#I'm staring off the week with a hot take and i actually might write a Ted POV fanfic thing on this cause i love the idea of it A LOT

[wxshing-aep]

The Prom Committee (pt 1)

Ethan Morales x fem!reader

based on this request:

"how about one where y/n runs an after school club so Ethan keeps getting detention on purpose to see her because he thinks “clubs are for dorks” to quote Paxton and so his reputation as the bad boy isn’t ruined"

Warnings: swearing, banter, the word boobs

AN: decided to make it a 2 parter cause it was getting long while I was writing it and wanted to give Ethan more depth of character than the actually show so part 2 coming tmrw probs!

When his assignment was handed back by Señora Diaz upside down, Ethan wasn't surprised by the big F glaring back at him in red ink when he turned the page over.

“Stupid bitch” he muttered under his breath.

“In Español, Ethan” Señora Diaz paused on her way back to the blackboard, unsure of what he said but certain that it wasn't in Spanish.

“Sorry" he retorted and she continued her route back to the front of the classroom.

"perra estúpida”

“ethan!”

That’s how Ethan ended up in detention for the umpteenth time in his academic career, tapping his pen on the desk in the nearly empty classroom with Mr. Shapiro's happy go-lucky self staring back at him.

"Well, happy to have you here Ethan!" Mr. Shapiro greets picking up a clipboard from his desk. "Not happy to be here" Ethan deadpanned. "Sorry to hear that. Not sure how you managed to get detention during the first week of school, but hey I think that might be a new Sherman Oaks record! Congrats buddy!" Mr. Shapiro cheers before realizing the younger boy is not the slightest bit amused. "Alright, tough crowd."

"Moving right along then," Mr. Shapiro clicks a pen in his hand "time to take roll!" which causes Ethan to look around the empty classroom.

"...I'm literally the only one here"

"I know, I just love checking things off lists," Mr. Shapiro clears his throats " so do I have a Morales comma Ethan?"

"seriously dude?"

"Second call for Ethan Morales"

"you're gonna keep going til I say here, aren't you?"

"You betcha!"

"Here."

"Awesome!" Mr. Shapiro marks a giant check by the one name on his attendance sheet. "god I love doing that- Alright so unfortunately I've gotta skidaddle to help out with the faculty potluck but lucky for you sir we're implementing more of a reformative detention style this year!"

"What the hell does that mean" Ethan asked.

"It means, that instead of sitting here for the next few hours, you my friend, get to offer your help to one of the after school clubs or committees that are a bit low on helping hands" Shapiro responds with finger guns. "so guess who's today's newest member of the prom committee!"

"yea, no. I'm not joining some stupid after school club. clubs are for dorks, losers, and ugly people" Ethan responds grabbing his backpack out of the chair next to him to get up and leave.

"well actually it's a committee"

"even worse"

"Alrighty well I can see what the other options-" is all Mr Shapiro gets out before he is interrupted by your voice from the doorway.

"Oh- hey! Mr. Shapiro, did you find anyone to help with the prom posters? Eric said he'd help me out but then canceled cause he said he had to train with the assistant swim coach to quote make Michael Phelps my bitch end quote. Whatever that means, so I'm kinda flying solo here" You say, drawing Ethan's attention towards you as well.

hot damn. okay maybe after school activities are not only for ugly people. He thinks you might be the prettiest girl he's ever seen and definitely takes a mental note of your outfit that's hugging you in all the right places. He quickly realizes that he doesn't know your name and has no idea how he's never been informed of your existence prior to this moment. He's snapped back to reality by Mr. Shapiro responding to your question. "Ah- I'm sorry but Ethan is-"

"super excited to help decorate for prom" Ethan finds himself blurting out before Mr. Shapiro could finish his sentence.

"Oh- well that's great! Uh Ethan just report back by 6 so I can log your hours! I'm gonna get going, you kids have fun decorating. Go crickets!" Mr. Shapiro says, making his exit as you watch him almost skip down the hall.

