#made this song my absence is over for like a few days at least

[whenwillthesunriseagain]

aa a aaaa lll l l

!!///cccc c c c c c c l+

[seraphdreams]

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MEGUMI!" | MEGUMI FUSHIGURO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃— synopsis. it would be so very cruel of you to not show your appreciation for your best friend, especially on his birthday.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃— cw. smut, college au, reader calls him “megs”, mention of “angelcunt”, unprotected love-making, bimbo!reader / best friend!megumi, a bit of asphyxiation, megumi with a crush! fingering, and praise. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃— word count. 1.7k, a quick read !!

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! hellooo !! it’s a real one’s birthday, this is the least i could do to celebrate. i’m trying to get back into the groove of writing again so stay tuned n ready 4 fics in the future !! sweet college au best friend megumi is always on my mind, something about a stoic but secretly in love trope .. (he’s no better than his father, sigh) .. as always, if you enjoyed this, please reblog / comment. i’ll bake u you��re favorite sweets if u do !! thank u ♡

megumi has always been there for you. through ups and downs, taxing breakups, even the times you’d get exceedingly inebriated and ramble endlessly about your ever-growing appreciation for him — there was no denying the cordiality he’d shown throughout the many years of your friendship. sure, he could be quite cold, maybe even grumpy; but that was just the joy of megumi fushiguro.

and for that, it’d only be right to repay him.

for all of the times he would show up uninvited to your dorm with the notes of the lecture you’d fortuitously missed, blaming the absence on the absurdly quiet lull of your alarm clock, or when he’d let you have the last bite of his food, because only god knows megumi was never above tolerating you. it’d be the work of a terrible friend to let it all go unnoticed, especially on a special day like today.

“happy birthday, megs!” there you stood,

bubbly and bright as ever, in the doorway of his bedroom, clad in nothing but a tiny pink pajama set with a top reigning transparency, it barely left the skin beneath to the imagination.

he had invited you, along with yuuji and nobara, over to his dorm the previous night to keep him company after class — which led to a kugisaki-induced movie marathon, and eventually phased out into the four of you passed out on the fushiguro’s couch, hues of light omitting from the colorful rays of the forgotten television screen and onto your slumbering faces.

with megumi holding the title of competency within the friend group, it came as no shock when he’d woken up the others to send them on their merry way. all except you, of course. the light throw-over blanket clinging to your body neatly as you slept, soft snores resonating within your being aided in megumi’s decision to give you a few extra minutes to rest.

he could never interfere with your comfort.

after your unanticipated birthday wishes, it took a moment for megumi to come to, blinking away his awareness for your scantily clothed body and opting for a more stoic expression.

“thanks,” he replied, tone low and clouded with an air of vague appreciation.

“wanna know what i got you for your birthday?” your query was that of a sing-song manner as you swayed in place. megumi was used to being around absolute rays of sunshine, but you? you were different. it was as if you were the sun itself; warm and inviting yet shone luminous enough to blind onlookers. you were tooth-rottingly sweet, and as bubbly as you were naive.

matters weren’t made any better forgoing the fact that megumi had true feelings for you. it was a running gag within your friend group, jokes that itadori and nobara would make concerning the contrast between megumi’s unwelcoming behavior when it came to them, and impassive patience had times fell upon you.

in fact, obliviousness was your specialty in being ignorant to the feelings of the fushiguro. it wasn’t your fault, you truly didn’t know.

megumi responds curtly, although with a hint of sarcasm, “a break?”

you pout as you rest your head against the lacquered doorframe, reigning defeated already despite the conversation barely racking up a minute’s time. “no, silly.” the words come out as a giggle. “i got you me!”

a hint of confusion glosses over his features before it morphs into that of a neutral expression. shirtless from his shower just minutes prior, and puzzled from what your mind had conjured up this time, he questions again. “you? you got me you?”

you shake your head affirmatively as he starts up once more. “and what do i do with you?”

clear as day, your exchange took a rather suggestive turn, one that neither of you were intending. “well, you can do a lot of things with me,” now stepping into the room to close the distance between your bodies, your response is thick with an air of lust that megumi noticed seemed to come naturally for you. his heart picks up in pace from the sight of your pretty face, and even prettier eyes looking vacantly into his, as if you weren’t aware of the trap you set up for yourself.

he brushed off the slight arousal brewing up within him, chose to play it off as mirth like he usually did when it came to you. “i guess so.”

you held onto his arm, a more distinct, yet adorable look of seriousness on your features. truly, you were a little doll. “i’m for real, megs. it’s your birthday, i’ll let you do anything you want.”

yeah. you’re really going to regret this one.

the word “anything” came with free reign. and even though megumi thought of himself as anyone but a pervert, he certainly was bound to start acting like one.

“anything?” his question came out as if he was treading lightly while he moved to dig through his drawer, perhaps looking for a shirt.

you stepped back to allow him the space of rummaging, while nodding your head and confirming his suspicions. “anything.”

“let’s fuck, then.”

his tone was nonchalant, easy on your ears as his speaking voice regularly sounded, and you would have missed his request had he not straightened up to search your countenance for an answer — deadpan, as if he hadn’t said a thing.

in that moment, all of what you hadn’t noticed, no. all of what you chose to deny had finally been put into perspective.

megumi fushiguro was fucking hot.

“i mean, if that’s what you want then i don’t mind.” your response was succinct, gentle on your tongue and provided him the response he’d been aiming for.

this might be his best birthday yet.

he strode closer to you in light steps before his large, glacial hand found its place on your cheek and silken lips met yours, pulling you into a salacious kiss filled with hunger and want. the press of his tongue begging to be allotted within the slot of your lips was accepted with your own muscle dancing against his. it was dizzying, and dissimilar. for all your years of knowing megumi, you would’ve never thought up the occuring situation.

lithe fingers danced up the skin of your thighs where you part them on instinct, allowing his digits to work on their own to slip past the barrier of elastic fabric and into your little lace panties, softly drumming along the puffy nub of your clit.

“megumi,” you rasp against his lips, swirling your hips over his hand to build up the sweet friction surging from your core. the saccharine croon of his name tasted sugary like vanilla rolling off of your tongue and onto his. he was in pure bliss; ready to take everything you gave to him.

his body responded to your need, fingertips at your clit circling tightly, an action that pulled a string of mewls from you before you gasped at the intrusion of his long fingers dipping into your core. they curled upwards against your gummy walls just until they increased in pace while his thumb pivoted at your sensitive nub, and fuck! where’d he learn how to do that?

he pulled away only slightly to read your expression, the tent in his pants growing taller, tip leaking carelessly at the onsight of your face, screwed taut in pleasure — plump, glossy lips that were slick with spit and moans slipping past without prevail.

underneath him, your legs felt feeble, as if they’d fall beneath you from the surgence of pleasure. “m-megumi, wait, ‘m gonna!-“ you held onto his shoulders for leverage, your warnings of orgasm falling on deaf, distracted ears, until finally, you were a gushing mess in his palm, coating his digits in your essence.

“fuck. you’re so pretty when you cum,” in that moment, he gave you no chance to react when he gently positioned you over his dresser, pulling down your little shorts until they pooled around your knees.

“y’made me so hard, y/n. can you feel it?” he grinded himself over the plush of your ass, teasing before pulling his sweats down just enough so that his hard, throbbing and leaking, length could be free. it bobbed ever so under its weight while one hand began to pump from base to shaft to soothe the excruciating ache. once he felt satisfied in his ministrations, he lined his cock along your awaiting slit.

“a condom, megs.” your reminder came in the form of a soft lull. after all, you two were just free-spirited college students, unable to pay the consequences of spontaneous actions. “don’t have any.” with that, he sunk his cock inside to the hilt, a low groan rippling from his throat at just how tight your pussy clamped around him. it felt like fucking heaven. he could die in your cunt and be at peace.

while you adjusted to the stretch, he began to move; slow, deep strokes as if he were savoring this moment forever. who knows when he’ll be able to have the luxury to sink inside your perfect angelcunt again? you bit your lip to stave off impending moans which ultimately failed when his arms snaked around your body — one hand underneath the cloth of your shirt and pinching at your perked nipples while the other finds its place right back at your clit.

“sh-shit!” you cry out, eyes rolling and mind hazy from the pleasure. his rhythm increased gradually until he built up a vigorous pace. “i’ve been needing y-you so bad.” megumi groans along the shell of your ear. how he got so lucky as to have his dream girl engulfed around his cock, he doesn’t know. all he’s aware of was the tightening of his abdomen, signaling his own impending orgasm.

white hot pleasure replace all feeling in your body, counting down its time until the familiar numbness washed over you in euphoria. a pitchy moan sounded from your lips and an even whorish whimper when the warmth from spurts of his cum coated your insides.

after what felt like a minute of the two of you recollecting your breaths, megumi finally pulled out, shuddering at the added stimulation at his oversensitive cock.

he leaned your head back to meet his lust-filled gaze; calmness of his deep navy orbs now deepened with sin. megumi pressed gentle kisses all over your face while his hands took purchase at your now, exposed, neck and squeezed tight enough to keep you lightheaded.

“you’re the best birthday present.”

[sexyandcringe]

Hopeless romantic

Part 1 ◇ Part 2 ◇ Part 3

Warnings: reader drinking (nothing serious though), mention of sexism by reader's parents.

Content: osamu x reader, Angst (to fluff in the next chapters), hurt/comfort

A/n: Guess the Song of Achilles reference! :)

It has been around three weeks since you last saw Osamu that day: you took your chance to scurry away when he went back into the kitchen briefly, leaving your payment to Tsumoto.

The memory of his embrace with another woman still lingered in your mind, but you were able to distract yourself with the hundreds of books on your shelf and the dogs in the shelter.

You took this time to explore other places in the city, from the cozy Indian restaurant near your workplace, where the taste of salty chapati mixed with matar paneer melted in your mouth like butter, to the Mexican fast food spot at the corner of the library, where you savoured the taste of chiles en nogada followed by elotes. Yet,  nothing compared to Osamu’s handmade onigiris, the taste of his love surpassed any food you’ve ever tried.

You don’t believe he didn’t notice your absence, but it wouldn’t bother him that much, you assume, since you’re nothing more than a friendly regular. 

Or at least, you used to be a regular.

Now you are just a girl who spends her days between work and shelter,  occasionally going out to drink with the few friends you have. You know it’s wrong to use alcohol to dull the suffering, but sometimes it’s the only way to remind yourself that life still holds meaning, and that happiness, however fleeting, can be found.

But not going to Osamu’s restaurant has its consequences, like going to the grocery store to buy all the necessities to make a healthy meal and right now you are not exactly having fun doing all this.

When you were a child, your mother always told you to learn how to cook and clean because “someday you’ll have to do it for your future husband”, so, as an act of rebellion, you refused to learn anything other than the most basic dishes of your culture; this act of rebellion ended up biting your ass now because you are tired of eating the same basic things over and over again and you miss Osamu’s food.

You wander through the aisles, searching for the ingredients of the recipe you want to try.

it has been at least half an hour now and you’re meticulously selecting each item, trying to get the correct amount of food. You always tend to buy more than necessary, which ends up with you never using that specific product again and making it go to waste—like the honey syrup you bought for your pre-made pancakes that now sits untouched. You don’t even have time to eat breakfast most of the time. 

You are trying to understand which vegetables are less decayed than others when someone approaches you slowly. 

“That one will go bad in like 2 days.” 

You startle at first, but you freeze completely the second you meet his eyes.

“Hey.” he smiles.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god, please why did he have to come here out of all the grocery stores in the city?

You tried to forget about him like an unwanted pest, avoiding all the places he could be at, you even chose a longer path home so you wouldn’t bump into him while he closed the restaurant. You are old and tired and so is your heart, it can scarcely bear the burden of yet another heartbreak.

You drew in a slow, steadying breath before replying.

“Hi Osamu, long time no see.” you try your best to beam at him, like nothing has touched you, like you don’t want to run away this instant, like you don’t want to scream at him and hurl all these vegetables at him because you hate him for shattering the last remnants of hope you had left in you.

Like you don’t love him at all.

You tend to buy more than necessary, just like you tend to let your feelings grow more than necessary, and then, then they stay there, growing and decaying at the same time, festering with pests and resentment.

“Yeah, because someone hasn’t been coming to my restaurant lately.” He remarked with a petty edge to his voice.

Well, you jumped into that one.

A nervous laugh leaves your lips, “I was just … busy. We got a few more dogs in the shelter and it’s been a little hectic.” your voice is barely a whisper, laden with the weight of your lies.

Coward, liar, ugly.

He nods in quiet understanding, picking a zucchini with a pristine surface, a stark contrast to your rotten life. “Take this one. What’re ya making?.”

You take the vegetable from his hands and place it in your bag, his kindness pressing against the walls you've erected around your fragile heart “I don’t know,” you sigh, “I'm trying to make some vegetarian lasagna, but I already know it's going to suck. I’m a terrible cook.”

“You can always learn, you know.” he counters, a playful smirk gracing his lips “I wasn’t born with a knife in my hand.”

You roll your eyes, pushing your cart forward. “I’m lazy. And I don’t have anyone to teach me in a fun way.”

“I could teach you. Although I'm not sure if I can do it ‘in a fun way’” he signs with his fingers, “you won't die of boredom, I guess?”

“I’m always having fun with you, Osamu.”  And it’s true.

“That’s crazy considering that you haven’t come to meet me in three weeks.”

“Oh god, you’re so petty!” 

“Hell yeah, I am!”

You stare at each other before bursting into loud giggles; his eyes crinkle as he looks at you and you try so hard to ignore the warmth of your cheeks.

(and the warmth in your chest).

You are not used to being loved but you are used to love, and you can’t help wanting to stay around those you love, can’t ignore the tugs of your heartstrings. You know it will only end up in heartache and you are already regretting what’s coming out of your mouth, but you can’t stop it.

“Well? Will you teach me then?”

