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cumbunnywitch · 10 months

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Red Sun, Pink Moon Chapter 4

Hey so normally I do this on Fridays but my power went out thanks to some massive storm that took out power to like half a million people yesterday. Anyway, here's the Tumblr post for chapter four (I think Chapter 3 is missing on Tumblr but if you wanna read it it's on AO3)

Again, it's gonna look way better over there, so I recommend you look there if you can!

(Content warning: Physical Abuse)

"Karalin Denella! In my study!"

Kara visibly recoiled in her bedroom. The mansion was large, but her father's voice carried like a wolf's howl. He had only just returned home after nearly two months in the capital on business. It seemed like this was the end of her summer of fun with her mother.

She knew better than to wait for him to come get her though, and she bolted off her bed towards her father's study. "Yes sir, I'm here. Wha-"

"Explain this!" He shouted again, throwing down the letter from Bremerton.

"I'm not sure what you mean, father. I scored second overall, and first in technique." Kara tried to explain, but she could only see the bulging veins on her father's temple.

"This is completely unacceptable! You are a Denella. My legacy is not to be tarnished with your insolent excuses!" He grabbed the paper and waved it around again, gold bordering flashing in the lamplight.

"Father, the only explanation I can think of is that the proctors were not impartial, and decided to grade Lilia higher as a handicap for her status."

The look in Darius's eyes felt like it could burn through steel. Kara did her best to hold herself up; inside, though, she felt like her stomach was in a blender.

"You would blame the proctors and the headmaster for your own failure? The indignity of your excuses are beyond unacceptable. I struggle to believe you're even my daughter." The poison in his words brought the first tear to Kara's eyes.

"Don't you dare cry, you've got no excuse," Darius barked at her. "If you want a reason to cry, I'll give you one."

Kara stepped back, which only seemed to enrage him further. Then, her mother's words came back to her and she decided to fight fire with fire. "Well, dad, at least we're the same now. From what I hear you were second every year you attended."

The smirk was quickly wiped off her face, however, when her father's palm clapped against her cheek. Kara fell to the ground in a heap, clutching her face. "No child of mine should ever dare make the mistake to believe themself better than I. Get out."

He pointed to the door, and Kara scrambled backwards, tears running from reddened eyes. His ring had cut her cheek, where blood was starting to drip.

"Get OUT!" He yelled again. Kara fell as the door opened behind her. Her mother entered the room, her fist clenched and surrounded in a ball of ice.

"Darius, calm yourself, before you do something you regret." The cold calmness in her voice did not betray the building rage. True to form, the woman sometimes nicknamed the Ice Witch brought an aura of chill when she readied for any kind of a conflict.

Darius scowled at her, but lowered his hand.

"Touch my daughter again, and they won't find any of the pieces." She threatened. After a moment, she turned to Kara and knelt, helping her back up.

"Kara, darling, go upstairs please. We'll talk shortly." Her hand brushed against her bloody cheek, and Kara could feel the cool touch pulling some of the heat and pain away from her face. She walked away, closing the door behind her.

Before it could close, she could hear her father start to speak again. "You'll never be able to take her from me, Sidra. I own her."

A few hours passed before her mother returned with a knock at the door.

"Kara, dear? May I come in?" She asked, cracking the door just a hair.

"Yes," The girl whimpered out, not bothering to remove her face from the pillow.

"It's going to be okay sweetie. He won't bother you anymore, I promise." Sidra sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her daughter's hair and back.

"I'm going to take you back to school tomorrow. I think being back at the Academy might be better for you right now, with the state he's in. It's only a few weeks early..."

Kara rolled enough to look at her mother from just one eye. "What's going to happen?"

Sidra looked down at her with a sad smile. "I don't know yet honey. I don't want you to worry about that right now. Focus on your studies, no one can take you from me. Do you understand that?"

"Yea. Thank you mom. I'm sorry.." Kara couldn't hold back the sob anymore. She pushed her face into the pillow and cried hard while her mother rubbed her back.

"Oh.. Oh sweet Karalin.. You have nothing to be sorry for. This is not your fault."

They stayed like that for awhile, until Kara finally found the strength to sit up, hug her mother, and cry some more. Tomorrow, they would take a carriage back to Bremerton.

"En garde. Pret. Allez!" Metal flashed suddenly in the light. The whipping sound of the blades through the air, the delicate clinking noises that followed parry after parry before finally someone made contact.

"Arret!" Came the call from the judge. "Touch, blue." He said, pointing the Jarett. That was it, the match was decided.

"Hey, good shit Lils!" He said, removing his mask. Lilia removed hers as well, shaking the older boy's hand.

"Honestly I was scared as hell at the end there, that wind enchantment is crazy!" She said, laughing back. They had ended their practice session with a real, honest match. It wasn't the first time they’d sparred, but it was the first time Lilia had gotten so close to beating her teammate like that.

It took awhile to get her head around the scoring system, but it was essentially first to fifteen touches. They had ended their first three-minute period at four to two, in Lilia's favor, but Jarett quickly came back in the second period to rocket the score up to eight to thirteen. In two quick rounds, he finished the match.

"You have gotten so much better at this though, you'll get the hang of that one soon. Maybe some day you'll even beat me." Jarett laughed, nudging Lilia with his elbow.

"Pssh, only if you throw it, like with the first six points." She pushed back, barely nudging him.

"Oh you uh, you noticed that huh? Well hey I just figured you could use the confidence!" Jarett laughed nervously, looking up at the rafters.

"You don't have to do that, you know. I'm a quick study and you just keep giving away your secrets." She nudged him again, putting more of her weight into it.

"Oh, what arcane secrets have you delved into by reading my book, Junior Mage Lilia?"

"Well, when you feint left your elbow twitches right. Why do you think I always parry those? Also, your back foot comes off the ground during your clockwise parries. Your eyes flick down when you thrust low. And, last one, your front foot moves just a little bit more to the right when you slash high." Lilia looked up at him with the deadest expression she could think of. The disbelief on Jarett's face could have been a painting.

"How did you.."

"I looked at Georgia's notebook. The only one I actually got was the elbow thing, I can barely keep up with everything else. You're really good at this!" She said, her face finally cracking into a smile that had found its home across her lips.

Jarett laughed loudly, and half the fencing club stopped to look at the two before finally continuing on their own. Lilia had made friends with nearly everyone, though there were still some snobs who just didn't want to be friends with anyone, regardless of status or name.

"Alright Lils, you got me, that was good. C'mon, let's get out of here." They finished setting their equipment back in lockers and racks before exiting the club room. Lilia had finally gotten some new clothes to work out in- some tight-fit shirts in various colors, and a few pairs of knee-length shorts with just a bit of stretch in them.

Jarett walked her back to the dorms, as was their tradition by this point. Near enough eight weeks of practicing nearly every day had done a lot to make them friends, even ignoring the camaraderie of being no-names.

"Hey, since you did do pretty good this time, how about we go to that place in town I mentioned awhile back? On me, I've got to congratulate you somehow."

Lilia thought about it for a moment. She'd gone out to town a few times by this point, no longer content to hole-up in her room for months on end. But they were always short trips, and she always had a way out just in case. This would be different.

"You know what.. Sure. You've been asking me for awhile, why not?" Lilia giggled, smiling back at him.

"Alright, I'll go get changed! It's casual but not like ultra casual, you know? Just uhh.. wear something you want I guess?" Jarett was already walking away by the time he started talking. He was strange.

But Lilia didn't mind strange. He was fun and full of energy and actually made her feel like a person again. She went up to her suite and cleaned the sweat and grime off, and changed into a long blue skirt and white blouse. It felt good to have other clothes for once. The school robes weren't terrible, but discovering fashion was definitely something that brought Lilia joy.

Lilia met Jarett outside her dorm as he pushed at leaves using his signature wind magic. "Hey, ready to go?" She asked. He nearly fell off his seat on the decorative bricks of the dorm wall.

"Hi yes. Yes, I'm ready, let's go!" Jarett guided them towards the carriages meant to take students into town for a small fee, walking a step ahead the entire way.

"So, I have a question for you. What kind of person do you like?" He asked, breaking the silence. In the same motion, he paid the toll and opened the door for Lilia. They sat across from one another on the hardly-sufficient two-person benches.

"I'm not really sure what you mean? Like friends? I guess, anyone who's at least kind of smart, nice, gets it when I don't understand a joke or something." Lilia scrunched her face up, a little confused.

"No I mean like.. Romantically." Jarett's eyes refused to meet hers as the carriage started off. It was a short ride to town, only about 5 minutes or so, but it was suddenly a very tense ride.

"Umm.. I don't.. really know. I've never really had-" Lilia paused. She had, in fact, had a crush. The memory made her wince.

"I.. Jarett are you trying to ask me out, halfway through us going to town to eat?"

"I think I did." Jarett said, understanding that this might have been a mistake.

"Jarett, that's.. okay first, don't do that to people, I think this might be called entrapment, but I also know that you know I could blow this carriage sky high." Lilia sighed and put her hand on his knee.

"Listen. You're my friend, probably my best friend, actually. I don't want to ruin that between us, alright?"

"I get it, yea. I'm sorry, we can still go to eat, or I can take you back it's no problem." Jarett said, his eyes still low.

"Hey. Look at me." Lilia snapped the fingers in her other hand. "I still think you're cool as hell. But the main issue is that I'm not into boys."

"Wait, really?" Jarett's eyes shot up to meet Lilia's.

"Yea, I'm mostly into girls. There's some boys that I think are hot but like, not enough to date."

"No no, I don't think you get it Lilia. You are the fifth lesbian I've had a crush on."

They both looked at each other, mouths agape. In an instant, they were jostling the carriage with laughter, quite literally hunched over. They didn't stop laughing before the driver opened the door to let them out. They were still giggling about the fact that this was not only Jarett having a crush on five separate lesbians, but that he totally did have a curse that would only be lifted when he was asked out by another guy.

By the time they had gotten to the restaurant, their spirits had been fully raised, and they ordered enough meat pies to feed the rest of the club. The carriage driver told them off for making the cab smell of gristle, but it hardly mattered at this point.

Kara hadn't left her room since she arrived. It had been three days since her father's hand had left a red welt, and an ugly green-blue bruise on left cheek. Her makeup could hide the bruise, though it stung to put it on, but it hardly helped the still-swollen bump and the healing cut. She had run out of food the food she had squirreled away from the cafeteria, and needed something to eat.

As she left her dorm building, she could hear laughter. Familiar laughter. "Fuck," she whispered. Kara absolutely did not need to be seen by anyone who knew her right now. There was no avoiding being seen, however, and bolting back into the dorm would only drawn more attention. She puts on a stern face and simply starts walking an avoidant path. After a bit of time, she stops hearing laughter. She looks over her shoulder with a makeup mirror, and sees that Lilia and the boy she's with have simply stopped on the walkway. Kara didn't bother to look longer for details, and simply started walking faster.

By the time she gets to the cafeteria, she is holding back tears. The feeling of loneliness has fully set in. It'll be ten days, at least, before Kella and Luna get back from their own break and another four after that before the fall semester begins for their third year. Two weeks. Two weeks before she can return to some kind of 'normal' again.

Kara feels the sting of her tears slowly fall down her face as she nibbles what would normally be considered an absolutely delightful blueberry muffin.

"Oh, hello Miss Karalin. You look rather upset, is everything alright?"

Kara's stomach did a backflip. No. No no no no, not him. Not now. Delax was quite possibly, the last person she wanted to see or hear. It was a three-way tie between him, her father, and Lilia fucking Quinn, and she is zero for two on the day.

"Yes, Professor," she lied. She did not want to get into it with him. "I just received some unfortunate news is all."

Kara hid the bump on her face with her hand, and took another bite of her muffin.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Delax replied, placing his hand on her shoulder while standing behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up like a cactus, and a chill ran down her spine. "If you need to talk, my office is open for you."

Delax left to go get a bit of dinner of his own. Kara didn't bother staying. She gathered the rest of her wrapped pastries and practically sprinted out of the building. She walked as casual-looking as she could back to her dorm building, patting her tears while trying not to ruin her makeup. She opened the door only to see, yet again, Lilia, talking with two other girls.

Zero for three. Luckily, that pink haired little shit was looking the other way, and she made a dash for the stairs.

"Kara?"

"Leave me alone you fucking no-name!" She replied, the tears immediately starting back up. She ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"Kara wait!" Lilia yelled after her. She almost stopped. The instinct to stop and pour her eyes out on her former best friend's shoulder was strong, but the fear at becoming a social pariah was stronger, and so her legs kept pushing. She didn't slow down when she reached the landing. She didn't stop until her door slammed behind her and she fell in a heap on her bed.

"Yea he really did! It was hilarious, I can't believe I was his fifth!" Lilia laughed with the other girls, whom Jarett had introduced her to. They were two of the girls that had a nearly identical reaction to Jarett's confession, and were going into fourth year along with him. They laughed for awhile at the sheer absurdity of how this boy managed such a feat, each suggesting that the curse was entirely real and guessing various ways he might be able to break it. He was a good guy, however, and everyone got to remain friendly. Sasha was actually on the fencing team, but had taken the summer off to visit family.

They had just finished up their conversation when they heard the dorm doors open. Technically, Lilia wasn't supposed to be in this building, and would need to hide should the dorm staff actually show up as to avoid any trouble.

It wasn't any kind of staff though, but a tear-stained Kara, carrying an armful of cafeteria snacks. Her makeup had worn away now, and the ugly bruise beneath was getting pretty clear. She definitely did not look like her usual overly-confident-reaching-arrogant self, though. Lilia knew Kara hated her by now, but the urge to be a decent human being overrode any reason to think about not speaking up.

"Kara?" She called out. The redhead replied with her usual poison, but being called a no-name didn't seem to hit so hard when the everyone else never really seemed to care.

Sasha tried to speak up, to make sure Lilia was okay, but Lila didn't care. "Kara, wait!" She yelled out as the girl nearly tripped on her own feet up the stairs. A few seconds later, a door slammed on the second floor.

"Okay, what the fuck was that?" Lilia asked, thinking either of her new friends might know something.

"Nobody really knows. She's been stuck in her room for a few days, hasn't really come out since she got back." Sasha replied, a hint of disdain in her voice.

"Wait," Lilia shook her head. "When did she even get back? Her father takes her back from breaks, I think. Tradition or something."

"Like... three days ago? The Ice Witch dropped her off." Sasha chimed in.

"The.. Ice Witch?" Lilia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yea, Sidra Denella. She's a war-mage, best Ice Magic user in the kingdom, maybe the world." Sasha said, matter-of-factly. "She's Kara's mom. I hear she's actually a real sweet lady, shame she raised a girl like that."

"I mean.. I met her dad." Lilia said, looking at the staircase, deciding whether or not to take the chance.

"You met Darius? And fucking lived?" Zeliim asked, shock clear on her face. "That guy hates anyone he thinks isn't good enough. Like, other legacy families that have been around longer than him, he's honestly a complete prick." She paused and the girls looked at each other.

"Okay, yea, I can see how Kara turned out like that." Sasha finally conceded. "Listen though, she probably needs some space. She's had that bump since before she got back, just chill out. We know you used to hang out a lot, but you might be too much for her right now, alright?"

Lilia listened to the older girl. She didn't quite get emotions sometimes, or when someone needed space or to talk or what she should do when they did want to talk. She knew what loneliness and isolation looked like, though, and couldn't just do nothing.

Lilia turned back towards the girls. "Can you two do me a favor? Please?" She held her hands up, already pleading, and ready to beg should she need.

"Yea, we'll keep an eye on her. Raging bitch or not." Zeliim replied. Sasha reached down and grabbed Zeliim's hand.

"You're better than me, Z. But yes, we'll make sure she doesn't at least starve to death or jump out a window or something."

"Thank you. And uh... I guess sorry for making it weird, I know you said you were heading out." Lilia scratched the back of her head, trying her best to look innocent.

"Nah it's nothing. It was great meeting you though, feel free to stop by if you need anything. I'll actually be at any matches Z is at, so we'll see you around anyway."

"Well, thank you anyway. I'll see you around." They left the dorm together. Sasha and Zeliim walked down the path towards the carriages Lilia had just return on a few short hours ago. Lilia wasn't sure exactly where to go. Eventually, she walked back to her dorm. If Kara needed some space, Lilia would at least try to honor that.

#red sun pink moon #creative writing #original fiction #f/f romance #slow burn #physical abuse #content warning

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doevademe · 1 year

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I just finished reading Beastly by Alex Flinn and my percico brain rot is so bad I just can’t stop thinking about it. A Nico who post Bianca never really interacted with Percy or the camp again. Nico sticking to the shadows, doing the things he needs to canonically then dipping. To everyone at camp he’s just a blur they sometimes see in the corner of their eye. He shows up to battles or to save Percy but he’s gone before anyone can talk to him. And Percy’s been watching him mature from the corner of his eye, always a second too late to just get him to stay, and his heart aches.

Then there’s Nico who’s spiteful and hurt still because he never really got closure and still woefully in love with Percy. But he’s mean and thinks he’s unlovable and pushes people away. The closest person he has to him is maybe Hazel but he has so many walls up that there relationship just isn’t what it’s like in canon. And then Nico is still hung up over the way Hades treated him at the start. So even their relationship is strained even though Nico is the hero Hades has always wanted in a son.

But then maybe after the Athena Parthenon Nico is done with social interaction, Will had forced him to stay at camp to recover but he’d left as soon as he was able. A minor god or goddess sends him on a quest and maybe he fails or maybe he just annoys them with how pissy he’s being but they put a curse on him.

“Now you are as ugly on the outside as you believe yourself to be on the inside. Prove yourself lovable and my curse will be lifted.”

The only person he can go to is hades who is furious. His son, whose helped save the world twice has been turned into a beast like the creatures he slays. So he sets up Nico in a nice little brownstone where Nico becomes even more of a recluse.

There’s a scene in the book in which Adrian talks about giving up the name Kyle because it means handsome one, and it’s very funny to me. But i think in the same vein Nico would give up the name Victory ya know? Especially a Nico who’s had such little interaction with other people. This Nico wouldn’t think he was a winner, but I have no clue what he’d name himself.

Anyways Hades sends along a maid, so Nico won’t be entirely alone, Nico doesn’t know it but it’s the god who cursed him, having been forced to attend to his needs by an irate Hades. Maybe we see another familiar face to go in and tutor him or maybe it’s an oc, just someone who takes the role and makes Nico finally open his heart.

And he’s okay with them. He starts to care about them the only people he’s had consistent contact with since Bianca but then Percy Jackson tumbles into his life. Needing a place to lay low or something and Nico(who’s totally pretending to not be Nico) takes him in. Cares about him the way he’s cared for the god and his tutor. And then we get a sweet ending in which Nico saves him from a monster, they kiss and admit their love and Nico returns to how he used to look.

I don’t know, all the logistics are tumbling around in my head and I think itd be such a convoluted story but then I think of all the implications and I wanna cry. Can you imagine the scenes with bob?? Percy learning that Nico a boy he hasn’t spoken to in years is singing his praise to the titan he’d forgotten 😭😭😭 or even Percy being chained up by hades before the river styx. I just imagine Nico who had no clue about his fathers plans coming and saving him, and Percy feels so betrayed and Nico let’s him and then shoves him in the Styx because might as well if Percy’s already down here.

Anyways this isn’t really a prompt but more me needing to get rid of all these thoughts before I start another wip I’ll never finish 😅 maybe I still will but I was very excited by all the possibilities. Any thoughts if I do end up writing it? I love your writing and characterization, got any ideas on who would be his tutor or what he’d change his name to?

Okay, the story idea is quite fascinating. My first thought is that Nico has always been an extrovert who is misunderstood as an introvert due to his own traumas and holdbacks, so being transformed would just play further into that. He would be very low energy and socially starved, which may cause his lashing out at the god who curses him.

As for the tutor, I offer either Aceso or Zelus. The former due to being the goddess of the healing process, and her curse would be a way for Nico to "heal himself", so to speak, and the latter is the god of jealousy and fervor, so him being petty enough to curse Nico but also growing to care for him makes sense (he would also be a good foil to Nico's own negative feelings).

As for the name, I honestly have no idea. From this page on bad name meanings, Damian or Huxley sound appropriate, but renaming is not something I have experience with.

#I hope I helped #even if you never write it #thanks for sharing it #ask #anonymous #jacksangelo #long post

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bloodychazorite · 1 year

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Ablaze, the Flames of Torment

(Also posted on AO3! Please check it out for the warnings if you need them, stay safe! <33)

Blood.

It was all Vyncent could see for miles.

His senses were overwhelmed with corroded corpses of the people he knew.

The people he loved.

“Oh… my God…” William breathed shakily.

“Perhaps I should have given a warning before we came across this.” Minerva murmured, clasping her hands together.

Vyncent felt as though his head was plunged into a bucket of ice water. He swallowed thickly.

“I know it’s a sight.”

William looked as sick as Vyncent felt and Dakota seemed to be in a state of silent shock.

“This… is your home?” The redhead spoke softly, like if he were any louder something would shatter.

The tone of his voice made Vyncent want to be sick. That tone of soft pity, surprise and disgust. Never would that tone have been used years ago.

When the town was full of nothing but life.

Vyncent slipped his shoes off and moved forward a bit with heavy steps. Minerva did the same, a solemn look on her face. Will looked confused but quickly scrambled to remove his as well.

Minerva, through her sorrow, looked mildly amused. “It’s disrespectful to walk over someone’s final resting place with shoes. At least, for the Elvish anyways.”

“Oh, yes, okay, sorry.”

“I didn’t have shoes to begin with!”

Soft buzzing filled Vyncent’s ears as he trekked farther into the open village.

He hadn’t had time to fully process it since he got to Prime, but the events of this festival constantly haunted the edges of his mind.

“I’d like to grab something from my home, if that’s alright.” Minerva said, brushing dirt off her blouse.

Vyncent couldn’t bring himself to speak so he nodded faintly.

“Accompany me, William? I may need some magical assistance.”

“Oh, uhh… sure, I guess.”

If Vyncent concentrated, he could almost find traces of apprehension in Will’s voice.

“Will you two be okay here?” He asked, making a strange expression at Dakota.

“Yeah, we’ll be all good, no worries!” Dakota said back, flashing a small thumbs up. He intertwined his pinky with Vyncent’s and glanced over, looking a bit expectant.

Minerva motioned William off, and they were gone without another word.

Vyncent blinked slowly, trying to force himself to process the image before him.

He lumbered forward, gently tugging on Dakota’s hand as he pressed forward. The ground was sandy and dead beneath his feet. As if the magic and livelihood had been sucked from the veins of the island, every plant and animal was horribly silent.

“Vyn?” Dakota pressed softly.

“Hm.”

“Are you sure you wanna do… this? We can always wait outside the entrance.”

Vyncent felt sick. But what choice did he have?

He tried to push out a simple no, but his voice eluded him.

Was it getting darker?

His vision began to fuzz.

After a few seconds of silence, Dakota stepped in front of him, waving his hand.

He released a shuddery breath, head beginning to spin.

For a flash, Dakota’s face looked viscerally burnt as chunks of flesh dripped from his bones.

Vyncent could feel his breath quicken as his heart tried to burst from his chest. His head spun as his stomach lurched violently, threatening to spill its contents from a few hours before.

“Vyn?”

He wrapped his hands around his torso, attempting to pull himself from his haunting memories. He tried to speak, to make the pain stop, but all he could do was mumble.

He stepped backward and his left knee nearly gave out after stepping on an old bone which gave a sickening, resounding crack.

Whose was that?

Vyncent lurched forward as a bolt of pain ripped through his skull, as if he’d been struck. Ice swirled up his spine.

“Vynce. Vynce. You’re hurting yourself, dude, breathe.”

Dakota was going to be nothing but mush and bones at this point.

His heart was going to explode.

Their souls were everywhere.

He could do nothing but watch as they burnt and writhed and shrieked and cried.

Vyncent could feel them tugging on his conscience and imprinting their memories into his brain. They were angry and screaming and scared and hurt and in pain and gods, they were everywhere-

Uzayc, who would always invite him out to paint, was draped over a broken food stand with his intestines splayed on the ground and decaying.

