#that's all to say i just watched challengers

[starboye]

starring: loser!simon "ghost" riley x male reader

request: loser simon somehow getting to have a sexy night with you

warnings: smut, loser!simon, big dick!simon, pain kink if you squint, cursing, mentions of drinking

to be truthful Simon doesn't even know how he got such a pretty thing like you in his bed, I mean he had just got off a mission and went to a bar to take the edge off with the team, seeing you from across the room and gaining a small crush on you, wanting to just maybe take you home tonight.

the boys doubted him, saying he couldn't possibly get you in his bed tonight so he took on that challenge, walking over to you and sitting at the bar and somehow striking up a conversation, you were slightly drunk which meant you were calmer than usual and didn't tense up when the man talked to you.

"so you come here often" you sipped on your drink, looking at Simon nervously tap his glass of beer "yea- well I mean no... I guess sometimes" he stammered while a shade of red ran through his cheeks, you took pity on the man right off the bat I mean he couldn't even talk to you without stuttering and the team knew they were gonna win this bet easy money.

"well in all seriousness I bet my friends over there that I could take you home by the end of the night" he admitted dropping his head and bow you were really feeling bad for Simon, so to drunk to even think you placed a hand on Simon's thigh and slowly caressed it "if you win this bet can i get some of the money" you chuckle and Simon was shocked to say the least.

cock hardening in his jeans as you inched closer to his crotch "y-yeah sure" he agreed and in a matter of seconds your lips crashed against Simon's, you intended to win this bet for him just for the fun of it, the boys had to pick their jaws up off the floor after they saw Simon swapping spit with you and soon getting dragged out the bar with you leading.

and you quickly made it to your apartment, struggling to open the door because of your drunk state which really bothered Simon, I mean he has a hot guy right in front of him who he basically made out with and bow has a achingly hard dick in his pants and he begging that you get the key, taking a sigh of relief when you open the door and drag him in.

"shoes off at the door please" you say kicking off your shoes and scurrying to your room, Simon following close behind just to find you laying on your bed slowly peeling off your clothes urging him to come closer, it was like his feet moved on their own, carrying him over to you as you became fully naked now "want me to help you take this off" you ask playing with the hem of his shirt, all he could do was nod eagerly at you question.

you swiftly began taking off his shirt, admiring his scars as you went on to take off his pants and underwear watching his thick cock fall out, you held back a whimper at just the sight of it "most people I've tried to have sex with say it's to big" he says scratching the back of his head awkwardly "the bigger the better" you chuckle falling back to lay on the bed and spreading your legs wide for him and he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to ruin you right now.

you use some spit as lube and watch as he timidly approaches you and presses his tip against your hole before easily slipping inside, it's like you were made for him and him only it maybe that was his eagerness to fuck someone talking, he slowly thrusted into you trying not to injure you, but for you it was agonizingly slow "not to be a dick or anything but you can go harder right" you question propping yourself up and you elbows to look at him.

although this wasn't his first time it sure as hell looked like it "yeah totally" he held back a groan now wrapping his large hands around your thighs to press them against your chest to fuck you deeper, his thrust now a little harder earning some light moans out of you, he wasn't lying when he said he was big, he was gaping you deep slightly grazing your g-spit with every thrust now turning you on even more.

with the harder thrusting came louder moans and louder moans came harder thrusts bringing a never ending cycle of Simon fucking you harder just to listen to you pretty noises, he was holding back from letting out his noises, not wanting to be too loud for your neighbors to hear "you can let it out big guy" you urge feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts became for of pounding your hole till he flooded your hole but he wanted to hold back for the sake of making this memorable and not a reoccurring nightmare of he came so early in the one guy he finally got a chance with.

with your urging he let out deep groans with each plap heard through the room "fuck can I cum in you" he breathlessly asks eager to get off with a hole wrapped around him "yes please" you moan moving your hands to grip his back desperately scratching at his already injured skin making his groans turn into more of moan (talk about a pain kink am I right) and it may have hurt but he loved every second of it, fucking you harder with the hope that you'd dig your nails into his back harder and you did, clawing at his back like a wild animal.

there's no hiding both of you were in the verge of cumming and it was sooner more than later, Simon whispering sweet nothing's just to get you harder and clenching around him and you to incoherent to even remember what he's saying only hoping that he floods your tummy with his cum "please please I want your cum so badly" you whimper holding him tightly as you feel your climax creeping up at a quick pace and Simon only responded in deep grunts and harder poundings.

he let out a long drawn out growl as he spilled his load in you, you letting out a high pitched moan as you cum all over yourself "thank... you so much" you whimper letting go of him but he never let go of you, holding you tightly while still shallowly thrusting into you riding out his high for as long as possible "another round" he begs under his breath hiding his face into the nook of your neck "yes please" you pant finally coming back to your senses, it was surely gonna be a kind night.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318. @itsares @gargoylesworld09 @kadenvatsune @fuckshft

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Heart sweater | B.B

Your daughter got a present for his daddy and Bucky isn’t afraid to show everyone what his little girl got for him.

Pairing: Mob!Dad!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Mom!Wife!Reader

Wordcount: 2.033 Words

Warnings: none, just lots of fluff

Authors Note: I couldn’t help myself. This sweater is just so adorable and imagine Bucky’s little girl getting it for him. So yes, soft spot, feeling soft right now. Hope you enjoy!

Events: Winds of autumn challenge | Candy corn 🍬 a sweet surprise, Balance ⚖️ as the equinox approaches, the day and night balance out. Write about finding peace | @the-slumberparty

Seasonal Delights Bingo: fall vibes | Row One-One | soft kisses | @seasonaldelightsbingo | Fairytale Bingo | Row One-Three | Goddess of marriage | @fairytalebingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Daddyyyy! We gots you a present!" A childish voice echoes through the hallway of the building. Your and your little — big — families home. Others may say that you, Bucky, and your daughter are family, but there are so many more; they aren’t from the same blood but with the same big hearts.

Bucky’s men, who not only needed to earn his trust but also needed to earn their place in the family, are more than just his men. They are Bucky’s friends, your friends, and your daughter's uncles. None of them would let anything happen to you or the little girl — not just because Bucky told them to take care, but because you’re a family.

Your little daughter runs further through the hallway until she finally reaches her dad's office door. The second floor of the building is just an office — for Bucky and his men. And since he had an important meeting, he suggested that you could go out with her to get some new toys and clothes.

Of course, your little baby girl didn’t go to the toy store first. She loves it, but you’re shopping? She has to get a present for her daddy. She kind of gives herself a treat after finding the perfect present for Bucky — and then she uses all the money she can to get a lot of toys and stuff for herself.

You watch the toddler with amused eyes whenever you’re shopping without Bucky. Mostly Steve comes with you, keeping the two of you safe and just giving you a helping hand so you don’t have to carry all of these bags yourself.

“Sweetheart,” you chuckle while she already jumps to reach the handle and almost falls into her dad's office. You laugh softly, shaking your head — she is just as stubborn as her daddy when it comes to letting someone help or listen once they get excited.

Bucky’s head shoots up the moment the door swings open. He smiles at his little girl, then his eyes wander further toward you. The ocean blue orbs glistening when his lips curl up into a soft smile — one he reserves only for you and your little girl.

“Take care, my sweet little plum. Don’t want ya to get hurt, do we?” He asks, his voice soft but still a bit firm, so the little girl will listen to him. Her eyes — which are just as blue as Bucky’s — roam over her daddy’s body, from his legs up to his face, before she smirks with the widest grin ever.

“We gots you something’, daddy!” She says, excitedly. Bucky crouches down, resting his arms on his knees while he waits for his little girl to continue talking. “Mommy! Daddy waits fo’ you!”

You chuckle, looking for the bag in your hand she wants to have before placing all the others down and handing her the one she put her daddy’s present into. Bucky’s eyes move toward you; without any words, he makes sure you’re okay and that you can be without a kiss for a few more minutes while he focuses on his baby girl.

Once he’s sure you’re fine — after you settle down on the couch in his office and sigh softly — he mouths, ‘I love you, my pretty girl’ to you. And oh damn, you know why you fell in love with that man. He may be a big, feared mafia boss, but around you he is the sweetest, most loving, caring, and perfect husband — and father for your daughter — you could have wished for.

Bucky may be mad because of work sometimes; he may be annoyed, but he never lets it out on you. He would rather punch himself than make you feel like he doesn’t appreciate you or that you’re a burden for him. For your husband, you’re the most precious woman, and he will do everything to keep you safe and loved. He does the same for your little girl.

Luckily, Bucky discovered immediately that whenever he's mad, he just needs you, and everything is perfect. Preferably when he can keep you on his lap. His arms are tightly wrapped around your waist and pull you as close as possible while he presses his face into your chest. You will run your fingers through his hair, and he knows he’s safe — no reason for anger or annoyance, just love and affection, so he calms down without needing anything but you.

“So what do you have for me, my little plum?” Bucky asks, looking with amusement and curiosity at the little girl in front of him. She giggles, her tiny hands grasping his cheeks, and she runs her small fingers over his stubbles.

“Sc’atchy,” she mumbles and squeezes his cheeks together. Bucky lets out a low chuckle, letting her play with his scratchy stubbles. He knows how much his sweet little girl likes his stubbles; she is just like her mommy loving his metal arm and his stubbles — even though you have other intentions when it comes to his metal arm or his stubbles. But those are secrets that stay in the bedroom.

“Sweetheart, you wanted to show Daddy what you got for him,” you remind her when you notice that she got lost in her little game to play with her daddies cheek. But she was so excited to get him his present, plus you know that Bucky’s curious as well.

She removes her small hands and grasps the paper bag again, opening it before hiding her face almost inside of it. You would never leave her with a bag without anyone else around her, but as long as you and Bucky are there, you don’t feel scared if she puts her head slightly into it to tease her daddy a bit.

“Yeah, my little plum. What do you got Daddy, huh?” He asks, bringing his big hands to her small sides to poke his fingers into her soft flesh. The little girl laughs, throwing her head back while she wiggles in his grip.

She pulls her tiny hands out of the bag and holds a big, white sweater with hearts on it in front of her. Her smile grows and her eyes sparkle as she shows it to Bucky. And the big, most feared mafia boss has the sweetest expression on his face.

His eyes shine, and it looks like the sun is brightening them. His smile reaches almost his ears as he stares at the fabric in his daughter's hands. Bucky’s eyes wander to you for a second, then back to his little girl.

“Thank you, my little plum,” he coos, taking the sweater out of her hands to admire it a moment longer. Your daughter watches Bucky intensely — the same intense stare Bucky has if he wants to find out how you think about something. “You want me to take it on right now?”

She nods, letting herself fall backward into her butt while she holds his gaze. He nods, smirking softly. Bucky leans forward, his big hand placed at the back of her head, and he brings her closer to press his plump lips against her forehead.

“Then I will do that,” he says, getting up from the stop he was kneeling. His eyes land on you, and before he leaves the room to change into the new sweater, he makes his way over to you.

He towers over you, both of his hands finding their way to your thighs, and he leans closer. His lips almost brush yours when he grins at you. “She chose the sweater all by herself, but you allowed her to buy it, didn’t you?”

You shiver under his intense stare and his rough voice. “S-she’s just really convincing. I know you said you don’t want presents, but I guess— I guess she got that from you,” you giggle and Lena closer to chase his lips for a soft kiss. Bucky chuckles, kissing you once again before he pushes himself up and makes his way out of the room to change into the sweater you and your daughter got him.

Your daughter gets one of her new toys out of the bag and shows it to you. It’s not like you don’t know what she bought, but she loves to show you and explain everything about it anyway.

“Mommy, wants book or wants dolly?” She asks, lifting her small arms and holding both up to let you decide which of these she should show and explain to you.

“Do you want me to tell you more about the book you got?” You ask. She nods and puts the doll down, walking with the book in her hands toward you. The little girl places the book on the couch next to you, her small fingers digging into your thighs, and she tries to push herself up onto the couch. “Do you want me to help you, sweetheart?”

“Nuuu, ‘m big girl!” She nods, underlining her words. You chuckle; let her climb up without help. Your hand is still behind her back just in case she falls backwards, but she doesn’t.

Once she is on top and next to you, she wiggles a bit and takes the book, placing it in your lap. She just wants to explain why she got the book, who’s on the cover, and what she knows about her favorite series — the book is about it — when Bucky walks back into the room.

Her eyes widen, and she giggles as she sees her big daddy in this pretty sweater she got him. You smile softly at him, reaching your hands out for him to come closer. “You’re pretty, Bucky,” you say and run your fingers over the back of his flash hand, then over the fabric of the sweater.

“Didn’t know I would look that good in that sweater,” he jokes. Stroking one of his hands over the fabric. And he really does look adorable with his middle long hair, his broad chest, and his big arms — the feared mafia boss — wearing a sweater with a lot of hearts on it because his sweet little plum got it just for him. “So, my little plum, what do you think?”

Bucky gets down on his knees in front of the couch, looking at the little girl. Her ocean blue eyes roam over him a little longer before she giggles. “Looks pwetty, daddy! Now we can go back to work!”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I thought I could take out my girls for dinner.” Bucky tilts his head. His fleshy hand holds yours tightly while he watches the little girl, considering if she wants to work or prefers to have dinner with the two of you.

“Do we gets my favorite food?” She asks, taking her book and making grabby hands, waiting for Bucky to pick her up. He nods, wrapping his arms around her to lift her onto his waist before he holds a hand out for you to grasp and let him pull you up.

Bucky doesn’t care that people could look weird at him for wearing a sweater with hearts on it. His sweet girl got it for him, and he knows that no one will disrespect him — not even when he looks like a sweet puppy with an adorable sweater.

“You know, babydoll,” Bucky says, looking at you as he wraps his free hand around your waist to pull you into his side. His nose brushes over your cheek until his lips press against your temple. “Thank you for letting out sweet plum to buy me such a pretty sweater. Now I’m wearing your necklace, our wedding band, and my little girl's sweater. I love you, my babydoll, pretty momma.”

Bucky’s voice is low, and he smirks against your skin as you shiver. You knew he would love the sweater — he loves everything you or your daughter get him. “I love you too, Buck,” you mumble before you make your way to the restaurant — letting Bucky show his sweater around to let everyone see how proud he is to have his family, how much he loves you and his little plum, and how much he appreciates you and your love.

Taglist -> @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @somnorvos @meowmeowyoongles @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @loki-laufeyson68 @winterschildren8 @bxtchboy69 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @im-alestan @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @sasha-writing @blackhawkfanatic @fanfictionreaderfan @multiversefanfics @angelbabyyy99 @looking1016 @aphrodite-xoxo @fanfictionreaderfan @iris-xoxo-juhu @holylulusworld @bucks-babe @whatever-lmaoo @thevillainswhore

[jetii]

Hello! I was wondering if I could 36 NSFW with Tech x fem!reader? Maybe where he said that nobody really gave him a challenge at the game, and readers ego is too high to back down from that offer even though she loses horribly. Established relationship perhaps? Also, I love your writing it’s amazing! You deserve all the love and followers

Hiii I'm so happy you requested this!!! I've been addicted to playing Kessel Sabacc in SW Outlaws for the past few weeks, and I was just waiting for the opportunity to work my knowledge into a fic. Literally wrote this as soon as I saw it in my inbox.

