#tori looks so beautiful

[auranovabloggers]

Tori Lugosi Tepes

Some gift art I made for my friend Tori of her vampire OC! She doesn't have a Tumblr, but she does have a twitter:

I recommend giving her a look as she makes some incredible art and is quite skilled and full of passion for her hurt. 🥰🦇 I made this gift art on a whim as I wanted to not only practice more, but also because I do like Tori's OC. Bewitching beauty, fangs, and vampire? Yes please, I'll have some of that. 🥺🙏 Was overall an enjoyable experience making this and she was extremely hyped to see this. :3

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

Oh my god she really is a fucking tory 😭😭😭 i've never been so devastated before in my life what the hell 😭😭😭

[ihrttherain]

me when im reading solitaire and realise ill never find a bond like tori and michael where they understand each other to such a deep level that it feels like they were fated to be together.

[wataeicentric]

whoever was spamming shit like "boringggg" and "worst mv ever" when dreaming ocean was revealed on tsukisuta i genuinely hope you have the worst day ever 😭

[floweyvalley]

WHY DIDNT I KNOW AB THIS BORDER????

[mirthcrowned]

i'm reading lolita and amazed that humbert humbert introduces his ped*philic ideas so early on, perpetuates them in the text (through prose, no less, which is equally disgusting), and yet people still miss the entire point

[reasoningdaily]

My former U.S. Track and Field teammate Tori Bowie, who was found dead in her home in Florida on May 2, of complications related to childbirth at 8 months pregnant, was a beautiful runner. She was effortless. At the Rio Olympics, I ran the second leg of the 4 x 100 relay. Tori was the anchor. When she got the baton, I remember thinking, “it’s over.” She just accelerated. When she crossed the finish line, I couldn’t wait to run over to her to celebrate. It was her first, and only, Olympic gold medal.

She also picked up a silver (in the 100-m) and bronze (200-m) in Brazil. The next year, at the 2017 World Championships in London, Tori won the 100-m title, earning the title of “world’s fastest woman.” Tori started out as a long jumper. So seeing her thrive as a sprinter was a huge deal. She was just such a bright light, and people were getting to see that.

Tori grew up in Mississippi and had this huge Southern accent. She didn’t take herself too seriously. You felt this sense of ease when you were around her. I last saw her in early 2021, in San Diego, where she was training. She gave me the biggest hug; something about her spirit was just very, very sweet. I felt her sweetness come over me that day.

Tori was 32 when she died. According to the autopsy, possible complications contributing to Bowie’s death included respiratory distress and eclampsia—seizures brought on by preeclampsia, a high blood pressure disorder that can occur during pregnancy. I developed preeclampsia during my pregnancy with my daughter Camryn, who was born in November 2018. The doctors sent me to the hospital, where I would deliver Camryn during an emergency C-section, at 32 weeks. I was unsure if I was going to make it. If I was ever going to hold my precious daughter.

Like so many Black women, I was unaware of the risks I faced while pregnant. According to the CDC, in 2021 the maternal mortality rate for Black women was 2.6 times the rate for white women. About five days before I gave birth to Camryn, I was having Thanksgiving dinner with my family. I mentioned that my feet were swollen. As we went around the table, the women shared their experiences during pregnancy. My cousin said she also had swollen feet. My mom didn’t. Not once did someone say, ‘oh, well, that’s one of the indicators of preeclampsia.’ None of us knew. When I became pregnant, my doctor didn’t sit me down and tell me, ‘these are things that you should look for in your pregnancy, because you are at a greater risk to experience these complications.’

That needs to change, now, especially in light of Tori’s tragic passing. Awareness is huge. Serena Williams had near-death complications during her pregnancy. Beyoncé developed preeclampsia. I hate that it takes Tori’s situation to put this back on the map and to get people to pay attention to it. But oftentimes, we need that wake-up call.

The medical community must do its part. There are so many stories of women dying who haven’t been heard. Doctors really need to hear the pain of Black women.

Luckily, there’s hope on several fronts. Congress has introduced the Momnibus Act, a package of 13 bills crafted to eliminate racial disparities in maternal health and improve outcomes across the board. California passed Momnibus legislation back in 2021. These laws make critical investments in areas like housing, nutrition, and transportation for underserved communities. Further, several pharmaceutical companies are making advances on early detection and treatment of preeclampsia.

Three gold medalists from that 4 x 100 relay team in Rio set out to become mothers. All three of us—all Black women—had serious complications. Tianna Madison has shared that she went into labor at 26 weeks and entered the hospital “with my medical advance directive AND my will.” Tori passed away. We’re dealing with a Black Maternal Health crisis. Here you have three Olympic champions, and we’re still at risk.

I would love to have another child. That’s something that I know for sure. But will I be here to raise that child? That’s a very real concern. And that’s a terrifying thing. This is America, in 2023, and Black women are dying while giving birth. It’s absurd.

I’m hopeful that things can get better. I’m hopeful that Tori, who stood on the podium at Rio, gold around her neck and sweetness in her soul, won’t die in vain.

—as told to Sean Gregory

[forlix]

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 (besides myself)・l.f.

— you spend three years loving him, six months losing him, and four hours waiting for him to get the hell out of your house. but the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

words・5.4k

pairing・lee felix x gn!reader

genres・babysitter!au, girldad!lix, nobody look at me, toothrotting fluff, more angst than originally intended tbh, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, happy ending yayyy, non-linear storyline

warnings・cousin has a korean name and experiences one (1) minor head bump, mc is temporarily heartbroken and experiences one (1) breakdown

playlist・house song by searows・glad by tori kelly・let's pretend by del water gap・you were good to me by jeremy zucker

a/n・hiiii my loves, i'm so unbelievably excited to bring u my first contribution to my and @astraystayyh's collaboration, "winter falls" ♡ every time i write for our ray of sunshine i'm reminded of how thankful i am to love him. this fic ruined me. hope it does the same to you (smile)

I. everything

“One day,” you muttered to the toddler sitting on your shoulders, “you’ll experience something deeply, irreversibly humbling, and I’ll be there to witness your downfall.”

Byeol responded to this with an unbothered babble. She then gathered two handfuls of your hair and yanked using far too much force to be biologically possible.

You folded like a lawn chair. “Mother—!”

Oh, that word was not suitable for button-sized ears.

“—oh, my dear mother, why? Why me?”

Technically speaking, your aunt should’ve been the target of your lamentations, but all she did was produce the child presently steering you around the kitchen like you were her own personal bumper car. Your own mother was the one who volunteered you to watch said child during the first weekend of your winter break. Only for an hour until the babysitter arrives, she’d said (raising her voice, so as to be heard over your groaning).

You adored Byeol. She made scarily accurate chipmunk sounds and possessed an immobilizing fear of grapes. She bust out a dance move before she took her first steps. The girl could have you floored with laughter without being able to say more than three words at a time. Still, this was far from how you imagined onsetting your desperately-needed few weeks off. Not to mention it was now half past three; your shift should’ve ended two minutes ago.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Byeol emitted an excited onomatopoeia like a golden retriever detecting the mailman. Your reaction wasn’t too far off; you swiveled your head in the sound’s direction, sang out “coming!” in a delighted vibrato, and twirled into the foyer, your hands around Byeol’s ankles anchoring her in place.

You cracked open the door and found yourself face-to-face with Byeol’s babysitter. The freckles scattered across his high cheekbones and sloping nose seemed to you like they were imprinted by the sun itself. His hair was dark, falling just shy of pitch black, and long, ending an inch or so below pierced ears. A few misbehaving strands rested over his forehead but did little to obstruct your view of his eyes: profoundly brown and pointed at either end, like poinsettia petals.

He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You felt your skin warm, your heart flip. You opened your mouth. 

Then Byeol hit her head against the vertical edge of the front door, loud enough for it to echo.

The panic that seized you in that moment was truly unlike anything you’d experienced before. You caught one glimpse of the stranger’s expression (as mortified as you expected), and then you were seeing your own epitaph on the inside of your eyelids, engraved with the four words “Death by Furious Aunt.”

“Was that—?” The man sputtered, and his voice was rich and full and accented and just as breathtaking as the rest of him and holy fucking shit now was not the time.

“My fucking god,” you whispered, completely forgetting to watch your mouth. In a hurry, you swung Byeol off your shoulders and dropped to a knee. You leaned in close to examine her reddening forehead and cradled the plush of her cheek; she blinked at you a few times, fascinated by the sudden sight of your face again.

“You okay, Byeollie? That hurt a lot, didn’t it? I’m so, so sorr—”

Byeol started to laugh.

Not laugh as in those little chuckles she let out randomly, like there was something inherently amusing about the kitchen cupboard, but laugh as in a boisterous, resounding guffaw, like a great-uncle at a family gathering off one too many martinis.

This rendered you speechless for the second time in under a minute. Then, you lifted your other hand to cradle her other cheek, her face now sandwiched between your palms, and squeezed.

“I broke my cousin,” you whispered, your voice was so deathly serious that the man in the doorway had to stifle a laugh of his own.

His knee brushed against your shin as he sat down to your left, folding his legs into a criss-cross. You could discern notes of lavender and orange blossoms in the delicate cologne that clung to him, perforated the air and your mind both.

“Can I?” He asked.

“Please.”

Carefully, you shifted Byeol’s small frame towards him; the manner in which he accepted her was so smooth and practiced that there was no doubt in your mind you were watching a professional at work. He settled her on his right knee, then dipped his head to look her in the eye.

“Hi, princess,” he cooed with a dulcet smile. He curved his pointer finger, dusted it beneath her chin. “Why are you laughing, silly girl?”

Oh.

Oh.

You might just continue your lineage after all.

“Y/N-ie,” she answered, still tittering.

He looked to you with a slight tilt to his head, and you nodded affirmatively. He murmured a quiet ah. “What about Y/N-ie?”

Somehow you sensed that she was about to embarrass you and pinched the bridge of your nose—in preparation.

“P-pretty.” I knew it!

The man let out the laugh he’d been holding back since earlier and tapped on her button nose, lowered his voice to a whisper that he knew you could hear.

“I agree.” His eye glinted playfully, matching his tone. “And so are you.” The bashful, high-pitched giggle she responded with sounded eerily similar to your inner monologue.

The two of you spent a little longer on the floor of the foyer making sure Byeol was okay, and then the girl upped and made a mad dash for the kitchen while yelling something about a horse, and if that didn’t confirm that she was completely fine (albeit incredibly strange) you didn’t know what would. You found her rolling around the carpet in the room adjacent to the kitchen and left her to her own devices while you and her babysitter fixed up a small fruit plate for her afternoon snack. No grapes, of course.

He told you he usually went by Felix, but that his Korean name was probably easier for Byeol to pronounce, with its easier consonants and whatnot. You asked which name he preferred, and he said either or. He was a recent college graduate, a year older than you, who was determined to spend at least the next two years doing nothing but working out his future. He accepted the part-time babysitting position to pick up some light cash in the process.

“And ‘cause I’m good with kids,” he added, splitting apart a tangerine. “So I’ve been told.”

“Oh, you definitely are,” you said, plating a couple blueberries. “You melted her earlier.”

“She melted me. She’s so cute. And you’re so cute with her—I didn’t realize I was robbing someone of their job.”

You turned your head to regard the tot and let out a helpless laugh. Byeol tired of being a human lint roller a few minutes ago and had since moved on to staring aimlessly out the window.

“She doesn’t take me seriously, and I can’t stay mad at her,” you mused. “I would be a nightmare as her babysitter, trust me. She’s all yours.”