Ontari, who brought him potions when he got sick from food poisoning, was scorched from the chest up.

Hyida, who’s bright brown eyes shone when the sun hit them just right, had her skull grotesquely split open.

Kizan, who made him a flower crown once during The Festival of Utopia, had a rotting gash directly through his stomach.

Iza and her older brother Sorazan, who never stopped fighting, died in each other's arms.

And Virion watched.

Virion stood still and watched as they had their lives taken from them.

Virion was a coward.

And they all knew it.

A girl who he--somehow--recognized to be T’naya lifted her head from the ashes. reached up from the flaming hellscape. If he tried hard enough, he could picture the constellation of freckles that dotted her face and her gap-toothed smile through the flames. Now, though, all Virion could see were maggots worming her eyes and bits of her muscle slipping from her skeleton.

She grabbed both of his hands and tilted her head upward even further. Her grip was as strong as iron and as hot as coals. Her touch felt as though it sent flames under his skin, painfully flaring where she touched.

It burned.

The eyes of a thousand flicked to stare him down.

A thousand more mouths opened to utter a single word.

“Coward.”

—

“Vyn?”

Dakota stared in horror as Vyncent dug his nails into his skin and blood began to drip down his arms. He whined sharply.

“Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Vyn, man, you’re fine.” He stressed, wondering if he should run to go grab William or stay and try to calm Vyncent himself.

He stumbled back but flinched forward when he stepped on a stray bone and snapped it in half. He gasped and shuddered.

William would know what to do.

But Vynce would tear himself apart by the time he got back at this rate.

Panic began to flood Dakota’s own mind. “Vynce. Vynce. You’re hurting yourself, dude, breathe.”

What could he do to help? Vyncent normally didn’t care for touch, so maybe that wouldn’t be the right approach. Or was it the opposite now? He was sensitive to sound, would not talking help? How was Dakota supposed to get him to stop hurting himself if he couldn’t speak to or touch him?

William would know what to do.

Vyncent ripped down his arms, creating long, brutal bleeding scratches across his biceps. In a panic, he quickly lunged forward to grab Vyncent’s hands to stop him from harming himself any further.

He finally--finally--looked up at him, eyes blown wide and dazed with a wild terror. He froze, tears welling.

Dakota tried not to hold his wrist too tight in fear of breaking it.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.”

His words did nothing to calm the other. Vyncent sobbed harshly and slowly sank to his knees. Another soft whine escaped his lips.

Dakota loosened his hold.

William would know what to do.

He glanced around, biting his lip.

Vyncent curled in on himself, rocking back and forth.

“Vynce, I…” He trailed off, afraid of making things worse than he already had.

William.

The expression on Vyn’s face made his stomach hurt.

Go get William.

“...Hang in there, Vyn. I’ll be back, I promise.”

—

William heard Minerva sigh heavily from a room in the back.

Half of her house was gone and the other half was entirely ransacked and trashed. Bloodstains covered a few of the large doorways and overgrowth split a few of the floorboards in half.

He couldn’t even remotely imagine going back to his home and seeing it covered in vines, blood and filth. All the people in Deadwood massacred like this. His heart stuttered as he envisioned all the people--the innocent people--that had to have died to create this much gore.

For a moment he almost envied Vyncent and Minerva for even being able to take a step into this ghost town.

He wondered faintly where Vyncent’s old home was.

William had a slight idea of what happened here from the Elf’s vague, offhand comments.

Never could he have thought it was this horrible.

William could feel broken wood boards creaking beneath his feet as he stepped forward.

Minerva huffed once more and stepped out of the backroom, eyes slightly tinted red. She swept her violet hair behind her shoulder and clasped her hands in front of her. “I… couldn’t find what I was looking for. My apologies for the wasted time.”

“Umm… wh-what are you looking for? I-I… I might be able to help in some way.” Will stuttered, tracing the ground with his eyes. If he could help in some way, he would do it.

“A book. Thick, magical. You’ve got a hand in sorcery, so you may feel it before you see it.”

“Right, okay, yeah.”

William assumed that was permission to look through her house.

He glanced around, feeling uneasy. He moved over to a half-broken bookshelf and began sifting through its contents. The books ranged from history to fables, but he couldn’t find a single spellbook.

Feel it before you see it.

He wondered if he could expand his magic field and sense the book somehow. How could he even go about that?

William closed his eyes and felt focused, grasping for anything magical in the area.

Softly, faintly, he could hear his name being called.

William…

William.

“William!”

He jolted at the sound of his voice being called in the very real world.

William quickly ran to what was left of the doorframe to see a mess of red, gold, and brown bolting from door to door. He caught sight of the ravenette and–somehow–picked up speed, just barely stopping himself before they both ended up on the ground.

William was inclined to make a joke, but the frantic look reflected in Dakota’s eyes made him pause.

“What? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Vynce..!” He gasped, wrapping his hands around Will’s wrists, “I-... he’s having some sort of panic attack and I didn’t know what to do so… I thought I’d come get you..!”

“Wha-! And you thought I’d know what to do?”

“You two spent almost a year alone together! Why wouldn’t you know what to do?”

“Because I was never the one doing the comforting!”

“Just-!” Dakota threw his arms up in the air and then thrust them down, reddening with frustration. “William, please! We could not have less time for this! Come on!”

The redhead grabbed his hand tight and pulled him forward, nearly yanking him across the dirt pathways. “K-Kota!”

The two made it back around the entrance of the village, and William’s heart wrenched seeing the sight before him.

Vyncent looked terrified, face flushed and smeared with tears. His fingernails were caked with crimson and raw scratches slit his arms.

William gnawed on his lip, trying to calm himself before he moved onto Vyncent. “Hey, hey, hey,” He stressed.

Blood dripped from under Vyncent’s nails. He wheezed and shuddered, muttering things in a language William couldn’t understand.

“Vyncent, you’re having a panic attack, alright? You’re uhh… you’re gonna be okay. I’m not gonna leave you. I won’t go anywhere.” He knelt down.

He could see self-reproach on Dakota’s face out of the corner of his eye.

One issue at a time.

William placed a hand on Vyncent’s and his eyes flicked upwards, filled with pure panic.

“Vyncent. Can you hear my voice right now?”

“No more, no more please…”

“We’re gonna be alright, we’re gonna be alright.”

William pressed his hands against Vyncent’s face, thumbing away tears. A gentle flash of recognition shown in his eyes. He sobbed and leaned into the other’s touch.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Vynce, really.”

Vyncent buried his face in William’s neck, shivering.

“I want my home back. I want my people, I want my Momma.”

William felt his heart shatter. “...I’m sorry.”

“I betrayed them all. I left everyone to die. I didn’t mean to, I swear, I swear.”

“You didn’t, Vynce, you survived. They wouldn’t be angry at you for living. They shouldn’t be anyways, I dunno. My point is,” William gently rubbed his back, going silent for a second. “You’re okay Vyn. You’re gonna be okay.”

Vyncent shook with a tragic intensity, his tail wrapping around the shorter’s torso and squeezing tightly.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

They sat in each other’s arms for a while, and Dakota sidled up next to them after a bit as well. William listened silently to Vyncent’s uneven breathing, mulling over the events of the past few minutes.

“I bet your home was pretty.” Dakota offered quietly, smoothing his thumbs over his knuckles.

“...It was,” Vyncent whispered, “Really pretty. Wish you coulda seen it all lit up.”

William nodded, recalling all the unspecific descriptions he was given through a voice filled with thinly-veiled emotions.

“I wish too.” He replied softly, nuzzling in closer.

They sat in each other’s embrace for a while, wallowing in sorrow.

They had missions to complete, monsters to kill, people to save,

For now, though, those things could wait just a bit longer. For now, they were the much more pressing matter to each other.

#jrwi #jrwishow #jrwi prime defenders #jrwi pd #vyncent sol #william wisp #dakota cole #writing #ao3fic #long post #hope this is alright!#<333 #Bizly #Condifiction #Slimecicle #Grizzlyplays

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kerra-and-company · 1 year

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@just-eyris-things Okay, we’re trying this again asl;kdjfasdf--the original ask posted before I was done with it, and then I couldn’t edit the post properly. So! Round 2!

Thanks so much for the ask!! :D <3 <3 This is from a bit ago now, but I am choosing to cash in my free ask :) You get some assorted songs that correspond with characters, with brief explanations, because I feel like talking about that for a bit. Hope you enjoy!!

This one is for Kerra and her Wyld Hunt, but also her and herself/her trauma in some ways. To pick out a couple key bits, this first verse is Baby!Kerra:

The first day that we met I saw you out of the corner Of my eye, I was 5 You're still the thumb that I'm under

This bit is LWS1 Kerra:

On the wall I was 10, you were more than a feeling By my side, unwanted The sun would see you come creeping Made of fear I was strong There's no shame to have you here Where you belong

And last but not least, this bit is Kerra at the end of HoT:

I see it's only me needing You back there behind me In my soul I feel like Maybe we'll be friends But you're holding me back Yeah, you're holding me back And I just want to run Dear shadow

This song is very Cal--to the point that when I heard it for the first time, I immediately put it on their playlist. First of all, the first line is "Create with me a work of art", which is perfect for them. Second, there's a couple more bits that I'll highlight.

This gives me vibes for how they felt leaving Ascalon and heading to Kryta over two years after the Searing:

Sitting here stuck in my head while the sun is just rising Come on, it's late, and we know we're the lone survivors

This bit just is...kinda how they are as a leader, and (in the first couple lines there) a bit how they are as a romantic partner to Daisy:

You're all that I've got, when it's dark, I have a light I finished the line, but my heart's on my own time Don't you wanna push, don't you wanna fight, don't you ever talk to your mind? You can make that come alive

And overall, it's just very them. "Let's see what we can do", indeed.

This one is Nabi, and though it's kinda bouncy, it's related (to me) to the fact that she chose to fight a lifelong battle against the Ministry of Purity and made a huge impact on the world by doing so, even if she couldn't stop them completely. Anyways, my point is that this is her:

You could give me hell You could give me death Right before I bend I will have revenge

Fire through my veins I will fan the flames Until my dying breath

'Cause I will never go down Any other way

I mentioned this one the other day, but this is a song for Brook and Casca--they're both the couple that's distanced from each other according to the lyrics and the couple meeting in the music video for the song. They find each other after years apart and thinking that the other is most certainly dead.

Nobody gets me like you do I'm not the same, not after you So many things that we've been through I'm not the same, not after All that's been said and done I don't even feel like I’m back at one Nobody gets me like you do I’m not the same, not after you

This song is the reason that Daisy's mother's name is Grace. She has a very close bond with her mother, who more-or-less raised her alone from the time Daisy was five.

Guess I got it from her, no I’m not sorry for it

Yeah I’m my mother’s daughter So glad I get the honor Yeah I’m my mother’s daughter Turns out I’m a little like Grace

This one goes out to all the Secondborn sylvari :)

See, I was born the second child With a spirit running wild, running free And they saw trouble in my eyes They were quick to recognize the devil in me See, I was born a restless child And I could hear the world outside calling me And heaven knows how hard I tried But the devil whispered lies I believed Can you hear it hanging on the wind? Can you feel it underneath your skin? You've got to go on, further than you've ever gone You've got to run far from all you've ever known

One of the songs that I think was originally intended to mean something slightly different, but it's on Nisha's playlist, because in the context of xem, it sounds like a Nisha-falling-in-love song. Letting down walls, being willing to get hurt, letting others in.

Maybe I'll crash into you Maybe we would open these wounds We're only alive if we bruise So I lay down this armor I will surrender tonight Before we both lose this fight Take my defenses All my defenses

I lay down this armor for you

I'll be your escape I'll be your safe place I'll be your shelter

Now, this song--this song I would make an animatic to if I could. It's very accurate to Casca's anger towards Weylon for his betrayal of their warband, as well as each of their individual struggles with forgiveness. Casca never intends to forgive him, so she doesn't take on the burden of forgiveness. Weylon struggles for years, after fully taking in how wrong his actions were, with forgiving himself. He's the one who needs to forgive here, not her. She's done.

They say the truth will set you free But it shackled me like chains

Some trust the law to guide them Some trust in the divine I am neither I have never been I have only been myself

Did you come for absolution? I have got none left to give You must find your own solution Find a reason to forgive You came looking for atonement You came looking where I live I can see right through your intent I have nothing to forgive

And because this is already long, one last song for you:

This one is for Cio and Ari! They're different but really similar at the same time, and honestly I think this song is a good encapsulation of that. So many of the back-and-forth bits could be either of them, but I've picked out the parts that seem the most like them:

You hurt I heal we cry But I'ma love you still You bail I dwell but we try So I'ma love you still

You're calm I rage enough But I'ma love you still You're scared I've shared too much But will you love me still

I'ma love you still I'ma love you through it all

#gw2 #kai speaks #just-eyris-things #thanks a bunch for the ask! :D #and sorry it took a sec to get to it!! but i hope you enjoy my assorted music ramblings #time to tag everyone:#kerralind #cal vereo #daisy llew #nishannai #seong nabi #casca shadowstorm #brook splitstorm #splitshadow #cioffi #ari stormshield #ciari #weylon stormblade

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finelinevogue · 3 years

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Hey could u do a blurb of someone probably Mitch or sara or Jeff or Lambert walking in on reader and Harry backstage having sex? Like reader would be so embarrassed and Harry would take it very lightly. And the person walking in teases them all the time about it. Thank you so much. Love 💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟 ur writing.

anon: What about Post-concert love making?

okay so i guess we’re doing this *smiles cheekily* ;

The “whale” was back.

Right at the end of Kiwi, Harry filled his mouth with cool water and sprayed it into the air like a fountain of energy, later it would look like a fountain of love as captured on camera by a fan.

Harry ran off the stage, fans following closely behind in what looked like a stampede almost. He grabbed a black mask from one of his security guards and put it on whilst he started running off backstage. He waved to a couple of fans and blew kisses to as many people as he could, still so very high on adrenaline. When he saw you in his line of vision, his adrenaline only increased. He thought about all that he was about to do to you and swore his cock had never ached so desperately.

He ran past you, grabbing tight onto your hand as he did so forcing you to run with him. Luckily for you, you were only wearing trainers so didn’t feel like you were about to fall over in heels.

“What….” You laughed, not knowing whether Harry could even hear you behind your mask but you underestimated him.

“Just come w’me.” He pulled you further backstage, passing Jeff along the way.

“1 hour before we leave.” Jeff made clear to Harry, knowing your boyfriend had a track record of not keeping an eye on time when it came to intimate activities with you.

“Got it!” Harry shouted back as he continued to run, you behind him.

“1 hour!” Jeff shouted again, emphasising every syllable. Harry laughed and waved him goodbye as he rounded a corner with you.

You both ran down the corridor and took another left, before Harry punched in the code to his dressing room door rapidly and pushed you both in so fast everything was a blur of bodies and pink. Because yes, Harry’s outfit was pink. As soon as the door shut behind you, Harry pushed you against the door, unhooking your mask and throwing it in the bin - same with his, before smashing his lips to yours. His lips were sweaty and the unshaved hairs were bristly against your mouth, but you loved it so fucking much.

“Fuck baby.” He leaned against your lips, pinning his hands either side of your head on the door as his lips took control over yours. His body was a distance away from you, but you pushed yourself into him by gripping the back of his neck and caving yourself into him. He felt so good against you. His body so wet and hard. His torso was glistening in the golden light and he looked so much like a God.

“Did so good tonight, babe.” You talked against his lips.

“Ssh ssh.” Harry whispered, making you stop for a brief moment to listen to him, “Praise me later, love me now.” And you smashed your lips back onto his, pulling yourself even further onto his body so his arms had to go around your waist to support you both. His hands felt warm and flush against your cooler skin and it gave you so many goosebumps it was unnatural. He lifted you up with the strength of his muscular arms and carried you over to the dressing table, kissing you continuously. He put you down safely in a clear spot and untangled his arms around your waist to spread open your legs. Lucky for him, you were wearing a skirt.

His face looked up at yours and smirked. That damn smirk.

“Gonna ruin you m’heart.” How could his words me so corrupted and so sweet at the same time? You didn’t have much time to continue mentally answering that question though, as his fingers pulled aside your panties and his tongue was straight to licking you dry.

“Shit!” You screamed out and Harry brought his other hand up to cover over your mouth to keep you quiet, not needing this moment to be disrupted by someone barging in because they thought something was wrong.

“Shut up and take it like the good girl you are.” He whispered against your sensitive pussy, making your folds flutter and your insides swarm with butterflies. No one could ever make you feel the way your Harry did. Ever. “Taste too good.” He moaned against you, swirling his tongue all over you. In and out. Up and down. He concentrated on your clit until he could feel your legs already beginning to shake. Clearly you had already been close to your release just by watching him perform. He felt the same way just looking at you whilst singing songs like Watermelon Sugar and She.

His tongue destroyed you, pulsing in and out of you so fast until you could barely remember where you were. He was too fucking good at this, no wonder he wrote a song about it.

He left your cunt alone, standing up and making you whine in annoyance. His hand de-clamped from your mouth and he gave you a look like you thought too little of him if you thought he would just leave you this high and no release.

“H, please.” You begged, giving him your best puppy eyes. You were too focused on his hungry expression for you to notice that he was undoing his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring up against his chest. It was the wet noise of his cock hitting his toned abs that made you look down, gasping when you did. It was so thick and the veins were pulsing so proudly. You were so desperate for it, your pussy between your thighs wanting some sort of attention.

“See what you do to me?” He asked rhetorically but you nodded anyways, licking your lips as you looked at his throbbing cock eagerly.

“Want you.”

“Yeah? Y’want me and m’cock?”

“Please.”

He shifted himself forwards slightly, pumping his cock ready in one hand whilst pushing your panties to the side with his other. You moved forwards on the vanity so that you were perching on the edge. The first tip of his cock at your entrance made you breathless, jumping when you felt that sensitive connection between you two.

He pushed himself in slowly, making sure he filled you up completely. He took it slow so you could feel every vein and ever pulse of his cock, making you moan so deliciously when he was balls deep in you. You rested your palms on the vanity behind you and breathed out heavily to catch your breathe from this highly euphoric moment. Harry didn’t wait until you were ready to start pumping into you, pulling himself out of you only to forcefully thrust himself back in.

“Fuck.” He mumbled under his breathe, as one of his hands went to steady you at your waist whilst the other one picked up your thigh and rest it on his hip so he could angle himself better - deeper.

“Feel s’good.” You moaned out between your cries of ecstasy, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

“Feel even better wrapped around m’cock, baby. Been wanting this all night.” He continued to thrust harshly as he spoke, giving no room for adjustment but plenty for pleasure. You felt so good that you never wanted this to end. “The things you do to me… makes me wanna fuck you breathless.”

“Then do it.” You challenged him.

He took you up on that challenge, thrusting into you quicker than he had before and deeper too. You felt him in the pit of your stomach and man did he feel incredible. The wet sounds of skin slapping filled the room and you rolled your head back in the high of it all. Harry took this opportunity to lean forwards and kiss at your neck as much as he could, biting his love into your skin and staining his lips there so everyone knew you were his. He was so believably territorial sometimes. His pace was hard and fast, you high approaching quickly.

“Y’gonna cum, hm?” He asked, already knowing it was a yes.

“Please, need to. Please.” You begged him, moving your arms off the vanity and up around his neck to be closer to him. The movement made you both moan at the difference it made to your pleasures, feeling so warm and desired within the moment to thinking about much else.

“Yeah? Then cum f’me. Only f’me.”

“Just f’you.” You whispered, before kissing him tight as your orgasm overtook you, knowing your moans would’ve been overtly loud otherwise. He kissed you back with so much passion, you couldn’t work out whether it was love or lust or maybe both.

You felt cloud high.

Your lips parted and you both were trying your hardest to breathe, listening to each others heartbeat to sync up and calm down together. Harry kept pecking your lips as his release was still pulsing into inside of you, coating you with his thick cum that you’d no doubt be told to keep in you until he got you to the hotel room to lick it out. Your release left your toes tingling and your head empty, well apart from the dirty thoughts about the wonder man in front of you.

“Well that was—”

The door swung right open and in waltzed Jeff. Harry covered your body with his, still so deep inside of you. You tucked your head into Harry neck to hide you of this terrible and embarrassing moment. Harry’s arms tensed around you at the thought of someone seeing you right now, even though he was the one with his trousers down to his ankles.

“Jesus fuck…” Jeff shouted closing the door behind him over as he walked straight back out. “Lock the door next time.”

“What do you want?” Harry shouted, keeping you firmly encased in his protective hold.

“Plans changed. Need to go now.”

“How about 5 minutes?” Harry asked, knowing he needed some time to wash you clean and make sure you were alright to walk.

“Fine. But that’s all.” Jeff shouted and then you heard him walk away.

“That did not just happen.” You tried to convince yourself, laughing into Harrys neck.

“Just can’t help myself around you, can I?” Harry laughed, kissing the side of your head before he knew he had to get you two ready. Jeff would be back if not and he didn’t need his manager to see him buried deep inside of his girlfriend again.

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gaiuswrites · 3 years

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Thread the Needle | Yoga!Din

Pairing: Modern!Din x Yoga Instructor!Reader

Rating: Explicit (minors, goodbye)

Word count: 3.5k~

Warnings/tags: Yoga!Din (yes, he gets his own warning), hurt/comfort, language, smut, good ol' fashioned cunnilingus, piv

Notes: ✨ HI FRIENDS ✨ Yoga!Din rides again. This idea has been stewing (pun intended, you'll get it later) in my dumb brain for a while now and I've finally decided to write it. Technically, this takes place a little farther into the future (perhaps when the pair is more of an item, and less of a fuckbuddy fling, but thorough plot? We don’t know her). Anyways, enjoy! Cheers x

He doesn’t mean to be dramatic, but it’s the most agonizing sixty minutes of his goddamn life.

He’s seated on his mat, legs folded into a fucking pretzel—lotus pose, a calm voice inside his head corrects—and he’s steaming.

She isn’t here.

He is—Din, for all his faults, showed the fuck up to class but she didn’t, and in her place there’s some smelly old bat, this woman’s wrinkly ass – sits bones – plunked down at the front of the studio— occupying her spot, where she should be.

His eyes stalk the movements of this other woman as she putters around the studio—the godawful stench of something earthy wafting behind her— and it looks wrong. It feels wrong; like a violation somehow—of the space.

Of their space.

“The light in me recognizes the light in you,” they all utter in unison like a fucking hippie cult, and he books it out of there, swiping his mat up with an aggressive slap and rolling it under his arm.

“Hey,” he calls out, pacing towards the front desk. The receptionist— Riley? Kylie? Din can never remember—glances up from her phone, bright eyed.

Poor thing.

“Who the fuck is that?” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder towards the studio, the gaggle of ladies trickling out of it already gossiping and clucking away. Din doesn’t mean to sound accusatory; he doesn’t mean to be this intense. It’s not this girl’s fault, he knows that— but she’s in proximity and she’s shit out of luck.

“M’sorry?” she sputters, blinking up at him.

Breathe, that same voice coos—he can feel the tickle of it behind his ear.

“Our usual Wednesday instructor,” Din begins again, clipped. “Where is she?”

“Oh," she shrugs, "she called in sick.”

With a furrowed brow he pitches forward, craning over the desk. “Is she okay?”

The girl— Miley? —all but flinches back from him, a quizzical expression wormed onto her. “Uhm, yeah she has the flu—nasty one, too, but she’ll probably be back by ne-"

Din doesn’t linger long enough for her to finish. He’s wheeled around, striding from the building, the tinny chime of the bell ringing out as the door creaks closed behind him. The women exchange waggling glances in his wake, tittering in mouthwatering delight—more juicy fodder for their post-yoga soiree.

///

He doesn’t remember driving there. He made a quick stop to the grocery store— their grocery store, now— to pick up what he needed and before he knows it, he’s at her front door, bringing his fist down upon it in hard raps.

