#like i started working on it friday i think

[leqonsluv3r]

hiii!! May i ask for a first date with Leon with a fem reader? Thanks!

bed chem

—re!4 leon kennedy x fem!reader

—a oneshot (request)

warnings: MDNI, 18+, some swearing, readers ex being a dick, leon charming it up on the first date, sweet but passionate seggsy time bc i say so, unprotected pnv, nicknames; baby, sweet girl, honey, heavy making out on the first date (it happens), reader being a horny mess over leon (relatable honestly), and a bunch of other shit.

“she had been weighing the pros and cons of doing this for the past three days. it was the nerves of getting back out there after being in a shitty relationship, that were getting to her. she wanted to move on from that. but still…was this the best idea? she couldn’t just forget about her ex? right? she needed to but something — maybe anxiety — was clawing at her guts. she sat in the restaurant again that they were supposed to meet at, a blind date of all things. she was never this…bold. never this much of a risk taker. but she needed this, she cant remember the last time she had — “is this seat taken?” she is snapped out of her thoughts as she looks up and sees the most handsome man she’s probably ever laid eyes on. her ex boyfriend didn’t even compare by a long shot. she looked at him like a gaped fish, “uhm…no…it’s not…” she blubbers out. she was in for it.”

— or reader meets leon on a blind date and thinks maybe her ex breaking up with her wasn’t such a bad thing

masterlist taglist prompt game

an: i’m sorry this took me so long to get up. hope this is what you had in mind, anon.🩷🩷

she didn’t think this was a good idea.

not in the slightest, she had been single for only three months. she wasn’t waiting to long right? no, she wasn’t. she could do this.

even if her gut was screaming at her to do something differently, to run out of this restaurant and away from her blind date that was setup.

she wanted to run.

she stared at her wineglass of water, taking a small sip of it. she sighs softly, looking at her phone. he was five minutes late. did she get stood up? did he see her then turn around and leave? she swallowed and tried to not jump to conclusions. that probably wasn’t the case.

she hated that she was back to square one, if only her ex hadn’t dumped her right before christmas. she felt like she was stuck, having dated her ex for two years, she felt so out of the game with flirting. she was just going on this date to humor her friends, they said she was moping, said she needed to stop eating ice cream in her sweats on friday nights.

she had to agree, she needed to start going on dates…but blind ones? set up by her friends? not the smartest idea.

but they had told her to trust them. so she was, even though she felt like her heart was beating out of her chest.

she couldn’t do this, she was going to get up and leave, go right back to her apartment and —

“is this seat taken?” she hears a voice drawl from behind her shoulder. she swallowed, her insides melting like jello just at the four simple words this man had uttered. she tries to find words as he quickly rounds the table and sits down opposite from her. it’s like her eyes and brain are working faster then her mouth is, taking him all in. he was so beautiful, so…god, she didn’t even have a word for what he was.

she finally found some words and opened her mouth, “uhh, your…uhh…” she takes a deep breath and tries again, “your my blind date?” she finds herself saying. it came out more quiet and feeble then she would’ve liked but in this mans presence she’s lucky she wasn’t a puddle on the floor already.

he nods with a small subtle quirk of his lips, “leon kennedy.” he says as he grabs the menu, his eyes scanning over her for a quick second then averting to the specials on the sheet in front of him. she ducked her head down to look at her own menu, trying to seem focused on it when in hindsight, she wanted to ask where the cameras were. she was obviously being pranked. right?

she looks up from her menu and chances a look at leon again, she smiles softly and nervously when he catches her stare. he puts his menu down slowly against the table and looks at her. “are you going to tell me your name?” he says with a small teasing brow raise. she chuckles softly, averting her eyes and then looking back at him before saying her name softly. he hums in acknowledgment, his lips quirking up again. “cute name.”

jesus, fuck the dinner. she could just jump his bones right now.

the waiter doesn’t giver her a chance though and comes by to take their orders for drinks and appetizers. leon looks back at her, his blue eyes burning deeply into her soul as if trying to read her from across the table. “so why are you not on the dating apps?” is the first question he asks her. she blinks at him dumbly for a moment, trying to process his question. “uhm…i just got out of a relationship in december. i didn’t really feel like joining when all guys on there are all looking for the same thing.” she manages to say with a surprisingly confident tone.

he nods slowly as if understanding, “i get it.’ he says as he sips on his own glass of water. “so your not like a commitment-phobe or anything?” he says as he looks at her, folding his hands on the table. she chuckles and shakes her head, her eyes briefly darting down to his hands on the table and then back up to him. “no, i’m the opposite. me and my ex were together for two years.”

he shakes his head, “must’ve been an idiot to let someone as beautiful as you go.”

she feels her cheeks heat up a little under the dim lighting of the restaurant, “he just…wasn’t feeling it anymore.” she says with a small nervous smile, “it happens.” he scoffs and his blue eyes darken for a second. “if he was really for you, sweetheart, trust me. he wouldn’t just stop feeling it.” he says with a small grimace. almost looking in pain for her, like he hated what he was hearing.

“why are you on a blind date then?” she says softly to him, trying to desperately change the subject. he sighs and leans back in his chair a little, looking at her, “i’m sick of bouncing around.” he says as he looks at her, his tone less teasing and more serious. “going from girl to girl…its not what i want. im not happy that way.” he says with a small glance at her.

she nods slowly in understanding as he talked, acknowledging his words. the waiter came and sat their drinks down in front of them, putting a brief pause on the conversation. his drink — a whiskey on the rocks, hers — a simple dr pepper. he notices the lack of alcohol but decides to wait until the waiter is done taking their orders. once, the waiter walks away, he nods towards her soda, “a dr pepper? no alcohol?” he says with another raise of his eyebrow.

“i doin’t like drinking on the first date.” she says as she looks at him then his drink, “you obviously don’t mind that.” her tone and edge of sarcasm as she sips on her drink pepper again. he chuckles lowly and shakes his head, his ash blonde hair moving with him, “giving me shit now for my drink choice?”

“yeah, you gave me shit for mine. don’t think i didn’t notice.” she says as she sits back a little in her own seat across from him, crossing her legs beneath the table.

they continue talking for hours, eating their food and sipping on their drinks as they talk. this was going better then she had planned, learning more about leon then she intended. he didn’t seem like the talkative type but when they started discussing jobs, past pets, family, really anything. he seemed to open up and tell her pretty much whatever she wanted to know.

after they finished eating, she went to order dessert but he stopped her. “i have dessert at my place.’” which made her stop, the rush of butterflies and nerves at his words was enough to make her nod, close the dessert menu and request the check.

which he paid, in full, with…a platinum credit card.

she knew he was working for the government but jesus, he just whipped out the platinum to pay for their meal. she felt measly with her silly little plastic card in her purse, letting him escort her out the restaurant. they walked down the sidewalk until they get to a sleek black escalade. “did you drive here?” he says as he digs his keys out of his jacket pocket. she looks at him and then the car, “yeah, i did.”

“how about…at the risk of sounding too forward, you come home with me? stay the night, you can take the bed if you want and…i’ll drop out back off at your car in the morning?” he says with a small tilt of his head, his blondish hair flopping by his ear as she looks at him. a small smile graced his features, she let out a small breath, turning the thoughts of potentially doing this in her head.

she nodded with a small smile on her face, “i would love too.”

he nods towards the escalade, “cmon,” he unlocks the escalade and opens the passenger door for her. she hesitantly moves forward and slides into the passenger seat, looking around the interior of the car. she was in awe, shed never been in a car this…big before. also, it made her wonder.

leon wasn’t flaunting his wealth, he didn’t even seem to mind that he was somewhat wealthy. it made her have even more questions about him. they didn’t seem to end the more she spent time with him. was he not aware of how fortunate he was?

she was torn away from her thoughts when leon got into the drivers side of the car. looking over at her with a small smirk, “what?”

“you drive an escalade.” she states with a small blink, he shrugs and chuckles a little, almost finding it humorous. “so?”

he doesn’t realize this does he? good god, he’s a humble guy. why is that such a fucking turn on?

“it’s just…the escalade, the platinum card…?” she says with a small blubber as she looks at him, “your rich.” she states with little to no care for how it sounded. he chuckles and shakes his head, “yeah? im not too bad, i’ve got money.” he says with a small flush of his cheeks as he puts the keys in the ignition. she rolls her eyes, of course he’s not going to admit it.

he starts the car, carefully pulling out of the parking spot. she swallows as she watches his hands from the passenger seat, the way his large hands encompass the steering wheel and turn it. she’s watching, almost drooling at how his veins in his hands. she sees him look over at her and she quickly darts her eyes away from basically eye-fucking his hands.

they were just…fuck, the things she would let those hands do to her.

he smirks in her peripheral vision, sliding one of his hands over the console and to the exposed knee of her dress, slowly squeezing it. she swallows, the touch was somewhat innocent but causing a herd of butterflies to swarm her stomach. she felt her underwear get uncomfortable already. she lets out a small shaky exhale, trying to act nonchalant.

she was so fucked.

she surprisingly made it back to his apartment in one piece. he was acting like a gentleman, even with his hand on her knee, keeping a steady hold on it as he drove. he didn’t raise his hand higher, a part of her wished he would’ve.

but he kept it on her knee, his whole hand practically engulfed that skin on her leg. she watched him drive out of the corner of her eye, studying him like a painting.

he was so gorgeous, even in the dim light of the streetlights. she was fully focused on him, his eyelashes, the way his eyes carefully and precisely watched the road.

the way he kept his lips — pink and full — pressed together as he studied every other car around them. he wasn’t afraid, he was focused. she wondered if he always focused on things like this, or if he was just like this when he drove.

but his attention seemed divided, one hand on her leg, his thumb even moving in small circles on her knee. she didn’t know how he did it all at once, all with ease. it was like he was handcrafted by some god, some amazing grace. she just couldn’t figure him out.

but it intrigued her.

even when he made it to his apartment, parking outside the building and pulling the keys out of the escalades ignition.

he moved with such precision and confidence, like he knew his next move before he made it. like he had a plan for every step he took. she wishes that she had that grace about her, she was clumsy and not put together at all.

but when they get out of the car, making their way to the doors of the lobby, he was holding onto her hand tightly. his hand engulfing hers as they walked. she liked the way his hand fit into hers, like it belonged that way. like it was meant to hold hers. she tries to fight the butterflies and the very obvious tension as they make their way to the elevator in the lobby.

once the elevator dings and they make their way into the elevator, she feels hotter, like the sexual tension of what’s to come is taking up all the air. she squeezes his hand a little, she feels his blue irises travel to her and stay there. he must’ve lived on the top floor, because they stood there for a moment. his free hand traveling up to her hair, pushing it away from her face.

“there’s those beautiful eyes.” he whispers, it sounded like he was saying it more to himself rather then her. her cheeks flushed all the same, connecting her own with his, a small smile sliding onto her lips. “i have beautiful eyes?” she whispers to him, almost afraid to break the spell, the tension that was slowly building as they got closer to his apartment.

he smirks slowly to himself, saying a little louder, “your eyes aren’t the only beautiful thing about you.” he says as he pushes more hair away from her face with his free hand, sliding his hand into her hair and holding it there. a small breath leaving her lips, letting them part as she looked up at him from under her eyelashes. this man was something else, making her act out on the first date. which she never did.

“look at you,” he whispers, “such a good girl, you look so pretty.” he praises lowly, still holding her hair at the base of her skull in a tight fist. he was forcing her to look up at him, she didn’t even hate how her underwear flooded with need for him — for his hands. she just accepts the praise with a small embarrassed smile. she didn’t know how else to react, no guy had ever praised her so openly, called her beautiful.

her ex, he took her out on dates and the sex wasn’t too bad. but he never showed her off, loved her openly, made her feel special. that was the ultimate lead up to him leaving her for some girl he didn’t even know.

and it broke her, she never thought she’d feel that way again.

but here, with leon, she felt that familiar want. that need to be his and his only.

and god, was it terrifying. he was such a good guy, so attractive. she was so afraid that she’d screw it up in some way.

but it’s better to say she tried and failed rather then give up altogether.

the elevator dinger for his floor, pulling her out of her thoughts and snapping her eyes back up to his. she felt his h=free hand slowly leave her hair and his hand with hers, pulling on it towards the hallway outside the elevator. her stomach was a mess of knots and nerves as she followed him. her eyes taking in the surroundings around her, letting him practically drag her to his apartment.

and as soon as she was inside of his apartment, his lips were on hers and she was getting pushed up against a door. the first thing she registers is how amazing his lips are and how they feel against hers. she feels like her legs are going to give out under her, her lips meld with his. everything is happening so fast and her brain doesn’t have time to catch up to all of it.

before she knows it, he’s carrying her into his apartment, kissing every inch of her neck and jaw with his tongue and teeth. she lets out small sounds as he kisses her in spots that haven’t been touched in months. he puts her down onto the bed, hovering over her as his blue eyes meet hers. he looks so haunting in the moonlight. his sharp jawline and features, the way his cheekbones reflect in the moonlight thats streaming through the window.

“i normally don’t do this on the first date but your just…” he runs his fingers over the side of her thigh, making her dress pool up to her hips, “so fucking beautiful.” he whispers between them, like its a secret. she feels her cheeks flush nonetheless. she feels his hand slide up her thigh to the edge of her underwear, lace that she put on and didn’t even anticipate this happening. she feels her breath quicken and her spine straighten under his touch.

he’s so methodical with his movements and it makes her think, the contrast difference between her ex and him. he’s so gentle, like she’s made of glass beneath his fingertips. her ex never had that, rough and demanding movements. she draws the difference as leon’s fingers slowly pull the lacy fabric down her thighs. she keeps wondering why his fingers and hands seem so calloused, she should have asked earlier at dinner, not when he’s exposing her to the cool air of his bedroom.

she exhales as her lacy underwear are tossed to the floor, suddenly his jacket is coming off and he’s rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. she can only let her eyes trace the way his biceps are practically straining underneath the confines of his dress shirt, the way they flex when he grabs her ankles and drags her to the end of his bed. she feels her heart beat almost entirely out of her chest.

she can’t help it, she’s a soaking mess by now and the fact he can see that by looking in between her thighs is enough to make her cheeks heat up. she closes her thighs, pressing them together. he chuckles low in his throat as he looks down at her, “don’t hide from me. cmon.” he says as his blue eyes seem to darken under the harsh moonlight coming into his bedroom.

he gently opens her thighs, letting himself glance at her glistening arousal. “so wet already?” he says it as if its more of a statement, rather than a question. she nods under his gaze as if he has all the power over her right now and in a way, he does. and he knows it. “this all for me?” he says with an almost haunting smirk on his features that it causes her to sharply inhale. she nods again and feels her chest rise and fall beneath her dress.

“your boosting my ego too much, baby.” he says as he crawls over her, his hands bracing on either side of her head, he leans down so he’s nose to nose with her. his blue eyes almost blown out with lust for her, she recalls never being looked at this way by her ex. even when they had sex, he refused the intimate side and made her go face down in the pillows. but leon, he’s devouring her with his eyes right now and it almost makes her cry, but she doesn’t.

“what’s wrong? did i do something wrong?” he asks when he sees her eyes become glassy, surely he knows. he has a feeling that he maybe rushed it. should’ve let you go home after the date but…you looked sad. he cups her chin, looking down into her eyes. that action seems to make it harder for her to speak but she forces words out of her mouth. “my ex…he never…” she swallows more tears down her throat.

he watches her expression so closely — so methodically — that he’s afraid if he blinks, he’ll miss something. but he lets her speak, his hand slowly cupping her cheek, rubbing his thumb over cheek in a soothing gesture. even though he’s hard as steel right now and her pussy is out in the open, he is solely focused on how she feels right now. she notes in her brain that this is another reason why she likes leon so much already.

but she forces herself to finish her thoughts, “my ex never…he never…” she chokes on the words again. she realizes that it sounds stupid coming out of her mouth now, she almost wants to push it to the side and jump leon’s bones. but he’s not going to let it go until he knows she’s okay. “he never looked me in the eye, never…he wasn’t gentle.” she whispers as she looks up at him. she feels choked up and she hates how silly she sounds. like a hurt little girl who skinned her knee.

he sighs softly against her lips and brushes some tears from the crevice of her eye. he understands what she’s saying, her ex wasn’t intimate. didn’t take his time with her, didn’t put her needs first and that just doesn’t sit right with him one bit. in fact, it bothers him beyond recognition. how could someone just abandon their partners needs, the need to be validated and be intimate? he couldn’t change that for her but he could show her that he wasn’t like her exes.

“im not like that, princess. you know that by now don’t you?” he whispers against her lips as he gently brushes some hair out of her face. she nods almost immediately, “i know.” she says against his lips, solidifying that she knows. he could not even be compared to her ex, not even close. leon was far better than him and she’s only known leon for like five hours.