He smiles, and his face is like the sun.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

Tag: @lees-chaotic-brain

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part two

authors note: well, holy shit, the response to this has been so unexpected yet insanely appreciated and humbling! the kind words of support and interest really have been so wonderful to receive. thank you thank you thank you!

this ended up much longer than i intended, but i couldn't find a "good" place to break it in half, so i apologize for the length.

i also feel like this is a bit on the boring but necessary side in terms of setting the scene and backdrop for what's to come....

i also feel like this is gonna def be more than 4 parts, so sorry!!!!

warnings: language, slight sexy time, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

words: 7.5k

tag gang: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion @tshepisho @lizzycaraballo-blog @xiamentshoneypot

“I need a break.” He slid out of you, the absence of his thick dick noticeable and borderline uncomfortable. Despite the fact that your voice was hoarse, limbs jello, and pussy tender as all outdoors, you still wanted him. Wanted to feel him inside you. But you knew you also needed some amount of time for your body recoup for the next round, so you made logic overpowered lust.

He made a sound, lying on his back, eyes on the ceiling. “So fucking needy for this dick.”

“Shut up.” It was intentionally not a denial, because he wasn’t entirely wrong. It’d been a shitty past couple weeks, what with parent teacher conferences, your least favorite time of the year. There were only so many different ways you could try to gently explain to parents that their child wasn’t the next Cornel West and actually could benefit from “additional evaluations.” But that almost always went over their heads as they attempted to tell you, the professional, the real reason why their child wasn’t doing well.

You were just over all of it and damn near at your wits end when you got the text from Joe that he’d be in town this weekend. That goofy ‘i’m about to get some good dick’ smile was damn near stamped on your face in the days preceding his arrival. You needed an outlet, and wearing yourself out on his dick until you were physically incapacitated happened to be the perfect one, the best one.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have options, you did, but they were subpar. And that was the problem with having a chance to experience superior dick, everything else that followed was mid. No one had ever fucked you like Joe. No man before him had ever made you come from just penetration. You always needed more. Had to sometimes physically instruct them on what you needed. Not with him. He gave you more—-the man could and had stayed with his face buried between your legs for hours on end—-but it wasn’t necessary. He could fuck you to a toe curling, light blinding climax with just a few good, deep strokes.

And yes, you still struggled with the guilt of fucking someone else’s man, but in times like this, where you were beyond stressed the fuck out, all you could think about was getting off and decreasing that stress. The guilt session could come later.

“What’s wrong?” He asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. You could both be around each other and not say a word without an ounce of discomfort. It was nice.

“Parents suck.” You answer, bluntly, afterwards realizing how vague that is. “I’ve had parent teacher conferences the past couple weeks, and they’ve been getting on my nerves trying to tell me how to do my job.”

“That sounds annoying.”

“Beyond, and makes me feel like they’re insinuating I don’t know what I’m talking about. I do. They just don’t want to hear it.” They prepared you in school, to some extent, to expect those select parents that weren’t the easiest to work with but to always stand behind your professional judgment regardless if one agreed or not. And for the most part, your parents in the years since you’d been teaching were relatively chill. It just seemed that this time of the year is when all of them decided to be in their difficult era.

One hand behind his head, Joe looks over at you. “Then that’s on them.” He shrugs. “You can’t make them hear what they don’t want to hear.”

Groaning loudly, you turn on your side, propping your own head up with your hand. “I know. It just sucks for the kids. There’s a couple who might be on the spectrum or have ADHD, but I can’t outright say it, so all I can do is strongly imply. And trust me, my implications are clear as fucking day. It’s just annoying when I have to work harder than I should to get people to be their kids' advocate, not their adversary.”

He’s quiet for a second and then asks. “What’s the best part of your job?”

The answer doesn’t even require contemplation. “My students. Hands down. I love kids. I love helping them learn and seeing the excitement on their face when they finally grasp a concept I’m teaching. It’s super rewarding.” 

His gaze lingers on you, “Then focus on that. You do this because it’s a passion and a love and you’re clearly good at it.” 

His words marinate over you, reminiscent of past conversations where you’re the one feeding positivity into him, reminding him to not lose focus of what’s most important and why he does what he does. The roles being reversed is different but nice. It’s nice to have him to talk to, it’s always easy to do so.

You move your hand to his chest and slowly walk your fingers downward. “Good dick and good advice. This trip is a double win for me.”

His jaw clenches when you begin to stroke him, sinfully and intentionally slowly. A smirk forms on your face. He’s just as needy for you as you are for him.

Joe’s voice is hoarse with desire. “You ready for the next round?”

“Yes.” You’re not sure if physically, you’re well enough, but that’s what epsom salt baths are for. And Motrin. You need him. Climbing on top, you grab his hardened length and align it at your entrance, dew coating the tip and serving as natural lubricant. “But I want to be on top this time.” 

________

“Mommy!”

You’re startled awake by the loud voice, jumping body, and smiling face of your personal alarm clock. The only alarm clock you’ve ever had that you can’t dictate the time it goes off. It takes a second for you to settle yourself, to push away the inappropriate afterthoughts of such a salacious dream—one you’re slightly disappointed couldn’t play out longer—to focus on the little human in front of you.

The shining sun beaming down on you from the curtains you’re certain she opened assists in doing just that. You rub at your eyes, a small, warm smile growing. “Good morning, Callie Bear.”

Her eyes, big, brown, and always full of curiosity are focused on you as she stops jumping and lands on her knees. “You’re up!”

You chuckle, how can you not be up with a rambunctious four year old jumping on your bed and screaming for you to wake up? ”I’m up.”

“Yay!” She cheers, tiny fists raised up and victory. “Can we have pancakes?” 

“I don’t know.” You pretend to contemplate her request, index finger against your bottom lip. “Can we?”

She pouts, and you bite on your lip to suppress your laughter. Her arms cross over her tiny chest, bonnet covered head tilting to the side. “May we have pancakes?”

Sometimes, you feel bad for your daughter, having a teacher for a mother. You’re always going to be on her about anything academic related, especially English. “We certainly can.” Yawning, you sit up in bed and scratch your scalp through your bonnet. “But first, hygiene.” 

Swooping her into your arms, you’re met with a chorus of giggles as you tickle her stomach with your index finger. Walking into the bathroom, you sit her on the counter and reach her her toothbrush, putting on her (Halle Bailey) Little Mermaid themed toothpaste before letting her do her thing as you do hers.

This is the first time in a while that you’re grateful for your daughter waking you up so early on a weekend. Those dreams….you’d be lying if you said they didn’t happen more than you’d like to admit. You’d tried to figure out what triggered them but have yet to be successful. 

The simplest answer would be that you miss him. You miss Joe, but that’s also the answer you refuse to admit. You can’t miss him. Don’t have the right to miss someone else’s man, someone else’s husband. 

All you can do is be appreciative that one of the biggest regrets in your life brought you your biggest blessing.

Calista, Callie, to almost everyone she knows, was a complete and utter surprise.

It was time for your women’s wellness exam, and in the set of questions they asked you, one was of course the date of your last menstrual cycle. Being stumped for a second was normal, hence why you used your beloved Flo app to track your cycle. But, it’s when you opened the app and realized you hadn’t logged a period in two months, you knew.

Didn’t need a blood test to tell you the obvious. 

You were most definitely pregnant. 

You’d used Flo consistently since you were 14 years old, there was no way in hell you’d forgotten for two whole months to input the period dates.

So, after crying and damn near having a panic attack, your doctor provided you with pamphlets. Options, as they were called. You wouldn’t review them until a couple days later, needing that time to process that you were actually pregnant. Pregnant by a married man that you’d ended things with, ironically, on the night your daughter was conceived.

What in the actual fuck were you supposed to do? Send him a text and say ‘nvm. Congrats, we’re expecting. Are you gonna tell your wife or should I?’ To this day, you’re convinced that the nasty wave of ‘morning sickness’ you experienced the first few weeks of finding out you were with child was actually just your absolute disgust that you’d allowed another woman’s husband to impregnate you.

It was like you were walking in the same footsteps your mother molded for you. Something you swore you’d die before letting happen.

What’s that saying? We make plans, and God laughs. Well, he must be having a field day with you. 

It was actually in confiding in Mariah, your best friend since kindergarten, that you were able to look past your shame and panic to see this for what it is.

“You want to have kids, don’t you?” She asked in an obvious tone, picking through the big bowl of popcorn you two shared while Insecure played at a low volume on your TV. “Well, here’s the kid.”

“I wanted to have kids with a husband, Mariah.”

“Well—“

“Shut up.” You tossed a few pieces of popcorn in her direction. This was not the time for her occasional joke. You were too busy having a mental breakdown.

“Does it really matter how the baby got here? Aren’t you the one always saying kids are a blessing? Why are you trying to block yours?” It’s a fair, valid point that you’re too stubborn to want to hear, even if it’s what you needed to hear. “I’m just saying if you’ve been blessed with being a mom, something you’ve always wanted. Seems kinda silly we’re having this discussion instead of baby names, baby showers, and gender reveals.”

“I’m not doing a gender reveal.” That much you are absolutely sure of. Never. But, Mariah’s words do resonate with you. Why were you so caught up on how you got pregnant? Yeah, it was fucked up, but dwelling on it did nothing but make you feel worse. You always imagined this would be a happy occasion, couldn’t you find it in you to be happy? Regardless of the father and that whole Tubi of a situation.

There was a life growing inside of you, no matter the dynamics of the creation, the child had done nothing wrong, didn’t deserve to be blamed. And the truth was you weren’t really that upset, you were more happy than anything, if you really allowed yourself to feel without reservation. Borderline excited, even. Maybe even at the fact that you would always have a small piece of him with you in a really big way. 

Even if he wouldn’t be a part of that experience.

And it was then that you decided. You didn’t care what anyone thought, couldn’t think about how your mother, who was completely unaware about your relationship with Joe for the entire three years, would react. You’d figure out the rest of this later because you were having this baby, but you were having this baby by yourself. Joe couldn’t know.

He wouldn’t know.

And almost five years later, nothing has changed. Yes, you absolutely couldn’t see yourself making it through your pregnancy and even the first few weeks postpartum without the help of your mom and Mariah. But, for the most part, you did everything you could by yourself for your daughter, wanting her to see the strength and perseverance of a strong, single mother. 

She finishes brushing before you and spits out the remnant toothpaste in her mouth. “Are we gonna see grandma today?”

You finish a few seconds after, spitting and wiping your mouth before answering. “We certainly are.”

“Yay!” She celebrates as you bring the towel to her face, giving it a gentle cleanse before tossing it into the hamper. Callie wastes no time in removing her bonnet and giving her curls a good shake. The two of you share a laugh as you follow suit. 

 “Pancake time?”

Separating some of her coils, you answer with a wink. “Let mommy wash her face, and I’ll be right out, kiddo.”

“Okay.” Nodding, she jumps off the counter and hurries into the kitchen knowing good and well what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“Sis, what have I told you about jumping off this damn counter?” All you hear is giggling in the wake of her dash. This child has daredevil tendencies that bring out a certain, uncomfortable level of anxiety. Medical bills weren’t in the budget, so you needed her to calm the hell down. 

She probably gets it from–

Shaking your head from unnecessary thoughts, you quickly work your way through your routine and eventually meet her in the kitchen to find her on her tablet, probably trying to figure out what movie to put on while you two cook. On the weekends, you remove the passcode from her device but still maintain the time limits for her overall screen time. 

You refuse to allow her to become an “ipad kid.”

“What’cha pick for us?” Moving through the kitchen, you pull out the necessary items and place them on the small island. 

Climbing onto the barstool, she flips the screen with a proud smile. “Moana!”

Gasping with faux surprise, you ask, “again?”

Much like her mother who was like her mother, an affinity and passion for all things Disney is another thing your child inherited. She could watch Disney movies for the rest of life and never get bored. And Moana was at the top of that list, the new Little Mermaid was a close favorite, but Moana resonated deeply with Callie for reasons you still don’t fully understand. 

Well, she is half Pacific Islan—

Clearing your throat, you and Callie get to work on breakfast, both singing along and dancing to the catchy Disney music. It’s a sweet bonding moment between the two of you, a bit of a tradition on the weekends. You’re not much of a cook, at all, but breakfast food is relatively simple. And thankfully, your child is not as picky as some other kids. A stack of pancakes with sausage is always enough to satisfy her. 

It’s when you’re both sitting in the living room, on the floor, legs crossed while you eat the delicious breakfast that you’d prepared together that a thought crosses your mind.

A distraction could be beneficial, the dream from earlier still floating around in the back of your head. And not even the dream in as much as the main event from the theme. 

You needed some dick. It’d been too long, that itch needing a scratch to give you some much needed reset. 

So, it’s when Callie is focused on the scene in Moana when Maui’s hook is broken that you grab your phone and shoot off a text. 

You free today?

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzes with a response. 

Just tell me when and where.

________

Walking through the doors of your mother’s hair salon is always an experience, nostalgic almost, to all the times you and your friends would hang out there with the hopes that you could get free or discounted services. Usually free for you, not so much for your friends. 

Business was still business.

The familiar smell of hair oils, deep conditioner, and the overall sound of flat irons sizzling through hair brings a warm smile to your face. It’s things like this, this place even, that remind you why you decided to come home after college.

Home, where the closest major stores like Target and Walmart, and even the airport, are nearly half an hour away. Where you have only one elementary school, one middle school, and one high school. Where many of the streets are two laned and littered with storefronts, like your mom’s salon. Hell, the freaking bank, post office, and city hall are in the same building.

Everyone knows everyone, and for the most part, everyone looks out for each other. 

It isn’t for everybody, this almost Hallmark movie type setup. You know this. Hence why many leave for school and never or seldom return. But, for you, it’s home.

It’s also the perfect place to discreetly and raise the daughter of a celebrity.

“Grandma!”

Your mom is in the middle of a conversation with a patron but almost immediately redirects her attention to the equally familiar voice of Calista. “There’s my grandbaby!” Callie runs into your mom’s arms and is peppered with kisses all over. “Looking more and more like your mama every day.”

That genuinely makes you smile. You tend to think she favors Joe more than yourself, usually when she’s making certain facial expressions. She has a lot of his mannerisms, which you are grateful for, happy that she has characteristics from both sides. But any and all of the good things she can take from you, you want her to have.  

Callie’s smile is bright and infectious, as always. “That’s cause mommy’s my mommy!”

You laugh, approaching them and leaning in for your mom’s one armed hug as she has Callie in her other arm. “Hey, mama.”