Felix held out two overturned handfuls of tangerine slices, to which you quickly moved the platter across the counter. He didn’t respond to your comments as he placed them on the outermost edge so that they looked like rays of sun emanating from a multicolored core. Adorable.

“Will you be around much, then?”

You made eye contact with him across the counter. On his perfect face was a teasing smirk and a subtle blush. Ah, you’d been mistaken, writing off his silence as concentration—he’d been contemplating how to best flirt with you.

“Y’know. In case I need any help teaching her cuss words,” he appended.

It was then your turn to flush a couple shades darker. “Please don’t tell her mom.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” He walked around the perimeter of the counter until he was directly in front of you; the lavender and orange blossoms returned. “On one condition.”

Not even one hour on the job and he was already trying to blackmail you? You respected it. “Which is?”

As he shifted some of his weight onto the counter, something too shifted in his smile, giving it a quality that was every bit as hopeful as it was gentle.

It was then, while Lee Felix was looking at you like that, all dilated pupils and long lashes, when you predicted that he would one day break your heart. You predicted you’d let him.

“Be around,” he said simply.

It wasn’t a question or a demand. In hindsight, you think it was more akin to a birthday wish, ill-fated the moment it hit the air.

II. has changed

Felix pulled Byeol’s hood up and over her ears, and you realized he was right about the winter coat getting too small for her—she looked like a bowling pin. You muffled your snort into your scarf.

“And what was the last rule again?” He asked, his breath puffing into the frigid afternoon in tiny clouds. Byeol sighed like she knew anything of the world’s woes.

“No barking at other kids,” came the sad reply, but a toothy smile spread across her face anyways when Felix nudged the underside of her chin. She loved when he did that.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed. “I believe in you.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you said, and the wounded look Felix shot you was like you’d just confessed to hating kittens. “Come on—she doesn’t have a good track record. I’m allowed to have my doubts.”

“I dunno what that means,” Byeol announced with admirable frankness, and then turned around and scurried down the porch stairs, scattering fun-sized footprints across the snowy streets.

As you braced yourself to follow her, Felix stopped you with a slip of his hand into the pocket of your puffer. His fingers first aligned with yours inside the insulated nylon, then chased the spaces in between. He leaned in close, placed a kiss on the apple of your cheek, another on the corner of your mouth. This brought a helpless smile to your face, too. He had a way of melting you and Byeol both.

“It’ll be fine,” he soothed. “A little barking never hurt anybody, baby.”

“Lix, last time somebody called animal control.”

“Ermm—a little barking never hurt most people.”

That winter, Byeol was four, and your relationship with Felix was about to turn two.

Funnily enough, you’d never figured out when your anniversary actually was. Felix wagered it was the day you met, as he knew he loved you the instant he saw you; you insisted it was months later, since it took both of you an entire winter break of open-ended flirting and informal dating to label yourselves for real. Imagine your horror when he showed up outside your college apartment on the last day of your fall semester, arms overflowing with flowers and gift bags brimming with your favorite things, the phrase “happy anniversary” on his lips three months before you perceived it to be. You’ve celebrated both days ever since.

You loved the ocean growing up. You didn’t get to visit it often, but when you did you would run up to the water’s very edge so that your toes dipped into the cold—and just stand there, observing, absorbing, until even the seam of your lips and the ends of your eyelashes were studded with crystals of seasalt. You found endless tranquility in its rhythmic whispers and unspeakable comfort in its oscillating waves, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Your fascination stemmed from the folktale your mother used to read to you before bed, about a sun goddess creating the earth. In the story, every component of nature was one of the sun’s beloved children. She allegedly loved them all, but you suspected the ocean was her favorite; it was obvious, the way she twinkled off its ebbing surface, the way every minuscule spot of light looked to you like a handprint of hers, left behind by eons of endless doting.

Felix reminded you of the ocean. Every day you grew more certain that you wanted to drown in him, to let his resonant voice and kind eyes sweep and keep you inside his depths. It was never salt that he pressed into your skin but warmth, stamped and sealed with caring hands and cautious lips. His deep whispers promised eternal love and temporary ecstasy and everything in between. You knew he would come back to you even if stranded in a different realm. And there was no questioning the goddess’ favoritism, either. The freckles on his face mirrored the sun’s very spots like an homage to his creator.

You didn’t love the ocean growing up, no. You had never loved before Felix.

The park was busy when the three of you arrived. Byeol and Felix recognized a few families as your aunt’s neighbors and hurried over to say hello. Your social butterflies. 

“I’ll be over there,” you called after them.

Felix stopped in his tracks, looked over his shoulder. It had started snowing lightly on your walk there, and snowflakes now sat atop his sable locks. He looked like a painting. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes.” You shooed them off. “Don’t worry about me. Go have fun.” 

With that, you withdrew to the sidelines, an unoccupied swingset adjacent to a baseball diamond covered in frost. 

Your baby cousin was brawny for her age, which you could’ve seen coming with how she was hauling at your hair two years ago, but even she couldn’t yet terrorize the playground without assistance. Who better to make her partner in crime than her favorite Bokkie? You couldn’t help but giggle as the two revolved around each other for the better part of an hour, Byeol’s smile colossal as she frolicked every which way, Felix’s smile worried but hopelessly endeared as he followed behind. He never let her leave his shadow. She never tried to.

It was there on those icy swings that you experienced a moment of strange clarity, like you’d broken the fourth wall of your own story. You could feel the winds of change blowing your hair across your shoulders. You were aware of time’s trickling from the gaps of your fingers like liquid mercury.

Your laughter dissipated to a bittersweet smile; your smile mellowed to dewy eyes. It seemed like just yesterday when Byeol was small enough to sit on your shoulders and Felix stepped into your kitchen for the first time. Now, she was scaling a rope ladder with the celerity of a crazed monkey while Felix hovered a wary hand by her waist. The muted sunlight caught on the silver rings he wore, particularly the thin, bright one on his middle finger. You had one just like it, adorning the same place. 

The last two years were the happiest of your life. Why couldn’t you remember where they went?

Lavender and orange blossoms announced your boyfriend’s arrival—that, and the sigh of fatigue that he expelled as he dropped into the swing next to you.

“I’m not cut out for this anymore.”

Byeol’s neighbor had temporarily relieved Felix of his post by taking her and his son to test out the seesaw, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town could hear her enthusiastic shrieking.

“You know how people walk their dogs?” You mused. “Some dogs walk their people. She’s one of them.”

For a moment, he could only stare in disbelief at the grin creeping across your face; then, he groaned in a way that could only mean you were right on the money. You gave his thigh a sympathetic pat.

“You’re whipped, my love. It’s okay.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, suddenly perking up. “Hey, no barking though.”

“Are we considering that a win nowadays?”

“Do you see animal control anywhere?”

“Good point.”

Felix monitored your expression during the quiet interval that ensued—saw through the melancholy curve of your lips, the pensive slant of your gaze. There was a red tinge to the whites of your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

You saw him reach for you in your periphery. His fingers brushed a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, remained there for three slow heartbeats, and then lifted away.

“Angel,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

You shook your head. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not.” Not even ten seconds after the last time, he reached for you again, now to take your hand and bring it to his lap. “You know it’s not.”

“It’s just that—”

Felix thumbed over the ridges of your knuckles, his touch so gentle that it could’ve unraveled a chrysalis; it certainly unraveled you. You took a stabilizing breath.

“I wish could recognize my own happiness in the moment,” you sighed, “not just in retrospect. That way, even when it comes to an end, I’d still be able to look back and say with confidence that I was happy once. I’d like that, I think.”

His brows knit together as he processed your words, and, the next thing you knew, he left his swing trembling in his sudden absence and his trenchcoat became a black blur in the cold air.

Felix rested his elbows atop your knees as he knelt in front of you, cradled your face in his hands. He was achingly beautiful always, but you truly felt your breath swiped from your lungs at the new proximity of his ethereal features: petal-shaped eyes, wind-bitten cheeks, coral cupid’s bow. A painting.

“That’s easy enough,” Felix hummed. “How do you feel right now?”

You had zero agency in the smile this brought to your face. You wrapped your hands around his wrists, your answer quick, thoughtless. “Happy.”

He pressed his lips to the space between your eyes. “And now?”

“Happier.”

He pressed his lips to the curve of your jaw. “What about now?” 

“Even happier.”

His gaze flickered to his final destination, but you beat him to it, sealing your mouth against his with urgency. The kiss that followed was so intensely loving that your head went fuzzy. How was it that you felt his adoration for you even in his pliant lips, his velvet tongue? You ran your fingers through the part of his hair. You loved when you could feel the locks flutter back into place afterwards.

“GET A ROOM!”

You and Felix pulled away from one another, wearing matching expressions of bewilderment. Byeol was approximately five Newtons away from soaring off into the stratosphere, her legs jostling around as she clung to her seat for dear life. It seemed your neighbor had a very aggressive way of seesaw-maneuvering. It seemed your cousin had a very aggressive vocabulary.

“Where did she learn—?” The two of you began in unison, then shot your heads back towards each other.

“It had to be you.”

“Outrageous—you’re the Australian here!”

“You cuss like one too!”

“Because of you!”

“So we’re just lying now?”

“Well, yes.”

Felix cracked a smile—and then the two of you were dying of laughter, his right eye squinting closed and your forehead thudding onto his shoulder. You hardly managed to get out your next words. “We have to do something about her vernacular, don’t we?”

“Oh, badly,” he replied. “Badly.”

After you expended your giggles, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, blissful, glowing. “Thank you, baby.”

“What for?”

“Being my happiness.”

He angled your face back to his and kissed you once more, whispering I love you like it wasn’t enough that it graced your ears; he needed it embossed upon your flesh in permanent ink.

Your intermingled breaths floated up into the air like flare signals over a capsizing boat. Here marks the time we were happiest.

III. (besides myself)

He’s blonde.

That’s the first thing you notice when you see your ex-boyfriend on your aunt’s porch: the slightly off-white color of his silky tresses, grown out longer than you’ve ever seen, pushed off his forehead and tucked behind his ears.

It’s not the only thing you notice, of course. His face has thinned ever so slightly, the shadows thrown over his features by the streetlights behind him particularly opaque. His outfit is glorious, expensive, with the black blazer and white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, the pendant of a silver necklace resting between toned collarbones. His hands are almost overflowing with what must be gifts for your family. It’s impossible to discern all of them from this distance, but you know the bouquet of white poinsettias is for your mom, the batch of brownies doused in sprinkles and icing for Byeol.

But the hair is where your gaze returns, because tucked among the platinum strands are black roots: millimeters of the color you grew to adore, peeking out as if trying to catch a glimpse of you, too.

You’re so occupied with this game of “I spy” that you don’t notice the rampant footsteps coming up behind you. Your six-year-old cousin collides with the back of your leg head-on and nearly topples you like a bowling pin.

“Is it him?” She asks breathlessly.

You come this close to berating her as you steady yourself against the wall—what did I say about treating human beings like couch cushions? But you look down to see her chin resting on the side of your thigh, her eager eyes shining so brightly that she puts her own namesake to shame. Your scolding tirade dissolves on your tongue like popping candy.

You simply sigh instead. “Yes, but—”

“BOKKIE!” She shrieks, and Felix’s head snap upwards at the sound of her voice. His tender smile melts some of the frost laminating your heart.

You crack open the door, making eye contact with Felix for the first time in six months.

“Put everything down. Quickly,” you whisper, and he obeys right away, alarmed by the urgency in your voice. A wise choice.