“good. now, im going to fuck you now. but listen,” he gently grabs her chin, a firm but soft hold as he angles her eyes to his. “i am going to take my time with you because you deserve that. you deserve to be loved and cherished.” he says softly with a small hint of compassion in his blue irises as he strokes his hand up and down her dress clad side. “and i am not going to let you look away, your going to look at me the entire time.” he says with a firm but rugged gentleness that suited him down to his very core.

she just nods slowly in his grip, that being the only thing she can do with his grip on her chin. he smiles — a little twitch of his lips — making him seem ten times more softer then he actually is. he leans back on the bed on his knees, looking down at her. “off.” he gestures to the dress thats still covering her. she swallows and sits up on his bed, slowly and methodically shimming the dress off of her frame.

once it’s gone and on the floor with her discarded lace underwear, she plays with the strap on her matching bra. he puts his large and calloused hand over hers, stopping her. “let me.” he mutters as he moved on his bed behind her, his fingers slowly tracing along her shoulder and going to the bra strap. he hovers his mouth over neck, his other hand brushing her hair away from her back, pressing his lips to her neck with such delicacy. she feels like she would miss it if she couldn’t feel his fingers slide down to the clasp of her lacy bra.

and once it’s discarded, he finds himself hoisting her backwards onto the mattress again. his lips finding hers in a sweet but delicate kiss that says — i have you, trust me. and she does, she finds herself trusting him as his hands hold her gently but firmly, a strong hold that weighs on her heart and mind.

she looks up at him through lustful eyes two moments later, her gaze locking on his as he strips off his pants and shirt, discarding them all on the floor. the body of a greek god, yet littered with small scars that catch in the moonlight. she thinks that maybe he has his own demons, the ones that haunt him when he goes to bed at night.

but she doesn’t have time to wonder, his cock, if not perfect like the rest of him. is now out, his hand slowly stroking the hard shaft for some semblance of relief. she gnaws on her bottom lip as she watches him, she was completely and utterly soaked now.

she didn’t know how much longer she could last. she needed him.

he didn’t wait long to lean over her body, his elbows on either side of her head, much like before. his nose brushing against hers and she was bare as him. it should’ve made her nervous, made her scared beyond anything. but she didn’t have it in her to be scared, not when he was eyeing her like she was the holy grail.

he pressed another kiss to her lips, a little more rough this time, his tongue prodding at her mouth. begging for him to be let in. and how could she not oblige him? she let him in and he swirled his tongue with hers, her brain on autopilot and the conversation about her ex was long gone. the furthest thing from her mind at this point.

it was just him. his mouth and hers, the way his cock barely brushed against her soaked folds. she parted her knees more for him, accommodating his wide frame as he let a hand drift down to her hip, squeezing it as they sloppy made out.

a small moan slipped past her lips and onto his, his large hand kneading the extra fat of her hip and thigh and slowly he moved his hand in between them, brushing over her clit slowly. her breath caught a little and she couldn’t find words, she was wrecked already.

he chuckled lowly against her lips, words not exchanged as he guided his bulbous tip though her folds. soaking his tip in her release and making her tremble, small squeaks of arousal leaving her parted lips.

he found it amusing, if the expression on his face was any indication.

he silenced her again with a smooth press of hiss lips against her’s, soothing her worries and the small amount of anticipation she felt. he slipped just the tip inside of her, breaching her entrance. she gasped against his lips, he was big. it was just the tip and she was keening. practically clawing at his bare back. he pressed his lips more firmly against hers, sliding in another inch, his thumb rubbing circles at her hip.

as he eased in inch by inch, she tried to focus on his kisses rather then how much he was stuffing her full inch by torturous inch. it felt like her body was buzzing, it was too much and not enough at the same time. she moaned softly when he slid in the rest of the way, she opened her mouth against his. she couldn’t handle it anymore. she lets out a shaky breath.

her hands held tighter to his back as he slowly moved his hips against hers. his hand squeezing hard at her hip enough to bruise but she couldn’t find it in herself to care as he slowly moved his hips, moving in and out of her. she bit on her bottom lip, almost drawing blood as his head dipped into her neck. she choked on moan after moan as he groaned and grunted against her neck, matching her noises in his own ways.

she let her nails sink into his back as he pumped his hips a little faster. her head fell back against his sheets, her lips parted, eyes shutting in ecstasy as he started hitting that spot within her repeatedly. she wasn’t going to last long if he kept it up, his harsh groans and breaths echoing along her neck and up into her ear. his lips pressing harshly to the skin. every time her nails dug into his bare back, he bit a little at her skin.

the pleasure and pain was intoxicating as he kept moving his hips, making her whimper and whine. she tried to speak but her words were caught and mumbles of pleasure were the only things to leave her parted lips. her expression wiped and dazed with lust as she took everything he gave her. never in her life had she felt this way with sex. she felt like she was floating and grounded at the same time.

she felt her stomach coil, knowing she was close to climax. she wordlessly moved one of her hands from his back into his dirty blonde locks, pulling his head out of her neck and pressing her lips to his. he just smirked against her lips and moved his hips a little faster, seeming to understand what she meant without words. she moaned louder against his lips as he pumped faster and faster, her head felt dizzy. her head dropped back against his sheets again, not enough energy to keep her lips locked with his.

“thats it baby, come for me. c’mon.” he growls as he nips at her neck, his hand sliding from her hip to her clit. rubbing it with small brushes of his thumb, she squeaked as she looked up at the ceiling. her eyes glazed over as the coil in her belly finally snapped. “fuck, your…squeezing me like a vice.” he muttered in a groan. he felt her spasm around him, his hips slowing as he fucked her through it.

he fucked her through it until she was squirming, he moved his hand off her clit. determined to chase his own release as he moved his hips again. he pressed his chest against hers and gripped her hip again. she let out a shaky gasp as he started moving again. her eyes watering at the overstimulation she was feeling in the moment. “shh, its…i’m close, baby. just hang on.” he grunts against her collarbones as he keeps moving his hips. she squeezed him a little again and he hissed.

she nods with a small whine as he pumps a little faster, practically shaking his bed. she was wondering if it was going to break but it didn’t seem like it would. his hips stuttering as he bit into her collarbone, she gasped in pleasure as she felt his spend fill her up and fill her belly. she blinked at the ceiling as he sighed against her collarbone. letting himself be vulnerable for a moment in the aftermath of their bliss. he just kept her filled with his cock, rubbing a hand up and down her side. his mouth gently pressing a kiss to one of her breasts. “your amazing.” he whispers as his eyes shut and he breathes some air into his lungs.

she felt his words deep down to her very soul as he pulled out of her, a small noise of loss as he removed himself from her snug walls. he laid down on his side next to her, sliding a hand down her stomach and to her entrance again. his spend mixed with hers was leaking out of her abused hole, his finger scooped up the fluid and pushed it back inside of her.

his eyes flaring with that possessive nature. he drifts his blue eyes to her blissed out face. he removes his finger from her entrance and traces it up to her jaw. he gently cups her chin and smoothes his thumb over her bottom lip. “good?” he whispers gruffly as he scans her expression. she smiles dazedly and nods as she looks up at him. it wasn’t how she imagined the night going but getting to here, it was good. leon unintentionally was making her move on from the slump her ex put her in. she couldn’t be more grateful.

he smiles crookedly, almost shyly, as if he didn’t just fuck her raw into his mattress.

“stay the night. i make good breakfast.” he says softly with a small chuckle, the boyish charm peeking out from his hard facade he had up. she nods with a small giddy smile, “only if you make me pancakes.” she whispers as her eyes stay locked on his blue ones. he was truly a sight to behold. every part of him was and she didn’t know how he could be single. she had to wonder if maybe he chose that for himself, for what reason? she didn’t know. he was a great guy.

an amazing kisser. funny, great in bed. the list kept going.

but he was nothing like her ex, that was the best thing about him. he wasn’t selfish, conceded and rude. maybe leon was the perfect one for her. maybe he wasn’t but she was trusting her gut this time. and her gut was telling her to stay, to let herself be coddled and be held like something precious. she was letting herself be happy for once and only time would tell if they were meant to be.

even if it was the first date, she was in love. silly, but true as she gently cupped his cheek and pulled his lips to hers again. she felt connected to him in more ways then one. she was diving headfirst into him and she didn’t even care. she was happy.

and thats all that truly mattered.

screw it only being the first date, she was his now. and that was a comforting thought as she slipped her arms around him again and breathed him in. this is what love was, or close to it, she was sure. his arms already felt like home, no matter how dangerous that was, it was hers.

and his, as it should be. forevermore. wrapped in each other, no matter what.

exes be damned.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @squazmine @spfoah @jmivenus @rcttendolly @yakamozhoez (if you would like to join my taglist, visit the link at the beginning or the one linked on my blog!)

[h-sleepingirl]

Dolly in the Art Gallery: A Charmed 2025 Scene Log/Recap

“Art is how we decorate space, and music is how we decorate time.”

I first heard this Jean-Michel Basquiat quote in a rope class from Barkas, in the context of how we play within both space and time in a kink scene. I think about it frequently, especially as I feel more and more passionately about the brutally human impulse to create art.

I have been coming to hypnosis events since 2013, before Charmed existed -- my first event was packed with my own manic energy, held in a dungeon where people could hypnotize me basically at will. No hotel staff, no sneaking back to a private room. I developed a reputation as an aesthetically pleasing subject, often put on display in subtle and overt ways.

I have grown up in this community. Essentially my entire adult life has been spent involved in going to events and cons. I'm 33 now, and as Charmed celebrates its 10th year I've perhaps been unconsciously influenced to reflect on myself aging.

I feel so much older than that 21 year old exhibitionist. I'm more reserved, quieter, more selective, and certainly smarter. I like who I'm becoming, but I do miss parts of who I used to be -- that confidence, that energy. 

On Friday evening I looked at the schedule and saw there was going to be a Gallery of Living Art -- it's been a staple at Charmed for a number of years, but I'd never done more than peek inside.

I thought to myself: “Why not try to get in touch with that playful younger self? Why not show everyone who I am nowadays? Why not live out a fantasy?” 

Surely I’m not too old. Surely I haven’t grown out of this.

The time comes and I connect with my partner about it. He knows that one of my absolute favorite things is being totally frozen. We decide against anything complicated. No one will touch me or trigger me or anything like that. It’s the most “negotiating” we've maybe ever done, but I still leave all details to him. I tell him: “I was really just thinking this is an opportunity for me to sit blank and still for a long time.”

We walk into the room, and it’s overwhelming. People are setting up intricate exhibits with lots of creative interactions. There is a sheet we need to fill out to describe what our “art” is, which my partner writes on cryptically.

“Dolly can't talk. Duh…”

“Dolly is precious -- don't touch!”

Under “Artist”, where he is meant to put his name, he writes a question mark.

I am so in love with him, watching his mind work on the spot.

We find a place in the loud room and look at each other. We are a fluid force of nature in a bed together, spontaneous and wild. This planning doesn't feel like us. This hypnosis isn't a formality, per se, but it just feels sort of like “We both know how this is going to end on some level -- so how do we spend this time?”

He gingerly removes my name tag and starts murmuring to me. 

Being a dolly is such a luxurious treat that the moment he suggests it, I crumble, gripping his shirt with my weak little fingers, moaning too softly to be heard by anyone but him.

He poses me. He fixes my gaze blank and forward. He lets me practice standing and sitting. This kind of rehearsal is unfamiliar for us, and I almost relish doing something that feels a little awkward.

I am a dolly when he leaves me, frozen and posed, but I know it is going to take a couple minutes to settle in. I am a dolly getting comfortable, a dolly with twinges of self-consciousness. After a couple minutes he walks me over to a different chair, one that is highlighted by empty space around it, and I sit, and I know this is truly where I am supposed to be on display.

Finally, total stillness rushes over me like pure relief. 

I sit, and I stare, and I don’t do anything else. My mind is blank, and sometimes all there is inside my head is “I’m a dolly, I’m a dolly,” in my little dolly voice. It is pure, simple bliss.

People begin to come up to me to look at me. I am a good dolly and I am silent and I do not move even my eyes. They patiently read my sign and then observe me. I cannot change my body position to be any more or less appealing to them, I cannot hide nor flaunt myself.

Some people say things to me, little compliments and appreciations, and I can’t really process their words. The little dolly voice in my head screams in pleasure when I’m spoken to and given attention.

I have ADHD, I’m addicted to my phone, I’m a fidgeter. But there is nothing that carries the unique pleasure of being frozen and still. It reminds me of Quaker meetings, of spiritual silence and meditation that makes one feel time itself as though it has a sensory texture.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel talks about the Jewish sabbath as proof that it is not intuitive for us to sanctify time. But nevertheless as Jews we must learn to do it to make shabbat holy every week. Shabbat is “a cathedral in time,” he says, and I’ve been thinking about how much that applies to my experience of hypnosis. Hypnosis is not a physical object. We may sometimes have props but we cannot touch trance and it leaves no marks. It is time that is the sacred dimension in hypnosis, the time that we set aside (“kadosh” in Hebrew) with another human being.

Heschel says we are slaves to space and material things. And in this moment I feel like I have gotten as close as I can to releasing that. I am not even moving my physical body within the physical world. I am just relishing each passing second of stillness, building my cathedral in time.

Of course, sometimes I think sacred space and objects are very important. After all, I am in a space that is incredibly rare, that only exists very briefly, that I had to travel at length to get to.

And I am an object -- art -- inside of it. I am literally decorating the space, as Basquiat would say.

Am I thinking all of this as I sit there motionless? No, not with any sophistication. I truly feel blank. But I am feeling flashes of this as abstract mental sensations that I will untangle later.

Something else strikes me very quickly that I observe within. When people walk up to look at me, something inside me tenses up. I realize that I am unconsciously preparing myself to talk to them. I have been coming to cons for so long, and especially since beginning to write books I always meet a ton of new people every year who come up to me to talk, which I adore. But right now I am in a space where I literally cannot have a conversation with anyone. I don’t even have my nametag on anymore -- my partner was so clever to remove it.

It is the opposite of vending books, where I sit in a chair and am helpless in the sense that I must engage in conversation with the people who come up to meet me. Now, I literally cannot talk to anyone, and they cannot talk to me, and most people may not even know who I am.

It is a hit of extreme objectification, more real than it has ever felt. I am not sleepingirl -- I am a dolly. “Who” I am doesn’t matter. I am art.

My partner also is not sitting there receiving compliments for me. He is nearby, in eyesight, just watching. But he’s anonymous too. And there is something about this mutual anonymity that makes me feel even prouder about us as a couple. There is no performance of who we are. I don’t know how to describe it, but obviously it feels more authentic than public play usually ever does. Like a little secret we are sharing a corner of.

And he looks ever the artist, sitting back and watching me. I feel very strongly that this little scene isn’t the art -- it’s me. Our relationship is what’s really on display. All the work he’s done over 7 years of brainwashing me, real work on my personality and identity, my wardrobe, every single way I express myself and who I am. The people coming by are seeing his bimbo, his dolly, his [x] -- without necessarily knowing who either of us are.

The rhythm is addicting. My mind babbles my self-given dolly mantra over and over, I luxuriate in the stillness, and I stare. I only can sort of half-see with darkened vision, though my eyes are wide. I love when people notice me sitting there -- their expressions change as they observe me. They step into my metaphorical space, which is eerily silent compared to the revelry of the creative demonstrations that fill the room. They are no longer “being entertained,” and no one can communicate to them what I am doing -- they must engage with me out of their own curiosity.

Sometimes they decide to talk to me. I can’t process most of it, but I remember a few interactions.

Someone says, “What an excellent dolly.”

Someone else notices that I’m wearing a bracelet that says “bimbo,” and says, “Even the details on this one are exquisite.”

Someone else says, “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen sleepingirl play before.”

That last one hits me in the gut with memories of a time now long past: Play in public spaces was universal at cons; I couldn’t move from one place to another without someone dropping me into trance; absolutely everyone knew what I looked like when hypnotized.

Even now as I am on display, I have a mask on, and the people can’t see my gently parted lips.

It is a rush of emotion that is very complex for my simple little dolly head, but it goes away.

For a long while, I just exist as a thing in bliss while the room -- the whole world -- bubbles with activity around me. 

Eventually even as I sit frozen and blank, a little timer starts ticking in my head -- I could sit here for much longer, but I don’t want to make him wait for me, and I have other things I want to do tonight.

Reading Heschel has been helping me release some of that odd panic that bubbles up when I awaken from trance -- the feeling that magic is slipping through my fingers, memories are slipping out of my mind, and I can take no memento from it. I sometimes write, draw, or make music to try to capture the things I feel in hypnosis with my partner. I think it is from that impulse to be able to touch and hold hypnosis, to make it a “thing” in space as opposed to something of time.

But I do think there is something else, just a human drive to create art about this transcendent experience that we engage in together. I need to create art to try to communicate the perfect way I don’t move and my eyes go glassy. I need to express my emotions, my desires, my dreams, my love. I am only human, a human blown away by this very human thing we do that we call hypnosis.

Only my partner sees it, and he does see so much into the soul of it for me. But this is exactly what I have wanted -- a chance to publicly communicate the beauty of what he and I do. To make this art by performing it, living it. To engage in a human act of creativity by having my humanity stripped away from me.

I am a bimbo, a dolly, I am art -- and that doesn’t go away when I get up to tell him I am done sitting here. I am his art. I am a manifestation of his creativity in this world, and he has a beautifully creative mind which I love so dearly.

This is serious for me, this is real for me, this is so highly personal and jealously guarded as my own precious identity.

Ten years ago I laid my head on his lap and he transformed my eyes into dolly eyes and told me that someday he would turn my whole body into a dolly body. And as we laid together in a bed after the Gallery on Friday he talked about how I had those dolly eyes again in that room. But to me, it’s not about being a dolly, or even being a bimbo. It’s about creating art together, art with a power imbalance. And fucking respecting that as sacred and exciting.

I don’t have much else to say except extreme heartfelt gratitude to Mazirian for running the Gallery, and everyone who came by to look at me and said nice things to me and joined me in my world for just a little while. 

(If you’re curious, I was sitting there for about 30 minutes.)

[warlocksoup]

LOOPED: MIYA ATSUMU

she's stuck in a loop: texting him late on a friday night, letting him into her bed, clinging to him, silently begging for him to stay, only for him to leave again.

masterlist

tags/warnings: friends with benefits, implied love triangle, angst, hooking up, unhappy ending, kinda softcore smut but no actual smut, hardly proofread, mdni

word count: 2.2k

an: thinking abt starting a gen taglist for works like this since im planning on pivoting away from writing a bunch of series and focusing more on things like this. idk. let me know what you think if you want i can't make you. also do i think this is my best writing? no but writing has been so hard lately im proud of myself for getting this out

Atsumu likes to hold her after they fuck. 

His bare leg is hooked over her hip, and his arm is thrown over her shoulder, pulling her into his chest. It’s hot under her sheets, and Astumu’s skin is coated in a thin layer of sweat. It’s humid and unbearable, but she bears it, holding onto him by his waist, because it’s the only time he’s like this with her. 

“Thank you,” he says, and he tucks her head under his chin. His eyes are closed, and he lets out a long, deep breath. “I needed that.” 

He thanks her like she did him a favor. Her arms go a bit tighter around his waist, and she presses her ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Yeah,” she mumbles, her cheek pressed flat against his skin. “Anytime.” 

Atsumu runs a hand over the back of her head, smoothing down her hair. His fingers continue, dragging slowly down the center of her spine. “Do you mind if I stay for a little while?” he asks, voice dropping to a raspy whisper that makes her feel so desperate that shame boils just under his touch. 

Her eyes close. “No,” she says, her lips brushing against his bare chest as she speaks. “You can stay for as long as you want.” 

It’s like this every week. She always expects it to be different, and it never is. Every week, when it feels like it’s been dark for too long and she’s alone and can’t sleep, she texts him after she promised herself she wouldn’t. Sometimes he responds and says he’ll be right over, sometimes he replies and says he can’t. Sometimes he shows up without saying anything at all. 

It’s been like this for a while. Long enough for her to feel embarrassed that she’s letting him drag her along like this. 

He hums, and she can feel vibrations throughout his chest. “You’re so soft,” he tells her, “it makes it hard to leave.” 

Atsumu will leave, though. Before the morning comes, he’ll be out the door without saying a word to her. It doesn’t seem very difficult, when he does go. He always peels her off of him like she’s some piece of dirty laundry and slinks out of the room when he thinks she’s fallen asleep. 

His breathing steadies like he’s slipping into sleep. She tilts her chin forward, and places a soft kiss on the center of his chest. She won’t be able to sleep. She’s too wired, it’s too hot, and her neck lays uncomfortably on top of the pillow. When the morning comes she’s going to be sore and tired, and it will be a strain to get anything done. 

Her eyes close, and she’s sure that Atsumu’s knocked out when she whispers, “You don’t have to leave, y’know.” 