I consider this reader the same as the one from On Impulse if anyone cares!

Strategy

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 5,069

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, smut, established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, light dom Tech, rough (but affectionate) sex

Prompt: 36. “I don’t know why you’re complaining, you’re the one that wanted to play strip Sabacc.”

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"Pure sabacc," you announce, throwing down your cards and leaning back in your chair. A relieved grin spreads across your face at Tech's expression. His mouth is a thin line and his eyes are squinted, but there's an exasperated glint in them.

"Yes, I know," he grumbles, dropping his own cards on the table. Tech isn't a sore loser, but he is a competitive one. And the fact that this is the second hand you've won in a row is definitely irking him.

You snatch up his discarded cards and start to shuffle. "What was that about me never winning a round?"

"It is an anomaly," Tech states emotionlessly.

"And you've done the calculations to prove it, haven't you?"

He doesn't answer.

"Well, maybe I'm just lucky tonight." You cross your arms, reveling in his annoyance. "You know, I was beginning to think you were cheating with all the times you've been winning."

Tech rolls his eyes, but you can tell he's fighting off a smirk.

"I wouldn't cheat. Besides, I don't need to. My superior memory allows me to calculate the chances of each outcome with ease, making me naturally skilled at the game. Whereas you," he continues, leaning across the table and resting his elbows on it, "must rely on luck, because your memory is abysmal. It's no surprise you've been losing so often."

"Hey!" you protest, tossing a card at him. It flutters through the air, but he catches it before it hits his goggles.

Tech leans forward, the card trapped between his index and middle finger. "I am merely pointing out the facts, darling."

You snatch the card from him and return it to the deck, refusing to meet his smug gaze. He's trying to distract you, and he knows it's working.

"You can't always rely on the facts," you say, dealing the cards out once again.

"I don't. I also use strategy. Which you should try, seeing as it would certainly help you win."

"Strategy?"

"Yes, like—"

"Like how you're trying to distract me by insulting my memory?"

Tech huffs a breathy laugh and tilts his chin down. "Is it working?"

"Absolutely not." You glance down at your cards, trying your best not to smirk at your hand. Another sylop. The deck is stacked in your favor this round, and you have a perfect chance of beating Tech.

"What do you say we make this more interesting?" you propose, watching Tech's head tilt in curiosity.

He places a chip down and draws a card before his eyes dart back to yours. "I'm listening."

"Strip sabacc."

Tech's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and he almost drops the cards he's holding. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me," you tease, setting your cards down. "Whoever loses a round has to remove an item of clothing. If you lose all your clothes before I do, I win. If I lose mine first, you win. Deal?"

He takes a moment to contemplate the suggestion, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, and his eyes narrow, calculating the possibilities. When his lips curve into a smirk, you know he's made up his mind.

"Deal," he agrees, nodding once and adjusting his goggles. He lays down his cards face up—pair of ones. You frown at your own hand and drop them onto the table.

"Oh, come on! Again?"

Tech chuckles, leaning back in his seat. "I believe you're the one who suggested this game. Now, please, take off an item of clothing."

The cockiness in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Tech may be a terrible flirt, but his confidence in himself is incredibly sexy.

You slip your boots off and kick them under the table, then lean back in your chair and cross your arms. Tech's eyes are locked on you, a devious smile playing at his lips.

"Now who's distracted?" you taunt, winking at him.

"Hardly," he answers. But you can see the flush on his face and the way his chest is rising and falling just a little bit faster than usual. He's excited, and he's trying to hide it.

“You know, you’re wearing a lot more clothes than I am," you argue, leaning forward on the table and batting your eyelashes innocently. “You should take off an item, too, for fairness' sake."

"Fine." He pulls his boots off and drops them onto the floor. "Happy now?"

"Very."

Tech picks up the deck and shuffles the cards, the corners of his lips turning up.

"This was your plan, wasn't it?" he asks.

"My plan was to finally win a game of sabacc against you. And maybe see you with less clothes on, but that's an added bonus."

Tech chuckles and slides the cards toward you, his eyes burning into yours. "You are very devious. Now, deal the cards, darling."

You quickly learn that the stakes have made the game a lot more fun. Your heart races as the tension between the two of you rises, each of you sneaking glances at the other while pretending not to. And it doesn't take long for Tech to get the upper hand, much to your dismay.

"I told you," he teases, smirking at you over his cards, "my superior memory allows me to calculate the probability—"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't need to brag," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. You draw another card, cursing when it doesn't help you in the slightest.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining, you’re the one that wanted to play strip Sabacc," he says. You look up at Tech to see he's staring at his own cards, but the slight smile playing on his lips tells you he's aware of your annoyance.

You can't argue with that. You're the one that proposed the idea, and you're the one that can’t seem to stop losing, so now you're the one sitting on the ship with no shoes, socks, or a shirt, leaving only your pants and undergarments. Meanwhile, Tech has only removed his gloves and belt.

He places his cards face-up on the table, revealing another pure sabacc.

"Dammit," you sigh, throwing your own cards onto the table. "Again."

"Strip," Tech commands, and there's a huskiness to his voice that wasn't there before. His eyes are dark and intense as they follow your every move, and his mouth is curved in a devilish smile.

"Are you enjoying this?" you ask, unbuttoning your pants and standing from the chair.

"Immensely," he admits, his eyes not straying from you.

Heat spreads throughout your body at the intensity of his gaze. He watches with bated breath as you push the fabric down your legs, revealing the soft skin of your thighs, and he licks his lips subconsciously. The pants pool around your feet, and you kick them under the table before returning to your seat.

"Now who's the distracted one?"

"Not distracted," Tech replies, his eyes meeting yours. "Appreciating."

His words are heavy and sultry, and you can't stop the flush that colors your cheeks.

"You can appreciate me better if you lose another round," you tell him, shuffling the cards once again.

Tech's eyes narrow. "I think I'd prefer to watch you lose a few more."

The cockiness in his voice goes straight to your core, and a heat pools in your abdomen. Tech doesn't break eye contact, his stare intense and challenging, and a thrill shoots through you at the thought of what he could be thinking.

"I guess we'll see," you tell him, smirking.

You deal the cards, and Tech immediately throws a chip down, drawing his next card. A satisfied smile curves his lips. He's not even trying to hide his glee at your frustration, and it's infuriating.

You throw a chip onto your pile, drawing a card and praying that the Force will be on your side this round. You peek at the numbers and symbols on the card, and the disappointment is instant. It's the worst possible combination—a six and one. And you're out of chips.

When Tech sets his cards down, he does so slowly, drawing out the moment and relishing in your scowl.

You sigh, dropping your useless cards, and Tech's eyes brighten at the sight.

"Well, would you look at that?" he says, his voice filled with fake innocence. "I believe that's five in a row for me."

"No shit, really?" you mutter, rolling your eyes. "I had no idea."

He leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, his hands folded together and his chin resting on top. "Strip."

It's the way he says it, like a command. His voice is low and gravelly, and you feel yourself getting wetter at the tone. He's so sure of himself, so cocky, and it's driving you wild.

"Do I have to?" you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

Tech's eyes narrow in on you. "Yes."

You stand and unclasp your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders and slipping it off your arms. The cold air makes your nipples harden instantly, and his eyes widen when he sees them. He stares for a moment, taking in the view, and then his tongue darts out and licks his lips.

"I must admit, I'm finding this game more enjoyable than I originally thought," he says, his voice thick.

"Only because you're winning."

He hums in agreement and deals the next hand, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Throughout the round, Tech's eyes keep flicking back and forth between the cards and your chest, and you have to bite back a smile. He's trying so hard to concentrate, and his obvious struggle is adorable.

Tech's confidence fades as the round progresses, and by the time he sets his cards down, he isn't wearing his usual cocky smile. His mouth is pressed into a thin line and his eyebrows are knitted together when he shows you his hand.

"What's wrong, Tech?" you tease, leaning back in your seat. "Disappointed that you lost?"

"Of course not," he scoffs. "I've already calculated the possibilities and I know how this will end. I have no doubt that I will win."

"Then why are you pouting?"

"I am not pouting."

"Uh-huh. Well, whatever the reason, it's time for you to remove some clothes."

Tech sighs and slips off his goggles. His warm eyes meet yours, and you notice that they're slightly glazed over.

"There," he grumbles, pushing the goggles across the table toward you. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," you reply, a wide smile on your face.

Your eyes rake over him, taking in his appearance. It’s rare that you get to see him this way, and you savor the moment. Tech has always been handsome, but the way he looks right now, with his hair mussed and a blush coloring his cheeks, is absolutely enticing.

You pick up the deck and shuffle it, and the sound of the cards sliding together is the only noise in the room. Tech's eyes are fixed on your bare chest, and his throat bobs when he swallows.

"Like what you see?" you ask, raising a brow.

"Always."

Your cheeks flush, and you deal the cards. The anticipation is killing you, and the smugness that Tech was showing before is long gone. He seems eager to get the game over with, and the impatience in his demeanor is refreshing.

His eyes flick back and forth between the cards and the pile, and his face gives nothing away. You're desperate to know what his hand is, and it's taking every ounce of willpower not to peek.

He reaches across the table and throws a chip down, his brow furrowing. It's such a subtle change in his expression, and most people would miss it. But you know Tech well enough to understand his emotions, and right now he's frustrated.

Your heartbeat quickens as you draw a card. Another three to match the one already in your hand. Not great, but it's enough to win if Tech doesn't have a better sabacc.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask him, watching as his eyes move from his cards to yours and back again.

"Strategy," he mutters.

"What kind of strategy?"

"The type of strategy that will guarantee my victory,” he says. His eyes are determined and his jaw is clenched. He glances up from his cards to meet your gaze, and the fire in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

"Show me your cards," he demands.

You do as he asks, laying the two twos face-up on the table. The look he gives you is nothing short of prideful, and your heart drops.

"You've got to be kidding me," you groan.

Tech reveals his own cards—a sylop and a one. You let out an exasperated huff, and he chuckles.

"Well," he starts, placing his cards on the table and leaning back in his chair. His gaze travels over your body, and his smirk widens. "Go on."

Your cheeks heat up under his scrutinizing stare, and a part of you wants to rebel and refuse to comply. But Tech looks so damn good right now, his eyes filled with mischief, and the excitement coursing through you is too much.

"You're having too much fun," you say, your voice low.

"I'd have more fun if you'd hurry up and finish this little game of ours," Tech retorts.

 You're about to give him a smart retort, but then you notice the way he shifts in his seat. It's subtle, and you doubt he even realizes it, but it's there. The tightening of his thighs, the slight twitch of his hands. He's just as turned on as you are.

And you decide to play into it.

"I'm in no rush." You stand, slowly, and let your hands travel down the expanse of your chest, cupping your breasts and running your thumbs over your nipples.

Tech's breath catches, and his eyes are dark as they watch your every move. You can see his fingers twitching, aching to touch you, but he's refraining. You run a hand down your stomach, over the hem of your panties, and he licks his lips again.

Then, without warning, you turn away from him, exposing your backside. Tech makes a sound of protest, but his objection quickly dies down when he sees you hook your thumbs into the waistband and slide your underwear down. You bend forward to push them down your legs, and you can hear the sharp intake of breath from Tech.

The moment you turn around, a mischievous glint in your eye, you're met with a new expression on Tech's face.

He looks hungry.

His pupils are blown wide and his lips are parted, and you can tell it's taking all his strength not to jump across the table and take you right then and there.

"Well?" you tease, raising an eyebrow at him. "What are you waiting for?"

He doesn't waste a second. With one swift motion, he tosses the cards aside, his eyes never leaving yours, and stands. Then, he's on the other side of the table and grabbing your waist, pulling you towards him until your chest is pressed against his.

"I win," he announces, his hands roaming over your body.

"Then take your prize."

He pulls you into a searing kiss, his lips pressing insistently against yours. His hands travel the expanse of your skin, squeezing and caressing. One settles at the base of your neck while the other moves lower, down the curve of your back and to your ass. He grabs it, hard, and pulls your hips towards his, pressing his already-hard erection into you. You moan into his mouth, and he swallows it up, his tongue delving deeper and dancing with yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer and pressing your bare chest against him. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, and his arousal is evident as he rocks his hips into yours, his hand squeezing and kneading your flesh.

When the two of you break away for air, his mouth moves lower, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking the sensitive skin at your pulse point. You tilt your head back, allowing him more access, and he takes full advantage. His tongue laves over the area, teeth nipping at the skin, and a breathy moan escapes your lips.

Tech's lips travel lower, across your collarbone and down your chest, stopping at the valley between your breasts. His breath fans over your skin, and his tongue darts out, licking a stripe along the underside of one breast. His fingers move up, brushing over the bud of your nipple, and you let out a whimper at the sensation.

He looks up at you, a satisfied smile playing at his lips, before bending and taking the other nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it, his lips sucking the sensitive flesh, and his hand pinches the other one. The feeling sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and your hands find their way into his hair, tangling themselves in the strands.

You gasp as his teeth gently graze over the hardened peak, and your knees nearly buckle beneath you. His other hand comes up and holds your hip, steadying you, and his mouth moves to the other side.

"Tech..." you breathe, your head falling back and your eyes fluttering shut. He's barely touched you, and already, you're a panting mess.

Tech's lips travel further down, past your navel and to your thighs. He drops to his knees in front of you, his hands trailing along the curves of your hips, and his lips press kisses into your skin.

"I've been wanting to taste you all day," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"You should've told me earlier," you breathe, looking down at him through hooded eyes. "We could've skipped the sabacc." 

"This was far more entertaining." He presses a kiss to your mound, and you shudder. His eyes are dark with lust, and the sight of him on his knees before you makes your core clench with anticipation.

Tech kisses your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste the skin. Your hands tighten in his hair, tugging and guiding him to where you need him most. He chuckles, and the warm breath fans over your sensitive flesh. 

His fingers dance across your skin, teasing the crease of your thighs, before one presses against your heat. A moan escapes your lips, and he presses harder, dragging his finger through your folds.

"You're already so wet," he murmurs, his eyes watching the way his finger moves. "Were you thinking about this while we were playing? About what would happen if you lost?"

"Yes," you answer truthfully, and the admission has him groaning.

He rubs circles into your clit, his touch sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body. Your legs begin to shake, and you place a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. He glances up at you, the corner of his mouth turning up in a devilish smirk, and he presses a finger against your entrance. You whimper at the contact, and Tech lets out a quiet moan, the sight of you falling apart before him clearly affecting him.

"Tech, please," you beg, rocking your hips into his hand.

"Patience, darling," he coos.

He pushes the digit into you, slowly, letting you adjust to the stretch, and then curls it upwards. You gasp, your hand gripping his shoulder tighter, and he begins to pump his finger in and out of you. His arm nudges your thigh, spreading your legs wider, and he leans in and presses his mouth to your clit. He licks a broad stripe up the sensitive bundle of nerves, his tongue swirling around it, and you cry out in pleasure.

His free hand grips your thigh, holding you steady, while the other continues its slow movements, pushing in and out of you. You feel the tension coiling inside of you, and you know it won't take long for him to push you over the edge. His tongue is skilled and insistent, and he knows you better than anyone.

Tech's eyes are locked on yours, watching every reaction, and you can see the pure delight written on his face. He loves knowing he's the one doing this to you, making you fall apart.