The last present has hardly touched down upon the wooden planks when Byeol wriggles through the doorway and charges towards Felix like an angered toro. He swivels at her bright holler of his name, lowers himself to a squat just barely in time to catch her in his embrace. The delighted laugh that leaves his mouth as he staggers backwards sounds like the sun itself; you feel lost in orbit hearing it again.

“Bokkie,” Byeol murmurs, her voice muffled in the dip of his shoulder, by the tightening of her arms around his neck.

“Hi, princess.” He kisses her temple, presses his nose against her hair. “Whoa, you’ve grown strong, haven’t you?”

“She takes taekwondo classes now,” you hum from above, and the shock in his face asks the very question that your poignant smile confirms. Yes, because of you.

Felix pulls away, cocoons her cheeks with cherishing hands. “Is that true?”

She bobs her head. “I want to be like Bokkie.”

And his eyes go impossibly, terribly soft, like he’s gazing at the horizon itself. The sight twists the knife in your gut and yanks on your tangled heartstrings. It’s all because of you.

“And kick some ass!” Byeol adds, knocking you out of your sentimental spiral. You clap a defeated hand to your forehead. Felix falls over himself. So much for fixing her vernacular.

A few minutes later, Byeol is pirouetting towards the kitchen with a couple of Felix’s smaller presents in her arms, all too happy to be of help. You linger behind as Felix takes off his shoes, your cousin’s departure leaving the two of you alone in the dim foyer.

Felix straightens. The two of you come face to face. The air hangs so heavily with unspoken words that you half expect it to start dripping.

“Hi,” he says.

You nearly laugh at the cruelty of it. The man you were certain you’d grow old with greeting you like you’ve been forced to sit next to each other on the first day of school.

“Hi,” you answer. “You look—”

The two of you say this last part in unison; old habits die hard.

“—nice,” you finish.

“—beautiful,” Felix breathes, his eyes flicking off to the side abashedly.

Your throat constricts, pulse quickens. Says you. If he was a painting before, you think he’s a sculpture now, his perfection as tangible as if hand-chiseled by the greatest artists of old. As clear as the sun’s beloved sea. You can’t tell if it’s his stylist’s doing or simply a product of him growing into himself.

“Thank you,” you reply quietly. “And thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me. I didn’t think you would.”

“I didn’t do it for me.”

No part of you wants to see the subtle wince that crosses his face at your statement, so you turn your gaze to his jewelry-laden hands instead. 

For a split second, you swear you see the same promise ring settled in the same place on his middle finger. You realize what you’re really looking at only after blinking the phosphenes from your eyes: the thin tanline that it left behind. The realization fixes and destroys you all at once.

Then, Byeol starts wailing about Felix’s whereabouts like an actress hired to spare you from this very interaction.

“Her Highness beckons.” The smile you manage feels like drying cement. “Shall we?”

On your way to the kitchen, you notice the cologne emanating from his person smells only of citrus—no lavender. Its absence steadies you, deludes you into believing that it’s a stranger you’ve just let inside.

That illusion lasts for exactly three hours and forty-eight minutes.

It’s clear that the breakup has your family walking on eggshells, but it’s even clearer that their adoration for Felix has never wavered. You’ve never resigned yourself to the restroom so many times in one night, only to stand with your back against the door, unmoving, unfeeling, listening to the low thrum of his voice through the mahogany. Chatting comfortably with your aunt, bursting into laughter with Byeol, reminding you of the time you considered him family too. 

With every glance you toss your reflection, you discover new cracks in your composure. Has he noticed them yet?

After you come out of the restroom for the sixth time, you notice a light spilling from Byeol’s bedroom into the hallway. A low Australian accent graces your ears, followed closely by a tinkling giggle, and your body nudges you towards the sounds before your head can intervene.

You give your cousin’s door a feather-light nudge. It opens a few centimeters more and grants you vision of Byeol tucked into bed, Felix knelt at her side. Both of their faces are illuminated by the flaxen light of the nearby lamp.

Felix brushes her choppy bangs out of her eyes, a teasing smile on his lips. “Can I tell you a secret, princess?”

This wrests from her another fluttering laugh; you swear he’s the only person in the whole world who makes her shy. “Sure!”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Promise.”

“Not even Snernard.”

“M’kay.”

“Or Bong.”

“M’kay.”

“Especially not Trash the chicken. I don’t trust him.”

“I know, I know, I won’t!” Byeol huffs, and Felix laughs at her outburst. You also snort into your sleeve, amused (and deeply perplexed) by your cousin’s plushie-naming conventions.

“Thank you,” he hums, and he lowers his voice enough that you don’t catch the next thing he says.

All you perceive is the way that Byeol reacts. She sits up straight in bed, resting her back against her pillow. Her features rearrange themselves slowly, awfully, like the spread of cherry-flavored cough syrup over one’s sore throat, into the furthest thing from her trademark too-big-for-her-face smile.

Your stomach plummets to your fucking ankle.

“Why?” Her voice sounds microscopic.

“Well, do you remember what Bokkie’s dream job is?”

Byeol considers for a moment. “Being a singer?”

“That’s right.” He runs a knuckle over the hill of her cheek, the action achingly familiar, immensely fond. “And I found a place where I can do that, but it’s very, very far away. I won’t be able to come home very often.”

The telltale signs appear as he speaks; the final word sets them into motion. A tear streaks down the side of Byeol’s face. It hardly leaves the corner of her eye before it’s being intercepted by a doting swipe of his thumb.

“No,” she replies.

“You've grown so much.” Another tear falls. He wipes away that one, too. “You’re growing so well.”

“No,” she repeats.

“You’ve stolen the light of every star in the sky already. The whole galaxy will be yours someday, sweetheart. I know it.”

“I don’t want it,” she whispers. “I want my Bokkie.”

His vision starts to blur also. “But you don’t need me anymore.”

“We do.”

You know the precise moment Felix’s heart pauses in his chest because it is when yours does too.

“We?” He repeats, and she nods.

“Your dream job is being a singer.” Now Byeol is the one to reach for Felix, her delicate hand cupping the curve of his cheek. Her fingers are too small to catch his tears, she tries anyways—

“But what is your dream?”

It becomes too much for you.

You turn around. A choked sob escapes from behind the hand you have sealed to your mouth, causing both heads inside Byeol’s room to whirl in your direction. You don’t care that you nearly break both of your ankles beelining up the stairs; you only care to get the fuck out of that hallway.

You topple into your room, close the door behind you, and crumble.

Your quivering hands find purchase around your folded legs; your eyes squeeze shut against your knees. Rivulets of tears cascade over your shuddering lips like ruptured barrels of wine, left in the cellars of your soul to age, to spoil.

You never wanted your grief to see the light of day. Pouring your regret over every sidewalk wouldn’t change the past. Splashing your heartache across every wall like the world’s most fucked-up mural wouldn’t alleviate the pain of losing him. He was the one who left, but you were the one who’d asked him to. Feeling, yearning, mourning. Those always seemed so futile.

But you’re not just crying in this moment, rocking back and forth on your bedroom floor; you’re bleeding, the wounds you never treated igniting all at once as if exposed to vinegar, leaving you writhing and gasping in their wake. How you wish they’d been able to heal sooner. Maybe then seeing Felix tonight wouldn’t have splintered your soul like dropped porcelain.

Your door clicks open. Your breath hitches in your throat with a quiet scratch. The gulp of oxygen you intake tastes of oranges.

Every night before you fall asleep, you still think of the last time you visited the sea. The cool sand chafing against your toes, the coarse winds slapping your hair against your face hard enough to sting. The weather was terrible (you neglected to check the forecast before making the drive), but when you stepped onto the embittered coastline, you took what felt like the first real breath of your young adulthood. The fog melded to your skin as if melting a blindfold away, showing you the world in its entirety.

You return to that beach when Felix pulls you into his chest, and there’s no fog this time. Just the faint smell of lavender and your ocean, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Feverishly, Felix presses his lips to your temple, the apple of your cheek, rests his forehead against yours. Brokenly, he utters, “it’s you.”

You can feel his shaking in every part of him: the tickling breath, the fluttering eyelashes, the unsteady hand that reaches into the pocket of his blazer. You graze your fingers over his jaw, an attempt to steady his careening heart, only to lose yours in the fray also when he produces a small red box of unmistakable dimensions.

“God, it’s you. It always has been, always will be. Anything can change except for this.” His voice disintegrates as he speaks. You disintegrate as you listen. “Everything has changed besides myself.”

Felix leans back in to pepper kisses across the expanse of your wet features, then brings himself to one fated knee. He flicks open the lid. You don’t even spare the ring a glance; you don’t doubt its perfection. All you care to look at is the love of your life, deliquesced to adoration and tearwater.

“Thank you for being around, my dream.” His soft smile tends to your scars like ambrosia. “Will you let me do the same?”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[sagee0416]

i dont think i can get over how Jenny Walser plays Tori. the scene on the stairs just hurts me every time because the way she portrays Tori is so devastatingly beautiful. in that scene she doesnt look like a teen, she looks like a child and it hurts so bad because shes really just a kid whos scared for her brother

[jkgnggj]

OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABE THIS WAS NOT THE BIRTHDAY GIFT I HAD IN MIND TO GIVE U BUT IF UR ON THE TERUTORI TRAIN THEN I GOTTA GIVE U A FIC ABT THEM AHH !! GO MAKE UR OWN FIC TOO DONT CALL IT SHITTY IT'LL BE AWESOME I KNOW IT <333

★‧°𖦹｡⋆☆ GYARU TERUTORI ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

FINALLY BACK TO COMMISSIONING TORI RAREPAIRS HELL YEAH !! HERE'S MY LATEST BRAIN ROT TERUTORI <333 TYSM FOR THE ART @lu-kario I HOPE U ALL ENJOY GYARUO TORI AND GYARU TERU ✮⋆˙

[bazingabitch2000]

Tori Spring and Michael Holden head canons:

Michael and Tori are both autistic, though they express it differently. Michael's traits appear more outwardly visible, while Tori’s are subtler, perhaps because Solitaire is narrated from her perspective. We see her tendencies through her internal thoughts, actions, and reflections, all filtered through her own lens. I also think Michael may have ADHD as well.

Michael and Tori are in a queerplatonic relationship. It is NOT a romantic or sexual relationship. Their kiss at the book's end feels out of place; their connection doesn’t need that romantic signal. Queerplatonic relationships like theirs are as valid and significant as romantic ones. Michael is Tori's person, and Tori is Michael's person. I think what they have is beautiful, and it shouldn't be meddled with.

Michael is one of the only people who is able to make Tori laugh - and I mean REALLY laugh. She doesn't hide her face so much when she laughs around him. Sometimes, she laughs in spite of him. She can't help but admit that he cracks her up. She secretly loves that. Michael also secretly loves that. Sometimes they'll spend hours laughing until their faces and tummies hurt, and one of them either decides to finally go home, or they both just fall asleep together.

Tori just borrows Michael's sweaters whenever. She gets looks from her mum, Charlie, and the others, and she knows what they think. She knows they think that her and Michael are together. She doesn't bother to correct them because it's too exhausting, and they'll never get it.

Tori is cold - always. No matter what time of year, or how many layers she's wearing, she is always cold and always complains about how cold it is. Michael is the opposite of this, and is always lovely and warm. He doesn't even have to wear loads of layers. He's always pretty warm. Michael teases Tori for the fact that she's always freezing cold.