He hears movement—can sense it there, can practically imagine it: her lithe body tip toeing over— no, she’s got the flu, maybe it’s more of a shuffle—and peeking through the peephole. There’s a weighty pause and then—

The slow, dubious clicks of unbolting locks, the turning of a handle, the yawn of the wood as it opens.

Her voice is made small with disbelief and exhaustion. “Din?”

“Can I come in?”

She cracks the door ajar, standing in the frame of it now, a thick blue comforter slung over an arm, and she can’t quite mask the stupefied look etched onto her face.

He’s never done this. She’s never done this. He’s been to her place twice—three times, if he counts them fucking in the car in her driveway—and he’s certainly never showed up unannounced.

“Uhm, I-”

“Great.”

Din pushes past her, plastic bag swinging heavy at his side.

“W-What?”

She’s left gaping, mouth and eyes opened incredulously, ogling the way he struts through her entryway, before finally having the wherewithal to close the door. “Hey, what are you-”

“You need to keep your fluids up,” he says roughly—as if it’s obvious—making a beeline towards the kitchen.

She follows after him, bunching the throw snuggly around her shoulders. “Din,” she utters feebly, “I really don’t think you should be here right now.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Please, I don’t wanna get you sick."

He thunks the bag onto the granite countertop, producing two cans.

She doesn’t know why she bothers, it’s not like he’s listening to her anyways. If she’s learned anything about Din Djarin, it’s that he’s nothing if not stubborn—impossibly immovable. He’s tossed his jacket off, slinging it over the island, a determined glint in his eye as he prowls around the kitchen, opening cupboards at random.

“Seriously, I don’t want you catching this. I feel like shit… Oh my god, I look like shit,” she groans in realization, burying her head in the blanket, hermitting herself away.

“You look fine,” he replies gruffly, delving through the drawers in search of a can opener.

Frumpy sweats and a baggy t-shirt with some faded logo on it that’s absolutely hanging off her. Hair tossed up and sloppy, coiled into a loose bun, errant pieces rebelling every which way. A little pale, maybe. Tired eyes. Messy.

Beautiful, he meant. She looks fucking irritatingly beautiful.

Din continues to rifle through her cabinets and he exhales in frustration, “Jesus, where do you keep your pans?”

“Bottom right,” she points begrudgingly.

He grunts, finding one big enough and sets it down on the stove.

She can’t stop fussing over him; making comments here and there, asking if he wants anything, needs anything—water, kombucha, tea, a beer, a snack—if she can help in any way possible—and it nearly sends him over the damn edge.

“Would you quit it and just let me take care of you?” he grits out, and her mouth clamps shut with a pop.

She’s quiet after that, picking anxiously at a thread poking out from the blanket she wears like a shawl—observing as he empties the cans into a large pot, lights the gas stove, and brings it to a boil. She gives him space, stationing herself by the kitchen table, leaning a hip into one of the four chairs there.

Honestly she does try to keep to herself; she tries to accept what Din is doing for her, but she can’t help it. As soon as she sees him ladling the soup into one of her favorite cups—it looks so tiny in his grasp— and bringing it over to her like a goddamn patron saint, she breaks.

“You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Yeah well, you need to get healthy so you can take your class back from that fucking fossil.”

“Din,” she admonishes.

“Baby,” he gives her a pointed look and she gnaws at the inside of her cheek, a blush blotting her clavicle. “She fucking smells. Now sit your pretty little ass down-”

“But-”

He presses a hand to her shoulder, forcing her to sink into the chair with a soft oomf, and places the bowl in front of her. “Don’t fight me on this. Drink the fucking soup.”

She huffs, glancing down, and then back up to Din.

“Progresso?”

He grunts.

She blows at the steam rising from the hot liquid. “Chicken noodle?”

Din crosses his arms over his chest and plops back onto the island.

“Classic,” she praises, mumbling into it.

She loathes to admit it, but the first sip tastes like heaven. It soothes her raw vocal chords, worn hoarse from nights of coughing, and seeps deep to warm her cold bones.

Din remains mute through the whole affair, staring owlishly as she spoons it down, slurp for slurp, until he’s satisfied she’s finished. When she does, she arches an eye brow at him— mouth pressing into a thin line. Happy now?

He tips his head and pads over to her.

“Wait, no you don’t have to-" He swipes it from the table, the spoon clanking against the ceramic rim. Din moves to the sink and she groans.

“Just leave it,” she whines, but he ignores her—stubborn stubborn stubborn— he’s already got soap on the sponge and the water running. Again, she huffs and rises to her feet, hem of the blanket trailing behind her.

“Thank you,” she gives in a hushed tone.

It’s so strange— being taken care of in her own place. She doesn’t know what to do, where to go. It’s ill-fitting, foreign, and she can only hover there, buzzing like a pesky insect beside him.

He’s wiping the dish off with a towel when he chances a peek back at her, practically stuttering when he does.

She’s swaddled in that fucking quilt, awkward and impossibly sincere and precious just standing there—watching him play house in her home. A brush of color has sprung up on her cheeks—more light in her eyes, too—and Din, try as he might, can’t pry himself off her.

She’s sick—she’s sick and gorgeous and he wants her. He wants her to feel better, he wants to fuck her, he wants to hold her. He’s overcome with it.

He swallows.

Fuck.

He abandons the bowl and rag in the drying rack and turns to her, her eyes widening, glassy and bloodshot, as he tucks a stray hair behind her ear— knuckles trailing down her jaw.

“Din…”

Her tongue skips over her lip—mocking him—damp and full and begging to be taken by his own, and her breath catches as he drags a thumb across that plump flesh, enrapt with the way her mouth parts so effortlessly for him—so fucking supple. Din’s gut twists and his blood thickens in his veins—the air between them rippling with something velvet and carnal.

He takes a step towards her. Her throat bobs.

“You’re gonna get sick,” she pouts in protest, rutting her palm into his chest, but there’s no fight in it. The blanket slips from her shoulders, hitting the ground with a dulled splat.

“Din,” she tries again, “I don’t want you to-"

He leans in, cradling her cheek, murmurs fanning over her face. “I’ll risk it.”

And he dissolves the gap, sealing her mouth with his in a tender kiss. It’s almost chaste at first, how they rove tentative and unhurried over each other—an innocent exploration— all until his tongue darts out to touch along her lip and she whimpers into him, letting Din dip into the dark cavern of her mouth. She tastes warm, like comfort and broth and rainy days, and he sighs as she brings her hands up to weave into his hair.

Neither of them fight for dominance like this—their tangle of soft sounds is perfectly balanced— Hatha; effort and ease, breath and body. He pushes, she relents—she surges forward, Din bends. They dance like this, slow as tar, until she catches his bottom lip between her teeth and tugs.

It’s like a switch has been flipped.

He seethes, inhaling sharply as his hands slide possessive and greedy down her body, grabbing fistfuls of her waist hidden under all the oversized layers, and crushing her into him. She’s making these airy noises, panting and urgent and fuck if it doesn’t tear him apart—viscerally, from the inside out.

Din walks her backwards, step for choreographed step, foxtrotting until she bumps into the kitchen table. He breaks away from the kiss to reach past her, frantically pushing away the unopened mail and receipts and loose change, the jingling of her keys cutting through the wanton quiet as they clang onto the tile, and he hitches her up to sit there with one fell swoop.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he husks, inbetween the bites he’s searing onto her neck. “Please, just lie back for me sweet girl.”

“Din, I-“

He silences her with a nibble to her ear, coaxing a breathy yelp out of her. “Lie back, baby.”

It doesn’t take much convincing after that. She acquiesces, Din’s wide palm splayed on her breasts, guiding her to recline back onto the table. He makes speedy work of her sweatpants, yanking them down her legs and flinging them off to land in a crumpled heap.

He sinks to his knees, pulling the cradle of her hips to the edge of the table before parting her thighs. The gloss of her cunt, wet and glistening for him, makes his hardening cock jump up to his stomach, and she twitches as soon as the cool air brushes against her.

“Fuck me,” he groans, whispering into her heat like he’s pained, like the sight alone is torturing him—like it’s slowly but surely ending his fucking life.

Din breathes her in with a sigh, that summer fruit tang— the scent of her aching and pulsing for him— and he starts tracing up and down her inner thigh with his tongue and teeth, nibbling along the path there until he’s at her apex. He’s dimpling her pliant skin with his calloused fingertips, strong hands wrapped under her knees, keeping them splayed as he kisses along her outer lips, nipping at her hip bones, teasing everywhere but where she needs him most.

It’s devastating—debilitating—and she’s shaking now. Every muscle, every fiber of her, convulsing with anticipation—with the promise of being dissected, of being torn apart and stitched back together again. She’s already got a hand covering her mouth, muffling the sobs he’s drawing out as he toys with her— playing her like a fucking fiddle.

Din’s eyes flit up to find her like this, brow pinched tight and cries stifled, and he chuckles— he fucking laughs— heady and ambered into her legs.

“You doin’ alright up there, teach?”

“F-Fuck you,” she hisses out with a weak whine.

God, she’s fucking perfect.

“You need something, sweetheart?” He smirks— she can feel the shape of it against her thigh, the way his stubble grates along her skin— and she can only mewl, speechless. Pathetic.

“Yeah, I know what you need...” Din hums, before finally - finally - taking mercy on her.

With one single drag, he tongues a broad stripe up her slit.

The noise that rips through her sounds like she’s being strangled— it gets caught in her throat like a trapped animal in hot car— a desperate little thing clawing to get out. Her nails scrape against the wood, leaving nicks in the chestnut lacquer. Immediately, she cants up to him, searching for his mouth hungrily and Din all but obliges as he clasps onto her hips, keeping her still while he fucks into her.

He’s carving her out— hollowing her; burying himself in her folds, nosing against her mound. He laps her up in kitten licks, delving the muscle of his tongue in and out of her, leaving her weak and gasping. Din laves up and down and side to side in clever little swivels, before he reaches her clit and sucks.

Her fist shoots from her mouth to grip his wavy locks, grinding shamelessly against his face.

“O-Oh my god, Din - fuck - Din. Oh fuck oh fuck-"

He loves it when she gets like this; that serene and tranquil exterior— the one that can quell a studio full of strangers into a haze with only the sound of her voice, that voice he can’t get out of his fucking head, the one that got them into this mess in the first place— shattered, mutilated beyond recognition and all she has left is her need— her wild, unbridled need.

Her need for his tongue, for his fingers, for his dick. Din Din Din, she only wants him— only needs him.

He slips a finger into her, easing past his knuckle in one movement, and her chin tips back, crown of her head digging into the table, hair mussing against the wood grain.

Her nipples have pebbled through her shirt, her pretty feet arched and contorted, and she’s heaving - writhing - like this above him.

He adds another digit, pumping in and out, the squelch of her pussy sounding lewd and obscene and fucking divine as he grazes her clit with his teeth, pulling at it.

“Fuck-” she rasps, legs quivering on their own accord— instinct and reflex demanding she tremble— and Din moans into her sex, feeling her walls constrict around his fingers, and he curls them up as he thrusts, hitting against that spongy patch insider her that makes her vision go white.

“Din, I- I’m—"

She can’t manage the rest. Instead of words, she cries— high pitched and wounded, as if she’s barely making it out alive. Her legs clamp around his head, bracing him there, and she cums— she loses it for him— her slick coating his nose, his lips, the hair speckled around his chin. She soaks him, and it leaves Din rocking his hips and humping the fucking air— as randy as a teenager, ravenous for anything, even if it’s just the friction of his pants drawn tight around his erection.

He takes her through her orgasm, lapping at her softly until she’s warbling—a slew of nonsense babbling out of her— and he leans back on his heels to admire his work, eyes singeing into her cunt made puffy and swollen pink, fluttering at the loss of him.

He plants one final kiss to the cleft of her pussy before shifting his weight back up to his feet, slotting himself between her.

Fuck, he isn’t as young as he once was— he feels his age in the ache of his knees. All the yoga in the world can’t erase his scar tissue, can’t undo time.

But he thinks maybe—if he’ll let himself—that she makes him feel younger. Lighter.

He squeezes her calf and begins to move away when she whimpers, bolting upright to palm greedily at the bulge pressing painfully against its constraint, her fingers fidgeting with his zipper and Din— in an uncharacteristic show of strength and self restraint— gingerly clasps onto her wrists, holding her still.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and her eyes snap up to meet his. “This isn’t about me.”

“No, but-”

“You don’t- we don’t have to-"

“Din,” she pants, grabbing onto the waist of his jeans and pressing her center into him, smearing herself along the denim there, her pearled clit catching on the rough fabric. Her eyes have gone jet-black with desire, obsidian lust burning through them. “Din, fuck me. Please fuck me, plea-“

Shit.

He’s never moved so fast in his goddamn life, unbuttoning his jeans in a flash, untucking himself— throbbing, leaking already—from his briefs. He gives himself two rough jerks, his blunt tip prodding at her entrance, before pushing into her with a gasp.

Fuck, she’s warm— not just warm, she’s hot. She’s molten, and she’s milking him for all he’s worth, gripping around him, fucking strangling his cock with how wet she is—how tight. God, she’s a fucking dream—a nightmare too, undoubtedly.

“Fuck baby - shit - you’re—hnng-” He groans—can’t even form a real sentence—all of his blood has rushed out of his brain and straight to the juncture where their bodies meet.

His eyes flutter deliriously at the feeling of her stretching around him like this and for a passing, fleeting moment, he considers the fact that he should be gentle with her— that she’s not feeling well, that she’s probably sore with body chills and God knows what else and that she should rest—

But once her knees are split apart and legs spread long— so fucking flexible, fuck she’s killing him— his well-met concern all but abandons him.

He fucks her hard— so hard she falls back, that unforgiving surface bruising into her spine. He probably hurts her a little—just how he likes, just how she loves.

Din plows into her, digging into the meat of her thighs, slamming into the pussy that takes him so fucking well, the pussy that feels like it’s made for him— like she’s made for him— and the table shudders with each roll of his hips, scraping it inch by inch along the tile, knocking against the chairs with loud, clattering bangs.

“W-Wait— wait wait wait-“ she pants, hands scampering up to his arms.

He slows his thrusts until he’s stilled inside of her, worry creasing around his eyes. “W-What? Are you okay—what’s wrong?”

“T-The table," she whines, “it’s from fucking IKEA. I built this piece of shit myself— there’s no way it’s gonna stay standing with you fucking me into it like this.”

Din barks out a laugh, throaty and genuine, and for the second time today, he comes to the conclusion that she’s perfect.

“Bedroom?” she nods down the hall.

“Bedroom,” he growls before scooping her up, lifting her off the table, her legs scrambling to hook around his waist, forearms bracing around the broad plain of his shoulders.

“Din!” she squeals in surprise, “I can walk, you know.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, giving her a bounce and a light slap to her ass. “You’re sick.”

///

“Onions,” he mutters, leaden eyelids nestled shut.

He didn’t mean to stay over this long—well past sunset, later than he’s ever allowed himself—but how could he be expected to leave? After she came on his cock - twice - and he had filled her up until his cum was gushing from her, extricating himself out of this exact position of woven, spent limbs and sweat stained sheets sounded criminal.

“What?” She cranes groggily up at him.

“The sub. She smelled like onions. And patchouli.”

“Hey,” she tuts in mock offense, “Brenda is nice.”

“Good for Brenda. Doesn’t make her smell any better.”

“God, you are so rude,” she laughs, shaking her head as she nuzzles into Din’s side, lips curving into a sleepy grin against his chest—right above the aching thump of his caged heart.

Taglist (I apologize if I missed anyone!):

@radiowallet @pedros-mustache @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamers @greatcircle79 @iamskyereads @imnotinlove-thisisnotyoursong @fan-of-encouragement @read-and-rec @helmet-comes-off @keeper0fthestars @hellabaybee @ourmotherofyearning @krissology

#yoga!din #I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL #modern!din #modern au #din djarin smut #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #smut #mando x fem!reader #mando x you #mando x female oc #hurt/comfort #fanfic #one shot #star wars fanfic #pedro pascal #din djarin au

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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 2 years

Note

For Kalim how much is he worshipped? And also him being the gid of prosperity kinda makes me envision him summoning gems and prescious metals from the earth

[Oh wow, hey Kalim! There’s a question about you here!]

[Wha, really?! That’s amazing! Hi there, new mortal friends! How are you today?]

[Haha! They won’t be able to respond or see this until we post it, Kalim, and mortals don’t have access to Magicam. That’s why Faun has to speak to them for us.]

[Aww, that’s too bad. I was already thinking of throwing a party to celebrate our new friends…]

Guuuuys, you stole my intro!

[Oop! Sorry, Faun--oh hey! You’ve stopped talking backwards. How do you feel?]

Better actually. That dimension Che’nya sent me too was so...weird! Everything was moving backwards!

“Funya...I couldn’t understand a word she said! She couldn’t even write straight!”

[Yeah, that’s why we didn’t really have time to do an ask the same way we have been, so we’re doing a little something different: an impromptu interview! It was lucky Kalim happened to be visiting when the ask came in, huh?]

Yeah. Anyway, welcome back everyone! So as Cater said, we’ve got a little something different planned for this one. Kalim, would you be able to answer a few questions for the time being? At least until I have a chance to compile a more detailed overview of your status as a deity like the others?

[Sure! Wow, this is so exciting~! What do you wanna know?]

Okay, let’s start with the main question: how much are you worshipped? Do you have a huge following?

[Honestly, it’s a bit of a mix. Humans do worship me, yes, but there are so many these days who think of me as a charm--like a lucky horseshoe or a four-leaf clover. Sometimes I hear them call me “Lady Luck”, but that’s not right either.]

“Huh? So wait, does that mean they consider you a God of Luck more than Prosperity?”

[Mm...not quite, though I can see why you’d think that. As the God of Prosperity, I turn people’s fortunes around when they’re down on their luck, even if it’s not monetarily. To me, prosperity and fortune are more than just materialistic wealth, but a wealth of good health and happy moments to be shared with others. That’s why I love making people happy!]

[Oooh, so that’s why you’re also known for festivals!]

[That’s right! Most mortals turn to statues of me seeking blessings for their parties and festivals to be successful. I don’t mind though, because I get to see so many people enjoying themselves and enjoying good food! Jamil has to remind me to take it easy with my power though, or I’ll have to keep visiting the Stardust River again. Last time I could barely stand to the point he had to carry me all the way back!]

Oh jeez, please be careful! I know you guys are gods and all, but don’t you guys have limits?

[Well sure. That’s why we go to the River when we need to!]

“Jeez, is being a god really that difficult?”

[Eh, it’s not so bad, Gri-chan~! We just gotta remember to take a break every now and then.]

Yeah. Okay, so let’s see...so does all that mean that you don’t have anything to do with money, gold, or even jewels?

[Actually, I do! I may not connect to the earth the same way Riddle and Epel do, but I can form veins of precious metal ores and gemstones for people to find. I can even take some dirt and change it into whatever jewel or coin I want, and I like to imbue them with a little ‘lucky magic’--or at least, that’s what a good friend once called it centuries ago. So yeah: I can summon them at will!]

Oooh, neat! What about your talisman? Or your animal familiar? What are they?

[My animal familiar is an elephant--they’re amazing creatures! As for my talisman...a lot of people would assume it’s an elephant too, but it’s actually the jasmine flower.]

“Eh? That’s a surprise. I’m surprised it’s not a flying carpet.”

[Well of course I’ve got a flying carpet! It’s how I get from one party to the next so fast without using my power. Here, watch!] Fweeeet~!

Huh? Wha-?! Waaaah!

“Eeeek! Help! Get me off this crazy thing!!”

[Haha, it likes you two~! Come on, let’s go for a ride! I wanna show you my favorite places!]

[Wait, Kalim-!]

[Wheeeeee-!] Aaaaaaaaaaa-!!!!

[Augh, not again! Why does everyone keep swiping my disciple? We’ll be right back, peeps!]

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland deity au #twst deity au #cater diamond #kalim al-asim

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lilacmeadows · 3 years

Text

Made For You pt.3

I’m so sorry for the late post guys! I had the most hectic work load today. I’m taking too many goddamn classes this semester. ANYWAY here is my filthy part 3. I mean... they still haven’t fucked, but we’re getting there. I think this can be wrapped in a nice little 4 part bow, but I also kinda want 10 chapters of them together because I’m a slut for this dynamic. This is my FIRST TIME writing smut! So go easy on me. Thank you so much for reading! - Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, SMUT, ORAL (m receiving), FLUFF, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

Word Count: 2300

It was a short ride to the compound, and y/n had a hard time keeping up with the fast walking team as they tried to explain little things along the way.

She hadn’t been outside in a decade. The grass was green and warm where it met her bare feet as she walked behind Sam and Steve. The rest of the team immediately left the quinjet, seeking the comfort of their showers and beds. Bucky was the last to leave, not feeling right about just disappearing from her, but keeping his distance.

Y/n was still so heartbroken. Hearing about her family’s death had really stung, and she knew if she dwelled on it, she’d cry about it for days. But all she really had time to be sad about was how cold her Soldat was towards her. It seemed very much like he didn’t want her around him.

Steve and Sam brought y/n inside the residential wing of the compound. They toured the common areas, kitchen, and showed her where everyone’s bedroom was. They finally got to a guest bedroom down the hall from Natasha, and left her to get cleaned up and comfortable.

Y/n looked around her new bedroom. It was barely decorated, but she had to admit, it was still much nicer than her room with the Men. She sat her yarn and needles down on a table and sat on the large bed. Her body instantly sank into it, the plush comforter conforming to her body in a way the single sheet never did on the twin bed she slept on.

But she couldn’t enjoy her new favorite place in the world for long because not 3 minutes later, she heard a soft knock at her door. She opened it, and much to her surprise, Bucky was standing there, with 2 pairs of sweatpants, and 3 t shirts in his arms.

“I figured you’d want some fresh clothes after you’re clean.” He said sheepishly, not making eye contact with her. “You can ask Nat about undergarments.”

That made her giggle the tiniest bit. “I’m not allowed to wear any undergarments.” But he should know that. She was trained to do things to please him, so wouldn’t he like her to not have on obstructing materials?

“Oh. Well, umm… you can now… If you want to. It’s up to you.” She could see the blush rise up his neck, coloring the bits of his face that weren’t blanketed by hair. She took in his attire. He obviously changed out of his tactical mission gear, in favor of the sweatpants he wore that looked almost identical to the ones in his arms. He also appeared to be freshly showered, his hair still damp, and if she looked close enough, she could see little wet patches on his shirt from where he didn’t dry himself completely.

“Are these your clothes?” She asked, taking the bundle from his arms and opening her door wider so he could enter her room.

“Yeah, Steve went a little overboard on the shopping when I first got here. They’ll be a little big, but the pants have a drawstring, so it should work for now. Until you get something better.” He stood awkwardly in the middle of his room.

Y/n didn’t know what possessed her to put the sweatpants up to her face and inhale deeply. She just felt a primal urge to know what he smelled like. Gunpowder, wood, and something naturally male- Bucky. She couldn’t stop the moan low in her throat.

Bucky watched her as she did that. He felt his pants tighten just at the thought of her in his clothes, and the way she just smelled his pants and let out that sound of satisfaction, made him want to take her right there.

“Thank you, sir.” Y/n replied. Fully engulfed in her embarrassment.

“Y/n, you really don’t need to call me that. I’m just Bucky.” He reminded her. Honestly, he loved when she called him Sir- the authority it gave him, but it made an unholy amount of blood flow directly to his cock and he couldn’t think as clearly. Especially when she looked up at him with those innocent eyes.

“Okay, Bucky.” She said, trying the name out on her tongue. He liked the way she said it. “If that makes you happy.” She risked a step closer to him.

“You need to do what makes you happy.” He took an equally measured step back, knowing he was close to giving in to her temptation.

“I’m working on it, Bucky. But I need your permission. I just wanna be good for you.” She said, quickly taking 3 more steps until she was about 6 inches from his face.

“This isn’t right, Y/n. You don’t know what you’re doing or why you’re doing it. Hydra wanted this. You don’t have to belong to me.” She craned her neck up to be closer to his lips, but he was determined to reason with her before he does something he can’t take back.