"Tech... I'm..." You can't finish the sentence. The tension is building inside you, threatening to snap at any moment, and your breathing is labored. Tech adds a second finger, pumping faster and curling them against the spongy spot within you. You whimper, your grip on his shoulder tightening, and he knows you're close.

"Come for me," he says, his words vibrating against your sensitive flesh. His palm slaps against your clit, his fingers curling deeper, and the coil inside you snaps.

"Fuck!" you gasp, your legs shaking as the orgasm crashes through you. Tech's arm wraps around your thigh, keeping you upright as your knees buckle. He continues pumping his fingers, drawing out the pleasure, his tongue flicking and swirling around your clit.

When the sensations become too much, you place a hand on his forehead and push him away, your body going slack. Tech pulls his fingers from you and places a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before standing, his eyes searching yours.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice husky.

"Mhmm," you hum, a blissful smile tugging at your lips.

Tech's hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you into a bruising kiss. He takes a step forward, guiding you backwards, and the backs of your legs hit the bunk.

"Tech, please," you beg, breaking the kiss and staring into his eyes. They're black with desire, and he's already reaching down, fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

He pushes them down his legs, kicking them away, and his cock springs free, already leaking. Your hand reaches for him, stroking him from base to tip, and he groans, his hips bucking into your touch.

You continue the slow movements, dragging your hand along his length and rubbing your thumb over the tip. Tech's breathing is heavy, and his head falls to your shoulder, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"Stop," he mutters, grabbing your wrist and halting the movement. "I want to last more than five seconds."

You chuckle and press a kiss to his jaw. "Well, let's go, then."

His eyes meet yours, and he nods. Then, in a swift motion, he spins you around and pushes you forward, bending you over the side of the bed.

He presses his body against yours, his cock grinding against your ass, and a soft moan escapes your lips. He's close, his breathing hot and heavy against your neck, and his hands are gripping your hips, pulling you towards him.

You feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance, and a shiver runs down your spine. You lean forward, resting your arms on the mattress and tilting your ass higher, and Tech lets out a deep moan at the sight.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers as one hand slides along the curve of your back.

“Hurry up," you urge, wiggling your hips against him.

His hand moves down your hip, across your ass, taking a moment to squeeze the flesh, and lower to the back of your thigh. His fingers dance along the skin, sending shivers down your spine, before coming to a stop at the back of your knee. He lifts it, propping it on the edge of the bunk, spreading your legs wider, and then his cock is lining up with your entrance.

He pushes in, slowly, letting you adjust to the stretch. You whimper as he fills you, and his hand comes up, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back.

Tech pauses when he's fully sheathed inside you, his hips flush with yours, and his hand comes around to rest on your lower stomach. The light pressure on the spot is just enough to have you squirming, and you push back into him, silently begging for more.

"Please, Tech," you whimper, and he huffs a laugh.

"Begging already?" he teases, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear. "I haven't even started yet."

He pulls out of you, and the drag of his cock has you whining, already missing the sensation. He pushes back in, slow and deep, and you let out a shaky breath.

"Fuck, Tech," you pant, and he groans, his nose brushing against the nape of your neck.

His pace is slow and methodical, and you can't help but admire the restraint he's showing. Usually, he's a mess by this point, but now, his fingers are digging into your hips, holding you steady, and his breathing is slow and controlled.

You turn your head, pressing your cheek against the sheets, and glance up at him. His eyes are shut tight, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. You're not sure what's gotten into him, but he seems determined not to lose control.

"Harder, Tech," you urge, pushing your hips back to meet his. He grunts and snaps his hips, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. You let out a moan, and Tech's pace quickens, his thrusts growing more forceful.

Your fingers dig into the sheets, trying to find purchase as he pounds into you. It's intoxicating, the feeling of his cock filling you, stretching you. And the sounds coming from his lips—the soft grunts and moans—are driving you wild. He's always quiet during sex, but the sounds he's making now are anything but.

Tech's grip on your hip tightens, and his hand on your stomach presses harder, holding you in place as his hips move faster. His thrusts are sharp and deep, and he hits that sweet spot inside you, sending tingling waves of pleasure through your body.

"Yes," you cry out, and you push back against him, meeting each thrust. "More, Tech."

"I don't want to hurt you," he says, his voice strained.

"You won't."

He lets out a strangled moan and slams his hips into yours, the movement nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. He continues his relentless pace, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip, and your head falls forward, resting against the sheets.

Your legs are shaking, and the tension inside you is threatening to snap at any moment. You can feel the fire burning in your abdomen, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, and the way Tech is panting against your neck isn't helping.

"That's it," he growls, his voice low and husky. "You're close, aren't you?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"I can feel you tightening around me." He groans, his pace never faltering. "You're going to come for me."

It's a demand, not a question. And you have no intention of disobeying him.

Tech's hand slides from your hip to your ass, squeezing the plump flesh. The possessiveness of the gesture has you keening, and you arch your back, presenting yourself to him. He growls at the sight, his hips slamming into yours.

"Stars, you're so fucking beautiful," he pants, his hand moving to your thigh and hiking your leg higher. The new angle allows him to slide deeper inside you, and you can feel the pressure building within you, the tears beginning to prick at your eyes.

"Tech, please," you beg, pushing your hips back to meet his.

"What do you need, darling?" he asks, his voice strained. "Tell me."

"Make me come, please," you whine, and his hips jerk forward.

His hand is quick, sliding between your legs and finding your clit. He presses two fingers against the swollen bud, rubbing slow circles, and the tension snaps. Your body goes rigid, and your vision blurs as the orgasm rips through you. You cry out, Tech's name falling from your lips, and your knees buckle, the only thing keeping you upright is his firm grip on your hips.

You bury your face in the sheets, muffling the sound of your moans, and Tech keeps pumping into you, his thrusts rocking you forward and sending your orgasm even higher.

He fucks you through the high, his pace never faltering, each thrust punching another gasp from you. Your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white and jaw clenched, and the pleasure is so intense that tears begin to roll down your cheeks. His cock twitches inside you, and you clench around him, desperate to push him over the edge.

"Fuck," he hisses, his thrusts becoming sloppy. He's babbling now, his voice hoarse and broken, and you can tell he's close. "You're perfect, darling. You're— fuck, I love you, I love you, I love—"

His words are cut off by a deep groan, and his hips stutter. He slams into you one final time before he spills into you, hot and thick, and the feeling is enough to make you see stars. His hands are gripping your waist, bruising the flesh, and he pulls you into his lap as he turns and collapses onto the bed.

You both sit there, panting, his chest pressed against your back. His forehead is resting against your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. The two of you are covered in a sheen of sweat, and his hands are roaming your body, tracing gentle patterns across your skin.

"That was..." Tech trails off, unable to form the words.

"Yeah," you agree, leaning back against him. You take in a shaky breath and sigh. "I love you too, by the way."

"I know." He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his lips pressing a gentle kiss against the sensitive skin. "I can't believe you suggested strip sabacc."

"And I can't believe you agreed."

"Well, I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to see you naked," he chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy circles across your abdomen.

You laugh, and the sound is bright and clear. You shift in his lap, turning around and straddling his hips. His eyes are soft as he stares up at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Maybe we should play it more often then," you joke, leaning down and capturing his lips in a tender kiss.

"We will, if this is how you plan to reward me every time I win."

"Deal."

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

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@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Love strategy p.5

Hi guyss, here's the new part and part 4 if you've missed it. Btw let me know if any of you are rooting for Carlos x reader.

Thursdays at the paddock aren’t usually the busiest days, typically reserved for media and press duties. But today feels different—charged with a tension you can’t quite shake. It’s not the usual pre-race nerves that settle into your chest; today, it’s knowing that you and Lando are planning to expose your "relationship." The weight of what’s to come sits heavily on your shoulders.

Carlos has already wrapped up his interviews and filmed with Charles, leaving only one thing left on your agenda: filming the collaboration with McLaren. You can feel the anxiousness thrumming through your body, each step toward the McLaren motorhome sending a fresh wave of nervous energy. But when you finally arrive and catch Lando’s eye across the room, some of that tension eases. His presence is a quiet reminder—you’re in this together.

He flashes you a quick grin, and in that moment, it’s like a silent agreement passes between you. You’ve got this. Both of you.

As the filming begins, Lando, Carlos, Charles, and Oscar gather in front of the cameras for the challenge. The atmosphere lightens with the familiar chaos of drivers joking around, ready for the game ahead. Today, they’re playing Two Truths and a Lie, and the crew is already laughing as Charles delivers his statement, trying to fool the others.

The mood is infectious, and you find yourself relaxing a bit, the anxious weight in your chest slowly lifting. You watch as they take turns, each trying to outwit the other with absurd or strangely believable stories. Charles goes first, followed by Carlos, whose grin grows wider as the others try to guess which of his outlandish claims is the lie.

But then it’s Lando’s turn, and suddenly, your nerves come rushing back, the realization of what’s about to happen hitting you like a tidal wave.

Lando, with his usual playful smirk, steps up to deliver his three statements. He starts with something simple—“I hate pineapple on pizza,” followed by a more random, “I once beat Oscar at mini-golf by 10 strokes.”

Everyone chuckles, waiting for the third, and you brace yourself, knowing what’s coming.

“And… I’m dating her.” He nods in your direction.

The room falls silent. Charles and Carlos exchange bewildered glances, and Oscar just stares at Lando like he’s grown a second head.

Carlos is the first to speak, raising an eyebrow. "Wait… what?"

Charles lets out a nervous laugh. "No way. That’s got to be the lie, right?"

But Lando just shrugs casually, that playful smile never leaving his face. "Guess you’ll have to figure that out."

All eyes shift toward you, and you feel the heat of the moment rise, your heart racing in your chest. The shock is palpable in the room, the drivers still trying to figure out if he’s serious or if this is all part of the game. You can’t help but smile, trying to play it cool despite the pounding in your ears.

Carlos is the first to react after the initial shock, narrowing his eyes as he looks between you and Lando. "You dating him? That’s definitely the lie," he says, crossing his arms with a challenging smirk. It’s clear he’s waiting for the punchline, certain that Lando’s last statement couldn’t possibly be true.

You feel your pulse quicken, trying to keep your expression neutral. Lando, on the other hand, is perfectly calm, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Oscar jumps in, a grin tugging at his lips. "Actually, I can already tell you that the lie is… we’ve never played mini-golf. Ever."

The room goes silent again, but this time, the atmosphere shifts. The realization slowly dawns on everyone—Lando’s last statement wasn’t the lie. The truth of your "relationship" is out, just like that.

Carlos’ arms drop to his sides, his face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Charles looks between you and Lando, stunned but clearly trying to process it. Oscar just chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief as the video crew wraps up, signaling the end of the shoot.

"Wait—so… you two are actually dating?" Charles blurts out, breaking the silence with a laugh. "That’s mad!"

You manage a smile, trying to keep your cool under the weight of the attention. Lando throws a playful arm around your shoulders, grinning as he faces the group. "Yep. Surprise!"

The filming wraps up, and the drivers begin to disperse, but Carlos doesn’t leave right away. Instead, he walks straight toward you, his usual laid-back demeanor gone. His expression is harder, his eyes searching yours for answers.

"Can we talk for a minute?" Carlos asks, his tone more serious than usual. There’s a hint of frustration, maybe even a little aggression, in his voice.

You nod, not wanting to cause a scene, and follow him to a quieter spot away from the others. His gaze doesn’t leave yours as he speaks, the intensity catching you off guard. "How long has this been going on?" he asks, crossing his arms. "Why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

You swallow, feeling a lump in your throat. "Carlos, it’s not—"

But before you can finish, Lando steps in, positioning himself protectively beside you. His playful energy has faded, replaced by a calm, steady seriousness. "Hey, relax, mate," he says, his voice low but firm. "It’s not a big deal. We didn’t mean to hide anything from you. It just… happened."

Carlos narrows his eyes, clearly not buying the nonchalant explanation. "Really? So you’re just together now, out of nowhere?"

You step in, trying to defuse the tension. "Carlos, it’s not like that. We didn’t want to make things awkward for anyone, especially with work. That’s why we waited."

Carlos lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he mutters, though it’s clear he’s still not entirely convinced. "Just… don’t let this mess with things."

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with Lando. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the weight of the moment finally hitting you.

Lando, sensing your tension, leans closer and mutters, "Well… that went better than expected."

You can’t help but laugh, even though you’re still processing everything. "Better?"

He grins, nudging you playfully. "Hey, he didn’t throw a punch, so I’d call it a win."

Tag list: @abq654 , @spaceflowergal, @mads94sworld, @anewpersonthatexists, @qlovalova, @itsskavya, anaferreira-4, @willowsnook, @larastark3107, @blueberry648579, @luckyangelballoon, @runs-with-sciss0rs, @gtwdahhh, @edsmunsonsgirl, @under-seasoned-pasta, @marshmummy, @weekendlusting

[bbernard-03]

Begin Again

˚｡ ❀ ˚｡The Beginning˚｡ ❀ ˚｡

Summary: The weight of it all finally gets too much, and the decision is made, but will the kind words of a stranger be enough to shine a light into the blinding darkness?

Warnings: use of y/n, mentions of suicidal thoughts/suicide

thank you @bernardsbendystraws for proofreading and being the best <3

**i do not consent to my work being copied, used for inspiration, or republished**

prologue <- -> next part

----------

Two weeks ago, I was prepared to take my own life. The decision made, the plan in place, the letter… almost written. The plan was halted when a brown-haired, ocean-eyed stranger reminded me why life was worth living. Why my story was worth completing. Matt spent hours with me that night discussing everything from dreams and fears to thoughts and memories. He breathed life back into me, and I will never be able to repay him for that. 

Today, I was walking down the streets of the small town I had escaped to, facing the daily challenge that Matt had so graciously deemed upon me: Do something for yourself. After much deliberation and argument, I walked towards an ice cream shop I used to love as a kid. The happy memories were plagued with the dark events in the years that followed. I paused as I approached the double doors, taking a shaky breath. I took out my phone and typed out a message.

Y/N:

I can’t do it. 

I stared at the screen, watching the bubbles appear almost instantly in the bottom corner. 

Matt: 

Yes, you can. Remember, there are things worth living for. You’re working on finding them. 

I sigh and gnaw at my bottom lip. 

Y/N:

I’m trying. I really am. But I don’t think I can do this. It’s too much. 

Matt: 

Look up, sweetheart. 

I lifted my eyes and saw Matt standing a few feet away with a comforting smile as he approached me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, his thumb gently caressing the bare skin. 

“You can do this. You have to do something for yourself. Ice cream is a treat, right?” He asks softly, his words firm and encouraging. 

“Yeah, ice cream’s a treat. I just..” My voice trails off as I stare at the ice cream parlor before me. “I just haven’t been here in a very long time.” My voice is soft, filled with nostalgia and a hint of pain. 

“Do you want to try something else?” He offers gently. Despite my stubbornness and hesitations, in the past two weeks, he has never once lost his patience with me. 

“No,” I say softly. “This used to be my favorite place.. This is for me.” I say with as much confidence as possible, which isn’t much. He smiles softly at me. 

“Lead the way.” 

I shakily grasp the door handle and pull it open, the familiar scent filling my nose as I step through the door, Matt following closely behind. 

