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fuckmyskywalker · 4 months

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❄️𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟓𝐭𝐡 : 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 - 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫.

— CW: 18+, smut. Cheating. PiV. Both Padme and Anakin cheat. | Word count: 2.0k (not proofread!)

— a/n: Consider this a late Christmas gift because it's 2k <3. I normally don't like my fics but I can say I am proud of this one. Inspired by an unreleased song by Jules Paymer. Follow them ;).

— Anyafest 2023 + Taglist!

Anakin stares at you from the other side of the large room, admiring how you carry yourself with such grace and confidence. His hand tightens around the glass of whatever the fuck he is drinking, he can’t really give a damn about it now. All he can think of is how much he wishes he could yank your hair and beat you up. Drag you to the center of the room and expose you, scream to the world how you ruined the best thing he would ever have.

It’s time. He knows he has to be quick before you get away before he can get his stupid revenge. As he strides towards you, he can hear Padmé’s apologies ringing in his ear, bouncing inside his brain and making his blood boil.

“I am so sorry, it was a mistake! I promise I didn't mean to.”

“It was an accident, Anakin. I was drunk— she means nothing to me!”

“Please forgive me. I just couldn't lie to you anymore. It was killing me.”

Sure, maybe fucking the woman your wife cheated on you with isn't the best approach, but that's the only thing he can think of right now. Thankfully Padmé skipped today’s event, probably at home lamenting herself and planning a very sappy and emotional apology, buying him gifts, and preparing a new set of tears to ask for forgiveness. Anakin knows he will forgive her in the end, besides her he doesn't have anyone else. How is he going to give up the only good thing in his life?

He is pathetic to even consider forgiving an infidelity, but what else can he do? It isn't often that his mind strings a coherent thought, and tonight exception.will not be the exception. It would be easier to give you the benefit of the doubt; to be fair, you weren’t aware of his marriage, and if Padmé was as drunk as she claimed then— no. He cannot give her the benefit of the doubt. You are quick to acknowledge his presence and Anakin doesn’t miss the way you eye him up and down, completely oblivious to the way his eyes are beheading you. He isn’t nice when he presents himself, in fact, he is quite harsh with replying to your questions.

Your obvious interest makes him sick, so you think that with that pretty face and expensive gowns you can just get away with everything you want? Disgusting.

“I thought Jedis weren’t fond of these sorts of events,” You speak in a sultry tone. Anakin can bet you think you are being so smooth and seductive— batting those long eyelashes at him.

“Well, it’s nice to cool off from the stress every now and then.” Anakin gruffly replies, taking a sip of his drink trying to sound as charming as possible which on a normal day wouldn’t be hard, but Maker, his shoulders are so tense they hurt and his stomach is twisting with anger.

“Glad you can find a reliever,” You wink, and he can read what you imply— another type of reliever is thrown on the plate, it is up to him to bite it or spit on it. “You do look tense… General.” The way his title rolls down your tongue makes him sick. So you know who he is, did Padmé say something? Did she mention him at all? Did she even think about him as he was breaking his trust?

“Long day.”

The initial conversation is polite, he has to give you that. You don’t go straight to the point which he is thankful for, if you had tried any insinuation Anakin wouldn’t have been able to hold the impulse to crash his glass against your head. His internal struggle becomes hard; when he finds himself smirking at a snarky comment you make of another guest on the other side of the room, or when he sees you smiling at a very fake compliment he gave you… he feels nauseous— to not say ashamed— he can see right through you but you cannot see his real intentions.

“I can’t imagine living on the edge all day,” You sigh, tapping your long, manicured nails on the oddly-shaped drink. “Must be quite challenging.

Anakin suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. “You get used to it,” Is he being too harsh? Too scattering? How are you supposed to treat the person you now hate the most?

You offer him another drink which he reluctantly accepts, is this your preferred method? To force people to drink and then take advantage of them? Or is his vision of reality so distorted he isn’t able to pick up that you are the one tipsy? If any he would be the one taking advantage of you.

Anakin watches you drink without restraints, staining the edge of the glass with your dark lipstick. Is that the same color that tempted his wife? Or did you choose another shade that night? His sudden jealousy is clouding his judgment, not that he has much but still.

After your third drink— although Anakin is sure you had a couple more before he decided it was time to talk to you— your tongue begins to lose. Your questions get bolder as well as your touch. Your hand lays on his arm when you laugh, your body slowly making its way dangerously close to his. Despite the sick feeling that rises up his stomach, threatening to regurgitate the lousy dinner he managed to eat, Anakin forces himself to place his gloved hand on your lower back with an unauthentic smile. He needs to play along because that’s what he wants right? To get revenge.

It’s not hard to find an empty room in this ridiculously enormous building. Too many unused rooms that on a normal day would throw him into a useless rant about how poorly managed the Senate budget is, but then again— this isn’t a normal day for Anakin. What is extremely challenging is to continue with his plan; you let him do his move which makes him drown in self-doubt and loathing again. Was his wife the one who made the first move? Did she kiss you the way he was kissing you now?

The dark red lipstick smears all over his lips, and Anakin swears he can taste bile on his tongue. It’s stupid. What did he even think this was a good idea to start with? He is fucking stupid. Bringing your body closer to his, Anakin parts his lips to deepen the kiss, shivering when your tongue comes in contact with his. Pushing you further against the wall, you mistake his intentions— he looks like he wants to merge his body with yours, and the misunderstanding fuels your desire. He is handsome, terribly so, so where’s the harm in having a little fun? His kisses are heated, rushed, he wants to be done with this as soon as possible. He wants to— what the fuck does he even wants to? Is this the moment of clarity? Maybe.

Suddenly your lips don’t feel that bad. The taste turns sweet and it catches him by surprise, if this was what Padmé felt then maybe… Can he even blame her?

A kiss. No. Multiple. Contact after contact with Anakin's mind fogs. Your sounds are just as sweet as your lips, asking him for more, praising him, practically dragging him to the same mess he was never meant to get involved with. Clothes soon become a bother, but the situation isn’t ideal— nothing is. Your hands shouldn’t feel as good as they do— but fuck they do. Anakin gets greedy fast, a characteristic he probably will never be able to get rid of. A familiar burn builds up in his body, the only thing that wasn’t supposed to happen.

It’s laughable. It really is.

“Please don’t stop,” You whisper against his lips in a way that makes his blood boil, bright erythrocytes then pump his cock until it strains against his black robes, you feel it, of course, you do. “Oh— Anakin.”

Sweet. His name sounds so charming when you say it with his hand in between your legs. He wants more. Why? He’s not sure. Nothing seems real right now and for an instant he forgets he is about to have sex with the woman who unbeknownst to her ruined his marriage. Your skirts are heavy, but the layers of fabric don’t seem to be a problem. He finds you dripping, easily sinking two fingers inside you, watching with half-lidded eyes how you arch your back. No longer sweet but sinful. Anakin pants, feeling pathetic for finding the slightest hint of enjoyment in what was intended to be revenge.

“I can’t do this,” He mutters, withdrawing his hand. He can watch his fingers glisten under the dim light of the room. “I… I can’t.”

“Yes, yes you can,” Your voice is like a lullaby, broken and barely frustrated by the irruption. “Anakin, I need you.” Do you? Because he doesn’t know what he needs. The lines blur too fast for his mind to catch up and the next thing he registers is his trembling hand fumbling with his pants. “Please, Ani. Fuck me.” That damn nickname. The one that was reserved for the woman he loves, but if she had to share her with you for a night, it is only fair that Padmé shares that pet name with you too.

This wasn’t supposed to be something pleasurable, now Anakin can see clearly how Padmé couldn’t say no. When he fully slides his throbbing cock inside your tight heat he crumbles. Now he has gotten his own taste.

His thrusts are fast and eager, bringing one leg around his hips as his palm rests against the wall. You cling to his body desperately, moaning freely now— each sound pushing him closer to the edge he wasn’t meant to cross in the first place. A bead of sweat rolls down his brow, his tongue swirls with your sensually. No other touch had felt this addictive, plus the taboo of the secret he is holding, the one he will have to drag to the grave now. Anakin groans, biting your lower lip and tugging it with his teeth. Your pussy envelops his cock like a glove, tight and warm, so good and so bad at the same time.

“Maker— you feel so good,” You moan directly in his ear, furrowing your brows and rolling your eyes in delight. His cock feels amazing, stretching you in forms no other man has done. Is this the type of man the Jedi Council is keeping away from you? “I’m going to come, Ani. Fuck— harder, please.” You beg. That’s all you do. More. More. More. You are insatiable.

He is too far in— both literally and figuratively— to even deny you, which would mean he denies himself. He is close too, he can tell by the familiar clench under his lower stomach, how his balls tighten and slap against your sweaty body. He shouldn’t come inside, then he would be the same as his wife— or even worse.

The brief clarity the Force itself blessed him with suddenly disappears when you come undone around him. It’s like a wave crashing on top of him, drowning him in a feeling he knows will never be experienced again. You look like an angel, a miserable comparison given the situation. You climax with a strained moan, mouth hanging open and cursing to the Gods he will never believe in— and he is following you just seconds after.

Everything is ruined. Your makeup, your underwear, his dignity. Like a bitter reminder, the same apologies Padmé gave him over and over spun around his head with the same strength as his orgasm. Anakin rests his forehead against your naked shoulder, saliva trickling down the corner of his mouth as he struggles to catch his breath. He is fucked. He is so done. He is ruined.

He understands why Padmé cheated on him.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anyafest 2023!#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skwalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x reader smut #anakin smut #anakin x you #anakin x reader #anakin x y/n

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sebscore · 1 year

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hey lovely! i love how u write and i’ve just had this idea for a request for a while and it’s with charles and u know how he plays the piano 😁 so the reader loves to sing and has a really nice voice so he loves to play like an adele song and let her just singgg. I think it’s so sweeet, have nice day/night ily!!🫶

PIANO PRINCE | CHARLES LECLERC

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

warnings: this is heavily inspired by taylor swift and joe alwyn's relationship!

author's note: this is probably the first and only time I'll ever complete a request the day it was requested lol- I'm proud of myself. I know it is not exactly like how you suggested it, but I still hope you enjoy it! thanks for the support and I hope you have a nice day!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''There is this one name that comes up a few times in the song credits,'' Jimmy puts the cover art of her new album down, ''Jules Perceval.'' He reads out loud, a humorous grin on his face.

Y/N nods her head, already knowing where this was going. ''Yes, Jules Perceval.'' She confirms.

''Your fans are quite confused on who this person is, because it's the first time they've shown up in your album credits and they have a lot of theories so can you confirm who Jules Perceval is?'' Her publicist had already confirmed with Jimmy's team that they had permission to ask about the mystery person that had producing credits on her new body of work.

The singer laughs as the audience reacts enthusiastically. ''Yes, I can,'' she mischievously smiles at Jimmy who claps his hands, ''Jules Perceval is a pseudonym for my boyfriend.'' As soon as the words left her mouth, the crowd started applauding and making 'ooh'- noises.

''Your boyfriend? Is he a composer or?'' The host grows more curious at the revelation that it's her significant other.

She shakes her head. ''No, he's actually a, uh, race car driver.'' Y/N chuckles, Jimmy's surprised face amusing her greatly.

''A race car driver? Wow, that's quite a contrast,'' he laughs, the audience giggling along with him, ''how did you guys end up working together? Because your jobs are vastly different.'' He asks, putting his cards down.

''It wasn't planned, but Charles- my boyfriend- he loves playing the piano and he's been doing that for years, and one day he was just playing around on it and not taking it very seriously, but he played this certain melody that caught my attention,'' she explained, ''I asked him to play it again, recorded it on my phone and I send it to my producer that I usually work with.''

''He sent a more worked out version of the melody back and that's how it came about.'' She finished her explanation.

Jimmy and the audience looked impressed. ''That's amazing! And why did he decide to use a pseudonym and not his real name?''

''We wanted people to listen to the song without having any higher expectations simply because he was in the credits.'' Y/N answers, diplomatically.

''Jules Perceval sounds very fancy,'' Jimmy smiled, gathering some laughs from the crowd, ''did you come up with that or did your boyfriend?''

''That was all him,'' she grinned, ''his godfather is named Jules and one of his middle names is Perceval so that's how the name came about.'' Y/N remembers clearly how proud Charles looked as he told her and her team which name he wanted to be credited under.

