#i just love her and i've wanted her here for a long time

[stuckyslut8]

Soft and sensitive

Drabble.

Pairing : Thunderbolts Bucky x reader.

A/N: this is for my big boobed girlies, we deserve this for all the struggles we go through in life 🥹 . But anyone can read it, "big" is subjective.

Minors DNI .

Bucky loved your boobs, he was not just enamored by the size , the first time he touched em he said he couldn't believe how soft they were. "So soft babygirl" "did you think they were gonna be hard?" "No but not this soft." But boy did he worship em . He loved holding them with his flesh arm, "jeez this is heavy heavy pretty girl, how do you carry them everywhere." , "that's what I've been thinking my whole life." , "so big and soft " he'd kiss each of 'em goodnight.

"do you have a favourite?" You'd ask just to tease him. "Oh no sweets, you can't aske to choose, they're both my favourite." , "sure ,but there has to be one you'd slightly prefer more?" , "no they're both pretty and perfect." , "but I think my right boob is bigger." "Bigger isn't always better doll. " " Ohh really then why is your dick the best I've ever had?" "Oh hehe it is ,isn't it? , but it's different with dicks sweetheart." You're never gonna get the answer Outta him, might as well give up. He always gives equal attention to both of your boobs, you could never tell, each of them feel just as sticky when he's done sucking on them.

He loves putting them in his mouth, when he was off missions when no one was looking you'd either be in his lap on the couch, your tshirt pulled up and your bra completely discarded, one your your nipples would be in his mouth. One of the teammates has walked in on this atleast once. He was very anxious that day you thought you'd calm him down by letting him so that, so you just got on his lap , unbuttoned your PJ's top you weren't wearing a bra, you just put it in his mouth, "shh suck on em baby." He obeyed without a second thought,.days like these Bucky just wanted to be told what to do, he didn't wanna think. He he sucked your nipple, slowly, occasionally he'd let me out with a pop, moving to your underboob biting it lightly, your one hand tangled in his hair the other going over his back soothingly. "You guys are disgusting." Walker said as he came to the living room to retrieve his phone, he didn't comment further just left, it wasn't his first time walking in on you both. Bucky didn't even bother stopping what he was doing his face was long buried in your chest, humming in appreciation of what he had.

Other days bucky would just lay on top of you, in the comfort of your room, you both had separate rooms in the tower, but Bucky spent most of his waking and sleeping hours in here , "you're place is just more comfortable sweets" , Yelena would tease him about it sometimes, "you know you have your own room barnes" she'd say. "No just let him stay in hers, i don't wanna see what I saw the other day in the living room" walker commented.

" or the training room" Ava added. "Or the kitchen." Bob said nervously "sorry guys I came in to do the dishes and well you were uh, I don't think we should eat on the counter again ever ." But bcuky would eat you out there everyday if he could, but he understood he had to be more careful about messing around from then. He didn't want anyone else looking at his sweet pussy, or those precious goods (that's what he called your boobs at times).

You were grateful atleast Alexei never walked in on you, just then he spoke up , "heard time going at it, in the parking lot the other day, mr.soldier has a lot of stamina, it's the super soldier serum, uhh I used to be like that with Melina, uhh young love." " Dad stop it I don't wanna hear about your sex life with mom ". Yelena said in disgust.

[rafayelxsylusho]

The Holy Trinity

TW: Filthy Smut

In the name of the doctor, the crow and the unholy step bro. ❄️🐦‍⬛🍎

You pause, hand hovering over the doorknob as you take a deep breath.

Steeling yourself, you open the door to find Caleb standing there, a smirk playing on his lips. He looks different than you remember, harder somehow.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you here"

🐦‍⬛❄️🍎🐦‍⬛❄️🍎🐦‍⬛❄️🍎🐦‍⬛❄️🍎🐦‍⬛

You recall the heated conversation with Zayne and Sylus not long ago. They had been livid when you told them about your encounter with Caleb in Skyhaven.

You saw Sylus move, you knew he was leaving, he was going to look for him, he was going to hurt him.

Zayne had spoken up, his voice ringing out with authority even as Sylus stormed towards the door in rage. "Stop. She doesn't want you to hurt him."

Sylus paused, glancing back at you with a scowl. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of hesitation or doubt. When he found none, he let out huff. "He deserves it. He is like a brother to her, why would he do that? You were supposed to take care of her there, Zayne. Where the hell were you?"

Zayne's gaze softened as he looked at you, a hint of tenderness in his eyes despite the tension. "I was working" he explained, though his jaw clenched at the reminder of the tragic loss. "I didn't know he was alive. And we lost two kids..." He trailed off, pain flickering across his face before he pushed it down. Turning to you, he reached out to gently tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. "And he is not like a brother to her, Sylus. He is so much more than that... isn't he, darling?"

You blushed and Sylus' eyes narrowed as he looked between you and Zayne "What is that supposed to mean?" His eyes piercing through to your very soul. "What is he to you then?

Zayne beat you to the answer, his thumb still crooked under your chin. He gazed at you tenderly, a small smile playing on his lips. "They've been in love since they were teenagers," he revealed, his tone almost nostalgic.

Sylus scoffed, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. "Teenagers? That was years ago. People change." Despite his dismissive words, there was a flicker of something unsettling in his eyes, jealousy, perhaps?

Zayne let go of your chin, his hand drifting down to rest on your shoulder as he turned to face Sylus. His expression was serious. "Caleb is not going to give up on her," he stated, "I've known him since we were children"

As if to challenge this, Sylus strode over to where you sat, his tall frame looming. He knelt down in front of you, bringing himself to eye level. His eyes searched yours as he asked, "Aren't we enough for you, Y/N ? Do you want us to step aside and let him have you?"

"She..."

Sylus held up a hand, silencing Zayne. He turned to you, his gaze unwavering. "No, let her answer," he said, leaving the decision squarely in your hands.

You felt the hot tears spill down your cheeks, your voice choking with emotion as you pleaded, "Please don't make me choose. I can't..." The thought of losing any of them was unbearable.

Zayne's eyes flashed at Sylus, his jaw clenching. "He doesn't share, he won't agree to this"

"Well, he has to," Sylus said "Because our greedy little kitten here doesn't just want the two of us..." His gaze raked over you "She wants him too."

He reached out, his fingers catching a tear on your cheek and bringing it to his lips. His tongue flicked out, tasting the salt of your sorrow. "Tell me, sweetie," he murmured. "How are we supposed to share you with a man like him?"

And so you talked about it.

🍎❄️🐦‍⬛🍎❄️🐦‍⬛🍎❄️🐦‍⬛🍎❄️🐦‍⬛🍎

"Did you see my forgiveness coupon?" he asked, his voice low, almost hopeful, but with an undercurrent of something more, a desperation he could hardly hide. "Because I think it's time I cash it in."

"You think so?"

"I know so" Your heart races as Caleb steps closer, the air between you thinning with each step. You see the hope in his eyes, the desperate longing. Just as his face begins to dip down, his intentions clear, you hear Zayne's stern warning behind you.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Caleb's head snaps up, his eyes locking with Zayne's over your shoulder. Zayne's stance is protective, his body language making it clear that he won't hesitate to intervene.

Caleb's smile didn't reach his eyes, a cold, calculating glint remaining as he regarded Zayne. "Long time no see, Zayne," he drawled. His gaze flicked back to you, lingering on your face, before he turned his attention fully to Zayne.

"What are you doing here?" Zayne asked, his voice tight.

"I'm here to talk to Y/N" Caleb said, "So if you don't mind, I'd like some time alone with her." His words were polite, but they sounded like a demand.

"No," Zayne said, his voice rising slightly, a clear refusal "I don't think that's a good idea." 

"Zayne..." You try to speak, but before you could utter another word, Caleb cut you off, his smirk growing wider and mocking.

"I think Y/N can decide on her own who she can or can't talk to," Caleb said. "It's not like she belongs to you," he added, throwing the jab at Zayne.

"She belongs to us"

Your eyes widened in shock as Sylus abruptly walked in through the open door.

In an almost aggressive move, Sylus stepped towards you, his fingers gripping your chin firmly. Before you could react or pull away, he crashed his lips against yours in a kiss. It was branding, a claiming, his way of staking his territory in front of Caleb.

When he finally released you, leaving your lips tingling and your mind reeling, Sylus stood tall and turned to face Caleb. He stepped forward until he was standing in front of him, his broad shoulders squared and his chin held high. With a smug, almost challenging smirk, Sylus looked at Caleb and asked, "Do you have a problem with that?"

"So this is what you were doing in the N109 zone?" Caleb asked, a mocking chuckle escaping his lips.

Sylus merely smirked wider, unfazed by Caleb's hostile demeanor. "Ah, so you must be the adoptive brother then. Caleb, wasn't it?" He spoke as if he already knew the answer. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person." His voice dripped with false sincerity. Despite the pleasantries, the air remained thick with tension as both men stared each other down.

Caleb's expression shifted, a mix of disgust and anger flashing across his face as the true nature of the situation sank in. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "So I see," he said, his voice was tight and laced with contempt. "You've been pretty busy, haven't you, Pipsqueak?" he sneered at you, before turning his glare back to Sylus. "I never took you for the sharing type Y/N. You always kept your little secrets close to your chest, especially when it came to..." He paused, letting out a harsh laugh. "Well, everything. I'm surprised you'd let this..." He jerked his head towards Sylus and Zayne. "...be a part of your life, let alone your bed."

Zayne stepped forward "Watch your mouth," he growled at Caleb, his protective instincts flaring. " Don't you dare speak to her that way."

You squeezed your way between Sylus and Caleb, your voice rising. "What? You want to call me a slut?" you demanded, your eyes flashing with anger and hurt. "Go right ahead, at least I wasn't a coward for years!"

Caleb recoiled as if you'd slapped him, your words striking a nerve. His eyes flashed with a mix of anger, hurt and guilt. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, your accusation leaving him momentarily speechless.

Into the tense silence, Sylus chuckled darkly, a hand coming to rest possessively on your hip as he pulled you back against his chest. "Well," Sylus murmured "Looks like my little kitten has claws after all. I do so love a feisty one."

Zayne remained tense, his eyes locked on Caleb. He seemed to be holding back.

Caleb's jaw worked as he struggled to find a retort, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Finally, he spoke. "You're right," he said, "I was a coward. I should have acted on my feelings long ago. But I'm here now." His gaze bored into you, intense and searching.

"Are you willing to share Colonel?"

Caleb's eyes flashed with a dangerous light at Sylus's words "Share? I don't share what's mine," he growled, "Y/n is not some toy to be passed around." His eyes flicked to you longing in their depths before he turned back to Sylus.

Sylus tightened his grip on your hip, "Everyone's entitled to their opinion, but I have a feeling our little kitten here knows exactly what she wants," he purred, "Don't you, Y/N?"

You closed the remaining space between you and Caleb, your voice steady and clear. "I do" you said, your gaze locked with Caleb's. Then, with a newfound confidence, you continued. "Sharing doesn't mean you have to pass me around or take turns, Caleb. If you want me, cash that coupon and show me you truly mean it, once and for all." Your words were a challenge, daring him to finally make a move and stop holding back.

Caleb leaned in, his lips brushed against yours in a whisper, his breath hot "I'm sorry," he breathed, the words a desperate plea before he pulled back and turned towards the door.

He paused for a moment, his hand gripping the doorknob tightly as if weighing his options. Then, with fierce determination, he muttered under his breath, "Fuck it."

Caleb slammed the door shut and strode back towards you. Before you could react, he had you in his arms, his lips crashing against yours in a messy kiss. It was a collision of teeth, tongue and pent up longing, a kiss filled with all the years of desire he had held back.

This was a moment you fantasized about for years as a teenager, and now it was finally happening.

As you wrapped your legs around Caleb's waist, lost in the heat of the moment, you heard Zayne's voice cut through the haze. "Take her to the bedroom, Caleb"

Caleb didn't hesitate, his hands gripping your thighs, never breaking the kiss. He carried you towards the bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest as he finally gave in to the desire that had consumed him for so long.

He kicked open the bedroom door and laid you down gently on your bed, his body hovering over yours, his eyes shining with a hunger that took your breath away.

"Tell me this is what you want," he whispered "Tell me you want me as much as I want you." In the doorway, you could see Zayne watching, his expression unreadable, but his eyes never leaving you. 

Caleb's eyes darkened with desire as you whispered those four words, "I want you, Caleb." A growl rumbled in his throat as he watched you start to remove your shirt, revealing the skin beneath.

Sylus and Zayne stood side by side in the doorway, their eyes fixed on you. Sylus's expression remained smug, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, relishing the sight of Caleb giving in to his base instincts.

Zayne, on the other hand, looked to be a mix of emotions, the stoic doctor's composure was slipping, revealing a man consumed by jealousy and an urge to assert his own claim. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he watched Caleb worship your exposed skin with reverent touches.

Caleb's fingers splayed across your stomach as he leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss, his tongue claimed your mouth.

"Fuck," Caleb rasped against your lips "I've wanted this for so long. I've wanted you for so long." His hands slid down to grip your ass, squeezing it as he ground his hardening cock against your core.

Then he paused, his hands gripping the waistband of your pants as he slowly dragged them down your legs. He tugged the fabric past your knees and ankles and tossed it aside, leaving you in only your bra and a pair of delicate panties.

He took a moment to drink in the sight of you, his gaze roaming over your curves, a look of desire etched onto his face.

"Beautiful," Sylus murmured, his deep, smooth voice cutting through the charged silence. "Isn't she?"

Caleb's chest heaved with a shuddering breath as he tore his eyes away from your nearly naked body to look at Sylus, a flicker of defiance perhaps, or just plain annoyance, flashing in his eyes. But before he could say something, Zayne spoke up.

"Touch her, Caleb," he ordered, "Make her feel good."

Caleb's attention snapped back to you, his hands already moving to the clasp of your bra. He unhooked it, the scrap of lace falling away to reveal the soft, rounded swells of your breasts. He took a moment to admire them, before leaning down to press open mouthed kisses along the delicate line of your collarbone and the swell of your breasts.

"These tits are what wet dreams are made of" he whispered against your skin.

Without hesitation, he spread your legs apart, hooking his fingers into the fabric of your panties tugging them to the side. The material strained against your hip, baring your most intimate place to his eyes.

"Fuck, look at you," he rasped, "So fucking wet and ready for me." He couldn't resist, his fingers delving between your folds to spread your lips apart. The sight of your aroused flesh, so inviting and eager, made his hard cock throb painfully against his pants.

Unable to hold back any longer, he pushed two long fingers deep inside you and sucked the sensitive peak of your nipple as he felt your walls flutter and clench around his fingers, your body welcoming him in.

"Oh god, Caleb!" you cried out, your back arching off the bed, the soles of your feet pressing against the sheets as you instinctively spread yourself further for him, giving him complete access to your cunt.

Sylus watched Caleb finally take what he had long craved. "Such a needy little thing, isn't she? I bet she's going to look even better stretched around your cock."

Your eyes fluttered shut, lost in the sensations of Caleb's fingers pumping in and out of your dripping sex, his mouth lavishing attention on your sensitive nipples. The pleasure was overwhelming, your body writhing beneath his touch.

Suddenly you heard Zayne's voice, startling you with his proximity to the bed. Your eyes flew open to see him standing close, his gaze intense and focused where Caleb's hand disappeared between your thighs.

"Curl them," he instructed, his voice a husky rumble. It took a moment for the words to register through the fog of arousal clouding Caleb's mind.

"Huh?" Caleb glanced back at Zayne, his brows furrowing in confusion. His fingers stilled inside you for a moment, but didn't withdraw.

"Curl your fingers inside of her, Caleb. She likes that."

Caleb's gaze flicked back to your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips, before he turned his attention back to your body. Following Zayne's advice, he curled his fingers inside you, pressing against a sensitive spot deep within your core.

"Ohhh!" you cried out, your voice pitching higher as a jolt of intense pleasure ripped through you. Your back arched even further, your hips bucking against Caleb's hand as he began to stroke that perfect spot.

"That's it," Sylus murmured. "Make her scream for it."

"Fuck, I can feel you clenching around my fingers like they're your last lifeline," Caleb growled, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit. "You like that, don't you? You like having my fingers buried deep inside you?"

Caleb's gaze never left yours as he listened to your breathy cries, watching your face contort with pleasure. "How badly do you want to cum, princess?" he asked, his tone almost teasing. His fingers slowed their pace, sliding out until just the tips remained inside you.