Michael makes Tori watch films she's never watched, and once she does, she reluctantly admits that they're actually great films.

Once Tori watches a new film that Michael has recommended, she makes a playlist based on the film, or a favourite character of Michael's from that film.

Tori finds people who reject pop music as “too mainstream” insufferable. She can rant about it for so long that the room falls silent.

Michael is never surprised when he sees that Tori is online at like 2 am. He teases her about it, and begs her to try and go to sleep at a respectable hour, but she never gives in.

Tori refuses to speak with anyone at breakfast if she can avoid it. She makes a point of making sure she can eat breakfast alone in the kitchen or eat it in her room. Either way, her headphones are on as she listens to Coldplay or Radio Head. If someone interrupts her, she glares and reluctantly removes her headphones.

Sometimes, Tori dissociates while she's around her friends. She finds herself questioning whether everything going on around her is real. Whether it's actually happening. Her friends don't seem to notice.

Tori's closet is full of hoodies, while Michael has a growing collection of sweaters.

Tori drinks everything with a straw.

Michael likes to give Tori small doodles, drawings, and notes. Tori keeps all of them and looks at them every once in a while when she can't sleep.

Tori absolutely refuses to ever use the overhead light. She will avoid using it at ALL costs.

Tori gets very bad migraines a lot. They even make her lightheaded and on the brink of fainting. She shrugs it off or plays it off that she's fine around others, but Michael can usually tell. Michael brings paracetamol or ibuprofen always, just in case. He also reminds Tori to drink water.

Tori lives off buttered noodles/pasta, mac n' cheese, or nuggets and chips a lot of the time. She can't cook to save her life.

Sometimes Tori finds herself watching game shows like Tipping Point and The Chase. She genuinely enjoys watching them and tries to play along.

Tori refuses to buy a new phone until her current one is on it's last legs. She just can't comprehend why and how people will buy a new phone once a new model is out.

When she was younger, she would get in trouble for cutting her hair on her own with a scissors.

Tori almost always has a blanket with her in her house. She has plenty of blankets in her room. When she's in the living room, you can bet she has a blanket.

In school, Tori was either the one telling everyone to “shut up” or sitting silently by herself. She was never part of the noise.

Michael would feel bad if any of his teddies were left out, so he would sleep with all of them, or have some sort of rota/routine and sleep with a different one each night.

[tkwrites]

Can I make it up to you? - Nico Hischier x ofc

gif by kawhh

Title: Can I make it up to you? 

Part V in the It Doesn’t Matter AU

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Playlist

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Nico Hischier x Lena (ofc)

Summary: When Lena is hit on at a Devils event and Nico responds by staking his claim rather than checking in to make sure she's okay, she’s understandably pissed. Though their ensuing fight is resolved, Nico still wants to make it up to her. 

Warnings: Sexism and unwelcome advances followed by angst and then a lot of makeup sex. Smut (18+ only!): Fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), face sitting, squirting, unprotected p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), spanking, and a bit of exhibitionism if you squint.

Word count: 8,000

Comments: Well, Nico and Lena are back. This piece is out of order (shocking for me, I know), but the missing piece will be written to fill in their story. 

I had this idea of them having makeup sex that I just couldn’t shake. Which, of course, meant they had to get into a fight first. I’m sorry for the angst and all the sexism, but it gets better, I promise. 

It's been so fun writing Nico into the feminist, romance hero of my dreams. I hope he might be yours, too. 

If you did enjoy it, please consider letting me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Can I make it up to you? 

Part V in the It Doesn’t Matter AU

Lena walked out of the bedroom, and Nico felt his eyes widen. She smiled, and he couldn't do anything but stand there, slack jawed, blinking like a fish. 

He couldn’t get over the fact that Lena was his date. His date. He got to take her out and have other people know she was with him. The feeling exploded in his stomach.

When she twirled, his tongue nearly fell out of his mouth. 

The back of her dress was daringly open, held together by two thin ropes that criss crossed over her shoulder blades. A cowl of the smooth, dark fabric pooled at the small of her back. She wasn’t wearing a bra — at least not that he could see. 

Her hair was down, just brushing her shoulders in soft, beachy waves. She’d refreshed the color the night before, so it was beautifully pastel pink, bringing out the green in her eyes and setting off the color of her skin. Her makeup was just enough to make her look bright and doe eyed.

He was going to have to look at her all night and still be expected to talk to people like a sane person? Fuck. Fuck fuck, fuck.

He finally managed to croak her name, and she giggled. 

“You like it?” 

Like it? He wanted to stay home and worship her in this dress. His mind filled with visions of tracing his lips from the drape of fabric all the way up her spine. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, minding not to tell her she looked beautiful. She did, but Nina’s lectures about how to compliment women rang in his head. 

“Thank you.” 

Lena knew he would like this dress. She saw the way his eyes lingered when women on TV wore backless dresses like this. 

Even still — even knowing — an enormous blast of pride ignited inside her when he was reduced to staring at her open mouthed. She’d chosen right. 

She’d never worn anything like it before. Thankfully, Nicole had helped her pick it out and get the right bra to wear with it. The smooth, delicate fabric felt like a breath of fresh air on her skin.

Walking into the party, Nico couldn’t help feeling smug. When people turned to look at him this time, he was finally in a couple. Not only that, he was in a couple with the person he’d dreamed about coupling with since he was seventeen. He wanted everyone to know she’d chosen him. 

While he went about his schmoozing duties, Lena hung around with the other partners, talking and gossiping and sharing notes on each others outfits before their conversation finally gave way to real life. How people's kids were doing. How hard motherhood was when your partner was only there some of the time. What a weird thing it was to find yourself dating the boy you always dreamed you would. It was a bigger adjustment than she would have thought. 

When she stepped away to order a drink, staying close to the bar to watch it being made, someone stepped up close to her. She figured it was Nico. He was the only one that stood this close. The illusion shattered as masculine voice asked, “so what’s your name?” in a strong Jersey accent. 

Glancing over at him, she took stock. He was wearing a green suit that, on top of clashing against the olive undertones in his skin, was half a size too big for him. He needed a better tailor. And a better hair stylist. The garishly dark combover he was rocking was doing him no favors.

“Alaina,” she said. It wasn’t her name, but it had almost been. Her mother’s mother’s mother was named Alaina, but everyone in her life called her Lena. When it was time for her parents to name their first daughter, they decided to shorten it from the get go. She was named after great-grandma Lena after all. No need to make it complicated. 

“That’s a beautiful name.” He reached forward slightly to brush the backs of his fingers up her arm. 

She stiffened against his touch.

“I’m Reggie,” he said, confirming her suspicion that he might just be her fathers age. Lena felt her skin crawl. Why was a man his age even talking to a girl in her twenties, let alone flirting with her? 

“It’s nice to meet you, Reggie,” she said, giving him a tight smile, “but I really should be getting back…” her words trailed off when she looked over her shoulder to find the other partners had moved on to a different part of the party. 

Damn. There went her easy out. 

“You know,” Reggie said, continuing as if he hadn’t noticed her looking for someone. “My company owns a box for the season if you’d like to catch a game.” 

“I can get tickets.”

“In a box? I doubt it.”

Pursing her lips, Lena took a step back only to have him step forward to keep her from putting too much distance between them. Where was Nico when she needed him? Where was anyone? It was looking more and more like Reggie was the kind of guy who she’d either have to punch or run away from. Possibly both. She hoped she wouldn't have to resort to shouting. 

He smiled as he seemed to realize no one was coming to her aid. 

Lena gulped, feeling her heart begin to flutter in her throat. She pushed her drink aside just in case, grateful that, at least, they were in public.

Nico’s eyes found Lena again. That big guy was still looming over her at the bar. Through the open back of her dress, he could see how tightly her posture muscles were wound. 

Excusing himself from his conversation, he made his way to her. She shouldn’t have to put up with this shit, and this dude needed to know she wasn’t here alone. 

Spotting his forest green suit, Lena relaxed slightly, realizing Nico was walking toward them. She was going to be free of this douche at last. 

Instead of turning his attention on her, though, Nico addressed Reggie as he walked up to them. “Hey man,” he said, slipping his arm possessively around her, his hand cradling her hip.

Reggies eyes darted between them, wide with recognition. The shock wore off quickly though, replaced by a kind of conspiratorial grin, “I should have known a girl like this was with one of you,” he said. “Though I didn't think they took kindly to you dating such rebels.”

Nicos eyebrows raised. Lena wasn't what he would call rebellious. 

Instead of telling Reggie pink hair and a nose ring didn't make a rebel, or saying something about how he and Lena had known each other for years, or anything else, really, Nico took her completely by surprise when he said, “yeah, she’s not single.”

Her posture stiffened. She never saw this kind of cock slinging from Nico. He was usually so much kinder than that, not so concerned with being the bigger man. 

With the Captain standing right in front of him, Reggie immediately launched into a discussion about how the team was doing. 

Nico stood there and kept the conversation going, his hand still at her hip, forearm warm against her bare back. Were they in any other circumstance, she would have relished the feeling of his luxurious suit against her skin.

“Your scoring has really dropped off since the start of the season. Is something wrong you're not telling us?”

He said it with concern in his voice, but Lena knew it was a sentence crafted for maximum impact. She saw the shadow of guilt pass through Nico's eyes before he launched into a media-trained, rehearsed response about how he was trying his best, but sometimes, pucks just didn’t go in the net. 

“You’ve got some —”

Nico cut her off. Even if it meant he was being insulted, he preferred it to this asshole leering at her again. He was trying to keep this creep's eyes off her.

She let out an affronted little snort, and he tried not to smile, touched that she was still willing to go to bat for him. 

It was a solid five minutes of clipped, polite conversation before the guy finally got the hint and left. 

 Nico turned to her only to find her glaring. The triumphant smile slipped from his face. 

“Let’s go get some air,” she said, turning on her heel and walking toward the balcony, breaking his grip in the process. Her tone was icy, and Nico braced for impact as he followed her, his bottle of beer clutched in his hand. 

“What the fuck, Nico?” Lena asked quietly as soon as they were tucked into a dark alcove of the balcony, out of earshot from the other guests. 

“Wha—” 

“What the fuck was that?” 

“I came to rescue you.”

“To rescue me?” she repeated, voice incredulous. “You didn’t even acknowledge me! You hardly even looked at me! I’ve never felt like such a possession.”

“I know men like that,” he tried to explain, “I was trying to get his attention off of you,”

“And in the process, you made me feel like some kind of dumb trophy.”

“A trophy?” he repeated. 

“Yes! An ornament there to do nothing but make you look better,” she said. Her words and tone had maximum impact, smacking into him as if she’d hit him with her open palm. 

Shit. He had done that. His first instinct had been to check on her, but he’d pushed it aside, wanting to let that guy know she wasn’t here alone. He knew he shouldn't have second guessed his gut reaction. 

Goosebumps were rising on her arms in the cold night air. He slipped his jacket off and held it out to her. 

His offering was met with a fierce glare. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation here, Nico.” 

“I know, and I want to, but I can tell you're freezing,” he held the suit coat out again, “please.”

She took it from him and threw it on the ground. “Will you listen to me, now?” 

Chastened, he nodded. “I’m sorry.”

God, why did he have to have those eyes? Those earnest, puppy dog, always wanting to do better, brown eyes. 

“Nico, I needed rescuing, and instead, you came over and started dick measuring with that guy. Who, by the way, I’m pretty sure was old enough to be my father, but still hit on me.”

His jaw hardened. “He was hitting on you?”