“Hey, baby.”

Your relationship with your mom has definitely been up and down over the years, which you’d like to think is the standard for most mother-daughters. It’s something that’s arguably strengthened over time, especially post Callie. You’d gained so much more appreciation for your mother raising you on her own as a single parent. There was always appreciation, but infinitely more now as you were also in the same position. 

“I was hoping she could hang out with you for a little bit today. I have some business to take care of. If that’s okay?” 

Your mother gives you the look, the look that indicates she knows there’s more to what you’re saying but she won’t push out of respect for your privacy. And you’re grateful for that. You don’t necessarily want to explain that you need her to keep an eye out on Callie while you attend your dick appointment. 

Sucking her teeth, she starts walking to the back where her office is located. “When have I ever had an issue spending time with my only grandchild?” She has you there. Your mom would take Callie every day if you let her, and you’re so thankful for that. Not even for the tremendous assistance your mom provides but for the close relationship she has with Callie, similar to how close you were with your grandma. “Want me to do her wash day for her while she’s here?”

At that, Callie’s eyes go wide as she starts to whine, “noooo. I don’t want to.”

You chuckle. “That’s how mommy feels too, babes.” You dreaded her wash day as much as you dreaded your own. The women in your family were blessed with long, thick, healthy curls that Callie clearly inherited from you but also her father’s side cause the girl had some hair. “If you don’t mind, mama.”

She waves off your unnecessary added comment and starts to assess the state of Callie’s hair, murmuring comments to herself. 

You lean down in front of Callie and move your hand to her knee. “You sure you’re gonna be okay, sweetie?”

She nods and asks, “can we get ice cream when you come back?”

“We surely can.” You don’t allow her to have a lot of sweets—she already has enough energy as it is—but every so often, you two get the homemade ice cream cones at the local parlor. Sometimes you’ll sit outside and just talk, sharing laughs and inside jokes over the best ice cream anyone could ever have. And considering she’s about to endure a wash day, she deserves it. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

Putting her tablet on her lap, she leans over and hugs you tight. For such a tiny human, she always gives the best, most loving hugs. “I love you too, mama.”

Callie goes back to her tablet, and you issue your mom one more statement of appreciation before heading out so you can have your urge squashed and get back in time to have dessert with your little girl. 

On the car ride there, you send up a quick prayer that this time will be different, that you can get what you need and be gone without being asked to stay. It’s always the same answer, so maybe the last one finally stuck to where he won’t hope.

Won’t get his own feelings hurt.

________

“You know you don’t always have to leave right away.”

Of course.....of course.

You’re in the midst of hooking your bra back on when he hits you with the offer you were stupidly hoping he’d pass on this time around. 

Bold of you to assume you could come get some dick without this man trying to turn it into a cuddle session. 

Your smile is tight as you politely decline. “I don’t want to leave Callie at the salon too long. You never know what she’s hearing.”

It’s a weak excuse, hence him poking a hole right through it. “You know your mom would shut that down right away. Get back in the bed.”

“Really, Amir, I can’t stay.” Once your bra is on, you reach on the ground for your panties, sliding them back on as well. The sooner you get yourself decent, the sooner you can dip.

“Can’t or won’t?”

And here it goes. Sometimes, you wonder why you continue to put yourself in this situation. Amir’s stroke game is nice, but is it really worth this constant routine? You two fuck, he tries to make it more, an argument, silence on both ends for a little while until one of you needs that urge handled. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. 

It’s been roughly the same since you were in high school.

Amir was your first damn near everything: first crush, first boyfriend, first kiss, first time. It was a textbook small town romance. He was the quarterback, and you were the cheerleading captain. Everyone said you were perfect together and predicted at one point you’d get married after college. Truthfully, you once thought the same. But outside of aesthetics, your relationship was always rocky, borderline toxic. 

He had poor boundaries with other girls but never saw an issue because it never went beyond flirting. And because you were young, dumb, and just as toxic sometimes, you’d intentionally flirt with other guys to piss him off, knowing it was wrong to drag innocents into your Bobby and Whitney of a relationship but more interested in making him see your side of it.. 

Still, young and dumb. Not an excuse, but definitely a reason.

Even as you both went off to college, each attending separate schools, you’d occasionally hookup during the winter breaks. More often during the summer. He was your constant, preferred over allowing random dick into you, especially as he was most familiar and you knew he was clean. The devil you know type of thing.

Post college was when you really ended it, deciding that it was time to put the childish things behind you, time to put him behind you.

And you’d done relatively well for a while, the two of you becoming damn near strangers. Especially when Joe came into the picture. Amir was good in bed, but Joe was heavenly. Just the thought of anyone other than him fucking you at that time was repulsing. 

But, Joe is gone, has been, so now you’re stuck returning to the same nigga you just can’t seem to get rid of because he has a decent sized dick he, mostly, knows how to use.

And your rose can only go so far. 

“Fine. Won’t. Don’t. Not interested.” Standing up, you shoot him a look of challenge, of defiance. “Better?”

Your words understandably tick him off as he cruelly asks, “How long are you gonna let yourself be stuck on him? That nigga abandoned you and his kid, what is there to even be stuck on?”

Regardless of what happened between you and Joe, mostly with how it played out, you refuse to allow anyone to speak badly of him. Specifically when it pertains to his absence in your and Callie’s lives, especially since that was 100% your call. Only a select few know the full story, therefore the majority have no right to speak on it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so please just shut the fuck up.”

“Where is he then, huh? It’s been almost 5 years, Y/N. You need to move the fuck on. He’s your past.” Moving out of the bed, he comes up to you and places one hand to your face. You fight the desire to pull away. His touch is suddenly uncomfortable, feels wrong and noisome. “It’s time to focus on your future.”

Not that you’d ever admit it to Amir, but there’s a hint of truth to his voice. Eventually, random hookups to fulfill your sexual needs will become insufficient. Hell, even now, you still desire to be married, to give Callie that 'traditional' family. The problem is mostly lack of options, even if Amir seems convinced you two should give it another try.

 When hell freezes over. 

Your voice is even and to the point as you finish dressing and pull out your key fob. “Like I said, thanks for the scratch, but that’s all this is.” Without giving him time to talk more shit, you head out the door without another fucking word.

________

“Oh shit, is that ole girl Randy used to mess with?” Joe is only halfheartedly listening to what his cousin is saying, mostly focused on the work email he’s reading on his phone. It’s far and few in between they actually have time off, let alone enough time to go home and be among the rest of family. He’s trying to enjoy it and is enjoying it, but work is always on his mind, hence his inability to ignore the email notification that slid in mid-group conversation. “What was her name?”

“It started with an M, didn’t it?” Jey suggests. “Mariah, I think.” 

It's when the correct name is stated that Joe’s attention is briefly redirected. Mariah was your friend, the reason he was ever introduced to you. It’s a name he hasn’t heard in years. If only that was the same amount of time it’s been since he thought of you. No, instead, you’ve taken up real estate in his mind more than he’d ever like to admit or acknowledge.

“Wait, isn’t that—-” Jimmy is silenced, and out of the corner of Joe’s eye, he can see it’s because Jey gave him a look. That look you give someone when you want them to shut up.

Now…now they have his attention.

“What?” It’s when the twins share a look with each other, Jey shaking his head that Joe puts his phone to the side as Jimmy hits the lock button on his phone. “Let me see.” 

“Look, Uce—”

“I said, let me see.” One thing Joe can’t stand more than anything is when people beat around the bush or try to hide things from him. He prefers people to be upfront and honest, damn whatever feelings come up. The truth is always better, in his mind.

And yet……

Shaking his head, Jimmy blows out a breath and hands his cousin the phone.

Joe looks down and instantly regrets ever pushing the matter.

Five years.

It’s been almost five fucking years since he’s seen that beautiful smile, those deep dimples that were one of the first things he noticed about you, outside of your breathtaking beauty. You looked almost exactly the same, maybe a bit heavier, still in all of the right places. Hair a little longer but still the same deep onyx with streaks of purple. You’re smiling and posing with Mariah who also hasn’t changed much outside of a new hair color and the huge baby bump she’s sporting. A baby shower, he’d guess. 

But outside the shock of seeing you, Joe’s attention is also on the third person in the photo. A child, young in age, no more than 4 or 5, black, curly hair styled in two space-buns and a deep dimpled smile that’s almost identical to yours. Her eyes are a beautiful light brown shade, a contrast to your chocolate colored eyes.

But similar to….similiar to his. 

Brows furrowed, Joe is surprised to see you’re tagged in the photo, so he goes to your profile and is even more shocked to find it public. You were always such a private person, but he chalks it up to the fact that the only people who’d really know how to find it would have to be those close to you.

You don’t have a ton of pictures, but he clicks on the first one that has a set of photos of you and the same little girl from the baby shower. It’s dated almost six months ago, so not the newest but better than nothing. The post is a slideshow, so he begins to scroll through the photos, each of them with you and that same child, clearly at various points in her life. The last one stops him for a moment, a photo of you, crying, in a hospital bed holding a newborn baby. 

Swallowing back his emotions, Joe redirects his gaze to the caption:

my calista, my callie, my baby girl. God used one of the hardest periods of my life to bless me with the best gift anyone can receive. every day with you is an adventure. from your incessant questions about the most random of things, constant requests for disney movie marathons, to the way you refuse to part from me without giving the biggest hug and kiss goodbye while yelling ‘i love you, mommy!’. callie, you are my whole heart, and there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, sweet girl. here’s to year 4 and many many more of having the biggest honor and privilege ever of being your mama bear. 

So many things are going through his head right now. 

You had a child.

You have a child.

Based upon the date of the post, you have a child who will be five years old in a couple of months.

A child who has your smile, but his eyes, his nose, and a complexion that looks the perfect combination of the two of you. She looks like the perfect combination of the two of you.

It’s hard to not jump to the obviously glaring conclusion that all of this brings, and still, he tries to not allow his head to go there. You would….you would never do that. You would never keep his child from him, no matter how things ended between the two of you. There was wrongness to that that reached low levels of depravity, and he just couldn’t conjoin that kind of deception with who he always knew you to be. 

You were a woman who believed and tried to live by her morals. It was the reason you eventually cut him out of your life. Nothing about not telling him he has a child is moral. 

He wordlessly hands the phone back to Jimmy and goes back to reading the email, acting like nothing just happened and he doesn't have a million and one thoughts running through the back of his mind. 

It’s after he walks away, giving off an excuse that he needs to call Hunter to discuss a proposed promo that the conversation commences.

“So, we all just gon act like that lil' girl don’t look like Uce? She even got his eyes, man,” Jimmy, being Jimmy, is the first to say it aloud, the only one to actually verbalize what the others are thinking. 

“Jimmy,” Naomi chides but can’t help adding. “Do you really think that could be his kid?”

Jey decides to join in on the conversation. “It’s possible. They messed around for years.”

“But would she really do that? Have his baby and not even tell him about her?” Naomi only met you a handful of times, but all of the interactions were pleasant, and she secretly thought you and Joe would have made a cute couple if the stars were aligned differently. “She had to have told him.”

Jimmy gestures to the sliding door Joe walked through minutes earlier. “Does that look like he knew?”

“This is all just speculation.” Joseph decides to join the conversation, always the one who prefers to listen to all sides before adding his two cents. “Similiar facial features don’t mean they’re related.”

“No, but add in the timeline plus the way it ended, and you can’t help but lean one way.”

“What did happen between them?” Somewhat newer to this circle, Joseph realizes that’s a topic he’s never really heard much about. He knows his cousin basically has an open marriage and sleeps around, but he’s always heard whispers there was a woman he was with for years. 

“She just ended it one day.” Jey answers with a shrug. “Uce really ain't say much outside of that. It was sudden though.”

“But was it? Three years of waiting around for a guy to maybe or maybe not leave his wife for you?” Naomi serves as a counter, shaking her head and leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand. “Sounds like more than enough time to me.”

“It wasn’t nothing like that though. They was just messing around,” Jimmy defends.

“He cut off every other woman he was messing with when they were together.” Jey distinctly remembers how his cousin had one woman and only one woman on speed dial during that period, and it was you. It was always you. “I think it was more than just messing around.”

Joseph nods, taking in all this information. “So, if she is his, do you think she kept her a secret to get back at him for not divorcing Jadah?” It’s a bold question, but a valid one that Jey is the first to dispute.

“Naw, I’m with Naomi. Y/N wouldn’t do that.”

Jimmy shakes his head, starting to see how this is all looking to play out. “Well, if that is Joe’s daughter and that’s how he found out he has a child….this shit is about to get real ugly.”

________

Joe tried to tell himself it was just a wild coincidence. Reminded himself that you yourself said you wanted to get married, have kids. And you’d done that, had a kid. However, revisiting your Instagram pictures, in none of your posts did he see a man.

Or a wedding ring.

And just how fucking quickly could you have moved on? Doing the math, you would have had to have someone on speed dial to get pregnant as fast as you did. And that doesn’t line up with who he knew you to be. You were fucking him and only him. 

You were with him and only him.

So that left him and only him.

And like a man hyperfixated on trying to solve a puzzle, he looks at every single post on your Instagram, starting from the year you met up until now. He focuses especially on the posts that include your daughter, not that many, but enough. 

And when it’s all said and done, thoughts vs counterthoughts, logic vs emotion, Joe is 100% convinced that this is his child.

That he’s just now found out he’s a father through fucking Instagram. 

And now he’s pissed because who the hell were you to keep his child from him? He didn’t give a fuck how you felt about him and his being married, that didn’t give you an excuse to hide a whole kid? 

His kid. 

________

“Ready for your bedtime story, Callie Bear?” 

Reading with Callie has been a must since you found out you were pregnant. Your mom always told you how she read to you in the womb and to this day believes it’s why you always tested out so high with your reading abilities, even in the first grade. You’re not sure how accurate it is, having read some studies and whatnot, but you’ve followed suit, reading to Callie even when she was in your belly. Almost five years later, it’s now a tradition. She can’t go to sleep without a story.