"Sup, I'm Ethan" Your attention is brought back to the brown eyed curly haired boy who's suddenly standing in front of you (how the hell did he cross the room that fast, you wonder) with an outstretched hand. He never really shakes hands, he just wanted an excuse to touch you. He's cute, you note mentally. You accept the offer and shake his hand. "and you are?" he continues.

"I'm-" you pause noticing those not so innocent brown eyes are directed elsewhere, "acutely aware of the fact that you're staring at my boobs".

Ethan thinks his brain might've just short circuited cause he was definitely just caught red handed. He'd recently grown a lot more confident with girls since his summer growth spurt and subsequent glow up had dramatically increased the number of girls interested in him, but there was something about you and how you so deliberately called him out that had definitely thrown him off his game.

"Sorry- I uh- I was actually looking at your shirt. They're- It's nice" he wants to die he thinks.

You chuckle at his sudden change in demeanor. "Hmm. Yea, I know they are" you respond, turning on a heel and heading toward the auditorium.

"You comin or what?"

-

For one person, you had made pretty okay progress in a week. The current task at hand was making posters to get people excited for the theme reveal. The ground was littered with several half finished or barely started posters.

"Can you draw?" You asked Ethan.

"I'm not much of an artist"

"Really? the graffiti on the side of the school says otherwise. Your handwriting definitely sucks though so I'll do that, but the art's good and if you can do it with a spray can, you can definitely do it with some paint and markers" your unsolicited review of his graffiti made him crack a smile. His latest act of defiance had been a giant snake comically eating a cricket accompanied with the words "get fucked" on the side of the school building.

"You can't prove that was me" he challenges.

"Maybe not, but Mr. Shapiro had mentioned that I might have a detention helper today thanks to Señora Diaz and I happened to notice the words 'stupid bitch' spray painted on her car containing the same weird ass t's as the graffiti on the side of the school and here you are, Ethan."

"Damn, you're good" he pauses realizing he can't throw your name back at you because he still doesn't know it.

"Y/n" you say quietly.

"Huh?"

"My name's y/n"

Pretty name for a pretty girl, he thought.

"Alright y/n. I'll draw as long as I don't have to to touch any glitter. that shit's impossible to get off"

"deal"

"and I don't write my t's weird"

"you write your t's like a crazy person"

-

Time was pretty much flying by. Together you'd gotten nearly twenty posters done and were slowly finding out more information about each other. You were informed about some of Ethan's tattoos and how he'd actually drawn the designs for all of them himself. Not an artist, my ass, you thought. Ethan learned that he hadn't met you before because you'd previously been homeschooled and had all but begged your parents to be able to go to school with other kids for your senior year until they finally cracked and agreed to enroll you at Sherman Oaks.

"Ah I see, you're a total secret weirdo. That explains your freaky detective skills" he teases.

"I am not a secret weirdo. I just like criminal minds and puzzles"

"You were homeschooled. All homeschooled kids are a little weird"

"That's an unfair stereotype"

"Whatever you say, y/n"

"If anything you're the secret weirdo. or at least an undercover art nerd"

"I'm not an undercover art nerd"

"Yea you are. Something tells me this whole" you gestured largely to him sitting a couple feet away from you, "tortured angsty hot skater boy thing you've got going on is a pretty recent development" you comment absent-mindedly. You looked back up from your poster when he didn't respond to see him sitting there, arms crossed with a smug grin on his face.

"What?" you prodded.

"You totally just called me hot"

You're now very aware that he's a bit closer to you than he was before.

"mm don't think so"

"oh you definitely did"

"did not"

"did too"

"did not" that one came out much less confidently considering his hand had made its way to your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. damn, he's good.

"whatever you say, y/n" he almost whispers. have his eyes been that sparkly this whole time? He's leaning in and you're definitely not backing away. You're maybe a centimeter away from his lips until the alarm blaring from your phone, which seemed like much better idea hours ago, sent you flying back from him and scared the shit out of both you.

"shit- I- god that scared me, I uh set an alarm for 6 so you'd remember to check in with Mr. Shapiro cause, ya know, I thought we'd both probably be busy. Um- busy making posters, i mean. Obviously I mean making posters cause we definitely wouldn't be busy doing anything else so-" you ramble.