"S-so badly, Caleb please!" you nearly sobbed, your hips bucking frantically, trying to force his fingers back inside you.

Caleb looked deep into your eyes, his intent clear, then he buried his fingers back inside you, pushing in so deeply that his knuckles pressed firmly against your sensitive skin. At the same time, he lowered his head and captured your nipple between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to toe the line between pleasure and pain.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he gritted out, his fingers pumping faster, "I can't wait to feel your perfect little pussy squeezing my cock."

He could feel your body tensing, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.

"So fucking pretty," his voice was rough with desire as he drank in the sight of you coming undone. "Struggling to take even my fingers like this. But you're going to cum for me, aren't you Pip?"

Unable to form a coherent response, you could only nod frantically, tears of pleasure already welling up in your eyes. His thumb kept circling your clit with teasing strokes.

"Show me," he demanded, "Show me how much you love this. How much you need it." His fingers curled inside you, pressing ruthlessly against that perfect spot.

Your climax hit you with the force of a tidal wave, back arching clean off the bed as a silent scream tore from your throat. Tears spilled down, your vision blurring as pure, white hot ecstasy consumed you. Your cunt clenched like a vice around his fingers, walls rippling and spasming as a gush of liquid heat flooded out of you.

Caleb groaned as he felt your release gush out around his fingers. He didn't let up, continuing to stroke and caress your flesh, drawing out your orgasm for as long as possible.

You slowly blinked away the haze of your orgasm, your chest still heaving with ragged breaths. As your vision cleared, you found Caleb's eyes on you, his gaze heavy with a hunger that made your spent body ache for more.

You watched, almost in a trance, as he slowly pulled out his fingers from your core. They were coated in your release, he made sure to keep his eyes locked with yours as he brought them to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lap at the slickness clinging to his skin.

"Mmmm, you do taste as sweet as you look" He made a show of sucking your juices from his fingers, his lips wrapping around each one, his tongue swirling and lapping until they were clean.

"Look at you, dripping all over the sheets," Sylus said "You're absolutely fucking soaked, aren't you?"

His gaze cut to Zayne, "But none of it is for us, is it Zayne? That sweet little cunt is clenching and fluttering for someone else's touch." 

Zayne's eyes flashed with dangerous intensity as he walked closer to the bed. He could see the way your chest heaved with each breath, the flush of your skin, and the damp patch darkening the sheets beneath you.

Stopping at the edge of the bed, Zayne looked down at you, his expression unreadable "You are so beautiful sweetheart, you don't deserve everything we are going to do to you," he stated "But you will be a good girl and take it, right?

You nod as you reach for Caleb, his muscles tensing as he feels your fingers start to tug at the hem of his shirt, his abdomen tightening reflexively. His gaze turned intense as you leaned in close, your lips a mere hairsbreadth from his. He could feel your warm breath ghosting over his skin, smell the sweet scent of your arousal, and it made his heart pound in his chest.

"I...I don't know if I can," he admitted. Sharing had never been his strong suit, and the thought of another man's hands on you, bringing you pleasure, filled him with jealousy. "But fuck, the way you're looking at me right now..." His eyes darkened, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I think I'm willing to try, for you." His hands covered yours, helping you pull his shirt off and toss it carelessly to the floor.

Your fingers moved to the waistband of his pants, tugging them down over the bulge straining against the fabric, he lifted his hips slightly to help you.

"Impatient little kitten, getting straight to the point"

You turn to look at Sylus and say "You too Sy, take it all off"

"As you wish," he grins, shrugging the shirt off and letting it drop to the floor.

He looks at Zayne, a challenging glint in his eyes. "There, I've done as she asked. Now, are you going to strip for us too, Doctor? Or do you need a little more...encouragement?" 

With a calm, almost clinical efficiency, Zayne began to remove his own clothing, his fingers working at the buttons of his shirt before shrugging it off.

Sylus made a show of shimmying out of his pants and underwear, his movements graceful and sensual. The dark fabric pooled on the floor, leaving him bare, his cock already hard and heavy.

You turned your attention to Caleb, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his underwear. With a tug, you dragged them down his thighs, your eyes widening as his impressive length sprang free. It was magnificent, thick and long, just like Sylus's and Zayne's, the swollen head already glistening with arousal. A bead of moisture clung to the tip, and you found yourself licking your lips as you imagined the taste of him on your tongue.

Caleb's lips curved into a smirk as he watched your reaction "See something you like?" his cock throbbed under your gaze. He reached out, his fingertips tracing along your jawline, tilting your chin up to make you meet his eyes. "What are you going to do with it?"

His eyes widened in surprise as you suddenly straddled his lap and said "Sit on it"

Feeling the heat of your pussy pressed against his cock, a deep flush crept up his neck, coloring his cheeks "For fuck's sake" he muttered, his voice strained with a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

Sylus threw his head back with a dark, delighted laugh. "That's a dangerous offer you're making. Our poor Colonel looks like he might just fucking explode."

Familiar hands come up behind you grabbing your ass and running up your back. Brushing your hair to the side, exposing your neck before a tongue drags up the length of it. Zayne.

You could feel his breath fanning over your ear as he leaned in close. "What are you waiting for?" Zayne asked "Sit on his cock. Show us how badly you need it."

Caleb's breath hitched as Zayne lifted you effortlessly by your ass, aligning your dripping entrance with the throbbing length of Caleb's cock. Your small hand reached down, gripping his shaft, and with a long moan you slowly sank down, taking every inch until he was buried to the hilt inside you.

"Fuuuck!" Caleb's eyes squeezed shut at the exquisite sensation of your gummy walls gripping him. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, kneading and squeezing as he fought the urge to start pounding up into you.

Unable to hold back, Caleb leaned in, catching your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. He soothed the sting with his tongue before pulling back, pupils blown wide with lust.

"I knew it," he growled, his voice rough and ragged. "I fucking knew it would feel like this, like coming home." He rolled his hips, grinding against you, and you could feel every hard, thick inch of him throbbing deep inside your cunt. "Fuck, I'm done. Ruined. I need this every single day. Need to feel this sweet little cunt squeezing my cock. Need to make you mine."

"You feel so goooood inside of me"

"That's because I belong there Pip"

"Belonging already? Don't be greedy, Colonel," Sylus said "You haven't even seen her ride it yet."

Caleb watched you catch your plump bottom lip between your teeth. "Now ride me, pretty girl. Take what you need."

With that you began to move, rising up until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt once more. His fingers dug deeper into the flesh of your hips, guiding your movements as he urged you to ride him harder, faster.

"Fuck, just like that," he grunted, his hips rolling up to meet yours, driving himself deeper into your core. "Your little cunt feels too fucking good squeezing my cock."

Behind you, Zayne watched with a tense jaw and a storm brewing in his eyes, as you struggled to take all of Caleb's length, a frustrated whimper escaping your lips "Too big..." Zayne's hand slid up your back, his fingers splaying across your shoulder blades possessively.

"Not a chance, this pussy was made to swallow our cocks. You'll take every inch." He used his other hand to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Just breathe through it. You can take it."

Then he used both hands to grip your ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he spread your ass cheeks, allowing you to take Caleb's thick length more easily.

As you pushed against Caleb's chest, he fell back onto the bed, his eyes flashing with confusion as Zayne climbed up behind you.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Caleb growled, his voice tight with a possessive anger as he watched Zayne settle in behind you.

A smirk curved Zayne's lips as he met Caleb's glare over your shoulder. "I'm teaching you how to share."

Zayne's fingers brushed over your entrance from behind, still stretched wide around Caleb. You could feel the heat of his breath on your skin as he leaned in close, his chin resting against your shoulder.

"Unless you want to make this a real competition," Zayne murmured as he watched Caleb's face for his reaction. 

His fingers dipped a bit lower, gathering the arousal there to slowly spread it on your back entrance. "I thought I could help Y/N take your cock a little better. She's just so fucking tight, it's almost painful to watch."

Sylus leaned against the wall, a grin spreading across his face as he watched the scene unfold. " And it's about to get even tighter. So don't go blowing your load too soon"

Caleb's eyes widened at Sylus words, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What the fuck does that mean?" he questioned, glancing between Zayne's smirking face and your own flushed expression. The head of his cock throbbed inside your stretched pussy.

Behind you, Zayne's hand gripped your ass tighter as he notched the head of his cock against your smallest hole. You felt the sticky heat of his saliva as he spread it around, prepping you for what was to come.

"Don't think about it too hard," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear "Just breathe for me, darling. You know what to do."

You took a deep, steadying breath, just as you had done before when he and Sylus had taken you together like this. Your body remembered the delicious stretch, the exquisite pleasure of being filled so completely.

As Zayne started to sink into your ass, a strangled moan escaped your lips. Your hands clenched into fists, nails digging into the palm of your hands as you struggled to relax, to let Zayne's thick length slide deeper.

Caleb's eyes squeezed shut once again, a loud moan tearing from his throat as he felt your walls clench even tighter around him, squeezed almost painfully by Zayne's cock. The sensation was overwhelming, more intense than anything he had ever experienced. His heart raced, pounding against his chest like a drum, as he struggled to hold back the orgasm that threatened to crash over him.

"Fuuuck," he gasped, his voice breaking on the word. "I can't...I can't fucking believe..." He trailed off, unable to form a whole sentence as pleasure consumed him. Tears of overwhelming sensation pricked at the corners of his eyes. He had never felt anything so intensely pleasurable, so all consuming. The feeling of Zayne's cock sliding against his own through the thin wall of your body was too much.

"Breathe, kitten," Sylus reminded you "Look at you, taking them so well."

Zayne's hands gripped your ass harder as he bottomed out, his pelvis flush against the globes of your ass. You could feel Caleb's cock throb and jerk inside your pussy in response, trapped between your clenching walls and Zayne's length.

Caleb's eyes widened in shock as you collapsed against his chest, his hands coming up to grip your waist as he felt your arms give out.

Beside you, Sylus had claimed a spot on the bed, stroking his own impressive length with slow, teasing pumps of his fist. His eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction as he watched you struggle to take Zayne's and Caleb's cock.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, my poor feisty kitten... you need to pull yourself up and suck my cock." Sylus ordered" You wanted this, didn't you? So now take it."

At his words, you felt a surge of determination, a need to please all of them. With trembling arms, you pushed yourself up on Caleb's chest, turning your head to face Sylus's throbbing erection.

Caleb watched in awe and a hint of jealousy as one of your small hands wrapped around Sylus's thick shaft, guiding it to your parted lips. His cock throbbed against your palm, leaking precum that you smeared across your bottom lip before leaning in to run your tongue along the swollen head.

Behind you, Zayne's hips snapped forward, driving his cock into your ass as he chased his own climax. One hand tangled in your hair, gripping it tightly as he held you in place, while the other slid around to your front to rub tight circles around your clit.

Caleb's eyes rolled back, his head falling against the pillow as you began to ride him in earnest, your hips rolling and grinding against his own. His fingers dug into the flesh of your waist, undoubtedly leaving bruises in their wake as he gripped you with desperate, bruising force.

Zayne's fingers worked your sensitive clit with skillful strokes, he rubbed mercilessly at that special spot, the one that made your toes curl.

Your moan vibrated around Sylus's thick cock as you took him deeper, sucking hard on the swollen head before relaxing your throat and letting him slide further into your mouth, your cheeks hollowed as you sucked.

When you felt Caleb's mouth close around one of your hard nipples you stopped, frozen in place as pleasure overwhelmed your senses, your moans muffled around the thick cock stretching your lips.

"Did I say you could stop sucking?" Sylus growled. "Close that pretty little mouth around my cock and suck again. Now"

Zayne swore under his breath, his hips never faltering in rhythm. "Fuck, Sylus," he bit out.

"Goddamn it," Caleb rasped, his teeth clenched. "She tightens up when you talk to her like that. I'm not going to last much longer at this rate. She's too fucking tight."

Despite their warnings, Sylus' hips snapped forward to drive his thick length deeper down your throat. "Then make her take it," he challenged, grin curving his lips. "Fuck her through it. I want to feel her scream around my cock as she cums on both of your dicks."

At Sylus's barked command, Caleb surged up into you with a strangled groan, his cock driving to the hilt inside your spasming cunt. The sudden, forceful thrust pushed you forward, and you couldn't help but let out a muffled scream around Sylus's cock.

Zayne gave a sharp, stinging slap to your ass "Move, sweetheart" His fingers dug into the reddening flesh, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body.

Tears streamed down your face as you looked up at Sylus, your eyes wide and glistening with overwhelming sensation. A choked sob mixed with the obscene slurping sounds of your mouth working over his cock as you struggled to take him deeper, your throat constricting around his throbbing shaft.

Sylus's eyes flashed with cruel amusement at the sight of your tears, his smirk widening into a dark, almost feral grin. "Aww, crying are we?" he taunted, "How fucking pathetic...I don't care. Take it.

With that, he began to fuck your face with brutal intensity. His heavy balls slapped against your chin with each thrust, your nose filled with the musky scent of his arousal. Despite the brutal pace, he showed no signs of slowing down, determined to use your mouth for his own pleasure.

Caleb and Zayne matched each other thrust for thrust, their hips slapping against your ass as they chased their rapidly approaching releases.

Your body shook, back arching as your walls clamped down around the two cocks. Your scream ecstasy was muffled and distorted around Sylus's lenght as your orgasm ripped through you.

Almost in perfect sync, as if they had planned it, Caleb surged up into your spasming cunt one last time before throwing his head back with a loud moan. His cock throbbed and pulsed as he finally found his release, hot ropes of his cum painting your walls with thick streaks.

Zayne followed close behind, his fingers digging into the bruised flesh of your ass. With a sharp, harsh grunt, he slammed into you one final time, his cock driving as deep as physically possible. He let out a string of curses under his breath, his body going rigid as his own orgasm crashed over him. You could feel the heat of his release, the way his cock jerked and throbbed as he pumped your ass full of his own thick cum.

More tears streamed down your face as you struggled to breathe, to think, to do anything but surrender to the overwhelming sensation. Sylus, not to be left out, gripped your hair almost painfully tight and drove your head down, forcing your nose to press against his pelvis as he hit the back of your throat. Your moans around his cock vibrated deliciously, the sensation pushing him over the edge. With a harsh moan, he erupted, his thick essence flooding your mouth and throat in what seemed like endless spurts.

The feeling of being completely claimed by three men, was almost too much to bear. But bear it you did, taking everything they gave you and more, your body shaking and trembling with the force of your shared releases.

For a moment, the three men remained still, their grips on your limp, trembling body tightening as they rode out the aftershocks of their orgasms. Finally, with a shuddery breath, Sylus pulled out of your mouth abruptly, thick ropes of saliva and cum connecting your bruised lips to his cock.

"Don't swallow" you heard Sylus say with labored breaths "Show me"

At his command, you parted your lips, allowing the thick strands of saliva and cum connecting your mouth to his cock to break. You stuck out your tongue, letting the mixture of fluids drip down your chin and onto your heaving breasts.

"Good girl," Zayne praised, his fingers released their grip on your ass, only to trail up to your breasts, smearing Sylus' release across your skin.

"You look so beautiful like this, sweetie"

Caleb's voice cut through, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. "Swallow"

With a shaky breath, you did as you were told, tilting your head back to open your throat. Sylus's release was thick and bitter on your tongue, coating your mouth with its musky essence. You had to swallow multiple times to get it all down, your throat working around the heavy load.

As you swallowed the last of Sylus's release, you felt Caleb's and Zayne's cum begin to seep out from where they were still buried inside you, dripping down your thighs.

Sylus's fingers trailed down to your chin, tilting your face up to look at him as he loomed over you with a satisfied smirk. "There now, wasn't that everything you hoped it would be and more?"

[enwoso]

lovin' red | alessia russo x child!reader x leah williamson

there is still a part four to come from weight of world but i wanted to put this little one out before it wasn’t relevant anymore:)

grumpy masterlist

the emirates was a wall of noise. the crowd was still roaring, still chanting, still very much in love with the the team, as even after a bit of a ropey season and amongst the doubt they'd finished second in the league - cementing that with a win over manchester united.

golden boot under her arm, alessia strolled with leah, her girlfriend and teammate, hands brushing. but their attention was on a small blur sprinting ahead of them.