She nods happily. You laugh and slide into the bed next to her. Naturally, she cuddles close to you, book already picked out and waiting on the bed. It’s one she’s heard a dozen times before but one of her favorites, so you read it just as theatrically, voice changes, and everything. Her giggles of happiness and merriment warm your heart. You love these one-on-one moments, wishing you could jar them and keep them stored away forever.

You’re a couple chapters in when she starts to yawn, eyes struggling to stay open, that you slide in the bookmark and promise to pick it up again tomorrow. You know Callie is ready to call it a night when she doesn’t protest. 

But, it’s after placing the book on the shelf and going to tuck her into her covers that she hits you with a question that nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

“Mommy, why don’t I have a daddy?”

You’re not stupid, far from it. This question was bound to come up, sooner or later. For your own selfish sake though, you were hopeful for later, much much later.

She continues, almost nervous in tone. “Ms. Leah said you need a mommy and a daddy to make a baby, so where’s my daddy?”

Curious how the conversation of where babies came from came about, you make a mental note to discuss this with your daughter’s preschool teacher before working to answer her valid question. Truth be told, you have no idea how to answer it. But if anxiety was the dominant emotion before, sadness and devastation easily topple that at the next thing to come out of her mouth.

“Does he not  love me?”

It’s not until that moment that you truly know what it feels like for your heart to shatter into absolute pieces.

“Oh, baby….” Crouching down beside her bed, you move your hand to her forehead, thumb gently caressing her soft skin. You’re so damn lost on how to handle this, what to say to take away her obvious pain, that you go with the soonest thing that hits the forefront of your brain. “Your daddy…..he….he wasn’t ready to be a daddy.”

It could be the truth, it could be a lie. You never gave yourself—or him—the chance to find out, and up until this point, you never saw an issue with that. But now….now you’re wondering just who you made that decision for. 

And if it was the right one.

Callie’s frown deepens, the answer clearly not one that makes her feel any better. “What if I’m a really good girl? Will he be ready then?”

The shattered pieces are now dust, granulated dust that you struggle to hold together in trembling palms. You bring both hands to her face. “Calista, you listen to me. You are the kindest, sweetest, most amazing little girl in the whole wide world. You don’t need to do anything to be a good girl because you are already a good girl, the best girl.”

Her eyes glaze over as she sniffles and asks in a small voice. “So why doesn’t he want me?”

“Oh, sweetie…” You pull her into a hug, holding her close and tight, as if doing so will allow her to absorb all of the love and adoration you have for this tiny human who made your life have meaning. “I’m gonna talk to him, okay? I’ll….I’ll talk to him.” That’s all you can say, even if it’s not a guarantee, even if you have no idea where such an offer came from. And you hate yourself for doing that, for getting her hopes up over something that may not even happen. You haven’t spoken to Joe in almost five years, there’s no guarantee the number is even still the same.

Still, you know you have to at least try, especially when you pull back and see the renewed hope in her teary eyes, the eyes she shares with the father she’s clearly desperate to know about, to meet, to have. 

You close your eyes and press your forehead against hers, speaking with all the love and affirmation in the world, “I love you, Calista. Always, baby.” 

You’re relieved to hear her reply in a less saddened and more hopeful tone, “I love you too, mommy.”

It’s after you’re certain Callie is knocked out and you’ve exhausted every single step of your nighttime routine that you pace around your room, partially trying to avoid an action you know you need to take. 

Especially when you find his number in your phone from an old text thread you could never find it in you to delete. 

You go back and forth for nearly twenty minutes before deciding on a simple question.

is this still joe’s number?

You feel like a damn child, throwing the phone down on the bed and burying your face into your hands. This is so much more difficult than it needs to be, or maybe it isn’t. You made the executive decision to not make Joe aware of your pregnancy for a variety of reasons that felt solid at the time.

Now…now you don’t know any fucking thing anymore, it seems. 

What you do know is that you nearly jump off the bed when your phone begins to ring. Frowning, you look at the time, wondering who in the hell could be calling you at damn near midnight.

But, it’s when you lift your phone to see the caller you know exactly why someone is calling you at damn near midnight.

Ignoring it is so tempting, but the image of Callie in tears wondering why she’s not loved or wanted is more than enough to trample your selfish desires. Sliding the green button upward, you place the phone against your ear, take a deep breath, and speak, “hi.” 

He exhales, your name leaving his mouth for the first time in years. Hearing his voice, let alone hearing him say your name, creates a heaviness you weren’t expecting. Then again, you weren’t expecting to speak to him at all tonight.

Or ever, for that matter.

Communication is suddenly incredibly difficult as you struggle to string words together to create a cohesive statement. “I’m….I’m sorry for calling so late, but—”

“We need to talk.” While your tone is soft and nervous, his is serious and borderline stoic. It takes you for a bit of a loop, but you try not to put too much into it. The real focus should be why he interrupted you so harshly with such a bold statement. He’s not wrong, but why does he think you need to talk? “I’ll get a flight out tomorrow.”

That breaks you from your thoughts. A what?  “wait—”

“You still at the same place?”

Swallowing, still very much confused, you answer, “yes, but—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

The phone goes silent on the other end, and you realize it’s because he’s ended the call. You must stare at that phone for a good five minutes in complete utter shock. Eventually, coming out of the catatonia, only one thought circulates around your mind.

What in the actual fuck just happened? 

[marianchurchland]

I'm boiling inside my own flesh after that trailer, so please accept this old, maybe objectively too creepy Cole drawing while I find time for new DA art. I can claim that it has a Haloween vibe, at least...

The reason it's so weird, by the way, is because I drew it using the poem "Wodwo" by Ted Hughes as a prompt. My bff @klovharun gave me the whole poetry book at the height of my DAI obsession because she thought "Gog" had Solas vibes; and it occurs to me right now that this has to be one of the best examples of friendship ever. Not just "I was thinking of you", but one step further, "I was thinking of your all-consuming fixation". She also made a Solas breakup playlist for me, which I still listen to. That is love!

Poems below for anyone who might like them.

Wodwo

What am I? Nosing here, turning leaves over

Following a faint stain on the air to the river's edge

I enter water. Who am I to split

The glassy grain of water looking upward I see the bed

Of the river above me upside down very clear

What am I doing here in mid-air? Why do I find

this frog so interesting as I inspect its most secret

interior and make it my own? Do these weeds

know me and name me to each other have they

seen me before do I fit in their world? I seem

separate from the ground and not rooted but dropped

out of nothing casually I've no threads

fastening me to anything I can go anywhere

I seem to have been given the freedom

of this place what am I then? And picking

bits of bark off this rotten stump gives me

no pleasure and it's no use so why do I do it

me and doing that have coincided very queerly

But what shall I be called am I the first

have I an owner what shape am I what

shape am I am I huge if I go

to the end on this way past these trees and past these trees

till I get tired that's touching one wall of me

for the moment if I sit still how everything

stops to watch me I suppose I am the exact centre

but there's all this what is it roots

roots roots roots and here's the water

again very queer but I'll go on looking

Gog I

I woke to a shout: 'I am Alpha and Omega!'

Rocks and a few trees trembled

Deep in their own country.

I ran and an absence bounded beside me.

The dog's god is a scrap dropped from the table,

The mouse's savior is a ripe wheat grain—

Hearing the Messiah cry

My mouth widens in adoration.

How fat are the lichens!

They cushion themselves on the silence.

The air wants for nothing.

The dust, too, is replete.

What was my error? My skull has sealed it out.

My great bones are massed in me.

They beat on the earth, my song excites them.

I do not look at the rocks and stones, I am frightened of what they see.

I listen to the song jarring my mouth

Where the skull-rooted teeth are in possession.

I am massive on earth. My feetbones beat on the earth

Over the sound of motherly weeping....

Afterwards, I drink at a pool quietly,

The horizons bear the rocks and trees away into twilight.

I lie down, I become darkness—

Darkness that all night sings and circles stamping.

-Ted Hughes

[miyukisu]

Ain't I Fallen In Love .ᐟ

❤︎ | he doesn't realize it yet, but he's kind of clingy ╰ feat. miyuki kazuya (dna)

tags - clingy miyuki, hint of pro player!miyuki, fluff and more fluff, i love him, it's his birthday tomorrow yay

a/n - based on the song Sweet Dreams, TN by the Last Shadow Puppets (pls listen to it!)

MEGA MASTERLIST

Kazuya thinks he isn't the clingy type of boyfriend. There was just no way.

Yet, it seems as if he's addicted to your presence. His words may betray him, but his actions certainly don't.

You see it in the way he aimlessly follows you around your shared space, talking your ear off as you busy yourself with chores. He doesn't even realize how talkative he becomes around you—that's when he's the happiest.

He goes on and on about some random thing he stumbled upon recently, until he realizes he had been talking for a solid 10 minutes or so. He stops, shrinks, and backtracks most of the time. You know the face he makes when it dawns on him that he had been yapping nonstop. It makes you laugh—it makes you smile really wide. Kazuya gets flustered when you have to reassure him that it's alright. But he insists that he isn't clingy.

I just sort of always feel sick without you baby I ain't got anything to lick without you, baby Nothing seems to stick without you, baby

At least, he isn't the guy who can't hang out with his friends anymore once he got a girlfriend. Kazuya meets up with his buddies every once in a while to catch up about life.

They talk about all sorts of things, from the mundane all the way to the extraordinaire. But somehow—somehow Kazuya manages to weave you in every thought he spews.

You'd think it's impossible, but it's true.

"Oh yeah. She was just talking about that the other day."

"I'm sure she'd love to hear about this."

His friends find it funny, how whipped this man was—how you got a man like him wrapped around your tiny little finger. They didn't have to meet you to like you; they just knew right away that you were something else to be able to turn Kazuya into this.

Cue the relentless teasing—Kazuya will lean back with a huff. Again, insisting that wasn't the case. Nevertheless, everyone saw that sparkle in his eyes whenever he'd get to bring you up. But he continues to insist that he isn't clingy—his friends were just jealous.

And all my pals will tell me is that I'm crazy You bet I'm loopy alright And I just don't recognize this fool That you have made me

His feet always lead him to where you were. He could be watching a good game of baseball on the living room TV. But, as soon as he realizes you were in the bedroom, he'll promptly shut it off and opt to watch the game on his phone instead. It hardly mattered to him that he'd have to squint and maybe lower the volume for you.

He sees you wrapped under the covers, silently reading that book you were telling him about the other day. Slowly, he'll approach, phone in hand. Kazuya would slide under the covers, shoving his arm beneath you and pulling you close. For a few minutes, he tries to remain engrossed in the unfolding match. It was he 9th inning; it was getting interesting.

But the arm that held his phone wanted nothing else but to drape over you—finally engulfing you in an embrace. So, he turns his phone off too, chucking he device somewhere off to the side of the bed.

When he pulled you in, he felt content in every way. He could always check the score of the match later. But to touch you like this feels like the first time every time. But, still, he insists that he isn't clingy.

And as you're shrinking figure blows a kiss I catch and smash it on my lips Darling, I can't seem to quit Completely falling to bits

They do say that the heart grows fonder with absence. He thinks he's at his wit's end without you—his anchor—by his side.

He sits alone, off to the side away from his teammates who were busy soaking up the adrenaline from their recent away game. Kazuya becomes restless almost immediately, just 5 minutes after sending the text, telling you that they had won. Rather than thinking about the victory, he wonders what kind of face you'd make upon reading the text or how you'd greet him once he comes home.

He glances down at his wrist where a hair tie of yours had found its way there. When did he start wearing that? Ah. It was his lucky charm all long. It made him smile, only inwardly though.

Closing his eyes, he thinks about you and in a moment of self-awareness... he reevaluates things.

Maybe he is a bit clingy.

Love like an ache in the jaw You're the first day of spring with a septum piercing Little Miss Sweet Dreams

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note ohhh clingy Miyuki... you will always have my heart

[lucvly]

BEL AIR — chris sturniolo. ♪

warnings › tooth rotting fluff. not proofread !

author’s note › i miss writing fluff :(. this is just a 3 am scenario but in writing. also, i’ve been naming all my fics after the lana song i’m listening to as i write <3.

2:30 AM, JANUARY 5.

the feeling of your bed slightly stirring made your eyes flutter open, the small beams of light entering your bedroom making it harder for you to even attempt to go back to sleep. the light startled your eyes, causing you to rub your eyes slowly before yawning and looking over to your right, seeing your boyfriend still residing in a peaceful sleep.

he looked gorgeous, as always. something about watching him sleep was always going to do it for you. his messy hair from stirring in his sleep, his mouth ever so slightly open as he breathed steadily and rhythmically, and of course he was hogging most of your shared blanket, but that undoubtedly was the least of your concerns as you indulged in the sweet moment that was these moments with your boyfriend.

seems like he could feel your lingering gaze on his face, or he could simply feel the absence of your presence and warmth near him, because his eyes started to open, blinking a few times to fully wake him up.

a smile started to form on your face as you watched him wake up, and he mirrored it, a lopsided smile also starting to appear on his lips as he started to actually be aware of the moment.

“stop watching me sleep, creep.” his morning voice was so groggy yet so clear, a chuckle escaping his lips as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“fine, next time i’ll just kick you off the bed.” your reply was quick, the tone in your voice still sounded like you were half asleep, and was followed by a roll of your eyes, then a quick kiss to his cheek.

“morning.” he finally said, his tone dripping the sweetness that you loved. his lopsided smile and the sleepy eyes made it hard to concentrate on anything other than him. like the fact you both had places to be in less than two hours.

“morning, i missed you.” you admitted, a soft giggle echoing in the room as you slightly moved closer to him, just enough to rest your head on his chest. being able to listen to his heartbeat was comforting, instantly making a wave of sleepiness wash over you once again.

“i missed you too,” he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, one arm rubbing your back gently, starting to trace random shapes and patterns into your skin with just his fingertips, causing shivers to run down your spine as your head laid comfortably on his chest.

“i don’t wanna get up, seriously.” you let out a sigh, the warmth and feeling of safety he radiated was overpowering your will to fully get up, even though you were well aware you both had a busy day.

“me neither.” he groaned, placing another kiss on the top of your head once again, his hand moving to play with your hair gently. “what if we just stayed in bed all day?”

you couldn’t help but giggle. he was truly the sweetest, and if he continued pleading you were sure he would’ve convinced you to stay in bed with him for the rest of the day.

against all your wishes, you pulled away from his embrace and sat up on the end of the bed, still taking in the morning sun and the smell of the vanilla scented candle you left burning throughout the night, which you probably had to put out.