“Oh, our little Rainbow!” A voice exclaims from behind the counter. My head snapped up as I saw Belinda, the older woman who runs the shop. 

“Mrs.B!” I exclaim happily as she rounds the counter and crushes me in a hug. 

“It has been too long, my girl. You’re all grown up. Let me look at you!” She states and holds me at arm's length as she examines every part of me. “Your hair is longer.” She says softly. 

“I decided to grow it out.” I smile softly. “It’s so good to see you, Mrs.B.” 

“I love it; it suits you and makes you look like an adult.” She smiles widely and then notices Matt. “And who’s this?” She asks with a slight smirk on her face. 

“This is Matt,” I say with a smile. “Just a friend, Mrs.B.” I giggle and turn to Matt. “She tends to romanticize everything.”

“I can’t help being in love with love!” She exclaims with faux dramatics. “You want your usual, Rainbow?” I can’t help but smile at the fact that she remembers my order despite it having been almost ten years since I’ve set foot in the shop. 

“Yes, please, Mrs.B. One for Matt too,” I say sweetly. 

Five minutes later, we’re both sitting at a small booth in the corner of the shop, sipping strawberry milkshakes. I hum lightly along with the music and glance around at the parlor. Nothing had changed in the last decade and it’s oddly comforting. 

“What’re you thinking about, hm?” Matt asks, looking at me curiously. 

“Just how much nothing has changed here. It’s.. comforting.” I smile softly at him. 

“How often did you use to come here?” He questions gently. 

“Every day, every summer.. Until I was 13.” I glance around again as if trying to memorize every detail. 

“Why’d you stop?” His question, seemingly innocent, creates a heavy pit in my stomach. 

“Mom and Dad got divorced that spring. Nobody was really up for family vacations after that.” I say quietly, omitting most of the details, unsure if it was for his or my benefit. Matt looked at me curiously, almost instantly knowing there was more to the story but choosing to pick his battles in breaking down my walls. 

“I’m sorry that happened,” he spoke softly. “This seems like a very special place, especially to you.” 

“It was.. Is.. This town, this shop, it was the focal point of my childhood. The happiest memories I have.” My voice was dripping with heartache as I recalled all the years spent here before my family crumbled to pieces. 

Matt and I sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the visit. The only sound being the hum of the machine and occasional conversations between Mrs.B and customers. Despite the ache in my chest remembering the happy moments, I can’t help but feel a sliver of relief that I’m here. I’m making new memories, happy ones. I look at Matt, a small smile on my face. He was the reason I was here. 

“What?” He asks with a soft chuckle. “Do I have something on my face?” He wipes around his mouth. 

“No,” I giggle. “I.. I’m just.. I feel a little better than okay right now.” My words are met with Matt's bright smile. 

“I am so glad, sweetheart.” He reaches across and squeezes my hand before pulling it back. He’s made sure to respect my personal space these past two weeks, never having physical contact with me more than necessary. Another fact on the list of why he’s the best person I’ve ever met. 

“I’m grateful for you,” I say simply. He looks at me, and I can see the happiness on his face. 

Once we finish our milkshakes, we begin the stroll back. The air swirling around us, the hint of saltiness from the ocean soothing every ache in my soul. I take in my surroundings inch by inch. A flower had bloomed more than it was yesterday, I saw a new face pass by us, a little girl hugged her Mom after getting a toy. Joy. A feeling I had almost forgotten existed. 

This was where I was meant to be. I think.

[revasserium]

had me at hello

todoroki shouto; 4,082 words; fluff, tiny sprinkle of angst, no "y/n", summer camp, canon-divergent, domestic fluff, teeth-rotting fluff, summer-time romance, self-indulgent as all living fuck

summary: nothing lasts forever, not even goodbye. or, in which todoroki shouto discovers that summer flings really aren't his thing

a/n: chat we are SO back. back on this todoroki brain rot GRIND!!! and as opposed to posting at the last possible second for @pixelcafe-network's challenge friday like i did last time, i'm posting mine first this time to make up for it! the theme was "saying goodbye to a summer love" ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡

It was to be a whirlwind summer, one that’s different from every one that came before it. Todoroki had thought, naively, that summer training camp would end up being just that — just another summer thing.

And he’d never been fond of the heat.

But you — you’d swept in like the rain, all bluster and brilliant, summer-thunder laughter. You struck across his storm-ridden skies like a spark of lightning, setting all his forests ablaze.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. Didn’t think much of the volunteers that the Pussycats had brought along to help around camp. Groupies, he’d dismissed, and thought of it no more. But the first night everyone came back, exhausted and sore and sweating in places they’d never thought could produce sweat, you’d been there along with the others (he doesn’t remember their names now, but he remembers yours), passing around cold water and setting up the food for dinner.

“Here,” you hand him a water bottle; he dips his head, his chest still heaving from exertion. He twists off the cap and gulps down half the bottle, feeling a cool trickle escape the corner of his mouth to run down his chin. He wipes at it with the back of his hand just as you cast him a grin before turning around to hand another water bottle to Kirishima.

Todoroki swallows, his palms warm, watching as you laugh at something someone says. He lingers on the gloss in your hair and the ease of your smile. He wonders what kind of quirk you might have; he catches himself wondering, and then proceeds to wonder why he’s wondering at all.

He thinks it’s the heat — fanning himself, he looks away — glancing up at the smoldering sky before sighing and capping his water bottle.

“They must love you at school, huh?” you ask, your voice jolting him out of one reverie and into another. Dinner’s almost done, and he’d wandered toward the edge of the wood for a moment of quiet, of peace or sanctity. He hadn’t noticed you following him, and that in and of itself should have set his senses on high. But, the air is tepid and the humidity heavy, and Todoroki only has time to cock a single eyebrow before you smile and continue —

“Your quirk — keeps you cool in the summer, and warm in the winter. Useful, no?”

He watches you watching him, your eyes huge and full of the dancing flames. He looks back towards the rest of his classmates, all chatting and laughing, grouped loosely with one another, Ashido flitting from one group to the other like the social butterfly she is.

“It’s alright,” Todoroki answers, surprising even himself. He drops his eyes, fixing his gaze on a point just above his own feet before you laugh, the sound drawing his attention back towards you.

“You’re not a very good liar, but that’s okay. It’s not a bad thing.”

You shoot him another grin.

“Your quirk,” he says, clearing his throat slightly as he feels a distinct heat prickling up the sides of his neck, “can I ask what it is?”

You list your head to one side, your expression curiously blank. Before you shoot him a smile that can only be called devious.

You nudge him with an arm before dancing away, but that momentary contact is all you’d needed. Todoroki feels his whole body relax, feels some of the tension drop from his shoulders, the strange nervousness that had been coiling in his stomach unclench.

“Guess!”

Someone calls your name from over your shoulder.

“Coming!”

You give him one final wink before dashing off, leaving him dazed, head reverberating as if someone had rung him through like a bell on a Sunday morning.

The weeks had passed in a strange blur after that, as if some vengeful giant had gone stomping through his memories, dragging a large hand across the vivid scenes, smearing the colors and scrambling the timelines. He remembers the ever-present ache in his muscles, the eternal shortness of breath that had accompanied the first few weeks, but he also remembers your presence in the evenings — always in the evenings, the shadow of you flickering around each and every one of his classmates, mostly asking about their days, but sometimes placing a comforting hand here or there.

He remembers your touch well, the gentle anchor of it, the immediate relief.

“Your quirk… it has something to do with feelings, doesn’t it?” he asks one night, a towel draped around his shoulders from a recent shower, his hair still damp in the early evening dark.

You flash him an enigmatic smile, swinging your feet as you turn your head back towards the liquid moonlight casting pale shadows along the edges of the summer-still leaves.

“What makes you say that?”

“Just…” Todoroki joins you, letting his arm brush along yours, his eyes following your gaze as he too sweeps the now empty campgrounds, the remnants of the barbeque fires still smoldering in their pits, the smoke twisting towards the cloudless sky like so many misty-tendrilled streams.

“Had a feeling.”

“A feeling, huh?” you echo, laughing softly, looking back down.

Todoroki doesn’t push you, but you don’t deny it either.

“You’re not wrong,” you say, after a brief moment of silence, “my quirk — it’s not offensive, or even defensive but… if I’m touching someone, I can… siphon their feelings into me,” and as if to demonstrate, you gently press your leg to his, and Todoroki feels the tired wariness drain from him, the feeling of ease trickling through him like hot water cascading down his skin.

He stifles a soft groan, feeling a blush press up against his cheeks.

You move your leg away, leaning back till your head is resting against the back of the park bench, poised at the edge of the large encampment.

“But that’s…” Todoroki searches for the right word — somehow ‘useful’ doesn’t seem quite right.

“No, you’re right,” you say, giggling even as you save him the necessity of finishing his sentence, “it’s a good quirk to have. It’s… necessary.”

But the way you say that word sounds a little too much like heartbreak for Todoroki to ignore.

“You said siphon…” he says, after a brief stretch of quiet, and he tastes the word on his tongue as if saying it for the first time.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you say, and longing is too close a friend of his for him not to notice it threaded through your voice like a secret.

“Which means… whatever you take from the person you’re touching… you have to feel it too, right?”

You lick your lips, your eyes flickering down to your hands, palms open.

“Yes.”

It’s a simple answer, but one that lands with a gut-punch of implication. Todoroki swallows, shifting ever so slightly to let his knee rest against yours. He tries his hardest to focus on calmness, to project relief. You turn to flash him a smile.

“You’re sweet,” and he hadn’t meant to blush, hadn’t meant for his heart to kick up like a drumbeat, but does. And he knows, instinctively, that you’d felt it too — passing through from his skin to yours by some strange glitch of nature.

He makes to pull away, but you reach out to rest a hand on his arm.

And almost instantly, he feels his heartbeat calm, feels the heat receding. But it isn’t like before — it isn’t the feeling of having something leave his body, but rather having something pressed in. Like a warm blanket settling over his shoulders, or a cold hand to ward off unwanted heat. Your calm seeps into him like summer rain, cooling his mind until he’s breathing steady.

He blinks down at you, startled.

“It goes both ways,” you say, and he can see the twin glow of warmth high in your cheeks. He spares a moment wondering if that blush had once belonged to him, if you were just holding onto it for a bit longer before letting it go. You move your hand away and he has to fight down the urge to pull it back.

“Oh,” is the only thing he can think of to say.

You are everywhere after that — perhaps not in the physical sense, but Todoroki seems to have lost the ability to not notice you. Or maybe he’s just gained the ability to — to what? Develop a crush? Is that even what this is? He doesn’t know — he’s never had one before to compare it to.

But he can’t help now how instantly his attention snags on the sound of your voice, like a stray thread on a mesh-wire fence, or how an unshakable shiver traces down his spine whenever you’re near. He feels childish, like he did when he was too little to control his quirk. But he’d learned since then, hadn’t he?

Hadn’t he?

“It’s all just hormones!” he overhears Ashido say to Uraraka one night, the girls all clustered together on a single long sofa, limbs against limbs, cheeks pillowed on shoulders, a careless sort of closeness threading them all together. Todoroki’s never thought himself a jealous person, but watching them now, he wonders what it might be like to be able to touch a person with little to no thought at all, for it all to be second nature.

Uraraka blushes something furious, crinkling her nose.

“I — I don’t know…”

“I’m pretty sure whatever Mineta-chan is feeling can’t just be explained by hormones,” Asui says, her eyes huge and dark even as Ashido rolls her eyes.

“Maybe not just hormones, but that’s a large part of it!” Ashido insists.

Dangling on the side of the sofa, one foot tapping to music only she can hear, Jiro glances over and shrugs.

“Boys are weird.”

The girls all make varying sounds of agreement, and Todoroki forces his feet to move, thankful for the thick slab of shadow that had kept him from view of the general common area. He stares ahead as he walks down the long length of hallway, wondering if hormones really are the culprit behind whatever the hell this is.

The grueling days bleed into sweat-slick weeks, and somehow, he finds himself seeking you out more and more often. Sometimes after a particularly hard training session, under the guise of needing some “help” recovering (it had come out that Recovery Girl couldn’t make it so the Pussycats had volunteered you as the next best thing), sometimes without any reason at all, other than the simple want of your company.

He finds himself laughing, finds himself reaching for you — and he blames it on the weather, blames it on the tiredness now eternally sunk into his muscles, the soreness that won’t ever quite go away. He tells himself that it’s just a summer thing, to feel so hot that he gets lightheaded, to laugh until his stomach hurts, to feel the inexplicable itch to graze your hand with his when you’re sitting too close and not nearly close enough.

Thinking back, he’d known it would never last. You’d told him early on that you don’t live in the city. But that it’s not too far, if ever he wanted to visit.

“Camp’ll be over in a few weeks,” you say, lying back on a patch of sun-dried grass, beneath a swirling canopy of stars, Todoroki sitting beside you, his arms propping up his torso as he stares up at the sky alongside you.

“Yeah. I’m surprised it’s been so peaceful,” he says.

You laugh, shooting him a curious look.

“Used to getting in trouble?”

“There… seem to be a few of my classmates that attract trouble. Of all kinds.”

“I don’t mind a bit of trouble.”

“Don’t you?”

You grin up at him as he glances down at you.

“Not one bit.”

You feel him shifting as he lies down next to you, your elbows brushing in the grass. He feels a jolt of electricity snake up his arm, coiling in the base of his belly. For a second, he wonders if its a him-feeling, or a you-feeling. And then, he realizes that it doesn’t really matter — and before he knows it, he’s twisting to his side, leaning over just far enough to press his lips to yours.

In the grand scheme of kisses, Todoroki thinks that it might not have been the most well-positioned kiss, or the most well thought-out. And for all everyone calls him genius, this is one thing he’s never really had the chance to practice. Still, by the time he realizes that he’s kissing you, he barely has the chance to reconcile with the fact that you’re kissing him too. You, pressing up against him and pulling him down all at once.

His lips on yours, and yours on his — an endless echo of this kiss, and this kiss, and just this kiss. He feels his heartbeat like a reverberation, because he thinks he can feel yours too. He loses feeling in all his limbs, and wonders briefly if this is what free-falling might be like — to feel weightless, to be lifted outside of yourself.

You reach up to press a hand to his cheek, and he feels himself being shunted back into his body. He feels each of his limbs like discovering them for the very first time — his fingers tangled in your hair, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you in, holding you close. He does not remember pulling away. But he must have, because he remembers gasping for a breath he’s long since lost to the heave of your lungs.

He feels fire, and ice, and the spinning song of a million overhead stars.

“Is this — are you —” he struggles for words but you just smile.

“I don’t know — sometimes when I’m too —” you swallow, a bit breathless yourself, the head-thrumming heat of it all passing between the pair of you like a whisper, or a secret, “when I’m too excited I — I’ll accidentally make someone else feel it too but —”

You look back up to catch his eyes, and he finds himself smiling.

“It’s not just you,” he says, quiet and sure. Because this, whatever this is, is more than just a quirk — more than just the accidental bleeding of feelings from one body to another. More than simple empathy — it’s entropy.

A chaos of feelings.

Because he’d felt it bubbling inside him, alone at night, staring up at the moon-slatted ceiling. Wondering what it might be like to hold your hand.

And maybe this is what Ashido had been talking about — with hormones and urges and all the woes that come with being a teenage boy. But he doesn’t care; there’s time to worry about that later. For now, he thinks he’d just like to kiss you again.