"Y/N mind the cameras!" leah called out with a laugh. there being many reporters and media staff all with cameras you not having the best sense of direction (something you definitely got from your mum) 

but you weren't listening — you had locked eyes on your target. "AUNTIE ELLA!" you yelled, a wide grin on your face.

ella turning around a second too late as she was tackled by the flying bundle of your blonde curls and arsenal red. the manchester player staggering a bit but caught herself in time, lifting you up in a spin. "there's my favorite little russo," ella grinned.

you wrapped your arms around her neck like a koala. "you came!"

"of course i did," ella laughed slightly as she held you in her arms. "wouldn't of missed it. even if your mummy did thump us."

you blinked, playing with the collar of the blue away shirt that ella was wearing before a tiny gasp came from your lips. "did you see mummy got the shiny boot."

"i did see! a big golden shoe. it's very fancy."

"i helped," you said so proudly and matter of the factly. "i told her to score more goals and also did the lucky dances."

"oh! the lucky dances, of course," ella said, nodding gravely having seen a few from videos and england camps. "those are world famous by now."

"they are," you confirmed not really understand what the word famous meant, before narrowing your eyes slightly. "you sad you didn't win?"

ella shrugged, lips tugging up. "a little bit, but that's football innit. but i'm also proud of your mummy. and proud of you. you've been the real booster this season.”

and just then, alessia jogged up behind them, flushed from the walk, still riding the adrenaline. "thought you two might be together. you trying to kidnap my daughter again?"

"hey, little russo here is just spending time with her favourite auntie ella!" ella said innocently with a wide grin, still holding you.

"good job your her only auntie ella then," alessia teased, stepping closer. then there was a pause. something warmer passed between the two former teammates.

"you were class today, less," ella said, sincere now. "golden boot... you've made it look easy all season long."

alessia's smile softened. "thanks, tooney. never easy though you know that. but it meant a lot."

they bumped shoulders lightly, not needing much more than that — a shared history tucked into one glance. they'd always be the bestest of friends. for life.

"right," ella said, kissing your cheek. "go on, your mummy's got a stadium to conquer and i've got a shower callin' my name!"

you reached for alessia not before giving your auntie ella one last hug and getting scooped back into your mummy's arms as the two of you wandered down the pitch.

ahead, you spotted renee talking with a few teammates near the center circle. your eyes lighting up again. "mummy! quick. put me down!" you squirmed.

"you're gonna give someone whiplash," alessia muttered, but she obliged. lifting you down and before she even had a moment to blink you were darting across the grass and straight into renee.

"THANK YOU!" you shouted, throwing your arms around her.

renee staggered. "whoa—hey tiny! uh—thank you?" before the dutch coach knelt down, a little thrown. "but what for?"

you looked up seriously as if the answer was obvious. "for being cool."

renee blinked slightly confused. "i—well... thanks. i guess?"

you nodded, matter-of-fact. "you always give me fist bumps and you always say hi and you don't tell me off for running too fast."

"right," renee laughed, ruffling your hair a little. "well, you're welcome,, for all of that." behind the two of you, the arsenal girls had stopped to watch, arms crossed, grinning.

"think tiny is more popular than us at this point," caitlin whispered, a wide smile on her face as they continued to walk.

beth grinned. "oh for sure, she’s definitely got better pr."

you waved at the group like she was on a float, then spotted someone else and took off again. "CHLOE! LOLO!”

chloe turned, instantly catching on after a few more yells from you. "let me guess. another hug?”

"yes and no," you said, stopping dramatically in front of the chloe, scott chloe’s boyfriend standing nearby. "you have to stay lolo."

"stay?" chloe blinked a small chuckle from scott coming from behind. "with arsenal?"

"yes," you said, arms crossed as if you were able to control chloe’s future at the club. "i told mummy that you’re not allowed to leave."

chloe crouched down to your level, amused. "did you now?"

"i did," you replied you bottom lip wobbling slightly. "c-cause if you leave, who's gonna dance with me?"

beth snorted behind them along with a few others watching on. "she’s got your number, chloe."

chloe tilted her head thoughtfully. "that is a very strong argument."

"very very strong," you nodded. "you do the spin lifts. no one else does the spin lifts."

"true," chloe admitted. "but sometimes football changes. transfers, contracts..." you looked up at the blonde very unimpressed and slightly confused by the big words.

chloe sighed, not wanting to put a dampener on the already great day. "okay, okay. if i go, i promise i’ll fly back every weekend just to dance."

"you better." you paused, then offered her hand. "we do one now?"

chloe took it with a wink. "thought you'd never ask kiddo."

as the crowd roared and the players laughed, you and chloe spun in the middle of the emirates — like it was a stage built just for them.

a little off to the side, alessia and leah sat watching, arms around each other, boots laying next to them as they’d walked around in just socks along the turf which had carried them through the highs and heartbreaks of the season.

"look at her," alessia murmured, eyes soft as she watched you twirl with wild, fearless joy.

"she’s stolen the whole show," leah said, squeezing alessia’s waist.

"she’s picking up your attitude," alessia said, nudging leah slightly as she smirked. “and your cheek." the two of them bursting into laughter, leaning into each other, heads touching lightly.

"you’ve done it, less," leah whispered after a moment, voice quieter now. "golden boot. the perfect season. you’ve gave her something to remember forever."

alessia looked down at the trophy in her hands, then back at you, spinning and beaming under stadium lights. before she turned toward leah, eyes glowing. "so did you," alessia said. "we did it together."

leah kissed her then — soft and sure, in front of their team, their fans, and the daughter who made the whole world feel like home.

as the music faded into the hum of the crowd, you came running back over, breathless, cheeks flushed pink with joy.

"mummy! mama!" you shouted, barreling into both of them with a big squeal.

leah crouched first, scooping her up as alessia wrapped her arms around both you and leah. "you were having fun out there" alessia said, brushing your hair back from your slightly sweaty forehead.

"i know," you grinned, chest puffed out. "lolo says i’m a natural."

leah smirked. "we might have to get you an agent."

you wiggled between them, arms tight around their necks. "you both won today."

alessia blinked. "what do you mean?"

you pulled back slightly, looking serious. "you won your trophy, and mama won 'cause she's bossy. but i won 'cause i’ve got you two."

alessia melted instantly a pout forming on her lips as she could feel the tears building up in her eyes. leah went completely still for a beat — then tugged you in tighter.

"alright," leah whispered. "you’re definitely staying up late now."

"hot chocolate?" you asked, a cheeky smile on your face. "with marshmallows," alessia added.

"and a movie."

"deal."

the three of you sat there a moment longer — tangled together in the heart of the pitch, framed by confetti and floodlights and the fading hum of celebration.

three hearts, one family.

and as you looked up at the two women who were your whole world, you didn't care about trophies or titles.

you already had everything you’d ever need.

and under the hot sun of the emirates, with laughter in the air and trophies in hands, you all stood — family, and something even better: home.

[chanandlersstuff]

Sunshine and Loverboy

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Reader.

Summary: The timeline of how Hayden gradually fell in love with her until he was madly in love, to the point of no returning.

Word count: 8.639

Warnings: Not much actually, age-gap and emotions and lots of feelings.

Author’s note: Hiii, thanks a lot for the love I've been reciving for the series and the nice messages.

It's been a while, but not that long, time it to perfection to be a month.

I hope this is what you wanted to read after the last part, after the rough path between them. And I want to say that I would gladly made them suffer more, but I didn't want you all to hate me so I fast forward right to the part we all wanted.

With that being said, enjoy, there's more to come about those two and I hope you enjoy it. Lots of love, ME.

gif credit @hayden-christensen

← Previous part

May 2022. This is what you came for.

Months had passed. Quiet ones. Months of polite distance, of sterile texts. A "Happy Holidays" here, a “Congrats on the trailer drop” there. Nothing like what it used to be. Nothing close to warmth.

They’d both thought the time apart might heal things. Soften the edges. Drown the ache. Maybe time would do what neither of them could, make it easier to let go.

But the second they saw each other again, it all came crashing back. The longing, the weight of everything unsaid, the quiet ache blooming behind their ribs like something alive.

For Hayden, it was like the sun had finally broken through months of grey skies, like something inside him, something starved, was finally warm again, like something in his chest uncoiled all at once, then immediately twisted again, tighter than before.

For her, it was like remembering how to breathe and hating herself for how much she missed it. Her heart slammed against her chest like it wanted to break free, like it wanted to jump out her chest and run to the person who it belonged to.

They saw each other across a sea of people. Publicists, fans, cameras, executives, handlers, stylists, all of them blurring into white noise.

Hayden stood still, rooted to the floor in his black tailored jacket, hands stopped mid air, eyes only on her. Like the room had tilted. Like the lights and sounds and flashes had vanished and the noise disappeared.

It was just her.

She walked slowly, trying not to rush. She had no right to, not after the silence, not after that night. But her body betrayed her, it always did around him. Her smile faltered for the first time that day.

God, he looks good.

Hair swept back, eyes lit from within, the curve of a smile he was trying hard to hide. Not perfect. Just…Hayden.

People moved between them. Camera crews. Assistants. Disney PR. She gave a practiced smile. He nodded to someone saying his name. 

But they were walking towards the other, slowly, tentatively. One moment there they were, the other they were close. Too close.

She looked up, timid and unsure, the way she had the very first time they met in person, like she was bracing for impact, and Hayden’s body was moving before his brain could catch up. Stepping forward and hugging her.

Not a staged hug. Not a half-press of bodies for the sake of polite industry affection. No, his arms wrapped around her like he’d been waiting a lifetime to do it again.

She froze for a second, caught off guard. Her breath hitched, but then her body remembered too. Quickly easing in his arms, inhaling deeply so he could invade all her senses, her hands gently curled at his back softly.

But the hug was over far too fast, ripped away by reality. By flashes. By movement. By all the eyes watching. 

They stepped back and it was like it never happened. But it did. It so fucking did.

His heart was still racing. Her perfume clung to the fabric of his jacket.

She looked at him, blinking the daze out of her eyes, a hand still hovering like it didn’t know where to fall.

Hayden found his voice first. Croaky. Thin. Meaning every word.

“You look good.”

God, you look incredible.

She smiled, small, timid, but he knew it was a real one. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “So do you.”

Because he never didn’t look good.

She wanted to say more and he wanted to hold her again, but then a handler’s voice cut through the moment. He was needed for a press stop while she was needed for photos, which put a slight look on her face, which was quickly gone, but he noticed. 

And just like that, they were being pulled apart again. Looking over their shoulders briefly before they were gone. 

Back into the crowd, back into orbit, apart, once again, and God, it hurt more than before.

Because even after all this time, touching her still felt like home and letting her go still felt like hell.

Along the day, they were ushered here and there, photo lines, interviews, press booths. They barely had time to breathe, let alone talk and maybe that was a mercy because they wouldn't have known where to start.

They kept looking just past the other, like they were pretending, like it didn’t ache. But the tension grew. Every time she caught a glimpse of him, her pulse skipped. Every time he heard her laugh from across the room, he looked without meaning to.

They were orbiting again. Two moons caught in the same gravity, doomed to circle without ever colliding. Close, but never quite touching. 

When she found a second to breathe, a moment of peace, she slipped into the panel crowd, as if she was just another fan. Because before she was a director, she was a fan.

She texted Ewan as she found a spot at the side of the crowd, watching as the room swelled with anticipation.

Just bumped into the cutest looking boy dressed as you Might’ve found my favorite Obi-Wan

You’re in the panel?

Yeah

Don’t get lost in the crowd We need you

You’re going to do fine You’re more used to the reflector than me

I'll be fine Your lover boy on the other hand…

He's going to be fine too The people love him He just has to believe it

You love him too?

You’re about to be presented Good luck

You didn’t answer, so I’m taking that as a yes

She didn’t reply, just stared at the stage as the lights dimmed and the host’s voice boomed through the space, echoes of excitement curling in the air.

Minutes after, with a great song in the background, the pair walked in sync to the big couch in the middle of the stage and, as the fan girl she was, she cheered and applauded for them. It took five solid minutes for the crowd to stop making noise, encouraged by the older of the pair of course while he looked around.

She watched Hayden in all his glory. The shy smile on his lips, how he waved to the crowd with that unsure, sweet energy that only made them scream louder, the way he manspread with those legs long, one hand casually on his knee, his hair was swept behind his ears. He was mesmerising to her eyes, he always had been and always will be. The black suited him perfectly. 

Hayden was trying not to look nervous, but she knew him. Too well.

The typical questions were asked, how it felt to come back, how it was feeling to be back, how excited they were to be there. Normal, routine questions. The interviewer asked him a question, but he praised the crowd, making them go wild again. While the crowd died down he looked among the ground, her cheer was the one that was heard, and she almost passed out from embarrassment, but it was like they had some kind of pull towards the other because the second she opened her eyes big, he found her and an immense smile plastered across his face, unfiltered, real.

They called his name but he kept watching her way.  He couldn’t look away, didn’t want to, not for a second. Even in a room full of adoration, it was her he looked for. Her he wanted to impress. Her approval he still needed like oxygen.

The flashbulbs didn’t bother him. Only her silence did numbers on him.

He was seated in the middle of the stage, people calling his name, but he could feel her. A whole sea of people between them, and he felt her. Always.

It took a little nudge from his friend and the interviewer calling his name again to take him back to the present. “I’m sorry what?” Hayden said with a smile.

The crowd and the interview laughed and his friend took the chance to lean in and whispered something to his ear. “I take by the look on your face that you found her, lover boy.” Ewan leant back on his seat and enjoyed how his friend rolled his eyes but a blushed appeared in his cheeks.

The interview went back to normal, back and forth with question and answers and the crowd shouting how much they loved them, they laughed and smiled the whole time. While he wasn’t answering questions, and Ewan was, Hayden kept glancing to where she was and then looked around, to not be too obvious, like he was afraid he might get caught wanting her.

“You know, I had to bridge a gap between my last work as Obi-Wan and then Alec Guinness in the New Hope and we just sort of brainstormed what we thought about it. The film was going to be a movie at one point and it turned into a series. Thank God Miss Director became our director because she's splendid.” The people cheered and she smiled, not only at the nickname but at the kind words. “My god she's so good, she's so talented and because she directed all of the episodes it's got her singular vision throughout.” The praise of Ewan, an actor with so much experience in his career, someone who she admired, made her blushed and smile like crazy. “And yeah, you'll see where he's at,” he finished with a cheeky smile.

“And Hayden, how about you?” The interviewer looked at him. “I mean obviously you are, you were, playing Anakin and now you're kind of playing Vader and so, how are we seeing these changes happen? What are we seeing from Anakin now or are we seeing Vader?” They all were excited for the answer.

Hayden sat straight and smiled. “That's what makes this character so compelling, that duality, that inner conflict of self-identity.” The crowd cheered. “It's just been such a thrill to get to come back and continue my journey with the character and to get to explore Darth Vader at this point in the timeline has been huge.” They applauded. “But more than that, it’s been a gift to do it under the guidance of someone so capable.” He paused and looked her way again, but this time, he didn’t look away. “Ewan said, Miss Director, as we like to call her…” His smile softened, sincerity bleeding into every word. “She’s incredibly, the best out there. She’s so intelligent and cool and creative.” 

Hearing those words from his lips made her blushed like a teenage girl all over again. 

“She did an amazing job showing these characters at their best. For the fans. For all of us.” The people cheered again and he nodded. “Let’s get an applause for her, she’s amazing,” Hayden said. 

And before anyone could react, he started clapping. Loud. First. Proud. Ewan joined in, then the rest of the stage, then the room, making her freeze in her stop. 

A sea of people cheering, clapping, and yet, he was watching her. And she was watching him too, because she always did.

The press photos were chaos in slow motion, shouts from photographers layered over one another like crashing waves.

“This way, Ewan!” “Hayden, eyes to your left!” “Miss Director, chin up, beautiful!”

Flash. 

Flash. 

Flash.

They were all lined up, grinning like professionals, rotating in and out of different formations, cast group shots, duo shots, solo poses. Everyone playing their part in the well-oiled, red-carpet machine.

And she? She was luminous in the storm, blinding. To the point Hayden could barely breathe. Staring like a young boy, breath snagging behind his ribs.

How is her face not plastered across every screen in the world? How are there not statues built in her image? How has the world not fallen in love with her already?

She looked like she belonged in another dimension entirely. Her suit was plum-purple, almost like the stains she had on her lips on new years, that kissed every curve like it was made just for her. Her heels gave her just enough height to command the space as she moved with subtle confidence, and her silver jewelry sparkled each time she moved under the lights. She was elegant and slightly fidgety in a way only he would notice. She looked like a star who didn’t know she was one. Like something that shouldn’t be real, and yet… here she was.