He doesn’t say anything. She wasn’t expecting him to. She keeps her eyes closed, and thinks of his warmth, trying her best to avoid thoughts of it disappearing when the morning comes. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu stands at the edge of her bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants. “I’m sorry to leave so soon,” he tells her, thumbs tucked under the waistband as they settle at the bottom of his hips. “I have to be at the gym so goddamn early tomorrow.” 

Her legs are crossed underneath the blanket and she sits upright, holding the pillow he usually sleeps on against her lap. “”S okay,” she tells him, watching as he grabs his hoodie off of the floor and throws it on over his head. “I’m not offended or anything.” 

“Honestly, I probably shouldn’t have come over tonight,” he confesses, and now she’s starting to feel a bit of a sting. “I just really needed to see you tonight.” 

She doesn’t know how to feel about this. She shuffles a bit, an indiscernible feeling settling uncomfortably over her skin. Atsumu doesn’t say things like that. She doesn’t know how to react. “Is something wrong?” 

Atsumu freezes, placing his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt. His expression is screwed up, knotted. Something is wrong. She leans forward, like she’s expecting him to whisper it in her ear, like he’s about to profess something profound and close to his chest. But Atsumu just shakes his head, “Nah, it’s nothing,” he says. He pats the pockets of his sweatpants. “Have you seen my phone?” 

She’s disappointed, but she doesn’t know why. She leans back and reaches towards her nightstand, yanking her phone off the charger and dialing Atsumu’s number. She knows it by heart, and hopes that he doesn’t notice. It buzzes from under her sheets. 

He leaves half past midnight, forty minutes after he got there. She can’t sleep once he’s gone. She stays up, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, trying to wear down her mind, make it too tired to keep thinking of him. 

Sakusa texts her. Five minutes past one. “Was Atsumu at your place?” 

She ignores it. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu lies on his side, and draws patterns on her bare stomach with the tip of his finger. She doesn’t say anything, out of fear of making him stop. She watches him instead, watching his face as he stares down at her midriff. He has this slight smile on his face, and it makes her feel pleasantly uneasy.

“I like your stomach,” he tells her. “I think it’s my favorite part of you.” 

The smile that grows on her face must give her away. She’s grateful for how occupied he is with her skin. “You have a favorite part of me?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I like all of you,” Atsumu tells her. “But I do have favorites. Your stomach, your nose, your thighs, fuck, just so much of you,” he sighs, as if overwhelmed. “I mean, a man can only take so much.” 

She doesn’t think it’s fair, that she’s expected not to fall in love with him when he says things like that. So unabashedly, completely unprompted. And there is this small part of her that kind of resents him, for things like this, saying all of that when he’s going to leave her before the morning comes. But she likes it more than she could ever hate it. So she smiles, and she says, “I don’t think I could pick my favorite part of you,” and means it more than she should. 

Atsumu’s hand stops, and he looks up at her. He grins, and it makes her stomach flip. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

It’s fifteen minutes to midnight, and she’s pacing in her bedroom, trying not to look at her phone. She texted him twenty minutes ago, and she thinks if she keeps herself from looking at her phone, it’ll make him respond quicker. She can’t back her logic, but she’s well past the point of reason. 

He hadn’t talked to her all week. Which, she tries to tell herself, isn’t too weird. He’s busy. He’s a professional athlete. He has better things to do than entertain her and her whims, and what is she to him, really, besides a person to sleep with? They weren’t that close when they started hooking up, and it’s not like the fucking as brought them closer together. 

But still, her stomach knots up with nerves. She feels like something’s wrong. Maybe she gave him too much of herself. Maybe he doesn’t want as much of her as she’s willing to give. 

Her phone vibrates against her nightstand, and she nearly breaks a toe rushing to answer it. On her home screen is a notification from him. 

Can’t make it tonight. Sorry. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

She always tries to give Atsumu what he wants. He likes it when she begs, so she begs. She gets down on her knees and begs to please him. He likes the feeling of her on top of him, thighs squeezing on either side of his hips, so she climbs on top of him, not stopping when her thighs start to burn. He likes it wet, so it’s wet. His hair tugged, his neck nibbled on, his back scratched. Whatever he likes, she gives it to him. 

And he keeps making these small little grunts of pleasure and his eyes are fluttering, but Atsumu feels far away. Unimpressed with the way her body moves against his. His hands lay lazily on her hips, not gripping tightly on her flesh. He doesn’t whisper praise in her ear. He doesn’t bite down on his lip and tell her yes, he likes it like that, keep doing that. He’s quiet, withdrawn. 

She keeps trying to give him more, and more, desperation clawing on the inside of her chest. But Atsumu gives her nothing. He takes what she offers silently, and it starts to feel like he’s keeping his eyes closed to avoid looking at her. 

After, he doesn’t hold her. Atsumu lies on his back with his hands tucked under his head, staring at her ceiling. He doesn’t say anything. 

Her body feels like it’s burning. She feels humiliated. The silence is bad but she thinks talking might be worse. She doesn’t want him to leave but she doesn’t want him to stay if it’s going to be more of this. The air is so thick she thinks she might choke on it. 

Atsumu turns his head to look at her. “Have you talked to Omi recently?” 

The question shocks her so badly she turns her head to him, face scrunched up in confusion. “What?” 

He shrugs. “He hasn’t been talking to me lately. I was just wondering if he said anything to you.” 

Her head straightens out and she looks back up at the ceiling. “He texted me the other week and asked if you were here. I didn’t know if I should tell him or not, and it didn’t really seem like any of his business, so I just didn’t respond.” 

Atsumu hums. “I think he’s jealous of you.” 

“Do you want him to be?” she asks at once, and then regrets it. 

Atsumu doesn’t say anything to this. He gets quiet, and she has to bite down on her lip to keep herself from saying something else stupid. Somehow, the air gets heavier. 

“I’m sorry,” she says after a minute of silence. 

“It’s okay,” Atsumu says, and he doesn’t mean it. He leaves a minute later, and tells her it’s because he has an early practice, but she’s not stupid. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu presses her against her bedroom wall, and when she closes her eyes, all she can see is him and Sakusa, arm’s slung around each other’s shoulders in a post-victory celebration earlier that day. And the way Atsumu looked at him makes her feel rotten. It hurts to remember, and Atsumu pounding into her does little to distract from it. 

She’s the loser in this war, she thinks, arms around his shoulders and leg hooked over his hip, too disconnected from her body to feel anything. It doesn’t matter how many times Atsumu has crawled back into her bed and held her against his chest. It doesn’t matter how in love with him she is. It’s always Sakusa. It’ll always be Sakusa. 

He holds her tightly after, their legs tangled together and his cheek resting on the top of her head. His phone’s in his pocket and it keeps buzzing. Atumu ignores it, and she can’t stop herself from thinking that it’s him.

She swallows. Her throat feels dry. “Someone keeps texting you,” she says, because she wants him to acknowledge it. 

Atsumu inhales deeply. “Ignore it,” he says, “just lie with me.” 

She closes her eyes, and does as she’s told. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Can I come over tonight? 

He texted her first. He doesn’t usually, but he did. The notification popped up over a video the MSBY Black Jackals post-match. Meian’s giving a courtside interview, but just behind him, she can see Atsumu and Sakusa, shoulders squared and tensed, keeping a strict distance from each other as they exit the court. She can feel the chill through the screen of her phone. 

She doesn’t know what it is that holds the both of them back from each other. Maybe it’s her. Maybe Sakusa doesn’t realize that Atsumu would drop her immediately if Sakusa ever asked him to. 

She’s always known that he would, though. Whatever she has to offer doesn’t seem to compare to Sakusa. She’s just a temporary fix, really. Just something to hold Atsumu over until Sakusa realizes this. 

She taps on the notification, and her conversation with Atsumu pops up. For a second, she scrolls through it. Minimal talking, mostly texts from her, with late responses from him. She can see it there, how much Atsumu doesn’t care about her. It doesn’t matter if he asks to come over or tells her he loves her stomach or how hard it is for him to leave. He just doesn’t care about her. Not the way she cares about him. 

Her thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment, paused in contemplation, before she types out a quick, yeah, sure, and hits send without thinking anymore about it.

If Sakusa hasn’t figured it out yet, then she’s not about to help him. She’ll just keep giving and giving, until there’s nothing left to give.

[bellixpog]

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Ultraviolence- Kang Noeul

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pair: Kang No-eul × F!Reader

context: part.2 of my other imagine

warning: hair pulling, bad word (just one sentence), possessive and obsessive jealousy

words: 4,5k

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Two weeks passed. No-eul watched you walk past the store every morning, heading to the café in front of the clothing store, with only a road separating the stores. No-eul noticed that you worked there, simply because you came in at the same time as her, and left work half an hour after her. As soon as she noticed this, she started to leave work in a hurry and go to your cafe, sitting at the tables in the back, watching you work, every move you made. Everything watched by her. She also noticed that you hated your boss, because every time she spoke to you, you would give a fake smile and turn away, rolling your eyes. She loved watching you. It was, however, one afternoon that you finally noticed the woman.

You recognized the face, but you couldn't remember where it came from. Ignoring that, you walked over to the girl, smiling slightly. "Hi... Would you like to order something?" You asked, with your notepad and pen in hand. No-eul smiled slightly and replied, "A chocolate donut and a black coffee, please." You nodded, writing down the order. Before leaving, you looked at the girl and analyzed her, "You work at the store in front, don't you?" You ask, tilting your head slightly. No-eul's smile widens and she nods. "Yes, that's me." You bite your lip, smiling and letting out a nasal laugh. "What is your name?" "No-eul...And yours?" No-eul asks, leaning slightly over the table, curious "Min-young..." You answer and No-eul analyzes you "Nice name... It suits you" You blushed and smiled shyly "Your order will arrive soon"

You say, and head to the counter, still slightly red from the woman's compliment. She exuded a confidence you had never seen before, it was like nothing affected her. It both delighted and frightened you, in a way. You left it aside, starting to prepare the order for No-eul, and other pending customers. You just needed to finish those last few orders and your shift would be over, and you would finally go home to see your little dog, Molly. A sigh left your mouth when you realized your shift was over. You took off your apron and let down your hair, looking around the space, noticing that No-eul was still there, sitting on the same place. "We're closing... Do you need anything?" No-eul raised her head and smiled, standing up. “To take a girl home, if she accepts…” You raised your eyebrows in surprise, and lets out a nasal laugh, grabbing your coat. "I don't think she sees any problem with that..." You say, and No-eul smiles, walking towards the door. "Ladies first." She says, opening the door and making room for you to leave. You smile shyly, stepping out the door, waiting for No-eul.

We can say that these little "dates" were repeated for two months. No-eul was amazing to you: She wrote you letters by hand, your Fridays were spent at a restaurant you both liked, and your Saturday and Sunday mornings were lazy, with No-eul's wet kisses on her neck and shoulder. You noticed No-eul's jealousy. The shape bit the inside of her cheek whenever she saw you talking to someone she didn't know who it was - that is, everyone - This slight possessiveness was something you happily accepted, and sometimes ignored. The request for a date was not something surprising, after all, you were actually being treated as a married person. Over time, there were some things that bothered you a little.

No-eul started to get more jealous, checking her phone every day, even asked you to change jobs so she could "spend more time with you". She even tried to hire someone to walk your dog Molly so you wouldn't have to leave the house, but giving up your dog was not in the cards. Over time, things got...intense. One day, you were putting on your coat, getting ready to take Molly for a walk, when you felt No-eul grab your hair, pulling you back. You groaned in pain, and No-eul rested your head on her shoulder, and whispered in your ear "Where the fuck are you going, Min-young?" No-eul whispered in your ear, she seemed calm, but to you, who knew her quite well, you knew that there was anger in that whisper.You didn't have to say anything: Molly appeared, and barked, wagging her tail. No-eul understood and let go of her hair and took Molly's leash "I'll go with her, babe. You stay." No-eul said wearing her coat. It wasn't the first, nor the last time that his displays of love were a little... rough, so to speak. But every time she hit you, or pulled your hair, it was like a kiss. A real kiss of love. That's how you knew she loved you, in her own way.

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a/n: that one is so small, someone kill me, please

THAT'S IT BABIES, I'M ALREADY WRITING THE NEXT ONE

Hope you liked it, xoxo!

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[beesgobzzzing]

Käärijä's life after Eurovision - almost burned out

Translation under the break!

Käärijä came, saw and conquered - kind of - in Eurovision 2023. After having almost burned out he's now back with new music and a clear statement: - I love Sweden, really, he tells Expressen.

Käärijä was on location in Luleå on Saturday for the first semi of Melodifestivalen, where he made up an interval act together with Hooja.

After Eurovision I got a lot of Swedish fans, I love them and want to say thank you for everything they do for me. In Eurovision 2023 he almost won. He came in second, after "Tattoo" by Loreen. A loss that stung, both for him and for Finland, since he got the most public votes, but not enough jury votes. - I've moved on. Life has moved on, you can't get stuck on it. It's just a competition, it's a big thing of course, but it doesn't matter who wins.

Are you doing okay? - I'm okay, but I think some Finns are angry. But I think they need to move on, Loreen is a fantastic artist and a loveable person and it's not her fault that she won - of course it's her fault - but people voted, then she won.

What have you been doing since Eurovision? - Of course a lot of things have happened since Eurovision. Good things, bad things. I've made a new album, done a lot of gigs, gotten new friends from other countries, not just Finland. I've started speaking more Finnish, he says and laughs.

How was everything right after the success of Eurovision? - If I think back on 2023… It was hard. People recognized me everywhere and I couldn't leave my house. It was a happy but also sad time. My life changed, over night. - I'm still waiting until I can take a month or two off. After Eurovision I had a week off. A week! It doesn't matter what you do - it's not enough. I'm still waiting until I am able to take more time off. I love my work, but you have to be able to rest.

Did you get over worked? - Kind of, yes. You get to a point where you do a bunch of different things - and you get paid for it. Everyone wants to work when they get well paid for it, that's the truth and that's what it was like for me too. But now, I can say no if I don't want to do something.

Because you're rich now? - Yes, exactly, he laughs.

On Friday he released "San Francisco Boy" together with Hooja. - It is not a Käärijä-song, or a Hooja-song. It is what happens when you put three crazy guys together, that's when you get this kind of song. For me it's about being the person you want to be. You can be a disco boy, a party boy - or a San Francisco boy.

The trio got into contact in 2024 and started collaborating. - The boys came to Finland and we hung out in the studio for a couple of days, we made a few songs.

A few? - Maybe a few, but we don't know if we're going to release the others. You never know. But "San Francisco Boy", everyone liked it. We'll see about the others.

What is happening next for you? - I am not doing as many gigs this year. There are a few summer gigs. But now we're making music, a bunch of new music and I'm spending a lot of time in the studio, working, after that we'll see what happens.

[jazzy96scorpio]

The Black Rose and the Star

Chapter 1 Unspoken Words

Description: Landing a job at SNL is huge for you as photographer, but the real surprise comes in when you met ridiculously charming actor [Pedro Pascal]. From secret studio dances to late-night pizza and poetry, your connection is undeniable. Turns out, the best things in life are totally unplanned.😉 It's a slow burn and so fluffy. For now 🫣

I think we all have delulu dreams of Pedro so here is mine 😊

Pairing: You / Pedro Pascal

Word count: 2,319

It was Friday, you were in studio finishing your work, you were happy, you are going to rest finally. When your phone rings. It was your boss. SHIT you thought.

"Ugh, seriously?" you groaned, already picturing your relaxing Friday night going up in smoke. Your boss's voice on the other end of the phone wasn't promising anything good. "What's the fire drill this time?" you ask him.

"Lorne Michaels' office called," he explained "They need a new photographer. Mary Ellen's sick."

Your heart skipped a beat. Mary Ellen Matthews. The legendary SNL photographer. "And…?" you prompted, barely daring to breathe.

"Lorne's seen your work," your boss continued. "He specifically requested you."

Your breath hitched. Whoa.

Lorne Michaels himself had seen your work? That was…insane. "Okay," you managed, trying to sound cool and collected when inside you were freaking out.

"Oh, and there's one tiny detail," your boss added, and you could practically hear the smirk. "You'll be working with Pedro Pascal."

Your brain short-circuited. Pedro Pascal. Pedro Pascal. The name echoed in your head like a beautiful melody. You loved his work. You loved his everything, honestly. The thought of actually meeting him, working with him… it was too much. A giggle threatened to escape, and you bit your lip to keep it in. "Okay, cool," you mumbled, trying to play it cool.

"Be at Studio 8H at NBC on Monday," your boss instructed.

"Will do," you replied, your mind already a million miles away. Studio 8H. SNL. Him. It was all so ridiculously exciting. You hung up, a huge grin spreading across your face. Friday night plans? Forget about it. Monday couldn't get here fast enough. You were going to meet him.

The whole weekend was a wash. Sleep? Forget about it. Your brain was a non-stop party of "OMG I'm meeting him" on repeat. Monday morning finally rolled around, and you practically bounced out of bed, dragging your assistant along for the ride. The studio was buzzing, the kind of organized chaos that comes with live TV. You met the producers, the crew – everyone was super nice and professional. And then… he walked in.

Holy crap.

Your brain just…froze. He was even more amazing in person. Seriously, spectacular. He said hi to everyone, that smile of his making your heart do a weird little flip-flop. Then he vanished into an office with the producers, and you tried to, you know, breathe again.

A few minutes later, he came back out, and one of the producers waved you over.

"Pedro, this is the photographer," he said.

You stuck out your hand, trying so hard not to be a total mess. "Hi, I'm…," you managed, getting your name out without too much stammering. He shook your hand, and whoa, that touch. Electric.

"Nice to meet you," he said, and his voice was just as warm and charming as you'd hoped.

"You two are working together tomorrow," the producer said. "We're shooting the promo pics."

"Alright," you replied, trying to play it cool. Inside, you were screaming. He smiled again, and you were pretty sure your knees almost gave out.

Then he turned to the crew, and they all started talking about the script. The vibe shifted, everyone getting down to business. You watched him chat with everyone, so relaxed and enthusiastic. You couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would be like.

Shoot day 📸

That day was a trip. You were floating, high on the excitement of him, and trying to play it cool. Today was that day – the photoshoot. You practically leaped out of bed (okay, maybe you snoozed the alarm once or twice), picked out your best outfit (but, like, a cool, casual best), showered, and even put on some makeup (but, you know, the "I woke up like this" kind).

When you arrived at the studio, he was already there. Coco, his groomer and friend, was working on his hair. You introduced yourself to her; she was lovely. Then, you told him you'd wait until he was ready.

Half an hour later, you were setting up your camera, a little shaky despite having worked with big names before. This was different. This was him. And then he walked in.

Oh. My. God.

He was…gorgeous. His hair… you had a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to run your fingers through it. That cute face tucked between my… "Girl, are you alright?" Emma, your assistant, nudged you, her eyes wide. "Yeah, fine," you mumbled, but you knew she'd never seen you like this.

