrangled himself free, both boys tripping over the pillows until George vanished them. In the free space, they circled each other with their hands raised. It was funny to see two pure-blood wizards fighting so viciously without a hint of magic.

Draco took a step forward with his left foot, tricking Fred out to lunge at him from the right. He had Fred's leg and then Fred was on the ground again, grunting in pain. Draco flipped him and pinned him, knee resting on Fred's back and hands holding his arms together. Deciding Draco had enough fun, you walked over.

"Fight Club?" you offered, quirking an eyebrow.

"Did you go to Hogsmeade?" Draco ignored you, panting slightly. Up close you saw he had a nasty bruise on his cheekbone and some blood coming from his nose. Fred must have gotten a few hits in.

"Yeah," you licked your ice cream, "bloody scorching out."

"Hm," Draco hummed, adjusting his grip on Fred's arm and causing Fred to yelp in pain.

"How are you?" you asked politely.

"Alright. You?"

"Alright."

Draco nodded.

"So, what's this about?"

"He said he was going to prank you," Draco said, shrugging and adjusting Fred's arm again on purpose.

You gasped in faux shock, crouching down to look at Fred.

"A prank?" you asked him, smirking.

"No!" Fred yelped when he tried to move his arms.

You looked to Draco, whose eyebrows were furrowed. "I heard you! You said you were going to take her out!"

"Draco."

"Draco!" Fred yelped, finally getting his arms loose and crawling from underneath Draco's grasp.

"Oh my fucking god."

"Merlin," Fred mumbled, looking at your face and then Draco's guilty expression.

"Oh," Draco said simply, head tilting as he added up the moment's events in his head.

"Oh my fucking god," you repeated.

Draco got his feet under him.

"Oh my fucking god!" you hurled your ice cream cone at his back, hitting him hard as he ran. You chased him, narrowly avoiding the trail of melted strawberry ice cream he was leaving through the halls.

[spenciegoob]

Petrichor (Blurb)

A/N: hi hi hi! I wrote this instead of PWYC pt. 5 and i’m sorry, but enjoy!

Summary: Reader loved the rain, but Spencer loved them a little bit more.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff

Content Warnings: none! it’s just good feeling, happy fluff

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.2K

____

One day they described the rain to me, how it felt to watch it dance on top of cars from their old apartment. How at ease their mind would feel when their French windows were wide open on a stormy night, watching the lightning ridicule the world for taking advantage of it’s tears.

“You’re drenched, and you’re going to get sick. How can you sit in the pouring rain?” I asked when I found them perched delicately on the windowsill, half their body already dripping.

“The rain is beautiful. Look!” Their excitement was endearing enough that there was no argument for me to stick my head out the window to look at the gray world around us.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just like to appreciate the underlying beauty of a storm before basking in the sunlight.”

I remember hoping they would speak about me with that same curiosity one day.

I don’t believe a purer love existed. I was completely infatuated with them, and for reasons beyond my control, they felt equally about me. It was obvious from the first time our eyes met. I watched, I couldn’t help it. They were mesmerizing, their eyes looking up at me with such innocence through bright, unadulteratedly joyous eyes. 

They saw beauty within me in things I thought impossible. When I or anyone else would hide in dismay at the summer storm raging in my chest, they gazed through those French windows, fascinated at how the light could paint my eyes so dramatically.

And even after all this time, the years bringing less and less surprises as they went, the love we felt for one another was still beautifully unexplainable. Perhaps it is shown through the way my hand always searched out for theirs in grocery stores because losing them even for a second frightened me to the core. Maybe it was the way they stared at me through those unfathomable eyes as if I was the only man that would truly ever know them.

Either way, we fit one another to the bone, a love so pure and fragile I would spend an eternity looking for them if they hadn’t stepped into my life. For all the darkness and cruelty I see, one look at them and the world melted down to an innocent and kind place.

So I knew tomorrow when I stood at the altar, waiting for them to enter both the room and a new step in our lives together, I held no doubt. I was going to spend the rest of my time on Earth in their arms.

I sat at the kitchen table, holding a pen with enough force to be suffocating, and stared at the blank page in front of me. For all the times that I’ve let scientific facts and statistics flow off my tongue without a care, I could not find the words that held enough weight to convey my love for them.

“Hey Spence?” They called for me from the doorway of our bedroom. I looked up to find them in a t-shirt of mine with a cheesy chemistry joke printed on it. Since the day I explained the punchline to them, they wear it every chance they get. Little, fuzzy sock clad feet slid across the floor over to me where I was stuck admiring.