And the scent. That jasmine warmth that he had memorized since meeting her. It hit him again as she walked past, brushing just close enough that he could feel the hem of her suit against his leg.

God, she was mesmerizing.

Hayden watched her from the opposite end of the lineup, his own face calm and composed for the cameras, but his eyes kept drifting. Even when it wasn’t his turn, even when he should’ve been adjusting his stance, he looked at her.

She looked like a goddess and she didn’t even know it.

And now everyone else would see it too. Everyone else would know what he’d always known. She was splendid. She was brilliant.

Maybe that was how it should be. Maybe he should’ve always been just a witness to her becoming. Still, he missed being part of it.

She laughed, genuine and sudden, and his eyes snapped to her without thinking. Ewan had said something to her. He didn’t know what, he couldn’t hear it over the noise and shutter clicks, but her head tipped back with laughter, hand instinctively brushing Ewan’s arm as she leaned in, her face lit up.

His chest clenched, not with jealousy, but with envy, sharp and cold and familiar. Because once, it would’ve been him.

It should have been me.

Once, he would’ve been the reason she laughed through her nerves. Once, she would’ve leaned into his space like that. Once, she would’ve nudged his side with her elbow. Once, she would’ve looked to him for safety in the chaos. Once, it would’ve been his name that calmed her heart.

But now? Now he just kept stealing glances and swallowing the ache down. Now she stood three people away, and every inch felt like an entire universe. But God, he missed being the one she looked at when she laughed.

How on God’s green Earth you let the center of your universe slip just far enough that you couldn’t reach her?

“Can we get one of Hayden and Miss Director together, please?” a photographer called out, cutting through the noise.

The whole world paused and his stomach twisted.

He would’ve declined, gently, if she hesitated, if she so much as flinched. But she didn’t, instead a smile appeared on her lips. That small, tired, quiet smile, the one she gave when she’d already felt too much that day and was still standing.

She walked toward him, unhurried. Graceful. Controlled and he met her halfway. When their eyes met in the middle, everything went still. 

The lights, the cameras, the shouting voices, all of it dissolved into a low hum in the back of his mind, drowned out by the roar of his pulse. Everything in him leaned toward her without moving. Every cell of his body reached.

As soon as her hand found his back, gently, his lungs stopped working, his body stilled, like even breathing might ruin it. Just by a simple touch, steadying, familiar, touch.

For months, he’d only remembered the feel of her touch in memories. Ghosts of her touch. The phantom sensation of her closeness. Now, here she was. Real. Near. And he could barely take it. His body shuddered with restraint.

Her touch seared right through the fabric, right into his skin, right into the ache he’d been carrying since the last time he hugged her, all the way back to September.

He had to physically stop himself from looking at her the whole time, from turning into her the way he used to, like a planet caught in her pull. He looked forward, like he was supposed to, pose, smile, look composed professional and separate, but his jaw was tight from the effort, molars hurting.

Every part of him wanted to turn into her, to lean in, to surrender at her mercy, and the flesh was weak, so he looked at her. Because he couldn’t not and it wrecked him.

The makeup was soft and flattering, but it was her eyes that did the most damage, sparkling, alive, present. And, God those lips. Parted ever so slightly, the corner twitching with nerves or humor or both. They were the kind of soft that invited sin. The kind that made him forget every vow of distance, every plan to hold back. Hayden almost crumbled at her feets. 

His body screamed to lean in and kiss her. To close the space that never should have existed between them.

God, he wanted to kiss her. He needed to kiss her. Because this, she, was gravity and he’d been floating, lost, for far too long.

He wanted to bury his hands in her hair and taste every month he’d spent without her. He wanted to tell her that every reason he’d had in July, every wall he’d built, felt just a little less solid now.

But he didn’t have the right.

He could have kissed her then. But he didn’t. He could have chosen her. But he pulled away.   He could have kept choosing her. But he was a coward.

Even if he still believed it was the right choice, believed it had protected her, protected them both. Standing next to her, her hand on his back, his name being shouted by strangers, he wasn’t so sure anymore. All reasoning shook, it shook hard. And in its place, in its cracks, bloomed something else: Regret. Bone-deep, breath-stealing, regret. Because he still ached in every place she had once loved him and he still loved her in every place that could not speak it aloud.

Then he noticed it, the tiny tells of her anxiety.

The way her fingers curled slightly against his blazer. The way her shoulders looked perfect to everyone else but were just a little too tight. The way she held her smile like it was painted on.

So he leaned in, subtly, and his hand lifted slowly, gently, brushing across her back in a barely-there caress, meant only for her.

His voice was low, only for her ears. “Just breathe and smile,” he said, tenderly, every syllable feather-soft. “You’re a natural. Everyone here loves you.”

She looked at him, just a flick of her gaze, but it was enough.

“You got this, Bubble,” he reassured her.

The nickname fell from his lips like it had been waiting there the whole time. Like it had been sitting just behind his teeth for months, desperate for permission to breathe.

It was effortless. Natural. Home. A real one. And she smiled, looking at him and Hayden did too, making the cameras click for a few seconds before they looked up to the front.

He was almost certain it was the only photo from the entire day where his smile touched his eyes. Born from her touch. Her warmth. Her nearness.

Because of her. Always because of her.

And as the flashbulbs went off, as they stepped away with professionalism still wrapped around them like armor, he wondered if she could feel it too—that unspoken thing lingering in the space between their hands.

That thing that still lived. That never stopped living.

Backstage was a hive of movement, headsets crackling, clipboards flipping, assistants whispering frantic directions, stage lights flickered behind curtains, the final checks were happening. The crowd outside was already thunderous, laughter, cheers, the sound of anticipation about to break, the bass from the stage thumping low against the concrete beneath their feet.

She stood near the back wall, near the emergency exit light, which she was about to use to escape, hidden from the bustle, just far enough from everyone to look like she needed space. Not close enough for anyone to really see her.

But he saw her.

Hayden had been looking over his shoulder every few seconds, completely ignoring what one of the cast was saying, eyes glue to her.

Because he knew.

Knew from the way her hand gripped her own arm like a lifeline, from the way her eyes stared out at nothing, from the way she bit down on her bottom lip, too hard, too long. Panic. The familiar threat of it. Coursing under her skin like a storm waiting to break.

He didn’t think, nor ask and just walked up, quiet and slow, and stopped a breath away.

“Hey,” he said softly.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

He stepped in a little closer, cautious, like approaching a skittish bird. “You with me?”

She gave the smallest nod, fragile, like it took everything she had.

“I can’t breathe,” she admitted. The whisper of it cracked something in his chest. “I can’t—I don’t think I can do this.”

His chest ached. “Okay,” he said, voice a thread. “Okay. Just look at me, alright?”

He didn’t say “you’ll be fine” or “you always pull through”, because this wasn’t about reassurance. It was about holding her there, right in that breath, and keeping her grounded.

So he stepped closer and her eyes lifted, wide and shiny, fragile. And he stood in front of her, not blocking, but shielding. Like a wall. Like a harbor. Like a man who would keep the rest of the world at bay if it meant she could breathe.

With his 6’0” frame towering over her, broad shoulders cutting her off from the crowd behind them, he dipped his head until they were eye level. Until the world shrank to just the two of them.

And reached for her hands without hesitation, took them in his like they belonged there. His thumbs brushed gently over her knuckles.

“Just here,” he whispered. “Just me and you. Nothing else.”

Her icy fingers tightened around his warm ones. It was too soft, too much, but it was also all she had.

She blinked up at him then, eyes glassy with panic, lips parted in the way they always were when she was trying not to cry.

“Hey,” he said again, softer this time. “Just breathe, alright? Just with me.”

She inhaled, shaky. Then again.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. “I don’t—I’m not—”

He knew the words before she said them, because he knew the script. Impostor syndrome was a familiar ghost. But it had no place in her.

So he brought one hand up to her cheek, warm hand to her cold skin, and tilted her face gently upward, brushing the edge of her jaw with his thumb, just enough to catch her eyes. His other brought her trembling hand to his chest, right over his heart, and pressed it there, warm and solid beneath her palm, grounding her.

“Don’t do that,” he said, and his voice cracked, just a little. “Don’t say you’re not supposed to be here. You made this. All of this.”

She looked like she might break, so he stepped in closer, closer than he should have. Close enough that her forehead could rest against his chest if she leaned forward even an inch.

His heartbeat was so steady, grounding, strong enough to borrow, and her forehead slowly leaned forward and rested her forehead just below his collarbone, eyes fluttering closed.

And he couldn’t not hold her, so he did. She hadn’t realized how close she was to falling apart until he wrapped one strong arm around her, pulling her gently against him, securely. As if he’d done it a thousand times, because he had, because this was muscle memory. Because this was them and she let herself be folded into him like a breath finding its place again.

He tucked her gently beneath his chin, letting her rest against the warmth of him, his taller frame folding around her protectively. Hayden pressed her into him with just the right amount of pressure, not too tight, not too loose. Just right. Just enough to remind her that she wasn’t alone.

She melted into his hold, like her body knew exactly where it belonged. Her breath started to even out. The noise outside faded into background static. Her heart beat slower. His scent calmed every frantic nerve.

Leaning down just enough to the point his lips brushed against her temple, his hand came up, slowly, reverently, to stroke through her hair, soft and steady. The way you touch something sacred.

“Remember what I told you the first time we met in person?” he asked, voice a whisper only she could hear, wrapped in warmth and memory.

She shook her head against his chest.

He smiled, barely. “I told you… If they chose you to be here, it’s because you’re the best.”

Hayden pulled back just enough to look at her, his hand now on the side of her neck, thumb brushing lightly under her jaw. His eyes cathing how her lower lip quivered, her eyes glossy.

“It’s true,” he said again, firmer this time. “So don’t let your head play games with you.”

Her chin dropped as she nodded, and a single tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

And Hayden, God, he wanted to wipe it away with his hands, to brush it aside with his lips, with his soul, with every part of himself he’d been keeping quiet for months. He wanted to hold her face, kiss the panic out of her skin, give her peace in a way only he ever could.

But he didn’t and instead just held her closer, anchored her there to him.

“Just breathe with me,” he murmured, low and gentle. A prayer. “Just me and you. Nothing else.”

And so they did.

Inhale. Exhale.   Together.

Her forehead rested against his chest for the briefest second, her hand still over his heart, his arm still anchoring in place. Their chests rising and falling in sync. The rest of the world kept moving, but they didn’t. They stayed.

It was torture and home at the same time.

“You’re not alone,”  he whispered into the space between them, just for her. “Not tonight.”

Not ever.

She smiled, barely. Broken but grateful. “You always say the right thing,” she said, the words catching in her throat.

“I don’t.” His lips curved, eyes lowering, heavy with everything he never said. “Not usually.”  Not with you. “But I know you and that helps.”

She let out a soft breath of a laugh, shaky but real. Because yes, he did. Better than anyone ever had.

He looked at her then, really looked at her. Eyes searching every inch of her face like it was the last time he’d be allowed to memorize her.

He wanted to say something. Anything. But the right words still lived somewhere between his throat and his chest, and neither would give them up. So they stayed there, stuck and heavy.

A call came from the stage crew, they were about to be introduced and the curtain was about to be lifted.

She pulled back gently, smoothing her jacket with a shaky breath. “Thanks.”

And he nodded, jaw tight. “Anytime you need me.”

Then she gave him a small smile, tight, brave, and walked past him, her perfume trailing behind like the memory of a dream he never got to finish and he stared after her, fists clenched at his sides.

They couldn’t keep doing this. They wouldn’t. Not after tonight.

They still hadn’t really spoken, but it wasn’t necessary because their silence had learned to carry volumes.

All day they had been pushed and pulled, spun like planets around a dying star, and still, the second they laid eyes on each other again, they remembered everything. Every laugh. Every almost. Every smile. The goodbyes.  And it was still too much.

And the tension? The ache? It hadn’t faded with time, it had evolved, becoming something deeper, quieter, unshakable.

The road was quiet, almost eerily so after the storm of energy that had been the convention. The soft hum of the highway filled the silence around him, headlights stretching into the dark as Anaheim faded behind him. 

His shirt had the first couple of buttons undone, sleeves folded almost to his elbows, suit jacket thrown in the passenger seat, and one arm resting on the door. 

The adrenaline started to wear off, leaving only the low ache of exhaustion mixed with the buzz from earlier in his bones. His mind was elsewhere, like usually lately, and a constant hum in his chest that had started since he saw her again.

His phone rang once, a smile appeared on his lips as soon as he saw the name of the caller and pressed the button on the dash. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Daddy!” Her voice was bright and sweet, like it always was.

It always made something in him settle, no matter how loud his world got. No matter how heavy.

“Did you talk about the show today?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “We had a big panel. Lots of people. A lot.”

“Did you wear that dark shirt you look cool in?”

“I did,” he laughed. “You always know what I’m wearing, huh?”

“Because I know you,” she said simply, as if that explained everything. “And I saw the panel on Youtube.”

“Did you now?”

She hummed. “They were so loud, when you and Ewan walked out” she commented. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, despite the fact that she couldn't see him.

“And they screamed and clapped so loud when you talked about Bubble too,” she sounded happy. 

He smiled, chest aching in the best way.

“You looked like a total nerd in love, daddy.”

Hayden’s hand tightened on the wheel. “Did I now?”

“You did.” She giggled. “Everyone in the comments said you were ‘down bad.’ I didn’t know what that meant, but I do now.”

He grinned. “I’m gonna have to talk to your mom about your internet access.”

“Too late.” She said it like a challenge, then softened. “Did she look pretty?”

His smile softened too. “More than pretty.”

“Did you say that?”

“No,” he admitted, voice small now. “Not with those words.”

“Why not?”

And there it was, that tiny dagger of truth.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I guess I got scared.”

“Of what?”

He blinked. “It’s not that simple, bug.”

“Why not?” Her voice tilted up. “Do you love her?”

The words hit harder than expected, not because they were new, but because they were true.

He exhaled. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I do.”

There was a long pause on the other end. He could hear her thinking.

“Like…movie love?” she asked, and he could hear her climbing into bed on the other side of the phone. “Like when the boy looks at the girl and knows he wants to be in her movie forever?”

He smiled, painfully. “Yeah. Just like that.”

There was a rustling of sheets.

Then, soft and serious: “Then why haven’t you told her yet?”

He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to explain fear and timing and guilt and almosts.

“I think you should tell her,” Briar said firmly. “Because if you love her like that, and you don’t say it, then… she won’t know she’s in your story.”

He blinked up at the ceiling.

“And I was watching Anastasia again today,” she added, her voice dreamy now, “and remember how Dimitri gave her the music box and said he didn't know he was in love with her until he wasn’t with her anymore?”

He smiled, heart squeezing. “I remember.”

“And he almost let her go,” she whispered, “but then he didn’t.”

Hayden swallowed hard.

“You’re my brave Daddy, right?”

He cleared his throat. “Right.”

“Then don’t be like the boys who are scared. Be like Dimitri. Say it. Or else you’re gonna be sad. And I don’t want that.”

He sat in silence for a moment, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “I don’t want that either,” he said.

“You love her,” she said again, like it was the most obvious thing in the universe. “So go tell her.”

And suddenly, everything settled.

It was a truth settled into him like a stone finding its place at the bottom of a lake. Because she was right.

Not that he didn’t know he loved her, because he had known it for a long time. But hearing it out loud, from the voice that mattered most in his world… it struck him differently. 

It solidified the truth. 

Now it was clear. Solid. Unshakeable.

He loved her. Loved her and he had to tell her with honesty, with himself, with every truth he’d held back since July. He had to tell her, not next time, not if it comes up. 

Hayde you have to tell her now. 

Because she deserved to know she was his story, she’d always been. And maybe… maybe it wasn’t too late.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Okay what?” she asked sleepily.

“I’ll tell her.”

A pause.

Then her quiet little voice again, already half-asleep: “Good. You always sound happier when she’s around.”

It’s been a long time coming. 

The street was quiet. That kind of quiet that only lived between midnight and dawn, where even the wind seemed to whisper.

Hayden parked outside her house, headlights dimmed. The dashboard lights glowed soft orange, casting shadows across his face. The dash clock blinked back at him, the numbers meaningless, his breath fogging faint against the window. He sat there, hands gripping the steering wheel like it might anchor him.

His chest was tight. Breath shallow. A wild, restless energy alive in every inch of him.

What are you doing, Hayden?