“c’mon, i’ll make breakfast.” you finally stood up, looking for your slippers before actually even thinking about making your way to the kitchen.

“come back to bed, i’ll just push the meeting with matt and nick,” he whined, his arms reaching for you as you leaned over to him and placed a quick kiss to his lips. “please?” his morning voice was still evident, and he knew this made it almost impossible for you to say no.

“fine. five more minutes.”

[kimberbohwrites]

Can't believe I hit 150 Followers that fast. Thank you. I wrote my little heart out to get this done in time.

Do I Wanna Know?

Featuring a prompt from @sorceresssundries who handed out song-based prompts and assigned me: "Do I Wanna Know?" by: The Arctic Monkeys. Rated: Explicit, MDNI, 18+ (Smut) Word Count: 3,165 Kudos/Comment on AO3

The air was thick and humid, it hung heavy on the city, clinging in all the worst ways — like a wet blanket. It had been like this for days now, with nary a breeze to grant them even a moment’s solace from the oppressive heat. Children ran down to splash in the Chionthar, while adults lounged in the shadiest spaces they could find and fanned themselves — hoping for a moment of reprieve from the sun. Baldur’s Gate ground to a halt in the face of a sustained heatwave, filling the long summer days with an unusually lazy energy for such a bustling city.

It wasn’t the temperature that agitated the grouchy tiefling as he sat in his desk chair, a different heat had been consuming his body and soul. It had been weeks since the final battle and he hadn’t seen or heard from Tav. Sure, he had heard of her survival through the paper and the gossip on the streets. But that wasn’t the same.

The last time he’d seen her things had been awkward to say the very least. She had defeated, with his assistance, his abusive former master and the mantle of the Archwizard of Baldur’s Gate had suddenly fallen to him. Every moment since then had been filled with the constant demand from his new responsibilities but in the back of his mind, Tav constantly lingered. It had taken him too long to realize his obvious feelings. It wasn’t until just before the final battle, when he considered losing her for the first time, that he became fully aware. He hadn’t slept in the days that followed that, not until he was sure she had survived.

And yet, she hadn’t stopped by to see him, there was so much to do he knew, rebuilding and resting, but her absence still hounded him like an itch gone unscratched. When his eyes closed at night, she was always waiting for him. He let himself dream of a reality where it was her, in the flesh, waiting for him in his bed each night. Hours of sleep were lost to imagining how she would feel against him, under him — imagining her taste or how she might sound as she cried out for him.

He’d felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach when he’d started touching himself to these thoughts. Trying to turn his mind elsewhere had failed and the first time he’d come to the thought of her he had almost passed out from the pleasure. There was no turning back for him now and like a dehydrated sailor at sea who drinks saltwater, it had only worsened the problem and drove him to seek release to his fantasies of her more often.

He’d become desperate for her, and he felt a little pathetic.

The worst part was the constant wondering. Could she ever feel the same? Did he even want to know the answer? Would he ever see her again? These damned questions nagged at him more than any heat could. After a few evening glasses of Arabellen Dry, he’d found he could think of nothing else and letting his questions consume him. It made him feel better to imagine that she was doing the same, in her cups and thinking of him. 

In his imagination and even in his dreams, she comes bounding to his door to confess her love, all flushed cheeks and bleary eyes. Lately there seemed to be no escape from her hold over him.

His siblings had been nothing but helpful, always picking on his pining for her and the fact that he never acted on it. They had tried to take his mind off things, and he’d gone out with them, only for them to point out attractive people he might approach. He’d even tried to be a good sport, tried to chat up whomever they pointed out, tried to find them interesting but there was never any spark. Before long he’d realized the problem was that in his mind, he was already Tav’s. Tears had brimmed in his eyes and a heaviness had set in his heart when he realized that even if he never saw her again, he’d always be hers.

It wasn’t fair.

Surely, she had done some trick, some cheat to make him feel this way? How else could he explain this constant longing that he felt. He was an arch mage, for gods sake, he was resigned to pull himself together. Every time he thought he’d managed to banish the obsession he was humbled by failure once more, most recently by a street performer out in front of the shop.

He’d been closing up after a long, steaming day and as he’d gone to lock the doors he spotted the buskers setting up to ply their trade for the evening. Even a city as lively at night as The Gate can fall victim to an influx of evening debauchery when the days had proven to be too warm for life’s pleasures. So, the performers in the heatwave had taken to setting up after sundown, better to catch a paying audience on these busy, sinful summer nights.

The musician was inconsequential to Rolan. It was the opening ballad he’d strummed that Rolan had overheard as he locked up that caught his attention. The opening notes stopped him in his tracks before he’d closed the doors, the song was one of the ones Alfira had played that night at the Emerald Grove, when they’d spent the evening under the stars in celebration of their continued survival. He’d spent the night trying to work up the courage to talk to her, not understanding then that the anxiety he felt in his gut was the beginning of all of this.

Finally, after some liquid courage, a few dazzling spells, and her adoring applause he’d approached her just as Alfira had struck up this very song.

“I love this one,” she’d said

He’d barely heard her, distracted by her eyes in firelight, how could he have not known then?

“Beautiful,” he’d said before he realized his mouth was moving.

“It is, isn’t it?” She’d agreed

In hindsight he was almost positive he wasn’t talking about the song, but he had been grateful for the easy out. As his mind drifted back from the memory of her breathtaking eyes, the bard had finished the song and Rolan strode out with a hand fishing in his pocket for coins.

“Play it again”

The coins plunked into the case as the bard grinned at the handsome tip and began the song over. Rolan strode away slowly back to the tower, letting the melody hold him in that beautiful memory once more. In truth he’d have paid the musician a small fortune to play the song over and over until he’d drifted off to sleep if he was sure that Cal and Lia wouldn’t have caught him. He’d fallen asleep to thoughts of her and dreamed of her that night, and every night following that tenday.

The hot days continued, growing to an intolerable level. Maybe that was why he’d agreed to go out again with his siblings. This time instead of the Blushing Mermaid they were hitting up the Elfsong Tavern to visit Alfira and Lakrissa, Dammon, and the rest of the group. Alfira had reserved the rooftop for a special sundown party in the small but lovely space.

As the sun went down a cool breeze began to blow off the Sea of Swords for the first time since the start of the heatwave. It picked up the strands of his hair and lightly tossed them as the wind kissed his sweat soaked skin, finally cooling him off for the first time in days. He was already one glass of wine in when he spotted her coming up from the ladder that led to the roof.

Tav was here.

He tried not to notice her, instead engrossing himself deeper in his talk with Dammon about some ore or another — to be honest he hadn’t been listening but was content to nod along. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her be greeted by their hosts, who were clearly thrilled to see her. She looked beautiful. It didn’t matter if he’d noted a few new minor scars on her skin, likely from the final battle — she was a vision of beauty regardless. Her bright smile seemed to radiate light even after sundown. Her laughter, the very same sweet melody that haunted him. 

When she finally approached him after a few minutes, he was already fighting to play it cool.

“It feels like it might rain,” she said casually to him as a greeting, her bright smile forcing his heart to skip a beat or two.

“Preposterous, it’s been bone dry for weeks”

“Then I suppose it’s high time for some rain, huh?”

He didn’t respond. Thinking carefully about his words.

His eyes swept up and down her frame, admiring the curves and the toned muscle displayed in the minimal sundress she’d worn against the heat. Gods he wanted her so bad and here she was, just a few inches away. But there was no way that she would want him too, he’d already convinced himself of that fact.

“You haven’t visited,”

“Did you miss me, Rolan?”

The blush that crept across his cheeks was only disguised by the evening as he glanced away to compose himself. Even though the rooftop was filled with at least a dozen other people he knew, whenever he spoke with Tav it felt like they were the only two people around. When he turned his attention back to her, he couldn’t help but flick his gaze down to her lips for the briefest second. Gods how he felt the constant urge to put his lips on hers, threatening to plunge him into madness.

“Cal and Lia miss you, is all”

Before she could respond, a single fat rain drop plopped down on her cheek and she glanced up. After a moment a few more heavy drops of rain followed and people began to flee the roof to protect their drinks and fine clothes. The temperature dropped quickly but Rolan didn’t move, maintaining eye contact with Tav as the roof cleared. All around them steam hissed up from the quenched streets and stonework. He’d waited too long to see her, and he wasn’t wasting this moment.

The rain had charged the air between them, or maybe it was the fact that they were alone — but something had shifted the atmosphere.

“Rolan—“

“Quiet.”

She looked shocked, almost stricken until he blurted the rest out.

“Can I kiss you?”

The shock lingered on her face only a moment longer, replaced by a coy smile as she nodded in agreement.

He was on her in a moment, lips pressed to hers, fingers in her wet hair. The drinks they’d been holding crashed to the ground as they lunged at each other with an unrestrained passion. He felt her tongue on his lips and opened up to her, angling her face to deepen their kiss as the rain came down around them.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

He panted out the truth when they finally broke only for oxygen.

“Me too”

He pushed her up against a stone column on the roof with a sudden movement at her confession, claiming her lips with his once more.

“Rolan —“She gasped out, “Are you sure? We shouldn’t do this if you aren’t sure.”

He broke away and pressed his forehead against hers.

“I have dreamed of you, of this, every night for longer than I care to admit. Tav I missed you, not Cal, not Lia — I missed you. So much so that had I known where you were I would have crawled to be there by your side. I- I love you, Tav.”

The storm, the rain, it all faded away when he heard her breathe out her next five words with tears in her beautiful eyes.

“I love you too, Rolan.”

He kissed her hard, wrapping her legs around his waist as his tail coiled around her ankles to hold her there. She tasted like wine and fresh summer rain. Deceptively strong, Rolan lifted her easily from against the wall and carried her to the only slight shelter available on the roof. It was a small, covered area, safely out of sight of any onlookers or would-be voyeurs on the ground. 

“Mine” he growled between kisses as he gently lowered her to the ground with him on top, supporting his weight on his forearms. His body caging hers against the elements.

“Yours” she murmured sweetly in agreement.

Her hands eagerly shot up to begin stripping the wet clothes from his body, her soft fingers tracing the ridges on any exposed skin she could find. He groaned into the hot kisses he laved down her neck and ground his hard length against her core. She was so openly eager for him, and it drove him to the brink of a feral lust. She moaned as she felt his tail coil up and around her leg, up the skirt of her dress. Before long she’d worked off his robes and his top, their lips never leaving each other’s skin as her fingers traced down his ridged torso. When she began to untie the laces of his trousers, a wry laugh escaped him as pretended to chastise her.

“My, my, greedy as always, aren’t we?”

She bit her lip and groaned in response, his words having the desired effect. At the same time the spade of his tail made contact with her dripping cunt and Rolan was surprised to discover it was bare. A low moan of need followed her groan as she felt his tail begin to stroke at her folds.

“Rolan,” she gasped

He covered her mouth with hers once more with another bruising kiss, still too eager for her and caught up in the moment. His tail gently teased at her entrance, swirling around and preparing her while his hands lowered her dress and exposed her breasts to him. Moving down to tongue at an exposed nipple while gently rolling the other between his claws, ever cautious of his horns at this angle.

Her hands stroked his hardened cock from the moment she freed it from his pants, applying a gentle but firm pressure as she worked him in her fist. He was groaning into her skin as he licked and sucked at every exposed part he could find. Meanwhile his tail pushed into her, slowly working in and out of her warmth as he prepared her. No longer could she contain her pleasure in small sounds, if not for the rain her moans would be heard clearly from the ground. 

Surely the heatwave had driven him to madness over the previous weeks or he’d died of a related affliction and hadn’t realized it. It seemed impossible that he could be on top of the Tav, fucking her with his tail while she jerked him off and screamed for more. But when he opened his eyes, she was still there, now begging for him.

“Please, please Rolan” she moaned as he worked her to her first climax with his tail, hands, and mouth.

“First,” He stopped and slowly licked from her belly button up to her sternum, tasting the fresh rainwater from on her supple skin, “cum on my tail, Tav.”

That was all it took. He felt her walls clench and flutter around him, as she called his name and drenched his tail with her desire. It had been lucky that in her pleasure she’d let go of his cock. Otherwise, he was sure he would have finished just from her hand and the sound of his name on her lips as she came undone just for him.

Gently removing his tail, he lined himself up with her entrance, now better prepared for his size. He may have been shy about the many tiefling traits he’d inherited but he’d never complained about his size. Nor had he ever heard a complaint from any lover, for that matter. Leaning up to kiss her, he looked deeply into her eyes, finally not afraid to let his unabashed love show through — with a silent question he searched to be sure he wasn’t going too far.

“Rolan,” she mewled desperately

He plunged into her, gritting his teeth to keep from cumming on the spot. They moaned in tandem at the sensation, their bodies fitting together in a way that left them lightheaded.

“Gods you feel perfect” he ground out

“Fuck,” she moaned, “You’re huge”

He remained motionless, allowing her time to adjust to his size and fighting the growing urge to claim her roughly on the ground like an animal. Next time he’d have her in his bed and he’d fuck her through the mattress. But not on the hard roof of the Elfsong, and thus he fought against his instincts.

Once she nodded for him to continue, he began to rock in and out of her gently. Even with taking his tail first she was still tight around him, and he could feel the ridges of his cock drag against her walls deep within. He cursed himself for pining after her for so long as he began to fuck into her deeper, he already knew he wouldn’t last long now that he was inside her. Determined to prove himself in body, he needed to make her scream for him at once more before he could finish for himself.

He dropped to put her knees on his shoulders, using his tail to hold them together behind his neck as he adjusted his angle to pound deeper into her. Gently, as to avoid his claws, he used the pads of his fingers to rub her clit — eliciting cries of pleasure from her that were so sinfully perfect, he knew they’d fill his dreams until his last day.

“Rolannnn,” She nearly wailed his name as her cunt began to clench and flutter around his cock.  

“That’s it Tav, do it for me, cum for me, you’re mine.”