And so, he does.

Time passes by strangely after that — and though neither of you had intended on it, the budding relationship between the pair of you had become a known secret. No one had ever called it out by name, but no one questions Todoroki either when he wanders off after dinner. No one blinks twice when you press a hand to the back of his neck after morning drills, smiling when he lets out a soft, pleased sigh.

Even years later, Todoroki can’t quite piece together the exact timeline of things. He remembers the late nights, staying up just to talk to you, wandering through the woods, you jumping at a rabbit or a squirrel, and him slipping his hand through yours with a silent reassurance. He remembers telling you about himself — even though he doesn’t remember you asking. About his father, his mother, his siblings, his scar.

He remembers how you’d reached out and held his anger and sorrow and resentment in your upturned palms, how you cradled them like bruised fruit, with delicate fingers and a smile that looked not one bit like pity. How you did not run.

He remembers you telling him about your childhood too, of your quirk being used and abused by careless adults and ruthless children alike. Of how your parents had used you as one might use a bad therapist, like a dumping ground for unwanted emotions. Of how you learnt to deal with the unbearable weight of all those feelings — things that a little girl should never have to learn how to deal with on her own.

He remembers how you held him and he held you, and how you both had allowed yourselves to hold and be held by each other.

But what he remembers most is the ending — the last night of camp, when he knew he’d be leaving the next morning. All the bags are packed, and they’d all come out stronger. It had been an uneventful, tiring sort of camp, where nothing happened except daily training, but for a class full of teens with super-human powers and the uncanny ability to attract life-threatening situations, it could be called a resounding success.

“Excited to be going back to school?” you ask.

He watches you drag a pale pink nail polish over your fingers, one by one, blowing on each finger as you smooth out the color with steady swipes.

“I guess so. We have provisional license exams coming up, so I doubt we’ll get much rest after this.”

“Aww… but I guess no one ever said becoming a hero was an easy thing, right?” you laugh, tossing him a good-natured wink.

He sighs, leaning back against the wall of your camp room.

“Nothing worth having is ever easy.”

“Hm…” you hum, finishing off your manicure and carefully screwing the brush back into the nail polish bottle.

Todoroki turns to find you frowning slightly at your nails.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just…” you press your hands carefully into your lap, “it got me thinking — this was… easy, wasn’t it?”

And he doesn’t have to ask what you’d meant by this. Because he knows. And with a jolt, he realizes that yes. This was easy. It was so easy, being with you, in this secluded place. So easy to laugh without worrying about the outside world, to forget, if only for a while.

Easy to kiss you, to hold you, to push away the thoughts of tomorrows and endings until — well.

“Yeah…” Todoroki breathes, “I guess… I guess it was.”

Silence blooms between you like a plume of smoke.

“But… I mean,” you say, waving your hands through the air to help your nails along, before slumping back into your pillows, “it was never going to be forever, right?”

And this time, Todoroki can’t quite tell if you’re talking about this or perhaps — he can’t help the tiny bead of hope coalescing in his chest — a future where your goodbye is the thing that doesn’t last forever.

“No,” he answers, allowing himself a small smile as he looks down at his own hands, “nothing really ever is.”

You giggle, rolling over to peer at him from your stomach, “You’re so serious.”

But by the time he lifts his head, you’d already crawled over to press your lips to his. It’s a sweet kiss, a simple kiss, and Todoroki feels his chest seize inside him, his arms going heavy with a liquid weight. When you pull away, he notices your eyes are fractured with tears. You wipe them away with a laugh.

“Look at me — I’m so silly.”

Todoroki shakes his head, reaching out to cup your cheeks gently between his hands, the way you’d taught him to with his own jagged emotions. And he feels it then, your sadness, your uncertainty, the stomach-twisting knowledge of endings.

“The beginning might’ve been easy but… this isn’t.”

You hiccup, going still as he holds you.

“So… I guess we were worth it after all, huh,” you say, looking down at the space between you.

Todoroki nods, leaning forward just enough to press his forehead to yours, nudging your nose with his for a second before bringing you in for yet another kiss. He pulls away and tastes salt on his lips.

“That’s how we know — because the ending is hard. That’s how we know it was worth it.”

When the next morning comes, you don’t cry when you wave them all off, though many of the girls are. You catch his gaze and hold it for just a second longer than you’d done with anyone else. Beside him on the bus, Aoyama makes a soft, knowing kind of noise.

“Ah… first love is always such sweet despair,” he says, twinkling in his usual way.

Todoroki clears his throat, leaning back in his seat, a strange stillness settling over him as he thinks about the days ahead.

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” Todoroki says, to Aoyama’s dramatic surprise. But he recovers quickly and begins a soliloquy about something or other that carries them all the way back into the city, and to their assigned dorms.

He never forgets you, though there are moments when he’d wonder if that summer had really happened. Years later, when the memories have all gone watercolor-pale, and the edges blurred with time, he’ll still find himself reaching into the part of his mind that feels like the soft, steady weight of your hand on the back of his neck to calm him down, the smooth of your skin as you��d pressed against him and held him close.

And then, the year that he turns 24, it happens — he’d been called out into a small town just outside Shizuoka, for some kind of event that Fuyumi swears would be good for his publicity (as if he needed any more). Even after all these years, it still unsettles him to travel alone to these places, and he subconsciously reaches for the feeling of your palm pressing to his skin.

“Shouto?”

He turns at the sound of his name, and though a part of him assumes it’s yet another adoring fan, the deepest, most honest part of him whispers that it isn’t — that he knows this voice.

“Oh… its you,” the words slip from him like pebbles into a thawing stream.

And there you are, standing feet from him, your arms full of groceries, a red and white muffler strung around your shoulders, looking every bit as brilliant as the you from his memories.

The smile that splits your face is beautiful as heartbreak.

“Well, someone very wise once did tell me that nothing lasts forever… not even goodbyes.”

Todoroki takes half a step closer to you, a smile spreading across his own lips as he reaches out to help you with your groceries, taking the bags into his arms. The movement as natural as coming home.

“Yes but… I was thinking about it the other day and —”

“Oh? Just the other day?” you tease, bumping him slightly with your elbow was you set off down the half-empty street. It’s almost sundown, and the days are getting shorter again. Your breath fogs up the air before you and Todoroki suddenly thinks that winter looks good on you.

Even better than summer had.

“Yeah, but I realized…” he says, casting his eyes up at the cloud-strewn sky, the colors fading fast, the thick velvet of night inching up across the world like a curtain being drawn.

He turns his eyes back towards you, only to find you watching him with an indulgent smile on your face.

Todoroki blushes, feeling suddenly bashful, like the teenage boy he was when you two first met.

“I realized,” he says again, determined to finish his thought this time, “that when we first met… we never really said hello.”

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[kingofthecotas]

visited sins

just after the emilia romagna press conference, pecco & marc | ~500 words

overt vs covert psychological warfare: a rosquez thesis

——

“Pecco!”

Pecco freezes, one foot in a snare, waits for Marc to catch up. He almost doesn’t want to turn around; he does.

Marc, arms folded, appraises him, face exactly as guarded as it had been in the press room. “Sorry.”

Which is absolutely fucking not what Pecco expected him to say.

“You should not be—you’re right, it’s nothing to do with you.” Marc shrugs. No expression. “Sorry.”

“Ah…” Pecco tries his best to gather himself. “It—it will keep happening, I think. They are just giving us some practice for next year.”

The granite cracks, just a little. “It’s our problem,” Marc says, plaintive. “Not yours.”

Pecco wonders if Marc hears the sound of his own voice when he says our, if he notices what it does, if it makes him want to bang his head against a wall. Maybe he rides through it. Maybe he doesn’t even realise.

That’s worse, somehow.

“It will be my problem. To them, anyway.”

“Not to me.”

“Well.” Christ. “Thank you.”

Marc nods, looks away as if he’s uncomfortable. “You really do not care?”

“I was not racing.” It’s true. True enough.

“You know what happened, though.” And that’s a challenge.

“I know what Valentino said happened.”

Conversations with Marc are always a tightrope-tread; he lets someone talk themselves into knots, nods along, lets them talk some more, and leaves knowing far more than they ever intended to let him see. He’s watching now, head tilted just the slightest amount, all sharp eyes and tight lips. He looks like he’s seeing something in Pecco that—maybe it’s the first time, maybe not, but he’s seeing it, cracking open his ribcage to stare. “So what do you think?”

It’s an easy trap, but a trap nonetheless. “I think that the truth is somewhere in the middle. Like with most things.”

“Mm.” A blink, and Pecco’s sidestepped the pitfall. “I really—I want to say thank you for the podium. I appreciate it.”

“It is not nice to hear, especially—” Pecco’s feet catch on something; the rope he’s about to hang himself with, maybe. “It was a good win. People should appreciate that.”

“I am used to it. Besides.” The word is rolled around his mouth before it’s released like a bullet. “You know why they do it.” A pause, just. “They do not like me.”

If someone found them like this—Enea, maybe, or Bez is in the next press conference—if someone would just appear and release Pecco from this death spiral he’s locked in—but that would be worse, if this was discovered. Whatever this is.

“I am me,” Marc says. “There is not a lot I can do about that.”

Fucking—Pecco doesn’t want to begin unpacking that.

“You’re not him,” Marc continues, voice soft. It’s a hammer blow. This is how he does it, how he gets back at Valentino: quietly, wide smiles, delicately uncaring words. Whispers in the ears of his disciples.

Pecco, caught in the snare, doesn’t say anything. Can’t—can’t say anything.

“But I think maybe—” and Marc looks him up and down, strips him bare, vivisects him right there in the corridor outside the press room. “You already know that, no?”

By the time Pecco has his breath back, by the time he’s gathered his insides up from their pile at his feet, Marc is gone.

[rafaelsilvasource]

Husbands (we love typing that as much as you love reading it) T.K. (Ronen Rubinstein) and Carlos (Rafael L. Silva) are coming into the fifth and final season of 9-1-1: Lone Star (premiering Monday, September 23 on Fox) already dealing with the unsolved murder of the latter’s father. But there’s more drama to come.

Carlos’ obsession with that investigation is going to put their marriage to the test. T.K.’s half-brother, Jonah, is coming to Austin (which is sure to affect Rob Lowe‘s Owen as well). Below, co-showrunner Rashad Raisani previews that and more that’s ahead for the fan-favorite couple.

Carlos is investigating his father’s death. What can you preview about that investigation? That’s also going to involve Campbell (Parker Young), right?

The way we’ve been talking about Campbell and Carlos is that they’re like two brothers, the big brother and the little brother. Carlos comes along, and in Campbell’s mind, he got kind of a free pass because of who his dad, Gabriel Reyes, was, the legend, and to go to the front of the line and become a Texas Ranger. The first episode is about these two brothers both fighting for daddy’s love and daddy being Chief Bridges, their boss. But what’s gonna happen is they learn to respect each other and they’re gonna discover that they’re so much better when they work as a team and they really complement each other brilliantly, not just as investigators, but as characters and frankly to me, as actors. I think just they have a wonderful dynamic that only gets richer as the season goes forward.

Carlos’s father’s murder is a thing that Carlos is not giving that up. It is the central driving force in Carlos’ life. And there’s no way we’re going to end the series without giving that poor guy some answers. So there will be some answers at the end of the day on that.

The season description says that T.K. and Carlos’ marriage is put to the test because Carlos becomes obsessed with solving his father’s murder. What can you tease about how we see that play out and how tough things are gonna get in the middle of that for them? I do have faith that they’re gonna be okay by the end.

A big part for me about their marriage was I really wanted to treat it like a real marriage, and by that, I mean that even though these guys are so wonderful to each other and they’re so handsome, life isn’t perfect no matter who you are and everybody has real struggles that affect even great relationships. And the true strength of a relationship isn’t the absence of challenges and problems, it’s how you grapple with them and encounter them and if they make your relationship stronger or weaker.

And so for Carlos, this burden of his dad’s murder is going to sit there and take up a lot of oxygen in the room and T.K., who is an incredibly supportive husband, is gonna try and be patient and graceful and allow Carlos to have that space. But at a certain point, he’s got to advocate for them to have a future together, and that’s part of what you were talking about with Jonah. I like to think that little boy, in some ways, represents the future of their relationship and Gabriel’s murder represents the past of their relationship, and there’s gonna be a tension between those two things and that’s gonna be their central dynamic this year, is that one person is struggling to get answers in the past and the other person is struggling to move on and build a future, which I think is a very relatable human experience.

All of this makes me think about kids, and that has been a bit of an issue for them in the past. How does that come into play?

I think that’s another pressure point because Carlos was very upfront with T.K. about, “Hey, I’m not ready to have kids and I don’t know if I ever will be,” and then now that his dad’s been murdered, in his headspace, that’s the last thing that he’s got the bandwidth or the emotional energy to deal with. But like I said, T.K. is feeling like life is happening right now, like we don’t get moments back, and especially as a first responder, they see that you can’t take anything for granted. And circumstances are going to align that are going to [lead to] a situation where T.K. is like, I know that you were uncomfortable with taking this next step as a father, but I feel like it’s something powerful that I need to do, and to make that a crisis point for them as well.

I hope that the audience can see the argument from both of their points of view and just go, “S**t, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I would do either.” That’s what I hope because I feel like people have real problems that aren’t so simple as to say, well, he’s right, he’s wrong, whatever. We just wanted to put them through that.

[buttercupjosh]

The Perfect Proposal (the 4 times you expected that Mat was going to propose + the 1 time he actually did)

(Gif credit to @mattymartin)

word count: 1,968

genres: established relationship, fluff, self-insert

warnings: none

A/N: This story is based off of the song “Joy of My Life” by Chris Stapleton and I make references to this song throughout the story. I highly recommend listening to this song before reading my story. This story is short, sweet and fluffy. It’s not set at a specific moment in time (It’s taking place in a fictional future but you could also say that it’s set this upcoming season or even a past season). It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. This is not a sequel to Your Favorite Secret (which you can still read and check out and if you want this to be a sequel to that, you can interpret it that way). As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

“Someday it will come right on cue.” -Somewhere Love Is Waiting for You from the Schmigadoon TV series soundtrack

Prologue

Meeting Mat changed your life in the best way possible. You took Mat’s breath away when you met up for your very first date and since then, you continued to take his breath away in small doses every time you saw him. He added so much goodness and love into your life and you did the same for him. Mat felt so grateful to have you in his life and even though he made millions, being with you was his greatest treasure. You and Mat deeply appreciated each and every moment you had together, no matter how big or small it was; the two years that you had been together so far were some of your greatest times. You were both so smitten that you always looked at each other with such deep love and devotion and couldn’t get enough of your significant other’s presence. For a while, Mat knew that he wanted to propose to you but he just needed to figure out the best way how to and time when to ask that all-important question.

————————————————————

It finally happened. After 3 challenging years, you finally completed law school and earned your Juris Doctor degree from NYU. All of your friends and family came into town to celebrate your accomplishment. In order to accommodate everyone, Mat graciously rented a large AirBnb house in the Hamptons to host your graduation party. You handled some aspects of the party planning while Mat handled the rest and the party went very well. During the congratulations portion of the evening, Mat wanted to give a quick remark to acknowledge your achievement.