“But I want to belong to you. I thought about you every day for 10 years years, Bucky. And I hadn’t even seen you.” Bucky tilted his head down ever so slightly, their lips were just shy of touching. “Let me be good for you, Bucky. Let me make you happy.” She repeated.

“Okay.” Was all he said. He expected their lips to touch then, but she was already down in her knees. None of her videos showed passionate kissing. She wanted to please him in the way she read about in her studies.

On her knees, Y/n was able to see the thick outline of his erect cock very easily, and couldn’t stop the involuntary moan. Just as she did with his other sweatpants, Y/n pressed her face against the bulge and inhaled deeply. Between the smell that was just so him, and the warmth of his clothed cock rubbing on her face, she was starting to go feral for the man standing in front of her in complete shock.

Bucky hadn’t been with a woman since before the war, and they definitely weren’t like this. He watched as she was damn near purring while she rubbed her face on him. She reminded him of a kitten, the way she open-mouthed kissed the line of his cock through his sweatpants. Then she pulled them down, and he felt her wet tongue roll around the fat tip.

“Shit, Y/n, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do you want me to stop, Sir?” She said, taking another lick from base to tip.

“God no. Fuck.” he groaned as she started put his balls in her mouth and sucked, hard. “But if you keep working me like that this is definitely gonna stop.”

She moaned hearing him fall apart above him- finally fulfilling her destiny. Making her Soldat happy.

“Fuck, Babydoll, you’re so good at this. Where the fuck did you learn this?” He asked, more to himself than to her, seeing as she started bobbing and swiveling her head. He wanted to put his hands in her hair, but ultimately decided not too. If he was gonna let this happen, it had to be at her pace.

She had never seen a cock in person but she knew he must be above average, her tongue counting 3 thick veins running up the sides and bottom of it. Trying to remember everything she saw the women in the videos doing and all the descriptions she read in the erotic literature, she hollowed her mouth around him and flattened her tongue against the underside of his cock.

“Fucking hell, Babydoll you’re doing so well for me. Y/n, shit.” She felt his cock touch the back of her throat and gagged around the intrusion. Spit mixed with precum rolling down her chin. When she looked up at him, her big eyes meeting his, he lost it. She could feel his cock harden just a little bit more, and his balls tightened, right before he released his heavy load into her throat. She backed up a little so it wouldn’t go straight down, she wanted to feel him on her tongue and taste him. Once she was sure she got every drop, she sat back on her heels and looked up at him. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue a little so he could see his cum sitting on it before she swallowed it all with a soft moan.

“Did I do good, Sir?” She said, still sitting in front of him, his cock softening in her face as she watched the anatomy work in fascination. She reached her hand out to touch it, really appreciating the feel and warmth of his skin. He groaned loudly at the overstimulation and the sound of her normally smooth voice, now rough from the number she did on him.

“Fuck, Y/n, you did so good, Babydoll. You’re such a good girl.”

And in that moment he felt like he could pass out. He wanted to vomit because he looked down at her face and saw the innocence still in her eyes. Good girl. He remembered saying those words to her before. So long ago. He saw a flash of a memory of rubbing a little girl’s head before knocking her out. Carrying her to her house and tucking her in her bed, before stroking her face one last time and leaving. He remembered how Hydra fried him so hard after that mission, they were afraid they killed him. She looked different, older, but it was the same eyes. Definitely her. And there that same girl was, on her knees for him, and just gave him the best blowjob of his life.

He tucked himself back into his sweatpants. Part of him wanted to run away. He was ashamed of himself. He knew that he should have turned her down and left before anything could happen. He took advantage of her. But he also knew that if he just left now with no explanation, he would be an even bigger asshole. Times like that made him miss the simplicity of not having control over his life.

“Y/n, you did such a good job for me.” He stood her up, pulling her in for a bone crushing hug. This confused her, because she never saw the aftermath in her videos. It was always brutal and then the woman was just left there. But he was so gentle with her as he tenderly stroked her hair and lowered his lips to hers for a kiss.

It was the absolute least he could do. He wanted to kiss her- he wanted to reciprocate and make her see stars, but his mind was racing. Debating if it was a good time to tell her about their previous encounter, wondering if she remembered him and was acting, or if she had no idea that he’s the reason she was kidnapped. And even though he didn’t kill them, the reason her family is dead. Selfishly, he decided that it would be best if he told her another time. He hadn’t experienced intimacy like this in so long, and Y/n’s lips felt amazing on his.

He finally broke the kiss to give her air, knowing she doesn’t have the lung capacity he has. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” He asked, not wanting to rush her into anything else. He knew he’d be going to hell for it, but he needed to be around her.

“I would love to, Sir.” She said with the biggest smile her face could muster. He swore he’d never get tired of seeing that smile. Feeling her tits press against his chest through the thin cotton layers of both of their clothes. Hearing how she moaned just a little when he stroked her jaw. He could feel his brain going fuzzy from just the intoxicating proximity of their embrace as they hugged, swaying slightly and exchanging sweet kisses in between longing looks.

“Call me, Bucky.” He gently reminded her. For his sake, really- his self control couldn’t handle her constant submissive nature. “I’m gonna let you take that shower, and in the meantime, I’ll go order some take out. Do you like chinese?” He asked, putting some distance between them, to prevent her from noticing how he was getting hard all over again and dropping to her knees for round two.

“Chinese people? I don’t know any, but I’m sure they’re lovely.” She replied, a little confused by his strange question.

Part of him liked that he wasn’t the most clueless person in the compound anymore. When it came to texting and pop culture, he was useless, but Y/n was held in captivity. She didn’t have takeout, or dinner dates, or freedom to shower with nobody watching her. He would be able to teach her those things, and he liked that. Someone needing him for more than violence. Someone to take care of.

“I’ll just go order the food. I’ll be back soon, Babydoll. There should be shampoo and conditioner in the shower with towels and all types of other stuff. Just look around a bit.” He said before he walked out of her room. She had never experienced moisture between her thighs like she was in that moment, so a shower was probably a good idea.

Part 4

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#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #stucky #the avengers #the avengers smut #steve rodgers smut #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #dark!bucky barnes #bucky fluff #chubby!bucky #winter soldier smut #winter solider x reader

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jerryb2 · 3 years

Photo

I mean….you all knew this was coming ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ : the Star Wars Art of one Mr. Drew Struzan.

And look, the man has done so much and has such a diverse portfolio that Star Wars is only one very small part of his career. If you want to explore some of his other works, then might I suggest that you check out his website.

As for me here, we’ll be sticking strictly to his SW art. Now, with that out of the way, here we go…

*cracks knuckles*

I have to admit that before I really started to dig into this, I didn’t realize just how many Bantam Era (and beyond) Star Wars books this man has illustrated. Nearly 50 titles, ranging from novels to comics, short stories & even an RPG supplement. 🤯

And so, after much consideration, I decided to just pull all the titles that feature his art off my bookshelf and take a few pics for you guys:

First off, I just want to point out that I don’t have every book he’s ever illustrated. Some of them are just harder than hard to find, are hilariously expensive, or I just don’t have an edition that features his art prominently - you’ll see what I mean. Right off the bat though, you can see that he was really hitting his stride in the mid-90′s, with all but a handful of these coming out between ‘94 & ‘99. One of the highlights from this time for me, is The Callista Trilogy.

I just want to stress that The Callista Trilogy is a highlight for me only because of its gorgeous cover art. 🤣 Other than that, this book series needs to go lay down.

Anyway, the designs are all really striking and even after all these years, absolutely iconic. And you can really see Struzan’s distinct visual style at play here; not a painting in the same vein as something from Dave Doorman, and not a simple trace. Rather, something that is stylized in a very particular, very subtle way, almost to the point where it appears photo-realistic at first glance. Beautiful.

Next up is this trio of trilogies (good use of words, me), collected in these Science Fiction Book Club (SFBC) hardcovers:

Once again, these covers are just striking, particularly The Black Fleet Crisis. This is actually what I was referring to when I said that I don’t always have the best editions for a Drew Struzan appreciation post. 😅

Because these are hardcover collections of paperback books, we actually miss out on a good bit of the art. For these SFBC special editions, the publisher just took all three and basically photoshopped the best bits of each one together. The one that suffers the most here is obviously The Corellian Trilogy, where they didn’t even try to blend everything together, and instead just separated everything into columns. I don’t personally mind it (and I do love having the hardcover editions of these books) but if you want to see the covers as they were originally intended, just pickup those mass market paperbacks. 🙂

There’s a lot more to get through, so I’ll just hit the highlights here; even though he didn’t illustrate The Thrawn Trilogy (that was Tom Jung, who I personally think did an okay-ish job at best), he did an absolutely amazing job with the follow-up, The Hand of Thrawn Duology in ‘98 & ‘99:

I’ve always loved these covers. And narratively speaking, they really do serve as one last hurrah on the Bantam Era. Oh, and also please note, Mara Jade on the cover of Vision of the Future, just as Zahn originally described her. ❤❤❤

If you step back and look at Struzan’s work as a whole, it’s all incredibly unified. I bring this up here because even though some of these are books relatively ‘meh’ worthy, Struzan maintained a level of quality that belied the mediocrity contained within. And also to say that he was definitely busy, particularly in 1994:

That’s right - all of these released in ‘94, within a few months of one another. These covers man… *chef’s kiss*

And look I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself: The Crystal Star was a hilarious joke until we all realized they were serious about it. 😳

Alright, that’s a little on the harsh side; it’s not nearly as bad as most make it out to be, and Waru as a source for unlimited power (citation needed 👀😉) isn’t any more ridiculous than the 50 other post-Palpy, hair-brained Imperial schemes that everybody else cooked up, so I guess it fits. And besides, I really wanna be nice to Vonda McIntyre here, but this book was just so so boring. 😴

*clears throat* Moving on, here we have a couple Barnes & Noble hardcover collections of The Jedi Prince Series:

The same thing applies here; cover art photoshopped from across 6 different YA novels to get these. They don’t look bad, far from it. But rather this series has some things that people would rather forget about, namely a supposed son of Palpatine (spoiler: he wasn’t) named Triclops who had - wait for it - 3 eyes.

Like Tien. From DBZ. Yep. 🤦‍♂️

Moving further down the list, we have yet another pair of iconic cover designs, being I, Jedi (the only Star Wars novel written in the first person, and an appropriate riff on Isaac Asimov’s I, Robot - yes ladies & gentlemen, that is as clever as Star Wars gets) and The New Rebellion.

Classics, no doubt….but for reals, did anybody else ever wonder why the X-Wing on the cover of I, Jedi is missing an S-Foil? Or how that one slipped through??? 👀

Ah, at last we arrive at what is arguably Struzan’s most famous work; the covers for Shadows of the Empire & The Star Wars Trilogy: Special Edition.

It’s hard to overstate just how important Shadows of the Empire really was for Star Wars as a brand. In an era where SW books were already extremely popular, the Shadows of the Empire Multimedia Project basically served as a breakout hit and reignited interest in SW media across the board. This was in no small part due to the striking imagery captured on its cover - are you seeing a pattern here?

This success actually renewed Lucas’ interest in a theatrical re-release of the OT in 1997….which of course, feature more beautiful art from Drew Struzan:

These are my OG Special Edition VHS tapes from back in the day. I watched these so damn much as a kid. In fact, they’re basically the whole reason that I’m here, annoying the shit out of everybody today. 😁

After the Bantam Era concluded & the Star Wars publishing license went to Del Rey, Struzan did progressively fewer pieces for SW media. Here we see his contribution for the latter half of the Last of the Jedi YA series, and his kick-ass cover art for the Darth Maul comic:

And when I say that Struzan did progressively fewer pieces for Star Wars, I am of course omitting his turn as the poster artist for the freaking Prequel Trilogy:

Say what you will about the films, but these poster designs are nothing short of genius.

Look guys, it would be pretty easy for me to downplay Struzan’s Star Wars portfolio as just one small part of his incredible career. But my dudes, this is literally just the tip of the iceberg. The man has been a professional illustrator for over 50 years, and his art has delighted and inspired generations. From Star Wars to Indian Jones, and from Back to the Future to Blade Runner - Drew Struzan has played an integral part in shaping popular culture.

Here’s to you, sir. 🍻

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seita · 4 years

Text

— little miss perfect | tamaki amajiki (m.)

pairing: tamaki amajiki/f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

wordcount: 𝟼,𝟷𝟻𝟷

tags: forbidden love!au, high society!au, rich!au, arranged marriage!au

note: i posted this a little bit ago but tumblr took it out of the tags so i had to delete it ): i hope it doesn't do it again...

— the life you lived was one of rules; who you hung out with, what you ate, how you sat at the dinner table. nothing was under your control. but when you find yourself falling in love with a man you shouldn't, you find yourself desperate to break the rules.

masterlist | rules

You sighed, letting your eyes wander around the ballroom packed with pretentious people wearing expensive gowns and suits. The chatter was too loud to hear even your own thoughts and you scowled, feeling a headache coming on.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the familiar looming figure of Enji Todoroki making his way in your direction. Before he could reach you, however, you slipped between the numerous people to make your way to the bar that was set up on the opposite end of the room.

Glancing over your shoulder, you let out a sigh of relief when you realized the man wasn’t following you.

The bastard had been trying since you turned 18 to arrange a marriage between you and his youngest son Shoto Todoroki ― even though the two of you were vehemently against it. But the man didn’t know how to take no for an answer and proceeded to harass you every chance he got, which was typically at functions such as the one you were currently attending.

You had long since lost sight of your parents, not that you cared. Typically they would keep you by their side to show you off and introduce you to potential suitors in hopes of making connections through marriage.

The very idea made you scoff.

As you took the drink offered from the bartender, you gave him a soft thanks before turning around. Spinning on your heel, you let out a sharp gasp when you bumped face-first into a firm chest. The jolt caused your drink to slosh over the rim and onto your hand.

You cursed, stepping back as you looked up at the wide-eyed man before you. He wore a rapidly reddening blush that burnt all the way up to his cute elf ears.

“I-I’m so sorry!” he cried, reaching into his pocket to fish out a handkerchief, taking your glass from your hand to quickly wipe the mess on your skin away, “I didn’t realize I was standing so close, I’m sorry.”

“I-It’s okay…” you whispered, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth at the sight of him.

He was tall with indigo hair that stuck up messily on the back of his head. Typically such a thing would be frowned upon ― people in high society desire to look their best, after all. Despite that, he wore a perfectly tailored tux and an expensive gold watch on his wrist. As he gazed down at his task of cleaning your hand, you noticed how long his eyelashes were as they brushed against his cheeks with every blink.

“There...I think I got it all,” he breathed, tucking the handkerchief away into his pocket without a care that it was wet with wine. At least it was white wine and not red, you mused, “You should probably wash your hands or it’ll dry your skin out or something.”

You raised a brow, not sure if such a thing could really happen. Still, you smiled and thanked him, breezing past him to find a bathroom. You still smelled like alcohol now so you needed to wash it off anyway.

When you returned to the ballroom, there was no sign of the attractive indigo hair colored man anywhere. Part of you was disappointed but you brushed it off as something silly. No point in pining after a man you spoke 10 words with after all.

You brushed off that chance meeting, not even paying it a second thought. In fact, you were certain you were either never going to meet him again or that you wouldn’t remember him even if you did.

It was wishful thinking on your end, however, because at yet another pointless high-society function, you caught sight of the messy haired man once more.

“Hey,” you greeted, making him turn away from the conversation he was having with a pretty periwinkle haired girl and tall, blonde man.

“Oh, it’s you,” he smiled, gaze softening from the guarded look he held when you’d greeted him.

From that look alone, you knew he was from a prominent family similar to yours. The type of family where you had to hold your tongue and be on guard for any shit that might come your way. It was an unpleasant, stressful existence.

“It’s me,” you smiled, nursing your glass with two hands, unsure of where to go from there, “I um...wondered what your name might be?”

He looked surprised for a second before smiling an ever-so-gentle smile, “Call me Tamaki.”

“I’m ______,” you introduced, reaching forward to shake his hand.

His grip was firm and practiced but his hand was a bit calloused from what you didn’t know. It still felt nice. His hand was bigger than yours, strong with long longers.

“These are my friends Nejire Hado and Mirio Togata,” he introduced, motioning to them.

You smiled in greeting, recognizing only the Hado name. Her family owned one of the biggest shipping companies in Japan. You wondered what Mirio and Tamaki did.

“Can I ask what your last name is?” Nejire asked.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to answer, you heard your name being called. You felt your blood freeze in your veins. You cringed, your distaste clearly written on your face to the three people standing in front of you.

“Mr. Todoroki,” you beamed fakely as you turned around, “How nice to see you!”

“My Shoto is looking for you,” he grumbled, arms crossed over his chest as he glared down at you.

“I doubt that,” you breathed.

“What was that?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“I said that’s great, I’ll go find him!” you bowed briefly before brushing past him to disappear into the crowd. Looking over your shoulder, you rolled your eyes when you were finally out of sight.

What a pain in the ass that man was.

You hummed as you swung your shopping bags by your side, enjoying the setting sun beaming on your skin. It was a rare day you got to have completely for yourself with no escorts or stupid functions to be seen. In celebration, you went out shopping with your parent’s credit card ― not that they’d ever even notice.

“Excuse me!” a soft voice called from behind.

On reflex, you paused and turned around, eyes wide as you caught the familiar form of Tamaki jogging towards you. He seemed surprised as he stopped in front of you, realizing who you were.

“You…” you mumbled, “You’re not stalking me or something right?”

Immediately his eyes burst red, shaking his head wildly, “N-No of course not! Why would you think that? It’s just coincidence I swear―”

“I’m kidding!” you laughed, patting his shoulder to calm him down, “What’s up?”

“You dropped this back there,” he sighed, scratching the back of his head almost nervously as he held up your folded handkerchief.

“Oh! Thank you!” you beamed, taking it from his hands.

There was a beat of silence, both of you standing there awkwardly unsure of what to say or what to do.

“Hey, you wanna get dinner or something?” you asked suddenly, obviously startling him.

“Wh-What?”

You shrugged, “You don’t have to. I figure since we’re both here, it’s almost dinner time...why not?”

He was quiet for a second, thinking it over before smiling with a soft nod, “Sure. Lead the way.”

“Oh, a gentleman,” you teased, enjoying the way his ears turned red in response.

He was a cute thing, wasn’t he? Shy and soft spoken yet still holding a strong disposition due to no doubt being raised in high society.

By the time the two of you were seated in the fancy restaurant, the sun had dipped beneath the horizon. The sky was cast a deep orange that was rapidly vanishing by the minute. The bright chandelier in the center of the room cast a relaxing light over the both of you. You moved automatically to fold the napkin over your lap with your hands folded over it. Tamaki moved the same way, flashing you a sheepish smile once the two of you were left in silence.

What you planned to be a nice, pleasant dinner ended up in a way you hadn’t expected.

In his bed.

His hand felt like heaven wrapped around your throat, giving just the smallest bit of pressure that made your head rush. He stared down at you with heated eyes, lip tucked between his teeth as he listened to the way you whimpered beneath him. You squeezed around his cock so tight he swore every time you came you almost took him with you.

Sweet Tamaki turned out to be one of the best lays of your life.

Little did you know, it was that little tumble in the sheets that would send your entire way of life ablaze.

You had no idea how it happened; what went from a casual one-night stand grew into weekly outings together to have lunch or dinner, sometimes breakfast if you could manage it eventually morphing into what you could only describe as love.

Whenever you laid your eyes on the messy-haired man, your heart raced and you felt a smile that you had no hope of fighting grow across your face. He seemed to be in the same boat, always having a deep need to touch you ― holding your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your forehead, or simply holding you in his lap.

The night you brought him to one of the famous, high-society functions as your date was the biggest mistake of your life.

“Are you nervous?” he asked teasingly, squeezing your hand in his larger one.

You beamed up at him, shaking your head, “No, of course not!” In fact, it was the opposite ― you were more than a little excited to finally reveal your relationship. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about the possibility of it being something that could end badly. Your parents hadn’t known you were seeing anyone, it’s not like you were close enough to them to actually reveal much personal information about yourself.

Usually whenever you did, it turned into a lecture that ended with you crying into your pillow feeling like shit with their harsh words echoing in your mind.

However, that night, you found yourself torn from Tamaki’s grasp. Your parents held the most hateful scowls you’d ever seen them wear as they regarded Tamaki’s parents who glared in the exact same manner.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” your mother hissed, yanking on your arm to pull you away from your boyfriend.

“Wh-What?!” you cried, struggling to get out of her iron grip, “Let go!”

“Don’t make a scene,” she hissed, tugging you harsher.

“We’ll talk when we get home,” you father hummed, voice colder than usual.

You glanced over your shoulder to see Tamaki being dragged in the opposite direction with a similar look of despair on his face as he watched you vanish from sight ― the both of you locked in a state of confusion.

Once home, the air around both of your parents was terrifying. Instinctively, you sat on the couch in the lounge with your head down as the two of them paced back and forth, collecting their thoughts.

“How dare you make a fool of us like that, _____?!” your mother cried, making you flinch.

“I-I’m sorry but I don’t understand,” you muttered, keeping your voice meek to keep from angering them further.

Your father scoffed, “Do you even know who that boy was?!”

“Tamaki Amajiki…” you replied quickly.

“Are you dating him or something?” your mother grilled, hands on his hips as she halted her pacing in front of you.

You nodded, not seeing a point in lying, “W-We’ve been together for about 6 months now…”

Your father scoffed, “You are never to see that boy again, do you understand me?”

“But why?” you asked, finally looking up.

Your parents looked bewildered, “You know we have nothing to do with that damn Amajiki family, ______. You are never to speak to their kind again.”

With that, they both stormed out of the room, leaving you more confused than before. You didn’t know that you were supposed to have nothing to do with them. It wasn’t like your parents told you anything, your older brother was the one in line to take over the family business so you rarely ever even got word of the goings on behind the scenes.

Your heart was aching as you went to bed that night, not sure what it was you were meant to do. You had texted Tamaki, seen he read your text but he never responded. It only made you hurt that much more and before you knew it, tears were dampening your pillow.

You had just about cried yourself to sleep when the sound of your balcony doors clicking open startled you upright.

“It’s just me,” Tamaki whispered, closing the doors as quietly as possible, drawing the curtains so no one could see in.

“Tamaki!” you whimpered, bolting out of bed to wrap your arms around his middle. He immediately wrapped his own around you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “They said I can’t see you anymore!”

His eyes softened, cupping your tear-stained cheeks to press a kiss against your forehead, “I know. Mine said the same to me.”

“I don’t understand why!” you whimpered, fresh tears falling down your cheeks.

He shook his head, “Our familiar apparently had...some old rivalry that turned sour.”

You scoffed, “That’s stupid. It doesn’t affect us, why should we suffer for it?”

He sighed, leading you towards the bed, “I agree. All we can do is fight it, right?”

“You mean…?” you looked hopefully at him with wide eyes and he smiled.

“I wouldn’t let something like this take you from me, _____,” he promised, moving to lay beside you, pulling the blankets over your forms, “I’ll be gone before the sun rises but for now...sleep, okay?”

You nodded, burying yourself in his chest, taking in the sweet scent you grew to adore. With his heart hammering rhythmically in your ear, you fell into a peaceful sleep you were sure you weren’t going to get that night.

Tamaki’s effect on you was just that; a sense of security. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to live without it now.

Things were a bit different with you and Tamaki once you discovered you weren’t supposed to be together. It was more difficult to get away in secret, your parents for once paying actual attention to what you did. Tamaki’s were doing the same.

You found yourself sneaking out of your window in the dead of night more than you ever thought you would. It was worth it, to see the sly grin on Tamaki’s face when you texted him to warn him you were outside.

The two of you made it work, though. Six months blossomed into ten; the two of you edging on a whole year together.

One night, however, as he crawled onto your balcony, you could tell something was off.

“What’s the matter?” you asked as he sat stiffly on your bed, your hand held tightly in his trembling ones.

“______,” he sighed, head hanging low.