He coached her over the edge into bliss and watched her eyes roll back in her head as she screamed his name and came all over his cock. That was it for him, he buried himself deep within her and came with a grunt. Filling her as he ground his hips into hers, he dropped her legs and kissed her again. Breathless from their collective ecstasy, only the sound of their pants and the delicate evening rain hung between them.

“I want this,” He finally broke the silence, feeling bolder with her in his arms.

“Me too, we could be together, if you wanted to.” Rolan couldn’t help but smile into the next kiss he gave hers. After all this time of being hers, finally she was his too.

[vinsmokesangio]

facetime call

pairing: tom blyth x bestfriend!reader x actress!reader

summary: you decide to “relax” your body and your best friend almost caught you. this is a second part of this au.

warnings: mentions of past relationships, f!masturbation, suggestive conversations | english’s not my native language | no proofread

genre: friends to lovers

word count: 733

masterlist

A few days passed after that “date”, where you and Tom shared the first kiss and confessed to each other. You feared your friendship might change after that, but actually it was going pretty well, at least for you. Tom still texted you, sending you memes and making facetime calls. The feeling was amazing, you really feel like you’re living a teenage dream, like that song. Unfortunately, past relationships still haunted you with your traumas. The fear of being left alone again always playing tricks on your mind… You didn't have the opportunity to meet your friends in common with Tom to talk about what happened between you both, but the last photo dump you posted on your IG account and the comments you've received from them might could’ve been useful for them to gossip about it in your absence. You’ve been really busy, finishing your drama school and preparing for the Christmas play which would be in a few days. Tom promised he’ll be attending, so as the rest of your friends and the thought of that made you anxious. Tom is a really good actor, and it kinda intimidates you, since you’re still graduating.

You went home and took a hot shower to let go your anxious thoughts. Have you noticed you’ve been thinking a lot lately? About everything? You can read the first paragraph again and take your notes… All the “what ifs” was driving you crazy, so you decided to take a breath and take care of yourself this evening. Skincare routine while watching Stranger Things for the third time, moisturising your hair.

No matter how much you tried to distract yourself, all your thoughts came back to Tom. His sweet lips in perfect sync with yours, his big hands caressing your body, hot and burning with desire. It was innocent and romantic, but the memory somehow turned you on. Since you were alone, why not take advantage, huh?

Lying comfortable in your bed, you let your hands help alleviate this feeling, letting them run down your body until you found the source of the heat you were feeling. Your mind masterfully reproduced the few moments of affection you exchanged with your best friend until then. The desire for months of accumulated sexual tension, the heat of his confession and the good feeling of conquest made you more excited and you began to pant. It didn't take long for your movements to become more intense, your breathing more shallow and you reached your peak. Letting out a long - but low - moan, you recover on the bed. Until you receive a facetime from Tom and shame takes over your face. You decide to answer, why not?

”Hey” - you say breathlessly. Damn, it would be hard to disguise what you just did thinking about him.

“Hi!!! Where are you? I’ve got news for you, Billy the Kid was renewed for a third… are you okay?”

Tom was extremely hyperactive and when he was happy, he seemed to vomit his words. But his euphoric expression quickly changed to concern as he watched you move a little on camera, your forehead sweaty and… wrapped in a towel?

“y/n, are you naked???” he burst out laughing, and you tried to hide in your pillow, but soon joined in with the laughter.

“Yeah, I am! I was showering!” giving up trying to hide it, you simply accept it and join in on his game. You notice his expression change to a more mischievous look.

“……….. Well, I've never had sex via FaceTime, but if you...”

“TOM! Shut the fuck up!!” then you both laugh again. That's why you love him. The way he always makes things lighter, making jokes, being goofy. He is your comfort. It's simply impossible to feel embarrassed around him, he will always make the mood delicious.

Tom then finishes telling his news, that the series would be renewed for a third season and he would receive the text soon. He was happy and you could tell from afar. You tell him about your day and a few minutes later, the call ends. You hang up the call and stare at the ceiling of your room, not noticing the huge smile on your face. You allow yourself to feel what you're feeling, you allow yourself to fall in love, and you accept it. Whatever will be will be.

[reidingandwriting]

Speak Now (Hotch’s Version)

Chapter One: Enchanted

“All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you”

Word Count: ~1000 words

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings: None I think? This chapter is pure fluff :)

Next chapter

A/N: Hello hello! This is the start of my Eras Tour fanfic series, and we are starting with the album Speak Now featuring Aaron Hotchner! Every chapter in this series will follow a song from Taylor Swift’s album being featured to tell a story of a relationship. I am super excited for this series! If you have any characters you’d like to tie to future albums, please let me know! Some series may feature canon couples, some may feature ships, some may be reader-inserts, so I hope at least one part of the series clicks with you 💜 This chapter is a shorter one, sorry!

Another FBI banquet. A perfect way to spend one of the only days off you got, you huffed as you took a sip of your champagne. You stood by your colleagues, surrounded by the same boring conversation, and you forced laughter and faked smiles where appropriate. Rehearsed answers fell from your lips as your gaze shifted across the room, and you paused when your eyes met dark brown ones.

There was an air of familiarity around the man and you watched as his expression molded into one similar to how you felt. Subtle, but a faint hint of questioning in his eyes. You were surprised as he started to cross the room, and you found yourself walking over to meet him before you realized you were. “Have we met before?” You blurted and his brows furrowed, and you were quick to continue talking. “I’m sorry. You just seem really familiar, like I’ve seen you before.”

“I’ve been to a few of these,” he said before he stuck his hand out. You took his hand in your own and shook it. “Aaron Hotchner.” You introduced yourself before letting go of his hand. Hotchner, Hotchner…

“From the BAU, right?” You asked and Hotchner nodded. “From Sex Crimes, myself.” You nodded over to your colleagues, where your absence was not noticed. “They don’t know it yet, but my transfer was just approved this afternoon.” You took another sip of champagne as Hotchner’s brows raised ever so slightly.

“A transfer? Any reason you wanted to leave?” Hotchner started to edge away from the crowd and you followed suit.

“I love the work I did, don’t get me wrong. I just… felt like my time there has reached its end. I’d been eyeing transferring for a while, and when the opportunity made itself known, I went for it. I didn’t think I’d get it, to be honest,” you admitted, “but somehow I did.”

“Congratulations on the transfer. Where are you transferring, if I may ask?”

“And ruin my mysterious appeal?” You teased and were pleasantly surprised to get a smile and a huff of laughter from Hotchner. “But I want to keep it under wraps for a little longer. It just feels… surreal. Like if I say it out loud, I’ll wake up from the dream and lose it all.” Hotchner nodded in what seemed like understanding, and the two of you continued to talk for what felt like ages but seconds at the same time. You had no idea how much time had passed until the crowd started to dissipate, the largest group remaining consisting of some agents not-so-subtlety watching Hotchner. One immediately caught your attention, her outfit a bit flashier and brighter than everyone else’s. Like a ray of sunshine between the sea of blacks and blues.

“You’ve got some admirers,” you said and Hotchner rolled his eyes lightheartedly.

“That would be my team. Meddling children, all of them.”

“They’re lucky to have you, from my judgment.” You smiled. “I unfortunately should let you go, tend to your children. And I have a busy day tomorrow, finalizing papers and saying my goodbyes.”

“Good luck with everything, Y/L/N,” Hotchner said and you exchanged your goodbyes. You started to walk away, then paused for a moment before you called out his name.

“I’ve got a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again soon.” You winked as you walked off, missing the contemplative look on his face. As you walked back to your car, you couldn’t help feeling like a school-aged kid with a playground crush. Aaron Hotchner. You didn’t know much about the man, just the basics of his department and what you learned while speaking to him tonight, but you couldn’t believe your luck to have met him. Cheeks flushed, you got into your car and drove home, smiling the entire drive.

-

A week had passed since the Annual Banquet and you paced the floor of your apartment, talking to your best friend.

“You don’t understand, you didn’t get to meet him. There’s no way he’s available,” you told your friend who sighed from their spot on the couch. “I can’t believe I’m this obsessed with a man I met once. It’s pathetic, isn’t it? Wait, don’t answer that.”

“You’ve wanted to be in the BAU since your, what, second year in the FBI? In a way, you looked up to him. You wanted to be in his position. And then you got to meet him, and you’ve always had a tendency of taking small things and running with them.” You scowled before you fell back against the couch, groaning.

“Aaron fucking Hotchner.” You said and your friend laughed. “What I would give for him to just be on my doorstep, like ‘Hey, I know we’ve only met once and only spoke at a work event, but meeting you was the best part of my night.”

“Enchanting sounds better,” your friend corrected. “He was enchanted to meet you. Who knows? Maybe this is the start of the story, not the end. And besides, you’ll see him again soon.”

“Not soon enough.”

Aaron Hotchner

Aaron Hotchner

Hotchner

Hotchner

Aaron.

You walked into the Quantico building a few days later, early Monday morning. You had greatly overestimated your commute and how long your meeting with the Section Chief would take, and you stood outside the bullpen, occasionally talking to the Section Chief to settle your nerves. The elevator dinged and you admittedly flinched at the sudden noise.

“Agent Hotchner,” Section Chief Strauss spoke and you lowered your gaze, suddenly finding the flooring very interesting until you felt a hand on your shoulder. “Meet your newest agent.”

Hour gaze slowly traveled up to meet familiar brown eyes, a flash of recognition in them before Hotchner stuck his hand out for you. “I told you we’d see each other again, Agent Hotchner.” You tried to get a read of Hotchner’s face, unable to pick up any disappointment but not seeing any real contentment either. For just a second, it was so fast you may have imagined it, a small smile graced Hotchner’s face and you took his hand in your own.

“You were right. Nice to see you again, Agent Y/L/N. Welcome to the team.”

[emilyvioletboswell]

No Mate, No Comrade Lucy Knew: part 1

The Hunger Games is my main special interest and I’ve just started writing again after YEARS of writers block. I’m planning a series of THG fics all taking place in one AU. This one is called No Mate, No Comrade Lucy Knew and it begins right at the end of TBoSaS. Feedback is always welcome! Also posted on Wattpad and fanfic.net 💜

————

Lucy Gray kicked off the wet ground as the bullets sped towards her. As she dove underneath a shelf of rock, a bullet grazed her arm and a small cry escaped her lips. The pain was immediate and sharp like a burn, but she couldn’t risk stopping to look at it. She crawled as far into the small cave-like structure as fast as she could without making noise. She could hear the footsteps coming towards her.

In a frenzy, she began to smear mud all over her clothes and skin, in an attempt to blend into the earth around her. She backed as far into the dark as she could and covered her mouth, not even daring to breathe. She heard him crashing towards her and he stopped less than 10 feet from her. After a few seconds, he called out, “Lucy Gray… Lucy Gray, it’s not too late to work something out.”

Lucy Gray could feel her heart pounding so loud she wondered if he could hear it. Her worries laid to rest as he began walking in the opposite direction of her hiding spot. He now sounded at least 20 feet away as he continued, “Lucy Gray, won’t you talk to me?”

Staying close to the rock wall behind her, she began to crawl out of her shelter. She needed to get far away from him, and more importantly, the gun he aimed to kill her with. As she moved away from Coriolanus, she spotted mockingjays resting on the branches. The birds gave her an idea- one small way to get revenge on the boy who had betrayed her. She began to sing,

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree?

Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me. Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

She continued to sing as she changed her course and tried to blend in with the world around her. As she’d hoped, the mockingjays took up her song, spreading the melody far and wide across the woods. She ran from tree to tree, using them as cover from his eyes and his bullets. Frustrated by her absence, he opened fire. He was shouting now, adding another layer to the chaos.

She continued to use the trees as cover and stayed on high alert. After an hour of ambling through the woods, she came across a small pool. She decided to take a rest and wash off. The shock from the day had prevented her from feeling the bullet wound until she was ridding her arm of mud. While she contemplated what to wrap it with, the high risk of infection dawned on her. She knew mud and raw water both contained bacteria that could bring infection. As afraid as she was to return to the lake, she was more afraid to go on without any supplies. How far she had to travel was a mystery.

While she was familiar with edible plants, she would still need clean water. Matches too. She had made sure to pack everything they would need to get by for at least 3 weeks. Coriolanus and Lucy Gray had set out at around 6:30 in the morning, and she now estimated it to be half past 10. She made her way out of the water and found a log to sit on in the sun. She didn’t mind being in wet clothes, but the late morning sun was so comfortable. She thought she deserved a moment of light in this dark day. It had been one of the worst days of her life, and it wasn’t even noon. She hummed a soft tune and allowed herself to pretend it was a normal day. That Maude Ivory and the Covey were all with her. Maybe even that she had never met Coriolanus Snow.

[su-alteza-emia]

I Don´t miss you at all [C.A.]

Based on this song;

"Cassian Andor/oc" and it's originally in Spanish and i have to translate it to post it😭😭😭, I'm very proud of this one, but i have a bad English grammar so...

Also, please read it:(

Tw: a little allusion to suicide, spoilers of star wars and my bad English.

I hope you guys like it<3

Her mind has completely erased any trace of the man who told her the most romantic words she ever listened in her whole life, the man who own her mind, heart and conscience, the man who was her confident and her purest love in the whole galaxy.

She doesn’t miss him at all.

She no longer remembered his voice. That exquisite accent that listening to it was as if the ears had been blessed, or the voice so beautiful that it seemed like a precious melody every time it sound it.

Besides, she had totally forgotten about his eyes. Those so intense and beautiful brown. Such dark eyes, but they always seemed to shine with their own light. The eyes that seemed to have stars instead of pupils, as if the creator had made them exclusively to be admired.

His smile was totally out of her memory. How he seemed capable of illuminating an entire planet, such a beautiful smile accompanied by eyes shining with happiness, a beautiful and perfect smile that could melt her without the need for fire.

Not to mention his determination, or his sweetness, or his joy. Concepts that she no longer had present. In fact, she had them so buried that she didn't remember how he frowned slightly when he proposed something, or the small smile that appeared on his lips when he did something good, or how his eyes narrowed when he was very happy.

She was totally over it

She was so over it, that she obviously wasn't now drinking the most horrible drink in the galaxy just so she could truly forget about him, at least for a few hours.