“For the past 2 years, I watched this wonderful person ambitiously work their way through law school. There were a lot of late nights, early mornings and so many case reviews and vocabulary study sessions that I think I could go get a law degree. Y/N, to say that I am proud of you is a massive understatement. My love, you are so amazing and you did it. I love you so much. Because I love you so much, I have a surprise for you.” Mat spoke.

This moment seemed like it was the right time for Mat to ask for your hand in marriage; you had been dating for a while, you lived together and blended your families together, and he had just finished a great speech that made all of the party’s attendees realize how much he was in love with you. Instead, Mat handed you an envelope. Inside the envelope was a copy of a check for the exact amount that you owed in student loans and a letter informing you that your loans were fully paid off. You couldn’t believe what was happening and began to cry.

“How did you do this?”, you mustered out through your tears of joy.

“So you know how you gave me access to your book of important information in case anything happened to you? Well, I asked Liana to call the loan office to pretend to be you and ask for your account balance”, Mat cheesily revealed.

Mat saw firsthand how much distress and frustration law school caused you so he wanted to help out someone he deeply loved by eliminating the stress of having to pay for a student loan; this surprise was better than an engagement ring.

————————————————————

After your graduation party and after the Islanders were eliminated from playoffs, it was the official start of the off-season. This year, it was a milestone birthday for Mat’s dad so the Barzal family decided to do a European summer vacation to celebrate. You were important enough to their family that you had been invited and Liana, Mat’s sister, also invited her best friend to accompany her on the trip.

Hand-in-hand with the man you considered to be the love of your life and his family, for 3 weeks, you explored England, France, Monaco, and Mat’s ancestral homeland of Italy. In England, you indulged in English culture while Mat hilariously attempted a British accent. In France, you shared plenty of kisses with your lover in the City of Love, swooning every time Mat spoke French. In Monaco, you and Mat felt like the protagonists of a spy thriller while hanging out in the city.

Once you arrived in Italy, you got to see a different side of Mat that rarely came out. He had been to Italy several times before but he was thrilled to share all that he knew about that special place with you. Mat glowed differently whenever you got authentic gelato together or when he swam in the waters along the Amalfi Coast. Of course, throughout the trip, you still spent plenty of time with Mat’s parents, sister, and her friend and attended a lovely birthday dinner on a boat for Mat’s dad while visiting Sicily.

On the plane ride traveling back to Canada after your whirlwind European tour, you thought to yourself that you were going to come back to North America with a new jewelry addition to your left hand; you did have a lot of date nights and one-on-one time with Mat on the trip. However, your wonderful boyfriend did get you a gorgeous Cartier love bracelet from the official store in Paris and you were returning back with the gift of good memories that were created with your future in-laws.

————————————————————

The remainder of the off-season went by so quickly; between weddings, summer holidays, and other events all happening, you and Mat were swept in so many different directions. Time flies when you’re having fun and soon, it was already time to return to Long Island for the hockey season.

The usual ups, downs, and chaos of the hockey season lingered in your household but you navigated through it together. As the season went on, you spent a lot of time studying for the Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam and Universal Bar Exam, which allowed you to become eligible to be admitted to the New York State Bar next year. Even though you had those responsibilities, you still supported Mat at most of his home games. One of the things about Mat that you loved was how he would always quietly tiptoe into your shared home after a late game but he loved how you always waited up for him to come home after every game, regardless of what time he returned. Before you both knew it, the year was winding down and it was almost Christmas time. You and Mat had decided to host Christmas this year and both of your families were coming. This wasn’t the first time that both of your families had been together to celebrate an occasion; they were there all together for your law school graduation earlier in the year and both sides enjoyed being together as one cohesive unit but for some reason, things felt different to you this holiday season.

You spent hours preparing and making sure that everything was right for the arrival of your guests. Christmas came and went wonderfully. It was so nice to have your families together during the holidays. You gifted Mat a new game day tie and a gift card to one of his favorite road restaurants; Mat got you a nice bag to carry all of your work things and a personalized padfolio for you to take all of your legal notes in.

Yes, you were secretly expecting a diamond underneath the tree this year but it was okay because you still got other great gifts as well. Despite wanting something else, you still deeply cherished the time you got to spend with your loved ones.

————————————————————

After the holidays were over, you and Mat settled back into your respective routines until it was All-Star Break. Mat was not chosen for the All-Star Game that year and some of the Islanders players and families decided to go to the Bahamas for their team All-Star Break trip. The time away gave you and Mat both some essential rest and relaxation. At the end of February, you were scheduled to take the Universal Bar Exam but you took a break from studying to enjoy your mini-vacation. You stayed with your lover and company at a phenomenal resort; you swam with dolphins, relaxed at the spa, and ate so much tasty food. You also enjoyed lots of group activities with Mat and his teammates and their respective significant others. During the trip, one of Mat’s best friends’, Anthony, and his long-term girlfriend, Emma got engaged. It stung a little to see someone else reach the relationship milestone you deeply desired to share with Mat and you had expected that it was going to be you and your lover’s turn to share that special romantic moment on this trip, however, you were happy for your friends.

————————————————————

One evening, you came home from a long, exhausting day of work. After passing both the Universal Bar Exam and Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam and completing some other requirements, you were admitted to the New York State Bar last month and got a job as a junior attorney. It was a pleasant surprise to see Mat cooking; he was subtly singing in the kitchen and tenderly caring for some handmade pasta. You couldn’t quite make out what song Mat was singing but it didn’t matter what it was because you had caught him singing songs that you’ve played around the house and pop songs from the radio plenty of times before. You smiled to yourself as watched him in his element before slipping away for a much-needed shower.

After you came out of the shower and changed, there was a beautiful plate of pasta waiting for you on the table. Mat tapped deep into his Italian heritage and made a delectable dinner for the two of you. You shared with Mat the details of work and although, he may not quite fully understand everything you were expressing your feelings about, he still listened to you as you rambled on. After dinner concluded, you and Mat were going to share a box of bakery cannolis and watch a movie on the couch but Mat told you to wait at the table and suddenly got up. He returned to the room with a look of nervousness on his face. You asked Mat if he was okay but you could tell that he had something important to say.

“I’ve been holding onto this ring for a while. There were so many other times that I wanted to ask but there’s just something that feels so right about this moment. Sitting here, I realized something very important. I want to spend the rest of my life, making you dinner when I can and listening to you speak. I want to continue to come home from my games to you and wake up next to you. I have the greatest honor of knowing and loving you. You have the sweetest heart that’s made of gold and you are like an angel brought down to Earth from Heaven. I want to be by your side forever. Y/N, you are the joy of my life. Will you marry me?” Mat declared while holding out the engagement ring of your dreams in a Tiffany blue box.

You were speechless because Mat was right; this was the perfect moment. You looked straight into Mat’s green eyes that you admired so dearly and accepted his marriage proposal; you were both super excited to embark on this new journey in your relationship. You and Mat swayed with each other to the sound of your fiance’s voice, serenading you to “Joy Of My Life” by Chris Stapleton, the same song Mat was singing to himself earlier. Patience was an important virtue and all of that waiting paid off at the right time.

[ivelle-serenity]

Skateboard 14

Wind breaker

fem bodied reader | smut | action | pwp | jayjo/fml | vinny/fml | wooin/fml | joker/fml | hyuk/fml | owen/fml | enemies to lovers | angsty | the other woman (?) | reverse harem | fluff | SLOW BURN! | all characters featured are 18+

author's note: this part uses third-person POV.

✧˖° — windbreaker men

✧˖° — mdni, smut, description of not safe for work content.

✧˖° — this is a story not one shot.

Wooin's vision darkened as he saw the two bouncers assigned to his condo sprawled on the floor. Joker's eyes widened in shock at the sight, and he rushed inside to check if Demitra was still there. He nearly broke down every door in his frantic search, desperate to see if anything had happened to her. But there was no sign of her anywhere. Wooin clenched his fist, knowing immediately who could be responsible for this.

"What’s going on here?" Hyuk asked, his voice dripping with boredom. He seemed unfazed by the sight of the two large men on the ground. "That looks bad," was all he managed to say, eyeing their battered faces.

"That bastard," Wooin growled, making his way down the stairs to find the man he suspected was behind it all. When he reached the bottom, he spotted Vinny sitting on a counter stool, casually drinking alcohol at this early hour, his gaze fixed on the TV. He was watching the race.

Rage surged through Wooin as he recognized Demitra on the screen. He knew it was her, even with the wig. No one could identify her like he could.

Without a word, Wooin grabbed Vinny by the collar and punched him hard in the face. Vinny didn’t even flinch, as if he had anticipated the blow. Instead, he just grinned. It wasn’t long before Joker and Hyuk appeared behind Wooin.

"You let her escape? Do you really want to die?" Wooin challenged, his voice laced with a threatening edge.

"I didn’t let her escape. I helped her get away," Vinny replied, his tone dismissive.

Joker’s ears perked up at that, and he stepped forward, gripping Vinny’s shirt tightly. "Why did you do that? Why?" he demanded fiercely. Vinny looked back at him with a blank expression.

"The girl wanted to go to the race. Who am I to say no? Besides, you keep telling me she’s a princess. A princess should be obeyed," he retorted arrogantly, tilting his chin defiantly.

"You piece of shit," Wooin spat. "Is this your way of apologizing for messing with her? Let me tell you, you’re a fool for doing that. She’s in danger and shouldn’t be involved in races, you asshole."

Vinny’s expression remained surprisingly neutral, despite the intensity of the situation. "That’s not my problem anymore."

Hyuk shook his head in disbelief, scoffing. "Idiot," he muttered before turning away.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

"I don’t know why I’m so nervous. We can’t possibly be picked, right? With so many crews, it’s practically impossible," Dom tried to reassure himself, laughter escaping his lips. Demitra was focused on the MC at the front, who was mixing the papers in a box. Jay couldn’t help but think she looked like she was performing some sort of ritual to ensure their team wouldn’t be selected.

June, on the other hand, stared intently at the large screen, swallowing hard as he considered whether he could really make it to the finish line. Deep down, he knew he was the most likely to lag behind. Jay glanced at the other crews and spotted the Monster team. Some members grinned smugly, while their leader wore a serious expression. Where was the Sabbath crew? Jay wondered, unease churning in his gut.

"I’m sure the Monster team will go first—"

"Ladies and gentlemen, the first team to race is the Hummingbird Crew!"

"Oh, fuck," Dom exclaimed, his shoulders sagging as disappointment washed over him. Demitra sighed, tightening her grip on her face mask. June took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. Jay, however, remained focused, his bike ready for action.

Based on what Demitra had watched, Shelly had stretched before her race, so she decided to do the same. She extended her arms while glancing at the large screen, where their team was being featured. She caught Jay looking at her for a moment, but he quickly averted his gaze. This left her confused—should she approach him and pretend to be Shelly?

"Just remember what I told you guys. We're going to win this," she declared, mounting her bike with a serious focus on the road ahead.

"I’m gonna mess this up, I just know it," Dom muttered under his breath.

"Stop saying that, Dom. We can do this," June reprimanded, though the nervousness in his eyes betrayed his words. Dom slapped his mouth, then shouted as if to motivate himself.

Demitra glanced at Jay, who appeared deep in thought. She had noticed his distracted demeanor since they arrived, as if he were lost in another world. She shrugged it off. Maybe he was just missing Shelly. Her gaze fell to the necklace he wore, but as soon as he caught her looking, she quickly averted her eyes.

"WOW! WE'RE TRENDING ON SOCIAL MEDIA! THIS IS SO EXCITING! IT LOOKS LIKE THE HUMMINGBIRD HAS PLENTY OF FANS!" the MC announced to the crowd, laughter evident in his voice.

A man stepped to the center of the stage, holding a small flag, ready to signal the start of the event.

Demitra tightened her grip on the handlebars. As the man in the center signaled the start, Dom took off first, followed closely by Jay, June, and finally her. The road was filled with large trucks, leaving barely enough space for them to race together. Demitra cursed under her breath as she realized the different types of trucks blocking the way. The organizers had clearly invested a lot of time and money into this race.

"And we can see that the Hummingbird team remains calm as Dom kicks off the race! Let’s see how long they can maintain that composure as they reach the most thrilling part of the competition!" the MC shouted, his voice booming over the crowd.

"Oh hell nah," Dom muttered under his breath as he spotted a truck with a trailer and an empty orange platform blocking the road. That was the only route available. He came to a halt, causing Jay to stop beside him.

"Show him first!" Demitra yelled to Jay. He immediately understood her cue and pedaled faster, lifting his bike to reach the truck's platform. There was only one way back to the road, and that was to ride up to the edge and drop down onto the ground below.

Now Demitra understood why Dom had hesitated. The drop from the platform was dangerously high.

"WOOAHH! THE SUPER ROOKIE DOES IT AGAIN! HE'S FLYING!" the crowd erupted with excitement. From a distance, Demitra saw Jay actually make it to the edge and drop his bike onto the ground. He stayed airborne for a moment, which only fueled the crowd’s cheers.

Demitra quickly glanced to the side of the truck, hoping for a way out for Dom and June. She knew they wouldn’t be able to handle such a high drop. A grin spread across her face when she noticed the truck's door was slightly open, offering a narrow escape route for them, even if it was a tight squeeze.

"Fuck it."

A gasp echoed through the crowd as Demitra stood up on her bike, determination etched on her face. With swift precision, she lifted one foot from the pedal, shifting her weight to the left side. In one fluid motion, she swung her left foot toward the truck's door, kicking it with all her might. The sound of splintering metal filled the air as the door broke free and swung wide open.

She quickly lifted her bike to avoid any damage, her eyes darting back to Dom, who was still trailing behind. With a fierce look of encouragement, she signaled him to move forward.

“What just happened? Did she really break that door so easily?” Mia exclaimed, disbelief flooding her voice as she watched the unfolding drama on the screen.

Minu’s face lit up with amusement. “She saw that the door was old and weak. She took the opportunity to break it, creating a path for Dom and June.”

“How did she even think of that?” Aria asked, eyes wide with surprise.

“Because she’s a princess,” Minu replied nonchalantly, causing his girlfriend to furrow her brow. He glanced at her, a silent understanding passing between them, but then looked away. Mia sensed there was something deeper between them that she couldn’t quite grasp, and she was eager to uncover it.

Meanwhile, in the office, Nick sat with Mr. Nam, watching the spectacle unfold on the TV. “She hasn’t changed at all,” he remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"One minute and thirty seconds left!" the announcer's voice echoed through the arena, and the tension surged.

Chaos rippled among the crowd. The spectators, engrossed in the race, didn't know where to look—at the ticking timer displayed on the screen or the Hummingbird crew racing against time. Teams who had already been disqualified from League of Street watched intently, their attention riveted on the extreme round, where Hummingbird was the first to take the plunge.

Then, the atmosphere shifted as Wooin arrived at the event. Eyes shifted toward him, murmurs spreading through the crowd.

"They're late. Good thing their team wasn't drawn from the box, or they'd be disqualified," some whispered.

But Wooin ignored them, his gaze locked on the screen where the camera focused on Jay Jo. His fist clenched at the sight. He knew this man was the reason his plans for Demitra had crumbled.

Joker appeared at his side. "We can't risk her being in trouble. We can't talk to her now," he reminded Wooin in a hushed tone.