You started shooting, and he was a total pro. So talented, so gorgeous. It was easy, actually. He listened to your directions, and the camera just loved him.

Finally, the shoot was done. You walked over, thanking him.

"I'd love to see the pics," he said.

You showed him your laptop, and as you scrolled through the photos, he leaned in close.

His cologne smelled insane, and you were trying really hard not to just melt on the spot. "These are awesome," he said, grinning. "I love them."

And then, he put his hand on your shoulder. Fuck. You were pretty sure you were melting. "You did an amazing job," he whispered in your ear.

"Well," you managed, your voice a little husky, "it was you. You're incredible. It was pleasure working with you."

And then he left winking at you, leaving your heart pounding like a drum solo. You were officially a mess.

You sat at your table, fingers flying across the keyboard as you edited the photos. He was close by, at the next table, going over the script with the crew. Emma, your ever-attentive assistant, came over. "Need anything?"

"The strongest coffee you can find," you groaned, rubbing your burning eyes.

"And an energy drink. I haven't slept in days."

"That's not healthy," she scolded gently.

"Well, I've gotta die from something," you mumbled, only half-joking.

She giggled. "What kind of coffee?"

"Black as my soul and cold as ice," you replied.

Emma, being the absolute gem she was, turned to Pedro and the crew. "Anyone else need anything?"

"I'll have what she's having," he said, looking over at you and smiling.

You were like Wait, did that just happen? He smiled at me?

Emma brought the coffees, and you thanked her profusely.

"Seriously," she said, giving you a concerned look. "You need to do something about this insomnia. Have you tried sleep pills?"

"Yeah, they don't really work," you sighed.

"What about tea?" she asked.

You gave her a look. "Do I look like tea is going to calm me down?"

She laughed. "Good point."

"I hate tea," you confessed.

"Okay, okay," she said, still chuckling. "Just trying to help."

"I know, and I appreciate that thank you." you said, giving her a grateful smile. She was the best.

About an hour after Pedro was leaving with his friend, he strolled back in. And, to your surprise, he actually said goodbye to you. You felt your cheeks warm up a little. Right then, the producer showed up. "Hey, those photos and videos," he said. "Think you can get them to us by morning? We need them for tomorrow."

"Yep, I can do that," you said. "Just gotta finish up here."

"Awesome! Thanks," he replied, looking relieved.

Hours later, you were finally almost done. The program was rendering, and you were just chilling, waiting for it to finish up so you could send everything off. You were beat, but figured you'd put on some tunes to keep you going. A few minutes later, you were totally in your zone, dancing and belting out the lyrics, not a care in the world. You were alone, after all, and enjoying the moment.

Then, boom, he was just there. Pedro. He was cracking up.

"Those are some serious moves," he said, grinning. "Uh, I just forgot my glasses and script."

You froze, totally embarrassed. "Oh my god," you mumbled, your face getting hot. "I didn't realize anyone was around."

"No worries," he chuckled. "Your secret's safe with me. Unless… you want to give me a lesson?" He gestured playfully. "I've always wanted to learn how to… uh… do that." He attempted a little hip swivel, which came out more like a shimmy, and you couldn't help but laugh.

Your heart did a little flutter-kick. "Oh, please," you said, trying to play it cool. "You'd probably break something."

"Hey, I'm a fast learner," he protested, grinning. He was already shuffling closer, trying to copy your earlier moves, though not quite as gracefully. "Come on, show me what you got."

"Okay, fine," you laughed, showing him a basic step. He was actually into it, and before you knew it, you were both laughing and twirling around the studio to the beat of the song."Wow," you said, impressed. "You've got some serious rhythm. Those hips don't lie." He was a good dancer, you had to admit.

"You know," he said, his voice a little breathy, "for someone who claims to be tired, you've got a lot of energy." He moved even closer, a playful glint in his eyes. "And," he murmured, his voice dropping, "you smell amazing."

Fuck, you thought. I really want this man.

"It's called the power of RUN-DMC," you replied, trying to sound casual even though your insides were doing a wild dance.

He was so close, and at one point, he lightly touched your waist as he spun you, and whoa. "You dance like this always?" he asked, his eyes locking with yours. "You're good."

"No," you replied, a shy smile playing on your lips. "Only when I'm alone."

He grinned, a genuine, warm smile that made your heart melt. He was enjoying this moment with you, you could tell.

It was a perfect, crazy, unexpected moment… until your phone rang, totally killing the vibe.

Your phone wouldn't stop buzzing. "You should probably answer that," he said, nodding towards the insistent ringing.

You sighed and picked up. After a brief, tense exchange, you hung up, but the conversation clearly wasn't over. He left to find his glasses and script, but he came back just as your ex’s voice boomed from your phone.

"I told you, we are done. Don't call me ever again!" you snapped, your voice rising. Pedro’s face creased with worry as he overheard the shouting.

You slammed the phone down on the table, fuming. "Everything okay?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "Who was that?"

"My ex," you said, still trying to control your anger. "Long story..I don't want to mention him."

"Ok," he said, shaking his head. "You shouldn't be treated like that. Seriously. If you need anything, anything at all, I'm here."

"Thank you," you said, the sincerity in your voice palpable. "That means a lot." You glanced at the time. "I should probably get going. I'm finally done here."

You both left the building together. "Thanks again for the dance," you said, a small smile playing on your lips. "I actually had fun." He says "I enjoyed too."

You started to walk away, but he called after you. "Hey, where's your car?"

"It's in the repair shop," you explained.

"Oh," he said. "It's pretty late. I don't want you taking the bus alone. Let me give you a ride."

"Really? You don't have to—"

"No, I insist," he said. "It's the least I can do."

You got in the car, and the ride was comfortable, easy. You chatted about everything, the earlier tension fading away. When you pulled up to your apartment building, you thanked him for the ride.

As you reached for your stuff in the backseat, he was already opening the door for you.

"Allow me," he said, flashing that charming smile.

Such a gentleman, you thought. "Thank you," you said, feeling a little flustered. Then, a slightly crazy thought popped into your head.

"Hey," you blurted out, "are you hungry? I was planning to make a pizza." You were immediately nervous that you were being too forward.

He chuckled, noticing your hesitation. "Actually," he said, "I'm starving. And pizza sounds perfect. I'm a sucker for a good pizza." He grinned. "Especially when someone else is preparing it."

"Great!" you said, relief washing over you. "Come on in." And just like that, you were walking into your apartment with him.

💓

You get into your apartment. "Make yourself at home," you said. "I'll grab you something to drink while I prepare the pizza."

He wandered over to the bookshelves that lined one wall. "Wow, you've got quite a collection," he commented, running a hand along the spines. "You're a reader?"

"Yeah, books and movies are my two favorite things," you replied.

He chuckled, his eyes landing on a shelf crammed with everything from classic literature to steamy romance novels.

"Crime and Punishment right next to… those," he said, a playful smirk on his face. "I like your range."

"Hey, a girl's gotta have options," you said, grinning."Sometimes you need Dostoevsky, sometimes you need..well, you know spicy stuff."

"I get it," he said, still chuckling.

His gaze drifted to the small table by the wall, where a single black rose stood in a glass vase. "Wow," he said, his voice softer now.

"That's… striking. A black rose. I've never seen one before."

"They're my favorite," you said, walking over to the rose. "They're from Türkiye. They're unique. And so beautiful to me." You say "They just feel…special."

"They are special," he agreed, coming to stand beside you. "They suit you."

You looked up at him, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said, his eyes meeting yours.

"They're beautiful, a little mysterious… just like you."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "Thank you," you whispered.

"That's… really nice of you to say."

"I mean it," he said, his voice low. "Everything about this place…it feels like you.It's… I don’t know… comfortable."

So, you are movie buff too? What are some favorites?"

"Ugh, that's the hardest question ever," you groaned. "I love anything with a good story, but I'm a sucker for good comedy and, you know, movies with twists that make your jaw drop."

You hoped he wouldn't pull out one of the spicier books, but of course, he did. He picked up one with a particularly intriguing title and flipped it open. He read a few lines, his eyebrows shooting up. "Whoa," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "This is…descriptive"

"Put that down," you said, laughing and playfully swatting his arm.

"You're going to corrupt my innocent image."

"Too late," he said, still grinning. "The image has been corrupted."

"Pizza will be ready in about fifteen minutes," you announced, settling on the sofa next to him. He was still holding the book.

"So," he said, flipping through the pages. "This one's yours?" He pointed to a slim volume bound in soft leather.

"Yeah," you said. "It's my… poetry journal. I write all my favorite poems in there."

"Mind if I take a peek?" he asked.

"Sure," you said, a little nervous. It felt weirdly intimate, sharing your favorite poems with him. He flipped through the pages and then stopped. "This one," he said. "Read this one to me."

You took the book, your heart pounding a little. You cleared your throat and read him your favorite poem, the words flowing easily off your tongue, even with him sitting right next to you, listening intently.

"All I want, is to lose myself in your eyes, to forget the world and feel like I belong to something real, something I can't escape, even if I wanted to."

You finished the poem, your voice soft.

"That's… really beautiful," he said, his gaze fixed on you.

"This one's my absolute favorite," you said, turning the page.

"It's called 'I Love You From Afar.'" And then you began to read:

"I love you from afar

without being able to smell your scent

to embrace your nape

to feel your face

I merely love you

from afar, I just love you

not holding your hand

without touching your heart

nor dissolving in your eyes

in spite of today’s three-day love fads

not wildly but like a woman, I love you

I just love you from afar

without wiping off the two tears running down your cheeks

not joining you in your heartiest laughs

nor crooning together with you your most favorite song

from afar, I just love you

without disappointing,

not pouring out anything

without destroying

not making sad,

nor causing a cry, I love you from afar

I just love you like that from afar;

by shredding in my tongue

every word I want to tell you

I love you

I love you on a white piece of paper

while my words fall down, drop by drop…"

When you finished, there was a comfortable silence. He was looking at you, his expression thoughtful. "That's… intense," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "Really beautiful, though." He paused. "It's, like, really vulnerable, too."

You shrugged a little. "Yeah, well," you said. "Poetry. It's kind of my thing."

You paused, then added, "I think that kind of love, the 'from afar' kind, is the purest, biggest love a human being can feel. But also the one that's hurts the most. It's all about the heart, no expectations, no conditions."

He nodded slowly. "I can see that," he said. "There's a certain… power in that kind of selfless love, isn't there?"

You nodded back. "Yeah." You felt a little exposed, but it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling. It was… nice.

You stood up and checked on the pizza. Perfect. You set the table, and he came over, a smile on his face."Smells amazing," he said.

He took a bite, his eyes widening. "Wow," he said. "This is… seriously good. Best pizza I've had in ages." He polished off a slice.

"You've got some serious culinary skills."

"Thanks," you said, pleased. "It's my secret recipe."

You grabbed a beer from the fridge, handing it to him. "Perfect pairing," he declared. You shook your head, still a little in disbelief.

"I still can't believe I'm sitting here, eating pizza with you," you said, laughing a little. "This has been the best night. Thank you for keeping me company.”

"The pleasure was all mine," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "I really enjoyed tonight, too. The dancing, the poetry… the pizza." He grinned. "It was all perfect."

After you finished eating, he picked up the poetry book again. "Mind if I borrow this?" he asked. "I'd love to read some more of these poems."

"Of course," you said. "Just promise you'll give it back."

"Wouldn't dream of keeping it," he said, carefully tucking the book into his jacket.

As he stood at the door, ready to leave, he turned back to you. "Thank you again for tonight," he said, his voice warm. He stepped closer and, before you knew it, he pulled you into a hug. It was quick, but it was…..AMAZING.

His arms around you, the scent of his cologne… it was the best feeling ever. "Good night," he whispered.

"Good night," you replied, your heart still doing a little happy dance.

He was gone, and you were left standing in your apartment, a dazed smile on your face. It was late, you were exhausted, but you couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Pizza, poetry, dancing, a hug… with him. It felt like a dream.

The next two days were a blur of rehearsals and prep for Saturday's show. Friday was pretaping, and you mostly tried not to just stare at him the whole time. Seriously, he was so captivating to watch. Just pure talent.

After filming wrapped, he came over to you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I've been reading your poems," he said. "They're… really something. You should publish them. Seriously."

You felt a blush creeping up your neck. "Oh, come on," you said, trying to downplay it. "They're not that good."

"They are," he insisted. "They're honest and raw and… beautiful. You have a real gift." He paused, a playful glint in his eyes. "And," he added, "I was thinking… maybe we could have a pizza and poetry night sometime? Just the two of us?"

"Sure," you said, trying to sound all chill. "Sounds fun. But next time, we're watching a movie. My pick."

"Okay, deal," he said. "I'm down for that." He leaned in a little. "You know," he murmured, "it's been really nice getting to know you. I feel… comfortable around you. It's cool."

"Yeah, thank you" you said, your heart doing a little flutter-kick. "I'm glad to hear that." You were trying so hard to play it cool, but inside you were doing a happy dance. You couldn't wait for that movie night.

🎥🎬

Saturday night was electric. The studio buzzed with energy, and you were right in the thick of it, helping the crew wherever you could, but mostly, let's be honest, you were watching him.

He walked in, all in black, those gorgeous curls framing his face, that "dad bod" he rocked so perfectly… you couldn't take your eyes off him.

"Honey, you are so in love," Emma whispered, nudging you playfully.

"I mean, who wouldn't be?" you replied, only half-joking. "That man is a Zaddy."

Emma laughed. You started humming.

Sex bomb, sex bomb, you're my sex bomb

And, baby, you can turn me on.

And before you knew it, you and Emma were belting out the song, doing a little impromptu dance party.

Then, the stream ended, and he walked up, having clearly heard your little performance. His face was serious. "Who's the sex bomb?" he asked, his voice low.

Oh crap you thought. Emma froze, her eyes wide. You turned around, and there he was.

"I… I'm sorry," you stammered. "I just… couldn't help myself."

He burst out laughing. "I'm just kidding," he said. "I love that song. And, if I may say…" He touched your shoulder lightly. "You're the one."

Your mind went blank. Did he just…?

You managed a "Thank you," your voice a little shaky.

"Are you coming to the after-party?" he asked.

"Nah," you said. "I'm not really a big party person."

"Me neither," he said. "But… would you come with me? Just for a little while?"

Oh my god, is he… asking me out?

"Yes," you managed, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'd love to."

After everything wrapped up, he came over. "Come on," he said, taking your hand. "Let's go."

Walking into the after-party with him was surreal. Everyone was looking at you, and you suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. He got you a drink, and then, he asked you to dance. It was a slow song, and when he took your hand and pulled you close, his hand resting on your waist, you thought you might actually melt. Oh my god. His body was so close to yours, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

What is this man doing to me? You had never felt like this before.

Pedro POV ❤️‍🔥

The music swirled around us, a slow, pulsing beat. She moved with a quiet grace, her body swaying in time with the rhythm. God, I thought, she’s stunning. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was something about her… something mysterious, intriguing. I’d been drawn to her from the moment I’d seen her .

And then I’d heard her poetry…raw, honest, beautiful. Even her slightly awkward, goofy humor. And her food. Everything about her was captivating me in a way I didn’t quite understand.

I pulled her a little closer, my hand resting lightly on her waist. Her perfume was intoxicating. Damn, I thought. I wanted her. Badly. But I didn't want to rush things. There was something special about her, something I didn't want to mess up. Her eyes… those intense eyes, and that soft hair… and that silly, unguarded side of her, the way she’d just been dancing and singing without a care in the world. It was captivating.

"I think you're gorgeous," I murmured, my voice low. "I haven't met anyone like you before."

"Thank you," she said, a little breathless. "You're pretty incredible yourself. Seriously, this week has been amazing."

"Mine too," I said, my eyes locking with hers.

When the song ended, a wave of nervousness washed over her. "I should probably get going," she said, suddenly feeling shy.

"I'll drive you," I offered.

She nodded, grateful.

❣️

At your apartment door, he handed you back your poetry book. "Thanks for the dance," he said, a warm smile gracing his lips. "And for a beautiful night."

"It was… the best night ever," you blurted out, then immediately cringed. Smooth.

He hesitated, his breath catching a little. You saw something shift in his expression. Then, he leaned in, cupped your cheek in his hand, and kissed you. It was a sweet, tentative kiss, like he was testing the waters. He pulled back a little, looking almost nervous. "I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to—"

Before he could finish, you grabbed him and kissed him again, harder this time, all that pent-up energy finally finding an outlet. You didn't want him to apologize. You wanted this. You pulled him inside, kicked the door shut, and suddenly, it was just the two of you. The air between you was electric.