Your heart ached in your chest through your anxiety. You waited for him to talk, watching the way he opened his mouth several times only to close it when he changed his mind.

“This is…” he sighed, shaking his head, “This can’t work anymore.”

Those words shattered your heart in your chest and you pulled your hand from his grasp. He didn’t fight to get it back, avoiding looking at what he knew were your tear-filled eyes.

“Wh-What happened?” you whispered, voice trembling.

He shook his head again, “All this sneaking around...what’s it going to get us?” he stood up, his back to you, “Whether we’re together for a year or 5 years...are we going to sneak around forever? We can’t do that.”

“You’re...you’re breaking up with me?” you asked pitifully.

He hesitated for a moment before nodding, “Eventually I need to be with someone I can be with. Our parents won’t let us do that...so there isn’t a point anymore. I’m sorry, _____…”

He moved to make his way to your balcony doors again when you bolted out of bed, wrapping your arms around his middle to keep him in place. He halted, letting you sob into his back, his heart breaking at the sound.

“Please don’t do this, Tama!” you cried, fisting his shirt, “I don’t want to lose you. You’re the only good thing I have ever gotten in my life. You know what this life is like! Everything about it is controlled and revolving around a stupid image but...with you I don’t have to worry about anything. I’ve never felt more free with anyone than I feel with you...Tamaki...please…”

Your brokenhearted confession spurred him into turning around, cupping your cheeks to pull you into a loving kiss. It made your head swim, your eyes fluttering shut as you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the feeling of his arms around you.

He held you so desperately, like you would slip away from him any second. Part of you knew that that was exactly what would happen. Once the sun rose, that would be it ― he wouldn’t get to hold you in his arms ever again.

You pushed that thought out of your head, instead choosing to slide his shirt up until he had to break away from the kiss to tug it off.

He picked you up by the waist, spinning to deposit you on the bed. He crawled on top of you, burying his face in your neck to press soft kisses there. You angled your head back to give him all the room he needed.

He wanted so badly to mark you up, to leave you with something of his, but he couldn’t. Squeezing your eyes tight, you fought back tears as you clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders.

He reached down, pushing the hem of your silk nightgown over your hips. Sucking in a breath, he felt his cock harden rapidly at the sight of your pretty panties.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathed, meeting your lips for another kiss.

You cupped the back of his head, pulling him even closer, arching your hips up to grind against him. He let out of stuttering breath, gripping your hip to urge you to grind rougher.

“Please, Tama,” you begged, breathing ragged at the teasing pleasure you were receiving.

“What do you need?” he breathed, a tone you knew only you got to hear.

To everyone else, he was a timid and shy young man who had trouble maintaining eye contact for too long. But with you, being closed doors, while you shared sweet kisses and heated touches, you got a side of Tamaki no one else would get to experience.

“I need you, please,” you begged, reaching forward to pull at his belt.

It was obvious he had come straight to your place after being somewhere — perhaps dinner with his parents.

He nodded, leaning back to clumsily strip himself of his pants. He stumbled a bit, making him mutter out embarrassed apologies with bright red cheeks. Soon enough, he was on you again.

With experienced fingers, he helped strip you from your own clothes. Your nightgown came off to reveal your bare breasts, a sight Tamaki couldn't help but whimper at.

Leaning down, he enveloped one of your perked nipples in his mouth. You tugged at his head, letting out soft sighs as he switched to the other one. Wet with his saliva, the cooler air caused them to harden even more.

Feeling impatient, you began to push your panties down your hips. Tamaki, sensing your urgency, helped pull them free of your ankles, tossing them to be lost somewhere in the darkened room.

He cupped your cheek, bringing you in for yet another kiss. His lips were so soft, his kiss pouring every ounce of love he felt for you. His free hand found its way between your legs, parting your folds to graze over your clit.

You gasped into his mouth, arching your hips at his teasing touch. He smiled against your lips, circling the bud until your thighs trembled before easily sliding two digits into your clenching hole. He paused, letting you adjust to the minute stretch before angling his fingertips up to hit your sweet spot. He had long since memorized your body ― every erogenous zone, every sweet spot, it was all committed to memory.

Your body was a temple just for him and he treated it with so much care.

You were sure you would never have anyone like Tamaki Amajiki again. The thought made your heart ache and you squeezed your eyes shut to keep from crying.

He pulled his fingers free, holding them up to his face to see the way they glistened with your slick. Popping them in his mouth, he whimpered at your taste, wishing he could get on his knees and eat you out for this last time.

But the way you reached between his legs to bring the tip of his cock to your entrance let him know how desperate you were for him. Not wanting to keep you waiting, he easily slipped in with your assistance.

He sunk in to the base, let out a sharp groan as your walls squeezed him. Neither of you were willing to wait long ― he set a quick pace that brought you both great pleasure. Sweat coated your bodies and caused you to stick together. Neither of you really care, however.

You reached down to grab his hand, bringing it up to your breast. He smiled, thumbing your nipple before descending down to envelop its twin between his lips.

His tongue swirled around the bud, relishing in the way it made your walls squeeze him.

“F-Feels so good!” you whined, clawing at his back, no doubt leaving behind red scratches.

“Yeah?” he breathed, making sure to angle his hips just right to hit that spot he had memorized.

Your reaction was instantaneous, a sharp cry so loud he had to reach up to cover your mouth with his hand.

“Can’t be too loud,” he warned, his cock throbbing at the teary, pleasure-filled gaze you fixed him with.

He could feel your moans vibrating beneath his hand as he continued his sweet pace. Your walls squeezed him tight and he groaned, dipping down to press his face to your neck.

“Gonna cum,” your words were muffled but he managed to catch them.

He nodded, sitting back on his heels. His grip on your mouth moved to your throat, the long digits wrapping around your neck just the way you liked. In an instant, his pace doubled and his other hand found purchase on your pelvic bone, thumb extending out to rub at your swollen clit.

The hard bud throbbed beneath his touch as he circled it in time to his thrusts. His hand tightened against your throat, feeling your moans vibrate against his palm as you reached your high.

Your back arched and your eyes rolled back before fluttering closed. The pinch in your brow and the way your mouth hung silently open sent him over the edge, your own euphoria being enough to make him cum.

You squeezed his cock tight, milking everything he had to fill you up.

Everything came to a slow halt, Tamaki slowed his grinding before allowing his softened length to slip free. His cum dripped from your still spasming entrance, making a mess of your bedsheets. Neither of you cared, however, as he laid beside you.

“I love you,” you whispered against his chest, eyes fluttering with sleep.

“...I love you too,” he replied, kissing the top of your head.

As you drifted to sleep, you missed the flood of tears that dripped down his still flushed cheeks.

The next morning, the birds chirping from your open balcony door woke you up. Immediately, images of last night came to mind. You sat up, holding your sheets to your chest as you looked around.

Your nightgown and panties Tamaki had stripped you of were folded atop your dresser and there was no sign of your boyfriend.

Or rather...ex-boyfriend.

The thought made your heart clench and you couldn’t stop the stinging in your eyes.

It was really over.

Your parents miracuously, and unfortunately, noticed the rapid change in your demeanor. They grilled you on the cause, although they already knew it was related to your feelings for Tamaki. Over the course of the month since he disappeared from your bed without another word, you’d grown more withdrawn and lonely. The everyday, boring rule-filled life you lived losing the tiny glimmer of happiness Tamaki once provided.

“Is this about Tamaki’s engagement?” your mother asked one evening, making everything around you come to a screeching halt. Your eyes fell to her at the other end of the table. She wasn’t looking at you, shaking her head as she cut the steak on her plate, “It’s silly to be upset over something like that. I would have expected you to be over him by now.”

“I love him…” you confessed tearfully.

Your father scoffed, “don’t be ridiculous. Love is pointless, you know that.”

“But I…” you were cut off by your mother’s sharp glare.

“You think your father and I love each other?” you fell silent at those words, “You’d be wise to let go of that stupid fantasy of marrying for love right now.”

“We’ll take care of that soon, don’t you worry,” your father threatened with a glare that let you know the conversation was over.

The man certainly lived up to his threat because the following week, you found yourself sitting at a table with Enji and Rei Todoroki. Shoto Todoroki sat stiffly to your right, fisting his dress pants with a cold look on his face.

“I’m glad you’ve finally seen reason,” Enji spoke in that ugly, superior tone that made your face morph to one of disgust. Glancing at Shoto, you saw his eyes narrowed at his father.

At least he seemed to hate him as well.

“Well, our daughter seems to need it,” your mother spoke in a sickly sweet tone, “She’s got this foolish idea of love in her silly head. So we decided your offer for marrying young Shoto couldn’t have happened at a better time!”

Enji nodded with his arms crossed over his puffed out chest, “Excellent. You won’t regret your decision. I’ll have the proper paperwork filed as soon as this weekend and we can begin the proper preperations.”

You heard Shoto sigh beside you as he stood up, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked up to find a sorrowful look in his eyes that almost made you cry, “I’m sorry…”

With that soft sentiment whispered soft enough that no one could hear him, he held his hand out to you. You sighed and took it, allowing him to help you to your feet.

“_____ and I will take a walk,” Shoto announced, “I’d like to get to know her a bit more.”

“Excellent idea, dear,” Rei praised, though you couldn’t help but think the smile on her face was more than fake.

Shoto squeezed your hand, leading you out of the room. Once the two of you were safely away from the prying eyes of staff, hidden away in the garden, he released your hold.

“You fell in love with someone you weren’t supposed to, huh?” he mused, making you look up at him in shock. He chuckled softly, “Don’t worry, whatever you tell me is safe with me.”

“Yeah…” you whispered, frowning at the cobblestone ground, “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to be with him until we were already together. My parents keep telling me it’s stupid to be in love…”

“I understand,” he sighed, starting a slow pace walking around with his hands clasped behind his back. When you looked up at him, he was gazing at the moon, the light making the glassiness of his eyes even more visible than you would have thought, “I did the same thing.”

“Really?” you couldn’t help but ask.

He nodded, chin wobbling slightly before he spoke, “Her name was Momo. We were together for almost 3 years before she was married off to some guy before I even knew it was happening. She told me that it was never going to work between us anyway so we shouldn’t have even bothered,” he sighed, “I was pretty heartbroken.”

“It seems you still are,” you mused softly.

He chuckled, looking over at you finally with a sad smile, “That’s the life we live, isn’t it? Sad and lonely...nothing is truly ours, not even our love.”

Those words resonated in your heart, making you bite your lip to fight back tears. He stopped, taking your hand in his similar to how Tamaki had that last night you were together.

“Regardless of whether we are married or not,” he breathed, “I will never expect you to love me but...I will make sure you at least enjoy my company. I won’t let us become like our parents. We can at least have that bit of happiness to ourselves, right?”

“Shoto…” you breathed, the tears you had been fighting back finally coming forth.

He cupped the back of your head, bringing you in for a sweet hug, “Who knows...maybe if we’re lucky we’ll be able to love each other in the end…”

Those words faded into the night, neither of you sure if such a thing would ever be possible. Both of your hearts already belonged to other people. It was a painful existence but you could have wound up arranged to be wed to a worse man.

Shoto wasn’t bad, you knew that. He managed to make you feel happy when you were together ― which became more frequent the closer your wedding date grew. Of course, he didn’t make you anywhere near as happy as Tamaki did.

You desperately missed the closeness you felt with him. How it felt to be wrapped up in the strong arms of a man who loved you. Almost every night, you found yourself sleeping on a wet pillow.

The night before your wedding, you found yourself sitting in your bedroom with a dual haired man standing in the middle of it. It felt so strange; he was going to be your husband in just 12 hours but you still had another man on your mind.

You remembered how it felt to have Tamaki sneaking into your room late at night too.

“What’re you doing here?” you asked softly.

“You’ve been crying,” he pointed out, making you wince.

“I’m sorry…” you apologized, unsure what for.

“Why are you saying sorry?” he chuckled softly, walking closer to you.

“I’m crying because I’m marrying you tomorrow, that can’t feel very good,” you sighed.

He shook his head, hands tucked in his pockets, “I get it. That’s why I came here.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, wiping a stray tear away.

“_____,” he sighed, “Is it really worth it? What do you get out of doing what they say? You’re an adult...there’s nothing they can do to stop you from leaving. You have a good education and I’m sure Tamaki does as well,” his words had you pausing, “You might not wind up with as much money as you have now but at least you’ll have the freedom to be a person. I lost my chance by letting my parents control my life and take Momo away from me. But you still have a chance.”

“Are you saying…?”

He smiled, placing his hand on top of your head, “Be with Tamaki. Even if it’s just for a few months or a few years, you’ll know what it’s like to live your own life. I can’t even imagine what they could feel like. Aren’t you tired of living like this? With all these rules...they tell us who we can be friends with, what to eat, how to sit at the damn dinner table...we’re barely even people. We’re just a means of obtaining power. Our parents marry us to the most powerful families they can in hopes of getting an heir worth a damn. It’s bullshit.”

“Shoto…” you whispered, a new sense of life flowing through you, “What if he’s not willing to leave it all?”

He shrugged, “Then at least you can say you tried and...in the morning if it didn’t work then you can marry me and we’ll adopt a damn dog or something.”

“I’m allergic to dogs,” you countered.

“A fucking cat then,” the uncharacteristic curse had you giggling into your hand.

“Thank you, Shoto,” he took a step back as you stood up, “I’ll see you around.”

“We’ll see,” he replied, watching as you wrapped a measly bathrobe around yourself, not a care in the world about getting properly dressed.

You were out of breath by the time you made it to Tamaki’s. Your car was parked down the street to avoid attracting any attention. Tamaki’s bedroom light was on and you eagerly climbed the lattice that decorated the side of the house.

Peeking into his room, you could see that he was sitting at his desk, writing something. He tensed when he heard his balcony door open, spinning in his chair to gape at you.

“_____?” he gasped, jumping to his feet to shut the door and close the curtain. He gripped your arms, hissing when he felt your temperature, “It’s freezing out what the hell are you doing wearing that?”

You beamed at his care for you, throwing your arms around his shoulders. Immediately, his hands found purchase on your hips to hold you against him.

“Run away with me, Tama,” you breathed.

He froze, pulling away from you with wide eyes, “Wh-What?”

“Run away with me,” you repeated, fisting his shirt, “What’s really keeping us here? We can make it on our own, we have good educations and can get good jobs. We can be together and be happy without outside voices whispering in our ears. We can be normal people, Tamaki.”

He was quiet, loosening his grip on you to take a few steps back. He ran his hand through his hair with a sigh. The happiness and confidence you had built up quickly crashed and you found yourself feeling foolish.

Why would he want to leave everything behind for you? He was in the same position as you; due to be married soon. Hanging your head, you let out a sigh.

“It’s alright,” you whispered, shrugging your shoulders, “I get it’s something really big to ask. You don’t have to take me up on it. I just thought...I would see.”

He still didn’t say anything and you turned on your heel to make way for the balcony, “I’m um...getting married tomorrow so...I just thought you should know that I love you so much, Tama. Being with you was the best thing I ever had...even when I’m married with Shoto, I’ll never stop thinking of you, okay? I wish you the best in your own marriage.”

You got out to the balcony, swinging one leg over the rail to climb down when two strong arms pulled you back. You gasped when you fell to the ground, your weight pressed against Tamaki as he buried his face in your neck. It didn’t take you long to realize he was crying. His tears wet your shoulder as he squeezed you tight.

“Don’t go,” he cried, “The idea of you being with another man...it’s too much.”

“Tama…” you whispered, holding onto him in return.

“Let’s do it,” he sniffled, pulling back to gaze into your eyes. He leaned forwards and pressed his lips to yours, “I’ll pack a bag. Have you got a bag?”

“No,” you replied sheepishly, “I wasn’t sure if you would say yes so I didn’t want to assume.”

He chuckled, untangling himself from you before moving back into his room, tossing all sorts of clothes and valuables into his suitcase. You laughed as he talked about selling stuff for money.

Before long, he was packed and ready to go.

Once you were sitting inside your car, the heat blasting as you warmed your cold skin, he reached over and took your hand in his. You looked at him, finding that familiar look of love in his eyes that never failed to make your heart soar.

As he squeezed your hand, you just knew that everything was going to be just fine.

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki smut #bnha imagines #mha x reader #mha smut

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miracleonice87 · 3 years

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’tis the damn season

an Auston Matthews song fic

a/n: based on the absolute masterpiece that is ’tis the damn season by Taylor Swift from evermore. This one was not on my WIP list but came over me as soon as I heard the song when the album dropped. also have no idea how it became my longest piece yet, by far (as in 12k+ whoops). obviously, I do not own any of the music/lyrics to this song nor any other I write about.

summary: Auston Matthews and his ex-girlfriend are reunited in their hometown years after their difficult breakup.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sex, a delicate balance of angst and fluff. a bit of a slow burn, if you want to call it that.

_____

You might have been one of the few people on the planet who disagreed with the phrase, “There’s no place like home for the holidays.” At least, for the last few years, that hadn’t exactly been your sentiment.

But, you were home anyway, after a few weeks of your mother’s guilt tripping and your father’s repeated phone calls. And, admittedly, you were enjoying your quiet time at home with your parents.

After helping your mom bake a few dozen cookies for the Christmas Eve party they were throwing tomorrow night, you wandered upstairs to your childhood bedroom to change out of your flour-covered attire and maybe squeeze in a nap. An undeniable perk of staying with your parents during the holidays — so many opportunities to sleep. As you pulled on a well-worn, long-sleeved ASU t-shirt you found hanging in your closet, your phone rang.

You groaned and swore to yourself that if it was your editor again, you were quitting. She’d already interrupted your time off at least once throughout each of your three days at home thus far — your first week of vacation in the two and a half years you’d been with the fashion magazine. You rolled your eyes and reached for the sounding device on your bed, then recoiled when you saw the contact name — or rather, initials — on the screen.

Oh, god.

Even worse, the years-old contact photo popped up behind the name — a picture of the two of you lying together on the shore on your vacation four years ago, right after the draft, when you both still held onto the naive belief that nothing that had just happened in his world would change things between the two of you.

“Shit,” you whispered, covering your mouth while anxiety coursed through your veins.

You couldn’t just not answer. Right? The two of you were on decent terms, though you couldn’t quite remember the last time you’d spoken — probably seven, eight months ago. You had no good reason to ignore his call.

And after all... you were the one who had ended things.

You cleared your throat and, trying to coach yourself into mustering up some semblance of courage, quickly repeated, “Okay, okay, okay, okay.” Then, like ripping off a bandaid, you hurriedly tapped the green button and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Matthews,” you greeted curtly — tentatively.

“Kels. Come over,” Auston said abruptly, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I know you’re home.”

You squinted and glanced around your room, racking your brain as you tried to figure out how exactly your ex-boyfriend knew your current whereabouts.

“What?” you asked, puzzled, not to mention slightly shocked that he was even interested in seeing you in person — though some part of you was, indeed, grateful for that. “How did you even know I was in Scottsdale?”

“Uh, your Instagram story, my dear,” he said, obviously amused. “You posted this morning from that new coffee shop between the Methodist church and our old school building. Remember?”

You rubbed a hand over your face, suddenly regretting adding him to your close friends list on Instagram six weeks ago after a few glasses of wine with your girlfriends.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, eliciting a chuckle from Auston.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself thinking I sit around and stalk you, sweetheart,” he teased. “I thought about replying but I didn’t wanna slide into your DMs and look like a fuckboy.” He paused, and you opened your mouth to make a halfhearted wisecrack that you didn’t truly mean, but before you could speak, he added, “Plus you probably get so many DMs, I’m sure mine would just get lost in the shuffle.”

Again, you rolled your eyes. “Matthews,” you repeated, whinier now.

“C’mon, Kels. Just come over,” he whined back. “I just got in last night. I’m staying at my parents’ house. My sisters nearly busted down my door when they saw you were back in town, plus I know my mom and dad would love to see you.”

Suddenly, two decades’ worth of memories that you had long ago pushed to the back of your mind flooded all at once to the forefront of your consciousness. Sleepovers watching Disney Channel movies and eating peach rings with Alex and Brey. Brian scooping you up in his arms after a nasty tumble off your bike on their street, propping you on the kitchen counter as he bandaged the scrapes on your knees, Auston never leaving your side nor letting go of your hand. Road trips with Ema to watch Auston play in countless tournaments, with you doing homework in the front seat while Ema sang along to the radio. Matthews family dinners eating Ema’s famous chicken tortilla soup. Vacations and carpool and pickup basketball games and shopping for prom dresses and just the mundane, everyday routine you had been part of for so many years.

And those were just the memories that involved his sisters, his parents. You didn’t dare let your mind uncover the buried memories of him, and him alone.

You missed them. Sometimes you missed them all so much that it made your heart physically ache and your stomach drop and your mouth go dry.

So, you drew a long, deep breath, and against your better judgment, eventually said, “Okay. Fine. But you have to send me your parents’ address. I haven’t been to the new Matthews McMansion.”

Auston huffed on the other end. “So mean to me.”

_____

It was certainly a far cry from the modest old ranch-style house where Auston had spent his childhood.

As you pulled up to the sprawling estate in the bougie part of town and cut your engine, you whispered, “What the fuck am I doing here...”

And still, after a quick check of your makeup in your rearview mirror, you got out of the car, closed your door and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head, sighing as you took in the four vehicles parked in front of yours in the roundabout driveway, none of which you had ever seen before. Audi, Mercedes, BMW, Porsche. Well, you could guess which one was Auston’s.

You walked up the stone sidewalk and slipped your aviators into your purse — it was only then that you noticed that your hands were trembling.

You cleared your throat and exhaled sharply, willing your nerves to subside, as you arrived at the door and pressed the button on its frame, sounding an elaborate chime inside.

“I got it,” you immediately heard a familiar voice call, and you took a startled step backward as you saw his figure approaching through the decorative glass panes outlining the doorway. As he pulled open the door, the flutter you’d tried your hardest to avoid feeling for three years took flight once more in your belly.

“Matthews,” you greeted again, arms crossed in front of you in hopes of hiding your shaking hands.

“Why’d ya bother to ring the doorbell, you nutjob?” Auston asked with a broad smile.

Before you could throw a snide remark back at him, he pulled you into himself, one arm snaking around your mid-back and the other hand cradling your head to his chest. Inadvertently, you exhaled contentedly, and you swore you felt Auston tighten his grip on you then. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself relax into him for longer than you had intended. He just felt so… familiar. Broad. Strong. Comforting.

He was just… Auston. A thousand things had changed for the two of you, but the way you felt in his presence hadn’t changed since you were a little girl.

You inhaled his cologne, and you noticed that he was doing just the same — breathing in your long-worn Chanel No. 5 perfume, the same kind he used to save up all year to buy you each Christmas.

At that memory, you snapped back to reality and extricated yourself from his embrace, leaving him looking slightly disappointed, though still pleased with your greeting.

“Hi,” you spoke simply as you stared up at him, then chuckled at how stupid that sounded.

“Hi,” he mimicked, head bobbling and eyes widening, causing you both to fall into a giddy fit of nervous laughter over nothing at all.

Just then, you saw Ema’s head pop out from beneath an arched opening toward the back of the house — probably leading to the kitchen, you assumed. Ema was always in the kitchen.

“I thought I heard your laugh,” she sang. You couldn’t help but beam, and Auston smiled and moved out of your way so that you had a direct pathway to his mother. Taking advantage of that, you made a beeline for the petite woman you considered your second mom, already feeling emotion bubbling up in your throat as tears blurred your vision.

“Oh, mija,” Ema said, her voice tight as she met you in the middle of the grand entryway and gathered you into her arms. “Te extrañamos,” (we miss you) she said sincerely.

Auston cupped the back of his neck and quickly looked away then, fearful that he may just shed tears of his own.

You sniffled and murmured, “Los extrañé a todos mucho,” (I missed you all so much) into Ema’s shoulder as she smoothed her hand lovingly over the back of your head.

When you finally parted, moving past the brief sadness of the reunion, Ema still held tightly to your hands, extending her arms so that she could see you better.

“You look more beautiful than ever!” she exclaimed, and you dropped your head bashfully at her compliment. “California is treating you well.”