Wooin smirked darkly. "Who said I'd talk to her?" he replied, his voice ominous as he glanced at Joker. "Soon, she'll realize we were right. She'll come crawling back, crying for us. I'll make sure of it." A sinister laugh escaped his lips.

"She will," Hyuk agreed, nodding beside him.

Meanwhile, on the track, Demitra licked her lips behind her facemask, eyes sharp with focus. "Dom, go!" she called out. Dom’s eyes blazed with determination as he accelerated toward the bowl area, June close behind him, and Demitra bringing up the rear. Jay was already near the finish line.

"We're right behind you, Dom!" June's voice broke the tension, steadying Dom's nerves as he began to falter, his pace slowing. The fear of not making it out of the bowl gripped him. But June’s encouragement gave him the strength to push through, despite the burning in his legs.

Finally, Dom burst out of the bowl, followed closely by June and then Demitra.

"Thirty seconds!" the announcer shouted.

Dom gritted his teeth. "Here we go, fuckers," he muttered, picking up speed, his bike roaring as he pushed forward. They were closing in on Jay now, the finish line coming into view.

"You can do it..." Mia whispered to herself, glued to the screen.

"They’re not gonna make it," Aria muttered nervously, her hands gripping the phone tightly.

Just as Dom and June neared the finish line, a loud horn blared, echoing through the track. Dom's eyes widened in horror as a massive truck sped toward them from the left side, aiming straight for Jay and Demitra.

"Watch out!" Dom screamed.

The truck was enormous, barreling down with terrifying speed. Demitra's heart raced, adrenaline flooding her veins as the looming vehicle threatened not just their bikes but their lives. Jay reacted first, jerking his handlebars to the side, riding up the wall to narrowly escape.

Demitra followed suit, leaning hard into a curve as her bike slipped just beneath the truck. She felt the sting as her elbow grazed the ground, the bike so low that it scraped the asphalt. She cursed under her breath, pain shooting through her arm.

"With 10 seconds to spare, Hummingbird crossed the finish line!"

[littlelamy]

the press tour: drew starkey x actress!reader

the press room is abuzz with energy as you and drew starkey take your seats for the latest interview on your movie better than friends. the film has been receiving rave reviews, and the chemistry between you and drew has sparked a whirlwind of speculation among fans. you’ve been fielding questions about your on-screen romance, but the real intrigue has been about your off-screen relationship.

the interviewer, a charismatic woman with a playful smile, wraps up the standard questions about the film. then, with a glint in her eye, she leans forward, clearly ready to stir the pot.

“so, better than friends,” she begins, her tone taking on a teasing edge. “it’s been quite a ride with you two on this press tour. the fans have been making all kinds of edits and posts, convinced there’s more going on between you two than just acting. care to address the rumors?”

you glance over at drew, who meets your gaze with a confident, almost challenging look. his arm is casually draped over the back of your chair, a touch that feels both intimate and reassuring.

“well,” you say, playing along with a mischievous grin, “there’s certainly a lot of chemistry between us. we’ve enjoyed working together, and that definitely translates on screen.”

drew chuckles, the sound low and warm. “yeah, the fans are pretty perceptive. they’ve been picking up on something we’ve been trying to keep under wraps.”

the interviewer’s eyes twinkle with curiosity as she leans in closer. “so, are you saying that there might be more to this relationship than meets the eye? the fans seem pretty convinced there’s a bit of reality behind those on-screen sparks.”

you give drew a sidelong glance, your fingers brushing lightly against his. it’s clear the interviewer is enjoying the flirtatious undercurrent of the conversation, and you can feel the excitement in the air.

“well, it’s true that there’s been some chemistry,” you say, allowing your voice to carry a hint of warmth. “and, you know, sometimes reality mirrors art in unexpected ways.”

drew’s hand finds yours under the table, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, his eyes never leaving yours. “i’d say the fans have been pretty spot on,” he adds, his voice low and filled with a playful tone. “there’s definitely been something going on between us that’s a little bit beyond just friends.”

the interviewer’s smile widens, clearly delighted by the admission. “so, is it safe to say that what we’re seeing on screen is just a hint of what’s actually happening off-screen?”

you laugh softly, the sound light and teasing. “i think it’s fair to say that the chemistry isn’t all just for show. we’ve got something pretty special going on.”

drew nods, his expression both tender and confident. “yeah, we’ve been keeping things private, but there’s definitely more to our relationship than just what you see in the film.”

the press room seems to hum with excitement as the news sinks in. cameras flash, and you can feel the buzz of anticipation from the fans who are watching this unfold. it’s a revelation that will have them talking for days.

the interviewer chuckles, clearly pleased with the direction the conversation has taken. “well, it sounds like the fans were right. it’s always nice to see that real-life connections can be even more compelling than what we see on screen.”

you and drew exchange a look of mutual understanding and satisfaction. the playful banter has brought your relationship into the spotlight, and you’re both ready to embrace this new chapter.

as the interview wraps up, the room is alive with the sound of flashing cameras and excited murmurs. you and drew stand up, his hand still lightly clasping yours. there’s a shared sense of exhilaration between you, and the moment feels electric.

the interviewer’s final words drift behind you as you and drew make your way out of the press room. the anticipation from the fans and the buzz of the press make the air feel charged, and you can’t help but glance at drew with a grin.

“that was quite the reveal,” you say, your voice a mix of excitement and satisfaction.

drew returns your smile, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “yeah, it was. i think we made a lot of fans very happy today.”

you step out into the quieter hallway, away from the clamor of the press. the adrenaline from the interview still buzzes in your veins, and you can feel the intensity of the moment lingering between you. drew pulls you gently towards him, the playful smile on his face softening into something more sincere.

“i’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” drew murmurs, his voice low and filled with affection.

you tilt your head, meeting his gaze. the hallway is dimly lit, the quiet atmosphere contrasting sharply with the energy of the press room. drew’s hand slides to the back of your neck, his touch gentle but possessive.

“do what?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper as you take in the closeness of his presence.

drew leans in, his eyes never leaving yours. “this.”

he closes the distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours. the kiss starts gentle, a tender exploration of the feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface. it’s a kiss that speaks of all the moments you’ve shared, the connection that goes beyond words.

as the kiss deepens, drew’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. your fingers tangle in his hair, and the world outside the hallway fades away. it’s just the two of you, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

when you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting gently against each other. there’s a shared smile, an unspoken understanding that this moment is special and perfectly timed.

“i guess the fans weren’t wrong,” you say softly, your fingers tracing along his jawline.

drew chuckles, his eyes shining with affection. “no, they definitely weren’t.”

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 21 Shade

(You can all blame @voidsentprinces and one of their posts for inspiring this one cuz I sure as heck am. Spoilers through Dawntrail.)

-

In the colorful forests of Kozama’uka, a strange movement of light green catches my eye. For a moment, I imagine.

“This one finds this forest so lively! Will these ones feast soon with the bright feathered ones again?”

It was a trick of the light on banana leaves. The shade of our little courageous one is gone again.

-

We’re still in Kozama’uka, but the roar of the waterfalls is below instead of above, and we’re trying to reach out to the bandits harassing the Potsworn.

I think of a boy with gold hair and an eager smile, no longer wearing blue. “You gave me a second chance, and I’ve never regretted it. We’ll find a way to help them, too!”

I blink, and realize the only resemblance in the bandit before me is that he’s young and blond. The shade of our foolishly brave boy is gone again.

-

I cross the bridge to Shaaloani, with its hot, dry plains rolling into the distance, eventually leading to grasslands in the northeast and craggy hills in the west, toward what was Yyasulani.

A Landsguard officer speaks an order, but in familiar tones, a comrade to his men. His voice stirs a memory, and my mind wanders again.

“We’re a long away from Quarrymill, but this reminds me in some ways of home. I bet you still hear thanks enough whenever you go back.”

I look at the soldiers laughing with each other before dispersing to their duties. The shade of our revolutionary captain is gone again.

-

The sky always seems so close in Worlar’s Echo. The Yok Huy see a few more traders these days. I’m watching the moon cross the sky when someone lights a pipe, the smoke wafting past my nose. Comfortable as I am, I’m halfway to dreaming already.

“Foolishness. We know what it is now, hardly deserving the veneration bestowed upon it for so long. And you surely have better things to do than mourn the likes of me.”

I turn to protest, but now I am fully awake and see the pelupelu merchants smoking and haggling. The shade of our spiteful witch is gone again.

-

There’s a sense of responsibility to the people afflicted with levin sickness, especially the children. I make sure that Oblivion is getting the families everything they need. I visit the first boy we met with this illness, and offer a treat of real fruit juice from the farms. It’s a good day, and he smiles as he sips, his mother smiling through her tears as he manages the straw.

“You learn to take what moments of happiness you can get. You figured out how to help the light afflicted and the tempered; this too will be defeated in time. But find the little victories where you can meanwhile.”

I look up from the boy’s bed. It’s just him, his mother, and me in the room. The shade of our fierce carer is gone again.

-

I’m still awake in the pre-dawn hours, so take a mug of mate with me to the end of the boardwalk to watch the dawn. The endless blue of the water, with the light piercing into my eyes, makes me remember a similar sight at the end and start of everything.

“There is no true challenge in this land. ‘Tis a wonder you are not bored. But you always have found meaning and pleasure in people and their small matters.”

The sun continues rising and the city wakes. The shade of my antagonistic mirror is gone again.

I finish my mate, return to my cabin, and go to bed.

-

They come and go, these ghostly memories. Some not as much as they used to, since that journey into the aetherial sea. Perhaps their aid and that last chance to say goodbye made a difference.

Maybe I am simply sentimental.

“The burden of heroes and leaders,” one of my newer ones says. “We spend all our time fighting for their lives and happiness, and feel it keenly when we fail them. Yet they helped to shape us, and so stay with us. And we strive to do better by those who come after them.”

I look up, but the shade of that heroic father is gone, the echo of his boisterous laugh ringing through his city’s streets, in his daughter’s own laughter. She waves to me now, her brother, her nephew, and our comrades with her. They are all exuberant and bright and alive, with so much possibility ahead.

I laugh as I wave to my friends.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

LOL I can imagine for vampire au Lando starting to third wheel Carcar and so even though turning Franco is a complete accident he can’t feel too guilty bc he uses it as an excuse to hang around someone else, and somehow he learns more about vampirism lore through a human grad student than he’s learned in his whole life (he’s lived a long time, lots of info to absorb). Then also, if you don’t mind my ask, what do they all do for jobs/how do they get money and would Franco keep studying ?

HELP this is so cute. ok. norpinto-frando vampire au for those who aren't up to speed...

Lando starting to third wheel Carcar and so even though turning Franco is a complete accident, [Lando] can’t feel too guilty bc he uses it as an excuse to hang around someone else -> screaming cus, absolutely. random associated headcanons for this... i'll rewind a bit:

carlos is the oldest vampire, like, moorish/medieval era. he met lando while they were both at a masquerade ball in the early 1600s and smelled each other right away (carlos like wood and ink, lando like gas lamps and wet stone).

lando is an tudor era vampire. like he actually knew shakespeare and said he was one of the best viral marketers of the era

oscar was turned in the early days of the australian penal colony, he's like first or second generation white australian but he refuses to be called british. he moved in to the house because the rent was cheap and he doesn't feel the need to live extravagantly -- even though he, too, is $$ loaded $$

oscar didn't move in until about two decades ago - very short by vampire standards, to them it feels like yesterday - but carlos and oscar are basically They Were Roommates atp even though they squabble con-stant-ly

their neighbours think they are a new age-y polyam group but because the people who live opposite them are students, nobody ever hangs around longer than a year to remember them or dig deeper

so franco definitely brings a fun funky fresh dynamic

he learns more about vampirism lore through a human grad student than he’s learned in his whole life (he’s lived a long time, lots of info to absorb) -> things that baby vamp!franco teaches lando include

tiktok trends, like how to make ur teeth comically large in photos. lando finds this hilarious

how to use venmo

creating a roster on google docs for who needs to do what house chores

jailbreaking an apple watch so it doesn't read their pulses (they don't have any), but it will remind them of the moon phases and when they might be extra hungry to feed

at one point franco actually puts his academic skills to use and helps lando hunt down some of his family tree, because since lando was turned and it's been so long, he doesn't remember much about them : ( so one of franco's little gifts to lando is helping him trace his heritage

what do they all do for jobs/how do they get money and would Franco keep studying ? -> i love how practical-minded you are. um well let's say this fictional supernatural creatures' market mostly runs on barter trades and goodwill agreements. the entire house sometimes just gets lazy tbh so lando or carlos will just dig into one of the old chests of random shit and pull out an antique and go: "do we think this is worth anything?" then they take it to an antiques dealer who is also a mage (alex albon) and there is a 1 in 25 chance that the antique is actually is worth something, so that bankrolls them for another half a year or whatever.

carlos makes a lot of noise about being "an art dealer" just because he sold a goya painting to a museum once.

oscar is a man of industry, of the "newer" world (australia) etc etc so he spent the 80s and 90s learning C++ and Java and Python so he legit just codes for a living. or when he feels like it. oscar has helped launch at least a dozen startups under various pseudonyms and one of them is even a blue chip company by now. he doesn't do it for money tho. he just does it cus he likes a challenge, and otherwise fights with carlos too much. when he isn't coding he likes to tinker and fix things just for fun. like, he legit knows how to fix a boiler and stuff. his familiar is definitely a grumpy orange neighbourhood cat.

franco keeps studying!! he is such a nerd that he's like "i can totally learn everything about anything now, and i could in theory do like 20 masters degrees, and nobody can stop me"!! then lando is like, "well you might get bored of it after a while or burn out". but franco insists he will not. in fact with his enhanced neurological abilities he goes on an academic bender trying to fast forward through an entire harvard's undergrad degree's worth of material in a week, and he ends up faceplanting on his desk. and then poor lando has to go and find a fresh chicken or something to kill and revive franco 'cus franco wore himself out too fast being a bb vampire with accelerated mind powers.

franco promises never to do that again (but of course he will continue to do it once in a while, and everyone still looks after him in his lil study hangovers because he is so very nice. also he taught them how to use venmo.)

and. one time. franco is like. "i can't find this rare sonnet do you know what library i could maybe locate it in" and lando is like "wait i know that one" and pulls out an honest to god original copy that he at some point got laminated in the early 80s. and franco is like. "um i think this should be in a museum??" and lando is like "yeah but i gave them a copy of this, cus i spilled ink on the corner of this in 1603 after a really good night out" and franco is like "???? ok ????"

then lando swans off to moodily stare at the moon or some shit.