Thanks for the reading ❣️ Please like, reblog or comment. I appreciate it alot. 💖

Chapter 2😉🫦

@pedrohub @pedgito @littlemisspascal

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 44

Chapter 44 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Eddie doesn’t believe in signs, he is just working on saving people hit by the tsunami. However, a natural disaster forcing you back towards your family is as close to a sign as you can get.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: injury, minor character death mention

~~~

Chapter 44: Looking for a Sign

A tsunami. Eddie honestly isn’t sure why he didn’t expect that when he came into work today with the craziness that is LA, but then again, no one expects a natural disaster a year after the last one. If he has to guess, the only person that expected this is his mom, who expects LA to be the most dangerous place on earth every day of the week.

Eddie is so glad they managed to mollify her with a promise of a few weeks stay in El Paso by Chris over the break, because he doesn’t think he would have survived this last period if she’d been berating him every second.

He’s only just finding his footing again, becoming more confident. He’s not out, far from it, but he’s gotten comfortable thinking of himself as gay.

Work has helped – as has Bosko of course, but work is different – because it’s the same. Neither he nor Buck mentioned their troubles at home, well, Eddie’s troubles, so the others don’t ask questions or send him worried looks. They just treat him like Eddie, like he’s still the same. He needs that.

Right now, though, work is not like usual. A natural disaster is always an all hands on deck situation and this is no different.

It’s unreal to look over the carnage and Eddie is starting to be real glad they live on the other side of town. Chris was a little bummed out in the car on Friday when he brought him home, because they were going to stay in this weekend. Then Eddie felt slightly bad, almost traded his shift to be free today too, but now he’s only relieved that the two of them are far away from here.

They’re in the boats and all they’re passing are dead bodies to tag, which is always unpleasant work. However, the living ones they’re going to encounter are bound to be worse. Disasters like these always leave gruesome wounds.

Indeed, the first call they answer is pretty bad with soon to be official step-father and son stuck together by a pole through the both of them. They get the son out, but the husband to be is a harder call.

Tensions are high as Bobby dives into the water while the rest of them work to keep Chuck alive as a second surge hits the boat and water starts to come in. Underwater CPR is not an experience Eddie would like to relive.

However, they get him alive into transport, which is more than Eddie thought they’d get when they first came upon the scene. Hen and Chim go with him, so it’s out of his hands, because he follows Bobby to the pier to serve as back up.

The back up in question, is necessary at a Ferris wheel with a bunch of people stuck on it without enough transport and hands to get them away, before it comes down.

“Hey, we could use a hand up here,” a very familiar voice suddenly calls down.

Eddie’s head snaps up and he exclaims: “Bosko?”

Indeed, it is Bosko, who looks surprised for a second. She’s completely soaked and not in natural disaster gear, but she grins down at Eddie. “Diaz, hey! You’re late.”

“Oh fuck off,” he calls back, scanning for injuries. She looks okay and she’s not completely devastated or whatever. However, she is definitely putting on a professional front and Eddie can’t spot any more firefighter blue anywhere.

“You know her?” Bobby asks.

“Yeah, that’s Bosko. She works at the 136, she was my partner while I was there,” Eddie says, already getting ready to climb out of the boat and onto the Ferris wheel. “We work well together, should I go help her?” he asks, though he’s not really asking for permission.

“Alright,” Bobby gives it anyway, “grab an extra harness, rope, pulleys, figure eight plates. I’ll coordinate evac and transport some down here.”

“Sounds like a plan, Cap,” Eddie grins, before doing what he was already going to do and climbing up to where Bosko is.

When he gets there, the man in the cart with Bosko seems to be okay, albeit terrified out of his mind, and the Ferris wheel is shaking. Trying to lighten the air a little, he comments: “That’s not part of the ride,” asking for more information at the same time.

“No, the spokes are coming off the hub. This thing’s been trashed,” Bosko says, focusing on the patient and not looking at Eddie. Her face is scratched up.

“What about you?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she answers curtly, before nodding at the man. “And neither is he.”

“I’m not going anywhere, not until the water is gone,” the man insists.

“Sir, if you don’t come with us, this whole thing will be gone,” Bosko says rather harshly.

Eddie has never seen her mad like that and the weird reality that he’s going to have to be the calm one between them settles in. He also turns to the man and says: “Don’t worry, buddy. I’m gonna get you down safely. I’m just gonna put this harness around you, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” the man nods, still terrified.

“Alright,” Eddie nods, going to help the man while questioning Bosko. “You guys were on the pier when it hit? Where is everyone?”

“Robin’s out sick today and Daisy was man behind. The others… we got separated to all spin cycle. I haven’t seen any of them. Station’s probably hit too,” she replies, mouth pursed as if angry, though Eddie can see it’s just her brave face.

“We’ll run into them at some point,” Eddie assures her. “Cap will let you join our rescue team, we can search for them while we help others.”

The line on her face turns into a small smile and she thanks him, before the two of them lower the terrified man down. With him safely down, they turn to the next cart. Bosko now manages to joke more, saying: “You didn’t want to go climbing with me tomorrow, let’s see how you do now, huh.”

“I didn’t turn you down because I can’t climb. I was half thinking to surprise Chris then, since he was kind of down yesterday, but that clearly isn’t going to happen,” he says, nodding at the carnage around them. “Besides, you’re friends with way too many of your exes, it’s weird.”

“It’s lesbian culture,” she corrects.

“Still weird,” Eddie complains, before showing her that he can climb just fine.

Their next patient is more what you expect when you hear natural disaster. The man’s a possible spinal and if they don’t get a hail Mary, he has a small chance or recovery, if not survival. It isn’t looking great for Max.

However, just because it’s not looking great, doesn’t mean they’re going to give up on him. So, they all work together to get a headboard and neck brace up there, so they can stabilize his neck, while they keep the two occupants distracted by asking what they’d been doing at the pier. Your divorce papers getting interrupted by a tsunami is certainly a story to tell.

It seems the guy was looking for a sign, a sign to try and save their marriage. Buck believes in signs like this. Eddie wonders if he’d see being on this call as a sign, then wonders if he should see it as a sign too.

He shakes off the thought, he doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t believe in signs and he’s not going to start now. It can work out between him and Buck, they can still be friends, maybe even stay married. This doesn’t need to be the end, Eddie just has to figure out how to make it right between them. With slight amusement he makes a mental note not to take Buck to the pier when he finally figures it out.

Still, despite not believing in signs, he is relieved when the chopper comes and Max moves his fingers.

It’s just because he’s glad the guy has a better chance to live, he tells himself, trying to ignore the bit of devastation he feels in his chest when Max signs the divorce papers anyway. He called them a beautiful disaster.

Eddie can’t help but apply it to himself. His years with Buck have been the best of his life by far, but, as they said when explaining why they didn’t divorce, things just kept happening. Maybe they are a disaster too?

He likes to think he’s wrong about that, but the thought haunts him as they watch the chopper take Max away.

They lower the woman down, then he and Bosko start to get ready for their climb down. Before they start, they hear Bobby call out: “Incoming! Debris!”

Both their heads snap out towards the water, indeed seeing a slew of debris coming their way, carried by the receding tide. Eddie looks at Bosko and quirks a brow: “Okay, so maybe you climb better, but how’s your diving?”

“What? You suddenly an artistic diver?” Bosko retorts with amusement, as she also stops getting ready to climb down.

“Nah,” he laughs, before jumping.

Bosko is right behind him, the two of them getting pulled onto the ship by Bobby before the debris hits. Behind them, the Ferris wheel that they were just on collapses and Eddie tries to take that as a sign that whatever happened on there doesn’t matter.

When they get back, the receded water means that they can now wade through the water on foot, which is good news, since the trucks are still stuck on the other side of town, unable to get through to them, and boats are in short supply.

“Hen and Chimney are readying some turnout backpacks until we’re mobile again,” Bobby explains to the both of them, seamlessly incorporating Bosko into their team like Eddie predicted. Then he stops and turns to her. “Bosko, your crew from your house are all alive and accounted for, except for Captain Cooper. He’s still MIA. I’m sorry.”

Eddie knows how much Ronnie means to her and he can see it in her eyes that the relief immediately gets overshadowed by grief. MIA in a situation like this is never good. Still, Bosko tries to swallow down the pain, masking with professionalism. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, Captain, I’m gonna stick around and look for him.”

However, Bobby is annoyingly perceptive sometimes, so he doesn’t agree to that immediately, instead asking: “Why are you holding yourself like that?”

“It’s nothing, bruised rib,” Bosko says, playing it off, but Eddie knows her better than that. He’s seen her get punched in the face and react the exact same way.

“Let me take a look at that,” he says, stepping closer.

“I said it’s nothing,” Bosko insists with a foul look send his way.

He sticks his chin out challengingly. She called him out on his bullshit, he’s allowed, if not required, to return the favor. “Then there’s no harm in letting me take a look at it. The sooner you let me, the sooner you can go look for Ronnie. Unless it’s more than a bruised rib?”

“You’re an asshole,” she hisses.

“So, I’m right and it is more than a bruised rib.”

“I liked you better when your head was still so stuck in your own ass that didn’t even know you were a dick, you know that, Diaz?”

“Hey, no need to get aggressive,” Bobby steps between the perceived start of their fight.

“It’s alright, Cap,” Eddie assures him, as Bobby sends him a weird look. It’s not necessarily the kind of friendship the 118 has with each other and he knows it. He just sends a smile back, before turning to Bosko and says: “I had to be honest with you, now it’s your turn.”

She looks away for a second with her jaw squared stubbornly. For a moment, Eddie thinks she isn’t going to answer, then she grits out: “Fine, it’s broken. But I’m fine. I can go on.”

“You sure?” Eddie pulls a disbelieving face. “Must be hurting like a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, breathing isn't super fun,” Bosko says annoyed. “But I’m fine. You know I can take a punch.” “Well, it’s not up to him,” Bobby interrupts them again. “It’s up to me and I’m calling it. You’re out the field. USAR Command is setting up the VA hospital on Sawtelle.” He turns to Eddie. “I want you to stick with her just in case her desire to track down her Captain causes her to lose her way. I’m going to-”

“This is bullshit,” Bosko cuts him off. “You’re not my Captain. My Captain is out there somewhere and I’m not abandoning him to this disaster.”

Eddie winces at that. He knows Bobby isn’t too strict when it comes to decorum, but if she goes on like that, he’s going to have to discipline her. He’s been through that once, would not recommend it in the slightest.

However, before he can say something to soften her words for Bobby, they hear screaming coming from down the street. It’s people calling out for help.

Their little crew is the only ones in the vicinity, so Bobby lets out the big breath he’d just taken and holds up a finger to Bosko. “You’re coming with us on this, only because I don’t trust you enough to let you go by yourself and I might need Eddie’s extra set of hands. You’re going to stand there, help with the light stuff maybe, then you’re going directly to the VA hospital. Am I clear?”

He is most definitely not clear and Bosko would totally argue if there weren’t people screaming for help, but for now she just grits: “Crystal, sir.”

“Good,” Bobby nods after one intense look in her eyes, then he turns on his heel and marches to the people calling out, Bosko and Eddie right behind him.

While they walk behind him, Eddie hisses: “What the hell was that? Do you want to get suspended for insubordination?”

“Of course not, but he can’t stop me,” Bosko frowns back. “You know Ronnie is my friend, you wouldn’t let your friends be alone out here, would you?”

Eddie makes a complicated face, because he knows she’s right, but he also knows Bobby is right. It isn’t that easy. “You’re hurt,” he ends up saying. “Ronnie wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself to look for him.”

“Good thing he’s not here to say that then, so I guess we won’t know for sure, and I say he’d want me to look for him,” Bosko retorts. “What if it were Buck out there?”

“That’s a low blow,” Eddie says, not able to deny it, but still not liking it, sending a glance over to Bobby to make sure he hasn’t heard.

“But it’s true,” Bosko says. “Where is he today? He okay?”

“He’s home with Chris. Lazy day in probably and far away from all this,” Eddie says.

“Did you call them to tell them you’re okay?” Bosko asks and that’s a good point. He hasn’t spoken to Buck yet, not really, but a natural disaster is a good reason to break the habit. It could even be a first step towards coming home. Maybe this is his sign.

“I’ll call when I’m bringing you to the VA hospital.”

“Yeah, like I’m going to let you take me there,” Bosko mutters darkly.

Before Eddie can reply to that, they’ve made their way to a group of people. They’re all standing next to a fire engine or helping people down from it. Upon closer inspection, Eddie realizes it’s the fire engine of the 136. These people must have sheltered on it while the water raged around them.

Once they’re close enough, Bobby calls out: “LAFD, we’re here to help. What’s the problem? Is anyone hurt or stuck?”

“Plenty of people are hurt, but no one serious,” a woman says. “We need you to help us find this man. He saved us all. Pulled us up onto this truck when we drifted by, but he got swept away. He could be hurt.”

“Eddie here can check all of you over,” Bobby tells her gently. “What’s your name?”

“Marissa,” she answers.

“Well, Marissa, we can’t make any promises about finding your rescuer, but if you give us a description, we’ll make sure to keep an eye out for him,” Bobby says

“He’s tall, very tall, and white,” Marissa says. “Some of the debris must have hit him in the face, because he has a bruise on his eye. He’s blond.”

“No, you’re saying it all wrong,” another woman says. “He’s a redhead.”

“No, he’s not,” Marissa insists. “He pulled me out early, I had a good look at him.”

“Well, then you’re blind,” a man is now interjecting himself into the conversation as well. “He is definitely Hispanic.”

Marissa pulls a face. “He’s so not Hispanic.”

“Yes, he is,” the man insists.

The other woman is now picking his side as well, saying: “Yeah, you don’t have to be dark skinned to be Hispanic. You should check your stereotypes.” She turns to Bobby and says: “He’s Hispanic, his kid called him papi. He’s a tall, light skinned, redhead.”

“His hair is more a dirty blond, brownish color,” someone else says.

“No, his hair clashed with his shirt, which was red, so he’s a redhead,” the other woman says as if it is fact.

The three firefighters watch them squabbling about the rescuer’s appearance for a few seconds with confused blinks. It’s truly fascinating how normal people can act even in the face of horrifying events. They see it every day, people who are stabbed and bleeding out, but talking about the weather or complaining that the neck brace is itchy while they might be paralyzed.

Bobby, however, doesn’t have time for it, silencing the crowd as he raises his voice: “Can anyone here give us one description? Or a name? You mentioned a kid, do you still have the kid?”

“I don’t know,” the woman who first mentioned the kid says. “He fell off the truck. It’s why he dove off it again. Didn’t hesitate for a second. It was when the tide receded.” She calls out. “Did anyone see his kid?”

“Yeah, we got him here,” a voice from the back of the crowd calls back. “He managed to grab onto a windowsill a street down.”

“Bring him here,” Bobby calls back.

Eddie is focusing on wrapping the man’s hand, since he still has a job to do. They can’t look for every person, but it’s good to have descriptions of people who are out here so they can get an overview of the total victim count. Maybe give some family out there some closure.

However, he looks up when he hears a sharp intake from Bobby. That’s never a good sound and it seems even worse when he sees Bobby. He’s become white and looks sickened at what is coming towards them through the parting crowd.

He looks to what Bobby might be seeing that is horrifying him this much. It’s a short woman carrying a kid, looking to be between seven or nine. Probably eight. The kid is wearing a yellow striped shirt and brown pants, on his head is a mop full of curls and a strap to hold his glasses in place…

Horror overtakes him too as the kid starts to look more and more familiar. Thoughtlessly he abandons the man’s wound as he gets up from his squat, ignoring the “Hey!” the man lets out.

He feels like he can’t breathe as the woman softly says: “He’s looking for his papi,” before she turns the kid towards them, indeed revealing a face Eddie would usually love to see, but not in these circumstances. Never in these circumstances.

“Christopher?”

Indeed it’s Chris, who blinks more water out of his eyes, before his eyes focus on Eddie. The moment he recognizes him, his face crumbles and he cries out: “Daddy!”

People all but jump out of his way as he rushes towards the woman, realization dawning on their faces of what that must mean for the relationship between him and their rescuer. Eddie’s mind isn’t even there yet, too focused on Chris.

Eddie snatches Chris out of the woman’s arms, hugging him close to his chest as he chokes: “Oh my god, Chris.”

“Daddy,” Chris cries, clutching Eddie as tightly as he can, sobbing into his shoulder much like he’d done in the hospital, now already about four months ago.

He runs his fingers all over Chris’s body, feeling for injuries, relieved when he doesn’t find any broken ribs or other broken bones. He forces Chris’s face away from his shoulder, cupping his cheek as he feels his skull and checks his pupils. “What were you doing out here, mijo?”

“We were going to the pier to celebrate my good grade. I was sad because you weren’t going to be here and papi wanted to cheer me up,” Chris sniffles. “Then the water was gone.”

Suddenly his brain comes back online from where it had dropped off this plane of existence in the face of worrying about Chris. About his son. The description Marissa gave them of their rescuer comes back to him…

‘He’s tall, very tall, and white. Some of the debris must have hit him in the face, because he has a bruise on his eye. He’s blond.’

Buck.

Oh god, Buck.

Eddie maneuvers Chris onto his hip with practiced ease, numb hands fumbling for his phone as he unlocks it and goes to his gallery. Without Buck there, he takes even less photos than he normally would, so his recent pictures all still have Buck in them.

He clicks one blindly and turns the screen back to the other woman – he still hasn’t heard her name and he doesn’t care much either – as he desperately asks: “Is this- Is this him? Is this the man that pulled you out?”

“Y- Yeah, yeah, that’s him,” she stammers, slightly overwhelmed by his intensity.

No.

Just no.

A minute ago, Buck was far from this and at home. He was safe. Now he’s somewhere out here in this hellhole, probably alone, maybe even injured and definitely not back to full strength yet, no matter how far he’s come with his PT.

Buck was out here to cheer Chris up, because Eddie hasn’t been home. If he’d only gone home, then they would be there now. Safe. Now, he has a scared Chris in his arms and Buck is missing. He is missing. And Eddie might never get to see him again.

It’s suddenly a lot harder to breathe and his whole world falls apart around him. He is supposed to find a way to come home. He’s supposed to come home to Buck, he can’t be out here. He can’t be injured or worse. He hoped this disaster was a sign to come home, not a sign that he’s losing it all before he can even try to fix it.

Eddie has to find him. He has to find him right now. Bosko’s hypothetical from earlier is reality and Eddie knows now better than before that she was right. He will do anything to make sure Buck is okay. That he is found.

A hand on his shoulder startles him and he spins around to the source. It’s Bobby, giving him a concerned and sympathetic look, his own heartbreak and fear mirrored on the Captain’s face.

“It’s Buck,” he finally manages. “Buck is out there.”

“And we’ll find him,” Bobby assures him. “But you’re too close to this now, Eddie. We both know that. You’re compromised. Take Bosko to the VA hospital and help out there. You can’t be out on the field anymore either.”

~~

A/N:

TSUNAMI ARC! TSUNAMI ARC! I am so fucking thrilled to be here, I’ve been wanting to write an AU of that arc for so long now, so I’m gonna go hog wild! (Also place your bets now people, is Eddie gonna listen to Bobby)

[daisyswift3]

The tortured poets were quite clever to intentionally throw in red herrings like the 12/13/24 and Friday the 13th hints making us think the mass coming out would happen end of 2024. But us falling for these red herrings was all part of the story. I realized the 🫚 message abt the volunteer and the magic show was abt us true fans (the volunteer) falling for these red herrings while solving the secret/story of us puzzle. See my tags on this post ⬇️

“Be as clever as a god translating seeds of hope” message + the volunteer who gets bitten by a snake message -> The tortured poets knew us gaylors w good pattern recognition would take the bait and think the “12 (Dec), 34 (Taylor’s age in 2024)” and birthday cakes were easter eggs for a mass coming out either on 12/13/24 or 12/31/24 and we did take the bait (we were bitten by the snake). But then on New Years nothing happened (the box was lifted and the phone was left untouched). BUT this was all by design. For some reason they needed us to fall for the red herrings and spread the dandelion seeds. I think they might be using our falling for the red herrings to throw off SB^2 and the other ppl trying to thwart them so that the mass coming out goes exactly as planned.