You nodded. “For the most part,” you remarked with a sigh. Ema glanced quickly from your face to her son’s and back again, deciding not to dwell for too long on that loaded response.

“Well,” she pivoted with a click of her tongue. “You look great. Now come, come! I know Auston’s going to want to steal you away from me, not that I blame him, but I just put on some tea, so let’s sit and have some first.”

“Ma…” Auston protested lightheartedly. Ema wagged her finger at him. “Shh! Mijo! My long lost daughter has returned. Give me ten minutes for a cup of tea with her.”

Auston’s lips parted at her use of the word “daughter,” not that he should have been surprised by it, and you tossed him an animated shrug as Ema pulled you down the hallway back from whence she came. You were right — it was the kitchen, and it was a spectacular one at that.

“Holy…” you trailed off as Ema patted one of the leather barstools at the enormous island in the center of the room. You took a seat, pulling your cross body bag from your shoulder and placing it on the island, and commented, “This kitchen is incredible, Ema. I’m sure you love spending time here.”

Ema nodded and excitedly launched into stories of using all the appliances and gadgets she had never owned before, walking back to the teakettle on the stove as Auston sat down on the nearest barstool, feeling as though he could simply be dreaming, hallucinating, that you were here, sitting with him in his parents’ kitchen. But when you noticed him taking the seat next to yours, you tossed him a classic Kelsey smile and nudged his shoulder with your own, and he felt just slightly more confident that this was reality. Unable to resist your magnetism, which hadn’t faded with time but seemed instead to have only grown stronger, he squeezed your knee beneath the countertop, just as Ema approached with a cup of tea in hand for you.

Choosing to react instead to Ema rather than her son, you grinned and thanked her, feeling Auston’s eyes on you as you lifted the mug to your lips and took small sips, Ema still prattling on happily from the other side of the kitchen. You eventually cast a sidelong glance Auston’s way, accompanied by an amused smirk, the combination of which left him beaming as he looked away from you and back toward his mother, who now approached with two more cups of tea.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said as he wrapped his hands around the mug she offered him.

“You’re welcome, mijo,” Ema replied. “Now Kelsey, honey, how long are you in town?”

“Uh, just until the day after Christmas,” you replied, swirling a finger along the ceramic rim of your mug. “This is the most time I’ve taken off since I started at the magazine,” you admitted with a hint of embarrassment.

Ema nodded. “Your mother said you haven’t made it home for a while. I know they keep you pretty busy there. Is that why you don’t visit so much?” she asked unassumingly.

Auston dropped his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly against the tile floor, and your eyes flickered to him as you racked your brain for an answer that wasn’t a complete lie but also didn’t unmask the whole truth — which was that being in a town that held so much history with your ex was simply too suffocating to bear, even for a quick visit with your parents. So, you typically just stayed in California where you could throw yourself into your work as a fashion writer at a well-known publication and operate under the illusion that you had moved on. From Scottsdale, from Auston, from your life before Los Angeles.

And especially from Toronto.

But the problem was, when the night fell and the lights all faded and you were left to face the truth, you knew in your heart that that’s really all it was — an illusion.

And from 2,500 miles away, Auston knew it, too. He knew it because he was living the same lie.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied sheepishly. “That’s the gist of it. Just, uh, just hard to get away sometimes. My parents usually come out to visit me instead since their schedules are, uh, a little more flexible.”

“Right,” Ema said skeptically as you took a long pull from your mug, despite the hot liquid singing your tongue and making your eyes water. “Well, either way, it’s so good to finally see you here,” she added warmly.

“It’s good to see you too,” you breathed, honesty dripping from that answer.

Auston finally looked at you again, giving you an understanding smile. Even that smallest of gestures made you dizzy.

“So,” you said as you moved away from the topic, sitting up a bit straighter. “Where are the girls? Where’s Brian?”

“Golfing,” Auston answered. “Like always,” he added with a chuckle.

“Why am I not surprised?” you teased, making both Ema and Auston laugh.

“They begged Auston to come with them, but he turned them down,” Ema informed you. “And now we know why.” She lifted her eyebrows and took another sip of her tea as Auston shook his head.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he joked. “But no, they’ll be back soon. They can’t wait to see you.”

You brightened at that, not having seen the Matthews girls in nearly as long as it had been since you’d seen Auston himself, finding it easier to breathe when they weren’t nearby, reminding you of him with their every mannerism. And yet, you’d found that starving yourself of their friendship and their company ached nearly just as much.

“I can’t wait either,” you said through a distant smile.

“And Dad will probably cry more than Mom did when he sees you,” Auston predicted, lifting his mug. Ema swatted at his arm.

“Don’t start with me!” she warned. “I happened to see you choking up out there, too.”

You turned to Auston and raised an accusing brow at him. He simply chuckled into his tea and looked away, and the three of you sat in silence for a beat.

“Come on,” he finally said as he rested his mug on the island, nodding his head in the direction of the sliding glass door at the back of the house. “Lemme show you the patio.”

You nodded, knowing full well that showing off the backyard was not the real reason he was inviting you outside. Despite that knowledge, you hopped off the barstool, put your mug in the sink, and kissed Ema on the cheek as you passed her.

“Thanks for the tea, mamacita,” you said with a smile, squeezing her shoulders. “Anytime, mi amor,” she replied, sending a wink your way as you turned to follow Auston.

He slid open the door and motioned for you to step through it first. When he saw his mother watching you through the kitchen window, he gave her a knowing smirk, and she put her hands up in innocence. But as she watched you two walk out onto the patio through the glass, she breathed a silent prayer to any higher power who would listen that maybe, just maybe, you would finally come home.

Not to Scottsdale, no. Home to Auston.

Meanwhile, you were trailing your hand along the hammock near the pool, taking in the scene and trying to remember to breathe. When you heard him close the door, you turned back to Auston, your eyes floating around the backyard.

“Nice setup they’ve got back here,” you grinned, Auston chuckling with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

“Yeah, it’s even nicer in the summer,” he commented. You nodded, stepping closer to the pool and lowering yourself to sit on the edge, patting the space next to you as an invitation for Auston to do the same.

“We have chairs, ya know,” he grumbled as he took a seat. “Not all of us like to sit on the floor all day doing yoga.”

You sneered at him. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I do all day long,” you said sarcastically.

“Well, you used to, anyway,” he mumbled.

You gulped as visions of him watching you do precarious yoga poses on the living room floor of his apartment flickered in your mind’s eye, and then, once again, you moved right along.

“So… how’s it going, Matthews? How’s life?” you prompted, not even sure if you truly wanted to hear the answer to your inquiry.

He stretched out his long legs so that his feet were dangling above the water as he wondered where to even begin.

“It’s… it’s good,” he said. “Overall. It’s nice to be home for a few days. Needed that. I missed it. Missed my family. Missed…” he stopped himself, “…other things,” he added under his breath.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and decided to avoid the path he was taking this down. “How’s hockey?” you asked instead.

Auston shifted noticeably at the mention of his career, still painfully aware that, despite the successes it had brought him, it had ultimately caused the demise of your relationship.

“Hockey is… hockey,” he said. “Honestly it’s good on the whole. But the team’s not having the greatest year so far, which is rough.” You nodded, knowing better than most that the Toronto media operated at a different level of intensity and scrutiny than that of nearly all other markets, especially when the Leafs were losing, and especially when new blood was added into the equation, like Auston’s had been when they drafted him.

Like yours had been when you moved there with him.

The spotlight they shone on you — and the subsequent attention you received from so-called fans who took to the internet to question your intentions and integrity — had been far more than you bargained for.

Just as you were about to ask about how the guys on the team were faring, Auston spoke again.

“I think about calling you every time we come to LA, Kels,” he said, fixing his eyes on the neighbor’s house in the distance because he was simply unable to look at you while he admitted it. With a sniff, he added, “I’m not gonna lie about that.”

“Why don’t you?” you asked after a beat, maybe unfairly, studying his familiar profile. His features were the same, of course, but he looked… more mature. Older. Wiser. All that jazz. Auston shrugged, still not capable of looking at you.

“Just didn’t think you’d want me to,” he answered dejectedly. Your heart sank into your stomach. Given the things you’d said when you left him nearly three years ago, you could hardly blame him for that one.

“Well,” you started with a sigh. “I guess we could call it even then, because I think about coming to see you play every time you come to LA. Or Anaheim. Or even Vegas. And obviously Phoenix.”

“Well why didn’t you just call me asking for free tickets then,” he said in a tone that he tried to disguise as facetious, but you heard the hurt seeping into his words. “Everybody else I know in any NHL city does.”

You felt a fierce sense of protectiveness then, clenching your jaw as you tried to calm your irate thoughts. You watched him pick at the sleeve of his black Raiders crewneck and felt deeply for him — this man you’d loved since he was a little boy.

“Do they really? Still?” you asked in monotone.

Auston nodded, squinting in the sunlight. “Yup,” he answered, popping the ‘p.’ “Every game.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, covering your eyes with your hand and pushing into your temples. You blew out a long breath. “Fuck. I’m really sorry about that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I… it just sucks.”

Auston shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” he stated. “Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t. Kinda depends on whether the person’s actually talked to me lately.”

You nodded as he chuckled sadly, and you felt your chest tighten. “Well,” you began, clearing your throat. “I guess I wouldn’t qualify then because we haven’t talked much.”

Auston looked at you with intensity surging in his deep brown eyes, and you wanted to look away but found that you couldn’t.

“You always qualify,” he said seriously. “You’re one of the only people that qualifies.”

You bit down, hard, on your bottom lip and grappled internally with the weight of his comment. Then he said sarcastically, “Besides, I know you’re only after my money. I mean, you forced me to buy you that Louis bag the week after I got drafted.”

Your jaw dropped at his joke, and you scoffed indignantly. “Oh, yeah, the one you finally had to hide in my closet after I kept sneaking it back into your car because I wanted you to return it?” you corrected. “Yeah, ya caught me. You know me, Aus. Such a gold digger.”

Auston had started laughing halfway through your quip, but stopped suddenly. You gave him a questioning look, and he paused before answering.

“You called me Aus,” he stated with a smile he tried and failed to hide. “You went back to calling me Matthews after we broke up. But you… you just called me Aus again.”

“Yeah, well...” you grumbled, “Don’t get too excited.” You tossed him a smirk and he mirrored it, basking in the comfort of the moment.

“So whaddya think of the place? Not bad, right?” he finally asked, glancing around the property, back at the house, then settling his focus back on you.

You shrugged. “A little gaudy for my taste, but...” you began, and Auston shook his head bemusedly, knowing he set himself up for that one.

“No, it’s great. I can see how much your mom loves it. In all seriousness, I think it’s amazing, everything you’ve done for your family. Your parents. It’s pretty incredible,” you said earnestly. “I don’t think I said it enough when we were together, but, I’m really proud of you, Aus. And I don’t just mean about the hockey.”

Auston nodded soberly, turning his head to look you in the eye.

“I know you don’t,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Kels. It means a lot coming from you. More, uh… more than you know.”

And then, before you could think twice about doing so, you reached out your hand to rest atop his, feeling its familiar warmth as your fingertips grazed the raised veins there. Auston swallowed hard, blinking at where your hands now met, and slowly wrapped your fingers in his, giving them a squeeze. You exchanged long stares before you eventually slammed on the brakes in your brain and carried on.

“So, you just casually hang out with Justin Bieber now?” you asked, reaching your palms behind you and leaning back. “And the wildest shit is that I saw it first when he posted it, not you.”

Auston chuckled, looking down at his slides and — ironically — Drew socks combo. In his signature way, he halted his laughter on a dime and his face turned somber as he said dryly, “Yeah, I’m like really famous now, yanno?”

You sighed in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you looked skyward, feeling Auston’s gaze turn to you. You let it go for a few moments before shifting only your eyes toward his.

“What?” you asked accusingly. You could tell by the faraway smirk on his face that he was lost in a memory.

“Remember you had posters of him hung up all over your room in like middle school? From Tiger Beat magazine and shit? And now I play video games and mini sticks with the guy,” Auston said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and if you ever tell him about that, I’ll end your life,” you threatened, shoving at his arm and attempting to ignore how much his biceps had grown since you last touched them. And then you were slamming the door shut on a rush of memories of having him beneath your touch — some innocent, but most intimate.

Auston saw it in your eyes — the place you went for a moment — as you dropped your hand back to the concrete beneath you. He knew where you went because, so often, he went there, too.

He held your gaze and promised, “Your secret’s safe with me. You know that.”

Only a hint of a smile graced your lips for a fleeting moment as you ran your fingers through your hair. Suddenly, you felt the heaviness of the history between the two of you closing in — smothering you, like it always did. Auston watched helplessly, wishing it didn’t have to be this hard.

And then, in a flash, like he so often did to save you from your swirling thoughts, he casually changed the topic as he commented, “Your hair’s shorter. You look like your mom. In a good way.”

Blushing, you breathed a laugh through your nose. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I think it’s the highlights, too.”

“It is,” Auston confirmed, and then — damn him — he reached out and looped a lock from the front of your face between his thumb and forefinger, the way he had done a thousand times before, usually mid-conversation, always absentmindedly. This time, you knew, as you forced your eyes to meet his, it was a bit more calculated. “I really like it,” he told you.

You nodded, searching his eyes to try and determine whether he had any idea what this — this moment, this visit, this day — really was.

“If you’re gonna ask me what we’re doing,” Auston spoke, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, “then I have to tell you I have no idea.”

Again, damn him. After all this time, it was like he still lived inside your brain and had read your every thought like the morning paper before you even had the chance to convey it. Which used to save you in a lot of ways. Now it felt kind of… intrusive. But somehow you didn’t mind.

“I had no idea what I was even gonna say when I called you. All I know,” he continued, still flipping the strand of hair around his fingers, “is that I really wanted to see you, and that I was really happy when you came, and that I’m really enjoying this time with you.”

You nodded, and as he pulled his hand from your face, his thumb brushed your jawline just slightly, and that touch alone sent a bolt of lightning through you. Auston smiled softly as he said barely above a whisper, “Okay, now it’s your turn to say something.”

You heaved a sigh, tipping your head back with eyes closed and soaking in the sunshine. “I don’t expect you to know, Aus,” you finally spoke. “I was just so... so shocked, I guess, that you wanted to see me. It’s been so long, I just... I didn’t know when I would see you again.”

“We’ve talked though,” Auston pointed out with a sigh to match yours, pulling a knee to his chest and wrapping his arms around his bent leg. “FaceTimed. Texted.”

You rolled your head toward him. “It’s not the same,” you reasoned softly, hesitantly reaching out your hand to tuck some of his black hair behind his ear. He licked his lips swiftly and placed a peck to your thumb before you slowly withdrew your hand.

“You’re right,” Auston conceded. “Definitely not the same.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt...”

You were snapped out of your private moment by one person’s voice and another person’s squeal behind you.

“Oh, my god!” you yelled as you shot up from the side of the pool, Alexandria and Breyana already scampering toward you from the back door.

“It’s about goddamn time you came back to us!” Alex shrieked, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I missed you, little sister,” she cooed, rubbing her hands across your back, and you hummed in agreement.

“I missed you, Al,” you replied, kissing her temple as you stepped back to greet the youngest of the Matthews clan.

“And you. My baby!” you exclaimed, pulling Breyana into your arms. “The true star athlete of the family,” you teased as she squeezed your waist.

“Damn straight,” Breyana giggled. “I missed you, Kels. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You pulled away, glancing behind you as you saw Auston slowly approaching out of the corner of your eye. “Me either,” you admitted, eyes widening dramatically as the girls snickered at you. “How was golf?”

“Brey smoked us, no surprise,” Alex replied. “But shut up about the golf. Tell us what’s going on with you two.”

“Alex!” Auston warned, shooting her a glare. “Please don’t.”

Alex gave him her best older sister roll of the eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as Breyana looked between the two of you.

“Nope,” Alex refused. “Not until you tell me what’s up. C’mon, spill.”

“We’re just...” you began, swiveling to look Auston’s way as he smirked down at you, happy to let you flounder in this one all on your own. “Visiting,” you finished, nodding once at Alex, pleased with your choice of verbiage.

“Honestly, you guys…” Breyana lamented.

“Visiting, huh?” Alex echoed, growing even more suspicious. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Wear protection. Anyways, uh—“

“Alex!” Auston repeated, this time through clenched teeth. “I swear to god...”

“Anyways, like I was saying,” Alex continued. “Your parents invited us all to their house tomorrow night for the Christmas party. I didn’t think you were gonna be there — does this mean you will?”

You nodded, causing Alex to clap excitedly. “I’ll be there with bells on,” you confirmed. “I already made my shortbread cookies.” All three siblings moaned in delight at the mention of your famous treats.

“Hell yeah! Plus that means we won’t be the only ones escaping to the balcony to drink,” Breyana commented.

“Brey, you’re like twelve,” Auston taunted, earning him a sharp elbow to the ribs from his younger sister. “You don’t get to drink with us.”

“Whatever,” she retorted. “Like you guys weren’t sneaking Mom and Dad’s liquor when you were younger than me.”

“Anyways,” Alex said yet again, clearing her throat. “We’re gonna go back inside now and shower, and just, uh, leave you guys to whatever it is you were doing beside the pool there. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. See ya,” she sang, spinning Breyana by the shoulders and guiding her inside, both girls whispering and giggling all the while. “Kels, I’ll call you tonight — you can tell me all about it!” Alex called over her shoulder, sliding the door closed.

You turned to see a pink tinge to Auston’s cheeks as he muttered, “Sorry,” with a dry laugh. You shook your head.

“No, don’t be,” you insisted, waving him off as you took a seat at the glass picnic table beside you, Auston following your lead. “It wouldn’t be a visit to the Matthews house without Alex torturing the both of us,” you teased.

Auston nodded. “Very true,” he said, and you knew he didn’t want to stop there, but he couldn’t seem to find what he did want to say next.

Instead, you ventured, “So what are your—”

At the very same time, he started, “Kels, would you maybe—”

You both chuckled at yourselves, locking eyes. This certainly wasn’t the first time this had happened in conversations — far from it. And usually, you were about to say the very same thing.

So, you motioned for him to speak first.

He toyed with the band of his watch as he said nervously, “I was just gonna say, uh, would you maybe wanna go to dinner with me? Tonight?”

You sat back in your chair, smirking, fully aware that you were teetering on a damn fine line.

“I was hoping you might say that.”

_____

An hour later, after reuniting with Brian (Auston was right — he cried more than the rest of his family combined when he hugged you), you headed home to change for dinner. As you pulled away from the Matthews house, you were thankful that Auston had offered to follow you in his own vehicle so that he could drive you to dinner, which in turn gave each of you a few minutes to breathe.

Surprisingly, your mother didn’t seem at all shocked to see the guest you had brought back with you. You had told her that you were going to visit the Matthews’, not specifying which member of the family had invited you, though she could venture a guess. When she watched two vehicles pull into the driveway side by side, she inhaled an excited gasp, a smile overwhelming her features as she came to meet you at the front door, just as you laughed at a lame joke Auston cracked about your driving.

Your mother nearly tackled him in a hug, which he warmly returned. He shared a similar bond with your mom to the one you shared with his, which was yet another piece that fit perfectly into the puzzle that was your relationship. So many pieces fit, and so few didn’t, but that still didn’t make things whole.

But, you ignored that thought — and so many others — as you left the two to chat, bounding up the stairs to change, now grateful that you’d brought more than one nice option to wear to the Christmas party tomorrow, considering the rest of your suitcase was filled with comfy loungewear.

How could you have ever planned for this?

After touching up your hair and makeup and putting on the more understated of the dressy outfits you’d brought, you returned to the kitchen where your mom and Auston stood huddled at the counter, near empty glasses of red wine in front of them both.

“Already boozin’, huh?” you teased as you folded your arms in front of you. They chuckled, and Auston glanced at you over his shoulder with a smile. When he laid eyes on you, though, he stood straight up and turned to face you, making no attempt to hide his stare, even in front of your mother. Without taking his gaze off of you, he threw back his final sip of wine and blew out a flustered breath. You knew you were blushing, so you walked past him to your mother, pressing your cheek to hers for an air kiss so as not to mess up your lipstick.

“Sorry to take your favorite boy away from you, but we should head out,” you announced as you looked back at Auston. He cleared his throat, walking to the other side of the countertop to hug your mom again, thanking her for the wine and something else that you didn’t quite catch.

He followed you down the hall, his hand ghosting along the small of your back as you reached for your purse on the coat rack. You looked back and blew a final kiss to your mom, who waved as she watched Auston open the passenger door of his car and help you in — both of you giggling as you crouched into the low-riding vehicle in your skirt and high heels. Like a mom of a young teen, she stood at the window and watched the two of you drive down the block and out of sight, hands clasped together wistfully as she turned back to finish placing the final decorative touches in the living room ahead of tomorrow.

Just a minute later, your dad came through the door from the grocery store, calling for her, sounding nearly breathless.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, smoothing the silk ribbon wrapped around the banister.

“Marie… did I just see Auston driving Kelsey down the road in a Porsche?” he gaped, his brow furrowed, thumb pointed over his shoulder.

She laughed, looking downward as she nodded.

“Yes, you did,” she confirmed, then looked at him as she felt tears welling. “Jack... I can’t say for sure, but I think maybe the girl is finally coming to her senses.”

A smile spread slowly across your father’s face and he came toward your mother, wrapping her in a hug.

“Well…” he began, kissing her temple. “Then maybe we’ll get our Christmas wish after all.”

“And what’s that?” your mom asked.

“For her to be happy again.”

_____

“You look amazing, Kels,” Auston said seriously from the driver’s seat. “Gorgeous.”

You gave him a coy smile and briefly inspected the outfit he’d chosen before leaving his own parents’ house.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Auston grinned and decided he would take that.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to the restaurant you had already known he’d had in mind when he asked you to dinner, without even needing to discuss it. The same Italian restaurant where you’d celebrated infinite birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Days, and other milestones. You fell into easy conversation during drinks and appetizers before Auston told a comical story about his teammates which led to an in that he knew he needed to take.

“They miss you, you know,” Auston stated cautiously between bites of his shrimp scampi. “Mo. Mitchy. Especially Steph.”

You folded and unfolded the seams of the cloth napkin in your lap, considering your response.

“I miss them, too,” you eventually murmured. “So be real with me. You really like it there now?” you leveled with him.

His demeanor shifted — in a good way — as he replied. “It’s honestly great. I mean, you’d love it there now, Kels. I swear,” Auston said, shaking his head in wonder. “’M not just saying that. I mean, the hype is still there, yes, but it’s not at the level it was when I first started. Mitchy and Mo and Willy and I, all us guys who kinda started out together, we’ve all sort of found our groove with the media and stuff, and for the most part, it’s great. I have a feeling it’ll just keep getting better, too.”

You watched his eyes light up as he spoke about Toronto, relief and happiness washing over you. It didn’t seem so long ago that Auston was curled up on the couch, near tears, head in your lap, feeling incapable of living up to the expectations set for him — almost buckling under the immense pressure, the likes of which he had never felt before.

You let out a teary chuckle, swiping at a teardrop on your cheek that had fallen as he answered, taking you by surprise.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that, Aus,” you told him, holding your hand over your heart as it soared within you.

Auston nodded slightly, and his lips twitched into a sad smile. “There’s still something that doesn’t feel right though,” he confessed, though it didn’t feel much like a secret. “Still something missing.”

“And what’s that?” you asked timidly as you lifted your wine glass, excited for and fearful of his answer at all once.

“You.”

Forcing yourself to swallow your merlot so you didn’t spray it across the table, you put your fist to your mouth, holding it there while you attempted to process his latest, and most brazen, admission.

“I mean… look, there have been a few others,” Auston continued with a mindless shrug. “But never anything serious, and never anyone that I’m not constantly comparing to you in every possible way,” he told you, rolling his fingertips on the table and focusing on his hand as he spoke. “Feel kinda bad actually, because I know they all thought it was something more than it really was, and then I was always the one to break things off. I didn’t purposely lead them on, I just... once I got into it, I realized my feelings just weren’t in it.”