He stared at the house. At her house. Lights still on inside, a flicker of warmth behind the curtains. Her world. Her quiet. It looked warm inside, safe. It looked like her.

He closed his eyes. Briar’s voice still echoed in his chest like gospel. “You love her, so go tell her.” 

He could have waited for the “right time”, but having her in his arms again at the convention had opened the floodgates, and he couldn’t live behind the dam anymore.

He couldn’t go another night pretending he was fine, because holding it in hurt more than the fear of being turned away. He’d already wasted enough time.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, shoving the door open.

The night air hit him like a wave, cold, honest as he walked up the front steps, heart hammering like it wanted to tear through his ribs. Like if he didn’t knock right now, he’d stay lost in the almost.

He knocked. Once. Twice. And then the door opened.

She stood there, hair down, wrapped in a worn hoodie, barefoot on the wooden floor, glasses sliding down her nose. And still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Hi,” he breathed.

Her brows furrowed, surprised. “Hayden?”

His name in her mouth was soft. Questioning. A little stunned.

“I know,” he said quickly, hands up like he might stop her from closing the door. “I know. It’s late. I’m sorry, I just—”

He looked at her, really looked at her. Her tired eyes. The way she held the door with one hand, like she wasn’t sure if she should let him in.

So he stood in the glow of her porch light and let it spill.

“I was an idiot,” he said, voice thick. “I’ve been an idiot. Since July. Maybe longer. I’ve been walking around pretending I’m okay, that I made the right call. But I didn’t. I’ve been so, madly, in love with you, and I didn’t say it. I let you walk away from me with a broken heart.”

She didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just breathed.

He kept going.

“I meant what I said back then. About the risk. About wanting to protect you. But I should’ve told you the rest. The part where I—” he swallowed, rough and sharp, “—I wake up thinking about you. All the time.”

His voice dropped, like he was afraid of how big the truth felt, but he ached with it.

“Where your laugh is one of my favorite sounds. Where every time I see jasmines I think of you. Where I want to know what you think about my outfits because you are one of the most stylish person I know.”

Her eyes softened, just a little. And it kept pouring out.

“Where breakfast with you is one of my favorite moments and I want them with you, every day. Where I want to stay up until four in the morning watching musicals with you, even though I’ll complain and secretly love every minute. I want to kiss you in the morning, and fight over what coffee brand to buy. I want all of it. I want everything with you.”

He stepped closer, just enough for the light from inside to touch his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything. For being a coward. For hurting you. For not choosing you when I should’ve.”

A pause. A breath.

He let his hands fall to his sides, itching to touch her, completely open, completely bare.

“I didn’t plan this,” he admitted. “I didn’t expect you. But I can’t pretend I don’t feel it anymore.”

He looked at her, eyes burning, and stepped forward. One more inch. One more heartbeat closer.

“I think about you. Constantly.”

A moment of silence. Then he breathed, like it might be his last chance.

“Maybe it’s late. Maybe I missed my moment. But I’m here now. I’m not afraid. I’m just—”

He gave a quiet, broken laugh. Shook his head.

“I’m just a man, standing in front of the woman he loves, asking if there’s still a chance.” His voice came out all raw and wrecked.

She stared at him and he thought maybe his heart would stop from the weight of it all.

Her lips parted. Her chest rose. But no words came.

“I know I hurt you,” Hayden whispered, every word cracking under the weight of it. “I know I did. But I had to say it, because if I loved you less… I might be able to talk about it more.”

Her eyes shimmered in the porchlight. The night bent around them like the first verse of a love song that had taken too long to write. There he stood, on her porch, his heart in her hands, chest crack open, waiting, hoping

And she… folded her arms, leaning in the doorway, she tilted her head, full of grace. The quiet stretched between them, tight as thread.

“Can I talk now?”

Hayden’s chest nearly caved in. “Yeah,” he breathed, almost afraid to move.

And that was all she needed to let it bleed.

Not a scream, not anger, just truth, cutting, clean, honest. The kind of truth that struck like lightning and still tasted like honey.

“You broke my heart, Hayden,” she said, her voice trembling but steady. “You shattered it. And not all at once. Not loudly. You did it slowly. Quietly. With every look you didn’t give me, with every word you didn’t say, with every time you chose fear over me, with every time you said half the truth and left the rest buried in your chest.”

His throat tightened, but he didn’t speak because she needed to say this. He needed her to say it.

“But the worst part?” she said, taking a step closer, voice trembling with the kind of love that never left even when it should have. “I kept being in love with you, through all of it, even when it hurt. I kept being in love with you when you left. I kept being in love with you in the quiet. I was still in love with you even when I hated myself for it, even when I told myself to move on.”

Every word from her lips hit him like scripture. Like prophecy. Like truth. He took them in like they were breath and his lungs were on fire.

“I waited and waited, smiling through it.” Her voice cracked, barely. “Telling myself it didn’t matter. That the series was enough. That my work would be enough. But it wasn’t. You were supposed to be enough too.”

He tried to speak, she raised a finger, silencing him like a queen.

“And don’t you dare show up here, in the house, in the place you look like you belong in, just to tell me all the things I begged to hear months ago. Don’t you dare to say all that if you’re not ready to stay.”

A tear fell, glowing silver on her cheek.

“But,” she breathed, voice faltering, just a note, then rising again like a crescendo, “if you mean it, if you’re here, not to borrow me but to choose me, then yes. There’s a chance.”

Her arms dropped and stepped forward then. Just one step. But it was everything.

“I still want it all. The breakfasts. The arguments about which movie to watch. The inside jokes. The midnights watching storms. The faint cigarette smoke on my clothes. The laughing until I can’t breathe. The way your hand finds mine without looking. I want all of it, mundane and the extraordinary.”

Another tiny step closer, her hand founding the front of his shirt.

“But I’m not giving you pieces of me this time, Hayden,” she said, looking straight into him. “It’s everything. Or it’s nothing at all.”

“Everything,” he breathed out, somehow. 

She nodded and grabbed his collar, pulling him down into her like gravity was a myth. 

And the kiss?

God.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a collapse, a wildfire. The moment when the orchestra explodes and everything the story has been building toward finally hits.

It was messy and wild and impossibly right. It was months of longing and regret and aching hope, poured into mouths that had waited too long.

Her hands tangled in his curls, pulling, grounding, owning him. His hands were everywhere, her waist, her back, the curve of her jaw, like he was trying to memorize every inch he'd lost, like she might vanish again if he wasn’t careful.

She tasted like tears and relief and forever.

And he kissed her like he was dying and she was breath. Like he knew every second they’d been apart and wasn’t wasting a single one more. Like he had been dead, hollow, since July and a kiss, not any kiss, her kiss, brought him back to life. Like she restarted his heart and somehow, she did.

Their bodies molded, their hearts crashed. It was too much and still not enough.

She clung to him like he was the anchor and the storm, arms wrapped around his middle, fists curling into his shirt, anchoring herself like she belonged there, because she did. And he held her like she was the place all the compasses had been pointing to, gripping her like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

When they broke apart, barely, breathing heavy, foreheads pressed together like a prayer, she whispered:

“Don’t leave again.”

And he didn’t even hesitate.

His voice was steady, full of wonder and worship and the kind of love you only admit once you’ve nearly lost it all.

“Not unless it’s with you.”

And right then, under the porchlight, they stopped being an almost and became the always.

The morning light spilled like melted gold across her bedroom, stretching over linen sheets, dipping into the soft curve of her neck where her head rested on his chest.

Hayden lay still, one arm around her back, the other resting loosely on her thigh where her leg tangled with his, her bare foot resting against his calf. Her breath rose and fell against him in even rhythms, like the tide. 

Familiar. Soothing. Home.

He wasn’t sure what woke him first, her warmth or the way his heart felt like it had finally stopped holding its breath.

He tilted his head, slowly, carefully, and brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. His fingers were gentle, reverent. She looked like something out of a dream he never wanted to wake from. He could’ve stayed there forever, watching the sunlight kiss her cheeks, memorizing the softness of her lips, the flutter of her lashes.

He could have, but he had a better idea.

Pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head, he whispered, “Back soon,” though she was too deep in sleep to hear.

And then he slipped quietly out of bed.

When she woke, the scent of him still clinging to the pillow beside her, on her skin, in the room, and a smile appeared on her lips. But she didn’t feel him and her sleep-heavy brain whispered that she’d imagined it, that last night had been a dream, one of the ones she never dared to hope for.

But then, she opened her eyes slowly, adjusting to the warm light, and reached to the other side of the bed and it was still warm and the sound of soft clinks and muffled humming drifted in from the kitchen.

She sat up slowly, blinking sleep from her eyes, hair wild from the night, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. Barefoot, she padded toward the kitchen, the cool floor grounding her as she rounded the corner.

And then she saw him.

Hayden. Barefoot too, in the hoodie that was his but she never gave back, sleeves pushed up as he stood at the stove, humming lowly to himself while he scrambled eggs and coffee brewing while toast popping.

Sunlight poured across the floor like it was showing off for him. As if it was leading her to him.

Her knees buckled a little and a smile stretched wide across her face, slow and stunned.

She walked toward him, slow and light, and slipped her hands under his hoodie from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist, cheek pressed to the warm curve of his back.

“Morning,” she murmured.

He hissed softly at the cold of her fingers. “Jesus,” he laughed, hand instinctively finding hers, warm and steady. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Whatcha doing?” she asked, peeking around his arm.

“Breakfast,” he hummed, as if it were obvious, as if it weren’t the single most romantic thing she’d ever witnessed at 7AM.

Giving him a light kiss on his back, she climbed onto the counter, legs swinging lightly as she watched him move, comfortable and easy like they’d always been this way.

He turned back to the eggs, but her presence kept tugging at his attention. She looked too cute there, hair messy, hoodie swallowing her whole, eyes sleepy and still full of love. So damn dreamlike that in between buttering toast, he leaned in and almost stole a kiss.

But before his lips could meet hers, her eyes flew wide and she jerked her head back. “No!”

He blinked, stunned. “What—?”

“I didn’t brush my teeth!” she cried, already hopping down from the counter like a woman on a mission.

And with that, she bolted down the hall, bare feet thumping against the floor, disappearing toward the bathroom.

Hayden laughed, really laughed, head back, shaking his head like she’d just told the best joke of his life. He couldn’t have given a bigger damn about morning breath or bed hair. She was her. She was his. And that was all that mattered.

A few minutes later, she padded back into the kitchen, lips freshly minty, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands and hair tied in a half bun.

She tried to walk past him on her way back to the counter, but his hand found the back of her neck as she passed, warm and firm.

He tugged gently. “Now give me my kiss,” he said, voice husky with sleep and something deeper. Something that made stars appear in her eyes and her knees falter a little. “Please,” he added, caressing her nose with the tip of his.

She leaned in and he met her halfway.

This time, it was slow. Sure. Devastating.

He kissed her like a man who had every intention of doing this every morning for the rest of his life. His hands cradled her face, guiding her, owning the moment, and she gave in gladly, letting him lead, letting herself fall.

When they broke apart, barely, she tilted her chin up, fingers weaving into his curls like they belonged there. With a breathless smile, she pulled him into a kiss, not urgent, not hungry, but slow and reverent. A kiss laced in sunlight, a kiss that was a promise.

She sighed into his mouth, the softest moan slipping from her lips, something so small and yet it lit every nerve ending in his body on fire. His free hand slid down, steady and sure, wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush against him like the only place she was ever meant to be was right there.

They didn’t part when the kiss ended, not truly. Their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the space between them. Her arms stayed looped around his neck, caressing the hairs at the nape of his neck and his hands held her like she was something he’d dreamed into reality.

She was looking up at him, not just with affection, but with awe too, like he was something celestial, like she couldn’t believe he was real.

He exhaled slowly and lifted one hand to her face, and with a kind of touch that could only be born from deep, aching love, he traced her features.

The soft arc of her brow, the curve of her nose, the swell of her lips, still pink from him, and she let him, totally entranced.

Her face rested in the cradle of his hands, her eyes sparkled, lips curved into the faintest smile as if the joy inside her was too big to stay hidden but too sacred to shout and he couldn’t stop smiling too

“What?” he whispered, like anything louder might shatter the spell.

Her lashes fluttered. “I’m mentally recording this moment.”

His chest stuttered. His heart roared.

“Are you…” he swallowed, breath catching, “utterly, incandescently happy?”

She just nodded, slowly, surely, and smiled so impossibly wide that it made the corners of her eyes scrunch, made his knees go weak, made every regret he'd ever known disappear like morning mist.

“Good,” he breathed, voice catching in his throat. “Me too.”

Then he leaned in and kissed her again, softly and sweetly. Like a prayer answered. Like they had all the time in the world and he would spend every second kissing her just like that.

When they parted, their foreheads still touched, she leaned into his palm. Her eyes closed, feeling peaceful and full.

And he could not stop looking at her, and didn't want to stop either. He let his eyes memorize her all over again.

The way the morning light kissed her skin. The baby hairs that curled against her temple. The way her breath caught when he brushed his thumb beneath her eye. The way her lips curved, still tingling from his. The way she looked, so radiant, so his, in the quiet haven of their morning.

He memorized every single detail all over again, because he knew that after losing her once, he’d never survive it again, he was never letting go again. And more to his satisfaction, she didn’t want to let go either, she was happy right where she was, in his arms.

Next Part →

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[cipheramnesia]

Dezzy gets a lot of her information about human social habits through observation, so she kind of thinks Ollie is someone with a reasonable grasp of romantic involvement. After all, Ollie is always reading those romance stories, sometimes when it's late and/or she's inebriated she talks about her aspirations, and it all sounds very complicated to Dezzy.

Like they'd be on some long caravan between cities and she, that is to say Dezzy, just wanders around at night bothering everyone and while they're moving she's making conversation with some very minor Lady, who obviously doesn't want to spend all day talking to a giant (for a rat) albino rat who smells alarmingly like beef jerky. But Dezzy, that is to say the rat, is at least polite and the Lady reads her inquisitive nature as polite and deferential. So when it comes out that she's getting "shipped off by mummy and daddy to marry some dreadfully boring Duke Leo, or Theo, or something," Dezzy becomes intrigued.

"Oh, was his rescue insufficiently daring, or perhaps inadequately dashing? Please, I would be delighted to learn about the circumstances of your capture and subsequent rescue!"

So, obviously, the lady is confused, like, "Pardon you? My capture?"

"Why yes! According to my good friend Ollie, in courtship, humans must have at least individuals involved - when one wishes to court another, a human will announce this intention through an abduction! Ollie says that usually this matter is handled by darkly handsome pirates." Rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "But sometimes it may be a charming bandit... Anyway, the suitor must then prove their suitability as a mate by retrieving whoever they are courting from this other party. I've noticed like many other creatures, these rituals can often be quite violent! And the- the courtee? The courtee may opt to select their kidnapper in lieu of the suitor, which Ollie says actually her favorite, but I simply do not understand how you-"

The Lady, incredibly bored. "Oh wow. How amazing. That must be why my parents shoved me off on a road trip to Duke what'shisnuts' son."

"Aha. That is most peculiar. Perhaps we can locate your abductors! Ollie, Ollie, wake up, there is a mystery afoot!"

Zoning out watching the scenery Ollie is like half drooling and snorts out of her stupor confused and lost and like "Are we there yet? Are there bandits?"

"No Ollie, this young woman was just telling me how she has yet to undertake the kidnapping part of courtship, the one from your books."

"From my whu... No, what, no-no-no, haahhh, Dezzy can we talk?" Ollie being in full flop sweat panic mode.

Meanwhile the Lady is looking at Ollie while plotting bisexually over how pissed off her mom would be if she showed up back home in the arms of some complete dropout punk, "Why as a matter of fact, your rodent friend raises a good point - Ollie, is it?"

But Ollie is oblivious to even the most overt romantic overtures, she's just dead ass staring at this person who is like, talking to her normally instead of yelling for the maître d to have her removed, she's like sinking away. "Uh... right how."

"I think if you and I just pretend to be already betrothed it would be just the perfect way for the Duke of snoresville to win back my heart and show his true love."

Dezzy is like nodding along the whole time smiling while Ollie shakes her head no and finally grabs Dezzy and, "We-we-I-I can't beeeecause. Because. Because weeee... are-are married! Yes. This is my wife... rat. Person. Who I married."

"But, we aren't-" and Ollie just clamps her hand over Dezzy's muzzle like, "Yup! Ha haa. Married person here, I sure wish we could help. I just love my... my rat... toooo much." The whole time Dezzy is making muffled protests.