“You coming to bed soon? Your side is getting cold,” they whispered the last part with the lips grazing the top of my head, resting their hands on my shoulders. Immediately the tension left my body, and I turn, the words flooded my brain.

“Uh, y-yeah. In a second. I just need to finish something.” I felt their smile before I looked up to see it, and God was it breathtaking.

“Okay, my love.” Even though my hand itched to start scribbling my undying love, I watched their descend back to our bed, turning around once more to smile at me over their shoulder. Once they were completely out of my sight, I snapped back to my unfinished vows.

‘The day I met you, I was fully consumed by my undeniable fascination and the need to know who you were, You’re unlike anyone I have ever known. You’re this curious, ever-seeking, ever-feeling person who believed the world was good. You loved me before you ever judged me, a kindness not many people possess. Your ultimate adoration for just being alive immersed itself around me and for every moment I’ve been with you, the world has slowly started to become brighter. You give me purpose, like lighting a lost flame I thought to dismiss years ago.

And in 40 years, I have no doubt I’ll be sitting on our porch, surrounded by a white picket fence and a domesticity I can only find with you. I’ll just watch our memories relive and unfold, but the best of all is that you’ll be there next to me, and I can’t imagine not looking at you with the same amount of love as I feel right now. I am unconditionally infatuated with you now, and forever.

Because it’s always been you, and it will always be you. God, I love you.’

During the night after we devoted ourselves to each other, I watched as they lied next to me, my breath grew unsteady as theirs evened out. I was captivated by their hair spreading softly across pillows that would never compare to how soothing it was to lay across their chest. The way their eyes stared up at me with familiar amazement that made my stomach swell with butterflies and my pulse jump.

They were absolutely breathtaking.

In most literature, rain was mainly used to portray a certain kind of sadness that made the world feel like it was coming to an end, but not now. Right here, laying in between silk sheets that sculpted their body as if they were their own french painting, rain meant devotion, adoration, love.

A kind of endearment I would never find within wet clothes and runny noses unless my lover was next to me basking in the storm.

I know it was impossible, we were indoors for Christ’s sake, but the drop of rain that hit my arm felt real. It wasn’t until my lover’s face dampened with their own pouring raindrops that I realized mine came from my own eyes.

I was quite literally hypnotized, not moving to wipe the tears running down cheeks that were pushed up from the wide, involuntary grin spread across my face. I could only fixate on them, the way they smiled back and the blush that rose to their cheeks. I couldn’t take my eyes away.

It was okay though, because they never looked away either, and reached up to wipe the teardrops I let fall carefree. I nuzzled into the palm of their hand like I couldn’t get enough, but the truth was their touch ignited a comfort that deeply resonated in me, and I would selfishly search out for it every chance I got.

I would pray for the sky to turn gray and rain to fall in sheets for the rest of my life.

____

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[just-here-for-the-moment]

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: It’s Father’s Day again, and you and Whiskey are trying to revive your sex life. Based on the fic “An Unexpected Occasion” with permission from @quica-quica-quica Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: oral sex/M receiving; oral sex/F receiving; unprotected P/V sex in the context of established relationship; use of clitoral vibrator; medium-level bondage/wrists and ankles/F receiving; medium-level impact play (spanking/hands/leather flogger) F receiving; light throat play/hands on neck/F receiving; a smidge of lactation kink; one instance of Jack calling himself “Daddy”; Jack running his FILTHY mouth; mentions of pink champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries

---

Things hadn’t been exactly dead in the bedroom since your daughter was born, just a little slow and awkward. Jack had taken to fatherhood like a champ, cuddling and cradling the baby in his strong hands when she made her appearance just before midnight on New Year’s Eve. You had nothing to complain about, outside of the usual hormonal shifts and new nursing mom adjustments. Your pregnancy had been textbook-healthy, and other than refusing to sleep through the night, your 6-month-old baby was sweet and easy. Her gray irises and peach-fuzz hair had darkened since birth, and now she was a copy of her daddy, all dark eyes and dimples. The only thing you missed from your “before” life was the higher frequency of good-quality sex with Jack.

You knew from your own work with new moms that it sometimes took months for new parents to get back into the swing of things, but it had still been a rude surprise to find that you and Jack were so tired and busy with parenting that it sometimes took a whole week or more for you to find a mutually-agreeable time to get busy. It sucked, and you missed him.