She also didn't often go looking for people who looked like him so she could fill the void she still felt for Andor, for Andor and his stupidly beautiful smile, for Cassian and his damn gorgeous eyes, for Kassa and his damned absence.

Andor, Cassian or Kassa was the brightness of her life. Someday she won't miss him anymore, someday she'll really forget him, someday she'll get over it, and hopefully that day never comes, hopefully that day will take decades, centuries, and eons to come, because when it does, she'll end with her life.

After all, what's the point of living when you forget what you're living for?

[littleharpethcrossfit]

Thursday, 14 September, 2023.

Coach's Note:

It is always a good idea to arrive early and do the warmup and all exercises in the sequence scheduled. That is especially true today since this involves a lot of SHOULDER work. Athletes are advised to use weights that they can easily handle for all the reps in unbroken sets. This is not your day for PR's.

Another absolutely perfect afternoon at the Barn.

Warmup

4 Rounds

5 PVC Squat Snatch's

10 PVC Shoulder Dislocates

Strength & Skill

Hang Snatch

Start Very Light And Progress If Quality

3 Reps EMOM For 3 Minutes

2 Reps EMOM For 3 Minutes

1 Rep EMOM For 3 Minutes

Nathan/Robert=115 Herb=95 Dana=85 Coach=75 Tom/Joe=65 Elisa/Kayla/Sue/Linda=55 Shannon=45 Faith (The Kid)=23 Tom/Timmy/Sammy D=did weird stuff Owen/Charrita/Jackie/Holley and several others failed to visit the whiteboard.

WOD

15 X 12 X 9

Hang Power Cleans ( 115 / 85 / 65 )

X 50 Double-Under's ( 100 Singles )

3 MINUTES REST

12 X 9 X 6

Power Cleans ( 135 / 115 / 75 )

X 50 Double-Under's ( 100 Singles )

Elite:

Dana=9:08 Robert=9:57 Timmy=10:57

The Rest:

Faith (The Kid)=8:53 Nathan=9:03 Joe=9:23 Elisa=9:33 Sue=9:45 Kayla=10:52 Herb=11:30 Linda=13:00 Shannon=14:08 Coach=14:45 Charrita/Holley/Jackie/Owen= did it Tom/Sammy D=stuff And others too shy to approach the whiteboard.

Cool-Down:

Wine and snacks around the picnic table. It was a perfect evening.

We had at least 15 assorted bottles of wine brought to the picnic table. A few were left for the next time.

Foods brought were in the extreme category. I always fear having to list them because I cannot remember foods and who brought them without error. But I'll try: Kayla brought a huge casserole of Ziti pasta/ meat, and cheeses. Shannon brought a "To Die For Dessert". There were a few bites left that she took home for Armando. There were fresh peppers and veggies with Hummus, a couple different popcorns, fruits, nuts, home made cookies, Chic Fil A Nuggets galore, and Mr Butler produced bags of Chic fil A pimento chicken sandwiches. There must be stuff that I am missing.

We never had Thursday's quite like these before Alicia returned from Pittsburg and we recruited Kayla from the California Hustler's Gym. Believe it or not, I think the atmosphere is much more sedate and cordial, and the food is hugely improved. At least 2 things are the result of having more GIRLS: better foods and better behavior. But sometimes I miss the drunks trying to leap over the fire-ring, and coming up to the house and falling through a glass table and not realizing I was hemorrhaging to death until Miss Linda unquestioningly served my morning coffee under said table.

Did anyone spot Faith (The Kid) meticulously listing the WOD in chalk on the mat she was using? Did you know that if a parent can't bring her, she rides her bike from home? There is no adult who comes here who has a more serious attitude than The Kid. In 3 years when she is 14 yo we will have a CrossFit Games Teen Champ on our hands. Many thanks to Coach Butler for working with her. I know he loves it.

Holley and Jackie returned after many months un-excused absence. Why do girls always get insulted when the near 80 yo Coach can't remember their names after a 6 months absence? Maybe that's not the fault of my memory.

Saturday at 0730 and 0930. It will be Kayla's 1 Year anniversary and 10 on-line romances since first coming to LHCF. The only appropriate way to celebrate would be to have a crew of male strippers come sing the Happy-Happy Anniversary song. After today, I promise to quit giving Kayla so much free advertisement in this blog.

Also, Rosh Hashanah may interfere with attendance. We cover all the news that's fit to print.

[madame-wilsonn]

At Last

MASTERLIST

Summary: “At last, my love has come along

My lonely days are over

And life is like a song”

A/N: this is in honor of @zablife’s wonderful celebration! Congratulations again, darling! I hope you enjoy this! Also huge thank you to my silly little friend @sunrisepoets for helping me out with this!!! This fic is set in the modern!au (i wrote two other stories in this au which you can find here & here)

I apologize for any mistakes or typos, I’m literally writing this on my phone! I really hope you enjoy this nonetheless 💗

Warnings: Tommy being hopelessly in love with his wife; a lot of books; death of an ice cream

Word count: ≈ 1,800 words

The sun was almost setting when Tommy parked his Bentley in the driveway. It had been an awfully long week, having to fix issues after issues. But he was home.

At last.

Tommy entered the mansion’s hall, slightly disappointed to see Frances grab his suitcase instead of you. She greeted him politely and, sensing the question bubbling in her boss’ chest, added “Mrs. Shelby is in the garden, taking care of the roses.”

After dismissing the maid, Tommy ran outside to find you. He had not seen you all week, leaving early for London on Tuesday. To say he was excited to be back was an understatement. Your absence turned your apartment dull and Tommy’s few hours there cold and lonely. Even trying to busy himself with studying documents didn’t work. To the point where he found himself calling you late at night, talking to you until you fell asleep. But the horrendous week was finally over.

A smile made its way on your husband’s face as soon as you appeared in front of him. You knelt on a small cushion, watering beds of colorful flowers. You hadn’t noticed him yet, the music playing in your ears loud enough even he could hear it. Tommy leaned in and grabbed your shoulders with a mischievous grin.

You jumped, a terrified yelp leaving your lips. Your husband, very proud of his little joke, chuckled at your wide opened eyes, your hand on your chest. He pulled you in, embracing you.

“I hate you, Tommy,” you mumbled against him. “I should get a divorce just for that.”

Nonetheless, you wrapped your arms around him, inhaling his scent.

“I’m so sorry, love but you know I had to,” he was still laughing at your reaction.

“You’re just very lucky I missed you enough to not kick your butt.”

“I missed you, too,” he caressed your hair, kissing your temple. “And I got you something. Close your eyes.”

Tommy reached for the box in his pocket, carefully taking out the piece of jewelry. You couldn’t help the excitement growing in your belly, turning you into a fidgety little mess. You knew your husband was taking his sweet time just to torture you, asking you if your eyes were really closed at least twice. Finally, you felt his fingers grazing your neck, pushing your hair away.

A familiar cold sensation tickled your skin and you were allowed to glance at a gorgeous golden locket. You gently took it in your hand, admiring the delicate engraving.

“Do you like it?” Tommy murmured in your ear. “I passed by that antique store you love and I found this. I thought it would look good on you.”

You turned around, beaming at your darling husband. It was an adorable habit of his: to buy you a gift any time he left for too long. He was aware it didn’t make up for his absence but he enjoyed showing you that, although he was far away, you didn’t leave his thoughts once.

“I love it, thank you,” you kissed his cheek, leaving a stain where your coloured lips had touched him.

“I was thinking, do you have plans tomorrow?” Tommy asked as you tried to erase the red on his skin.

“No, not really. I thought you would want to rest.”

“What about we go to the bookstore and-”

“Yes!” you exclaimed “Yes, let’s go to the bookstore!”

You began rambling about some pretty edition you saw and the newest book of your favorite author coming out. Tommy chuckled at your reaction, bringing you close.

Oh, how he missed you.

Skipping into the bookstore, you inhaled the familiar smell of paper. Tommy almost had to run after you, fearing he might lose you in the large building. Taking you to any kind of place with books was the same thing as taking any of John’s kids in a toy store. There was no other way to describe it. You had a tendency to get a rush of energy, jumping from one section to the other, speaking impossibly fast. All a very lovely scene but slightly hard to follow.

“Oh! There it is!” you almost screamed, grabbing a book with a train on it. You happily showed it to Tommy. He remembered the previous story very clearly. You hadn’t been able to let go of the book and finished it in the middle of the night, staring blankly at the wall for half an hour afterwards. “My goodness, it sounds amazing! But wait…”

Tommy observed you as you turned the book around, opening the last page.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading the last sentence,” you answered very simply.

Your husband shook his head, confused. “But why would you…”

“Shhh!” you placed a finger on his lips, letting out a squeal as you closed the book again.

“What’s going on?” Tommy asked, trying to understand the expression on your face.

“The…Okay, do you remember those books with the Norwegian detective?”

He nodded as you went on, explaining how the detective from the previous series somehow appeared in this new one. He couldn’t grasp why this information was enough to make your hands shake but you seemed very excited to find out more. You handed the book to Tommy before running away to another section.

Another squeal alerted your husband as you pointed towards a gorgeous cover.

“Look! It’s the collection I told you about!” you showed him a new edition of Emma. Even he had to agree it was splendid.

Tommy was pretty sure you already had those books at home but it didn’t matter. Not when this “new collection” turned you into a cheerful, giggly mess.

He took the heavy pile and found a small bench near you. He watched you, the way you seemed so focused to find the one. Every time, you would come back and add a new book to the growing stack. Tommy had one job: check the book off the list you made —which he gladly did.

“Alright, what’s this one…The Bell jar,” he read over the titles, until pinpointing the right one. “Done.”

“Thank you,” you whispered in a sunny tone, warming Tommy’s heart. “...Can I get one more? The last one, I promise!” Your husband nodded even though you had chosen “the last one” about five books ago. You squealed, leaving a light kiss on his cheek and you disappeared again, making him chuckle.

You stayed in the bookstore for about an hour, running back and forth between each section. Every single time, you would swear you were done.

Until you discovered a new little treasure you couldn’t resist.

Tommy pretended he needed to think about it before giving in, just to make the chase a bit funnier. And also because you would kiss him as soon as he said yes—which was an opportunity he couldn’t miss.

“Okay, that’s it! I am done!” Tommy raised an eyebrow at you. “For real this time, I have everything.”

“Well you did take everything. We walked into a bookstore and we’re going to leave empty Ikea shelves!”

You pursed your lips, trying to resist the grin stretching your lips.

“That’s very funny, Mr. Shelby. You should probably consider a career in a circus with that much humor!”

Tommy laughed sarcastically, grabbing the stack of books in his arms. You realized just how much you had actually taken with you when your husband’s face disappeared behind The Great Gatsby and Musso’s new novel.

“You know what? Maybe I did go too far…I should just take some of those and I’ll buy the rest later,” you mumbled, internally cursing your extravagance.

Tommy put the books on a table nearby and took your hand.

“You could have bought the entire bookstore— literally and I would still carry all those books for you, yeah?” he kissed your forehead tenderly. “Now come on, I’m buying us some ice cream. All this book hunting starved me ”

Your eyes gleamed with that precious, childish spark and Tommy knew he was as earnest as ever. He would buy you the entire universe if it meant making you smile as a reward. Any struggle seemed ludicrous next to your radiant, beaming face.

With a delicious cone of cookie dough and brownie ice cream in hand, you strolled through the busy streets. Tommy walked beside you, one arm around your shoulder while the other held his ice cream cone. He was wearing a simple black tee-shirt with some jeans and his signature raybans on his eyes.

It was almost funny how different he looked when he was not working. His cheeks were slightly flushed with the heat, his freckles more obvious because of the sun. Even though you found your husband handsome all the time, you had to admit having a slight preference for “laid back Tommy”.

Completely lost in your thoughts, you missed the small hole in the pavement and tripped. Tommy’s arm tightened on you, saving you in extremis from a terrible fall.

Your ice cream was not as lucky.

A desolated sigh escaped your lips as you realized your fresh, sweet treat was now melting on the concrete.

Before you could think about mourning for your poor ice-cream, Tommy stepped in front of you.

“Here, take mine.”

You considered his proposal for a second but turned it down. It wasn’t his fault you weren’t attentive enough.

But of course, your very stubborn husband insisted. He managed to negotiate one bite each with a very serious “come on, we’re married! For richer, for poorer, remember?”

Which you had countered rather easily: “I don’t think it applies to ice cream, Tom.”

“Of course it does! And you don’t want to hurt my feelings by not tasting this delicious ice cream, do you?”

So you kept walking, sharing the tiny pink spoon. He carefully listened to your extremely passionate speech about your detective’s character development along the books. It made him wonder how many hours you actually spent thinking about this, managing to quote psychology researches and articles.

It was almost marvelous. The contrast between your serious words and you, happily munching on the ice cream cone.

After each bite, you cut a piece and fed it to Tommy. The same way you would do with a small bird you found in the park.

Concluding on your rant, you handed the last of the cone but your husband refused.

“Oh no, it’s fine. Just take it.”

“Thanks,” you grumbled, your mouth half full.

“Was it good at least?”

You nodded frantically. “It was so good! Thank you for sharing your ice cream with me, darling,” you rested your hand against his shoulder, squeezing his waist.

“Anytime,” he hummed, his voice getting lost in your hair.

It was all worth it.

[julieverne]

"How am I supposed to survive without my best friend."

It echoed through her brain, like a song she couldn't evict.

She'd pushed Jane to be with Casey, but she'd never thought he'd be stupid enough to propose. Never thought Jane would be stupid enough to accept - which she hadn't yet, not yet, but she was wearing the ring, and she was giddy. Maura dropped her scalpel and walked over to the sink, expelling more stomach contents, even though she'd already done so twice.

"You should go home, Doctor Isles," Susie said, looking concerned. She knew how observant Susie was, knew Susie had to know what had brought on this sudden and unfortunate nausea. Between Jane and Frost, it had been an awful, awful day. Maura nodded and made a call, to have someone come in to HQ to take over from her. She stayed until she could do an adequate handover. She pulled over twice on the way home, heaving and sweating. Maybe she was coming down with something? There had to be a physical reason for this response.

But her temperature was normal, so she took a nice, warm shower, took some medication and took herself to bed.