“Be as clever as a god translating seeds of hope” = every bait and switch was a work of art. Seeds = secrets or the secret of us (5th and 7th 🎃 message). We did solve most of the puzzle correctly, it was just the timing that was off. They gave us some crumbs of hope abt the mass coming out or revolution but cleverly threw in red herrings.

I think the 1, 2 see what they drew 🫚 message was actually meant for this yr and that the Halloween (Oct = 10 = turn of the decade) when the final act ends is actually this yrs’ Halloween. I think the laying it on thick in June of last yr w 🏈 was a red herring bc Taylor knows we have very good pattern recognition and she needed to throw us off the trail a bit so that her enemies didn’t catch onto her plan and the exact timing. She’s keeping everyone on their toes bc again every bait and switch was a work of art and she can’t be thwarted again. And the midnights vinyl clock is for this yr as well where each quarter is the rough outline of her plan (each hr represents each month of the yr). I think this is actually what Taylor was referring to when she said she was going to try to hint at sth 3 yrs in advance; Midnights was released Oct 2022 so 3 yrs later is Oct 2025 (11th 🎃 message abt returning home from exile on Halloween). And the For now she slumbers poem abt the breadcrumbs relates to the SNL skit abt Sabrina queer signaling. They leave breadcrumbs or small easter eggs and then loaves of bread or big ones. It feels like we’re being strung along bc that’s exactly what’s happening. They’re breadcrumbing us and giving us just enough hints to be able to see the true story in the background but also some red herrings so that it discredits us and we just look insane and not too many ppl fall down the rabbit hole.

The ides of March ♠️ riddle is for March of this yr and sth big is going to happen maybe KK’s divorce announcement (🌋 “heartbreak is loss. divorce is a piece of paper.” … crumble it up and toss it. burn it, if you must). This 🌋 message was received on 11/9 and there have been a lot of 911 hints. I think the PR PR PR PUBLISH 🎁 message means Taylor will do all the work of bearding and ruining her reputation so that KK will look like a saint when she comes back into Taylor’s life again. That’s how the ♠️ riddles started out so I think they will reuse that same PR strategy (the 2019 mastersheist ruined her initial plans -> the FUCKx13 07/01/2019 ♠️ riddle). Karlie will get a divorce in March and then they will rekindle their friendship which is what will start Taylor’s fall from grace. Plus the ides of March is when Julius Caesar was assassinated in Shakespeare’s play and his last words in the play are “Then fall, Caesar” which matches w all the fall/autumn and falling from the pedestal easter eggs. I think swifties (non-gaylors) are the ones who will metaphorically assassinate Taylor once they realize she’s been lying to them this whole time. This is also why Taylor was Marie Antoinette in the bejeweled mv (Marie was beheaded during the French REVOLUTION).

And I think Taylor is gonna keep teasing rep and debut so that swifties are distracted by that (🎃 and 🫚 messages abt the chess game and magic and “reputation is illusion, expectation the magician”). All magic tricks work bc of sleight of hand where the magician does sth showy w one hand (PR/bearding/red herrings/debutation easter eggs) while making the real moves w the other hand (The Secret/Story of Us, the cracks in the facade widening into a chasm). I think the fall from grace starts this spring (break) and ends in the actual fall (9, 10 the final act ends).

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 The New Year midnight is nearly upon us. As we March into the sunset, 2022 is not the only thing that will expire at midnight. A fresh page…a new chapter. Au revoir, à bientôt en tournée. - December 30, 2022

-> March being capitalized in this message is another indicator that sth big will happen in March.

I think ivy is the key to knowing the timing bc it mentions the crescent moon and “spring break” so March. And that matches with the 2nd 🎃 message. So I think the fall/autumn stuff was kind of a red herring (they wanted us to think sth would happen fall 2024) and that it’s referring more to a metaphorical fall(ing down) that starts in the spring or early summer.

2nd 🎃 message (“The time draws near, springtime sunshine causing small drips and fractures”) = falling through the ice (the bolter) or falling from grace = (spring break)s loose = March = house burning down. Also ivy has the burning house metaphor and obviously that connects to the lover house in the eras tour which symbolizes her willingly burning down her entire career. And I think this connects to that 2020 Spotify wrapped video that had March highlighted.

Lastly, Gracie has a March apparently playlist which has some very interesting songs. I’ve been following her playlists and I believe they are a giant easter egg that supplement the riddles and messages.

Swimming -> Taylor diving into the stage and swimming to the Midnights era; Gracie’s Risk “God, I'm jumpin' in the deep end, It's more fun to swim in, Heard the risk is drownin', but I'm gonna take it” (this song is abt the tortured poets risking everything for the revolution and also abt us true fans going off the deep end believing this conspiracy theory bc we’re so invested in it)

Early To The Party -> ♠️ “Ides of March, they say beware but prior till the day unveils, one or two may see right through, the nine that sit in its view.” - 1/30/2020. I believe Karlie is the 9 because she was the one who carried their kids and pregnancy lasts 9 months -> all the messages and easter eggs abt pregnancy, “pregnant with possibility” (x)(x); plus the eras tour ended with 9 Canada shows and Taylor started a countdown on night 1 that ended on night 9 (x)(x)(x)(x)(x) -> Karlie’s It’s the Final Countdown Spotify playlist + “Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. And also…hello!” 👋 + “Endings are beginnings…A new era to flourish and thrive.” And this relates back to the 911 easter eggs. 9 = 🤰and 11 = K (11th letter of the alphabet) for KK

Daisy -> this is pretty self explanatory 🌼

Don’t Delete The Kisses -> “all of the letters - addressed to you and sealed with a kiss”; Sabrina Carpenter (who is one of the main characters in this story) releasing her Short n Sweet album with all the kisses💋 and having them all over her body on tour (x)(x)(x)(x)(x)

Ariana’s eternal sunshine album -> Wicked/The Wizard of Oz/Goodbye Yellow Brick Road/Karma mv

At Seventeen -> 17 yr old boy named James (Taylor)

Hey Nineteen -> Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve which is an allegory abt how the music industry forced her into the closet around 19 yrs old

🌋 it’s been a while. don’t worry, i didn’t forget about you. all of the letters - addressed to you and sealed with a kiss - have been resting on the pillow that used to be yours. maybe i should’ve addressed them to the fire, like i said i would …

[twig-tea]

Some background on Dear Dakanda for the TOL rewatch

Thanks to @bengiyo's idea and @lurkingshan's incredible energy and skill for organization, I joined the Theory of Love Romcom Rewatch starting this week, alongside @solitaryandwandering and @neuroticbookworm. It was really interesting starting with an older Thai film–this was one of the reasons I was immediately drawn to this project, I wanted to get exposure to some of the older Thai media that has been a shared touchstone of these content creators, in order to get more of the references. Theory of Love does a lot of the work laying out which films it’s referencing for the audience, which makes this easier; plus I just love that show so you don't need to twist my arm to get me to start a rewatch. 

The first film was Dear Dakanda (2005); in Thai, the name is puen sanit i.e. best friend (or close friend), which is also the name of the first episode of TOL. Shan already wrote about the film itself, and how it relates to the first episode, but as we were watching I was noticing a lot of ties to QL and so I wanted to capture some of that here. What follows is what I was able to find on this film based on internet searches, MyDramaList, and my own knowledge of QL from having been watching it for a decade. I'm by no means a Thai media expert, and coming at this film twenty years later, so if anyone else has context they want to add, please do!

Side note: Why is this interesting? There is something I really like about how identifiably queer people are just around in Thai media, both behind and in front of the camera, and it was interesting to see that in something 20 years old. It’s also just neat to see how small the industry is, and to notice similarities between the work these people produce. I’m well aware that we can’t conflate working on queer stories with being out, and that, especially back in the early 2000s, being out was often a barrier to creating queer media and would mean you could not get work, and that the on-screen opportunities for queer people were often very stereotyped and problematic, so I’m not trying to glamourize the past here. I just think it’s all worth noticing and thinking about. 

This film is based on a bestselling and award-winning short novel, The Red Mailbox (2000).

The producer, Keng, puts a lot of what follows in context. Keng was a screenwriter for the film The Iron Ladies (2000) (shout-out once again to @happypotato48 for putting that one on my radar), and started his own production house which was absorbed by GMM and was the predecessor to GDH 559. He’s produced a bunch of QL over the years, including Friend Zone, Tootsies and the Fake (2019), and most recently Flat Girls (2025). He also produced How To Make Millions before Grandma Dies (2024) and co-executive produced The Paradise of Thorns (2024). And, relevant to what's about to follow, he produced My Girl (2003).

The director, S, has also directed several works with queer elements, including Girl from Nowhere, Wake Up Ladies 2: Very Complicated, and the original Club Friday. This was his first solo directing gig, and folks were anticipatory of it after his work as one of the six co-screenwriter/directors of My Girl (2003), for which he co-won a Thailand National Film Association award for best director (this was the first of any of the six's solo efforts). He didn't win that award again for this film, but he was nominated, which is pretty impressive for a first solo outing. The other screenwriter/directors for My Girl have cameos in Dear Dakanda as seniors at university. It's worth noting that there is a character in this film that is apparently reprised from My Girl (the barber), so those following along should be on the lookout for that!

The cinematographer, Beat, won a Thailand National Film Association award for this film. He has also worked regularly with S since, on Girl from Nowhere and Wake Up Ladies 2, and he was the cinematographer for the BL Not Me (as well as several other GMMTV shows folks in this space might recognize, like F4).

One of the two ADs, Petch, also directed an episode of Girl from Nowhere and has since become a director for Konghtup; he’s co-directed both Two Worlds (BL) and Apple My Love (GL).

The other AD Nontra was one of the screenwriters for the original Hormones (2008) film [which I will be honest I haven't seen and don't know if it has any queer elements the way the show does]. The screenwriter for this film, Nitis, was another co-writer for the original Hormones film, and also won a Thailand National Film Association award for this film. 

And finally, the composer Vichaya works regularly with GDH and composed the original score for I Told Sunset About You and I Promised You the Moon, as well as Paradise of Thorns, Cutie Pie, Tootsies and the Fake, The Stranded, Friend Zone, and more. The score felt like a familiar friend while we were watching this film.

The actors were also familiar faces. The lead actor playing Moo/Khaiyoi, Sunny, was the het romance lead in My Ambulance (which is the Nadao Bangkok series that first included Bilikin and PP as a paired side couple–one that was so popular, they used the demand to see them again to fund the creation of ITSAY). 

The actor playing the eponymous Dakanda, Noon, had a bit part in Gay Ok Bangkok s2

The actor playing Nui the rival love interest, Ae, had a supporting role in Mhom Ped Sawan (GL); before that she was the inappropriately flirty client in The Trainee (shoutout to @my-rose-tinted-glasses for noting that she tried to come between Off and Gun in that, which is a very hilarious coincidence); she was also in Vice Versa (which is extra funny because Gun appeared as Third the character from Theory of Love in that show). [Also, Vice Versa people feel free to correct me because I haven’t rewatched that show, but wasn’t her character sapphic? There was definitely something between her character Joob and Jeab’s character Dol, though I can’t remember if it went anywhere.] 

All three of these main actors were nominated for a best actor, best actress, and best supporting actress award from the Thailand National Film Association respectively.

Knowing that all of these people were involved in this film and then moved on to work on these shows and films that many of us have seen and loved helps give credence to the parallels we noticed while watching (e.g. the way visuals and characters from this film clearly influenced ITSAY as Shan mentioned in her post; there were also definitely jokes about Ae’s role in this film in Vice Versa that I did not get at the time). 

[raccoonfallsharder]

hello, friends! i wanted to give you a quick update. i am certainly on the mend right now. i feel better than i have in probably a week or more, and though i am still not clear of pneumonia and all its complications in my life lol, i am hoping to be almost completely back to normal by the end of this week, if all goes well.

i also wanted to thank you all for your kindness and also your threats and affectionate insults. thank you, so much, for caring. the world can be a hard place to live, and we are encouraged in so many ways to live these small atomized lives. but no matter how tenuous or fleeting our internet-interactions are, they are still real, and i appreciate you reaching out to tell me to rest, and to send me your well-wishes. it truly does mean so much, not only as a moment of connection, but also as a reminder of how well people can care for each other, even those they barely know or never met. you all inspire and uplift me, and i am grateful for it.

for those of you more curious about the details (and the absolutely absurdity of my friday night this week), you can read on. i tend to fall into irreverent medical narrative monologuing (as i do with everything else lol) but i will try to keep it brief.

content warnings for doctors, medical stuff, pain and illness, emergencies, and hospitals.

here's the basic timeline of my week lol:

on tuesday, i got really sick. i tend to not have a lot of normal symptoms for things (i have only had a fever once in my life, and it was NOT the time i had appendicitis, a ruptured intestine, or kidney stones), and figuring out when i don't feel well takes a lot of conscious effort on my part. plus i gaslight myself hard. these are all things i'm working on and have gotten a lot better at - which is probably the only reason why i went to urgent care instead of convincing myself this was "just a flu" and trying to take care of myself at home. i had been having side pain as well, which i had attributed to a pulled muscle, but something in me was afraid i had maybe done something else and caused an injury that got infected or something. i don't know, it just felt connected.

urgent care diagnosed me with probable pneumonia (they couldn't find it with the stethoscope, but they were confident it was there) and started treating that. they believed the strained muscle was not related but told me to come back on friday with an x-ray if my other symptoms didn't improve.

on friday morning, we went to get an x-ray done at 7am and hit up urgentcare on the way back. the x-ray said i was clear on pneumonia, but my cough was worse and my nausea had returned (no fever anymore though, thank goodness). my muscle pain in my back was also so much worse, presumably because of all my coughing, so they gave me some meds for my lungs and for my muscle pain.

now we get to friday evening, probably 5pm. i have a coughing fit with an unsupported back - and i scream. i think i blacked out for a second. my partner came in running. i couldn't move. i've never been in so much pain in my life, and i have a stupid-high pain tolerance. (this is another part of my issue with figuring out when i don't feel well). at this point, the pain had suddenly migrated. it felt like it was grinding down through my flank and into my groin. the location felt very similar to a kidney stone but it was unlike anything i had ever experienced before. i was sweating, trying to walk to the car and then up through the hospital doors. the guard at the front was like "get this woman a wheelchair" lollol.

it was a pretty crowded night so when we were admitted, we were stuck in the hall, which was fine by me. the doctors and nurses were all lovely (my partner believes we were the favorites on the floor because we are very easy-going and also funny lol. i think he has a slightly-inflated view of us but whatever, one of us is wrong and i'm happy if it's me). anyway, the med staff all seemed to think - like me - that perhaps all my symptoms had actually been a kidney stone, and that it was the cough that was unrelated, rather than the muscle pain. so eventually i go back a CT. The scan comes back an hour or so later and, surprise, it is still pneumonia (of course it was able to pick up what an x-ray couldn't). What it also noticed is that the pneumonia had inflamed my entire diaphragm. i do not remember learning much about the diaphragm in school but i knew from logic that it had something to do with respiration because of my choir- and stage-inclined friends. but it does a lot of other things as well (like puppeteering the bladder) and impacts a lot of systems and also, apparently, causes a lot of fucking pain when inflamed.

so. they had already given me some pretty hefty anti-inflammatories. they tell me they'd actually like to replace the seven other drugs the urgent care doctors have me on with one different one. it should totally knock out the pneumonia, especially since i will be starting with a full course of the medication after already tackling the pneumonia with the other antibiotics since tuesday. this sounds great to me, and i say sure. they give me the new drug and discharge me, more quickly than i have ever seen a discharge take place, and i was on my way - already feeling better than i had in days thanks to the antiinflammatory they'd given me before.

here's where the night gets spicy

we get in the car, i'm feeling better than i have in days, it's all good. we hit the freeway and i'm like. huh. my face feels funny.

my partner's like.... what.

i'm like, i don't know? my face feels funny? not itchy or anything, but like.... weird?

he says, should we go back?

i'm like... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i genuinely cannot identify this sensation.

then something switches, and i'm like... oh yeah, okay. my mouth and face all feel like... not itchy, but fuzzy. staticky. and while i have not had this kind of reaction before (like everything else, my allergies show up weirdly), i have heard about it. so i say, yeah.... i think we should go back. my throat's a little tight, but there's no swelling on my face, no hives - because again, i am weirdly symptomatic. and because i'm aces at gaslighting myself, i say, maybe i'm overreacting?

which is when i realize that at some point, my partner has called 911. i answer some questions but it's definitely hard to keep my eyes open. and then the car is pulled over, and there are EMTs. and my partner tells them i've been passing out at thirty second intervals. i tell them i'm just being a drama queen and i'm probably overreacting. they apparently think that's some bullshit and i get my very first ambulance ride. i'm phasing in and out - pretty badly hypotensive with really low blood pressure, but still - no visible swelling. my throat is tight enough that my voice sounds like that of a ninety-year-old who's been smoking four packs a day her entire life, but there's nothing they can SEE, other than that i'm "cold and clammy" (rude, lol). still, they stick me with epinephrine and give me some O2 and take me right back to where i come from.

one of the nurses from earlier sees me being wheeled in (to a room, this time - no hallways for repeat customers, i guess) and she is like, "NO! miss dae! why are you back?!!" and i say, "because i missed you. and i wanted the room upgrade."

and then i start giggling hysterically.

and the registering nurse asks me if i consent to have my insurance billed and i say, "FUCK YEAH. fuck those guys" and giggle some more. i don't know if that was the epinephrine or just pure delirium at that point.

then i start crying because i feel so bad about coming back, again. all my self-gaslighting really coming out to the forefront. and they're like, NO, you did absolutely what you should have done, don't be silly.

they get me all settled and are shooting me up with a ton of antihistamines, and finally let me partner back, and my voice still sounds like rocks going through a meat grinder but you know what? you know what antihistimines do? THEY DECREASE INFLAMMATION. so my diaphragm is feeling better than it has in like, a week.

my doctor from earlier comes in, and he clearly felt so bad about everything. he tells me to return to my previous course of drugs, and puts this one in my file as another allergen. after about an hour of fluids and watching me, they release us. we get home at 3:30am and crawl into bed, safe as houses.

now, i can't really say "the end." the pneumonia's not gone yet, and i still have some ongoing pain from my diaphragm. additionally, a coughing fit that happened later that night does seem to have damaged an old surgery site (probably because of the diaphragm muscle, actually), so i need to get that checked out this week too. BUT. i am feeling so much better than i have all week. i am privileged to have decent insurance and while we do have to live pretty frugally, we make ends meet. we're lucky that we will be able to take care of these bills when they come.

and honestly? that shit is FUNNY. (i mean, for me. definitely not for my poor partner who probably lost twenty-seven years off his life; pray for him). i can't wait to really perfect the way i tell this story because it's HILARIOUS. like. what the fuck

anyway if you actually read all this, first of all, wow. second of all. i appreciate you. thank you for worrying about me, for wondering about me, and for caring in general. i'm so grateful, and i hope that you have everything you need, today and every day moving forward.

[faedotexe]

So i'm working on a tiny roll & write about being a giant dragonness and conquering the land and burninating the countryside and uh I'm kind of trying to make """"""art""""" for it lmao

chat is this cringe

[elminx]

As we ease our way into February

Lol. Just kidding. February is a lot. We just need to understand that out of the gates. This is the big ramp-up for March, which includes two personal planet retrogrades (Mercury AND Venus) and eclipse season. The energy is going to start rolling downhill, and we are going to either need to keep up or get the fuck out of the way.