Just like last year, Jack was out on assignment the week leading up to Father's Day. Valentine's Day this year had been a total bust. Both of you were so wiped out that you had spent the evening bickering and then passed out on the couch in front of an action movie at 8:40 p.m. before waking up at midnight for a quick fumble. Your birthday in April had been similar. You had taken the baby to Grandma's for the evening, and instead of having a romantic dinner out, you had gotten into a minor fender-bender and spent the evening with a heating pad on your neck while Jack argued with your auto insurance company's 24-hour hotline.

So you decided that since it was Father's Day and you were feeling a smidge less tired, and a pinch more sexy, you would use Jack's week away to prepare for a mind-blowing weekend. You bought new bed sheets, got your hair and nails done, and ordered some items online that you hoped would spark his interest again and lead to something playful and fun: lengths of soft, specialized bondage rope, a leather flogger, and a new vibrator, shaped like a tongue with a little divot on one side to cup your clit.

A nurse at work had turned you on to the device, claiming that the soft silicone and specialized shape had given her better climaxes than she’d ever experienced with 30 years of bullet vibes. At least that was one good thing about being in the business of having babies; nobody was shy about sex or the human body. You had plugged it in to charge and took the time to read through all of the instructions, holding it against your hand to feel the different levels of vibrations. You wanted to save the test run for Jack’s return; you were eager to see what he thought of it.

You also chose some lingerie that seemed fairly forgiving for your post-baby body: a black babydoll nightgown with hot pink lace, and a sheer robe and slippers to match. As a labor & delivery nurse you knew better than anyone what pregnancy did to women's bodies, but it was still a little upsetting to see the odd bumps and rumples on your torso that didn’t seem to want to shift. You figured (hoped anyway) that when Jack saw the effort you were going to, he wouldn’t care what “flaws” were hiding underneath the gauze and lace. An hour before Jack was due home, you showered and dressed in your new lingerie. A box of chocolate-covered strawberries and a bottle of pink champagne were chilling in the fridge. Now you just had to wait.

Jack arrived home right on time, and you sprang up from the couch to greet him at the front door. He lumbered inside with a groan and dropped his overnight bag in the foyer. You didn’t give him a chance to remove his hat before you were rushing to embrace him. “Jack! Baby, I'm so glad you’re home.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so glad to see you. Where’s the baby?”

You let go of him and stepped back so that he could take in your new outfit. You spun once to give Jack the full view, and then stepped up close to give him a kiss.

“She’s at Grandma’s for the weekend,” you murmured against his lips. “I have champagne in the fridge, and some surprises for you for Father’s Day.”

Jack chuckled and groaned at the same time. “Oh, honeysuckle. That sounds divine, and you look amazing.” He kissed you and slid one hand down to grab your ass. “Is this my surprise?”

You laughed. “Part of it! Come with me, cowboy.”

You led him to the bedroom and made him sit down on the bed. He toed his boots off and started unbuttoning his shirt. You knelt behind him on the bed and rubbed his shoulders as he undressed. “I’m so glad to see you Jack. Are you in the mood to mess around?”

He stood up and turned to you as he removed his pants. “You tell me, sugar.” He slid his tight jeans off and you saw his erection straining against his briefs. He chuckled at you as he stood in his undershirt and hat.

“Oh yeah,” you waggled your eyebrows at him. “I’m so glad you’re home, Jack. We have a lot to catch up on.”

He threw his hat on the dresser and leaned over you to plant kisses to your cheeks and neck and collarbone. You leaned back and he lay on top of you, murmuring against your neck and hair as he nuzzled you. “What’s new, pussycat?”

“Oh, well…” you hummed contentedly. “I did some shopping, got my nails done, bought this new nightie…”

Jack moved down to nuzzle your cleavage. “I see. And what’s underneath? Is that for me, too?”

“Oh, of course Jack. And I got some new toys that I hope you’ll enjoy playing with, too.”

“Is that so?” Jack pulled back and smiled at you. “Can I see?”

You grinned and nodded. “Let me up.”

Jack rolled away from you and you practically bounced over to the closet to retrieve the large gift bag you had put together. He sat up on the edge of the bed and took the bag from you with a raised eyebrow. “Heavy,” he commented.