"Don't worry," sez the Lady, "It would all be a pretend betrothal. Just so mummy and daddy know my future husband is devoted." Ollie looking back and forth from Dezzy's hopeful face to the Lady... something, she has no idea what the expression she's making is about. All she knows for sure is that Dezzy just let a perfect stranger talk her into being abducted.

My newest obsession is a rat girl made for Pathfinder2e. She's leucistic, with white hair and red eyes, and she dresses in all black just like a tiny, furry Elric of Melnoboné, but all she wants to do is teach you about maths.

[nobigsecrets]

BuckTommy Fic Recs - Part 2 | Part 1

but sweet kisses i’ve got to spare by @26-cats-in-a-trenchcoat Rating: M, Words: 5,692 it’s 2 AM. tommy’s in pain. buck is the guy who likes to fix things.

the more you know by winterbucky (WinterLadyy) Rating: E, Words: 1,946 Tommy's nearing his 40s. He knows himself, experimented, learned his kinks and likes. There's not a lot that can surprise him. This is exactly why his reaction to Evan in a uniform, holding a clipboard, shocks the hell out of him. Thankfully, he has a caring boyfriend who's just as into this whole thing as Tommy is. or: tommy sees uniformed buck and ends up on his knees, calling him "sir" because you always can learn more about yourself. feat dirty talk, face fucking, leg humping, and a lot of softness

caught in the way you got me by @gaytommykinard Rating: E, Words: 2,465 Tommy’s brain short-circuits for a moment. He watches as Amalia slides up to him and he puts an arm around her shoulders, and they’re both looking at him kind of expectantly and he catches on only with seconds to spare before she asks, “You wanna come home with us?” (Threesome fic, Tommy/OFC/ OMC)

Tommy Kinard's Guide To The Best (And Worst) Places To Take A Nap by @salty-autistic-writer Rating: G, Words: 2,780 Tommy naps a lot. He’s not picky about where he’s taking his naps. But some places are better than others.

A Full-Body Workout by Persiflager Rating: E, Words: 7,901 When Tommy turns back to Eddie he finds Eddie giving him a knowing look. “Laundry and meal prep, huh?”

Big strong fireman boyfriend by @janekburza Rating: E, Words: 8,640 Tommy is a bottom. With his posture it’s hard to tell and not the first thing people think when looking at him. It doesn’t help that he likes to take charge and be more dominant in bed. Meeting Evan, as tall as him, as wide as him, made him hope that they’ll be compatible in this. Because Buck’s posture doesn’t take his adorableness away, and Tommy can work with that. Will their freaks match each other? (Of course.) Or: Sex positive look at Tevan’s relationship in season 7.

You’ve Got Me Up in a Frenzy by @emphasisonthehomo Rating: E, Words: 19,499 Between one breath and the next they pull apart. Tommy’s stomach is in knots. He keeps his eyes closed for just a second longer. Just to savor it. Before he needs to look at Evan and find out if he truly ruined this or not. OR Tommy seems more confident than he is.

Shattered Steel by @lovetommyactually Rating: M, Words: 3,041 Buck’s world came back in flashes. Pain—sharp and burning, radiating through his arm. Muffled voices. The distinct smell of metal and blood. A whisper—no, a voice he knew. A voice he loved.

AITA for trying to get my coworker and his ex back together? by @aringofsalt Rating: T, Words: 1,179 Some backstory: I (31M) have been at my job for about four years. My coworker B (30sM) is one of the boss's favourites, and has spent a lot of time hazing me, even after I passed my probation. He's a bit better now, but I've never considered him to be a particularly close coworker, let alone friend. Ravi turns to Reddit.

pinch-hit hero by @ashesandhalefire Rating: E, Words: 35,195 the one where Tommy is a veteran porn star, Buck makes a wish, and Chim calls in another favor

got my head checked by a jumbo jet by @beanarie Rating: G, Words: 5,254 "Natalia," Bobby parrots blankly. It's very unlike him. "I mean, I know we haven't been together long. I don't expect her to be here. But we- we probably had plans. I don't want her to- to think I ghosted her." Bobby leans forward in his chair. "Buck, what's the last thing you remember?" Buck's stomach does a flip. "Why."

leave that vision of hell to the dying by @26-cats-in-a-trenchcoat Rating: T, Words: 28,581 evan buckley's professional life as he knew it was over after he was struck by lightning. one year later, he makes a discovery that electrifies his life all over again. or: the forever young (1992) not-quite-au with cap trilogy & the shape of water vibes that's had me in a chokehold for less than a week. featuring man out of time!tommy kinard, too much trash, and a buck who is enough, just by being buck.

White Noise by @lovetommyactually Rating: M, Words: 5,900 Tommy never meant to chase after the call—he certainly never meant to get buried under a crumbling house with too many regrets and a body giving out beneath him. But one bad feeling led to a collapse, a broken leg, and a 9-1-1 call he almost didn’t make. With Maddie on the line and the 118 closing in, Tommy confronts more than just the pain.

the crash is coming soon by @screamlet Rating: M, Words: 3,926 "I just got put on administrative leave, pending an investigation." Tommy takes a shaky breath. "Can I stay at your place for a while?" (Post episode 8x15)

tomorrow never knows by jamesandanthony Rating: G, Words: 2,207 "Hello?" "Buck?" The voice scratches at Tommy's brain, familiar enough that he feels he should recognise it. "He's sleeping, can I help?" "Oh, good, I wasn't sure if he still had the same number," the voice says and suddenly it clicks. "Abby?" he says quietly, something like panic rising in his throat. (Post episode 8x15)

The Least Vulnerable Spot by @rcmclachlan Rating: T, Words: 4,405 Tommy doesn't attend the memorial procession. It's kind of Buck's fault.

in your (our) corner by @screamlet Rating: M, Words: 11,218 Sometimes, running is the answer. (Post episode 8x17)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

butterflygirl738 (6)

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, sickness, medical bills, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You love butterflies and your mother, but life isn’t that simple. As life gets complicated, and expensive, you find yourself in need and an unexpected miracle presents itself.

Characters: Steve Rogers (CEO/Sugar Daddy)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"It was a nice day," S says as he checks the rear view mirror.

You twitch out of your trance. Your eyes are itchy, the way they get after a double shift. You suppress a yawn and nod.

"Very nice, thank you," you agree and twiddle your fingers in your palm.

"But you're anxious to get home..." he says.

"Well....my mom..." you begin. "I'm not trying to ditch you--"

"Ha, I know. I'm selfish. I've had you all day." He keeps his eyes on the road. "Should we stop and get her something?"

"Um, that's. Mm. I'd love to but..."

"Might be suspicious. Got it." He clucks. "Well, what about tomorrow? You got plans?"

"She has an appointment," you say. "Check-up."

"Ah, makes sense," he says. "When is it? Maybe after..."

"Yeah, er maybe. But... how long are you here? What about New York?" You wonder. The big city, his company, all that is still a mystery to you.

"It can wait. Besides, the hotel has wifi. I got all night to catch up emails."

"Oh, right." You stare at the street ahead.

"Tomorrow?" He prompts before the silence drags.

"Tomorrow. After noon? Should be done by then," you assure him, twisting your fist around your finger.

"Can I ask you a favour?" He slows as he gets to your street.

"A favour?"

"Yeah. Nothing big. Promise." He turns the corner and keeps a snail's pace.

"Alright," you utter.

"Will you bring a few bills tomorrow? We can go through them. Sort that out--"

"S. No. I can't--" 

"But that's the deal," he insists. "How can I help if I don't know the situation?"

"I... I don't know. It's a lot."

"A lot you shouldn't be worried about. You should be focused on your mom. Not money." He stops in front of your building. He angles in his seat and puts his hand on the back of yours. "This is what I'm here for. To take all that off your shoulders."

You exhale and swallow dryly. "It feels like too much."

"Not to me." His thumb rubs the seat, close to your shoulder. "Look, I'm just me. I got more than enough for that. I want to do this. I want someone to share this with. To spoil, if I can."

You look at him. He's too good to be true. After all the bad days, all the set backs, all the red numbers, you just can't believe it's what he says it it.

"I'll bring one," you offer.

"One?" He echoes.

"Mhmm," you nod.

"The highest one then," he says. His tone is even but demanding. 

"Okay."

"Okay," he repeats and clears his throat. "Look, sweetheart, let's not ruin the day. Go inside, spend some time with mom. I'll text you."

You chew your lip. You should tell him. It won't help if he thinks you're ignoring him.

"Maybe not." You fidget. "I'm... I'm almost out of... I uh, the internet is down and I pay per message."

"Hm, why didn't you mention it before?" He challenges.

You sink down, pushing your shoulders high. "It's embarrassing."

He sighs. 

"No problem. Tomorrow. After noon," he pats the seat and rescinds his hand. "Hope the appointment goes well."

"Me too," you murmur in dread.

You undo your seat belt and grab your purse. You sit up and glance at him. He watches you expectantly but you're not sure what he's waiting for.

"Good night," you say.

His jaw ticks, "good night, sweetheart."

You smile weakly and get out. You shut the door gently and turn to step over the curb. You march up to the front doors and peek back. You wave then go inside.

You feel bad now. Like you're abandoning him. After such a nice day, you're just strutting off without giving him anything...

Your chest knots up as you climb the stairs. It isn't just him, it's the lies. You're not sure you can keep this up but if you don't, what are you going to do? You can't pay him back and the missed hours at work won't do much to help that. And if you keep calling in, well, you might not have time to make up for what you missed.

You're confused. This was supposed to make it all easier but it all feels so much more complicated. Why can't life be as simple as the chrysalis in the hamper? 

🦋

"Will you come in with me?" Your mom asks as they call her name.

You nod and stand with her. It's not like the early days. When she went on her own. She didn't tell you the diagnoses right away. Not until the first treatment. That was a horrible day and there's been many of those since.

You follow the nurse to the sterile room. You sit in the chair in the corner and your mother sits in the chair by the small counter top. You're silent. Both anxious.

Dr. Vincent enters. You almost feel like you should stand. You cross your legs and return his greeting. It's not a very good morning but you won't say so.

"So, Noreen," he says to your mother. "I have some news."

Your mother looks at him from her chair. She looks small like a child. You've never seen her afraid but in that moment, you see her eyes gleam.

"You're a candidate for stem cell transplant." He says.

Your mom looks at you and back to him. You don't know what that means either. You remember they mentioned it early on but it never came back up.

"No more chemo. At least for now. We think this is the opportune time and it could help with recovery in the long run," he explains.

"Oh, right," she breathes. 

"We'll send you for a few scans to see how things are looking but your last images were positive."

"Uh huh, okay," she blinks. "Is it very expensive?"

He hums. "It can be. Depending on insurance. Of course, it would be my recommendation for you to go with it. Chemo is showing results but in my experience, this is the best course of action. If you wish to continue as you are, it's entirely within your discretion."

You're both quiet.

"I'll provide you some information on it before you go. How about that? Give you some time to think." He says.

"That's good," you say as your mom stays silent.

"Alright, then, we'll do the usual," Vincent diverts. "Let's get you on the bed."

You sit patiently as he checks your mother over. He's quick and efficient. He has a full waiting room, even this early in the morning. You thank him after your mother does and he leaves the room.

She steps onto the stool and down to the floor. As you approach her, she sighs. She doesn't say anything as she leads you out of the room.

As she stops at the admin desk to get the folder of pamphlets, she bids them a good day. As you come out into the gloomy of the rainy day, you take her hand. She stops and stands at the curb, looking out into the distance.

"I'm tired, pie."

"I know, mom," you say.

"What do you think?" She asks.

"I don't know. Maybe... we should read the stuff."

"It'll be expensive."

"It's all expensive," you mutter.

She drops her head. "My last days and I have to watch my daughter work herself half to death just to suffer more and more."

"Mom, please, he said things are looking good--"

"Maybe but I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."

You swallow as your eyes burn. "It's... it's your choice. Always your choice." You look away, trying not to cry.

"Honey," she squeezes your hand. "I don't want to give up. I know you won't, either, but you're tired too. It hurts me to see you like this."

"Mom," is all you can eke out.

She lets go of you and looks at the folder. She exhales. "I'll read it over."

"We'll read it together," you offer. 

"When's work?" She wonders.

"Noon," you answer. Not work, per se. Just an obligation.

"Enough time for breakfast," she says. "My treat."

"Mom," you say.

"I know, I know. But I just want one last cinnamon bun before I go," she insists.

🦋

You're trembling. You haven't been able to stop since you left the apartment. You couldn't let your mom see the panic. She's already having a rough day.

You stand under the awning of the building, waiting. S drives up and you run out without pulling up your jacket hood. You feel in your pocket for the pamphlet.

You get in the car and flick the moisture from your cheeks. You gasp. "It's really coming down."

"You don't have an umbrella?" S says.

"Forgot," you shrug.

"Mm, well, looks like a day best spent inside. I was thinking, they got pretty good food at my hotel. We could have lunch."

You hesitate. The thought of his hotel room makes your stomach stir. You remember what he said. 'We'll see where it goes'. It's feeling more and more like there's only one way this goes.

"Sure, whatever you like." You sniff.

You buckle up and sit back. You tilt your head up.

"Long morning?" He asks as he pulls into the street.

"Yeah... a little."

"Bad news?" He asks cautiously.

"Mm, news... stuff to think about."

"Right," he steers on as the wipers swing back and forth. "Well, just relax. Once we get to the hotel, you can get dry and clear your head."

"Yeah. Thanks."

You close your eyes, content to let the rain and the motion soothe you. It's a moment to prepare yourself.. Maybe once you tell him, he'll change his mind.

When the car stops, you snap up as if you were sleeping. Your mind slows as the world does the same. S smiles at you and reaches behind your seat. He grabs an umbrella out of the back.

He gets out, shielding himself from the downpour, and comes around to open your door. He walks you up to the hotel doors and folds up the umbrella before he enters the lobby. He points you to the elevators.

"Got some work done this morning," he proclaims as you get on. "You were asking about my company."

"Oh, right. I was. Curious, I guess. I don't know anyone who owns one."

"You do now," he chuckles. "It's not as glamourous as it seems. This is as much time as I've had to myself in... a decade?"

"Really?"

"Not to complain. I mean, certain things I don't have to worry about. It's not a bad life. Solitary," he shrugs and the doors open.

He guides you along the hallway to his suite door. He lets you in ahead of him. He puts the umbrella in the tall vase by the door.

You unzip your jacket and hang it. You look down at your jeans. They're soaked. You rub the damp fabric.

"I got a spare robe in here, if you want to let those dry," he says.

"Sure, uh, probably," you agree.

He takes off his shoes and you step out of your boots. You linger by the door, shyly glancing into the suite. He stands up and combs his fingers through his hair.

"I'll get the room service menu," he grins and struts away. "Make yourself at home."

As he looks around, you reach into your jacket pocket. You hide the pamphlet behind your back, clasping your wrist tight, and tiptoe further inside. He waves the laminated menu at you.

"Right here," he puts it on the small round table between two chairs. "I'll get that robe."

"Sure."

You wait, reluctant at the edge of the sitting room. A couch and a clamshell chair in velvet. It's all so nice.

He comes back in.

"If you want to change before you make up your mind--"

"Uh huh, yeah."

You keep the pamphlet behind you and take the robe. He points you to the bathroom and you scurry into it. You lock yourself inside and strip off the wet jeans. The texture leaves your skin itchy. Ugh.

You hang them on the bar meant for towels and pull on the robe. It's soft and roomy. You tuck the pamphlet into the pocket and face the door.

You emerge as S sits at the table. You walk carefully, paranoid that the robe might fall open despite the tight knot around the middle. You sit down and lean over to read the menu. It's a good distraction.

"I recommend the mac and cheese, as simple as it sounds," he taps with his finger.

"Oh, I like mac and cheese," you say.

You continue your perusal. You'll probably just go with what he says. Your appetite is lost in the storm of your inside.

"So, uh, did you bring that bill?"

You sit up stiffly and blink at him. Your hand goes to the pocket of the robe. You gape at him. How do you do this?

"We can wait--"

"No, I can't. Not-- no. Because..." you stammer as your heart races. "Because it's... it's too much and... you can say no and... I'll be okay. My mom will be okay. I'll figure it out. I will."