You opened your mouth to speak, hands limp in your lap, and then closed your lips in a tight line as you mulled over his words. You inhaled a shuddering breath and looked down, feeling the same shame that had overcome you countless times before come back again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered without lifting your eyes.

“Kelsey…” Auston spoke firmly. “Look at me. Please.”

You did as he asked, lips pursed, and were met with his adoring, enchanting gaze, always too forgiving of your faults and mistakes.

“It’s okay,” he promised sincerely. “I understand. Trust me on that. I’ve always understood where you were coming from, but it seemed like there was just… just nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do to make you stay, or to bring you back. That’s what made it so hard. That’s what still makes it so hard.”

You nodded. “Well — what you’re doing right now — whatever this is… it’s working,” you divulged, knowing this was a dangerous game and no longer caring.

“Is it?” Auston asked, a full-blown smile appearing now on his lips. Those lips you missed so damn much.

“Yeah,” you giggled, both of you grinning. “God, I missed your smile, Aus.”

“My smile?” he asked incredulously, then scoffed. “Your smile fucking breaks my heart, Kelsey,” he told you in his deepest tone, biting at the inside of his cheek as if he was trying not to lean across the table and kiss you full on the mouth right then and there.

And now, as you saw that look in his eye that you knew so well, you knew two things.

One, you were fucked. And two, you were in desperate need of a minute.

“I, uh, I gotta run to the ladies’ room,” you told him, standing, feeling unsteady as you pushed in your chair. Auston nodded knowingly and said, “Take all the time you need.”

You brushed a hand over his shoulder, the other holding tightly to your crossbody bag, as you attempted to walk in a straight line toward the restrooms across the restaurant floor. You were only one glass of wine deep, yet this night was making your head feel as fuzzy as if you’d just done a row of shots. Once safely inside the bathroom, you tossed your purse on the counter and held tightly to the sink to try and settle yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to control your racing pulse.

Just then, you heard a toilet flush, and your sense of solitude was quickly shattered when you saw a familiar blonde figure step out of the bathroom and lean closer upon recognizing you.

“Kelsey!” she exclaimed, moving toward the sink.

“Holly! Oh, my god,” you laughed as you squeezed her upper arm.

“Here, let me wash my hands and then I’ll give you a real hug,” she promised as you both giggled.

You had been a cheerleader throughout high school, and Holly, a year your senior, had been captain the year before you took on the title. Though you two weren’t particularly close, you had always looked up to her, and you’d kept in touch for a couple of years after you graduated before mostly falling off, save for the occasional hype comment or story reply on social media.

“How are you, girl? You look gorgeous!” she said as she threw her arms around you.

“So do you! I’m doing well, thanks. Home for the holidays,” you offered as she stepped back and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s great! Me, too,” she replied, then smiled mischievously at you. “To be totally honest, uh… I saw you when you were being seated. I didn’t wanna be weird or like, intrude, or anything but… I saw you come in with Auston. Are you guys like… back together?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no,” you laughed nervously, feeling yourself blush under her questioning. “We’re not back together. Just, uh, just two old friends, uh, catching up, ya know?” you reasoned nonchalantly as you reached for your bag.

“Oh. Right. Well... ‘tis the damn season, am I right?” Holly said with a chuckle, her own cheeks slightly flushed as she feared maybe she had made you uncomfortable by addressing the elephant in the room.

“Right,” you nodded cordially, then took a step toward her and patted her hand, wanting to make sure she didn’t think you were upset by her comment. “It’s so good to see you, Hol. I’m gonna head back out there—“

“Kelsey, wait,” Holly said urgently, grasping your arm before you could turn away from her. You blinked at her several times, glancing between her grip and her face as you waited to hear what had gotten into her.

“I just have to tell you... for what it’s worth, you guys still look so happy together,” Holly said. “Even if that’s not what this is. I just... I wanted to tell you that. As someone who has known you both for a long time, Auston never smiles as much as he smiles when he’s with you. It’s just nice to see.”

You gaped at your old friend, speechless, and she scrunched her nose at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross the line, I just...” she trailed off.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to act casual. “No, no. Not at all. It’s okay. Thank you, for telling me. I just, I gotta run,” you said, leaning in to hug her again. “Bye, Hol. Have a merry Christmas.”

“You too, Kels. See you around,” She smiled as you moved toward the bathroom door. With one last polite nod at her, you exited and escaped to your seat.

As you reached the table, you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out and running your hand along the back of Auston’s neck and affectionately trailing your fingertips over the short hair there, as you had done for so many years when approaching him and sidling up to him. Instead, you smoothed your hand over your dress and sighed as Auston turned his head to look at you, grinning as he watched you sit.

“You get lost?” he teased. You chuckled, throwing your hair behind your shoulders.

“Something like that,” you muttered, immediately reaching for your glass of wine, which you could tell had been refilled in your absence. Auston hummed in acknowledgement as you took a long sip, watching you all the while.

“One more glass and then we get outta here?” Auston suggested as you set the glass down. You only nodded.

_____

“Remember when you had that old truck, with the tires that were always muddy, and we used to just ride around Scottsdale all night long?” you asked Auston, both of you reminiscing about days gone by after leaving the restaurant.

Auston nodded, running his pointer finger across his upper lip, the other hand on the wheel, as he watched the memory projecting in his mind.

“‘Course I do,” he told you, and you didn’t miss the way his tone changed when he did, making you smirk.

“So, where to next?” you prodded. “Back to Casa de Matthews?”

He shrugged ambiguously, but secretly, he knew just what he wanted to do. “We could just ride around. Like we used to. If you want. I mean, there’s no real reason for us to rush back to our parents’ houses, right?” he said with a snicker.

This could get messy as the mud on the truck tires, you thought, but your response was already tumbling from your lips.

“Okay,” you said, smiling at him. “I’d say let’s go drive through the rich neighborhoods and look at Christmas lights like we used to, but that’s where you and your parents live now, so...” You clicked your tongue and Auston rolled his jaw, acting completely offended to hide how much he had missed you chirping him. The way it melted him.

“We’re still going,” he insisted, turning the wheel at the next intersection and pulling a U-turn. “We’ll just, uh, we’re just gonna maybe skip a couple neighborhoods, that’s all.”

You laughed — a real Kelsey belly laugh — and Auston watched as you lit up his world yet again. He didn’t even need to see any Christmas lights this year. He had all the light he needed right next to him.

Minutes later, he passed the usual first turn on your holiday lights tour and you furrowed your brow.

“Aus, where are you going? I wanted to see Ranchero Nuevo first. We always start there,” you reminded him.

“No, what’s the actual first thing we do when we go see Christmas lights?” Auston asked, pulling instead toward the strip mall at the next light. When you saw the green glow of the Starbucks sign up ahead, you smiled as it dawned on you.

“Get hot chocolate,” you said fondly. Instead of answering, Auston simply sent a soft smile your way. “You’re the greatest,” you lauded, igniting a pride that burned bright in Auston’s chest.

“Anything for you, babe,” he said before he could even realize what he’d just done. He snapped his head your way and saw that you were trying your damnedest not to smile.

He was completely taken aback as you quipped, “You can call me babe for the weekend.”

Auston did a double-take and then nodded once at your phone in your hands, which had just lit up with two missed calls and a particularly accusatory text from one Alex Matthews that you decided you would have to tend to later.

“Write this down,” Auston instructed curtly.

“What do you mean?” you laughed, holding your phone up curiously.

“I want proof that you just said that to me,” he deadpanned, jutting his chin toward your glowing screen and sending you into a fit of laughter.

After you’d both recovered, Auston picked up your drink — large peppermint hot chocolate, like always — and a coffee for himself, and you set off to wind your way through the same neighborhoods you had driven through countless times, admiring most of the decorations and poking fun at the gaudiness of some, laughing all the while, without a care.

As he pulled into a neighborhood you knew to be just a stone’s throw away from where he had recently purchased a house, Auston took a deep breath, fingers gripping the steering wheel rigidly, and decided to take the leap and say what had been circling through his brain since you’d stepped foot in the vehicle after dinner but had only just now worked up the nerve to say.

“What if we didn’t go back to our parents’ places tonight?” he asked abruptly, the words sounding much more jumbled and rushed than they had in his head.

You chuckled anxiously, staring straight ahead. “What do you mean?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pressed on. “Hear me out. What if we just went to my place for the night instead? I don’t mean to like… to hook up, or anything,” he assured. “Just to be together. I just… I really fucking missed you.”

Uh, whoops. He hadn’t exactly meant to slip that last part in there, but it was too late to turn back now.

There was a lengthy pause and the car was frighteningly silent as you weighed your options.

“Well...” you eventually said, nibbling on your bottom lip. “If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.”

“Yeah?” Auston asked immediately, searching your face for confirmation that he had just heard you correctly. He couldn’t believe that this — any of this— was really happening.

You nodded.

“Yeah. And… Aus?” you spoke.

“Yes, Kelsey?” he asked softly, joy radiating from his whole being and seeping into his words.

You leaned your head back against the seat and reached to wrap your hand around his on the center console.

“I really fucking missed you, too,” you told him.

_____

“Why did you agree to come with me tonight anyway, Kelsey?”

You and Auston were each almost a full bottle of wine deep by the time he asked this, inhibitions now lowered. He’d barely finished giving you the tour before you were both so palpably overwhelmed by the reality of being alone together in his house, with so many feelings buzzing about frenetically, that you took the liberty of pulling a bottle of red from the wine fridge and asking for glasses and a corkscrew. Auston forked them over without question, and now you were deeply entrenched in the process of examining old battle wounds that had never quite healed.

“Because I missed you,” you answered truthfully. “And also because I owed it to you to accept your invitation when you took a chance by reaching out.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Kels,” he claimed, taking a swig.

You picked up your glass and passed by him as you began to pace the tile floor, unable to just be still during this exchange — this conversation that had been a long time coming.

“I do, though,” you argued. “You gave me everything. Everything. And I still left.”

Auston squeezed the stem of his wine glass so hard he feared he may just shatter it.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for the things I put you through because of my career choice,” he said firmly, a hand splayed against his chest as he accepted the responsibility, just like he always did.

“But you didn’t choose to have the media posted up outside our apartment every day. You didn’t choose to have strangers stalking me and my family online. You didn’t choose to have them calling me a distraction and a leech and a gold digger and a wh—“

“Don’t say it,” he warned as he lifted a finger, referencing the specific instance of the smearing of your character that had left you broken enough to start packing your bags.

“Okay,” you conceded quietly, knowing just how sick that one word had made him. “But listen. Yes, you chose to play hockey. But you didn’t choose all that shit that came along with it. You didn’t know! Hell, you didn’t even get to choose where you played. But even so… honestly, I used to blame you for everything. Because back then, it was just easier for me to deal with it that way.”

Auston’s head hung between his shoulder blades as he leaned his palms against the bar, reliving the very same pain that had eaten away at him for the past three years, especially the acute ache that had come in the weeks immediately after you left.

“I know you did — blame me, that is,” he said softly. “And I understand why.”

You took slow and deliberate steps back to where he stood and rubbed your hand soothingly across his broad back, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“Hey… look at me, huh?” you asked, gently guiding his face toward yours with your fingers. “I don’t blame you, Aus. I don’t,” you assured, your eyes piercing into his. “Not anymore. I’ve grown. I know I did this. I know it’s my fault that we’re like this. I mean, fuck, I broke my own heart, and I know I hurt you. I just... at the time, I didn’t see a way forward on the road we were on.”

Auston’s mind was firing on all cylinders as he tried desperately to compute what he’d just heard, convinced he was gathering more from your words than you meant for him to.

“And now?” he ventured.

He watched as your pained expression turned to one of, dare he even think it, hope.

“I still see it, Aus,” you said. “I still see us ending up together. I know it’s out of the blue, but…”

“It’s not though,” he said, cocking his head a bit to punctuate his point. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, any of this, but… to me, it’s not out of the blue. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he told you. “And I just need you to know that. Regardless of what happens next.”

“Auston, you and me together… that’s the only thing that makes sense. That’s all that’s ever made sense to me,” you said, clarity washing over you. “But I just, I wasn’t ready. And I got so scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle your life that I… I just ran.”

“You can run, Kelsey,” Auston said softly as he, yet again, twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “But only so far.”

“Yeah…” you whispered. Then, without hesitation, you grasped his chin between your forefinger and thumb, turning his face to yours and studying his brown eyes just for a heartbeat before pressing your lips to his.

And for now, that was all that needed to be said.

_____

You hadn’t slept together. But you had slept together.

Too much crying and laughing and kissing and rehashing and wondering aloud had left you both emotionally drained and physically exhausted, and after dragging yourself into the master bathroom to throw on a crewneck and a pair of Auston’s sweats, you’d promptly fallen asleep in his arms, a smile on his features even in sleep.

The next morning it occurred to you, with your cheek pressed against his bare chest and your legs entangled with his, that Auston’s bed — whether here, or in the house where he grew up, or in Toronto — was the warmest one you’d ever known. Though you could tell by the sunlight flooding the room that it was late in the morning, you couldn’t bear to move away from him.

Soon, he, too, began to stir. As he squinted in the daylight and peered down at you, he closed his eyes once more, a peaceful grin on his lips.

“Oh, thank god that wasn’t just a dream,” he whispered. You chuckled, your fingertips lazily drawing shapes on his pecs as you nuzzled your head further into his neck.

“Nope,” you established. “This is very, very real.”

You lay in quiet thought for a moment before adding softly, “But what happens now?”

At that, Auston’s eyes opened wider this time, a slight panic visible in his face.

“Well,” he began, smoothing his hand over your head and kissing your hair. “What happens now is that we get some coffee.”

You sighed at his attempt to make light of the situation and pushed yourself to sit straight up in bed, cross-legged in front of where he lay on his side.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you spoke, your fingers pulling anxiously at the bedsheet below. “Yesterday was like a fever dream and now... now we have to face reality.”

Slowly, Auston sat up, too, and pulled you into his lap, allowing you to rest your back against his torso as he gathered your hair at the nape of your neck in a makeshift ponytail.

“Everything that happened yesterday was reality, baby,” he insisted, kissing the crown of your head.

“Our feelings, yes,” you allowed. “But not the rest of it. I mean, fuck, we’re both leaving town in —“ you glanced at the bedside clock and were shocked by the 11:27 that stared back at you, realizing you’d practically slept in half the day — “48 hours. And then what? I go back to LA and you go back to Toronto and we just wonder about—“

“Baby, stop,” Auston begged as he turned you to face him, bringing your forehead to his lips. “Take a breath,” he said, stroking your jaw with his thumbs as he looked down at you, concern etched into his features. “We don’t have to figure all this out right this minute. In fact, we’re not going to. For right now, let’s just let this be what it is. And you have to try and stop spinning your wheels so fast. You’re gonna burn a hole in my floor,” he joked, kissing your nose.

You chuckled sadly, holding his wrists. “You’re right,” you eventually told him. “We’ll figure it out, somehow. I know we will,” you sighed, frowning. “First things first though, I have to get home and help my mom get ready for the party tonight.”

Before you could get out of bed to start gathering your things, Auston circled his arms around your hips and kept you in his lap. “Wait, gimme a smile first,” he requested.

You looked up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile, still distracted by the future of your relationship teetering precariously in the balance.

Auston shook his head. “That’s a fake Kelsey smile,” he accused, accurately. “Don’t even try me.”

With another deep sigh, you muttered, “You’re the only soul who can tell.”

“Who can tell what?” he asked, hugging you tighter.

You looked up at him for a moment, feeling more seen than you had in years. “Which smiles I’m faking,” you said quietly.

A pleased smile twitched at the corners of Auston’s lips before he pressed his mouth to yours.

_____

Auston walked into your parents’ house that night with his understated charm and a devastating ensemble of a maroon suit, white shirt with the top few buttons undone, and black loafers, looking every bit the GQ model he was once upon a time. With two bouquets of red roses and a bottle of champagne in hand, he knocked on the glass and your dad met him enthusiastically at the door.

“What’s the occasion?” your dad then chuckled, a bit puzzled. Auston glanced to where you stood near the staircase, waiting to greet him, and smiled.

“These are for your daughter,” Auston said as he grasped one bouquet. “And these are for your wife,” he said as he gestured toward the other. Your dad raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of you pensively, and let out a loud laugh. “Well, how thoughtful! And the champagne?” your dad asked as Auston stepped toward you and tucked one bunch of roses into your hold. He kissed your cheek chastely and turned back to your dad.

“Well, you never know when you’re gonna have something to celebrate,” Auston said with a smirk. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and your dad clapped Auston’s back appreciatively before leaving the two of you to your moment.

“Thank you, for the flowers,” you said softly, staring up at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a nod before your aunt and uncle suddenly appeared in the doorway, loudly greeting you and pushing their way toward you for hugs as Auston gave them their space and waited for you to become available again.

His patience lasted all of five minutes as he made vague pleasantries with the handful of guests who had already arrived, before he was approaching you again, eager to do what he really came here to do and unable to wait a moment longer. As you turned away from a brief conversation with a longtime next-door neighbor, Auston gently grasped your wrist as he said hastily, “Can I see you outside for a second?”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he led you hurriedly through the formal living room and out the French doors to the balcony, closing them behind you and backing you into a corner, hidden from view.

“Aus, what are you—“

He pressed his body into yours, nudging you back against the rail as he took your face in his hands and kissed you hungrily.

“Doing,” you whispered when he let up, completing your earlier thought as you pressed your fingertips against your swollen lips and looked up at him, your cheeks reddening.

“That,” he answered simply with a small smile. “And I wanted to give you something...”

He patted his pockets to determine where the object was, and your eyes widened.

“Auston, no!” you exclaimed, squeezing his elbows in an attempt to stop his search. “You can’t. I didn’t get you anything. I —”

“Kelsey, are you crazy? Yes, you did,” he said firmly. “Time with you. You gave me time with you. That’s all I’ve wanted for the last three years. That’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

There was nothing you could say then, nothing that sounded worthy enough to hold any significance in such an already meaningful vignette of the two of you. Auston took your silence as his opportunity to pull a mid-sized, square, red leather box from the pocket of his suit jacket, the name “Cartier” imprinted in gold script on the lid.

“Auston, stop,” you warned in a whisper, knowing what was inside and knowing that you would be rendered completely incapable of walking away from him once he offered this gift to you, knowing what it signified for both of you. He shook his head, knowing that your request was an empty one. He propped open the box and placed it on the small wrought iron table in front of you on the balcony. You couldn’t peel your eyes from it as your mind raced with questions.

“How... where... we slept until noon, Aus,” you stuttered. “All the stores were closed. Where did you even buy this?”

He pursed his lips and nodded once, then put his hands into his pockets and admitted, “I’ve had it for almost three years, Kels.”

You blinked again and again, not processing what he’d just revealed.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“I bought this for you for Valentine’s Day three years ago,” he continued. “I bought it and I hid it in my closet and I was gonna give it to you but we broke up on —“

“January 30th...” you whispered. Auston’s brows knit together in agony, and his throat constricted.

“You remember too,” he stated quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember a little too well,” you said, sniffling as you glanced down at the box again.

Suddenly, your mind drifted back not to that fateful day in his apartment in Toronto, but instead to lying on your stomach as a kid in your family room, flipping through the pages of your favorite issue of your mom’s old Vogue magazines, as Auston used a yardstick and a Nerf ball as makeshift hockey equipment, taking shots at your couch again and again while you soaked in the photos of beautiful models, trendy clothing, and expensive jewelry, as visions of working at a fashion magazine someday twirled through your daydreams.

“Whatcha readin’?” a ten-year-old Auston inquired as he dropped next to you to take a break from his game.

“Vogue,” you answered, turning another page. “Like usual.”

Auston nodded, spotting a pretty woman in a tight black dress and commented, “Cool,” with a laugh. “If you could have anything in that book, what would you pick?”

Ever the master of sass, you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a magazine, Aus,” you corrected with venom in your voice as Auston rolled his own eyes. “But, if I had to pick... I know just what I want,” you informed him, leafing through the issue to get back to an ad in the front. When you finally found what you were seeking, you plopped the magazine down again, smacking your hand onto its glossy pages.

“That,” you said, pointing to the gold bangle. “It’s called the Love Bracelet. It says that it gets bought by somebody you love and then they have to use a screwdriver to put it on you.”

“A screwdriver?!” Auston asked incredulously. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

You giggled. “No, silly,” you drawled. “It doesn’t hurt. But then the person who loves you is the only one who can put it on you or take it off you. You can’t do it by yourself.”

Auston nodded. “Cool,” he repeated, more seriously this time. You sighed wistfully as you gazed down at the bracelet.

“Yeah, but it’s a whole bunch of money, and my dad said he isn’t buying it. He said maybe my husband will get me one someday,” you said sadly. Auston watched your face drop, then, he got an idea.

“How about this,” he offered, nudging you with his elbow. “If I get famous for playing baseball, or hockey I guess, and I make a boatload of money, then I’ll buy you that bracelet. ‘Kay?”

You blushed, hunching your shoulders as you were slightly embarrassed by your best friend’s offer. Still, you loved Auston, and you knew he loved you. He was the only person you wanted to get that bracelet from, except for like, your mom or dad.

“Okay,” you agreed. “You promise?”

Auston dragged his index finger over the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart,” he confirmed.

This time, it was your turn to say, “Cool.”

“I asked my mom to hold onto it,” you heard him telling you now. Now that you’d become the people you’d said you’d be. Now that you both had grown into the farfetched dreams you’d shared as children. Now that you’d come back home — back to one another. Now that he was here, in front of you, again. “I just couldn’t bear to take it back, even though I honestly never thought I’d get the chance to give it to you.”

You were shaking your head endlessly, attempting to stop tears from streaking your face. “I can’t believe this...” you said, awestruck.

“I don’t have to put this on you right now,” Auston said, swallowing his own tears he felt creeping up on him. “I just want you to have it. It’s yours. You should keep it.”

With a few swipes at your undereyes, you rubbed away the wetness on your hands and then extended your left wrist to Auston. A smile flashed briefly across his lips before he set them in a straight line once more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, caution in his voice.

You pulled him in by his waist, beaming, before you answered.

“I’ve played this out basically every night since I left,” you told him. “Even when I was with somebody. I just followed the path my mind was taking me all the way to the very end, until there was no place left to go. And it always leads to you. It always leads me home.”

Auston pulled you into a searing kiss, both of you smiling into it, before he squeezed your hand and reached for the box, carefully disassembling the bracelet so that he could put it on you at last.

“All day I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier. About running,” you spoke as Auston worked on securing the bracelet. “I started running and running and it’s been such a mess since then. Nothing about the past three years made any sense to me. And then I saw you, and… it all made sense again. You and I were the only thing that ever made sense to me,” you told him, your voice wavering as he twisted the final screw into place, lifting the inside of your wrist to his lips and placing a warm, reverent kiss to the skin there, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. “So I’m done. I’m done running, Auston. I can’t run anymore.”

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Auston admitted, touching his forehead to yours before leaning back. “So, to your earlier point... what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

You ran a frazzled hand through your long hair and bit at the inside of your cheek as you formulated your response. “I mean, I have to go back, Aus. I’m working on a really big project...”

Your words put him into a tailspin of his own this time, watching the dreams he had let resurface over the last two days come crashing down in front of him all over again. You were eluding him. Again.

His ears were buzzing so loudly that he barely heard your next words.

“But maybe after that... I could come and spend some time in Toronto?”

Auston pulled his tongue away from the roof of his dry mouth and pleaded, in a voice barely above a whisper, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t say that unless you really mean it,” he said, desperation in his tone.

“I mean, really, I don’t have a choice,” you pointed out with a breathy laugh, your fingers tracing the cold metal of the bangle around your other wrist. “I don’t see any other way that this ends. Not after this. This perfect fucking weekend. I mean... do you?”

“No,” he quickly retorted. “No, I don’t. I was just scared that you... that this was going to be it for you. That we would have this incredible time together and then it would just be another chapter in the Auston and Kelsey history book.”

You smoothed your hands over his lapels, allowing your body to fully relax into his.