''I love that! Well, if the racing doesn't work out, he has another profession he can get right into.'' Jimmy teased, leaning his arms on the desk.

Y/N giggled, hiding her face in her hands. ''I'll tell him that.''

''So… I can quit racing, huh?'' Charles' tired voice sounded over the phone, the mischief still present.

Y/N snorted at his greeting. ''You watched the interview then, I thought you might be too busy to watch it.''

''Of course I saw it, it was your first time on the show- I couldn't miss it.'' His words melted her heart, touched by the fact that he still took the time to watch her interview despite being busy in Italy with simulator work.

''I really appreciate it, honey- I hope you're doing well, you sound very tired.'' His voice was a bit deeper than usual, indicating just how exhausted he was.

She could hear him chuckle on the other side. ''I'm fine, chérie,'' he assured her, ''it was just a long day, that's all.''

Y/N was about to reply, but her manager waved her hands in front of her face. ''I'm sorry, we have to go now.'' She whispered, pointing at the door of the dressing room.

''You have to go, huh?'' Charles sighed.

''Yeah,'' the singer pouted, disappointed the couple didn't get to call for at least a few more minutes, ''I'll call you later, though.''

''It's okay, mon amour,'' despite not seeing him, she was sure he was smiling, ''I'm always proud of you, okay? I'm thinking of you.'' The driver let her know the words in his heart.

''I'm thinking of you too- I love you.'' Y/N bid him goodbye.

''Je t'aime.''

#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic

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cillian-gets-me-wetter · 1 month

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casual - carmy berzatto x fem!reader

prompt: “he hasn’t got his eyes on anybody else, you know? ..hmm? but it’s hard for that bastard to take his eyes off of you.” by @urfriendlywriter

a/n: this is going to be a two part story so buckle your seatbelts for this one. takes place during season 2, was inspired by this edit i saw recently! i literally have been jeremy allen white girly since shameless so i’m glad he’s getting his flowers and writing anything about his characters is a personal favorite of mine :))

part 2: “silver springs” out now!

warnings: reader and carmy are on their fwb shit, 18+ only??, mentions of smoking, claire (my apologies, ms. girl 😭), cameos from richie and syd, smutty??, kissing, co-workers to fwb to lovers, slow burn, angst

summary: you were hired as a cashier and server at the beef and sometimes helped out in the kitchen whenever no one was in the front of the house. a few months after working there, you struck up a friends with benefits arrangement with the new owner, carmy berzatto. while your connection was supposed to be strictly casual, he starts seeing a girl he knew from childhood, claire, which breaks your heart.

disclaimer: i do not own any characters mentioned in this story. this is for fictional purposes only. do not copy or claim my work as your own. comments, reblogs and constructive feedback are appreciated!!

here are resources for supporting palestine and gaza 🇵🇸

masterlist

knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out, is it casual now?

you’ve been working at the beef for over six months now after the new owner, carmy berzatto hired you after reviewing your application for the job and the interview process. you looked him up not long after, discovering that he’s an michelin star chef so of course, you knew you had high expectations to uphold.

the first month working there, you worked in the back of the house alongside him, his cousin named richie as well as other people they hired on to work with them to revive the failing restaurant. you were used to working in fast paced environments as you had previously worked in a couple of local restaurants throughout chicago.

then eventually you move up to the front of the house, taking people’s orders and making sure everything is in good shape and you were able to have your friend, jules, who you attended a few college classes with.

you quickly scribble down the order for the customer at the booth near the register as you hear the bell behind you ping, indicating the food for the other customers in the restaurant is ready. you asked the man, “will that complete your order, sir?” he nodded as he looked over the menu, “yeah that’ll be all, thank you so much.” you smiled politely, “of course, i’ll come back and refill your drink for you.”

you walk over behind the counter, grabbing the two plates off of the shelf. then you bring them to the customers who are sitting in the next booth over when jules comes in for her shift, politely smiling at you before walking to the back. you go back to the previous man you were serving and get him a refill as she walks back out in her apron.

you go up to her, “hey, i’m going to go on my break. can you cover these tables for me?” she nodded, “yeah, sure. don’t have too much fun.” she walked over to see if the man was ready to order as you walked into the kitchen, taking in the chaos as everyone is at their stations making sure all the food is up to standard before sending the food out.

you make eye contact with carmy as he’s talking with marcus about something as you walk closer to the back, sneaking into his office to wait for him. unbeknownst to everyone except jules, syd and richie, you and carmy were hooking up. sometimes you would spend the night at each other’s places and have quickies whenever you both had the opportunity.

it wasn’t long until he walked in, closing and locking the door behind him. you sat on his desk as he walked up to you, parting your legs as he stood between them. he wore his usual white shirt and blue apron, your fingers trailing down his muscular biceps. you traced the tattoos on his hands as you stared up at him with lust filled eyes.

he sighed, “fuck, you can’t look at me like that.” he felt his cock throb in his pants as you wrapped your leg around his waist, pulling him closer to you. he quickly reached behind him, untying the apron and throwing it to the floor. you grinded against his clothed erection slowly, making him shudder as you smile and lick your lips at his reaction.

you whisper seductively, “and what are you going to do about it?” he shook his head, “oh, you have no idea.” you suddenly grabbed a fistful of his shirt, his lips roughly slamming against yours. your hands released the hold on him as one hand instinctively ran through his curly, golden brown hair.

his cold hands wandered under your shirt, groping over your bra, making you mewl as he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. you let out a moan into the kiss as his hands then lifted your shirt up so he can get a good look at your tits when his phone dings. he ignores it as he grasps the straps of your bra, pulling both down to reveal them.

the cold air hits you, making your nipples hard as he groped and kneaded them. you whimpered underneath him melting into his touch as his phone goes off again. he stops touching you, pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing a quick reply to whoever texted. you pulled your bra straps up as you felt the moment was over and moved your shirt back down.

he quickly put his phone down on his desk, the phone screen facing you as he leaned down, whispering in your ear. “i’m sorry about that.” you whispered back, “it’s okay.” he leaves kisses down your jaw and moves to your neck, making you moan softly. you felt the vibration of his phone against the desk, taking a quick glance since he wasn’t paying attention.

you simply saw the name: “claire” and the text said, “on my way.” you were quickly pulled away from your thoughts as an urgent knock on the door brought you both back to reality. he scoffed and yelled out, “i’m on my break, what do you want?” tina’s voice projected through the door, “chef, we need you here for a second.” you pouted as he left a few soft kisses on your neck before pulling away from you.

you asked, “did you want to come over tonight?” he grabbed his apron off of the floor and tossed it to the side and pulling out a extra one he kept in the cabinet. he shook his head, “i can’t tonight. how about this weekend?” you nodded as you got off his desk, “that’s fine with me.” he smiled at you, “good. i’ll see you later.” he kissed your lips sweetly before walking back to the kitchen.

you smiled to yourself at the fact he would always kiss you whenever he had to leave somewhere, even if it’s back to the kitchen. you snuck out of his office, as your thoughts flooded with how much you truly feel him. the only person who knows about your feelings for carmy was richie after he walked in on you and him fucking in his office.

you walked out into the night as you stayed in late to help prep for the next day. you pulled a cigarette you always kept in your apron pocket out of convenience. you sat on one of the crates as you ignited the lighter with your thumb, holding it towards the butt end and spark it.

you take a long drag, feeling your nerves settle down after the long day you had. you hear the door open and look over seeing richie walk out, closing the door behind him. he walks over, standing not too far away as you exhale the smoke out of your mouth. you hold up the cigarette to him as he accepts it, taking his own drag.

he exhales the smoke into the air before handing it back to you. he asked, “so, how long have you been sleeping with my cousin?” you blinked at the sudden boldness of the question as you try to figure out what to say. you stammered, “uh.. for like two months now…” he nodded as you saw him mentally do the math of how long this had been going on under his nose.

you both sat in silence as you passed the cigarette back and forth. when the cigarette was done, you flicked it over to the ground next to you before stepping on it. he started to make his way back into the restaurant but stopped to look at you, “he hasn’t gotten his eyes on anyone else, you know?”

you looked at him, “..hmm?” you heard what he said but it wasn’t something you could wrap your head around. he continued, “but something i do know is that it’s hard for that bastard to take his eyes off of you.”

you walk back to the front of the house and catch up with jules on the tables that need to be taken care of. she lets you know the orders for the people who have ordered their food while pointing out those who just came in.

as you start catching up on what you missed during your “break”, a woman who looks about your age walks in. she had brown hair and wore medical scrubs. she walked over and asked, “excuse me? do you know if carmy is here?” you smiled politely and nodded, “yeah, i can get him for you. are you a friend of his?”

she said, “he’s my boyfriend, actually.” you couldn’t tell if you heard glass breaking from the kitchen or if it was your heart was shattering in your chest after hearing what she said. she held her hand out, introducing herself to you. “i’m claire, by the way.”

you nodded as you connected the dots in your head. you knew that she was the person texting him while you both almost fucked for the millionth time in his office. you didn’t shake her hand and coldly responded, “i can go get him for you.” she was about to thank you when you suddenly made your way into the kitchen before she could say anything else to you.

you walked back into the kitchen as richie attempted to greet you but you ignored him, making your way towards his cousin. carmy was talking to syd about a new recipe when you tapped him on the shoulder. he looked over at you, “what’s up?” his face suddenly dropped after noticing the hurt in your eyes before you said, “your girlfriend is here.” venom was laced in each of those four words.

the kitchen suddenly fell silent as everyone collectively knew you and carmy had something going on. the charged energy between you two would fill the room whenever you were around each other. they all looked at carmy as if he ran over a dog without any remorse. he walked away from you and to the front, without saying another word to you.

as soon as carmy was out of sight, everyone went back to work at their designated stations. you walked out to the back of the restaurant, needing fresh air to collect your thoughts. you didn’t hear the door open behind you until you heard a voice say, “hey.” you jump startled until you turn around and see it’s just syd, making you sigh from relief. “jesus, don’t scare me like that, dude!”

she laughed, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you!” she then changed her tone, “i was just checking to see if you were okay after that.” you were far from okay. all you wanted to was scream at him for not telling you that he was dating anyone but still sleeping with you. you also wanted to cry and wonder why you weren’t the one he wanted to date.

you shrugged it off, “yeah, i’m fine.” while you knew that you had with him was supposed to be casual.. but was it casual when you would lie in bed after sex, nude for hours as you talked about your lives? or was it casual when he would run his fingers through your hair while you read your book and laid your head in his lap on his couch during your days off?

she gave you a comforting smile, “no, you’re not. it’s okay not to be after what you found out.” her words made your eyes well up with tears as you blinked them away to prevent feeling vulnerable. she pulled you into a hug, you laid your head on her shoulder as you sobbed.

she rubbed your back, letting you cry it all out rather than judging you. your breathing began to get ragged as you struggled to talk through your cries, “i don’t know why he wouldn’t tell me about her.” she sighed, “sometimes it’s better if we don’t understand everything.”

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #jeremy allen white #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #writeblr #Spotify #izzy writes 💕

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eundiarys · 1 year

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LABYRINTH — ❪ TOMORROW X TOGETHER SMAU SERIES INSPIRED BY TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS ❫

info— hellooo welcome to my first ever series! this series will be txt socmed aus inspired by taylor swift songs, i hope u enjoy ^_^ please note that this isn’t the actual representation of the idols, and that this is merely for entertainment!