"Woah, woah, sweetheart," he gets up and comes around the table. He gets down to his knees as he puts his hands on your arms, his thumbs caressing you. "It's alright. I asked you to--"

"No, no," you jitter as you reach in the pocket and slide out the pamphlet, slightly damp from the rain. "It's... it's more... it's..." you look down at the paper as you clutch it in your hands. "The doctor said it will be good but..."

He drags his hands down your arms to your hands. He eases the pamphlet free. He sits back on his heels and opens it. He reads it over as you cover your face.

"I think I should go--"

"I can do it," he says calmly. "One hundred? Easy."

"One hundred thousand!" You drop your hands. "S!"

"It's just money. This isn't about that. It's about your mom, isn't it?"

You stare at him. You don't understand how he can be so generous. It's just take, take, take, and you have nothing to give. And the more he gives, the more you depend on it. The hole only gets deeper and deeper.

[iojg]

Alright, let us get to work! I both dread these chains of long winded posts and love them, and this one is more so in particular -- I really enjoy what we are talking about, but I see here a great potential for talking past one each other. I sincerely hope we will be able to bypass that threat. To that end, I will do the "quoting a part of message and then answering" thing, but I will try not to split our conversation into several different topics we pursue in parallel. To achieve that, I will not quote you chronotopically, instead using quotes to sorta subtitle the parts of my whole argument. I also want to assure you that despite me not quoting large swaths of your post, I've read it in full multiple times before starting to write this, and I'll likely reread it after writing this sentence still. Without further delay,

It's What My Character Would Do

Firstly, I'd like to say that, as far as I understand, you don't hold any animosity towards the hypothetical quoted player here, despite the stated infamy. Rather I believe we both agree that it is a matter of mismanaged expectation between the player and the GM: the first wants to advocate for her character, the second wants to tell her story, which she prepped. I want then to *go on the record* and state that I will from this point speak mainly about games in which "saying what your character does" is the crux of the game -- in my preferred style of game this is THE fun part. Now, I will say something that I believe will underscore the whole matter of our disagreement, and which will be, essentially, my thesis: I believe that there is a kind of prep damaging to this play, and a kind of prep conductive to it, all while there is a kind of improv that is damaging and a kind that is conductive too. I don't believe that the important line lies between prep or no prep here at all.

When that decision was made - right now, or in last night's prep - doesn't matter. What matters is when it's spoken into reality in front of the other players.

Now, I think you are missing something rather important right here. I think the missed part is the most important thing about SIS (I would myself just say "fiction", but I enjoy your partiality to that anachronism, so let's stick to it!) and that it is *how it is managed*. That is, who, how and when gets to decide what is part of SIS and what isn't. I think this social situation surrounding SIS is the most important and meaningful because it is way more uncontroversially real than its interior. Whether GM gets to make up that there is a village in a middle of play is a matter social relations between real people, just as in general who gets to speak when and about what exactly.

The work of a really well-prepared GM who's really good at running a pre-planned game will be largely indistinguishable from the work of a really good 0-prep GM who has instead learned to build the game on the fly. ... However, the accepted default is an extremely high-prep approach, and that high-prep approach often leads to negative outcomes... That's what I'm pushing back against, right?

For my money, actually, there is nearly zero distinction between the two in practice, as far the social situation is concerned, because what is happening there in both cases is that GM assumes a role of some sort of entertaining storyteller by taking control of the story, and making it go wherever she likes. In the first case, she predetermines the matter before play. In the second case, she decides where the story goes on the fly. But the sitch is basically the same if you squint a bit: the important part is that *she decides*.

The kind of play I enjoy, the story does not go where GM wants, the story follows established fiction (contains of SIS). Counter-intuitively, I think GM deciding what's the most fun thing to happen would be is the most ruinous thing to fun here, because it is completely unsupportive of my favourite "It's What My Character Would Do!" style of play, because it relies upon there being emergent consequences for character action. Otherwise, what is happening is quantum ogre sans prep: whatever the characters do, GM makes *whatever is fun* happen. The fact that she doesn't know before the game isn't what's important, what's important is that she *decides*. And to clarify, the problem is not that she doesn't take into account what is fun for the players or not, that's besides the point. The story made up by GM on the fly for the players' tastes is still a story made up by GM. No *finding out* is happening.

Just as you, I imagine here the most extreme scenario possible. You can obviously, for example, establish the situation in full during the first 20 minutes of play, agreeing that what will be collectively made up there is what the game is about. Or, more radically, you can improv it during the first few sessions of play, and then gradually shift to explore it, the way Apocalypse World plays out when done close to text. But if your desired style of play is not GM's story, the shift must occur at some point, and it might just occur between prep and first session.

Now, another important thing is that spreading the GM role around doesn't really help. I will not elaborate at this time, because the whole reply is starting to tire me out, but such measure just basically shifts the problem to game being shared by several storytellers. Still not playing to find out by my definition.

At this moment, I have my attention span killing my ability to write further. I hope it's not too insulting how I practically ignored your second part of the post, but I hope you can see that if I do so at that time the conversation will get really unwieldy. If it's not too much to ask, please tell me if I really need to address some concern of yours before you can honestly reply to me, and I will do so. Again, sorry for not being thorough, and for not ending my response properly!

writing intricate backstories is the playerside equivallent of the gm prep burden

[traincat]

a genuine question why do people keep saying johnny is gay instead of bi? like i get it and i agree BUT why not bi?

Honestly I think this is one of those things that is totally up to personal interpretation, considering the weird Queer Grey Area Johnny lives in. I think he's gay, though I've gone back and forth over the years, but if other people want to think he's bi/pan, I don't think that's a wrong interpretation, either. (I do not control how other people label the Human Torch's sexuality, etc.)

I think, for me, what's swung my personal read on the character to gay over the years is just like, the extreme lack of actual demonstrated attraction to women. Johnny says he's attracted to women. Loudly! Frequently! Through the bullhorn! Is there a camera turned his way! Oh God please someone believe him. But when confronted with an attractive woman who wants to be intimate with him, he may go along with it, but sooner or later he's going to start ghosting.

(FF v3 #55) "'Scuze me -- I had this funny idea a guy was supposed to spend time with his girlfriend."

Look at his marriage, for example. Not the Skrull retcon stuff, although I do think that ultimately comes into play -- I'm talking about two things. There's, first off, the extreme sexlessness of the honeymoon.

(FF #301 and #302) I'm not saying like, nobody goes hiking on their honeymoon. I'm sure there's avid hikers enjoying romantic hikes out there. I'm saying that this is Johnny Storm and he's out there backpacking and visiting artist communes. Peter and Mary Jane, by comparison, were making the beast with two backs on a beach in France. (I actually really like #302 as an issue, it has a fun concept, but it does kind of highlight how Unsexy Johnny and Alicia are as a couple. The chemistry of styrofoam.)

Then there's the Crystal Emotional Affair.

(FF #305) "So things did work out in the long run!" Oh yeah you guys are gonna be real normal about each other.

(FF #317)

This never goes anywhere, mostly because of Johnny. I don't doubt Crystal would have upheld the most holiest of marital duties: cheating. (I love Crys, I just think her love 'em and leave 'em tendency is funny.) There's a lot of melodramatic bemoaning here -- she's the most beautiful girl he's ever seen! She regrets her decision to leave him! They're angsting about it in the shower. Separate. Separate showers. Because this never goes anywhere even remotely physical, because Johnny Would Never Cheat On His Wife, as he says. Repeatedly.

It's important to look at the issue numbers here: Johnny and Alicia only got together in #275. They got married in #300. By #305, Johnny is basically emotionally clawing at the walls to get out of his marriage, falling back on old romances, which is something of a tendency. When Crys dumped him, after all, he tried to get back with Dorrie Evans. Nothing happened there, either.

And then much later on, when Crystal does come onto him, he's not into it.

(Marvel Knights 4 #30)

Again, there's a pattern here. After Frankie Raye left him (for Galactus), he pursued her roommate Julie Angel hard -- albeit chastely. But when Julie does kiss him, he's suddenly "over her." Johnny talks the talks but he rarely walks the walk.

(FF #236) Out of curiosity, I wanted to see what Peter was doing romantically around this exact time. Peter's a useful yardstick here because whatever else you want to headcanon about him, he's definitely romantically and sexually interested in women, and consistently portrayed that way. At this point in time (roughly late 1981), Peter was embroiling himself in a love triangle with his fellow grad students, Marcy Kane and Deb Whitman, and then also getting back together with Black Cat. He should be classified a menace against women. But while Peter is referencing cunnilingus techniques in scenes with his wife, Johnny's most overt sexual reference from his own marriage is that he's going to "darn Alicia's socks." And that's not even Johnny! That's in an imagined world that never happened! We know they were sleeping together, because Johnny certainly believes it's possible that Lyja could have been pregnant, but there's no passion between Johnny and Alicia during the marriage. And if it was just the marriage, I could write that off as him not being attracted to Alicia specifically. But it's not just the marriage.

Johnny is constantly portrayed as someone who wants to be in love, but once he's in that relationship, there's always a barrier or an obstacle. He's probably his happiest in his initial relationship with Crystal which is, uh, unfortunate, because that started when he was roughly 19 and ended at latest in his very early 20s. (Again, we're dating him by dating Peter, here -- Johnny got married very shortly before Peter did, and Peter got married, by his own statement, five years after he started college, so he was roughly 23. Johnny would also have been 23 or 24 when he got married. This means MJ was 22 when she got married oh my God put her back in that club.) And Johnny and Crystal are very cute!

(FF #64 and #67) They're adorable. But they're kids. Just because Johnny had a Pinterest board for his Plaza wedding at age 19 doesn't mean it was going to work.

Then there's Frankie -- obviously, Frankie and Johnny were not doing anything, because whenever Frankie takes off her clothes she's got a whole gold bodysuit under there. Once the reveal with her powers happens, Johnny is disturbed by Frankie's more violent tendencies. Then she leaves him for Galactus. His next "big" relationship is Alicia/Lyja, and that's. You know, that's a whole thing. After that, things never REALLY get off the ground again. There's relationships! But they don't go anywhere. This is also when the Playboy Johnny persona emerges, as shallow as it is, and while I do think there's enough evidence to headcanon that as Johnny's trauma response to the Skrull marriage, honestly it's probably just because Marvel's cadre of largely male writers in the late '90s and early '00s couldn't imagine a single blond pretty boy wouldn't be a raging skirt chaser. I'm going to address this in more detail in a reply to a different ask, but I personally believe in something called the Johnny Effect where I give every new Fantastic Four writer post-Claremont something like the first few issues to adjust to writing Johnny. There's usually a slide into a more honest look at the character after that point. Which I get -- there's characters where, after you write them for a while, you start thinking about them more in depth, and I think that's what happens with Johnny.

The third thing for me is like -- I've talked about this before but there's the history of violation linked to Johnny and intimacy. In some way, in a lot of his relationships (although not all), Johnny is lied to, has his boundaries violated, or is flat out assaulted. This isn't solely with women, granted. Daken Akihiro, Wolverine's son, engineers their (word of author canon) relationship by shooting him through the thigh with an arrow and pinning it on Bullseye. But I would not call that an isolated incident on the other party's side. It's just that it does happen a lot with women, including women he's had relationships with.

(FF #46 and #49) That's an alternate Frankie Raye, but still. You have the kiss with Psionics at the end of that arc, only for Psionics' next appearance to involve her killing one of Johnny's good friends in front of him while threatening the lives of his niece and nephew. There's a certain level of melodrama expected in romantic relationships with comics, but Johnny's drama often crosses a line in a way Peter's "bad girl" drama with, say, Felicia, doesn't. I think you could trace a lot of this back to the unaddressed aspects of the Lyja plotline, but not all of it.

Other characters just also euphemistically call him gay.

(Hulk vs Thing: Hard Knocks #3) Why does the Hulk think he's gay.

I swung around to thinking he's just not attracted to women at all through a lot of rereads and writing various meta posts and just generally thinking about him, but again, that's not like, I can't make any rules here, I can just make my own case. If other people want to view him as bi, I think you could make a case, too. From my perspective, there's a lack of demonstrated attraction to women (even the weird Sexy Cosplayers scene in Miller's run is a set up so a film crew can walk in on him and he abandons them at the first opportunity) and a lack of emotional intimacy to a lot of his relationships when compared to his Very Heterosexual Male Friendships. For me, I think what's going on with Johnny is that he was put in this role as a teenager of the Celebrity Teen Heartthrob, and he was at least somewhat aware at that point in time that the Fantastic Four's security depended heavily on both him and Sue being desirable to fans. But boyband-types grow up, and Johnny has struggled to match his image to what's "desirable" to his current market group -- but he knows it involves him in a high profile relationship with a woman, and that's where a lot of his post-Alilyja relationships have come from. (Darla, Kourtney, Nita, etc.) I think Dark Wolverine demonstrated that if Johnny's in the closet, it's not to his family. They know what's going. It's the rest of the world Johnny keeps himself closeted over, because he links his high flying heartthrob image to safety.

(Daken: Dark Wolverine #4) "Is peace hard to come by for you?"

But again, sexuality headcanons -- and again, Johnny is not canon-by-corporate queer -- are personal. These are just my thoughts on the subject.

(FF v6 #5) "Be brave, Johnny Storm."

[yahumankdj]

LaDs Flower Analysis

Because I am such a loser when it comes to flower meanings and symbolism and feel the need to apply it to everything I write and look into it with obscene detail.

This isn't a flower analysis on flowers that represent them, but the ones I could see in game and wanted to talk about how they represent them~ This is mostly my interpretation and research - feel free to correct me ehehe...

(Finished writing, phew, this is PACKED with angst, sorry gang + SPOILERS FOR THE BOYS’ MYTHS.)

Xavier - Forget-Me-Nots

Alright, firstly my favourite eepy boy, and his is pretty self-explanatory, but obviously I will use any excuse to talk about him. Simply, they mean 'don't forget me' or 'I will never forget you', and in the context of Xavier's myth that is so devastating for me... He's seen so much, his existence has been one linear timeline of memories and a shattered sense of identity, it's ironic in a sense. He wishes for MC to remember him, but does that 'him' even exist anymore? That thought probably runs through his head every moment.

Another meaning is humility. Xavier has grown into a person who is willing to put his needs second to MC's, he would do everything to protect her. It might seem like modesty when he doesn't talk about his own abilities but I wonder if it's because he truly doesn't see them as anything worth mentioning... Simply something necessary. This goes hand in hand with the meaning of resilience, with how much he's survived and lived through over the years crafting his mild personality. He's used to surviving. Living without much meaning, besides doing what is necessary to see the girl he loves.

You think I'm done hurting you yet? They're also commonly used to represent soldiers lost at war. (Like Xavier's sense of identity. Crying yet?)

They also represent faithfulness and loyalty. Oh Xavier my quiet loverboy, I love you so much it hurts.

Rafayel - Spider Lillies

You really can't think of Rafayel without mentioning love and tragedy. Across East Asia, the meanings kind of differ. In Japan, it's commonly a sign of death, love, loss and how fleeting life is in the grand scheme of things. Considering how Rafayel obviously isn't human and has a long life time, this is pretty representative of all the suffering he's gone through. One phrase I saw while researching stood out to me, 'the beauty that can be found in decay'. If that isn't the most Rafayel thing I've seen, I must hate flowers. Rafayel has caused so much death, so much chaos in pursuit of true love, he probably weighs the consequences in his head everyday. True love at the cost of sacrifice upon sacrifice, hurt upon hurt. His centuries of pain eventually lead to his true love. His happiness.

Red Spider Lillies are a poisonous, toxic flower that represents so much love and beauty it hurts. How fitting.

The positive side here is that they can represent new beginnings. Rafayel coming clean to MC about the past and finally letting go of the agony and regret is the only way for the true beauty of his love to grow from the decay of his homeland.

Caleb - Crabapple Flowers

CALEB MY SHAYLA, off the bat they literally symbolise enduring affection and love. Ugh. Just kill me why don’t you. They have the general message of new beginnings, however the fruit of the flower is so enduring it can ladt through the hardship of winter to enjoy spring and blossom. I could make a better metaphor for Caleb’s situation if I tried.

Particularly Chinese crabapple flowers are intrinsically linked to marriage and romance, leading to peace and a long life… Which Caleb better have after exploding so much bloody times. Just like crabapple flowers, Caleb has so much love for MC in him that it endured through countless unimaginable hardships, despite it hurting him, like how winter kills flowers, yet he persevered.

Also, not to like encourage the Caleb smut writers or anything but uh, crabapples are a major symbol of major fertility and reproduction. Do what you will with this knowledge.