He reached in and pulled out the leather flogger first, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “Oh, honey, you know just what I like.” He ran his fingers through the leather falls and then slapped it once, lightly against the bedspread. “Well that’s going to be fun.”

You threw your head back and laughed. “Keep going. There’s more in there.”

Jack reached into the bag and pulled out three bundles of soft bondage rope in pearl gray, white, and black. A soft “Ohhh, I see,” fell from his lips. “You need to test my rope skills, keep me fresh? Is that it?”

“Well it never hurts to practice.” You winked at him. “Keep going, there’s one more thing in there.” You clasped your hands together and waited for Jack to set the rope down on the bed. His hand disappeared into the bag one last time and he pulled out a small white satin drawstring bag; the storage bag that the company had included with your new “device.”

Jack frowned as he opened the bag and pulled out the black vibrator. “What’s this?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“A new vibrator. Very advanced technology, and it’s rechargeable and waterproof! Seven different vibration patterns and each one has five different levels.” Jack let out a long, low whistle at that.

You wiggled your eyebrows at him again. “You wanna play, cowboy?”

“Oh, honeybee. I thought you’d never ask.” Jack reached an arm out to circle around your waist and pull you closer. You put your hands on his broad shoulders and leaned down to kiss him as his hands cupped your ass.

The two of you melted together and time slowed down. You had missed this, missed him; missed the easy intimacy that you had shared so much of before the baby came. He felt familiar and good and strong under your lips and hands, and you felt like you had all the time in the world to reintroduce yourselves to each other.

Kisses turned into groping, and you stopped Jack only once to remove your robe and heeled slippers. When you stood before him in just the nightgown and the matching G-string, Jack ran his eyes and his hands appreciatively over your body. You suddenly felt silly that you had ever imagined that Jack would care about any postpartum changes. This was a man who was covered in scars and dings of his own from years of a physical job, he wouldn’t care that you were softer in some places and more wrinkly in others. He just wanted to love you.

You leaned over Jack to reach for the white bundle of rope, and offered it to him as you kneeled down between his legs. You tugged at the waistband of his underwear and he lifted his hips to help you get them off. His cock sprang free and you moaned at the sight of it, taking it into your hands and mouth to lavish attention on him. Jack unwound the length of rope as you kissed and caressed him, then he reached down to pull your wrists up above your head. You pulled off and looked up at him with a smile as he expertly wrapped your wrists, palms pressed together in a prayer position.

He looked down at you with a gentle smirk. “I didn’t say you could stop, honey.”

You hummed out a laugh and bent your head down between your elbows, going back to work with your mouth. Jack leaned back slightly to give himself room to finish wrapping your wrists. When he was done he gave it a tug. “Too tight?”

You pulled off long enough to say, “Just right, baby,” before diving back down to try to swallow him all the way to the back of your throat. Jack groaned softly as he put his large hand across the back of your neck. The broadness of his fingers and the warmth against your skin made you shiver. You hummed out a little noise of pleasure and Jack suddenly hissed and moved his hand under your chin to lift you up off of him.

“You keep going like that, honey, and I won’t make it to the good stuff.”

You smiled up at him, lips slick with saliva. “Well, where do you want me, cowboy?”

He put a strong hand under each elbow and helped you stand. “Why don’tcha lie down and I’ll return the favor for a while?”

You nodded and switched places with Jack, lying back on the bedspread and letting him open your legs. He ran one warm hand up your calf and opened your knee, then repeated the movement on the other side. He kneeled on the soft rug next to the bed and leaned his head close to your crotch, flipping the hem of your nightie up and back. He stroked your lace-covered mound with his fingers.

“Oh, baby, you look gorgeous. So pretty for me.” He placed his open mouth on your panties right over your clit, pressing down to make a seal with his lips before he breathed out gently. The sudden warmth of it made you shiver, and you moaned out his name. Goddamn him; he always knew how to ramp things up to 100 when you least expected it.

Jack hooked your G-string to the side and slid two thick fingers into you, crooking them just right to brush against the spongy spot behind your pubic bone. You arched your back and moaned again. “Jack! Jesus, warn a girl first.”

“Oh but that wouldn’t be any fun, honeysuckle.” His voice was low, all honey and velvet. “You got me all these nice surprises. I thought I’d return the favor.”

He crooked his fingers up again and you squealed as your hips bucked. Jack’s free hand came down on the inside of your thigh with a sharp slap, just above the knee. He smoothed the impact with a warm stroke before running his fingers higher to pinch the inside of your thigh, right where you were most ticklish. You groaned out a laugh as the pinch shot sparks of pleasure and gentle pain to your core.