THE WAY I LOVED YOU, CHOI YEONJUN 𖦹

pairing — choi yeonjun x fem! reader.

warnings — will be added on every chapter.

extended summary — not being to get over your highschool ex even after he broke your heart is horrible. that’s understandable, especially since he was your first everything. but yn has decided that it’s time to get out of her shell and date again! lucky for her, there’s a perfect candidate for that as her company’s president son is head heels for her. but what if it doesn’t work? what if she still longs for the way he loved her? and what happens if he feels the same?

genre — fluff, angst, crack, socmed, non idol!au academic rivals, enemies to lovers, highschool au (flashback), opposites attract, second chance romance, exes to lovers, etc.

short teaser / masterlist ( ONGOING )

CRUEL SUMMER, CHOI SOOBIN 𖦹

pairing — choi soobin x fem! reader.

warnings — will be added on every chapter.

extended summary — summer when you were 17 was the best and worst time of your life, filled with memories you aren’t sure how you feel about. having a summer “fling” is fun until those feelings start to grow. and you know that summer was your favourite season before he left. now that he’s back into your life, will that change?

genre — fluff, angst, crack, socmed, non idol! au, she fell first he fell harder, second chance romance, etc.

short teaser / masterlist ( COMING SOON )

CARDIGAN, CHOI BEOMGYU 𖦹

pairing — choi beomgyu x fem! reader.

warnings — will be added on every chapter.

extended summary — beomgyu was once your everything, and now he is simply just a memory that you want to forget. you both were young and stupid, but for some reason your heart still belongs to him. this time, you are determined change your ending with him to a happy one. but will that actually happen?

genre — fluff, angst, crack, socmed, non idol! au, one sided love, second chance romance, etc.

short teaser / masterlist ( COMING SOON )

ENCHANTED, KANG TAEHYUN 𖦹

pairing — kang taehyun x fem! reader.

warnings — will be added on every chapter.

extended summary — taehyun and yn was known as the inseparable duo ever since kindergarten. and now they are in college. yn also has been in love with taehyun for 7 years, and wants to move on because she knows taehyun will never look at her that way. but when yn goes on a date with a guy taehyun realises that he doesn’t like that idea. a bit too much.

genre — fluff, angst, crack, socmed, non idol! au, college au, she fell first he fell harder, etc.

short teaser / masterlist ( COMING SOON )

YOU BELONG WITH ME, HUENING KAI 𖦹

pairing — huening kai x fem! reader.

warnings — will be added on every chapter.

extended summary — which one is more miserable? being in love with your best friend 10 years and never being able to confess because you don’t want to ruin your friendship or the fact that he’s now interested in having a relationship and wants to go on dates with people on the campus? answer is both. when yn decides to stop liking kai, her friends don’t agree with the idea. her friends and kai’s friends have decided to show kai that what he’s looking for has been here this whole time.

genre — fluff, teeny bit angst, crack, socmed, non idol! au, college au, childhood best friends to lovers.

short teaser / masterlist ( COMING SOON )

( please don’t copy, translate, repost on any other app, or take inspo any of my works without permission! )

jules notes 📝 FINALLY POSTING THIS!!! hope ur all excited im jumping in joy rn

IMPORTANT ‼️ — (1) first of all, im super thankful for @sakuzleaves for making the amazing banners u should all follow her and check out her works because she’s so talented 🥹 <3 (2) taglists are open by smau that is posted, no reservations or anything. (3) taglists for all smaus of this series are open. and for individual masterlist/smau that is being posted are limited to two batches only~ first come first serve i guess! (4) idk when this will start but i hope you guys are as excited as i am >3<

taglist — @zuyairus @ddenoudepression @sserafimez @ox1-lovesick @reverbtunes @vernonweb @flwoie @ja4hyvn @xiaoderrrr @galaxyhalloes @j4y-lvr @taegyuul @trsrina @fairyytyunn @r7yu @taekwondoes @pleasetellmenow @nshimura @soobin-chois @jinsquishes @sakuzleaves @bomugf @ox1-lovesick @eulris @bunnystrm @haknom @txtbrainrot @bluebearybeom @cherriegyu @snowfalltxt @boba-beom @hyeinszn @liyaliar @wonioml @lvrjjun @luvsoobs @strawbrinkofdeath @cecedrake2217 @soobswvrld @yenqa @adajoemaya @cookiehaos @captivq @captivq

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cinamun · 1 year

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*Returns Sunday, April 28th 2024

Named after one of my favorite books and albums, Things Fall Apart is an epic tale of lust, greed, betrayal, vengeance and, above all else, growth.

This story never started as a legacy nor was it intended to be anything other than gameplay. However, these characters evolved and, as such, so did their stories; each intertwined and forever impacted by the others.

Written, played and photographed by The Watcher circa 2015. This story is best read/viewed on a laptop, tablet or PC.

Should you choose to continue, please note that this story is rated MA for Mature Audiences and contains strong language, violence, adult themes, strong sexual content, nudity and a variety of triggers appropriately tagged for depression and abuse in all of its forms. This story is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18 (DNI).

Pictured above is the original cast, from left to right:

Elise Farrow ~ Juan Rivera ~ Darren Drake ~ Indya Williams ~ Jerrilee Coleman ~ Dr. Jules Carter

As you make your way through their lives, names will change and you'll find that new characters emerge for either good or sinister reasons.

Shall we begin?

Act One

Act Two

Act Three

Chapter 22: A Thin Line Between Life and Death | Chapter 23: And Then There Were Four | Chapter 24: Illusions of Independence

Current

Pictured above is the current (2023) cast from left to right

Elliot Mahajan* ~ Darren Drake Jr. ~ Indira Dior Drake ~ Jayce Carruthers ~ Hope Diamond Carruthers (Drake) ~ Indya Drake ~ Darren Drake Sr. ~ Jerri Coleman

*Deceased

Bonus Content

Story Commentary | Story Extras

In case you need a palate cleanser at any time, check out my Globetrotter Challenge or The Greenwoods for a little Rated E for Everyone fun!

Buy me a coffee?

Posting Schedule

I typically post story updates/episodes on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. I post in the mornings (US CST) and reblog in the evenings.

Author's Note:

This story has been a labor of love, writing is a hobby and so is gaming. Combining the two has helped me in ways I cannot put into words. I am thankful to you for enjoying this hobby with me. Writing urban fiction using the sims, for me, will forever be inspired by mochasims, rest in paradise, dear friend. Mocha created a community for Black storytellers where one didn't exist anywhere in the Sims Community and paved the way for other Black writers to follow with her epic tale of Men and Stilettos and of course Kasim's adventures!

I will be forever grateful for the safe space she created to tell real, Black ass stories. Much love sis.

Reactions to Mocha's passing:

1 | 2

#ts4 #ts4 storyteller #ts4 story #black simblr #black sims #simblr #black simmer #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 story #mobile navigation

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mrs-snape5984 · 2 months

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„You look beautiful undone…and my heart's connected.“

„We learn the most when we least expect it. We learn the most when we break in two. (…) It's the cracks that let the light shine through…“ („Beautiful Undone” by Laura Doggett)

“Her hands were brushing a strand of his silky hair out of his face and in this exact moment, Julia’s whole existence got just one purpose: She would always protect this way too skinny, raven-haired boy with his adorably crooked nose and those beautiful - and yet so sad - obsidian eyes!”

This is a tiny snippet from one of my stories, which I’m only writing in order to cope with my own pain. I guess, I won’t ever be bold enough to share them publicly and my friend @vulnus-sanare has the duty to burn my laptop as soon as I’ll be gone one day (even though she threatened me to share my dirty work with the people in our beloved Snapedom).

But this little snippet fits perfectly with the amazing artwork, which my friend, the extremely gifted @snake-queen7 drew for me.

I’ve always had a soft spot for Severus in his younger years. All I’d wanted was to keep this boy safe from harm, making him feel loved and cared for…because this is exactly, what he deserved!

In my stories, Jules is Sevy’s friend, his lover, his protector, his guardian angel, his saviour, his powerful goddess of revenge. And to be honest, you don’t have to be a psychologist to understand, where this is coming from. Julia’s strength and her determination to make the world a better place for her beloved Severus are rooted in my own feelings of helplessness and despair.

My reality with ME/CFS couldn’t be more different from my stories. I feel trapped. Trapped in my own diseased and disabled body…trapped in my room….trapped in my darkness…trapped in a life, in which I don’t feel appreciated anymore.

I’m feeling more and more like a useless piece of furniture, which someone has hidden in a dark chamber. Still good enough to keep it, even though it’s not in plain sight…or at least not bad enough to waste it eventually.

Where’s my light? Where’s my saviour? Where’s my way out of this hell? I guess, it’s just like Severus has said: “Well, it may have escaped your notice,but life isn’t fair!” (“Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix”)

I’ve always loved Severus for his resilience, his stubborn determination and strength. Since 21 years, he’s not only my comfort character and the love of my life…he’s my role model, my inspiration to keep on going…to keep on living.

So, I’m clinging to him and to all the things, I’m using in order to cope with my misery: I’m a loving mother of three wonderful children. I have a handful amazing friends with a deep understanding of my grief and despair, but who also appreciate my dry humour and my sarcasm. I’m still capable of pouring out my feelings onto paper, creating something beautiful in my stories. And I’m full of gratitude for the artists of Snapedom, who are helping me to bring my creative ideas to life with their art.

And that’s exactly, what you have done for me with this delightful piece of art, @snake-queen7! Thank you for giving me some comfort and peace for my troubled heart and soul by drawing Sevy and Jules again. You are wonderful and I appreciate not only your outstanding art, but also your kindness and compassion. Thank you for everything! 🥹

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

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chibrary · 2 months

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INTERVIEW: "My Off Track Life" (Alfa Romeo, 2018)

When and how was your passion born? My passion was born pretty early. It was a day I did not want to go to school. Uh, and, and yeah, my father went to see his best friend which had a track, uh, Jules Bianchi's father. And I've tried karting for the first time and since then I fell in love and on the way back, uh I, I told my father it was the job I, I wanted to do when older.

Do you remember the first time you have been in a car? The first time I drove a racing car was back in 2014. So, yeah, I was, I was 16 years old.

What did you learn from Formula 2 World Championship winning experience? In Formula Two, I've learned massively. Uh, obviously, it has been an amazing year for me professionally, but a very, very difficult year, uh, personally because I've lost my father. So, it has not been an easy year, but all in all, with the results, we have had a great year, a great experience. It was my first year with pit stops. So, this has been a very good experience to prepare me to Formula One. Yeah, to have a first experience with these Pirelli tires.

Who is your favorite driver? Who inspires you? My favorite driver is, uh, was Ayrton Senna He has been a very inspirational person to me. My father was a big fan of it and he kind of gave me his passion, even though I've never had the chance to see him in reality. But obviously I've read a lot of books and seen a lot of movies.

Which is your favorite circuit? My favorite circuit is probably my home track. Uh, obviously, Monaco is a special place for me.

How do you find concentration before a race? Before the race I like to prepare obviously with, uh, some physical training because obviously it's quite, uh, demanding on the, on the physical parts and then obviously to try to imagine the perfect lap. It always helps, uh, to be as quick as possible in the first laps.

What has changed in your life becoming a professional driver? Being a Formula One driver, there are quite a lot of things that changes. The media attention is a lot bigger. There was always quite a shock at the beginning, but you need to get used to it. Many people are looking at you expecting some results. You have a bit more pressure, but you need to, you need to handle it.

What is your road car? My road car is the Stelvio Quadrifoglio, I really, really enjoy this, uh, this car. It has a great handling and, um, yeah, very, very fun to drive.

Thanks to all the Alpha Romeo Sauber F1 team fans and see you soon on track. Ciao.

#series:f1 #format:video #format:interview #year:2018

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fruitcoops · 9 months

Note

Eeeek I am so excited to send in this request bcs I feel like it's one you could really do justice. (if you feel inspired that is. There's absolutely no pressure) but I was wondering if you'd be willing to write coops becoming more comfortable around each other? That's not the right word but just the constant butterflies sort of fading and instead realizing that love isn't all thrill it's sometimes a deep-seated love and being calm and comfy around your loved one? So like one of them doing something that used to cause butterflies and maybe sometimes does still bit it's the realization that you're so attuned to them you're used to it and love it and them?

Sorry this got really long and idk if it makes any sense or not. Anyway I love youuu and your writinggg it's such a source of comfort for me so thank you for doing what you do

Fluff in the wake of Vaincre! I think this is becoming a pattern. Though I, for one, am not complaining. Character credit goes to @lumosinlove, and Hazel, I am suing you for custody of my broken heart.

Sirius is washing the dishes and Remus puts a hand on his lower back without really thinking about it, slipping his palm beneath the hem of a Mickey Mouse t-shirt to rest over the bend of Sirius’ spine. His hand molds to the curve, fingertips on one dimple and heel of his palm on the other, thumb sliding along the lowest notch. Sirius hums and leans his head down to bonk Remus’ in a gentle greeting. They’re all small, thoughtless motions for a small, thoughtless night.

And it hits him.

The kitchen—theirs. The house—theirs. The neighborhood—theirs, where they wander after dinner sometimes or find well-traveled sidewalks to their new favorite shops and diners.

Sirius. His.