“Yes.” Her voice took on a sarcastic tone, “what did you think he was doing? Telling me about his kids?” 

“I don’t know…”

“For some reason, men of a certain age always think that having tattoos or piercings means you’re a slut.” 

Wincing, he asked, “what did he do?” 

“Well, he touched me for one.” 

His jaw went hard, and a protective kind of anger flashed in his eyes. 

“What?” Nico was going to kill him.

“Not like totally inappropriately,” she amended angrily. “He touched my arm, but it still made my skin crawl.”

What the fuck? Hadn’t there been enough media and enough talk for men to know they couldn't touch women without their permission? Even when someone asked for a picture, Nico never put his arm around them unless they did it first or they gave permission. 

“Then he told me I should come watch a game in his company owned box,” she scoffed. “He totally ignored me when I said I had access to tickets.”

Anger flared in his chest. Not only was this dude a creep, he hadn’t even listened to her. “How can I be better?” he asked. Not only in this instance, but to be a better man.

“I wish you had checked in with me before you started engaging or telling him I’m not single. I don't belong to you.” 

“I don't think you belong to me, Lena,” he said, hurt she would even think that.

“Really? The whole ‘yeah, she's not single’ thing,” she threw her voice into a distorted imitation of his own, accent and all, “coulda fooled me.” 

“I didn't…” fuck. He had said that. “I was just trying to get him to focus on me instead. I don’t think you belong to me. You’re my girlfriend, I know that’s different.” 

The really annoying thing was that Lena knew he was telling the truth. It wasn’t an empty pronouncement. He really was sorry. And everything she knew of him told her he would learn from this and try to get better. All the same, she wondered if he really got where she was coming from.

“Do you even understand why I'm upset?” she asked, arms dropping to her sides. 

He'd royally fucked up if she was asking that. “Yes!” He schooled his voice into a less frantic tone and continued, “I understand.” 

“What do you understand?” 

“That you felt disrespected when I went straight into trying to solve the problem instead of checking to see if you were okay first.” It was something he often talked about with Nina and his mother. Women rarely wanted a solution to a problem. Most of the time, they just wanted someone to listen. And instead of doing that, he’d just barreled straight into fixing it. He knew better. He was a fucking idiot. 

“Oh.” It was a more succinct explanation than she'd been expecting. 

“I won’t ever do that again, Lena. I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out for her. 

Thankfully, she came into his arms willingly, even tucking her cold nose under his jaw. He swallowed against the sensation and slid his hands over her back. 

“Lena, you're like ice,” he chastised, trying to cover as much of her as he could. 

Now that the adrenaline of anger was ebbing away, the cold seeped in — and it seeped in fast. She stepped closer to Nico to try to absorb some of his body heat. 

“Can we get you inside?” he asked, rubbing her back. His hands were cold too, so he was sure it wasn’t doing any good, but it was better than nothing.  

“Thank you for being willing to understand,” she said, ignoring his question. 

It was such strange phrasing that Nico pulled back to look into her face. “Of course I’m willing.”

“Not all men are,” she said, tugging him back so their chests were once again flush. 

The fact that she’d had to put up with assholes who didn’t even try to understand where she was coming from ate at him. She deserved better than that. He wanted to be better than that. 

 Holding her, out in the cold, he dared to look at the pieces of himself he didn’t like to. The ones that were jealous and overly eager to prove that Lena was with him. That guy hadn’t posed any competition, and he knew it. In his heart of hearts, he knew she would never do that to him. He had no reason to get defensive of their relationship and should have checked in with her first. She should have been his top priority, not how others saw him. 

“I’m sorry, Lena,” he said, his voice quiet against her ear. “I let my pride come before how you were feeling.” 

Damn him. This was why she could never stay mad at him. “Thank you.” 

Her lips brushed against his neck when she said it, and it caused a shiver of a different kind to ripple over his skin. 

“I love you,” he said. 

She pulled back to look into those big brown eyes. “I love you, too.”

“Can I take you back inside now?” he asked. “I really don’t want you to get frostbite.”

“It’s not cold enough to get frostbite,” she said even as she broke away and bent to pick up his jacket. 

He was momentarily mesmerized by her bare back in the winter moonlight and was still staring when she held his jacket out to him. 

“I’m sorry I threw it on the ground,” she said, attempting to knock some of the dust off. It had been a childish thing to do, and she wished she could take it back. He’d just been trying to care for her, and she’d been so hellbent on making her point, she’d thrown his very sweet gesture into the dirt. 

A half smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I deserved it.”

“It was sweet, and I’m sorry I threw it back in your face.” 

“It’s okay,” he assured, taking it from her and settling it on her shoulders. 

The silk lining was cold against her skin, and she shivered. 

“Let’s go inside,” he said, gently turning her around so he could lead her back to the party, his arm draped around her shoulders. 

Snuggling into his side, Lena took a deep breath, readying herself to face the crowd of people again. At least no one had heard them arguing. 

“Do you want to leave?” 

“You need to stay, don’t you?” 

“Well, yeah, but…” 

The warm air in the ballroom stung as it collided with the chill on her skin. “I’ll stay with you,” she said, shrugging his jacket off and handing it back to him. She didn’t want to go home alone. She’d just be sitting there waiting for him anyway. 

“Okay,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. 

“There you are!” Nicole exclaimed. “Were you two sneaking off? Naughty, naughty,” she teased, winking at Nico. “Though, I can’t really blame you with how good she looks in this dress.”

He gave her a bashful smile. 

“Come on, Lena. Kristen was just about to tell us the funniest story.” 

Allowing herself to be pulled into the party, Lena glanced back at Nico. She sent him a smile and a little wave. The last thing she saw before the crowd closed around them was his cheeky wink, as he mouthed, ‘I love you.’

An hour later, they were tucked into the back of an Uber on the way home. Lena was playing with Nico’s fingers as she recounted Kristen’s story about Eric trying and failing to make dinner while caring for their kids and dogs. 

He laughed, glad that after the night they’d had, she was still willing to share these silly stories with him. 

“We’re okay, right?” he asked, entwining his fingers with hers.

“Yeah,” she said, lifting her face so their eyes met. Her anger had faded almost completely. “Of course we’re okay.”

A sigh let go in his chest. 

“Nico,” she raised a hand to cradle his jaw, “I know you weren’t trying to hurt me or anything. I know you better than that. It just kind of struck a nerve, and I lost my temper.”

Shooting her a rueful smile, he corrected, “you had every right to be upset with me. I was an ass.” 

She laughed, “you kind of were.” 

Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her temple and let his voice drop low, “can I make it up to you?” 

“Make it up to me?” she repeated, eyes darting to his. Was he implying what she thought he was? 

His brown eyes smoldered as he nodded.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want,” he murmured, dipping his lips to her neck.  

Tipping her head to give him more access, she found her voice suddenly much breathier than it had been. “I think we can arrange for that.”

He pulled away only when the car pulled up to their building. 

The smug little smile on her face as they rode the elevator nearly made him start to pant. He knew what that smile meant. 

Pausing as they passed through the kitchen, Nico asked, “do you mind if I grab something to eat before?” The food at those parties was never quite enough.

She shook her head. “I’ll meet you in your room.”

Although she hadn’t slept in her own bed in weeks, she hadn’t really moved anything into his room, so it didn’t quite feel like theirs. 

A few minutes later, perched on the end of the bed, she watched him come in, admiring the way he moved in his beautiful, dark green suit. The vest hugged his torso in a way that made him look deliciously thick. That had certainly changed since they were seventeen. 

Nico stopped in front of her, swallowing the last bite of apple.

“What do you want?” he asked. God, his accent was already thick, and he hadn't even touched her. 

She leaned back and swept her hair from her face before bracing with that arm, too. “I want to watch you undress.”

Nodding, he swallowed hard. “Do you want it a certain way?”

Shaking her head, she said, “just go slow.”

He started with his tie. The slip of the silk under his shirt collar was a hypnotic whisper. 

Watching her watch him made him breathless with anticipation. It was an incredible turn on, knowing she didn’t want him to be anything but who he already was. He knew she didn’t want a performance.

“Can I hang this up?” he asked, holding up the suit coat. 

 She nodded.

He walked into the closet and came back with a hanger. He removed his vest and hung it up before covering it with the coat. 

“Your hands are so sexy,” she breathed, watching him work the buttons of his shirt, top to bottom. 

His dimple winked at her. 

Glancing up, he asked, “do you want me to get you off with them?”

“Uh hu,” she breathed. She was still reclined on the bed, but her legs were now crossed, attempting to get some friction between her thighs. Just the thought of it, of his casual offer to bring her pleasure, had desire singing through her veins, ending hot and heavy between her legs.

He worked on the buttons of his cuffs, watching her. Her face was flushed, eyes blown dark with lust. Finally, he shouldered off the button down and tossed it behind him to be added to the hamper later. 

“Undershirt first,” she said when he reached for the button of his pants. 

Not bothering to hide her need, she drank in the movement of his arms and chest as he worked the shirt over his head. She squeezed her legs a little tighter together. 

He paused for a moment then, letting her drink in the sight of him shirtless in those incredibly well tailored trousers. 

“Turn around,” she said. 

“Why?” 

“Because I want to admire your ass in those pants.”

He blushed but did as she requested, adding in a little shake.

She laughed, then let out a groan as he stilled and flexed slightly, showing off his toned back.

When he looked over his shoulder, she’d collapsed back on the bed. 

“I can’t wait.”

“Wait for what?” he asked, turning back around. 

“I can’t wait for you to touch me.” 

He took a step forward. When she didn’t stop him, he took another and another until he was standing right in front of her. Reaching down, he slid one of his hands up her smooth calf. The soft fabric of her dress bunched around his wrist as his hand slid onto her thigh. 

Lena moaned, and it shot straight to his groin. He loved that sound more than any other in the world. “This is good?” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

He tried to push the skirt up over her hips, but her hand caught his forearm, halting the movement. “Need it now,” she said, guiding his hand between her legs. 

The smile he gave her was wicked. Moving her underwear out of the way, he dipped his fingers into her sweet, wet heat. “You’re dripping.”  

Her back arched, trying to get her clit closer to his hand. “Yeah. I’ve had to look at you in that fucking suit all night.” 

It was always a pleasant surprise when she said things like this. When it became evident that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. “I’ve been half hard looking at you in this dress all night,” he admitted, finally adjusting so the heel of his hand pressed into her. 

She made a keening noise and ground against him. “Bought it just for you.” 

As her admission pulled even more blood from his brain, his entire body froze.

“Nico!” she complained. 

He snapped back to himself and started moving again, curling his fingers inside her and following the wave of her hips. 

“Oh,” she moaned, head thrown back. “Just like that.” 

He hadn’t been able to touch her like this for very long, but in the short amount of time he had, he’d been an attentive student. He seemed to remember everything she told him about what she liked. 

“Nico.” The way she said his name while they were making love was a symphony in his ears. What had he ever done in his life to deserve to be in this moment? Especially after fucking up so terribly that evening.

“What do you need?” he asked, pressing a little harder. 

Breath rushed from her mouth, “kiss me.” 

Fingers still buried inside her, he covered her body with his and captured her mouth. He swallowed every noise she made until she broke away, panting. 

“Right there,” she moaned, hips rolling. Something about the way he was touching her, fingers crooked just so, had fire licking through her veins. “Keep your fingers right there.” 

Working the spongey spot inside her, he breathlessly awaited her climax. 

“I —” The words she was going to say fell right out of her brain. They came crashing back with sudden force as Nico continued his magic. “I’m gonna come.”