“Auston, this... this is different,” you said somberly. “Before, it all just felt like too much. I got scared. We were so young, Aus. I mean, we’re still young, but we were babies. And now... I’ve realized that dealing with the press and the social media and the fans... it’s worth it to me. I’ll never like it. But I love you. And that’s enough. That will always be more than enough for me — being with you. And I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long, that it took me finally coming back home, to realize that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Kels, please,” Auston whispered, one hand clutching at your hip, the other tangled in the hair at the back of your head as he held onto you with everything he had, knowing he was ready to do so for as long as you would let him. “Just... just say it again, baby. Please?”

“I love you, Aus,” you whispered, tears falling freely down your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m never gonna stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Auston pleaded, nuzzling his nose against yours before pressing his lips to your mouth. “Don’t ever stop. Promise?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Cross my heart,” you whispered, drawing a pretend line across your chest before cupping his cheek and kissing him tenderly.

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totopopopo · 3 years

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honestly as a college freshman who's nervous abt dorms thank you for making that post abt laundry, and do you have any other advice?

Hi anon!!!!!

First of all, welcome to college!!!!! I know dorm life is.. uh, daunting, and I don’t envy you lot having to learn how to do it with a pandemic. Here’s a rundown of things I’ve learned from dorm living over the years (I had a roommate as a freshman but have had a single since then, and this year is the second year I’ve had a dog; I’ve lived in a closet converted into a room, I’ve lived in a massive luxury room, I’ve lived in a party house, I’ve lived in a quiet house, I’ve lived pre pandemic and post pandemic, I’ve had amazing neighbors and horrendous neighbors—I’ve done just about every college dorm living situation possible so I’ve picked up a few things):

I know you already saw my laundry post but I literally cannot stress that shit enough so it bears repeating. DONT LEAVE YOUR LAUNDRY FOREVER it’s super rude. In the same vein, don’t be afraid to move other people’s laundry if they’re being rude.

If there’s a communal kitchen, utilize it, but keep a few things in mind! 1. Hand wash everything, even if there’s a dishwasher (who knows whether the rest of that stuff is clean or dirty, and anyways, people WILL steal your forks). Also, wash the pots and pans you use right after you use them!! Don’t leave them for the next person, that’s super rude for one thing, and for another thing, do you know what happens when a bunch of 17-23 year olds leave their gross college cooking shit out and unwashed?? Rats. Rats happen. CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELF. also I would advise washing the pots and pans you plan on using beforehand too, cause a good rule of thumb is do not trust the other people to not be gross people.

Bathrooms! Bathrooms are like, probably the worst part of dorm life for me? Just. I don’t like public showers. Gross. BUT it’s really okay and you shouldn’t stress abt it! Just wear like flip flops or something into the shower, remember to clean up after yourself, PLEASE for the love of god don’t make soup in the bathroom sink or I will personally hunt you down (like I said. I’ve seen it all). This is something that probably doesn’t have to be said but I’ll say it anyways just cause yeah, I’ve seen it all: if you REALLY want to have shower sex, don’t do it during busy bathroom hours (aka mornings afternoons evenings). If you HAVE to, do it at like 3am. That being said, PLEASE don’t do it, those are communal showers, other people also have to use them, for the love of god montressor. But if you do. Be mindful of others. Also an important bathroom note: nobody gives a shit about what you are doing as long as it isn’t affecting others. I feel like freshmen are really self conscious about, like, brushing their teeth or shitting or whatever, but I am here to promise you that literally nobody cares or really even notices. As long as you’re not shitting on the floor (please don’t, I’ve seen it happen) or sticking your bloody pads on the stall door / leaving bloody tampons on the sink (I’ve seen that too) you literally have nothing to worry about or be ashamed of, you’re TOTALLY good to go, please don’t worry! However if you are doing those things you should absolutely be ashamed and furthermore your floor mates are legally allowed to murder you.

Your walls are thinner than you think. Try not to randomly scream bloody murder (please) or loudly shit talk your neighbors.

If you have a roommate, you should ALWAYS have headphones. Stop listening to music or scrolling through idk tik tok or whatever with the volume just from your phone RIGHT NOW. it’s so fucking obnoxious. Use headphones. PLEASE use headphones. Same goes for FaceTiming, zooming, Netflix, etc etc etc. headphones. You might also wanna invest in noise canceling headphones in case your roommate didn’t get the memo

Fairy lights are cute and fun and make the room nice, but turn them off after a certain time if you have a roommate, unless they specifically ask you to keep them on!

Invest in a mini-fridge invest in a mini-fridge invest in a mini-fridge invest in a mini-fridge invest in a mini-fridge invest in a mini-fridge

Invest in fans. Invest in lamps.

Steal food from the dining halls

Don’t steal silverware from the dining halls

If you steal silverware from the dining halls, please return them

If there’s a group chat with other people on your floor, in your house, join it!!! Even if you have to mute notifications, it’s really good if you have questions for other people in the house (aka “do you know where the vacuum cleaner on the first floor went” or “who was just screaming bloody murder at 10am on a Tuesday” or “does anyone want to order takeout and split the bill w me” all of which are very good texts to send) and just to stay updated on shit in the house (aka receiving texts like “hey guys on the second floor just a warning don’t go into the bathroom there’s currently a lot of chicken noodle soup filling up one of the sinks use the downstairs bathroom” which is a bad text to receive but a good one to be aware of)

If someone else in your house has a pet, befriend that person.

I know I’ve said several different versions of this, but like, PLEASE clean up after yourself. In your room, in the bathroom, in the kitchen, in the hallway, in the laundry room, everywhere. Clean up after yourself. Don’t make other people do it. Just, seriously. Be respectful of the people around you.

I could go on, but that’s a lot already. I know this is a fucking weird transition, but you’ve got this, and I’m rooting for you. It’s gonna be okay; it’s gonna be fun. I promise. And if you have any other specific questions or worries or concerns—about dorm living, about academics, about surviving your first year, about anything, even just to talk it out—I’m always here! I suffered and learned the hard way so you don’t have to!!!! I’m happy to be here as a resource and a friend for you here!!! Good luck!! :-)

#fucking college tips!

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jujyfru1t · 2 years

Text

Fandom Snowflake Challenge #5:Talk About an Idea

(Crossposted from Dreamwidth)

sorry for sporadic @'ing... @snowflakechallenge

I couldn't just talk about one idea asffhgjhjhjh Oof. For starters there is A LOT of fanart I'd like to draw, but I have no drawing skills and keep forgetting to... figure out how to learn? idk, I've worked in words for so long my brain just short-circuits when even thinking about how to art. Perspective? Shading? How do i even get there, never mind past stick figures??? I have, however, kept a lil word doc of very detailed descriptions of fanart I'd like to draw, once I had that brilliant idea several years ago. :D (none of it's smutty yet hkhjkhjkhk let me do basic stuff first) In the same vein-- so many GMV/AMV ideas, so little time. but mainly, knowledge of where to get clips as, um, safely as possible. I have basic editing software that is just fine so that's good and this lil thingie called realdownloader, from realplayer, that i'm praying will still work now that I've invoked its name, to grab youtube game cinematics from. uh... wanna see my dumb AMVs? I have a Youtube.... (2 dumb Furubas that got slammed I have on my google drive~) okay okay okay but here's a few concrete ideas. I'd really like to do a shipweek for KyoxTohruxYuki, and by ship I mean platonic and romantic options bc I still think it's a sailboat. this one's mainly an energy problem, bc when I think of coming up with prompts and getting the word out on multiple platforms and maybe getting someone to do graphics i just wanna crawl under my desk afdfghgfhfghfhf and this and the next one are still waiting in the wings.... fun fact I'm an inveterate one-shot writer (though I did mange a multichap request fic whuuuuut). I want to write multichapters? I just... rarely get plotbunnies that are plotty enough, or I feel I can make plotty enough. would love to figure out how to get better at it-- anyway. 2 multichaps I want to write enentually but again, time and energy. Both Fruits Basket, both Yukyoru.

The first one is based off a manga called Kanako's Life As An Assassin-- unnecessary note here, but in looking for info to write this post I thought i only reblogged it to tumblr and could never find it again, then remembered I linked to the original post in my YTK plotbunny file BECAUSE i'M A FRICKING GENIUS, THANK GOD. ANYWAY!!! Yes, so, Tohru's a novice assassin ala this comic, Yuki's her bodyguard, and she starts to fall for Kyo, her latest target. ....that is literally all i have so far. gotta think up backstories and everything else, and not make Yukyo's past/secret connection handwavy, and they all end up together because DUH (oh flipping NO now i want a Red Notice AU!!! *screeches*) The other potential multichap I have as a magical girl AU. More Madoka than Sailor Moon but idk maybe both idfk. the main plotbunny i have is Tohru rescuing magical boys Yun and Kyon. also, a showdown with Akito wwho still gets redeemed. but. idk if the Yukyoru will be established or developing or anything else about the plot. yet, somehow, I have a playlist that's also a WIP-- beginning and end, and some disparate scenes. so... allll of this is stuff I want to Eventually Do. I think I can, i just... dunno when. or how complicated any of them might be. and oh shoot uh thanks for reading my blatherings! if you do!! I appreciate it very much!!!

#snowflakechallenge2022 #Fruits Basket #Furuba #Yukyoru

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allthingskakashi · 4 years

Note

Hi! Coul a request a scenario that involves Sukea please? Like the reader has a crush on Kakashi and he finds out because her friends tease her in front of sukea and then Kakashi asks her on a date idk if I’m making a point, or can just do anything you wish that involves him pleasee? Thank you ♥️

Okay first of all, that's a really innovative idea!! I loved it. Secondly, I'm sorry it took me so long to get to this but ahh well here it is now and i really hope you like it ❤️

• Serendipity •

[Kakashi x Reader] || 3k words

a/n : ugh tbh I've been running a little low on creativity lately which is why i hadn't posted anything for like a week but i also didn't wanna go without writing anything so well... I tried. 😩

You sit in the small dumpling restaurant with your friends Kurenai and Anko. Beyond you, the falling dusk envelopes your village in mystical hues of blue and red. It’s Friday, which means the weekend has rolled in after a long and tiresome week. The thought of being off duty for the next two days lifts your spirits, and you look forward to spending the time relaxing at home in your own company.

The evening is busy, streets bustling, vibrant with the hustle of villagers; some heading for a night out with friends, some returning home to spend time with family, some getting ready to go out on a date, everyone looking like they have somewhere to be, something to do.

You sigh, shoving a dumpling in your mouth.

“Why the long face?”, Anko asks between chomps.

“It’s nothing” you shrug, your tone failing to fool anyone.

There’s a soft creak as the gate to the shop opens behind you, a small gust of air whooshing in from outside. The merry chatter in the room comes to a sudden halt, to be replaced by sounds of hushed murmurs and whispers. You glance at the group of women sitting in the table ahead of you, staring at something with mouths open wide in awe. Ahead of you, Anko’s eyebrows are furrowed, a curious smile touching the corner of her lip.

You turn behind, wanting to catch a glimpse of whatever it is that has managed to elicit such a response from the entire room.

Your eyes fall upon a handsome young man, who has just now walked into the restaurant and taken a seat behind you. You feel your heart skip a beat. He’s easily one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. A mop of thick brown hair adorns his head, a tint of purple on his eyelids and stripes of the same colour running across both cheeks. His face is sharp with an angled jawline and he has on a long trench coat with a scarf around his neck. He’s also holding a camera, you notice.

Probably an outsider.

A waitress walks over to him, standing by him and twirling a curl of hair, visibly enchanted by his charms.

Someone thumps the front of your table, startling you. “Jeez y/n, get a grip!” Anko’s voice brings your attention back to your friends as you finally tear your eyes away from the mysterious man in the table behind you.

“What? I wasn’t checking him out” you sputter, unnerved.

“We didn’t say you were”, Kurenai chimes in.

You feel your face getting hot as red tinges your cheeks and you look away, avoiding your friends’ eyes.

“Hey, why don’t you go talk to him? Maybe ask him out?” Kurenai says, her eyes lighting up.

You open your mouth to say something, but Anko cuts in.

“Because she’d rather sit around pining for Kakashi and doodling his name on her diary. How long has it been now? 7 years?”

Kurenai giggles, but puts a comforting arm around your shoulder.

“Alright now, go easy on her”, she says kindly. “But she’s got a point y/n. You and Kakashi have known each other for a long time. You’ve kept your feelings to yourself for years now, I really think it’s time you go out and do something about it. Who knows, maybe he feels the same way about you. Why don’t you give it a shot?”

You let out another sigh and look at your lap. “I just don’t think it’s the right time yet.”

But that was a lie. You’d had feelings for Kakashi ever since you were a teenager. You had always been friends, but you wanted more. You loved being in his company and you had a lot of mutual respect and admiration for each other. But you could never bring yourself to just say the words to Kakashi. There were times when you almost blurted it out, and times when you felt like maybe he felt the same way about you too… but they may have been delusions, for all you knew. You didn’t know anything for certain. And that’s what stopped you from gathering up the courage to say it to him. You told yourself and your friends who knew that you would someday, when the time is right, but it was all a big fat lie. You were scared, and that was the truth, as much as you hated to admit it.

You watch Anko roll her eyes as Kurenai exhales, tilting her head.

“Y/n…It’ll never be the right time. Just do it. You’ve taken down S-rank criminals, you can handle this. Trust me, even the copy ninja can’t resist THAT” Kurenai cheers, grazing her eyes up and down over you with a suggestive smile, her voice encouraging. You chuckle, waving your hand dismissively in embarrassment.

“Look”, Anko interjects in her matter-of-fact voice. “Kakashi’s a wuss. If you wanna get it on with him, you gotta make the move. He’s even worse than you so pussy up and ask him. If I have to hear another of your lovelorn sighs one more time, I’ll go tell him myself.” She says, shoving her last dumpling in her mouth and gulping down a glass of water.

You’d been friends with Anko long enough to know not to put it past her. Besides, they were right. It HAD been very long. Perhaps you really did need to pussy up.

Ughhhhh. Why couldn’t this be easier?

“Anyway, I’m gonna go hit the bar. Any of you suckers wanna join me?” Anko asks, getting up from her chair.

“I can’t. I invited my team over for dinner tonight so I’ll get going.”, Kurenai says, collecting her purse and getting ready to leave as well.

“It’s okay, you guys go. I’ve got some things to do” you say, waving them off.

You watch your friends go out the exit and disappear along the curve of the street. Truth is, you kind of want to be alone, maybe take a walk around the village, gather your thoughts. This conversation with your friends today stirred something in you and you need time to think. You’d let things go on as they were for very long now, but it was time you took matters in your own hands.

Putting the bill down on the table, you head towards the door. Your eyes fall where the man was sitting but the seat is empty now, and you catch him ahead of you, just a few steps away, also heading towards the door. You stand close behind him, clutching your purse to your rib as he opens the door. His elbow juts out, knocking the bag out of your hand as it falls to the ground.

For a quick second you think it’s a thief and you’re almost about to strike a blow but the man crouches down quickly with an “I’m so sorry”, picking your purse up and holding it out to you.

Up close this way, you can see his eyes. There’s something familiar about them but you can’t put your finger on what it is. “Thanks” you mutter, taking the purse from him, your mind still trying to comprehend why this man you’ve never seen before feels so familiar.

“Are you a tourist? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before”, you ask, concealing the suspicion in your tone.

Your village is a small one and almost every face is familiar. Having a visitor in the village is quite unheard of and your instincts tell you that something feels off.

He clears his throat before answering. “Hi, I’m Sukea. I’m a reporter from the Land of Fire. I’m here to conduct research for an article” the man replies, almost in an automated tone but with a smile that immediately softens his features. He’s got a mole under his bottom lip, you notice.

Gosh, that’s a pretty face.

Before you have the chance to say anything else or ask more questions, he mumbles that he’s getting late for something and turns away, hurrying down the street.

You stand there, watching him go.

Weird.

But you’ve got other things to think about now, decisions to make, so you shake the thoughts of this mystery man off your head, although you can’t help mulling over why he felt so eerily familiar.

You walk down your usual route in the quieter part of the village. Walks always somehow help you clear your mind. The air has cooled down now and there’s a slight chill in the air. A sweet smell of flowers wafts through. You lose track of time walking around the entire village, over the cliff, through the forests, by the stream which shimmers under the moonlight.

It’s almost ten by the time you reach home and the walk makes your calves ache. Probably wasn’t such a good idea to go on such a long walk after injuring yourself on your last mission.

You freshen up and throw yourself down on your bed, glad for the two days of rest that awaits you.

Pulling the blanket over your head, you turn to your side and close your eyes. Kakashi’s face appears almost instantly, the images playing a montage in your head.

His smile that makes buds bloom into flowers… his laughter so pure like a young boy’s…his silver hair which sparkles in the sun, making you want to run your fingers through it… the warmth of his voice when he talks to you-- and suddenly something goes off in your brain. Like a flame igniting. Or rather, a long burning flame finally receiving emancipation. There’s a jolt through your veins and you think—Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow.

And before you have time to process the sudden thought, languor takes over your body, lulling you to sleep.

You’re up early the next morning, the jolt from last night still coursing through your veins. You’re feeling pretty confident, more than you ever have. Today’s the day you tell him.

But first, you have to head over to the Missions Desk to submit your report. You bash yourself for putting it off till now.

The day outside is beautiful, white cotton clouds floating aimlessly across the azure sky. A pleasant breeze tickles your skin in soft whispers.

You reach the main office and submit your file. The room is empty, except for the people working behind the desks. The man in front of you takes your file, checking the date of your mission and you’re sure you can see a look of judgement flash across his eyes.

You almost feel a little guilty.

“You know, all the other jounins have submitted their reports already” he mutters, not looking up from your file.

“Well actually…”

There’s a voice behind you, and you turn around at the sheepish tone of the familiar voice. Your heart instantly paces up. Kakashi. There’s a file in his hand too. You can’t help the smile that escapes.

You look at him as he comes forward, handing his file over. The man shoots him a similar glance and shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything. You can tell that this must not be the first time. Kakashi smiles sweetly at him, before turning away and looking at you.

“Y/n! Didn’t think I’d run into you here…”

Your blood pounds in your ears as you recall the resolve you made to yourself last night. You’d promised yourself you’d tell him today but right now, in this way? You weren’t ready for this. You hadn’t prepared what you were gonna say, or how you’d say it. A hundred thoughts run through your head.

Hell with my resolve. This really isn’t the right time. I can’t do this.

But on the other hand…

Your brain goes at odds with your heart as you realise you haven’t answered Kakashi yet.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice concerned.

You straighten up, composing yourself.

“Oh hey yeah, I’m fine! I’m great. What’re you upto?”

“Just got a few things I need to do”, he shrugs, walking beside you as the two of you come out of the office into the main corridor of the Hokage Mansion.

“Right. Got any missions this weekend?” you ask, stalling to give yourself time to think clearly.

“Nope. You?”

“No. You?”

“You already asked me”, he chuckles. “So uh. Where are you headed?”

Ugh. This is a disaster.

“Just the market. I… I need to buy fish for dinner”

You feel your palms getting clammy as the air starts to feels too tight. You look at Kakashi out of the corner of your eye and you notice.

He looks nervous too. He’s fidgeting with his hands and there’s something strange about him.

“Well…uh” he stutters, rubbing his neck with his hand before looking at you. “maybe you don’t.”

You look up at him, your eyes wide and face scrunched up in confusion. You’re outside the tower now, standing on the street.

“I…don’t?”

He scratches the back of his head.

“Uh…I mean…I’ve got fish.”, he stammers. There’s a very visible tint of red on his cheeks.

You’re utterly wrapped in confusion by now, and you wonder why he’s acting so strange. Unsure of where he’s getting with that, you say, “Um…That’s nice. Where do you buy fish from? I’ve heard the market by the Temple is good for seafood. I haven’t had the chance to try it out myself though.”

Mother Earth please swallow me whole.

Kakashi lets out a nervous laugh, still fidgeting around with his hands and looking everywhere but directly at you.

“Y/n what I’m saying is…maybe you don’t need to buy fish for dinner because” he looks at you from under his shaggy bangs,which fall over his eyes in the absence of his headband. The tint of his cheeks deepens. “well, because I was thinking maybe you could come over…and I could…cook dinner for the both of us...? Or um go out, whatever you’d like” he says, immediately looking away.

You’d never thought it was possible for the calm and cocky Kakashi Hatake to look this nervous. It’s quite a sight. You might have laughed at it if you weren’t just as nervous yourself.

“Like on a date?” you ask, shock evident in your tone. Your heart is battering in your chest.

This is a very, very surprising turn of events.

“Well…yes”, he breathes, barely meeting your eyes now.

You can hear your heart in your ears. And suddenly, it feels like spring has bloomed inside your heart. Not just your heart but everywhere around you. Like you’ve been transported to a meadow and there’s only flowers and rainbows and butterflies all around.

A breeze passes through, sending a few petals from nearby trees floating along the street. Strands of your hair blow into your eyes.

You sweep them away, looking up at him to see him looking at you, his eyes hopeful, waiting.

You meet his gaze with your burning eyes and smile, tucking another loose strand behind your ear.

“I’d love that” you say before looking down, your tone barely containing the ecstasy you feel within. You feel the chirp of a thousand birds singing inside your heart.

His eyes light up, mouth forming into a grin as you see the muscles on his face relaxing visibly.

Kakashi’s eyes crinkle from the smile and he says, “Well then…I’ll see you for dinner.”

He starts walking away, before turning back and calling out “Oh and yes, I do buy my fish from the market by the temple.”

And with that, he turns away grinning, disappearing with a whoosh, leaving you to stand there, still in shock and gaping after him; wondering which stars had aligned, what forces in the universe had conjoined and what twist of fate had occurred, turning your life around, making you the happiest woman in the world, in the span of just one day.

* * *

Aaand a lil bonus addition :-

It’d been around two months that you and the silver haired jounin of the Leaf had been together. Almost everyone in the village knew by now and it had been two months of pure unadulterated bliss. You fit so well together, it felt as if you’d never been apart.

Today was just another lazy afternoon, with you and Kakashi in bed, entangled in each other’s arms, neither one of you wanting to leave your little heaven on earth.

You intertwine your fingers with Kakashi’s, backing into him so you’re pressed against the warmth of his body.

“Hey, Kakashi?” you whisper.

“Hm?” he replies, sleep mangling his voice.

“I’ve always wondered. Why did you ask me out that day? You told me you’d liked me for a long time too. So… why not before? Why that day?”

He chuckles softly into your hair, pulling you closer with his arm.

“Well” he says, almost in a whisper. “I thought it was time I stopped being a wuss.”

“Huh?”

“It had been a really long time and… I thought it was time to, how do I put this, pussy up.” he says into your neck, his voice calm, but with just a tinge of amusement.

WAIT A MINUTE-

You jerk up on the bed, freeing yourself of his grip and turning to face him.

A subtle smile plays across his lips but his face is tranquil, giving nothing away.

Panic rises in you and you shake his arm vigorously. “KAKASHI! HOW-HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?”

He doesn’t stir, eyes closed tight, pretending to be sleeping.

“KAKASHI TELL ME RIGHT NOW” you continue shaking him, but it’s in vain, the man doesn’t stir.

You sigh, replaying the day from two months ago in your head, ravaging your brain for any possible hint. And just like that, it dawns upon you.

“Oh my god—That was you.” You blurt, everything suddenly clicking into place in your head. You feel like a fool for not realising sooner.

He remains unmoving, eyes closed shut. But you don’t miss the slight wrinkle of his mask as his lips upturn into a grin beneath it.

“That was you, wasn’t it??? It was! You sneaky little bastard!” you shriek, jabbing at his arm with a few pokes, but it does nothing.

“Kakashi!”

“Ssshh, I’m sleeping” he whispers in fake slumber, a smile grazing his mouth as he wraps his arm around you, pulling you back into the bed with him.

“Did you really just shush m- “ you begin in protest, but your sentence remains unfinished as he presses his mouth onto yours, catching your lips in a kiss and shutting you up before you can say more.

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