They’ve talked about moving, about kids, about after. What happens after hockey? Sirius can get through July now without growing antsy at the absence, but still, it’s taken almost a decade. A smaller house (a warmer house, a house that’s theirs) would be a good change. Not a rushed one, though. It seems there are endless hours to plan and look and comfortably explore.

Water sloshes over the marble countertop. They’ll never have to worry about money; not like Remus’ parents did. They’ll never be restricted by loans or debt or whatever neighborhood falls within budget. He came to Gryffindor marveling at an affordable single-bedroom apartment. It’s a habit he’s been trying to break on those late-night Zillow scrolls. They both love the cabin on the lake, but…

But maybe they’ll need the space.

Remus turns his head to kiss the curve of Sirius’ shoulder and sees him smile, capable hands working soap through a sponge. If they were a regular couple, he thinks—a different couple, he corrects—there might already be a new addition on the way. He can see the longing in Sirius’ eyes when they talk about it and feels the yank in his own chest at the thought. He’s wanted that since he was a child. It only grew more intense when Jules was born. It would make sense for them.

The things he’d do for a baby with Sirius’ eyes and his nose and, god, they can’t stop there, can they? The kid would need a sibling, wouldn’t they? A Regulus, a Julian, a James, a Lily that they could rely on and go headfirst with into the wonder of the world? Someone to lead, or someone to follow. To protect. Remus has never been the type to brainstorm baby names, but the amorphous dream is thrilling on its own.

Sirius makes a small noise in the back of his throat when a bubble pops and spatters Remus’ sleeve with soap. He’d be such a good dad, it’s not even funny. Remus can’t think about it too hard, or else he’ll start scrolling through PetFinder to find another dog to take the edge off.

He bites gently at Sirius’ bicep and feels him laugh, feels him swat at Remus’ hand with no real effort behind it. “Love you.”

“So you bite me?” Sirius snorts. “Weirdo.”

Remus exhales hard through his nose. “I want a baby.”

“Ouais, let me just run to CVS—”

Sirius’ snickering is not dulled by the light pinch to his ribs; Remus hides his grin in another bite. “I’m serious—”

“No, I am.”

“Oh my god,” he groans, turning away.

“Non, non, wait,” Sirius laughs. His arms wind around Remus’ waist and pull him close enough for Sirius to plant a kiss to his temple. It’s adorable, how careful he is to keep his sudsy hands out of the danger zone. He nuzzles into Remus’ cheek before straightening. “A baby. Yes. Absolutely. You know my thoughts on this.”

“I do,” Remus sighs. “And I know why it’s not a good idea right now. Still.”

“Still,” Sirius agrees. He sways them for a moment, then Remus feels a squeeze and the weight along his back is gone. The faucet flicks back on. “I want—” He presses his lips together, mouth twisting as he works it over in his thoughtful way. “I want to be there.”

Remus takes a clean towel from the drawer and begins to dry the plates. “I know.”

“And you’ll probably retire first, which is fine, but I want…” Sirius tips his head back and forth. Remus knows he’s running through their list again. The pros, the cons, the frustrating parts that they so desperately don’t want to deal with but have to anyway. Sirius scrubs at a bit of dried rice and scrunches his nose. “I want you to be there, too. Both of us. From the start.”

“I know.” It sucks. They might not have to scrape and save but time is not a resource hockey will spare them, and Remus is so grateful that Sirius takes that seriously. He meets Sirius where he is in their timeline. “I’ll retire. Take a break. I’ll go back to PT, probably faster than either of us think I will. You’ll decide when your last season is. We’ll put in an application—”

“—and by the time I’m done, we’ll have an idea of any possibility,” Sirius finishes, passing him a clean glass. They’ve repeated it so many times that it’s practically a mantra. Deep down, it gives Remus hope. The planning. It means there’s a chance. It means they’re on the same page all the way through. Sirius lets out a breath. “And then, maybe, we’ll have something concrete.”

Adoption, surrogacy…it doesn’t really matter. Both are such complicated webs of people and events and things entirely out of their control—Remus hates it, and he knows Sirius hates it more. He sets the towel down and moves to rest his forehead between Sirius’ shoulder blades, where his heartbeat keeps time against Remus’ skin. He winds his arms around Sirius’ waist and flattens his hand over Sirius’ belly to feel him breathe.

They have all options in the world, and yet it all feels much too big.

He spreads his feet a little when Sirius leans back. Measured inhales, pulse keeping a constant 60 beats-per-minute.

Remus laughs quietly.

“What?”

He shakes his head, kissing each curve of Sirius’ wingbones beneath his shirt.

“What?” Sirius presses.

“A year ago, if you grabbed me and pulled me back like that, I would have jumped your bones,” he says wryly, burying his grin in the bend of Sirius’ neck. “Listen to us, angsting about the future like a couple of old geezers.”

“Feel free to jump my bones, if you think your arthritic joints can handle it,” Sirius teases.

“I’m just saying—”

“Oh, Christ, I’m turning 29 in a year,” Sirius moans, tapping the water off with a flourish. “I’m dead. I’m dying. I am wasting away. Tell Celeste I love her—”

“We’re standing in the kitchen, washing the dishes, on a Friday night!” Remus protests. “Aren’t we supposed to be…I don’t know, going to a club or something?”

Sirius turns in the circle of his arms with a grave expression. “If we’re going out, I need to go rinse my dentures.”

Remus chooses to ignore that particular comment. “The cubs are probably raising hell and breaking hearts.”

“The cubs are extroverts.” Sirius cocks a brow. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you want to go out and get drunk with a bunch of sweaty strangers.”

He can’t help the wrinkling of his nose; the told-you-so satisfaction on Sirius’ face is fondly irritating enough that he reaches up to cover it with a loose hand. Sirius laughs and dodges him like always, biting a kiss to the side of his palm. “Anyway,” Remus prompts with a squeeze of his narrow hips. “I love you. Which was my whole point.”

“You had a point?”

“I always have a point.”

“That’s a stretch, but alright.”

“Our kitchen,” he says, tilting his chin up. “Our house, our neighborhood, our future.” A smirk pulls at his lips and he rubs his thumbs just beneath Sirius’ shirt. “Mine.”

“Yours,” Sirius murmurs around a smile. They might be getting old and married and boring, and Remus might finally be able to watch Sirius and his capable hands without going weak in the knees, but his kisses will send joy crashing through him forever and always. The future isn’t so big in the safety of a moment.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #sweater weather #vaincre #my fic #fanfic #lumosinlove #fluff #domestic fluff

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wheresarizona · 2 years

Text

(I just love his chest in this gif, it makes me feral)

Inappropriate Waving

summary: Javi is adorable even when he’s railing you.

rating: E (18+!! This is smut. No y/n, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, dirty talk, (1) spank, smut, and fluff, Javi is cute as fuck, reader understands Spanish and English)

pairing: Javi Gutierrez/f!reader

word count: 1k+

a/n: There’s a lot of Spanish with translations because, in my brain, I just figure that’s how he is when he’s lost in the sauce. I had it all double-checked by the love of my life, @juletheghoul, so it should be good! I love you Jules. This was inspired by a meme. Lmaooo This one goes out to @nicolethered. 😘

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Masterlist

You’re pretty sure Javi is determined to make you see god—he’s pounding into you from behind, punching into you so hard your moans are stuttering, arms shaking at holding yourself up from the blinding pleasure of him drilling into that spot that makes you lose your fucking mind.

The coil inside you is wound so tight you can taste the end, knowing you’re almost there, Javi grunting, his fingers digging into your hips hard.

“Quiero que te vengas, mi alma (I want you to come, my soul),” he grunts. “Dámelo. Suéltate, mi amor (Give it to me. Let go, my love).”

His words are like a siren’s song, the seductive rasp of the syllables becoming your undoing and sending you over the edge with a cry of his name—euphoria is coursing through your veins, hearing his thrusts get wetter from your release, the sounds of skin hitting skin, and Javi moaning as you clench around him.

“Eso es (That’s it),” he groans, “Estás tan mojadita y apretadita (you’re so wet and tight).”

He sounds absolutely wrecked, so drunk on your pussy, and you want to see him, want to see that look on his face at how good he feels. You’re panting as you look over your shoulder.

His head is thrown back, the long line of his gorgeous neck on display, a sheen of sweat on his beautiful golden skin. His curls are a mess, his eyes closed, mouth slack, continuing to piston into you.

The grip on your hips tightens as he looks forward, opening his eyes, seeing them glazed over in lust.

He smiles when he finds you looking, raising a hand to wave.

“Hi,” he rasps, still fucking into you.

A giggle bursts from your throat.

“You’re so fucking cute, Javi,” your words come out throaty and rough.

He grinds his hips, his hard cock moving slow and deep, letting you feel every ridge and vein, making your toes curl as you moan.

“Gracias (Thank you),” he beams, winking at you. “Eres divina (You are divine)—you feel so fucking good,” he groans, eyes closing for a moment, his hands squeezing the flesh of your ass. “¿Otra vez (Again)? You want another, mi amor?”

“No,” you gasp. “Wanna feel you,” you bite your lip.

His eyes are so dark not even a sliver of the chocolate brown you love remains.

“Sí (yes),” he nods.

You feel a large palm smack your ass, making you moan, Javi pulling out of you.

“Want you on your back, sí?” he says, easily flipping you over and spreading your thighs. His eyes lock on your glistening pussy, tongue peeking out to swipe along his bottom lip. He can’t help himself, ducking his head down to bury his face in your center, groaning as he licks up your slit.

“Javi,” you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair.

You can hear his enjoyment while his mouth works, licking and sucking all over your wet heat, making your back arch when he pulls your clit between his lips harshly.

“Fuck, Javi. Fuck, you’re gonna make me come again.”

He groans at your words, lighting something inside him that has him eating you out with fervor, feeling that pressure building at the base of your spine as his tongue and lips expertly work you over. Your legs are starting to tremble, muscles tightening, gasping when he presses two fingers inside of you. He crooks them, and a second later, you’re squeezing your eyes shut, fireworks dancing behind your eyelids, moaning his name as you come.

“Tan buena (So good),” Javi says when his head pops up. Your chest is heaving, feeling him crawl up your body while the pleasure works its way through your system. His lips press against yours, making you moan as he kisses you deeply, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him into you.

“Want you inside me,” you murmur into his mouth.

He braces himself on an arm while the other hand grasps his cock, pushing into you in one smooth thrust, both of you groaning as he stretches you open.

Your fingers are tangling in his hair, his hips moving in and out of you, starting slow, while he kisses you, his tongue sliding along yours, tasting every inch of your mouth. He picks up speed, hearing the rough sounds in his throat while he chases his high, going hard and fast, the pleasurable push and pull of his cock making your eyes roll back in your head.

You know he’s not going to last long, and you don’t care because it feels so fucking good—you love how he feels inside you, the way he fills you over and over again, his body pressed against yours, mouth devouring your own. You’re in heaven. Your orgasms have you feeling like you’re on cloud nine.

His rhythm gets jerky, his face moving to the crook of your shoulder, hearing him grunting, his breath fanning against your skin.

He pushes into you hard. “Te amo (I love you),” he groans, feeling the wet pulse as he comes deep inside your depths.

Javi collapses on top of you, panting, your fingers playing with his hair while you both come down from your highs.

He’s mumbling something that you can’t hear.

“Hmm?” you hum.

Lips touch your neck, Javi kissing your skin.

“Eres el amor de mi vida (You are the love of my life),” he said, the sound muffled.

You pulled him up to look at you, a lazy smile on his face, looking blissed out, you smiling back.

“You’re the love of my life,” you replied, kissing him.

He was mumbling again against your lips, causing you to break the kiss and meet his eyes. He was looking at you with such adoration it made you suck in a breath.

“What, baby?” You asked.

He gulped.

“¿Te casarías conmigo (Will you marry me)?” He rolled the question off his tongue. He repeated the question in English.

Your eyes went wide.

“Really?” You asked.

“Sí,” he nodded, eyes so big and round, seeing his love for you. “You would make me the happiest man on earth by marrying me. You’re my everything—mi vida (my life).”

Tears were pooling in your eyes, nodding your head, while you smiled brightly.

“Yes! Yes, I will!”