“Yes. I love it when you come for me.”

Pleasure, more intense than she’d ever felt before, broke open inside her and, clutching the comforter, Lena cried out.

Nico watched her face, fascinated, as he felt her release slick his fingers .

“Fuck,” he groaned, “you’re so sexy.”

The pleasure kept coming until sensitivity turned his touch into a branding iron. Squirming away, she croaked, “too much. Too much.”

Slipping his hand from her and out from under her dress, Nico watched her chest rise and fall in sharp little gasps as he brought it to his mouth. 

“Oh my god,” she said, eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

She could practically feel Nico’s wide smile. 

“I’ve never felt anything like that.” 

“Really?” 

“What did you do?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You were doing that,” she held up her hand, crooking her fingers as if beckoning him to her. 

“Someone told me it was the best way,” he said, a blush darkening his cheeks. 

“Someone?” 

“Courtney,” he admitted. 

Courtney had been a girl he’d hooked up with on and off whenever he was in New Jersey. One of them would snap the other, and they’d meet up, usually every few weeks. When Lena had moved in, he’d stopped responding to her, and she’d eventually stopped asking. 

Lena only met her once but instantly disliked her, later telling him, “I don’t know, she’s just so obsessed with herself. She hardly even acknowledged I was there.”

It had been awkward to watch the two of them interact. Courtney, who Nico knew liked him more than he liked her, and Lena, who at the time, he thought didn’t like him the way he liked her. It had put them in an awkward triangle of disproportionate feelings. When Courtney had left to go home, she told him, “you’re so full of shit, Nico. When you two figure out what the hell is going on between you, let me know.” 

He’d been affronted at the time, hurt she would insinuate he and Lena had anything together. Now, looking back, he could understand how uncomfortable it must have been for her to be stuck between two people so in love with each other. She must have felt like he was playing games with her. She’d still spent the night in his bed when he asked her to come over three weeks later, though. 

“Hu,” Lena said, holding herself back from continuing, at least she was good for one thing. 

“Have you never…” he trailed off. 

“Never what?” 

His blush was back, “Have you never…I mean, wasn’t that your…” he had to pause, trying to remember the word, “your g-spot?” 

A series of puzzle pieces clicked into place all at once. “I wasn’t sure I had one,” she admitted, turning her head to look into his face. “I’ve never been able to find it.”

Half of his mouth curved in an amused smile. “None of your boyfriends tried?” he asked, tracing the edge of her dress, where it curved around her shoulder. He’d daydreamed of making Lena come like that for years — ever since Courtney taught him what the g-spot was and how to find it. 

“No,” she snorted. “Milo gave decent head, but none of them were as invested as you are.” 

His vision flared red for a moment before fading back to normal. Most of him was smug that he’d been the first one to find hers, but a part of him was angry she’d wasted so much time on losers who didn’t deserve her. 

Lena sighed. No wonder she’d never felt anything like that. She never had. 

“What do you want?” Nico asked, his hand slipping down her side, sliding over the slippery fabric with ease. 

“Hm?” 

“What do you want?” he repeated, “I’m making it up to you, remember?”

“I want to sit on your face,” she said, not missing a beat. 

Nico grinned. He loved getting her off with his mouth, but the prospect of getting her off with his mouth while she was above him and he could see her beautiful face? What a dream. 

“You’ll have to help me get this dress off,” she said, standing from the bed. “It’s taped.”

“Taped?” he repeated, sitting up. 

She turned her back to him, and before she could explain what she meant, he made good on his earlier promise to himself, trailing his lips from the cowl pooled at her low back up to the little ropes holding the dress on.

Lena hummed, a shiver running through her body. If he was going to have this reaction all the time, she was never covering her back again.  

“What did you need?” he asked, lips whispering over the top of her spine, just under her short hair. 

“Nicole helped me tape it,” she said, running a hand under one of the sides until it caught, “so it wouldn’t fall off, or accidentally expose something.”

His fingers followed hers, easing the tape from her skin before repeating on the other side.  

She turned around, grasping the fabric at her hips so she could lift the dress over her head. 

Nico drank in each movement, his dick twitching when the black lace of her underwear was exposed. 

She thought about hanging it up, but there was a wet spot from her orgasm that would need to be cleaned off before she could wear it again. Instead, she tossed it aside, so it draped artfully across the floor. 

He made a low noise in his throat. 

She stood before him in black pumps, a tiny pair of black lace underwear and a bra that was some kind of free-standing contraption. No straps and no band. As she went about removing it, he realized it was stuck to her skin. It must not have been that uncomfortable, though. The red marks had already mostly faded when she discarded it with the dress. 

After easing her thong off, Lena held it out to him, hooked on one finger. She’d bought it, wanting to see it tucked into his pocket by the end of the night. While she’d been getting dressed, she’d wondered if it might end up there before they left the gala, but that hadn’t worked out. Good thing, too. Everyone would have known. That dress really didn’t hide anything.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathed, taking the underwear from her and tucking it into his pants pocket. 

Preening, she motioned for him to lay back. 

He did, scooting up to the pillows to get in a comfortable position. 

Lena waited for him to get settled before straddling him. 

Watching her crawl up his body, knowing where she was going to end up, was perhaps the hottest thing he’d ever experienced in his life.

“After this,” she said, hovering over him, just close enough that the only thing he could smell was her sweet, humid heat, “I want you to bend me over the bed and fuck me.”

“Okay.”

Like he could say no to anything she wanted while they were in this position. 

She made a satisfied humming noise and lowered to his mouth. 

He groaned, hands coming up to grasp her hips, fingers digging into the flesh to keep her on top of him. He wanted to keep her here as long as possible.

He played with her clit, then licked through her, savoring the juices that gathered on his tongue. He hummed just to see her squirm and her nipples tighten. 

When he tried to pull away, and she followed him with a whine, he couldn't help but laugh. 

“Touch yourself for me,” he urged before latching his mouth back onto her. 

Clutching the headboard with one hand for balance, she toyed with her nipple with the other. 

The sight of it made his dick jump in his pants. “Das ist es,” he murmured, purposefully not bothering to translate. She always seemed to like it when he used his native language in bed, especially if it was praise.

Her head tipped back with a groaned, “oh fuck,” as she moved to the other breast. 

The need to get her off, to make sure she had the best orgasm possible, was a palpable itch he needed to scratch. It felt like he might just die without it. Keeping his left hand at her hip for balance, he brought the other to her center. 

Feeling his fingers tease her entrance, Lena popped her hips back to facilitate him. She was rewarded with a low hum of appreciation and a wink. 

Reveling in her expression — eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering and jaw slack — Nico continued his pursuit, easing two fingers into her, determined to find her g-spot. He’d done it before, he could surely do it again. 

He knew he'd found it, not only from the slightly different, spongey texture but also from the stuttered moan of pleasure that crawled up her throat. 

Her left hand smacked back onto the headboard, grasping desperately for balance as her hips rolled atop his face.

Milking her clit with his mouth, he worked his fingers in and out and up and down until she was trembling above him, chanting, “Yes! Nico, yes!”

He hummed back, moaning as a fresh wave of her arousal slicked over his chin. If this wasn’t about him making up for being such a prat, he would beg her to turn around so he could feel her mouth at the same time.

This was a whole new feeling. The combination of Nico’s extraordinary mouth, along with his magic fingers, was the catalyst for a series of reactions Lena had never felt together before. First, there was the intense heat that shimmered over her skin, then the pleasure that zinged from her core all the way up to her brain, and through her legs, right to her toes, still tucked into her pumps. Finally, there was the swirl of emotion and sensation that took up residence in her low belly. All together, they resulted in an orgasm so intense, she didn’t even have words to describe it. 

Color and sound and heat rushing through her until they swelled to bursting, unleashing all over Nico’s face. 

Choking out a groan of surprise as Lena’s orgasm gushed over his hand and flooded his mouth, he tried to commit every detail of this night to memory. He’d never made a woman squirt before and was bound and determined to remember everything so he could recreate it. He wanted to experience this over and over again.

She practically fell off of him, and they lay there, gasping. 

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, swiping at the liquid dripping off his neck. He had no idea if it was her release or his own sweat. He didn’t care. 

“Fuck me,” Lena breathed, her hand coming up to her forehead in disbelief. “You’re just bringing all sorts of things out of me today.” 

Nico started to giggle, and Lena couldn't help but join in. They soon found themselves rolling toward each other, overtaken with laughter. It ended up being both of their favorite memories of the night. Yes, Nico had just made her come so hard she saw stars, but this — this laughing together in the middle of it all felt so…comfortable. It was a reminder that at it’s core, their relationship hadn’t changed all that much. 

“I love you so much,” Nico laughed against her mouth. 

“I love you, too,” she said before silencing him with a kiss. 

He moaned and pulled her on top of him.

After a few more minutes of passionate kissing, chests still occasionally shaking with laughter, Lena pulled away. Grinding her core against his stomach - knowing it drove him wild - she said, “well, I think I’m plenty prepped.” 

He grinned and managed to tamp down most of his laughter. 

Helping her off of him, he watched her stand and brace her hands on the mattress before hauling himself out of the bed and shoving his pants down. When he’d pulled the hanger from the closet, he’d intended to hang them up, but the prospect of fucking her stole too much of his brain power to care anymore. So they stayed heaped on the floor as he took his place behind her, rutting his hard cock against her. 

She moaned and popped her hips back to grind on him. If she kept that up, he was going to come before he even got inside her. 

What was it she’d said? I want you to bend me over the bed and fuck me. Bringing a hand to the back of her neck, he pushed her forward until her chest pressed flush to his mussed comforter. 

Her heels were still on, and even though they pitched her legs forward at an awkward angle, forcing her to grasp for balance with her toes, she was glad she hadn’t kicked them off. She would have been too short without them, and there was something so hot about having to rely on him for her balance.

Lena moaned. She’d dreamed of this so many times. Of him coming into her room, pressing her down to the bed, or sweeping everything off her desk to bend her over the hard surface, and using those powerful legs and hips to fuck her brain into mush. When he told her, however you want me, she knew she had to take advantage. 

 Fuck, she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life. Seeing her bent over like this, with her beautiful back and the ample curves of her ass and hips on full display, was the fulfillment of a fantasy he hadn’t even known he had. He felt like the luckiest man on the planet. 

“You like that?” he asked, sliding his erection through her wet center.

Shifting her hips back, trying to entice him inside her, she breathed, “yes.” 

He took the bate, but only teased her entrance with the thick head of his cock. 

“Nico,” she whined. 

“Hm?” he asked, enjoying this far more than he ever thought he would. 

“Fuck me.” 

Something occurred to him suddenly, “do we need a safe word?” 

She was too busy trying to get more of him inside her without falling over to respond. 

Easing back as he lifted his hand off her neck, he asked, “what’s your safe word? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t hurt me.”

“Lena,” he admonished. 

“Fine,” she huffed, mind whirring, “cantaloupe.” She’d bought one just the day before, and it was the the first thing that popped into her mind that didn’t sound too close to something she might yell out naturally, like puck, which was the first word she’d thought of. “Now fuck me.” 

A deep groan let go in his chest, and Nico pressed her back down, hand now resting between her shoulder blades. “This is okay?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she huffed, frustration evident in her voice, “come on.” 

His only response was to trace his thumb over her skin. 

“Please,” she whined, not caring that she sounded desperate and needy. She felt desperate and needy. 

Chuckling, he gave her no warning before burring his cock in her sweet, tight center. 