“You better hold still, girl, or I’ll give you something to moan about.” His words made a rush of wetness seep out between your labia. He pinched you again, gentler than before, and followed it with a kiss to the tender spot. His mustache tickled you there, and you gasped out a giggle.

“Oh, yes sir! I’ll be a good girl.”

“Good, that’s what I like to hear. Now stay still while I concentrate.” He removed his fingers and hooked the elastic waistband of your G-string, pulling it down and off before diving back in with his lips and tongue and fingers, working you open. You felt liquid drip down between your crack as he devoured you, his digits pulling more wetness out of your core as his tongue and lips pushed you open and over the edge. You gasped as you came, trying your best to stay still as you clenched around Jack’s thick fingers. The silken ropes around your wrists strained but held tight. He really was good with a rope.

Jack kissed and petted you softly as you came down, murmuring sweet words into your soft folds. “That’s my good girl, so wet for me... I love this pretty pussy… you have no idea… so good for me… you pretty girl, gorgeous girl...” He placed one last, loud, wet kiss on your mound and then stood up. You smiled up at him as he leaned over you, bracing himself on his fists as he lowered his mouth to yours. Jack was all things at once; soft and warm lips under a cold and damp mustache, his own masculine cologne mixing with your scent on his mouth. The combination and the echoes of your climax made you lightheaded.

Jack stood up and wiped his face off with an open palm. “You ready to play, honeysuckle?” He winked.

You nodded and were surprised at how clear your voice sounded, given how fuzzy your head felt. “Yes, please.”

He grinned at you and gripped your upper arm with a firm hand, helping you sit up and scoot back to recline against the pillows. He grabbed the length of black rope and secured your left ankle to the corner of the bed frame, then did the same with the pearl gray rope on your right ankle. Jack’s movements were swift and gentle, and when he was done you gave your legs an experimental tug. You were spread open and secured in place; you weren’t going anywhere.

“Oh, Jack. Have I been a bad girl?” Your voice was high and playful. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Jack smirked at you as he picked up the black vibrator and turned it on. “It’s not what you did, honeybee. It’s what you’re gonna do.”

His words pulled a gasp from your throat and sent a new rush of slick to your pussy. You moaned a low, needy sound as he kneeled on the bed between your legs and brought the vibrator gently to your clit. You bucked and moaned, feeling the silken bands of rope tug against your ankles. Jack put one large palm on your thigh to hold you still. He nestled the flat tip of the vibrator into the folds surrounding your clit and positioned it so that the shallow divot cupped the sensitive bud.

You were suddenly rocketed into another plane of consciousness as a surprise orgasm wracked your body. Chills crept up the backs of your thighs and down over your nipples. The keening, high-pitched wail that reached your ears surprised you; you hadn’t even realized that you had cried out.

Jack petted your thigh softly as he pulled the vibrator away, keeping it pressed feather-light to your outer labia. “That’s my girl. Good girl.”

You came back to yourself slowly, floating back into the room as you opened your eyes. Jack smiled at you with satisfaction that verged on smugness, like he had just solved a puzzle. He turned off the vibrator and tossed it gently on the bed. “You alright, honey? Did that do something for you?”

“Jesus Christ, Jack. Fuck… oh my god… oh, fuck me…”

Jack smirked at you, “That good, huh?”

“I’ve never come like that in my life. Jesus Christ…”

He crawled up over you, pulling your bound wrists above your head as he kissed you. You felt your breathing return to normal as he explored and probed your mouth with his eager tongue. One strong hand held your jaw in place as the other squeezed and groped your breast. You felt something damp and warm trickle out of your nipple.

“Oh, Jack. I’m leaking a little.” You laughed. “Sorry, it’s been a couple of hours since I pumped for her.”

Jack let go of your chin and worked his mouth down to your cleavage. He opened the split cups of your nightgown and cupped one breast while he brought his mouth to the other, talking and murmuring to you between sucks and licks. “You know I don’t mind, sugar… so sweet for me… you like it when Daddy tastes your honey-sweet milk?”

You guffawed. “Don’t call yourself that, please. It’s weird now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honeysuckle. Should I stop?” He looked up at you and winked. “You can call me ‘sir’ again if that feels good.” He worked his way over to the other breast and suckled some more. You felt a spurt of milk leak out as he gently rolled your nipple between his front teeth.