The smile he gave you was blinding the dimple in his cheek appearing as he laughed, crashing his mouth against yours.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @spanishmossmagnolia @star017 @javier-penas-wife @artsymaddie @hansolosleftbuttcheek @deadhumourist @pretty-brown-eyess @hotchlover @eternallyvenus @allfoolsinluv @eppy816 @katareyoudrilling @babykangaemoji @punkerthanpascal @breezythesimp @grimeysociety @bruxasolta @peachyaeger @din-jarhead @lovesbiggerthanpride @loonymagizoologist @pinebeam @spacenerdpascal @padbrookcottage @karlawithacapitalk @trickstersp8 @that-friend-in-the-corner @iamskyereads @beskarprincessjenny @beecastle @manuymesut @alexxavicry @leithatnight @trinkets01 @boiistfu @pedropascalsx @kulicny @xoxabs88xox @tombraider42017 @enjoyourlattebitch @MrsParknuts @totallynotastanacc @nik2blog @amneris21 @tusk89 @leed-bbg @hellf1reclub @SaintBedelia @All-the-way-down-here

#pedro pascal #javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez/reader #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez fanfiction #wheresarizona writes

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octuscle · 1 year

Text

Soccer, Football and Rugby

Foreign languages are not easy to learn. And sometimes there really are stumbling blocks. Pierre and Jules had come to Leeds as exchange students. Both were big soccer fans and looked forward to visits to the Leeds United stadium on the one hand. And on the other hand, they were looking forward to soccer training at their school. Right on the first day of school, they signed up for the team. Both were well trained and ticked off "advanced skills" and "very trained".

" Guys, you look good," their host mother said, snapping a photo as the two headed off to their first practice. She drove them to the sports field indicated for the workout, wished them both a good time, and headed out to do some shopping. Pierre and Jules walked toward the building they thought was the team cabins. And then they both realized they had something mixed up. This wasn't soccer practice. This was rugby. And this wasn't high school students training out, either. This was amateurs training out on their way to the professional leagues.

The coach was a tree of a man. He grinned when he saw the two of them. "Julian and Peter?" the coach asked. Both nodded a little intimidated. "Well, you don't exactly look like very advanced trained… But we'll get that. Go get changed, you'll find something to wear in the cabin." Julian and Peter took their breath away when they entered the cabin. First, because the air was cutting. It reeked of sweat and masculinity. But also because there seemed to be only demigods standing around them. Each at least 1.90 meters tall, muscular. And although one or the other had his nose broken several times, they all looked like models. One of the fellas grinned at the two and pointed to a pile of dirty clothes in the corner. There they should pull out something to wear. Some of it shouldn't be so filthy. The fellas laughed, Julian and Peter rummaged through the laundry with their heads turned up red. The stench of sweat was breathtaking. And they both got hard.

After a few minutes, all the crew members were standing at attention in line. Whereby Julian and Peter stood at attention the least. Their shorts and shirts, still damp from other guys' sweat, were clearly too big for both of them. But they hadn't found anything smaller. At least socks and shoes fit to some extent. During the warm-up training, it started to rain. That didn't matter to the coach, who got soaking wet himself. The team members completed a half-hour boot camp. After five minutes, Julian and Peter were both convinced they wouldn't survive the training. After 20 minutes, the shorts weren't much of a stretch at all. And after the warm-up training ended, the two did chest bumps with their pals and realized they weren't that much smaller anymore.

During technique training, the two rookies also turned out to be amazingly capable of learning. Both were fast, both had a lot of strength in their arms and upper bodies. And neither was afraid of physical contact. Although Jools has traditionally been used more as a fullback and Pete as a scrum-half, today the two were used as flankers. Both benefited from their running strength. Earlier, when they had played soccer, both had to run a lot on the field, after all.

When training was over, both were sweaty and muddy. Some clown had given them XL jerseys, which of course had been much too tight for them. After the final whistle, they both tore off their jerseys. Finally some air to breathe again! At the sight of Pete's naked torso, Jools grabbed his pants. "Damn you, you pig," Pete laughed. "Can't you wait until we're in the shower to jerk off like everyone else?"

@alphahard-on and @maennersneakersockenfuesseskins, thank you for the inspiration.

@axeegliter and @zzzinternetperson, I hope you like the result of your challenge. Even though I may not have quite hit your fantasies.

#male tf #muscle tf #age progression #tf challenge #male transformation #muscle transformation

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cialovesklopp · 9 months

Text

𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 -> 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆?

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — after the release of her latest album, amara imani has everyone questioning who she declared her love to

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 — @aechii @locedes @lorarri

masterlist

If you haven’t listened to amara imani’s newest album, “mon amour” yet, then truly … WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?

the so-called princess of pop and r&b came back nearly two years after her career and image took a major hit and released a whole new album, with more to come, to declare her undying love to her new beau.

even though the album is only a few days old, it has already climbed the charts and positioned itself on the top. after beyoncé, amara imani is the second black woman to have her entire album in the top of the charts after only a few days. and in addition to that, she broke the record of most streams in one day on spotify and apple music. it seems that everybody wants to be part of her new lovestory.

the nigerian singer wrote fourteen astonishing love ballads about love and the feeling of experiencing it and even added two more (streets, best part ft. h.e.r & daniel caesar) after the successful numbers of her album.

but the question we’ve all been asking ourselves is of course: WHO IS SHE DECLARING HER LOVE TO? we are truly dying to know who the new man is who was able to make amara imani write an entire love album for. after all, we can count on our hands how many songs ex-boyfriend evan henderson had gotten during their relationship (and not all of those were about positive things).

the singer has confirmed that there is a new man present in her life with posts, where the singer is seen with a love struck expression on her face as well as talking in about him on jimmy fallon about her new relationship but has not revealed his identity yet. imani was also spotted with a new ring on her finger, which must have certainly been a present from her new boyfriend but has not been seen with him yet in public.

but even without knowing who her new beau is, we can all be assured that he loves her if he was the inspiration for mon amour. after listening to pov and lover, i’m sure we can all agree that we all want to be loved like that.

whether amara imani has planned a world tour is unsure yet, after the events of her last one but one thing is undebatable — again, amara imani has exceeded our expectation with her love ballad album. we desperately hope to hear an announcement or confirmation soon, so we can all thank the man who made amara imani write such a beautiful masterpiece.

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚.𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢

liked by liyah_clark, harrystyles and 23.046.851

amara.imani thank u so much for allowing me to place myself next to beyoncé in history. this is truly incredible and i am thanking everyone for their support, no matter where — streets and best part OUT NOW, hope you enjoy

view all 94.502 comments

username when i say streets has become my new anthem, I MEAN IT

username FR CAUSE THAT SONG HAS NO RIGHT TO BE THAT GOOD

graceywood so proud of how the covers turned out, especially that second one 😏

amara.imani i’ll tell him that he did a good job

username NAH AMARA DOES NOT PLAY, SHE SERVED

username but also her with daniel caesar >>>> THAT SONG HAD ME IN MY FEELS

username i felt single the whole time because no one will probably ever love me like that

liyah_clark again another slayyyy, proud of you 🫶🏾

amara.imani did you force everyone to listen to it again?

charles_leclerc yes she did

maxverstappen1 THAT’S A LIE, liyah never forced us to listen, it’s all charles and his fangirling

danielricciardo you’re saying that as if you didn’t memorize the whole six minutes of rocket

username daniel exposing max for having exposed charles, THIS IS EVERYTHING

username the way i’m smiling because my two world are colliding

jkeey4 amazing song amara, another one of my faves

amara.imani thank you so much jules 🫶🏾

𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚.𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢

liked by liyah_clark, graceywood and 22.195.304 others

amara.imani karma is the guy on the screen, coming straight home to me

view all 69.241 comments

username MADAM 💀

graceywood who is that fine lady, is she single?

amara.imani sadly she is taken

username taylor x amara, a combo i never knew i needed

username bi panic immediately incoming

username you open this app and see your wife with another man 🥲

username not my queen with a m*n

liyah_clark wonder who that is 👀

charles_leclerc 👀

antogriezmann 👀

username PLEASE TELL US WHATS GOING ON

username YESS PLEASE WE ALL WANNA KNOW WHO IT IS

pierregasly stop acting dumb, we all know who it is

liyah_clark isn’t that top mine?

amara.imani maybe…

liyah_clark just wait till i get my hands on your pink louboutins

username amara, please come home, the kids miss you

username it’s useless, she’s already gone

k.mbappé posted in his story 2h ago

amara.imani reacted to your story

amara.imani is that your version of a soft launch?

k.mbappé i just spent ten minutes googling what that even is

amara.imani omg i’m dating an idiot

k.mbappé a very handsome idiot

amara.imani an idiot that is about to be single

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

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argetcross · 2 years

Photo

Happy 2nd anniversary to my zag mortal au fic, “wasting beats of this heart of mine”! I wanted to share more concepts and sketches I made over this past year with everyone. Thank you, as always, to all my kind and supportive readers, who have made these last two years so memorable and fun!

A big shoutout to @nanisnart, one of my betas, who drew the lines for the sphinx above and has been a staunch defender of sphinx time during all of Thebes. As this post lengthens, I will enclose the rest of my words below.

Over the last year, the story has continued to evolve and develop, and I’ve been very happy to finally share all of Thebes! It was a difficult year, filled with personal challenges and painful loss, and rarely enough time to write, but we managed to stagger forward regardless. Some of the chapters written this year were ones that personally meant a lot to me and I feel as if I am coming closer to understanding the heart that beats inside this story, at least a little.

Thank you to my betas this year, new and old, jules, nan, and val, who have helped me with many hours of keen insight, thoughtful conversations, and discord yelling. Thank you to everyone in the HHP, whose friendship sustained me in hard times and whose creative energy continues to inspire me. And a big eternal thank you to my partner, who has basically acted as my editor for the past two years. I have found that making art, despite the myths, grows deeper and fuller in collaboration. And of course, thank you to SGG and Hades, for all the hours of fun you have given me.

I look forward to being able to share the next part of this story of mine, as we head into next year.

#zag mortal au #hades game #thanzag #zagreus #thanatos #zagthan #callisto #sphinx of thebes #polycaste #wasting beats of this heart of mine #fanfic #my art #my fic #concept art

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ladamedusoif · 9 months

Text

Visiting - Chapter 8: Sister Winter

(Moodboard by the wonderful @cutesyscreenname)

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Chapter summary: The morning after brings complicated feelings as Ben and Lydia return to their respective families for the holiday season.

Word Count: 7.7k

Rating: Explicit (MDNI; 18+)

Content (chapter specific): Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (Lydia is 42, and Ben is 47); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; idiots-to-lovers; references to PiV sex; strong language; alcohol consumption; weight and body insecurity; serious self-esteem issues; references to panic attacks and anxiety disorders; references to the holidays; both Ben and Lydia come from families that mark Christmas; angst central.

A/N: The title of this chapter is inspired by Sufjan Stevens' eponymous song, which is one of my go-to Melancholy Winter Tracks. And yes, it was really weird writing Christmas in July.

youtube

I'm so grateful for all the love I've had for this story and for this pair. Every comment and reblog and ask is a little lift to my soul!

This chapter introduces Lydia and Ben's extended families. In addition to their chosen and found families, both in work and in their friendship groups, this pair are from closely-knit families of origin - though of course, that brings with it its own challenges.

Further A/N after the chapter to avoid spoilers.

See the Series Masterlist for an outline of Lydia's story and background.

Cross-posting to AO3.

Chapter 7 - Chapter 9

@lunapascal and @julesonrecord - thank you for cheering me on and offering wise and practical advice with this difficult chapter. @tessa-quayle - I am always so touched by your enthusiasm for these idiot dorksicles (a term I am appropriating from Jules).

Taglist:

@lunapascal, @julesonrecord, @cutesyscreenname, @tessa-quayle, @vermillionwinter, @iamskyereads, @tieronecrush, @perennialdoll247, @love-the-abyss, @imaswellkid, @intheorangebedroom, @javierisms, @fuckyeahdindjarin, @littlemisspascal, @khindahra, @pedrostories, @readingiskeepingmegoing, @ruebyretro, @rhoorl

Ben is a deep sleeper - or maybe he was just completely worn out after your exploits that night.

Either way, he doesn’t even move a muscle as you shift towards the edge of the mattress, fumbling your way out of bed and carefully tip-toeing across the floor, gathering your underwear and dress as you come across them on the floor.