Hands fisting the comforter, Lena’s back swayed like a snake as an animalistic cry flew from her mouth. 

This kind of standing doggy, which she found allowed for stronger thrusting than kneeling, had always been one of her favorite positions. It felt new with Nico, though, who was thicker than any of her previous partners. He hit spots in her she never knew she had and filled her in a way she didn’t think was possible. 

Panting, she moved with him. The solid feel of him behind and inside her made her desperate for more. “Nico,” she moaned. Whatever else she was going to say jumbled in her mouth as he withdrew to the tip before burying himself back in her warmth. 

God, she was the most amazing woman he’d ever met. Her head was turned, so he got a view of her blissful expression in profile as she moaned and panted for him. The sight of her ass bouncing off his hips had him desperate to do things he’d never imagined himself doing before. Good thing they had a safe word. She might just need to use it. 

His free hand came down on her ass with a sharp slap before he grabbed the globe of it, kneading the muscle. 

She cried out. 

“That’s good?” he asked, wanting to make sure it wasn’t a cry of pain. 

“Yes,” she moaned, “so good, Nico.” She’d never liked getting spanked before. Then again, she’d never trusted someone like she trusted Nico. She knew he wouldn’t push it too far, which had always been her hesitation with the guys who tried it before. When Nico did it, it sent so much unexpected electricity rocketing through her system, she couldn't let go of the idea of him doing it again. 

He switched hands, so his right pressed into her back, and his left was free to smack her other cheek until it was red enough to match its partner. There was something incredibly arousing about knowing she trusted him to do this. That she found it hot, too. 

Back arching with the pleasurable pain, Lena begged, “harder.” 

“You want me to spank you harder?” he asked, a little surprised. He hadn’t exactly been gentle about it. 

Her head shook, just slightly, “Fuck me. Fuck me harder, Nico.” 

Sliding his hands over her curves and onto her hips to get a good grip, he got into a more grounded stance and snapped his hips to hers. 

The fulfillment of this fantasy nearly drove Lena out of her mind.  

Her face turned slightly, so her shout was muffled by the comforter. Which was a shame, really. He wouldn’t mind his neighbors overhearing this. Especially that dick next door who checked her out every time they passed by each other in the hall. 

Unable to hold it in, he moaned, “You’re so perfect for me, Lena.” 

“Yes,” she chanted, “for you, Nico. Only for you.” 

He wanted to make her come around his cock, but her declaration had a surge of heat streaking through him, so hot that his resolve crumbled in one fell swoop.

“Fuck, gonna come,” he groaned, his rhythm turning sloppy and swift. 

“Yes,” her hips tipped, just so, making her even tighter. 

The sensations became too much, and her name burst from his mouth in a shout. 

Feeling his hot release spill into her, Lena moaned.

Joints liquified by his orgasm, Nico collapsed, his chest pressing into her sweaty back. 

It took a few moments before he could get his mouth to work right. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her hair. 

“For what?” she laughed.

Feeling came back into his legs, and he eased out. “Didn't last long enough for you to get off.” 

With his weight off her. Lena crawled onto the bed, desperate to give her legs a rest. Her heels clunked to the floor, one after the other.

He climbed on beside her, pulling her against him. 

“You know,” she said as she turned over so they were face to face, “just because I didn't get off that one time doesn't mean I didn't thoroughly enjoy myself.” 

“You deserve to get off whenever I do,” he argued. 

“That's really sweet, Nico,” she assured, a hand coming up to caress his cheek and push his hair from his face. She knew he had a tendency to be too hard on himself, wanting everything to be perfect every time. “But don't forget you just made me come so hard I squirted.” 

He scoffed, “like I could ever forget that.” 

“And it's not like you came without getting me off,” she assured, tracing soft patterns on his scalp. “It evens out in the end.”

He made a discontented noise but didn't argue. 

She let it drop. “Let's go clean up, yeah? If you're really worried about it, you can get me off in the shower.” 

Pulling her even closer and burying his face in her neck, he told her, “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” she said, fingers carding through his hair. “Now, come on. I need to shower. You've made a right mess of me.” 

Laughing, he slid off the bed and lifted her into his arms. 

He deposited her onto the bathroom counter and started the shower. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes as he studied her face.

“With what?” 

“I didn’t hurt you?” 

She shook her head, “no. I would have told you if you did. I know you would have stopped if I told you to.” 

A relieved sigh let go in his chest. 

He lifted her off the counter and followed her into the shower. 

After soaping each other up, Nico did spend some time on his knees, getting her off not just once but several more times. He was too taken with her shaking legs and panting mouth as her hands sunk into his hair to stop at one.

“I did enough?” he asked a while later, after pajamas had been donned, and they’d crawled into bed.

“Enough what?”

“I made it up to you?” 

“Mmmhmmm…” she mumbled sleepily.

Tucking himself against her, he relished the warmth of her body pressed against his. 

“I forgave you long before I got naked, though,” she said, feeling it was important to clarify. “The awesome sex was just a bonus.” 

He chuckled softly, pressing a few soft kisses to her shoulder. 

“I love you,” she said, voice slow with fatigue. 

“I love you, too. Thank you for believing in me.” 

“You’re the best man I’ve ever known, Nico.”

Heart swelling in his chest, he pulled her a bit closer and settled in to fall asleep.  

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Playlist

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[fxlling-slxwly]

There’s so much about Heartstopper Season 3 that I LOVE. Obviously Nick and Charlie’s relationship growth is beautiful, and Charlie’s mental health stuff is SO IMPORTANT, and I was SOBBING at Episode 4. HOWEVER. Breakdown of my favourite parts / storylines:

1. Darcy’s exploration of pronouns and gender identity. Seeing them start leaning more masc, cutting their hair, using they/them pronouns, and then coming out to Tara as non-binary?? WONDERFUL. As someone who recently came out as genderqueer (with a fairly similar path as Darcy actually) this made me so emotional and so happy for them and the representation.

2. Isaac. My baby. Everything about him is so wonderful and I just want to wrap him in the biggest hug ever. His coming out scenes (both his one to Charlie and to the Paris Gang) were beautiful. His boundaries in refusing to fill in the gaps for his friends is so admirable, as when you’re outside the ‘mainstream’ queer labels it can become such a tiresome ordeal having to explain your identity to others when they aren’t putting in the work to look it up. I’m SO GLAD he got these moments and he’s such a ray of sunshine. Him being the only one to see that something was wrong with Charlie hurt me deeply but it made me love him even more. Also seeing his cheeky side when it comes to Charlie’s sex life is peak aro/ace romance obsessed behavior.

3. Michael Holden my beloved. Darragh’s portrayal of him is everything - he’s so funny, awkward, and optimistic in every single scene and I just adore him. All of his interactions with Charlie made me fall in love with him even more, and they all just felt so RIGHT. His and Tori’s relationship is wonderful.

4. Tori being the best most beautiful big sister. She has so much love in her but she’s so afraid of letting people in and see her being vulnerable. Her love and anxiety for Charlie is so immense, but she does what she can even when her heart is breaking. I adore her and I’m so looking forward to seeing even more of her in the next season.

5. Nick interacting with Elle, Tara and Imogen on the road trip!!! I love seeing Nick integrate more with that friend group, but allowing him to have those moments of gossip and banter with the girls is beautiful, especially as he’d said previously how he didn’t talk about the deeper stuff with his other friends. Having the girls encourage him to talk - especially Elle causing chaos - was *chefs kiss*.

6. Tao and Nick hugging!!!

7. Charlie, Tao and Isaac’s friendship! I adore seeing them be super huggy and telling each other how much they love each other. Healthy friendships for the win!! No toxic masculinity here!!

8. Tao and Elle’s relationship & his utter adoration of her. The scene where he showed her the video he made of her was so emotionally raw and beautiful and UGH IM OBSESSED

9. Mr Farouk and Mr Ajayi’s soft moments UGH I LOVE THEM. Mr F is one of my fave TV teachers - the way he tells Charlie that he could help so many younger students and you can just tell how much he needed queer rep when was younger!! Ugh I adore these two so much.

[amourdyke]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ✷ 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐄

pjo fanfiction 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✷ your father wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me but i do i think i do, and you’re an all-american girl i guess i couldn’t help trying to be your best american girl ✷ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ooc clarisse, aphrodite’s daughter reader, fake dating, angst and pining

���𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

The words escaped her mouth before she could fully comprehend what was happening. Big bad Clarisse La Rue with a temper to mimic boiling water and the fight skills to ward off teasing has finally been a victim to it irredeemably as lies slipped past her lips spontaneously, unthinking.

“You had a girlfriend this whole time and none of us knew? Yeah, right, Clarisse, you’re full of shit”

“She used to date a Hephaestus chick, alright? Didn’t want anyone pointing out the whole history repeating itself trope of Aphrodite and Ares” A part of her is proud of her trope, a child of Apollo worthy storyline invented last minute, it seemed to not occur to her the way specifics would bite her in the ass until her sibling’s eyes sparkled mischievously, pointing towards the other end of the bonfire at a female figure she had not seen before, though apparently the only one who seemed to match characteristics.

“You mean to say you’re dating angel face over there?”

Your eyes caught hers for the first time in that moment, setting ablaze something at the pit of her stomach that had seemed to lay dormant far too long, hence the beginning of the relentless conversation she found herself in in the first place. “Yeah, that’s her, my girl” she concurs, taking a sip of her drink and staring off into your figure like a predator.

You first met Tori before you were claimed. She would sneak into the Hermes cabin to give you midnight kisses and hide freshly made jewellery she forged instead of armour under your pillow for surprises, adorning your neck in both purple bruises and metal chains, her own special claim on you. Until your mother showed face. It burned you to remember how she spoke, as though not knowing you, like Aphrodite you must be your mother’s daughter. A cheater, she meant. You still dreamed that your only claim was Tori’s kisses and necklaces on days like these where you watched her by the bonfire avoid your every glimpse.

And then someone’s grip is on your arm.

“I wonder what could the most infamous child of Ares possibly want with me” She raises her eyebrows at the nickname from you, someone she had not acknowledged nor recognized before today though the opposite could clearly not be said, the beginning of a smirk ghosting over her features.

“Is that what I am?”

“Don’t play dumb, Clarisse, it’s not your best look, you know exactly what you are, it’s your charm, that is if you’re into the whole bully chic thing”

“I need a favour from you” She wastes no time and you scoff in response, your eyes still seeking out Tori, anxiously hoping she does not see any of this interaction as to not play out scenarios in her head. Clarisse takes none of it. She grabs you by the chin, in a firm yet surprisingly careful hold and forces you to face her, wide brown eyes with a beauty you hadn’t quite recollected before seeing its warm specks up close like firecrackers trapped behind her irises. You shake off the thought and cross your arms.

“Why would I do you any favours? I bet you don’t even know my name, hell, I bet you don’t even know who I am in general–”

“You’re my girlfriend”

“I beg your pardon?” You nearly choke and Clarisse laughs.

“I’ve been watching you. You’ve been staring at that raven haired Hephaestus girl for the last forty minutes uninterrupted while I can quite easily point out at least six girls who have been drooling to get your attention in the last sixty and you haven’t even spared them a pity glance, so I’m going to guess that’s your ex?”

“What does that have to do with anything besides the fact you’re apparently a fucking stalker?”

“Feisty, angel face” She snarks “I need a girlfriend to get some people off my back for awhile and you apparently want your ex back, so why don’t you use that tiny love focused brain of yours and think for two seconds what makes someone temporarily lose their senses and say, get back together with their ex?”