[portraitofcas]

Ellie Williams x BPD! Reader? 🙏 Forever appreciative! <3

okay pretty please tell me if anything is wrong or offensive because im going based off of research. 🤕

i imagine this scenario with jackson!ellie lowk! i think that even though she didn’t understand very much about bpd, she’d try. sometimes you’ll find her with some random big ass book that she’d borrowed from somewhere and she’s writing down some small notes; just basic stuff and whatnot.

you and her had been in somewhat of an odd on-and-off kinda relationship for a while now, and she would always wait for you. she’s right back where she was standing when you’d made a decision to dump her for a reason you were too angry to tell her about. your judgement was clouded whenever this happened, and even if she wanted to talk to you about it, she knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park. it would be hard, she knew that.

when you’d first told ellie you were into her, you explained how it could be ‘difficult’, yet she wasn’t backing down from the challenge. even when you lash out at her or while on patrol, you’d run off on a whim or throw yourself into danger without a second thought, she was always there to catch you. she knew that you hated feeling helpless with her but in your heart, you understood that she was the only one who would be there to catch you when you fell.

sometimes when you were disassociating with yourself horribly, she brings you over to her house where you stay up all night, watching joels old vhs tapes, playing video games and reading comics. ellie stays up for most of the night to ensure that you’d be okay. she was also precautious enough to put away anything you could hurt yourself with. you had woken up at, maybe three pm when a feeling of existential dread washed over you. voices clamored in your head, telling you that you didn’t deserve her or that you weren’t worthy of her companionship.

your body seemed to move on its own, but you were frantic and searching. you throw the blankets off of your body to ransack her bathroom for anything. even her closet. but you find nothing.

obviously, the banging, dropping, thumping and constant creaking of the floorboards alerts ellie before she realizes you’re having those thoughts again. she’s tired but she’s rushing over to you.

“what’re you doing up so late, hm?” she approaches you calmly. “so now you hide all your shit from me? what, you can’t trust me or something?” you accused her angrily. she shakes her head. “that’s not it.” “fuck you, ellie! you obviously don’t trust me!” you shouted at her. the words hurt, but she deduced it to nothing more than an episode. she approached you slowly, embracing you softly. you two are both sat on the cool tile of her kitchen floor. she let you say whatever you needed to get out of your system until the early hours of the morning. you were still going on, and she was fast asleep. she has a damn good grip on you.

[misfit-mccoward]

oh wait here's breasted boobily deidara/konan: extended version

The thing about “straight” women and Deidara is that they always end up in a public bath or a hot spring together. And, given Deidara has a habit of sitting around at those with the back of her hand laying out on the seat next to her, they always end up accidentally sitting on her hand. It’s happened to Deidara at least eight times. 

So, when the hot water at the Akatsuki base breaks, Deidara figures it’s only a matter of time before it happens again. She puts on a full face of makeup and heads to the public baths. 

Because the universe caters to Deidara, all the people in the bath when she arrives are attractive ladies in their twenties and thirties, plus one smoking hot woman in her fifties who’s probably unappreciated by husband and hasn’t actually orgasmed in years. Deidara makes sure everyone gets to see her bend over in her thong as she undresses, and she spends a very long time rubbing soap suds over her breasts as she bathes. Everyone’s eyes are on her, and she figures her chances of getting laid are high. She happily breasts boobily over to the baths to soak. 

I hope it’s the MILF, Deidara thinks as she settles into the water. Her boobs float up in front of her. I love older women. 

The woman who comes to sit with her is a very pleasant surprise instead. Deidara only waits a few minutes before Konan shows up, walking into the bath part of the bathing facility wrapped in a tiny towel. Deidara’s breath hitches. No way will ice queen Konan go for this. 

Oh but god, what if she did? Konan is one of the hottest women Deidara has ever met. She rubs her thighs together in anticipation. 

There’s a handful of other women in the bath, and Konan eyes them briefly before stepping into the bath and heading toward Deidara. She drops her towel at the side of the bath. Deidara is excited to see that Konan’s neatly trimmed pubes are the exact same indigo blue as her hair, and that her belly button is pierced. Deidara doesn’t know much about piercings, but Konan has multiple dotting her stomach in a star of metallic beads. Konan’s stomach is toned around the pretty piercings, although her hips are round and soft looking. Deidara watches, entranced, as the water line raises up around Konan’s thighs as she steps into the bath and walks across it to Deidara. 

Deidara holds her breath, and Konan sits next to her. Like all straight girls in this situation, Konan manages to accidentally sit vag first on Deidara’s hand. Deidara’s hand tongue has been lolling out, drifting in the water of the bath, and it slides in between Konan’s folds without Deidara having to do anything. 

Usually, the girl’s eyes will widen in surprise, and she’ll make some cute little squeaky noises as she bounces around on Deidara, confused and aroused by what’s happened. Konan’s gaze just lowers thoughtfully in the direction of her lap. Deidara is too wound up in anticipation of Konan’s reaction to actually move her tongue. 

“Hmm,” Konan says. Deidara stares at her, frozen. 

The seats in the bath are benches, detached from the sides of the bath. Konan rotates to the side, wedging one leg between the wall of the bath and the bench as she faces Deidara, straddling her hand. Her cunt is fully against the hand mouth now, and Konan shifts her hips slightly, grinding herself against Deidara even as her posture remains perfectly straight, her face impassive. 

“There are people watching us,” Konan murmurs, but her expression gains a hint of a challenge. She reaches forward, taking Deidara’s free hand in hers, and guides it under the water between her legs. “Don’t be loud.”

Deidara wedges her fingers not trapped by Konan’s thighs between her other palm and Konan, so she can dip them into Konan and finger her clit. Konan watches her from under hooded eyes. With Konan expressionless, Deidara has no way to judge if her efforts are actually working, but instead of being frustrating, this just excites Deidara. Can she make the ice queen break? Even just a little moan or a sigh or a twitch would make her day. 

While she massages her clit, Deidara tongues Konan’s opening, shoving herself as far in as she can and licking against Konan’s walls in search of a g-spot. When Deidara had been trying to solve the mystery of why the average dick here was smaller than in her world, or why sex wasn’t automatically happening by her just sitting on someone’s bed or locking herself in a closet with them, she’d found out that a lot of woman couldn’t seem to orgasm just from penetration and that doctors weren’t even sure the g-spot was real. 

Deidara felt so bad for the vaginas of this world. If she could, she would fuck every single one, and find every single g-spot for them. 

Of course, it wasn’t fair to just rely on penetration, which was why Deidara dutifully fingers Konan’s clit, rolling her finger tips around it and then rubbing them over it, eyes searching Konan’s face for a reaction. Even under the water, Deidara can feel that Konan is wet for her, her own fluids thicker and slicker than the water. 

When she finally gets a reaction, it doesn't actually reach Konan’s face. Instead, when Deidara finally hits her g-spot, Konan’s thighs tense and her walls contract around her. Deidara hits it again, pressing her tongue into it as hard as a tongue can and circling it, finding its edges and then pushing its middle over and over, and Konan reaches up and sets a hand on Deidara’s shoulder. 

Konan doesn’t make a sound, but her eyes slide close and her face relaxes into something Deidara would describe as ecstasy. 

“Don’t stop,” Konan murmurs, and then bits of paper start detaching themselves from her shoulders and upper chest, and Deidara tongues her harder and harder, imagining she’s fucking Konan so hard and so good that she’s literally falling apart. 

The paper pieces whip around them and across the bath house, and someone screams, Bees! There’s chaos, which always excites Deidara, and she tries actively lifting her hand up, allowing her tongue to go even deeper and causing Konan to bounce. Konan lets Deidara bounce her, the sound of her breasts splashing against the water joining the chaos of people fleeing from “bees,” and her serene expression remains unbothered. Konan sets her other hand on Deidara’s shoulder as well, and a few minutes later, the room is finally empty. Konan finally allows herself one long, shuddering sigh as she orgasms, and Deidara can feel her walls contracting around her tongue. Konan’s thighs go limp over Deidara. 

Deidara smirks back at her. 

“Still straight?” Deidara dares to tease. 

Konan eyes her up and down, then reaches over and dips her hands into the water and under Deidara’s breasts. She lifts them up, so Deidara’s nipples just barely peek up from the water, and then Konan plays with them, lifting one and then the other, watching them jiggle with only mild interest. 

“These didn’t interest me before,” Konan says, squeezing them with her perfect manicured nails. “But lately I have been thinking about them.”

Deidara is secretly very pleased by this. Of course her boobs are the center of the universe. 

Then Konan stands, cupping Deidara’s chin in her hand and forcing Deidara to look up at her. Konan leans down and kisses her, her tongue slipping into Deidara’s mouth. Her tongue is pierced too, and the metal ball knocks against Deidara’s teeth as Konan enters her, her tongue tasting metallic. Deidara sucks it for her, imagining what it would feel like to be eaten out with the piercing. She wiggles against the bench, turned on and desperate. 

When she breaks the kiss and straightens back up, Konan says, “You’re cute.”

Konan leaves. Deidara watches her ass openly as she strides off, touching herself under the water. 

[lilbittymonster]

Day 20: Duel

Read on AO3

A dusting of snow drifted across the roof as Kitali paced listlessly along the top. The camp had decidedly wound down, efforts focusing on healing the wounded and maintaining supplies. Hardly anything she could help with. It didn’t help that the land was so barren there was almost nothing worth seeing.

She pivoted on a heel as she reached the edge of the roof to walk back the other way, and stopped just short of running into Estinien.

“D’you need something?” she asked.

“You’re getting restless,” he observed. “Come spar with me.”

“What, already run through the rest of the camp?”

He shrugged. “There’s no challenge to it if I have to worry about pulling all my punches. I know you can handle me at my worst.”

A smirk pulled at her lips. “Just out of curiosity, how many shinobi have you fought before?”

“None,” he answered. “Why?”

Her smirk grew wider. “You want a challenge, yeah?”

Estinien’s eyes narrowed in suspicion but he couldn’t hide an answering smile. “I do.”

Without another word, Kitali turned around and stepped off the roof, landing lightly on her feet and startling a nearby Serpent. She strode with haste to her quarters and began rifling through her pack for the folded set of clothes she had tucked away, just in case.

Though the cloth was heavy, it felt almost too thin in the climes of Garlemald, not that the cold could touch her as much as it should have. Compared to the weight of her armour, the air on her bare shoulders and through the thin links of the arms was freeing. Her twin daggers at her hips, she made her way back outside into the snow.

Thancred was passing by as she walked to the north gate, and he did a double take at her clothing.

“Going somewhere?” he asked in amusement.

“Estinien said he wanted a challenge, so I’m going to give him one.”

He raised a brow. “Now this I have to see,” he said, falling into step behind her.

Estinien was waiting a little ways down the hill, narrowing his eyes as he saw Thancred behind her.

“Don’t worry, I’m only here to spectate,” Thancred assured him, taking up a post against one of the nearby trees. “It’s not often I get to watch the show, as it were.”

Estinien turned to Kitali again. “Right, then. Best of three?”

Kitali laughed. “Oh, that’s going to be over far too quick.”

“That confident, are you?” he said, backing away from her and taking his lance into hand.

“I am,” she retorted easily.

“One way to find out.”

Once he was a good ten paces away, Kitali summoned up a wind to whip up the snow into a flurry around her, blowing outwards, and in the second of his blinded distraction, she surged forward to punch into his stomach.

“One,” she counted.

Immediately she spun around to tap the flat of a blade against his back.

“Two.”

Completing the circle, she held the back of a dagger up to his exposed throat.

“Three.”

Estinien stared down at her incredulously.

“How in the Fury’s-”

“I told you,” she sing-songed at him.

His nostrils flared indignantly. “So you did.”

“And here I thought I was going to be entertained,” Thancred called sarcastically to them.

They looked at him, then at each other.

“Well, shall we give him a show?” Estinien asked quietly.

“You wanted a challenge, didn’t you?”

Kitali backflipped so there was a good amount of distance between them once more. He followed almost immediately with a leap of his own, the air whooshing by as the blade of his lance cut through it. It felt like dancing the way she would twist and dart to avoid him by ilms, the way he would leap in and away again. It almost reminded her of the way Arienne would investigate anything new brought into the house the way he seemed to be assessing her.

After several passes of her getting within reach and slipping past his defense only for him to leap upward out of her grasp, Kitali was getting bored.

“You said I could handle you at your worst,” she taunted. “I know this isn’t it.”

“Don’t say you didn’t ask for it,” he shouted back.

The outline of him shimmered before shade after shade of himself broke off and launched into the air. Kitali threw her head back and laughed in delight before summoning her own wall of duplicates before her.

“Oh, come on!” Estinien yelled in exasperation.

Kitali blinked across the field while their respective shadows battled each other into dissipation, taking advantage of his distraction to land another blow to his side. The clink of the flat of her blade skidded along his breastplate as he just managed to evade her next strike. He swung out with his arm and caught her against her chest, sending her flying. She landed square on her back, and she used the momentum to roll backwards onto her feet again.

“Got any other tricks up those sleeves of yours?” he called.

Not taking her eyes off of him she slid her body through the familiar movements. Pulling the heavens down to meet the earth was as natural as breathing by now. The bolt struck the ground directly next to him, the resounding clap of thunder stunning him into stillness.

“I see,” was all he said.

With a wicked grin, the familiar red smoke began to surround him as he leapt up into the air. Kitali waited, and waited, and at the last second jumped into the air as he impacted the ground where she was standing not a moment before. She twisted her tail to direct herself back down onto his back, but he managed to flip and roll them so she was pinned beneath him. The snow next to her neck crunched as he stabbed the blade of his lance into it.

“My win,” he said triumphantly.

Kitali gave him no time to gloat, blinking through space to several yalms above him and twisting midair again to land on her feet. He had barely turned to face her when she blew a wreath of flame from her lips, melting the snow and ice around him into a slick surface. With a flick of her wrist the freshly melted water swirled up in ropes to wrap around his legs up to his waist, and then it was frozen again in thick crystals of ice.

“You sure about that?”

He struggled against the ice, the splinters spreading as the ice groaned under the strain. After a moment, and with a sound of shattering glass, he jumped free. Kitali didn’t even bother to deflect the next flurry of blows he sent her way, only dodging and ducking away at the last second.

“Seven hells, Kitali,” he growled. “What did they do to you in Doma?”

She just huffed out a laugh as she sidestepped another thrust.

“Getting tired, yet?” she teased.

“Hardly.”

In a blink of an eye she was behind him again. She spun on her heel with an arm up to deflect the blow she knew was coming. While she had an opening, she swung around with the other arm to hit his exposed side. Estinien was quick to pull the shaft of his lance over her head and across her chest, holding her snug against him and pinning her arm.

“Got you,” he said smugly.

“Do you, now.”

In a blink she was a yalm in front of him again, already circling back around to his right, neatly dodging the butt of the spear as he swung it up towards her. With an arcing slice, he brought the lance down at her, and Kitali was forced to bring up both knives to catch the blow. The wicked red blade was mere ilms from her, and already her arms were trembling under the full weight of him. Shifting her weight to her toes instead of her heels she allowed herself to slide backwards across the frozen ground.

“You haven’t learned, have you?” she panted before quickly sidestepping out from under him, rolling him forward on his own momentum.

To her surprise, he caught himself at the last second and spun, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her to him again.

“I learn just fine, thank you,” he said as he towered over her.

Before she could protest or move, his other arm locked behind her and he launched them both backwards into the air. Someone was laughing, and Kitali couldn’t tell which of them it was. The world tilted as they reached the apex and began to descend, and a small thrill of fear ran up her spine at not being able to see where they’d land.

Their descent was halted quite abruptly in a cloud of white powder. She kept laughing into his chest, the sound bubbling out of her with an edge of mania tinging it. Estinien’s rare gravelly wheeze of a laugh pressed against her hair as he continued to hold her.

Once the laughter and excess energy finally dwindled, Kitali rolled onto her back, a small cascade of snow falling into her face. Pushing her hair out of the way, as well as another clump of snow, she looked over to Estinien who was looking far too pleased with himself.

“You’re a right piece of shit, you know that?”