The panic hit you when you woke around 5am, eyes flicking open suddenly in the dark stillness of Ben’s bedroom. The only sound was his soft, steady breathing, interspersed with the occasional tiny snore. In slumber, he somehow appeared even more handsome, more beautiful, snugly nestled into his pillow and hair sticking up at all angles. Fragments of light peeked around the edges of the blinds, picking out some of his features.

Whereas a couple of hours before his lovely face had felt like a comfort, in the wee small hours of the morning it triggered doubt. Your brain promptly forgot everything he had said about how beautiful he thought you were, how much he’d wanted you. Instead, it struck up a familiar, repetitive chorus.

He couldn’t really want you. He’s so gorgeous. You don’t deserve him. He’s sexy and kind and good and you’re a mess. Even if he thinks he wants you now, eventually he’ll realise he’s made a mistake.

In the light of day, you might have been able to muster the little tricks you’d learned in therapy to quiet the voice of your inner bully. In the early hours, vulnerable and anxious in Ben’s bed, the chorus simply grew more insistent.

So you carefully get out of bed and pick up your clothes. You pad out of the bedroom and find the bathroom, hoping that a splash of cold water might reset your thinking.

Instead, the sight of yourself in the mirror just serves as further evidence for the case against you. Your makeup is smudged, settling into every line and wrinkle. You look jowly and heavy: matronly, even, and certainly not worthy of the handsome, good man whose bed you’d shared.

You feel the defences around your heart building themselves back up again.

You shouldn’t have let them down in the first place.

Still, you seem to want to somehow change your own mind. You tip-toe back across the hallway and peer around the door into the bedroom, as if maybe seeing Ben might quell the panic that’s beating a frantic, jolting rhythm in your chest.

He’s still in the same position, his back to you as you stand at the door. There’s not a lot of him that’s visible, save for the tufts of messy hair and the outline of his broad form under the comforter.

The panic eases momentarily as you feel a surge of affection and want. For an instant, you allow yourself to remember how good it felt to make love with him, to laugh and kiss and hold and touch and fuck together.

You have to leave in a few months. It would have to end one way or another. You couldn’t face that. You couldn’t go through the pain. And what if you hurt him, too? Better to get out now.

You return to the bathroom to dress quickly and quietly. In the semi-darkness, you pad down the stairs and retrieve your shoes, bag, and coat from the hallway.

What the fuck are you doing?

“I’m getting out before he has the chance to reject me. Before we get too deep. Before I have to go home. Before it has to end. Before I hurt him.”

Before I fuck it up, like I always do. I always ruin everything.

You remember from Thanksgiving that there’s a little notepad in the kitchen, for shopping lists and reminders. You think for a few moments before writing a note to Ben, folding it over and affixing it to the front of his fridge with a magnet.

You know this is going to hurt him.

“Better than really hurting him further down the line, even if I’d never want to. I don’t deserve him.”

You try to block out the memory of the evening before, urgent declarations of want and your bodies pushed together against the hallway wall, as you quietly open the front door and leave.

His immediate instinct as he blinks awake and stretches his long arms is to reach for you, to find your soft, warm body and pull you to him for another kiss, another cuddle; another chance to feel you, so wet and tight and perfect, as he sinks back into you.

“Mmmmm. Morning, baby.” Nothing.

Ben sits up and realises he’s on his own. He wanders around the upper floor of his home, calling your name, as if he’ll summon you out of the ether by repeating it.

He moves down the stairs and into the hallway, now filled with the crisp morning light of midwinter. Still nothing.

His final hope is that you’re in the kitchen. Maybe you couldn’t sleep. Maybe you were hungry, or thirsty.

“Lyddie?”

No you. Just a note.

“What the fuck, Lyddie. What the fuck are you doing?”

He leans back against the countertop, staring at the folded piece of paper - at his name, carefully inscribed in your neat, flowing script.

Dear Ben,

Thank you for last night - it was great, really. I thought it would be easier if I just headed out. I didn’t want to wake you. Safe travels west. Happy holidays. See you soon. - L.

“Fuck.”

The thing that really drove you out of the safe warmth of Ben Morales’ arms and bed and out into the half-light of a December morning, walking home to your empty apartment alone and afraid, wasn’t your fear of fucking up - at least, not really. It was part of it, true, but what tipped the balance was not just fear, but feelings.

You pack the last of your things for the journey home for the holidays and try to ignore that simple fact. You had kept your defences up so sturdily and so dutifully for a long time, until he came along. Until you had to go catching feelings for a man who lived an entire ocean away from you.

You were frightened of fucking up because what you had - the friendship, whatever situation you entered into when he pressed his lips to yours and took you into his bed - meant the world to you. You were scared of hurting him, and of being hurt, because you cared about him so much.

It was a strange paradox: you had done something that hurt the two of you now, in order to avoid the potential for greater pain further down the line. You’d always had a natural inclination to run from things that scared or overwhelmed you, after all. In your own, tortured logic, it made sense to run from the sheer force of your feelings for Ben.

As you checked and double-checked the apartment while waiting for your cab to the airport, you remembered David’s words and felt a little guilty. You’d tried, though. You’d tried to let the light in. You just hadn’t expected it to blind you.

You’ve been avoiding your phone, save for sending a message to your family group chat to let them know you were safely en route to the airport. When your mother’s name pops up, you open the message.

MOM: Good woman, Lyd, you’re there good and early! Time to have a nice coffee and a bite to eat. Can’t wait to see you!

Your mother was always thrilled when you got to the airport ahead of schedule, knowing your propensity for last-minute panic. You had no idea how to explain to her why you were sitting, red-eyed and heartbroken, in an airside coffee shop three whole hours early.

You still hadn’t opened the two voice notes from Ben. A missed call on the phone, which you spotted after you got through security, then the two notes. Part of you had hoped that if you just ignored them long enough, they’d go away. Typical Lyd.

You take a deep breath and a sip of your enormous festive coffee, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles and reeking of peppermint syrup. You pop in your earbuds and press play.

The sound of his voice is like a knife to the heart. You’d feared anger, but instead Ben sounds like he’s aching.

“Hi, Lyddie - Lydia. I, uh, I got your note. Um. I guess I thought we were on the same page, about… about last night. Maybe not. Sorry if I got the wrong idea. I… anyway. I guess you’re on your way home now, or about to be. I’ll, um - I’ll talk to you. Happy holidays. Safe travels.”

It’s all you can do not to run out of that airport and hop into a cab back to his place, to hold him, to tell him how sorry you are, to beg him to forgive you for being a fucking idiot.

You’ve fucked it up. Told you you would.

You press play on the second voice note. His voice, still cracking a little, sounds stronger, steadier, more determined.

“Hi, just wanted to say - I don’t regret it. I don’t regret that we spent the night together. I’ll never regret that, no matter what. It meant something to me. I don’t want you to regret it, Lyd. Please.”

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you press ‘call’. He doesn’t answer.

Ben listens to your voice note again while he’s sitting in the departures lounge, a day after you’d passed through. He hasn’t slept very much in the last day and a half. This morning, when he was washing his face and trimming his beard and moustache, he was sure he’d aged a decade in the space of less than 48 hours. The delay to his flight gives him plenty of time to nurse an enormous black coffee, though he wishes it was something even stronger.

“Hi. I’m at the airport. I tried calling, but - I guess you’re busy. Or maybe you just don’t want to talk. I understand why you - listen, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what - I can explain, it’s just - it’s hard not being able to do that face to face. I promise, I can explain. I can. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Ben.”

Your voice catches at that point in the voice note, and he can hear you trying not to completely break down. It breaks his heart every time he listens to the message.

“I guess I will see you in the new year, then? I promise I’ll explain then. Safe travels west. Okay, then. Bye.”

Jet lag is a bitch. But you summon the strength and focus to slip in your earbuds in the privacy of your childhood bedroom at home, and press play on the next voice note he sent you.

You might be imagining it, but his tone is softer. He still sounds hurt, but calmer, somehow.

“Hey there. I’m just about to fly out. I got your message and - yeah. Probably best to see how things are in January. Maybe it’ll be good to have some space, clear our heads. Anyway.” He pauses, his voice quieter. “It’s good to hear your voice, Lyd.”

Oh, fuck. He wants space. Fuck. That’s not good.

You take three attempts at your response before you manage to record a coherent message.

“Hey. I hope the flights are okay, and that you get there safely. Yeah - um, yeah. Space, clear our heads. So, guess I’ll give you your space, until I see you and can explain. And it’s so good to hear your voice, too.”

You press send, your eyes glancing over the little round picture of Ben at the top of the screen. You say the words you’d left unsaid at the end of your message.

“God, I miss you, darling.”

TJ Morales waits inside the arrivals hall at San Francisco International with his twelve year old twin sons, Dylan and Carlos. There’s only eighteen months between TJ - Thomas Juan, to give him his full name - and his older brother, and despite living on opposite sides of the country for a decade, they’re very close. It’s become an annual tradition, when Ben returns for the holidays, for TJ and the boys to pick him up.

This year, the three are decked out in an array of Star Wars-themed Christmas shirts to welcome Ben home: Dylan’s printed with a pattern of C3PO in a Santa hat, Carlos wearing a shirt emblazoned with Chewbacca wrapped in fairy lights, and their father wearing a pattern rather sweetly titled ‘We Wish You A Merry Sithmas’.

The running joke in the family was that TJ was the ‘cool brother’, a title he’d given himself when they were in middle school, much to the amusement of their parents. In many ways, that dynamic held fast to the present day. TJ, with his laidback personality, his long dark locks and neat beard, his array of plaid shirts, band T-shirts, and casual hoodies, still seemed to embody West Coast cool in a way that his more serious, anxious brother didn’t. His job certainly helped - a sound engineer for a video game studio, the kind of job both boys could have only dreamed of as they hid their shared Game Boy from their younger sister, Teresa.

Even so, as Ana Morales liked to remind people when she spoke about her sons, when she’d asked a three year old TJ what he wanted to be when he grew up, his answer was clear: “I wanna be like Ben.”

The sliding doors open and passengers begin to stream out, excitedly greeted by their families and friends. The two boys keep watch at the barrier, their dark curls bobbing up and down as they compete to spot their beloved tío first.

“Tío Ben!!”

Carlos wins this year, waving frantically to his uncle as he pushes his luggage trolley through the doors.

Ben grins widely as he wraps an arm around each of his nephews, ruffling their hair as they show off their new holiday shirts. TJ throws his arms around his big brother, embracing him tightly. “Welcome home, hermano. We missed you.”

As he pulls away, TJ notices how tired Ben looks. His smile, genuine as it is, doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You okay, Ben?” he asks in a low voice as they follow the boys out of the terminal and in the direction of the parking lot.

Ben nods, putting his arm around his brother as they walk. “I’m okay. Just tired. It’s been a long semester. I’m so glad to be home with you guys - it’s been forever.”

“Can I ask you something, Lyd?”

Your younger - only - sibling, Kate, is bouncing her one year old daughter Evie on her lap while Cora, her older girl, dances around the room and sings along to Encanto.

“We don’t talk about Bru- sure, of course. What’s up?”

“Are you alright? You’re normally full of energy when you’re home for the holidays and you just seem - I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like someone’s turned down your brightness.”

You haven’t said anything to Kate about Ben - well, nothing more than acknowledging him as part of the wider group of friends you’d established at Barrow. You certainly haven’t told her about your growing closeness, or what had happened, or - god forbid - your feelings for him.

It wasn’t that you two weren’t close enough for sharing that kind of confidence. You’d been brought even closer together since your ex-partner had cheated and left. You just felt like if you actually articulated the words, it would make it too real. Too much. Too fragile, too likely to disappear like every other crush or love affair you’d ever had.

“I’m just tired, I think. It was a lot in a few months - moving there, adjusting to a new environment, meeting all those new people, doing new classes. You know I’m always wrecked at the end of the semester.”

Kate raises an eyebrow sceptically while Evie chews on a giraffe-shaped teething toy. “There’s something off.”

You exhale, frustrated. “I’m fine.”

“Did you meet someone?”

Your eyes widen. How the FUCK does she know?

“I don’t know what the hell you’re on about. What gives you that idea?”

“You were happy when we’d talk and FaceTime. You were always so excited going out with your new friends. And now you’re back here you’re tired and gloomy. It just makes me wonder, you know - was there more than intellectual stimulation going on over there. If you know what I mean.”

You roll your eyes. “Jesus, Kate.”

“They’re working you too hard, Benjamin. Doesn’t your poor brother look tired, Thomas?”