“You want me to use you to make Tori jealous?”

“Do you really have anything to lose?”

You watch her train, that’s your first date, and it starts off as uninteresting as you guessed it would be. Until she’s flexing a little too much, and you’re catching on, of course, but it’s working, because you’re suddenly focused, mouth agape as she lifts up her shirt exposing her perfectly sculpted abdomen to clean sweat off her forehead with the orange cloth.

“Having fun gawking?” She teases.

“Isn’t that what you brought me here for?”

Clarisse twists her spear around in the air and finally settles it behind her flexed arms, moving towards you as she looks around the training grounds for something, eyes sparkling at the sight of a similar weapon to hers “You know how to fight, angel face?”

“I’m a demigod, Clarisse” She feigns fright at your words before rolling her eyes and moves to throw the spare spear towards you, which you take in hands overwhelmed. She steps back and motions you forward which for whatever reason you comply, before you know it her breath is hot on your neck, a whisper: “Your little ex is watching”

She wasn’t entirely truthful. Tori was there, but she barely spared you a glance. Clarisse’s siblings however watched her every move, and she was preparing a spectacle. Positioning herself behind you, hands on your waist as to fix your stance, she dismissed the way her fingers seemed to physically burn at the sensation of your skin desperately seeking out to touch you more and focused on pointing your aim at the dummy before you. It strikes him right in the heart first try and falls backwards on itself. You’re beaming. Clarisse’s chest squeezes. She forgets to let go of your love handles until you turn around.

“You look pretty when you’re deadly” She casually lets out, a sigh.

“Did Tori see your hands on me?” You look around, an attempt at casually catching your exes eye. You miss the way Clarisse frowns when she agrees nonchalantly. One of her siblings winks, she thinks to herself this was too much trouble.

“Okay I think that’s enough performing for a day”

“You’ll hurt me this way, princess. Can’t stand me that much? I don’t get it, did I dunk one of your friends on the toilet or something?”

“I don’t understand”

“Playing dumb isn’t your look either” Clarisse mimics your first encounter as she stares daggers at you. She looks like she could see right through your soul and it sends shivers down your spine.

“You really don’t remember me, huh?” You scoff, and Clarisse is furrowing her brows and attempting to dive into her memory but you’re quicker to refresh it “My first year here I was like a lost and kicked puppy. And you were the girl who killed the monster who nearly killed me and actually killed my satyr protector. I guess it was just another day for you but it was my worst nightmare and you were a fucking knight in shining armor, I thought so anyways. I followed you around for months, and what does it say that you didn’t even know my name until two days ago? You are probably the one most self centered person I have ever met and I was a stupid little girl with a crush who thought you could save me while you actively terrorised everyone who was nice to you. Including me. And you don’t even remember taunting me, because it was just another fucking wednesday. So maybe I’m not enthusiastic about playing your girlfriend for longer than I have to”

It suddenly dawns on her, the memory of you. You looked different now, she guessed those were some perks of growing up as an Aphrodite kid but staring at your face, hurt expression, made the resemblance uncanny. To the one person she regretted hurting. She had just lost a fight and you had ran after her for comfort, but Ares had seen it. So there was nothing you could say. She wanted someone to hurt like she was hurting as though it would take her own pain away. She lost the fucking fight because she looked for you in the audience as she was winning. Affection made her weak. She made you pay for it.

“You called me a stupid girl who doesn’t know when to leave people alone and that’s why no one could stand me. Ring a bell?” You turned around to leave when Clarisse was silent. She surprised herself when she spoke up.

“Well let me teach you to hate me less!” She called out, running her hand through her curls frantically “We can’t do this if you don’t stand the sight of me, my siblings won’t buy it, your ex girlfriend who knows you certainly won’t either. Let’s go out and talk and maybe you’ll like something about me, I don’t know”

“Why does it matter so much to you that you have a girlfriend? Why do your siblings care? Answer me this and I might go with you”

“Fucking Gods, you’re insufferable” She mutters “Because I’m tired of being the one with no life, okay? All I have is training, and everyone knows that and I hate when they start worrying so I need anything to ward it off and I guess relationship maybe screams reason to live and not dying to be a war martyr so this is what I got, okay? It’s stupid, but it’s what I got”

“Alright”

“Alright?”

“I’ll try to like you, Clarisse”

She leads you to the forest in the middle of the night as to not alert anyone. The moon is full and it lights up her face in a way that softens her usually rough features. It is strange how your hands meet eachothers halfway in a hold until you reach your destination, a lake surrounded by flowers. You’re taking off your clothes, stripping into underwear before Clarisse could even fully process it, her eyes widening at the sight of your unbuttoning jeans reaching your calves, then the floor.

“Aren’t you coming?” You say as you stumble into the water. She watches you, the same way she had at the bonfire, and feels guilt pool at her throat for the way she gazed at your body. Clarisse wants to put a word to her feeling and all that comes to mind is hungry. She feels hungry. Like she could bite into your skin and tarnish its softness, like she needs to.

She takes off her clothes as well, skin still hot despite the cold air embracing her suddenly. You watch her too, she notices. Though she can’t pinpoint the look in your eye as she walks into the lake and heads towards you, stopping until your chests barely touch. There’s unusual heavy breathing from the both of you, hypnotised. You’re sure you won’t speak of it tomorrow.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m trying to find things to like about you, work with me here”

“I like red. Like blood”

“Like love” Clarisse doesn’t bother to reply to your argument, but it makes a part of her shake. War and romance unfortunately have too many things in common, she notes to herself.

“My turn. Why do you want your ex back?”

“Because she was good to me. She was kind and soft and she liked me. I miss feeling like someone cares like that”

“Aren’t you Aphrodite’s daughter? Doesn’t that sound a little like the bare minimum? She’s good to you? She’s kind? Didn’t she stop being those things when it ended?”

“You don’t know anything about relationships, Clarisse, you’ve never had one. I’m difficult, I’m a cheater’s kid, I’m–”

“You’re beautiful. Breathtaking, like your mom. Maybe that’s the only thing you got from her. You can aim. You’re strong. You’re apparently vengeful at least towards me which in my books is an attractive quality, you’re witty and you get little crinkles around your eyes when you laugh. I’m going to guess you didn’t cheat on that ex of yours so you’re not an asshole, for sure not a cheater. You give people chances when they don’t deserve it. I’m not quite following what could be so damn difficult about you”

You stay silent for awhile. Thinking. She hates herself for not knowing what it is that you think, and regrets saying so many things in your quietness. Then you whisper something she doesn’t catch and she asks you to say it again and in clear noise it sounds as shocking as it did when she first thought to have tricked her ears: “You never had a relationship, have you ever been kissed?”

Clarisse shakes her head no.

“Can I kiss you?” You correct yourself as you lean in, placing a curl behind her ear “Just in case we need to do this in front of your siblings or Tori, so we’re ready”

“Right” Clarisse mumbles as her hands snake her way around your waist pulling your body closer to fully press against hers “Just in case” she finishes whispering before her lips finds yours. There’s more desire than you both thought there would be. It’s desperate. Messy. Tongues clashing and chests heaving. She wants to taste you forever. She thinks she’s screwed.

[chalkscene]

fruits basket ⇢ WOULD YOU KISS ME FOR $10 OR THE PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD FOR $700?

ft. kyo sohma, yuki sohma, hatsuharu sohma & hatori sohma x f!reader (separate)

“hi,” you greet KYO with a perky tone that has him eyeing you suspiciously as you sidle up next to him. “what are you up to?” he asks and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “nothing. i just wanted to ask you something.” kyo doesn’t respond but he’s looking at you in anticipation so you continue, “would you kiss me for $10 or the prettiest girl in the world for $700?” it’s his turn to give you a quick eye roll which earns him a playful slap on the arm. “answer my question.” he sighs in resignation before replying definitively, “i’d kiss you for ten dollars.” “wow,” you drawl but a teasing smile tugs at your lips, “so you don’t think i’m the prettiest girl in the world?” kyo lightly bonks your head. “i already answered your question.”

over video call, you’re halfway through a game of 20 questions with YUKI when you ask him, “would you kiss the prettiest girl in the world for $700 or me for only ten bucks?” and you don’t expect him to already come up with an answer in an instant. “normally,” he says with emphasis, pausing for a second before he continues, “i’d kiss you.” you immediately feel your eyes turn into saucers. “what do you mean ‘normally’?!” yuki cracks up but he doesn’t relent, “i’m in college. i would need the money.” “i’m actually gonna break up with you.” he laughs harder at the empty threat before schooling his features as if to appease you, “you know you’re the most beautiful girl to me. i’d kiss you for 700 dollars.” “nice save.”

minutes have passed since you asked HATSUHARU your question yet all you’ve gotten from him so far is the blank expression on his face—he seems to be pondering over it as he stares into the distance. “so…” you speak, easing him out of his thoughts, “what’s your answer?” he then looks you in the eye and says, “i’d kiss you.” at the tip of your tongue sits a teasing comment in an attempt to dare hatsuharu to name someone prettier than you but he cuts you off with a kiss, his lips on yours, immediately wiping the smirk off your face. when he eventually pulls away, his expression is still as neutral as ever. “that’s ten dollars.” bastard.

“hi, tori.” you walk over to HATORI where he’s sat at his desk, reading some files at the moment but he doesn’t mind your intrusion into his workspace. “hi, sweetheart.” “you busy?” “i have time,” he says as he takes off his glasses. “okay. i have a question.” hatori swivels in his chair away from his table, making room for you to sit on his lap which you happily do. “okay,” you repeat, “would you kiss me for ten dollars or the prettiest girl in the world for 700?” that is the last thing hatori expected to come out of your mouth but he decides to play along, taking his time to mull it over. “just say i’m ugly,” you joke which elicits a chuckle from him. “you know i don’t think that.” “then what’s your answer?” “i would kiss you,” he says sincerely. as soon as he catches the telltale sign of you holding back a smirk, he quickly adds, “don’t ask-” “who’s prettier than me then?” you interrupt, satisfied with yourself when hatori only sighs. he knew it.

[mixelation]

yeah you know what guys. "...and titted downward" CAN be canon to plasticity

obito: so what was.... the process here

tori: (clutching her unhinged ItaDei femslash RPF) deidara was mad itachi has more weird rpf than him, so i told him i'd write him one so hot he'd get more popular

obito: okay. weird but a regular sort of weird for this cast of characters. why did you run in yelling 'i fucked up'

tori, shaking: well, you see, i was trying to think of what would really blow people's minds, and i realized there's a startling lack of femslash in the rpf world, so i wrote a genderswap

obito: genderswap porn. of someone you know. sure

tori: and like, look, have you heard Deidara talk about how he'd fuck a clone of himself? i wanted girl Deidara to just be, super hot, because he'd like that. so i gave her huge tits.

obito: right. totally normal decision making.

tori: but then you have to understand, i was reading some rpf to see what people seemed to like, and everyone writes itachi wrong

obito: of course they do

tori: itachi is OBVIOUSLY a sub

obito:

obito, discovering new troll emotions: holy shit, tori

tori, voice cracking: i wrote a novella-length genderswap deidara fucking itachi

obito: tori you beautiful maniac, how did you get this far and not stop

tori, on the brink of tears: it gets worse

obito, delighted, has never heard anything better in his life: how can it be worse

tori: i wrote them in love.

obito:

obito:

obito, wiping away a tear: they are both going to completely lose their minds. you are going to die terribly.

obito: i love you, let me edit it