“Hell,” he kept going, laving the stiff bud with the flat of his tongue, “... you can call me all sorts of mean names if you just let me keep tasting you like this.”

You threw your head back and moaned. Jack let go of your nipples and positioned himself at your entrance, lining up and diving in with one swift movement. You both moaned in unison and gasped as he pumped into you. He felt so good, so stiff and heavy inside of you as he rocked you gently with his hips. The ankle restraints tugged gently at your feet, reminding you of the delicious, vulnerable position you were in.

“Jesus, honeybee… you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock.” Jack grunted as he thrust into you. “You gonna be my good girl? Take my whole load?”

“Yes, Jack! Yes… I’ll be your good girl.”

He thrust up into you harder, pistoning his hips and shaking the whole bed. He pumped a few more times like that and then lifted himself off. “Turn over for me, sugar. Let me spank you with that new whip.”

You nodded enthusiastically. Jack reached down and released each ankle, and then helped you flip over onto your knees. You braced yourself on your elbows with your wrists still bound, and the sight of the bright white ropes against your skin sent a delicious shudder down your nerves, stiffening your nipples and raising goosebumps on your shoulders.

Jack kneeled behind you and spanked your ass cheek experimentally with an open palm, gauging your reaction. You let out a soft, “Oh…” at the first several slaps. He increased the pressure, sending your hips canting forward a few inches as you moaned.

“Oh, Jaaack…” you breathed out the words. “Oh, you’re so good to me.”

Jack picked up the flogger and brought it down on the other cheek. His first whips were soft, barely harder than a tickle. He was waiting for you to guide him. “Harder,” you urged. He smoothed your buttocks with his warm hand and then brought the leather strings down with a crack that sounded sharper than it was. You egged him on, “Harder, I said. Make it count!”

Jack gave you one solid crack and you cried out. His voice was gruff and sandpapery. “Like that, sugar? You like it when I spank you?”

“Yes, Jack. More… please.” You rocked your hips back and lowered your shoulders to raise your butt higher. “Give it to me. Please, sir.”

Jack alternated open-palm slaps against your ass with strikes of the short whip, lashing you until your cries reached a squeaky high pitch. He stopped and smoothed his warm palms over your skin, then leaned down and lavished open-mouthed kisses on the area.

“You nice and wet now, honey? You ready for me again?” He pressed the head of his cock to your slick entrance and paused.

“Yes Jack, yes please. Get inside of me.”

Jack thrust inside of you, hard, and it sent your head reeling. He skated one big, warm, flat palm over your sweetly abused ass, murmuring praises at you as he pounded steadily into you. You raised yourself back up on your elbows for stability.

“You’re my fucking dream girl, you sweet thing. Can’t believe I got so fucking lucky with you…” He gripped your hips with both hands as he pounded into you, then he leaned over to growl into your ear as he wrapped one large hand around the front of your throat.

“You like that, you fucking dirty girl? You filthy little angel? You’re such a sweet girl, letting me fuck you like this.”

You leaned forward just an inch, increasing the pressure on your throat as he continued to grunt into your ear. The sensation of his warm breath on your ear combined with the delicious feeling of his thick fingers around your neck, and you felt yourself clench around his cock.

Jack’s speech started faltering, interspersed with thrusts and groans. You knew he was getting close. “You-” his breath hitched. “Fucking... fucking pretty girl. Fucking-” He groaned again. “...goddamn gorgeous girl… Fuck!”

His hand tightened just a little around your throat and you felt your pussy clench again, sending him over the edge. He let go of your neck and bent over your back, resting his sweaty forehead between your shoulder blades as he rocked into you. You felt him, hot and sticky against your skin as he released into you.

You collapsed onto the bed and he lay on top of you. Your breathing slowed together as you both came back to Earth.

---

“Was that a good welcome home?” You leaned over to Jack’s side of the bed and held a chocolate-covered strawberry up to his lips. He took a bite and moaned. You giggled contentedly and tapped the rim of your champagne flute to his. He nodded at you and swallowed, washing the bite down with a sip of pink champagne.

“Yes, sugar, thank you. That was amazing.” He wrapped his free arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. “I know it’s been a rough year, but I feel like we’re getting back on track in the bedroom. I’ve missed you like this.”

You looked up at him and smiled. “I missed you, too, Jack. Happy Father’s Day.”

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