TJ exhales and takes a sip of his coffee. He was used to the annual routine - their mother fussing over Ben like he’d been thoroughly neglected since the last time he was home.

“I asked him earlier and he said he was fine. Didn’t you, B?”

Ben nods. “I’m fine, mom.”

Ana Morales does not seem convinced. “Well, you’ve got a couple of weeks now to rest up. We’ll take care of you.”

TJ shoots a look at the twins, who giggle conspiratorially.

The door into the kitchen opens and Lucy, TJ’s wife, staggers in carrying a precarious stack of lilac-coloured cake boxes printed with the logo for Pun in the Oven, her bakery and coffee shop in the city. Ben and TJ immediately stand up to relieve her of the burden, placing the boxes on the kitchen table as Lucy - or as she’s more usually called, Luce - wipes her brow and grins in the direction of her brother-in-law.

“BENJAMIIIIIIIIN!” She grabs Ben and pulls him in for a hug, smiling widely. “Missed you, man!”

Ben smiles softly at her in turn. “You look great, Luce. Any new tattoos since I saw you last?”

Luce arches an eyebrow and holds out her left hand, revealing a simple outline of a heart in purple ink in the space between her index finger and thumb.

“Hope you don’t mind, dude. Took some inspiration from your bullseye for this one, just because I always thought the placement was cool.”

Ben spreads the fingers on his left hand, flexing his thumb slightly as he looks at the small bullseye tattoo he had done during his junior year abroad.

“I’m honoured. Any chance your husband might get a matching one, eh?”

Luce giggles and wraps an arm around TJ. “You know he hates needles. He got our initials done, that was enough for me. He was so brave.” She plants a kiss to TJ’s cheek, triggering dry-heaving noises from their sons.

Ana surveys the stack of cake boxes on her table. “You didn’t need to, Luce. This is far too much.”

Luce shakes her head and holds up her hands. “Nonsense. Just a couple of the leftovers from today and a few extra batches of the holiday specials I threw in this morning. Plus, for the homecoming…”

She lifts the lid on one of the boxes and pushes it in Ben’s direction.

“Coffee and walnut - your favourite.”

Ben’s eyes light up and he hugs his sister-in-law. “This is the best gift I could ask for. Thanks, Luce.”

“Don’t you think he looks tired, Luce? He needs to rest, poor boy.” Ana tilts her head at Ben, who is already searching for a knife to cut a slice of the cake.

Luce does think Ben looks tired, but there’s something else that’s just not quite right. A sadness, somewhere, or a resurgence of his anxiety. You can see it in his eyes. Maybe her husband knows more.

“We’ll look after him.”

There’s always been something special about Christmas Eve. As a child it was the anticipation and excitement for the day to come, desperate to go to bed but too excited to sleep. As an adult, drafted in to help prep the food for the next day’s dinner, you peeled potatoes, sliced carrots, and monitored the turkey slowly cooking in the oven while listening to carols and Christmas songs on the radio.

More than that, there was something in the air - maybe not ‘magic’, contrary to the message pushed in every TV ad since November. But possibility: of transformation, of newness, of togetherness, whether with blood family, found family, or whatever community you chose for yourself.

Or, just maybe, you’d completely internalised A Christmas Carol. Never mind Charles Dickens, that was mostly the Muppets’ fault.

The arrival of your little nieces in recent years has brought back some of the old traditions from your own childhood. You’d been followed around for most of the day by Cora, who had turned three a few months before.

“How does Santa bring all the things, Auntie Lyd?”

You smile and continue peeling potatoes. “I think he has some magic that lets him have a really big sleigh that just carries all the toys for everyone.”

“But then it’s too big and won’t fly.”

“No, it will. Because it’s magic.”

“But then he has’ta come down the chimley.” She gazes up at you, narrowing her eyes. “Should just use the magic to put the presents down.”

You’re stuck there. Thankfully, your brother-in-law Marc arrives in search of another slice of cake, and you palm her off on her daddy.

With Cora and Evie safely in bed and asleep, you and your parents help your sister and her husband set up the living room, carefully setting out the Santa gifts and filling the little stockings embroidered with each girl’s name.

Marc takes a careful bite out of the slice of cake and drains the glass of port left at the fireplace. “I don’t know how he isn’t absolutely rat-arsed, with all the port and whiskey and that being left out for him. No wonder he’s falling down chimneys.”

With your parents gone to bed, and Marc watching Die Hard on a random movie channel, you and your sister unwind for a bit with tea and Christmas cookies. She eyes you up, as if steeling herself to make a confession. Or, as it turns out, to encourage you to make one.

“So, who is he?” Kate poses the question at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around her gigantic Christmas mug of tea.

You put down your own mug and sigh.

One of Cora’s favourite questions about Santa Claus is how he does it all in one night. Apart from magic, which even at three she seems sceptical about, you tend to cite time zones as an explanation.

After all, how else could Cora and Evie be already starting to wake up to their gifts on one side of the world, while Santa hasn’t yet visited the extended Morales clan on the other?

With Luce and TJ hosting Christmas this year, they extended an invitation to Ben and Ana to stay with them on Christmas Eve. In truth, they hoped being roped in for an 80s Christmas movie marathon with his nephews would help distract Ben a little. Maybe even get him in the holiday mood.

By 11pm, Lucy has finished the prep for tomorrow’s meal and is shooing her sons to their beds. Their grandmother retired a couple of hours before to the guest bedroom, carrying a dog-eared copy of A Christmas Carol - she likes to read the last couple of chapters every Christmas Eve, even if Tiny Tim always makes her cry.

“I’m going to head up, babe - don’t stay up too late. You have all the stuff for the sofa bed, Ben?”

Ben turns to acknowledge his sister-in-law, nodding. “All here. Thanks, Luce, it’s really nice spending Christmas Eve with you guys.”

She smiles warmly. “It’s our pleasure. Teej, I’ll see you in a bit? G’night, Ben. Merry Christmas.”

The Morales boys are sitting on TJ’s couch, each drinking a beer while Scrooged plays, quietly, on the TV.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” TJ runs a finger along the condensation on his bottle of beer, sleeves rolled up on his blue flannel.

Ben fiddles with the cuff of his own, pine-green checked shirt. “As in…?”

His younger brother fixes him with a glare.

“As in what - or should I say, who’s - on your mind?”

“He’s called Ben. He’s a literature professor at Barrow.”

“Her name is Lyddie - I mean, Lydia. She’s a visiting professor. I’m sure I’ve mentioned her?”

“I met him on the very first day. He was my - what did he call himself? - my ‘welcome wagon’.”

“We went to dinner, as we normally do with the visiting people. And we just…man. Clicked. As friends.”

“I mean, I made a Big Night reference and he got it? Honestly, I hadn’t had such a good time in…I can’t remember. I told him about what happened - the shit hitting the fan, and all that.”

“I guess we just started hanging out. Having coffee, talking - just friendly stuff, you know? She was new, we had a lot in common. I - I liked having her around.”

“He was so sweet to me when I was settling in. Like, I have made some really good friends over there. But sometimes he’d bring me coffee in the afternoon, and - I dunno, I started to look forward to it.”

“She’s unbelievably smart, TJ. Doesn’t think it. Always puts herself down. Same as when you try to tell her she’s pretty. But she’s so fucking bright, I swear to god. And she has the best taste in movies and music. And she is pretty. More than pretty.”

“And he’s so kind and giving. He’s running this whole diversity programme to try to make Barrow less white and wealthy and he’s had so much shit about it from fucking dickheads who think Ben’s not as good as them because he’s Latino and because his parents had to fucking work hard for a living. Assholes. All that and he’s really goddamn handsome.”

“And she’s a bit of a firecracker when she wants to be. You know that culture war idiot Lacroix? She just went for him at the away day because he was giving me shit.”

“He’s so fucking funny. The biggest dork you’ve ever seen. Actually did a ‘reeling you in’ dance at my birthday drinks to get me on the dancefloor. Once, he laughed so hard in my office that his glasses flew off his face. Hanging out with him is - was - so great.”

“She’s got this knack of knowing how to lift my spirits. I said to her one day that I’ve never laughed as much in work before - I meant before her.”

“I was the only person to get who he’d dressed up as for Halloween. That was a fun night - at Evan’s. You know Evan. You’re mutuals with Evan on Instagram, right? We were a little bit merry. Well, a lot merry. It sounds so fucking dumb but we touched and I swear I could feel electricity going off in my brain, and I…I hadn’t experienced that in years. Years.”

“Had her on my lap on the ride home from Evan’s. I put it down to being a bit drunk on Spooky Margs but honestly, I didn’t want to let her go when we got to her place. I’ll explain the Spooky Marg another time, man, you do not want to know.”

“We do - did - a lot of movie nerding out together. Did I show you the gifts he got me for my birthday? And the card? He got me a Hitchhiker’s Guide card. Y’know, because -”

“42. The answer to the ultimate question. She’s 42. I don’t think I said that to you. I guess I should have known there was something there the day I ordered that card, huh.”

“I knew there was something there on my birthday, for sure. And dancing with him, to that song - fuck. For a couple of minutes I just let myself pretend, you know? But he never did anything more, not that night.”

“I wasn’t drinking when we went out for her birthday, but she was. So I didn’t want to make a move, in case she wasn’t interested and felt I was trying to take advantage. But I wish I had.”

“He ended up alone in Barrow for Thanksgiving, so he invited me to come over. I’m sure I told you about this? The parade, the movie? Well, it was - it was really nice. God, that’s such a shit way of explaining it. It was just -”

“Mom did a video call, remember? And she saw her and she was all nice as pie and then she was giving me shit about whether Lydia was my girlfriend, and why wasn’t she my girlfriend because she was so pretty and so funny, and - god. You know what she’s like.”

“And all day I kept thinking ‘I wish I could tell you how I feel’, and then I’d remember I was just fucking visiting. I’m temporary. It’s temporary, by default. And he couldn’t want someone like me. And you know I can’t go through that hurt again. You know, Kate. You saw me at my lowest.”

“I did think about asking her out that evening, TJ. I did. But she’d said some stuff about being ‘good friends’ or something, and I just thought it was safer not to. I didn’t want to ruin what we already had. You know? She probably wasn’t interested, that’s what I thought.”

“I went to give him a kiss on the cheek to say thank you.”

“I turned to meet her. I wanted it, wanted to kiss her.”

“And we kissed, accidentally. For a couple of seconds. At least, I thought it was accidental. Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t long.”

“I wasn’t brave enough to kiss her like she ought to be kissed. She panicked and I thought she didn’t want it.”

“I should have kept kissing him.”

“We didn’t see each other for a couple of weeks, between conferences and travel. And fuck it, I missed her.”

“We messaged all the time and I still missed him. We didn’t talk about Thanksgiving. Not until - well.”

“So I told her I meant it. Meant to kiss her.”

“I don’t know what it is but tying a man’s tie is so intimate and so hot and - yep. We kissed properly.”

“We ended up back at my place the night before she went home.”

“We…we were together, the night before I came back over here.”

“I’m not being ‘coy’, TJ. I - okay, we slept together. Happy now?”

“Yes, okay, yes, we slept together that night, at his place.”

“And I asked her to stay. I wanted her to stay over. I was ready to drive her home and get her stuff. I would have gone to the fucking airport with her. Anything.”

“I woke up in the early hours and I just - fuck. I just lost it. I flipped. All the dark shit just came roaring back up.”

“She left a note. I couldn’t believe it.”

“The sex was not bad, fuck off! I can’t believe I’m about to say these words to my baby sister but - best sex I’ve ever had. Four times. Four fucking times.”

“I know I’m blushing, dude. It was really, really fucking good. Really good.”

“Who am I, Kate? A fucking cliché? I left him a fucking note? All because I couldn’t handle having real fucking feelings, because I knew I’d fuck it up. Like I always do. And oh look - SHE FUCKED IT UP. Again.”

“I really thought we were on the same page, you know?”

“He left me a voice note. Here, listen.”

“I tried calling her, but she was already at the airport.”

“I called him back. No answer.”

“I don’t think I would have been able to speak to her. She left me a voice note, too.”

“It would be easier to explain in person, right? Wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe we needed the space and time apart, anyway. Especially if she regrets it.”

“He said we could do with the space. He said he hopes I don’t regret it. How could I ever regret that, with him? I’ve fucked it up, Kate. I know it would have been pointless anyway with the temporary visiting stupid situation, but - still. I ruined everything.”