Sylus - Daturas

This is the red flower seen in his dragon myth card, although they took some extreme creative liberties with it - it looks more like red Lillies than anything. Daturas are what they actually are, and how fitting they are, being known as the ‘Devil’s Trumpet’. While Sylus’ whole demon imagery, it’s fitting.

The datura flower deals with themes of beauty and death. It’s extremely poisonous to the point of being deadly, but you can’t help but admire its pure beauty. It reminds me of Sylus because most judge him from what they’ve heard about him (like how we hear the flower is poisonous before even seeing it). However, when you get to know him, it’s clear his love is as pure and adoring as the innocent beauty of the flower.

The flower also has effects of delirium and hallucinations, usually used in rituals to symbolise transformation. This screams Sylus’ childhood, how he discovered his own identity and was hated for it.

On a cool note here, they’re an infamous flower, playing major roles in culture and religion - particularly Hinduism (we see you polyglot culture lover Sylus) and is a symbol of power. Something to be taken caution to. It’s a perfect representation of him, something terrifying, holding power to dominate, yet if you ignore those aspects there’s a beautiful pure love underneath.

Zayne - White Jasmines

Our K-drama male lead Zayne has the most positive flower here. He honestly deserves it, he deserves all the happiness tbh, poor guy. After timelines of suffering having a flower that has no negative connotations is the least he deserves.

Jasmines, generally, are a symbol of love, purity and romance with a new couple. White jasmines in particular put emphasis on new love between a couple, and the purity of the romance. As well as new beginnings, which we all know Zayne has had too many of those across his lives. It’s a giant indicator of peace as well, used to celebrate a new chapter in love. Considering all of Zayne’s suffering, the innocent love of white jasmines is the least he deserves.

It’s quite straightforward in regard to this flower, I hope this is representative that Zayne will find happiness with MC in this timeline… They deserve best :(

[theyluvivi]

IN THE DARK. C.S. ⇄ ◀ 𓊕 ▶ ↻

You and Chris aren't dating.

Quite frankly, you don't know what you are. It's blur between friends and dating and a secret third thing.

You like him. You're good together, but every single time you link, it's always.. messy, toxic even.

But, both of you go back every time. You can't get enough of each other, both ending back in each other's arms after whatever fling you guys had for the week.

This time, when you go back, it's different, Chris has never treated you like this before. But like.. in a good way.

Flowers on your doorstep every morning, hickeys on your neck that he just won't let fade, pet names being the only that he calls you. And it was good, the weeks that this went on for were good.

Until one day, you and Chris were stumbling drunk back to your place, sloppy hands all over each other. Kissing wherever skin was available.

"Feels good?" Chris rasps, and you nod. The stretch of him always leaving you waiting more. "Doing, so so good f'me— feels so good around me—"

You're so close, sweat gathering on your forehead, legs trembling, "Fuuck— Maddy—"

Your stomach churns. "What?" You can see the panic in Chris's eyes no matter how much he tries to hide it, "Huh?"

You quickly sit up, pushing off his hands that now feel like the dirtiest thing ever to you. "What did you just say?"

"I—" You don't let him finish, tears already threatening to escape your eyes. "Get the fuck out."

You've never felt so vulnerable in your life. Hopping in the shower as he gathered his things and aggressively scrubbing your skin clean.

Now you're here, drunk off your ass at a party because you don't know what else to do with yourself. Your friends haven't heard from you in weeks. You turned off your location a long time ago.

You'd actually rather die than have them see you all miserable over a guy.

You don't know anyone here, and that's a good thing. You can do whatever this hell you want and not have to deal with the consequences. And you're having a good time, a genuine good time until you see

Chris.

You bite your lip, attempting to wobble away from him. "Hey— c'mon—"

"I don't wanna talk to you," You hiccup, "Go be with Maddy." Chris's jaw clenches, "Please, just hear me out, okay?—"

"No! You made me feel disgusting, Chris— I've never felt so dirty in my entire life. Go be with the girl you want so bad."

He swallows hard, "I don't want her, I want you."

His words soothe the ache that's been on your soul for weeks. You can feel the nasty look that's on your face soften. And as much as you'd love to get back to the routine you and Chris have, it's impossible to let this go.

"Leave me alone. Seriously." You slur, pushing away from him. "M' not gonna compete with her for your love." He follows up, "Baby, I want you— I promise—"

"D-don't call me that," You stiffle a sob, "You looked at me like I was someone else, Chris." Your mascara begins to run, "Please, just leave me alone, I-I don't wanna see you ever again—"

you should be with him, I can't compete. you looked at me like I was someone else. joji, slow dancing in the dark, 1:03.

[greatwritenorth]

Some Thoughts On Sunrise on the Reaping & Haymitch Abernathy

I haven't written anything on any of my tumblr accounts in years. However, I had a shower thought that I simply had to shout into the void, in case anyone saw it too, and tumblr still seemed like the best form to do it.

So, like many people, I read Sunrise on the Reaping, and then immediately had to reread the entire Hunger Games universe. I took a while to get into Sunrise (I wasn't emotionally ready when it came out), so I've only just finished re-reading the first novel, and, of course, consuming any media that shows up on my accounts (usually Pinterest these days). As I was showering tonight, I started thinking about things, and had a bit of a moment that I had to share. So, here I am about to write a text post that's going to get so long no one will actually read it.

All through the original The Hunger Games series, the parallels between Haymitch and Katniss are endless. Katniss is the one who understands him in the arena. He and Katniss are both "difficult people", and of course, Peeta insists that Katniss is Haymitch's favourite. It's true, at this point in his life, Haymitch is more like Katniss. He understands her, some of her trauma, and her general wariness of people. If you love people, they can hurt you, and be used to hurt you. That is a lesson that, sadly, by this point, both Katniss and Haymitch have learned.

However, the Haymitch that we see in Sunrise on the Reaping, isn't Katniss. He isn't angry (at least not as much as Katniss is), or guarded. He doesn't struggle with people. Before the hunger games, Haymitch wasn't Katniss—he was Peeta.

Haymitch wanted his death to mean something; he wanted to end the hunger games, stick it to the captiol. For most of the games, Katniss just wanted to survive. Peeta was the one who was thinking about his identity, how the capitol was using them, and how he wanted to do something to stop that.

Haymitch understood almost immediately, once he was told, why he needed to play to the audience during his interviews, and he fell into his role as "the rake" easily. He was nervous, but he did it. Katniss, initially, couldn't play the charm game for the cameras before her interview to save her life (literally). Peeta knew exactly what he was going to do and how to play it.

Most importantly of all, Haymitch loved a girl with a beautiful singing voice (and did things her own way) more than his own life. He connected with Katniss. He understood her pain, and he couldn't help seeing Louella in her style (and, likely, her father who he once loved too). However, I think he empathized with Peeta. Haymitch would have lost his mind if Lenore Dove was in the games instead of him. And, in the second novel, when Peeta expresses frustration with having to pretend to love Katniss when he really loves Katniss, Haymitch can emphasize with his pain in a way that Katniss (who is still struggling with her feelings, and sees things in a black and white way more often then not) cannot. I'm sure he could imagine what it'd be like to play act a life with Lenore Dove, for The Capitol of all people, when she didn't seem to care for you (or so you think), but you love her "like all fire".

I also think that this, among other factors (the right time, and more support), is what made Katniss and Peeta "smarter or more lucky". Yes, Katniss became the face of the revolution, but she couldn't have done it without Peeta. Peeta brought what Haymitch already had in his games, and Katniss brought the survival instincts, the anger, that Haymitch has an an adult.

[lookingfts]

Phrase: I’ll be here

"I'll be here."

Kate didn't say anything as she hung up the phone. Something ached in her chest every time he said those words. The man who had broken her heart so irreparably all those years ago was now the only thing in her life that felt steady, sure, unbreakable.

And after months of Anthony just being there, ready to pick up the phone at two in the morning or run errands for her when Mary was in the hospital, Kate thought...

Maybe it was finally time to believe it.

“Why do you always do this?”

Anthony gave her a sheepish look, not seeming all that apologetic. The emerald necklace was absolutely above the gift limit they'd set for her birthday, but Kate was hardly even surprised. He was terrible at not spoiling the people he adored.

"Because I love you?"

Kate sighed, shaking her head a little exasperatedly, but she only turned around and swept her hair aside. "Then I forgive you."

secret relationship

"God, I've missed you."

The words were mumbled into her hair, and Kate shivered. Anthony's strong arms around her felt incredible. Right where she was supposed to be, and it killed her that she could only be there when they were able to sneak away from their families. Not nearly enough.

"How long?" she whispered, making a little noise in the back of her throat as his lips fell to her jaw, her neck, her shoulder.

"An hour at most."

Kate drew his face to hers, kissing him with an almost painful sort of longing. "Then let's not waste it."

It’s you isn’t it? There was never any other option

Of course.

She'd been so surprised to see Anthony at the restaurant where she was supposed to be meet her blind date, all dressed up in a suit and looking incredibly nervous. And then their eyes locked and suddenly, Kate knew exactly what scheming their siblings had done.

He approached her, looking similarly confused, and Kate could do nothing but laugh. "It's you, isn't it? My blind date?" His eyes widened in recognition, and Kate bit her lip. "There was never any other option."

Anthony groaned a little, surely feeling as stupid as she did for not catching on earlier. "I'm sorry about that. I'll take you home if you want, and I'll give them a lecture about staying out of our business-."

But Kate didn't want to go home. He looked amazing in the suit, and she'd gone through the trouble of getting dressed up, so she simply placed a hand on his arm to stop his rambling. "We're already here. Why not?"

[happy-lemon]

Non-Sims Interests

I was tagged by @papermint-airplane. Thanks, friend!

Dragon Age

Do I own the World of Thedas books and keep them on my coffee table? Yes. Do I love the RPG novels even though they're SO BAD? Yes. Do I have my own fanfiction in a folder on my computer? Yes. Do I have a Straight Outta Ferelden sticker on my Jeep? Yes. Has Cassandra made me question my sexuality and be mad that I can't romance her as a woman? Yes. I've bought several other games, hoping one of them will spark the same kind of love, but so far I have a stack of unplayed/unfinished games because there's nothing out there that can compare.

Sailing

Confession: I'm a lazy sailor. There's always so much to do on a sailboat that sometimes it feels like work, but once we're on a long tack and the boat is dialed in, there's nothing like. My husband is currently outfitting a boat for cruising (I'd say we, but let's be real, he's doing the work) and we're planning to go sailing in the Caribbean. We can't afford to just drop out of life and do nothing else, so we'll both be working remotely. That works out kind of perfectly since we have aging parents and a dog who can't go with us because she's an absolute menace to society.

Camping

There was a time in my life that if you'd have told me I would love camping, I would have laughed at the very idea of sleeping in a tent on the ground. But during the pandemic my son outfitted his old Jeep Wrangler for overland camping, and went on a yearlong, multi-continent road trip adventure. He inspired me so much that I bought my own old Jeep and started camping locally. I had this cool fantasy about going on a mini road trip with my dog, but again, she's an absolute menace to society and struggles with the fact that there's no indoors when camping.

Talaria

She's 50% border collie and the other half of her is a toxic stew of heeler, husky, and cur. She has extreme anxiety that no medication has been able to ease. She's leash reactive, overprotective, and has zero interest in normal things like dog parks, fetch, or playing with toys. But she's utterly devoted to me and woe betide anyone who tries to come between us.

(She's on the left. The foxhound on the right was a foster who tried desperately to get her to love him.)

This is starting to get long so I'll end it here. Tagging @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants @sweetnovember77 @cinamun and anyone who wants to do this. Ignore me if you've done it or don't want to do it.

[fafodill]

Hi! I'm new to your blog and really enjoying scrolling through it ☺️ I was wondering if you have a list of fanfic recommendations anywhere? I like your take on Snape as a character and I feel like your taste in fanfic would be impeccable. No worries if you'd rather not share though! 💛

You're so sweet, thank you! I've been back in the fandom for just a little while so I'll update this as I go but you can consider this my fanfic masterpost for now. If you like some share it with me in the comments and give the authors a kudo and a little review! <3

Severus stuff

The War of the Roses (ongoing, not yet but oh mama such sexual tension), Snirius with a Sirius POV, taking place during OotP. Sirius characterization is breathtaking: he is really fucked up after Azkaban (which I love) and we get a good look at his family trauma, his unrequited love for James and his tangled feelings about Snape. The author paints with words. It's deeply scarred, human and beautiful. I cannot tell you how obsessed I am with it.

Second Life (completed, a little smutty). Snirius post-war AU where they both live. One chapter but you will travel through time and space and clench at your chest. It's a messy (oh so messy but so beautiful) journey through life and love. You may cry. Maybe several times. You'll be ruined changed at the end of it but deeply happy.

A Patchwork Family (completed), Severitus, takes place during PoA, Draco is involved too. Amazing fic that really dives into Harry as a victim of abuse and neglect under the Dursley's care. The slow shift of dynamics is super interesting, touching and realistic. I cried a few times too, especially at the end. There's a few chapters in Severus's POV posted separately that I adore as well and a sequel.

Fate set Right (completed, implied), Snamione where she goes back in time to the Maraudeur era and I absolutely loved their Hogwarts years (the 15 first chapters). It’s very long (full re-write of the story). Very much a ‘if he had better people around him, this is what his life could have looked like’. Very impressive storytelling, some amazing ideas. Also Dumbledore is a insufferable. But brace yourself for a saga.

I'll be your Doll (completed, smut fest). Post-war Snamione. Snape got his life - and dating life - together after the war and has found a good equilibrium in his sex life. But now, there's Hermione and something hits different. You wanna blush? I sure did. Great fic which explores non-monogamous dynamics and kinky stuff.

Cursed into Temptation (completed, solo deprived smut) Solo Snape. He knows something is happening with this new colleague of his but he couldn't bring himself to follow her back to her room. Now he's alone in his quarters and can't sleep... This fic actually fueled my adoration for deprived!Snape. I love it, he's so ashamed and needy. Many sexy ideas.

Rare pairs

Spoonful of Sugar in a Nice Cold Cup of Revenge (completed), Fleamont Potter/Severus Snape… yes. Yes I know, but it’s so good. Basically teen!Snape meets Fleamont-Daddy-Green-Flag-Potter and it’s amazing I swear. No more comments your Honor, I wanted 10 more chapters.

Premature Eulogy (ongoing, a week of smut). Lucius/Severus/Narcissa. Post-war AU where Severus is supposed to appear in front of the Wizengamot under Veritaserum to defend Lucius's allegiances during the war. The line of defense? The three of them were lover back then. That's not true, but it will have to be... they have a week to make memories. Severus is extremely inexperienced but we get a super touching depiction of a healthy three way dynamic, full of smut and love. I adore them like this, you won't regret it.

Difficult to Work With (completed, metamorphmagi smut). Tonks/Moody. I will die on this hill, they're great together. Here, have a very touching (and also smutty) little fic where they're super fun and have such a great chemistry. Super cool ideas about Tonk's metamorphmagi powers. Alastor is an open-minded respectful king.

[withnailrules]

Björk by Laura Levine, 1991, Woodstock "I'm often asked if I have a favorite photo and I can say without hesitation that it's this one right here. All of the elements combined to make it one of my favorite moments as a photographer, and it happened purely by chance. I met Björk the night before when she invited herself along and joined some friends and me for a late night pool game up in Woodstock. At the time she was upstate recording with the Sugarcubes. I was already a fan, and had always wanted to photograph her, and when I asked her if I could she said sure. Just like that. We'd been talking all night, she trusted me, and I guess that was all she needed to go on.

The next day I picked her up and brought her to my friend Ben's house, who helped out as my assistant for the shoot. I knew he had a lovely forest glade behind his house and I thought the setting fit in nicely with her freespiritedness. As happens often in shoots I've done (don't ask me why), she gradually began to to shed her clothes. I picked out a couple of oversized leaves (a la Eve in the Garden of Eden) and she stepped onto a large boulder. At that moment it started to drizzle, she stood on tippy-toe and opened her mouth to catch a raindrop on her tongue. Click.

Having spent a long time talking with her the night before I felt this image really captured her essence - a woodland sprite, a free spirit, playful, earthy, and open. (Some other reasons why this is a favorite? No makeup artists, no stylists, no trendy fashions, no managers, no publicists, no record label politics, no artificial lighting, no gimmicks, no self-conciousness. Just natural light, some foliage, and Björk)"