Today is a banger that involves all three of our personal planets. Mercury in Aquarius trines retrograde Jupiter in Gemini, which is overall positive - a good day to work on your words, whatever that means to you. But relationships of all kinds will be rocky at best, with Venus conjunct to our North Node at 29° Pisces and retrograde Mars in Cancer Square to Chiron in Aries.

Someone (probably a lot of someones) is hurting today, and this is the result of a course of action that was put into place some time ago. Today may be a cosmic reminder for many people that actions have very real consequences that echo out into our futures. Yeah, consequences don't HAVE to be bad, but this time around, it really looks like they are. If it's not about your Others, work on not taking it out on them because we are knee-deep in breakup season, and there isn't much forgiveness to go around.

It's worth noting that both Venus and Mars are in their retrograde cycles, so we will see these same aspects again - Venus twice more as she retrogrades back over the North Node and then passes it a third time in forward motion, and Mars as he moves forward after his retrograde.

Still, tomorrow is a new day, and we will care a lot less as Venus enters Aries - the sign of her exile - on Tuesday. In Aries, Venus is a fighter, not a lover, and we must contend with that. We probably even NEED that, but it won't make this upcoming Valentine's Day season any easier. Nor will it help us to negotiate or work with other people to make the changes that need to be made in the months ahead.

Additionally, Jupiter stations direct at 11° Gemini, which IS a major boon. Jupiter is quite out of place in Gemini, the sign of its exile, and this was being exasperated by its retrograde cycle. I won't say that luck is back on track (yet), but we're getting there. Jupiter will leave Gemini in the spring, and we should look forward to that eventuality.

Small favors should not be overlooked right now.

We get a lull through midweek, but it may be the calm before the storm.

On Friday, Neptune meets up with the North Node at 28° Pisces. I don't think that this will be a groundbreaking day if only because Neptune obscures by its very nature, but it will be long-reaching. This major planetary stellium: Saturn, Neptune, and the North Node in Pisces and Venus, barely in Aries, will be joined by the Sun and Mercury in the months ahead - this is it. This is that sticky point I've been talking so much about.

We are here. We may not know where here is yet. But it IS happening. Stay aware and take notes, what happens now will matter more than it might at first appear.

Both the Sun and Mercury in Aquarius sextile Chiron in Aries on Saturday before meeting up in conjunction with one another on Sunday. Whatever is being revealed right now has some serious pain attached to it - it's wise to attend to this pain, not look away from it.

Also, on Sunday, retrograde Mars in Cancer trines Saturn in Pisces - these consequences are real. It's long past time for us to run away from them.

We all need to sit with this. It isn't going to be pretty.

But it is where we are.

Energy Update: February 2025

February is a "2" Universal Month [2 (February) + 9 (2025) = 11 = 1+1 = 2] in a "9" Universal Year. Two is often a decision number; as we move down the path, we find a fork in the road and face our first choices. This is consistent with the astrological transits of the month; our personal planets are marching ever closer to the divide between 29° Pisces and 00° Aries - THE degree of the year. What we do now matters, but we may not know why yet.

The Set Up

We begin the month with the Sun, Mercury, and Pluto in Aquarius; Venus, Saturn, Neptune, and the North Node in Pisces; retrograde Mars in Cancer; retrograde Jupiter in Gemini; and Uranus in Taurus. By month's end, the Sun and Mercury will have moved into Pisces and Venus into Aries. Additionally, Mars and Jupiter will have stationed direct.

The Nitty Gritty

Aspect-wise, this is a pretty sparse month, but what we do see packs a pretty big punch. Mars is rounding out the end of his retrograde cycle (thank the gods), but both Mercury and Venus will retrograde in the months ahead. In fact, Venus is already in her pre-retrograde shadow as she moves through Pisces and Aries all month long. This month can be seen as a bit of a setup for what is to come in March, April, and May as each planet inches forward toward its inevitable conjunction to 00° Aries. I have written about this as the conjunction of the year here, so I won't go into a lot of detail about it, but I will make reference to it.

Mars

Mars has been in the spotlight since he began his retrograde journey at 17° Cancer on 12/6. This month, he makes the last legs of his trip before stationing direct on 2/23. We are deep in the weeds of Mars in Cancer now, which is unfortunate because Mars is at his fall in the cardinal water sign. A planet is considered in its fall when it is the opposing sign to that of its exaltation (here, Capricorn); this is an indication that the sign's natural aptitudes are in misalignment with the nature of the planet.

Cancer is the sign of the crab, and as a cardinal/moving sign, it moves like a crab - sideways, zigzagging toward its targets. This movement is highly inefficient; once Cancer grabs on, it holds on for dear life. Cancer types like the world to believe they are a moveable sign - they carry their homes on their backs, after all! - but often, they are so obsessed with what has already happened that they forget to look forward to the future. Cancer naturally rules the 4th house, the nadir of the horoscope wheel, the natural domain of the past - our childhoods and family setups. All Cancer types must watch out for false nostalgia or adherence to a perfect memory that doesn't fit the world as it is now.

I want to be clear here that I am not trying to throw Cancer under the bus: every sign has positive and negative traits associated with it. It's Cancer's job to REMEMBER the past; it's a challenging task, and someone has got to do it. The problem comes when Cancer gets STUCK in the past. This problem is because Mars moves backward in the sign most obsessed with the past.

I shouldn't need to point out the obvious parallels between this astrological transit and what is going on with US politics right now. What I can do is allow a broad view: sometimes, we need to return to review the past because someone has not yet learned their lessons. This is always very triggering for those out ahead of the pack. Nobody wants to stop for the slowpoke, least of all Mars.

One of the things that the study of astrological transits teaches us is that we often need to take three steps forward and then two steps back. This is the nature of retrograde cycles; they allow us a broader viewpoint as we retrace the degrees of the horoscope where we have recently been. These should be seen as a cosmic lesson - for society and sometimes for our personal lives. This is true of all planetary retrogrades, but it holds doubly true when a planet retrogrades back through Cancer, the sign that remembers.

We are in the thick of it now, and this is often when retrogrades feel their very worst. It is obvious who has their eyes wide open and is paying attention and who has chosen to hide their heads in the sand to play pretend. Not everyone wants or cares to change. This can be one of the most challenging realities to face.

Because Cancer lives at least partially in the past, they can be among the last to change. Often, they hold on with their crabby hands as if their lives depend on it. When Mars is retrograde in the sign of the crab, everyone is a little bit more reticent to see their part of the problem. Because the crab is so often thwarted (in that others want change while they want to cling to what they know and the comfort that brings), they frequently resort to emotional manipulation.

Think of the myth of the good old days when things were "simpler." Think of the parent that demands you obey because you owe them. Life isn't tit for tat - some obligations cannot be repaid. We cannot go backward; the past is done. We must grapple with these things as we move through the last month of this rough retrograde cycle.

Mars only makes one significant aspect this month, a trine to Saturn in Pisces on 2/9. I expect the days around this to carry the weight of these retrograde burdens, as Mars and Saturn are traditionally considered malefic planets. Whatever needs to be shaken loose will undoubtedly fall apart during this time, but it won't be pretty. Expect the worst, and hope for the best. Sometimes, things NEED to fall apart.

It's a scant comfort when shit is hitting the fan, of course.

As Mars exits its retrograde at 17° Cancer on 2/23, Mercury in Pisces is in a watery trine to help sort out the pieces. Verbally, if possible. Talk things out in your personal life on or after the 23rd, and take real actionable steps to rectify any situations that have come up since December. Remember that it will be another two months before Mars is out of his post-retrograde shadow, so things will continue to arise for re-evaluation.

The Lights: The Sun and the Moon

As the Sun moves through Aquarius, it will conjunct Mercury at 20° on 2/9 and square Uranus on 2/11. (Mercury squares Uranus on 2/10 on the day in between). This is our big Ah-Ha moment for the month. If you're into truth-seeking or truth-revealing, these are the days to work with. Anytime the Sun squares Uranus, the chances of sudden changes go up, and so long as Uranus is in Taurus, the chances of natural disasters also increase. Uranus is the lightning strike on the Tower card in the tarot; it is unexpected and generally unavoidable. Take that as you will.

Our full moon at 24° Leo on 2/12 forms a t-square to Uranus in Taurus; this will be a high-energy day. Expect the unexpected. Uranus tends to turn the energy up to 11, which will heighten the intensity of our full moon, which is already quite intense. If you're sensitive, you may need to take steps to discharge the excess - whether through physical movement or grounding. Do what works for you, of course. It's worth noting that Uranus is the modern ruler of Aquarius; this is a great day to do magic for activism or anything that affects the greater good of society as a whole, the domain of Aquarius.

Our Leo Full Moon is a 7/9 Full Moon.

5 (Leo Moon) + 11 (Aquarius Sun) = 16 = 1+6 = 7. 7 (Leo full Moon) + 2 (February 2025) = 9.

You can work with the number 7 to seek the best for everyone or the number 9 to represent endings and completions. Note here that 2025 is a "9" Universal year, so this number is further highlighted during this time. The combination of these two numbers makes it a great day to Hex the Patriarchy or do other magic to end the influence of the current administration.

As our Sun enters Pisces on 2/18, we enter the last astrological month of the year. There's a lot of pressure to wrap things up before spring when the Sun crests 00° Aries and our hot-point degree of the year. Pisces carries a lot of dark moon energy naturally as it rules the 12th house of the unconscious, which goes doubly for this year. Pisces is also the new home of our North Node, which is already conjunct with Saturn and Neptune at the other end of the sign.

The lunar nodes indicate where our eclipses will occur, so we may begin to taste eclipse season on the horizon, but we need to get through our new moon at 09° Pisces on 2/27 first.

This solar-lunar conjunction makes a wide stellium with Saturn, whose sitting eleven degrees away at 21°, so fate may be hanging heavily in the air. This is triply dark moon energy: firstly from the natural lack of lunar light, secondly from the nature of the Pisces new moon/12th house, and thirdly because it is the last lunar event before our upcoming eclipse season. If you are in that hole, know you are right on time.

Our Pisces New Moon is a 6/8 New Moon.

12 (Pisces Moon) + 12 (Pisces Sun) = 24 = 2+4 = 6. 6 (Pisces New Moon) + 2 (February 2025) = 8.

With 8 energy in play, expect to experience the highest highs and the lowest lows, perhaps both almost at the same time as one another. Eight is the number of the ouroboros and the infinity sign; you can work with either of these symbols during this time to help move through the energy rather than getting stuck in it. This is the perfect lunar event for shadow work, divination, and anything you want to do unseen or in the dark.

The Lunar Nodes

It is worth noting the recent movement of our lunar nodes, who passed from the axis of Aries-Libra to the axis of Pisces-Virgo in January. The nodes are not physical bodies in our skies but mathematical points that indicate where the Sun, Moon, and Earth need to be in the skies to create our solar and lunar eclipses. They are always read as a pair: the North Node (traditionally the Head of the Dragon) is our point of forward-facing fate, the area of life society as a whole will need to focus on, and our South Node (traditionally the Tail of the Dragon) is the point of past-facing fate, the area of life we are moving away from as a collective.

Because we are entering Pisces season at the end of February, we can discern that our first eclipse season is on the horizon. This will be mixed-sign eclipses. As the lunar nodes are still on the cusp of the signs, we will experience a lunar eclipse in Virgo and a solar eclipse in Aries in March.

As we exit our new moon on 2/27, the energy leading up to our set of eclipses will rise. This tends to create much tension; this should be viewed as business as usual. I will speak more about our upcoming eclipses soon.

Mercury

As Mercury moves through Aquarius, they trine retrograde Jupiter in Gemini on 2/3, a check-in on our luck. Mercury is the native ruler of Gemini, but Jupiter is quite unhappy there (both in its retrograde and fall). Jupiter has been out of commission for a while now, and it's starting to show. When you can't rely on Jupiter, you must make your own luck. Mercury is a trickster, after all. This is a concept worth exploring at the beginning of the month.

Mercury passes across the boundaries of the Sun on 2/9, a position often known as Mercury Cazimi or Mercury combust. Traditional astrologers believed that the Sun overpowered the nature of Mercury, and times of Mercury combustion created slow, unintelligent types. I will say that I was born with Mercury conjunct to the Sun within 1 degree, and it is obvious how wordy I am. Mercury cazimi is a reminder that we are coming up fast on our first Mercury retrograde of the year, which will go from 09° Aries to 25° Pisces in March. Stay tuned for that, as it will coincide with Venus's retrograde over almost exactly the same degrees - this is the big meat of our spring season.

As Mercury crosses over the Sun, it also squares Uranus in Taurus - Uranus is often believed to be the higher octave of Mercury. Where Mercury is thought, Uranus is pure inspiration. Stay open to whatever channels are available to you during this time. This will be a great day for writers, inventors, artists, and diviners.

On 2/14, Mercury enters Pisces, the sign of Mercury's fall, as it is the opposite sign of one Mercury rules (Virgo). We might need to watch out for how we speak about ourselves and others during this time. Are we being truthful? Are we being kind? Mercury is concerned with precision in Virgo, and Pisces - ruled by the amorphous Neptune- is anything but. Sometimes, it is good to blur the lines, but often, Mercury in Pisces goes too far. Note here that Mercury's retrograde will include the end of Pisces, the sign of its fall, and Venus will be in her fall while she is in Aries - and Mars is in his fall while retrograding through Cancer.

This is a hint that none of us are at our best.

Maybe we need to judge less and accept ourselves for where we are.

As Mercury moves into Pisces, they square Jupiter on 2/20 - again, we may feel out of time (Mercury) and out of luck (Jupiter). There may be nothing that we can do about it (mutable square), but people may want to cry about it (Mercury in Pisces). Acceptance isn't easy, but it can help make sense of our lives.

As we round out the month, Mercury in Pisces trines retrograde Mars on the day he stations direct and then conjuncts Saturn on 2/25. There are consequences here. We must admit what we have done so that we can move forward.

Venus

As mentioned above, Venus is the vanguard of all of our planets that will enter 00° Aries this year - she does so for the first time on 2/4. Circle that date in your calendar; it's an important one. You may not note it as important this time around (on Venus's first pass), but what is coming up now is going to come back around again at least two more times through Venus's retrograde and possibly more as the Sun, Mercury, Saturn, and Neptune also cross this degree.

Happy spring a little bit early. Except it's not yet spring, and nobody is particularly happy about anything. Venus is in her fall in the cardinal fire sign of Aries because Aries is the opposite sign of her dominion, Libra. Venus naturally desires to play nice, smooth things over, and generally get along, while Aries is the sign of forging ahead, whatever the cost. Unless modified by a lot of watery energy, Aries types don't tend to give any shits about fitting in or playing nice. It is just their way. This costs Venus many of her best traits, and she loses her softer edges.

What if we aren't supposed to have these soft edges during this time? What if we all need to be a bit tougher, if we need to lean into what we believe and STAND UP for it? That is what Venus in Aries does best - she is, by her nature, virtually fearless.

Keep in mind that we are already in Venus's pre-retrograde shadow. This means that every degree she moves across this month will be retraced, in total, three times. She won't move more than thirteen degrees from where she is on 2/1 until 4/16 when she exits her post-retrograde shadow. This means that through a wide enough lens, she will carry the stellium with Neptune and the North Node all the way through from 2/1 to 4/16 for 75 days. In this time, the Sun will move through this stellium, and Mercury and Saturn will join it for their own retrograde cycles.

By weight, number of days in these degrees, and number of passes, Saturn certainly is the heavyweight here, but Venus is no slouch. Remember that, along with Mars, she is one of the two planets that governs how we all get along. Things might start to heat up (metaphorically) as she enters Aries early in February, and then she retrogrades and brings this heat back into Pisces, which might bring things to a true and for-real boil.

I don't say this to scare you, but we should all be prepared. From 12/6 to 4/12, all three of our personal planets will have retrogrades one after another. There is no getting along to be found or had. It won't be pretty or fun.

Set your expectations low, understanding that we are in the lead-up to this all month long. Venus retrogrades on 3/1 (also the day Mercury enters their pre-retrograde shadow at 25° Pisces), so the closer we get to March, the more apparent it might become that things aren't very copacetic. If you can't make heads or tails of other people - even your very closest - know that you are right on time. Venus slows down to a near standstill at the month's end, holding 10° Aries for an abnormally long time; this is going to feel like absolute shit - especially to anyone with a personal planet on or around 10° in any of the cardinal or fire signs.

There's just not much we can do about this except bear it.

Jupiter

After a very uncomfortable retrograde in the sign of its fall, Jupiter stations direct at 11° Gemini on 2/4, the beginning of a better day. Jupiter will move out of Gemini (finally) and into Cancer later this year - look forward to that. Our luck will return, slowly.

Looking Ahead

March is going to be a shit show; there's no way around it. Venus retrogrades on 3/1, and Mercury follows soon afterward - the two are retrograding in nearly identical ways - Venus from 10° Aries to 24° Pisces and Mercury from 09° Aries to 25° Pisces. It's going to be a rough one/two punch. And that's before we even consider eclipse season with a total lunar eclipse in Virgo and a partial solar eclipse in Aries that will form a stellium with the Sun, the Moon, and retrograde Mercury. retrograde Venus, Saturn, Neptune, and the North Node. Yep, it's a lot. Stay tuned.

The Details

2/1 - Venus conjunct Neptune 27° Pisces 2/3 - Mercury in Aquarius trine retrograde Jupiter in Gemini, retrograde Mars in Cancer square Chiron in Aries, Venus conjunct North Node 29° Pisces 2/4 - Venus enters Aries, Jupiter stations direct 11° Gemini 2/7 - Venus in Aries sextile Pluto in Aquarius, Neptune conjunct the North Node 28° Pisces 2/8 - Sun in Aquarius sextile Chiron in Aries, Mercury in Aquarius sextile Chiron in Aries 2/9 - Sun conjunct Mercury 20° Aquarius, retrograde Mars trine Saturn in Pisces 2/10 - Mercury in Aquarius square Uranus in Taurus 2/11 - Sun in Aquarius square Uranus in Taurus 2/12 - Full Moon 24° Leo 2/14 - Mercury enters Pisces 2/18 - Sun enters Pisces 2/20 - Mercury in Pisces square Jupiter in Gemini 2/23 - Mercury in Pisces trine retrograde Mars in Cancer, Mars stations direct 17° Cancer 2/25 - Mercury conjunct Saturn 20° Pisces 2/27 - New moon 09° Pisces

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[becca-e-barnes]

Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.

Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …

- 🍯

Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵‍💫

"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."

With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.

Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.

"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"

As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.

"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.

You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.

You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.

Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.

"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.

"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.

"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.

"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."

Update: Part 2

[tblsomedoodles]

FW! Mikey crochets!

he does a lot of other things too and crochet isn't his main thing (i think Raph eventually takes that as his main hobby later on) but he does do it!

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part four

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 4.3k

It didn’t stop after the first and it sure didn’t stop after the third, either. 

Depending on her schedule, you saw Alexia once or twice at most a week; most of the time it was on the night after a Barcelona match and by the next morning, she’d be gone before you even woke up. But you’d noticed her visits had been increasing in frequency lately, not to mention that sometimes she’d still be in bed when you awakened. The first time you found her still asleep beside you, you were dumbfounded, thinking it was a dream image of her in front of you. And what amazed you even further was that it kept happening.