Kate reaches over to pat the back of your hand, her festive, red and green manicure glittering as the light bounces off her nails.

“You probably didn’t, love. You always think you did. Can I - can I see a picture of him, if you have one? Want to see this nerdy sex god for myself.”

You open your phone and swipe through your pictures, finding one you’d taken of Ben on Thanksgiving. He’s holding his plate stacked with blueberry pancakes, smiling and bespectacled on the couch as you watch the Macy’s parade.

“Here he is.”

Kate studies the image carefully, eyebrows raised. She zooms in and out a couple of times.

“Well, hello, gorgeous! He’s handsome. Really handsome. Look at that smile, whew. And those eyes!” She zooms in and out again.

“May I remind you that you are a married mother of two?”

“I can look and appreciate, can’t I?” She swats the air as if brushing your comment away. “Fuck, it’s like someone engineered him in a lab for you. He even kinda looks like a mature version of those imaginary boyfriends you used to draw in your diary when you were thirteen.”

“He is fucking handsome, isn’t he? He’s so - wait, what? How did you know about those?”

Your sister rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Bitch, I read that thing cover to cover. You were so dramatic. Still are. You got any of the two of you together?”

You open your photos and pull up the photos Ani took of you and Ben dancing the night of your birthday drinks. “These are probably the best.”

Kate’s expression changes when she swipes through the set of pictures, zooming in every so often to look at your and Ben’s expressions more carefully. She looks up at you, hands you back the phone, and looks like she might cry.

“You okay?”

“Fucking hell, Lyd, you’ve got it bad. Both of you - I mean, look at the two of you! I know they’re just pictures but on top of everything you’ve said? I don’t think he’s just got a ‘thing’ for you, I think he’s really into you.” She chews on a cookie. “Remind me what you said in the note again.”

You recount the contents of the missive.

“It’s just… you clearly have serious feelings for him. You’ve told me all these things about this wonderful guy. You told me it was the best sex you’ve ever had. And then you say ‘it was great’ to him in a shitty note?! I can understand why he’s pissed off.”

“I screwed this up, didn’t I?”

Kate throws her head back in frustration. “Still dramatic. You screwed it up a bit, but - surely he’s not that much of an asshole that he wouldn’t hear you out?” She drains the last of her tea from the mug. “Admittedly if it wasn’t Christmas, I’d be putting you on a flight to San Fran. However - talk when you get back. Explain face to face. Don’t assume the worst. I don’t think he can turn off his feelings that easily.”

“You don’t know that she regrets it. You don’t even know why she left without saying goodbye. You said she’d had some rough shit in the last couple of years. She said the night together was great in the note, didn’t she? And she’s been in touch, so… I dunno, man. I wouldn’t write her off.”

TJ takes the last swig from his bottle of beer and slaps his brother on the thigh.

“Can I see a photo of this Lydia, then?”

Ben sighs and digs around in his jeans pocket for his phone. He chooses the one he’d taken of you on Thanksgiving, sitting in the diner with your grilled cheese sandwich and basket of fries. You’re still wearing your glasses after the movie, smiling at him in your thick cable-knit sweater.

“That’s Lyddie - I mean, Lydia on Thanksgiving. She made that sweater herself, you know. She’s a talented woman.”

TJ smiles as he studies your features, zooming in a little on your bright, happy face.

“She’s a pretty woman, too. Beautiful smile, gorgeous eyes - kind-looking, and you just know she’s smart and funny as hell.” He turns to his older brother, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders. “Your girl is lovely, Hubbell.”

Ben smiles and huffs a laugh at the reference. “Quoting The Way We Were at me? Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, Ana Morales has good taste in movies! Remember the VHS copy she always used to put on and cry at?”

Ben smiles at the memory. He turns to TJ, eyes full of emotion - worry, sadness, and affection. For his little brother, of course - but for you, too.

“I mean it, Ben. She is lovely. She sounds lovely - disappearing act aside, of course. And the way she’s looking at you in that picture - fuck, man. You can just see how much she likes you. You’ve every right to be hurt and angry, but - maybe don’t give up on her. You’re both too fucking old to let a chance like this slide, bro. Don’t let her go.”

Christmas Day is a chaotic whirlwind of overexcited nieces, a family dinner delivered like a military operation, and fighting over what to watch on TV. Same as it ever was.

It’s nice. It’s comforting. But you’re impossibly lonely, embrace of a loving (if stress-inducing) family unit aside.

Since you’d cut and run a few days before, the steady stream of communication back and forth between you and Ben had essentially ceased, save for the voice notes. It’s become such second nature to you, the constant contact, and the rupture is all the more brutal as a result.

In the early hours of Christmas morning, lying wide awake in your old bed, you remember that during the Apollo missions to the moon they had a thing called LOS, or Loss of Signal. When orbit took the craft to the dark side of the moon, all communication between Mission Control and the astronauts became impossible for a time.

LOS was nerve-wracking, particularly in the first attempts at lunar orbit. What if they never re-established contact? What if something happened on the dark side, leaving the crew lost forever while the rest of the world carried on? You have heard the recordings, the hiss of static fraying the nerves of those on the ground awaiting the return of the signal, the sound of a voice spinning through the vastness of space.

You’re in extended LOS, you realise. In spite of yourself, you smile, thinking how in any other circumstances Ben - with his Saturn V model and his Apollo 11 sweatshirt - would love the analogy.

“Did you send him a happy Christmas message yet?”

Kate doesn’t even look at you as she says it, all casual. She’s too busy scraping the remains of the Christmas dinner off the plates before stacking them in the dishwasher.

“The fuck?” Her ability to read your mind is starting to become disturbing.

She swivels. “Did you send Ben a message wishing him a happy Christmas? If I was you I’d take a nice picture and send it. You look cute in that dress.”

“Do you think he wants a Christmas message from me? I doubt it. He wants space.”

Kate closes the dishwasher and presses the start button.

“I don’t think he knows what he wants, probably. Other than you. I’m sure he wants you, going on the way he looked at you in those pictures.”

You make a whining noise. “That was before.”

“You and your apocalyptic thinking. Unfortunately, Lyd, if you want to fix this you’re going to have to be the one leading the fixing. Start with a message.”

She sidles over to the kitchen counter, where your phone is safely tucked away to avoid doom-scrolling, picking it up and waving it menacingly.

“If you don’t, I will.”

“FINE. But I’m not sending him a cute selfie, that’s ludicrous.”

You retreat to your room. It takes you a full half-hour to pick a photo and compose a message.

A notification appears at the top of your screen.

KATE: SEND THAT FUCKING MESSAGE

Breathe. Send. Run away.

Ben sneaks another buñuelo from the pile made by his mother earlier that Christmas morning. The sweet, spicy kick of the cinnamon sugar with the fried dough lifts his spirits - as does the sight of his three niblings side by side on the couch, engrossed in a game on Dylan and Carlos’s Nintendo Switch. A twin sits on either side of their youngest cousin, Julia - Jules to all - and helps her manoeuvre the controller and work her way through the game.

Newly-turned seven, and the daughter of Teresa Morales and her Irish husband Pádraig, Jules might be the youngest in the family but is a tiny force of nature. Though he didn’t have favourites among the three, Ben had a special connection with Jules, who routinely mailed him letters and drawings every couple of weeks. He would diligently respond with a hand-written letter, usually enclosing a couple of packs of stickers or a new book for her to read.

“I’M BORED NOW.” Jules hops off the couch and saunters over to her tío Ben, who’s sitting at the table in the dining room off Luce and TJ’s living room. “Can I have a buñuelo?”

He brushes cinnamon sugar out of his moustache and off his dark red sweater, and looks over at his sister, who rolls her eyes and nods in resignation. “Your mom says yes, so…” He holds out the plate.

Jules scrunches her nose up in delight as she takes a bite, then cocks her head as she studies her uncle. “I think you might be sad.”

This is a perceptive kid, Ben thinks.

“I’m okay, Jules. Just a little tired.”

She chews another bite of her snack and shakes her head. “No. I think you’re sad. I can make you happy, though!” She makes a serious face. “Wait here, okay?”

She returns carrying a bundle of brightly-coloured hair clips and what looks suspiciously like a couple of bottles of nail polish.

“Mama always says she feels happier when she gets her hair done. And has her pretty nails.”

The little girl perches herself on a chair, sets out her equipment, and gets to work, tongue peeking out as she concentrates on painting Ben’s nails (she adds a glittery topcoat for extra effect) and carefully placing hair clips in his hair.

“Everyone, tell tío he looks pretty!”

The rest of the extended Morales clan turn to look at Ben. Dylan and Carlos immediately grab their phones to take photos. TJ raises his eyebrows and nods approvingly.

“That makeover stays put for the rest of the day, Ben.” Teresa is deadly serious, not wanting her little girl to see her handiwork undone.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Thank you, Jules. I feel much better.”

You allow yourself a glance at your phone later that evening, a glass of champagne lending you some extra courage.

Still nothing.

You cast a glance at the contents of the little gift box Ben had left for you before leaving Barrow. A beautiful, dark red notebook, subtly personalised with your initials in embossed lettering - and a set of Nouvelle Vague-themed film button badges.

“Stupendous as always, Luce!”

Ben and TJ carry stacks of empty dinner plates into the kitchen, the family well-fed and content after their Christmas meal of beef and a seemingly endless selection of side dishes.

Lucy is preparing dessert, which mostly consists of the cakes and cookies left over at Pun in the Oven when they closed for the holiday the day before, served with ice cream and fresh fruit.

“Your mom did a lot of the work, guys. Can’t take all the credit. Hey, TJ, can you carry this cake stand in with you? Thanks, babe.”

She notices that Ben has a somewhat wistful expression on his face as he sorts out the dirty dishes.

“Hey, I just wanted to say - I asked TJ if he knew what was going on with you, and…”

Ben nods and smiles. “He told you.”

“I’m with him, Benjamin. From what you told TJ, I think this is worth fighting for. Or at least, it’s worth giving her a chance to explain properly.”

He casts his gaze downwards. “You know, when I saw those photos the boys took of my ‘makeover’, the first thing that popped into my mind was ‘I better send these to Lyd’.”

“You miss her.” Luce pats him on the back. “So why don’t you? Send them, I mean.”

Ben turns to her in astonishment. “Seriously? We said we were giving each other space, time… and I’m still not sure what she wants.”

His sister-in-law rolls her eyes. “If you don’t send her a happy holidays message with one of those pictures - I will. And you know I don’t fuck around.”

He stands with one hand on his hip, bringing the other up to cover his face. “I know you don’t. Shit. Okay. I’ll do it. But only so you - or worse, TJ - don’t.”

Luce does a tiny dance for joy as Ben turns to leave. She spots - and recognises - a baby pink no-crease hair clip sticking out of his dark hair at the back of his head.

“JULES, have you been in our room??”

Ben settles himself at the desk in his brother’s home office, where he’d deliberately left his phone all day. He’s still not convinced that Luce is right about sending this, but she’s a woman of her word.

He holds your gift to him, unopened, in his hands. He unwraps it quickly.

A pair of brightly-coloured socks, patterned with books and pens. And a soft, hand-knitted, merino watchcap in a Prussian blue, with a little tag stitched inside: Hand Knitted by Me.

He didn’t expect your name to be there, waiting for him, when he turned over his phone.

You had chosen a slightly chaotic photo of yourself that your brother-in-law had taken, of Cora bopping you in the face while trying to stick a huge bow on you. It would at least, you hoped, make him smile.

Happy Christmas, Ben. I was injured in a gifting incident earlier today. - L.

He selects a photo of himself showing off his painted nails, his hair festooned with coloured clips, while Jules beams in the background at her handiwork.

Merry Christmas, Lyd. I got a holiday makeover courtesy of Jules. - B.

You each hope that the other will somehow be able to read, in the gaps, the words left invisible:

I’m so sorry.

I don’t know why you did it.

I care so much about you.

I really miss you.

I think about you all the time.

I want you.

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more; other dividers by @cafekitsune)

Further A/N: TJ's 'Your girl's lovely, Hubbell' is, of course, a reference to The Way We Were.

#visiting fic #visiting masterlist #mr ben snl #mr ben au #mr ben x ofc #mr ben fanfic #professor ben x ofc #professor!ben #professor!ben x ofc #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedrostories #Youtube

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