---

When she woke up, Jane was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hand on Maura's forehead. It was still light outside, and Maura was disoriented.

"You don't have a fever, but Chang said you were throwing up. I got you this." Jane helped Maura to sit up, handed her some kind of green concoction in a takeaway cup. Maura sipped it. It was juice, heavy on the vegetables and would help her regain some of the nutrients she'd lost earlier, as well as hydrate her. She sipped again and looked around. It was only past lunchtime, yet Jane was here. "You need me to stay?" Jane asked, one of her hands rubbing absently over Maura's back. Maura could feel the metal of the ring touching her, and she retched again. Jane grabbed a wastepaper basket and held it as Maura threw up green into it, holding Maura's hair out of the way.

"I'm calling out," Jane said, once Maura had finished, pulling out her phone. Maura nodded weakly, lying back down, too worn out to go and brush her teeth again even though she knew she should - the enamel - but she was asleep in moments.

She woke briefly a few times, each time feeling the hand with the ring rubbing her back. Each time retching with nothing left to discard. Each time hearing Jane's voice say sweet nothings to her.

She woke properly in the evening. Her mouth felt like someone else had thrown up in it, and she tried to get to her shaky feet to go brush her teeth. Jane appeared from somewhere and helped her to the bathroom, loading the toothbrush for her, watching anxiously as Maura gagged again.

"I made you some soup," Jane said, when Maura was done, and she could smell it, even from here. It made her stomach turn again, and Jane looked disappointed. "You're dehydrated," Jane noted, looking at Maura's dry lips. "You have to have something." Maura shook her head and pushed Jane out of the room so she could use it in privacy. When she came out, Jane was holding Tylenol and a glass of water, and Maura took both thankfully, grateful also for Jane's arm slipping around her waist to help her back to the bed.

"Frost feels bad for yelling at you," Jane said. "He's been checking in every hour. Korsak too, and Chang." Maura settled under the sheets, and this time there was no ring on Jane's hand when it rubbed her back.

"Maybe I could... try the soup?" Maura suggested, and Jane jumped to her feet and scurried away. Maura checked her phone and sat up, feeling her stomach complain, tense and empty. She messaged Susie back, and Frost and Korsak. The same message for all three.

There were seventeen missed calls from Jane, and a number of increasingly distressed messages. Her absence had been noted - but then, she'd never walked away from an open case before, one that didn't involve the Doyle's at least.

Jane came bustling in with a tray, soup and toast carefully balanced, placing it over Maura's lap. She felt Maura's forehead again, sitting next to her.

"I watered it down and blended it up, so it shouldn't hurt if you can't keep it down." Jane looked worried still, her deep brown eyes creased at the edges, her smile a little too tight. Maura sipped at it; really, soup in bed was an unbelievably bad idea, but she managed to keep it down.

"Stomach bug?" Jane asked when she took the tray. Maura shrugged and lay down again, exhausted. She felt the bed shift, felt Jane nervously join her a few minutes later.

"I'm right here if you need anything," Jane said. "Stay on your side, in case you vomit again."

"You're not worried about me throwing up on you?" Maura asked, rolling over to face Jane, catching her face for an instant before she snapped the bedside lamp off. Jane's face was stricken and tender, and Maura didn't know what to do with that.

"I've had worse," Jane said, and rolled to face Maura, letting her hand stroke Maura's back again. "I can't marry him, can I?" Jane asked, and she couldn't be oblivious to the way Maura tensed at the question but her hand didn't pause at all. "He just likes the idea of me. He doesn't see the long hours, the long nights. And if I married him, I wouldn't have..." Jane trailed off, and the stroking of Maura's back became even softer, even gentler, more of a caress. "I wouldn't have this," Jane said quietly.

"You could go with him. You could have children," Maura whispered, feeling the bile rise in her again. Why couldn't she just be happy for her best friend?

"I can't leave Boston. Everyone I love is here."

"Except Casey."

"He's not..." Jane sighed. "When you said what you said earlier, about surviving without me, you absolutely would. You're not the same person I met. You have Ma, and my brothers, and my team, and Susie. You have Hope and Cailin and Constance. I'm just one person."

"You're more," Maura insisted.

"And you're just one person, and Casey is just one person, but I wouldn't trade you for a thousand Casey's. Not a million." Jane's hand gripped Maura's shoulder blade, fierce and possessive. In the morning, Maura might not remember exactly what was said, but she'd remember how it felt. "And that's what he was asking. I like Casey. I think I love him. But you..." Maura was drifting back to sleep, but she could have sworn she felt Jane's lips press against her temple as she did. "You're the only person I need."

[wheredafandomat]

I will love her, from the grave

Loki x female reader - contains smut

Italics = Flashback

Days bled into weeks and weeks to years. The slow agonising torture that was the consequences of Loki’s actions haunted him in the form of you. A constant reminder of who he had loved, left, who could possibly still be waiting for him. He had hoped that you’d move on and find someone else in his absence yet he cursed the thought of it. You were his, forever his but his actions proved he wasn’t yours. In the solitary confinement that was the dungeons of Asgard, Loki found comfort in the thought of you. The memories. They kept him from going insane from the lack of social interaction, light that wasn’t artificial and the absence of visual stimulation. The protracted days left him anxious, irritable and depressed but nothing compared to the havoc the nights caused.

Nights in the dungeons were torment. The insomnia had left Loki conjuring apparitions of you. They’d provide a few moments of comfort. A few moments where he could pretend he was having a conversation with someone other than himself. A few moments were he wasn’t abandoned, left alone. A few moments where he could talk to you. In these moments of madness and hysteria, Loki would find himself often smiling at the beauty he had constructed. He’d sit up slightly more and fix his hair during these manic episodes and then the realisation would hit him just as he’s about to touch you, feeling nothing but the never ending emptiness that would continue to devour him the following day.

Loki regretted it all. Every single decision that had brought him here and away from you. The final words you spoke to him reverberated through his head and he’d remember little details about your romance. The first day he had met you, he instantly felt a spark. There was some sort of connection between you both that was unparalleled to anybody else.

“Are you a princess?” He asked, scrutinising your choice of clothes as you laid in the mud, looking up at him after falling from your horse. You were wearing the finest silks and flowers in your hair, there was no denying your royal status but the fact that you were also covered in mud was confusing to say the least.

“Yes, shh, don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me.” You replied, taking the hand that he had offered and pulling yourself up “thanks.”

“What are you doing out here?” He questioned, gesturing to your surroundings.

“Me and my mother have come from Vanaheim to visit the queen, royal stuff” you dismissed.

“Queen Frigga, she is my mother.” Loki said with a nod.

“So you’re a prince. Good to know. Don’t tell my mother I’m here. See you later.” You winked.

“Wait, what’s your name?”

“I’m y/n, you?”

“Loki.”

“Later Loki.”

He watched you as you plodded off, not a care in the world. The way you spoke and carried yourself wasn’t like him, you seemed freer. Once you were out of sight, he made his way back to the palace where he saw your mother, Thor and Frigga. Behind her, was a beautiful young woman who once she came into focus, he realised it was you, now free of mud.

“How did yo—” he began, pointing at you.

“Shh” you interrupted.

“Dinner is being served.” Frigga spoke.

Loki presented his arm to you at the same time Thor did. He knew you were going to take Thors, everyone always did so when he saw you tug your mother’s dress as if to get her attention, he was surprised.

“Mother, can I walk with the gangly one?” You asked causing Loki to almost drop his arm. He didn’t and you took it before you all walked towards the dining room.

Seeing other prisoners being brought into the dungeons, Loki used most of his remaining energy to conjure an illusion over himself to make him look less like an inmate and more like a prince. He paced the cell, hands clasped behind his back as he glared at the guards escorting the new prisoner. To his surprise, he found himself humming to an unfamiliar song until he remembered you.

You had frequented Asgard a lot since your first visit. You and Loki had grown a lot closer as friends and found yourselves almost inseparable. When it came the day of the dance, Loki knew you were coming to him with bad news. You had been unfocused all day. Distant. He lead you to the middle of the room before placing one hand on your waist whilst the other held your hand which was outstretched to the side of you whilst your other hand rested on his shoulder. You both danced but he could tell your mind was elsewhere.

“What troubles you?” He asked.

“I think I am to marry.” You admitted.

“My brother I presume.” Loki replied, clenching his jaw.

“Yes” you said barley above a whisper.

After a few moments of what seemed like quiet plotting, Loki spoke again.

“Then let’s steal tonight.”

The both of you left the party and headed towards the highest balcony in the palace as you watched the sun set over Asgard. A plethora of colours burned through the sky, illuminating your faces as you both stared up at the show in awe.

“I brought something from when I last went to Midgard.” You said, turning to face Loki and pulling out what looked like a phone from a hidden pocket on your dress. “It plays the most beautiful of sounds.” You smiled, playing a song before putting the phone down and grabbing Loki’s hands, putting them both to your waist.

“What is the song about?” Loki asked whilst you both swayed.

“I think it’s about love.” You simpered, looking up at Loki. Your gaze dropped to his lips before you quickly looked back up at him, something that didn’t go unnoticed. Pausing his movements, Loki began leaning down to kiss you. Instinctively, you closed your eyes along with the gap between you both, feeling nothing but the relief that follows finally admitting your feelings.

“I can’t marry Thor.” You spoke against his lips.

“I know” he responded before kissing you again.

An irational anger boiled up inside Loki at his remembrance of that night, the song. That song became your song. He remembered hearing it in Midgard, it was playing at that party in Germany. He wished that he was strong enough to fight whatever possession had taken over him. For a brief moment in Germany, he felt free at hearing the song but it faded quickly.

Once the guards had left, there was no need to carry on the facade. Loki let it fall as he sat on the hard ground of the cell he now knew as home. That’s when he thought back to the morning after that night.

You had both spent the night sleeping on the balcony. It didn’t get cold and even if it did, you didn’t notice as Loki ensured you were well covered. The next morning, you and Loki awoke knowing that you had to tell Thor the truth and eventually the rest of the royals involved in this feat.

The both of you headed to Heimdall to ask of Thors whereabouts after searching the palace to no avail. Once you arrived, you could hear a faint conversation going on between Thor and Heimdall. It seemed as if Thor was speaking of another woman, asking how she was. Stepping out of the shadows, you confronted him.

“Go to her Thor.”

“Y/N, that wasn’t—”

“Go to her” you repeated as you stepped towards him, placing your hand on his cheek “we love each other but not the way lovers do. This woman you speak of, you love her in a way you will never love me and me—I-I love Loki.” You avered as Loki stepped forward and took your free hand.

“We are in love brother” Loki agreed.

“I am happy for you.” Thor smiled, gripping Loki’s shoulder.

That was the best day of Loki’s life however the night was even more delightful.

Spent, you laid bare across Loki’s bed with your eyes tightly shut as your head fell deeper into the pillow underneath it. Your hands were laced in Loki’s hair whilst he licked lazy circles over your clit. Your hips bucked upwards as you felt another orgasm consuming you.

“Right there.” You whimpered, biting your lip as another climax tore through you.

Lapping up your excretions, Loki felt almost smug knowing that he had already made you peak four times tonight. Allowing you to come down from your frenzy, he looked up at you, licking his lips before he made his way up to kiss you. You felt his erection nudging into your thigh whilst you kissed him, relishing in the taste of yourself against him.

“Are you sure you have another one in you?” Loki questioned coyly feeling you grinding against him.

“Why don’t you find out?” You teased, widening your legs and prompting Loki to enter you. Wasting no time, he lined himself up with your entrance before thrusting inside of your already slick heat.

“Oh fuck” he grunted, delving into you.

“Yesss Loki deeper” you moaned, digging your nails into his back as he entered you fully causing you to gasp as you bit his shoulder. He began moving in and out of you at a steady pace whilst you moaned his name. The sound of your skin against his along with your panting echoed around the large room.

“I will love you forever” he proclaimed, looking down at you hungrily as he swivelled his hips causing you to cry out in ecstasy.

“I love you Loki.” You opined.

You both continued your declarations of love whilst Loki pounded you. You felt yourself nearing the edge whilst Loki’s thrusts became more desperate.

“Cum, cum with me.” He commanded, prompting you to loose control as he ejaculated inside of you.

Eyeing his desolate surroundings, Loki wished he had been true to his word. His promise. He wished he had held you in his arms longer, perhaps then the hurt from his parents deceit wouldn’t have stung so bad. He would have had you to comfort him instead of allowing himself to succumb to the rage. He would have had you now, perhaps with children, a family, a family Loki could call his own. Maybe a daughter. He’d call her Seven. He thought about the fact that he might even have had a little house that the three of you would live in. Love in. Be happy in. But alas, he had abandoned those hopes the day he walked out and left for Midgard.

“Please Loki, please don’t do this. I love you.” You pleaded frantically to the dazed looking god in front of you. A stranger compared to the Loki you had known and loved.

“I am to be king y/n, everything I’ve ever wanted in the palm of my hand and you want me to refuse it? For you?” He scoffed, shoving you out of the way and onto the floor.

“Your ambition will be the death of you” you spat, looking up at him “if you go, you’ll lose me Loki.”

“A loss indeed, but not my greatest.” He replied dismissively, stepping past you.

“Loki?” You stuttered, grabbing his leg.

“Leave if you’re leaving.”

Standing up, you looked into his faraway eyes not recognising your Loki. He was gone. Corrupted. You had lost him.

“Goodbye Loki, my love.” You sobbed before turning around and leaving.

He watched you. Just like the first time he had met you. The muddy princess who somehow had managed to make it back to the palace completely clean before he did. The same way he always watched you. Nothing but love in his eyes. Part of him wanted to chase you, grab you, never let you go but a larger part desired a throne. Something villainous did have its clutches in him and he regrets that he wasn’t strong enough to overpower it.

The commotion brought Loki back to reality as he saw the uproar in the dungeons. He spotted someone approaching him and so he did the same and approached it with a glare. The thing looked Loki over before Loki spoke knowing what it was here for.

“Take the stairs to the left.” Loki prompted.

The next day, after another unpleasant night, Loki received a visitor. Standing up, he spoke to the guard who informed him of your passing at the hands of the attackers he had helped the day before. Loki was told that you had died protecting the queen.