It wasn’t an unpleasant development. In fact, it was something you gratefully welcomed. And it wasn’t just that, either. Sometimes when Alexia came over, you didn’t even have sex you just… talked: about her training and her health, her teammates’ shenanigans–and hers, of course–her family and bits of her personal life. Meanwhile you told her about places you explored and showed her photos of where you’d been. Then she’d tell you about places you could check out, food to try, and even went ahead and promised to take you to some of the places herself when she had the opportunity.

These times were rare, sure, but you found yourself enjoying her company more and more to the point you noticed yourself craving for it–found yourself missing her presence despite your constant back-and-forth messages. And still you didn’t ask where this was going for fear of ruining whatever the two of you had; you were content and you just simply wanted to watch this unfold as it was. And anyway, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to fleeting relationships, situationships–whatever you’d like to call it–because who was to say this wouldn’t end up like your previous dalliances–ending before it could ever truly begin? Despite you hoping otherwise, a large part of you already convinced yourself that this wouldn’t be anything different: just another highlight to your getaway vacation that you’d look fondly back on a few years down the line.

You had a month left in Barcelona, maybe an additional few weeks depending on the client. What could possibly go wrong?

———

A knock took your attention from your work to the door. You looked at the time–it was early evening on a Saturday and you weren’t expecting anyone. Perhaps you just imagined it? But then it came again not a minute later. You were reluctant to open it seeing as it was already dark but a ping from your phone that signalled a message from Alexia asking if you were home had you flying to the door. 

Upon opening it, you found Alexia there with Nala resting in the crook of her arm, phone in hand, and a paper bag in the other. 

“Took you long enough.” Alexia said playfully, all cool and confident but then her brows quirked upwards almost sheepishly as she said in a more tamed tone, “is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You smiled at her consideration before you ushered her in. “No, no! It’s fine, really! Come on in. Sorry, I just wasn’t comfortable opening the door when it’s dark without knowing who it was.”

“Ah, it’s my bad. I should’ve let you know before dropping by.” She bent down and let Nala loose before she untied her shoes and left them by the door. Nala bounded to the living charged with curiosity, nose to the ground, tail wagging as she carefully examined the new space. 

Alexia regarded her dog with an amused expression before she looked back at you. “I meant to bring this over after the game tomorrow but I saw the lights as I drove past so… here I am, I guess.”

You reassured her again as you locked the door behind her and you watched as she made her way to the kitchen. As you passed through the archway to the kitchen room, Alexia already situated herself by the counter taking out glass canisters from the paper bag she brought. When she took the lids off, a delicious aroma instantly filled the air, enticing your senses.

“What do you have there?” You asked as you leaned on the opposite side of the counter.

Alexia smiled at the eagerness in your tone and pride shone in her eyes as she spoke, “only the best fideuà and esqueixada in the world. Made special by my mother, of course.”

You peered into the containers and the sight made your mouth water instantly. As if it remembered that you hadn’t had any food yet, your stomach grumbled obnoxiously. Alexia definitely heard it because she fixed you with an amused smile and at that, your cheeks warmed so you tried to divert her attention. “You know what would put this all together?” 

“What?”

“Wine or champagne. Wait–are you allowed to drink?”

“I’m allowed since I’m still not qualified to play yet.” Her visage became somber for a moment–it fleeted so quickly you almost didn’t catch it–before the light in them returned again. “If you have it, white wine is the best complement for this.”

You hummed and tapped your chin, turning to make your way to the cellar. “I’ll have a look. I’m sure Derek has some wine stored in here somewhere.”

You’d mumbled the last part but it seemed Alexia’d caught it because she asked, “who’s Derek?”

Something odd in her tone stopped you and made you look back at her. Her face was unreadable, almost too neutral. She didn’t think Derek was your boyfriend, did she?

“Oh, Derek’s my brother. He hasn’t been here for a while but he owns this house.”

“Ah, I see,” Alexia cleared her throat, looking away and you could just see a hint of redness in her cheeks. “Well, I’ll lay out the plates. I suppose they’re just in...?”

“The bottom drawer to your right and the utensils are in the upper one.” You instructed as you continued towards the cellar.

“Oh, yeah, I see,” came Alexia’s muffled response. 

When you returned with the bottle of white wine, you found that Alexia managed to locate the glasswares by herself and were drying them with a tea towel. There was only one set of plate and utensils laid out though so you fixed her with a confused look.

“You’re not going to eat?”

Alexia shook her head. “I already had my fill with my family earlier. I’ll take the drink, though.”

“That’s nice that you visited your family today. How are they?” You sat at one of the high chairs by the counter, popped the wine open and poured each of you a glass. You noticed that Alexia’d heated up the fideuà for you from the steam that rose from its container which strengthened its aroma and made it all the more enticing. Alexia remained opposite you but she was close enough with her leaning forward on her elbows, her glass of wine in hand.

She sipped her wine and told you they were well, described little snippets of what’s been happening in her family life. She even told you about a prank she recently played on her sister, one that nearly made you choke on your wine. 

You listened as she talked, liking the way her brows quirked and her shoulders move as she spoke, how each gesture became more pronounced the more passionate or interested she was on a subject. You asked questions and engaged with the conversation every now and again as you savoured the rich taste of the pasta and the freshness of the salad. You’d never had anything like it and you told her as much. In response, she said she’d give the compliment to her mother when she saw her next which made your cheeks warm up again. Once you finished, you tidied up and though you insisted she didn’t have to, Alexia helped you wash up anyway. 

Afterwards, the both of you ended up in the living room with your glasses of wine. She gestured at your laptop on the couch with her glass.

“Work?”

“Yeah. Just double checking if I missed anything important and preparing for the match tomorrow.” You sat on the couch and put the laptop on your lap. Alexia opted to sit on the carpet, legs stretched and crossed, back leaned back against the couch, her head just beside your legs as Nala settled by her side.

She turned her head, looking up at you. “Can I see?”

You turned your laptop so she could see better. You flicked through the photos you were sorting through, explaining to her every now and then the thought process behind each shot. On some photos, Alexia asked you to pause so she could soak them in.

“These are great. You have a great eye.” Alexia complimented with an appraising nod as you got to the end. You thanked her as you pulled back. Then a question came to mind.

“Do you ever get used to it? The cameras, I mean.”

A pause.

“I’m not and I don’t think I ever will. I’m more comfortable with it now but if it’s possible to avoid, I’d do it. I know it’s a part of football and god knows how much more exposure women’s football needs,” Alexia released a heavy sigh, “but sometimes it just gets too much, you know? I mean, I really should be grateful, right? To have gotten to this point? But the media side of it is… not without its own set of miseries.” 

There was an inflection in her tone upon her admittance–guilt. You gently carded your fingers through her hair, Alexia leaned into your touch in response, and you replied just as softly, “it must’ve been difficult. It still is and for you, especially. And I don’t know if anyone’s told you lately but you have to know: you’ve given so much of yourself already. It’s not a sin to want a little peace, Alexia, and it doesn’t make you ungrateful for wanting it, it just makes you human.” 

Alexia took a deep breathe before she rested her temple against your knee. Then you heard her whisper, “thank you.”

A silence fell upon the both of you after that but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. She remained that way for the majority of the night, head against your knee as she watched a game of football on the TV. 

By the time you finished up your work, it was already late evening and Alexia’d dozed off beside you. You felt bad as you gently woke her up and groggy hazel eyes found yours when you did. The sight made your heart ache from how much Alexia looked younger and more at peace this way, and you told her to wash up so she could stay the night.

And she did.

Now, your cheek felt warm against her chest despite the slight dampness of her borrowed shirt from her hair. Her skin smelt faintly of the soap you were using and with her arm around your waist, you fell asleep content, lulled to a deep slumber by the steady rhythm of her heart.

———

“Hey, please don’t wear that, it’s dirty,” came Alexia’s reprimand from behind you.

You glanced at her reflection in the mirror: Alexia was propped up on the pillows against the headboard, an arm behind her head, nude except for the bundle of sheets that covered one of her thighs, the marks you’d left on her neck and chest last night and this morning generously displayed for you to behold. 

She was nothing short of glorious, you thought, looking relaxed and content like this. 

You turned your attention back to your own reflection: Alexia’s Barcelona jersey draped over your smaller frame and fell just partway down your bare thighs. It felt comfortable against your skin and the fact that it smelt just like Alexia made it feel all the more special.

When you looked at her reflection again, you found her with an affectionate smile, eyes lidded and brows inflected slightly upwards, and suddenly the attention warmed your cheeks.

“But you only wore it for a shoot, right?”

“I mean, yeah, but you know what I mean.”

You hummed, “do you need it?”

“No, I have spares,” she replied before she raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“That means I have time to wash it before I give it back since you insists that it’s dirty.” You said drily as you turned away from the mirror and padded your way to the bed, crawling on the sheets on your knees once you got there.

As soon as you got close enough, Alexia’s hands were immediately on you, guiding you to straddle her lap before she embraced you fully, resting her chin between the valley of your breasts as she looked up at you. You carded your fingers through her hair to see those fair, hazel eyes that never failed to make you shiver.

“I didn’t say you have to hurry. Plus… I kinda like seeing my number on you.” And then she was kissing your neck and you felt one of her hand creeping its way down to cup your ass. You gasped when you felt the heat of her fingers brushing against your core and you buried your own in her hair as she traced a path from your throat to your ear with her tongue, nipping at your lobe when she got there.

“Fuck… Alexia…” You moaned, “you’re insatiable.”

She kissed your shoulder and then she whispered, “only for you.”

———

Something flashed from the corner of your eye followed immediately by a string of whispered curses and a familiar whirring sound. You put your thumb over the line you were just reading so you wouldn’t lose your place before you looked over your bare shoulder to the corner of the room you knew Alexia was who you found, as expected, holding one of your Polaroid cameras. 

She was only wearing a pair of grey sweats which left her torso bare and–like all the time you saw her nude–you couldn’t help but appreciate the soft curves of her breasts and the carved muscles of her stomach. When she met your gaze, she smiled almost sheepishly at you not dissimilar to a child being caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You raised a playful eyebrow at her but instead of answering, she placed her eye over the viewfinder, aimed the camera at you, then pressed the shutter again.

The film came out with a whir and Alexia immediately tucked it into the pocket of her sweats. She then began to make her way towards you and at every other step, she’d stop to take a photo of you, carefully manoeuvring the camera to get the right angle as she did so. It was an endearing sight, really, and it was one that filled your chest full of warmth. 

Eventually, she ended up on you, turning you over on your back as she straddled your waist, leaving you at the mercy of Alexia and her camera. From this position, you couldn’t help but feel extremely vulnerable and exposed not because of your bareness, but because you knew with the way your chest surged with warmth from how Alexia gazed down at you with a satisfied grin, the dimple on her cheek showing as her tongue peeked out between her teeth at the corner of her mouth, seemingly focused on getting the right shot, that this was a woman who had the power to completely and utterly unravel you. 

As a photographer, you were well acquainted with how cameras had the capacity to capture the essence of a moment–to display in raw details the emotions of its subject and freeze them in time, readying them for the dissection and scrutiny of the viewer. You wondered then what Alexia would see written in the shadow, the light, and the colours in the photos she just took of you once she looked at them, and the thought both elated and frightened you. 

Alexia brushed away hair from your temple but as she was about to pull away, you put yours atop of hers and turned your cheek into her palm, looking directly at her behind the camera. You heard her breath catch and then she stuttered out a breath, and the flash barely registered in your mind because you were too focused on the strength and the warmth of Alexia’s hand as you pressed butterfly kisses on the inside of her palm. 

The next thing you knew, the camera was abandoned completely and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out from your throat when you finally felt Alexia’s lips on yours.

———

Alexia sat on one of the high chairs in the kitchen room, hair damp, a game of football on the mounted TV that was left forgotten in place of… something that you couldn’t quite see from this distance. Alexia’s shoulders were hunched over in concentration and you didn’t have the heart to interrupt whatever she was doing so you leaned on the archway, content with just observing her do her work.

“Are you just gonna stand there or would you care to join me?” You rolled your eyes and you didn’t fight the smile that graced your lips. So much for being sneaky–the fact that Alexia was an accomplished footballer who had crazy spatial awareness occasionally slipped your mind.

“Okay, Gwen Stacy, calm down.” Alexia looked over her shoulder then and stuck her tongue out at you, grinning. “How did you even know I was here?”

“Your reflection on the microwave.” She gestured to it with her chin and sure enough from this angle you were instantly visible especially with the white shirt you had on. The dark glossy surface almost made you look like a ghost.

Standing on your toes, you draped yourself over her broad back, arms wrapping loosely around her neck as you peered down. “So, what are we working on?”

“This.” 

A bracelet made of a dark-blue and red string that looped into itself with a singular, small gold diamond-shaped charm right in the middle, a vertical bar at the two corner points of the long edge of the diamond, dangled between Alexia’s fingers. She took your right hand and placed it in your palm so you could look at it: the bracelet was simple but it’s delicate nature made it all the more beautiful and elegant.

“Oh, wow, this is so pretty.” 

“It’s for you.” At that you looked at her, half-afraid that she’d feel the way your heart raced at her words against her back. 

You were so busy trying to find the right thing to say that you didn’t realise that she took the bracelet back until you felt the warmth of her fingers on your palm as she turned your hand over. You watched her as she wrapped it around your wrist, securing the tie. You turned your right wrist over and looked at the delicate bracelet, and something in your heart soared at the small gift. The fact that Alexia made it herself made it all the more special to you.

“Thank you, Alexia. I love it.”

“You’re welcome.”

That night while you were sufficiently warm nestled by Alexia’s side, naked except for the sheets, your head on her chest, a realisation hit you.

“It represents FC Barcelona, isn’t it?”

Alexia hummed in answer, the rumble from the sound a pleasant sensation on your cheek. Then she held your wrist in the space between her thumb and index finger, the width of her palm supporting your hand as she turned your hand just so so the gold of the diamond could catch the light.

“And what else?”

At that, you looked at the bracelet intently. The two bars: one and one–Alexia’s number. So she really was serious when she said she liked seeing her number on you.

You let out a small laugh, then you nuzzled her jaw as you spoke, “you little sneak.”

———

Minding her bad knee, you flipped the both of you over with a strength that even surprised yourself and with how Alexia’s brows raised high, you supposed it took her off guard, too. You settled your weight on her stomach and you bit your lip when you felt her abs tense against your core, and the desire in you blazed into a raging inferno that threatened to burn you inside out.

She grabbed your ass in both hands with a firm grip, making you gasp when her hold made you grind against her stomach, her eyes smouldering as she looked up at you. 

That look was your last straw; you couldn’t stop fighting your desire anymore so you let it swallow you whole. You fell forward, bracing your weight against your elbows as you craned your neck to kiss Alexia, rough and desperate, her lower lip between your teeth. The action rewarded you with a low moan, a delicious sound that shot heat straight down to your core.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Alexia gasped out between your relentless kisses.

“I like being on top,” was your simple answer whispered hotly against her ear, nipping gently at the soft skin there–teasing. 

Then it was your turn to gasp. 

Her fingers dug delightfully into your flesh, kneading your ass roughly before easing them apart with equal force. The harsh treatment caught you by surprise and the effect of it even more unexpected as you immediately melted against her, moaning her name helplessly against the crook of her neck. 

She knew just how to make a mess of you.

“Hmm, do you?” She asked coyly and then proceeded in a deliciously low voice that oozed seduction, smugness, and sex. “Too bad I’m still in control.”

“Fuck.” Your body answered for you in a full-body shiver. Her words turned you on to the brink of falling and you found no purchase as you slipped from the ledge.

It should be embarrassing how you could come without Alexia even fucking you, and it should scare you that she had this much power over your body but in this moment, when her hands were everywhere but your pussy and her filthy words were whispered hotly in your ear, you could care less. So you fell apart, shaking and weak, as you sank on top of Alexia’s firm and soft body, her name barely coherent from the sobs that came out of your lips. Euphoria lit every nerve in your body as you came, the fabric of your underwear latched deliciously on your pussy like a second skin and you were sure that you’d made a mess on Alexia’s bare stomach.

You only realised Alexia had stopped her teasing ministrations until you heard her thick voice through the haze of the afterglow which you barely caught.

“You came.”

It wasn’t a question, really, but you let out a small affirmative moan because what else could you do? You were mush–the intensity of your orgasm caught you off guard and left you floundering that no thoughts formed in your mind, just pure bliss and ecstacy. But as the veil of euphoria began to lift, embarrassment bled into the edges of your consciousness and with it the instinct to apologise. The words were poised at the tip of your tongue when Alexia moaned.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” she breathed out and when you found the strength to lift your head to look at her, her eyes were lidded, pupils blown so wide they were almost all black.

And then she was pulling you in for a kiss, and then the wet heat of her tongue traced the edge of your ear, and she was nipping at your jaw while she dragged her palms from your ass to the side of your ribs. Your skin burnt at her touch and you could do nothing but surrender, to moan and whimper as your heat blazed anew despite having just been swept away.

“But this time, you’re going to come with my fingers in you.”

She didn’t even let the words sink in. Instead she wasted no time to slip her hand between your bodies and to push aside the fabric of your ruined underwear. Usually, Alexia liked to tease you and ease her fingers in you slowly as she sought as much reaction from you as she could, but the slick she found there must had been enough to satisfy her because she pushed two fingers in as soon as she found you. The thickness of her fingers slid in easily and you nearly screamed her name from the pleasure. 

She was relentless in her endeavour to make her words true with the way she gripped your hip steady with her free hand so you didn’t stray too far from her touch when you moved to meet her thrusts, the pace at which she worked her fingers in you left you lightheaded the same way her teeth on your neck worked to drive you insane.

“Alexia, Alexia, Alexia–” You chanted her name like a holy litany, burying your face into her hair that was now slightly damp with sweat and breathed her in: her scent of sun and freshly cut grass, of faint wintergreen, and an essence that was uniquely hers. The moment left you full with something heavy and warm, something that spoke of and hoped for forever, and clarity washed over you: this wasn’t like one of your previous dalliances anymore because you wanted more with her.

The realisation hit you hard, the gravity of it left your mind in a momentary stasis that when you came back to yourself, the shock of your orgasm knocked the breath from your lungs and you felt yourself being pulled by the tide. So strong was it that you could do nothing but pray the flood wouldn’t take you–that Alexia wouldn’t let you drown.

[aran-morinorea]

some extra diplomatic incident, because I finally gave in and swapped it to present tense and it's being so much nicer to me now:

Celebrimbor gives Elrond the wounded look of someone worrying that he is a terrible person who often makes a dear friend feel excluded or unwelcome. Tar-Glóriel gives him the profoundly offended look of someone who has just been confronted with the unending capacity people have for stupidity. He leans forward, literally heated with focus. “Lúthienhîl,” he says, “Your fucking voice.” Elrond stares at him, uncomprehending, and Tar-Glóriel gestures up and down at him dismissively. “The body is incidental. How am I meant to listen to you and hear an Incarnate?”