The smug little smirk has made its way back onto Ethan's face as he is quite enjoying this role reversal from your first interaction of the day.

"shut up" you say to him.

"I didn't even say anything" he responded, hands in the air in surrender.

"I've gotta head home, but thanks for helping out even though you basically had to be here. If you ever find yourself in detention again this semester, feel free to help out. Hopefully the committee is more than just me by then" you say, starting to gather your belongings. Ethan secretly hopes it isn't, he likes the idea of hanging out with just you.

"I probably will find myself in detention again. It's kinda part of this whole tortured angsty hot skater boy thing I've got going on" he says throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

"not what I said" you still attempt to deny.

"sure it wasn't"

"bye ethan"

"bye y/n"

Yea, he'll definitely be finding himself in detention again.

-

Read Part 2 here

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hi hello, your writing is great!! I was wondering whether you would like to continue the piece with sleep-deprived villain who lost their sidekick and hero coming to them? Since the first part ended how it did (the heavenly spicy prospect of hero running a bath for both of them), I would be more than happy to read what's next!! Possible heavy spice on the horizon is always well-greeted. Always.

So a few questions to consider: During villain's and hero's (spicy) makeout session, would villain humbly admit their feelings and their hallucinations about hero pinning them down and ravaging them? Would hero be worried that villain might be in the wrong state of mind for sex/making out/both/whatever you choose? Would hero have self-conscious doubts whether villain wants them or whether they just use the opportunity to work off the stress and grief using hero? Would both of them, in all this tangled chaos, truly and honestly confess to each other in between the kisses?

Choose whatever you want to write, I would be grateful for everything you post! I'm going to horny jail willingly, have a beautiful beautiful day

pt. 1

All the villain could do was watch as the hero actually did take off their clothes in the bathroom. It wasn’t like their hallucination. The hero wasn’t drenched in blood, ready to take the villain as they pleased. They didn’t push them into couches or walls to kiss them until their lips were numb.

“Two hours of sleep is really dangerous,” the hero said. They were working on their pants already, trying to slip out of them. The villain’s eyes burnt from the lack of sleep and the built up steam in the bathroom, however, their eyes widened and their pulse skyrocketed as they saw the hero’s body uncovered.

A few days ago, their hallucinations had gotten worse. More violent, more realistic. Often, they couldn’t tell reality and dream apart. Dreaming was torture and staying awake wasn’t pleasant either.

“I know.”

“Come here.” The hero was fully naked now and the villain tried their best to stare at the bathroom tiles instead of them. Having an attractive nemesis had always been a weakness of the villain. Eventually, the hero offered them their hand and the villain replied with a brave step towards them. “I’ll help you, okay?”

The villain’s face was burning but they didn’t have the energy to reply. They didn’t know how to flirt nor how to tease and yet, they chased every little touch the hero was willing to give them. With the hero’s hands on them they felt okay for a second. As they went over their body to peel off the layers of clothes, the villain tried their best to be of help but their coordination was truly horrible. No wonder they had lost their weapon earlier. It was a miracle that they were still alive.

Before the villain knew it, they were naked too. With embarrassment, they noticed that the hero’s hand was on their lower stomach. Resting fingertips against their skin. And the villain already felt guilty for allowing themselves to enjoy life a little.

“Alright, you first,” the hero said. They took the villain’s handed and guided them to the bathtub. On their lower back, the villain could feel the hero’s other hand, steadying them, securing them.

Pain burnt into them as their feet sank into the water. It was scorching hot, nearly unbearable but the villain welcomed the pain like an old friend, letting it happen, like everything else in their life.

They sat down slowly, trying to get used to the temperature and the hero followed promptly, sitting down on their hips. Overwhelmed by the sudden proximity, the villain tried to calm down their poor heart. It hadn’t worked this hard in a few weeks and having the hero this close to them was just like their hallucination, except that it was a little too real and intimate.

“Do you always use boiling water when you bathe?” the villain asked. The hero’s hands were on their chest and the villain was sure they could feel their heart beating.

“Straight from hell, yes.” It was a nice distraction. They were a nice distraction. But the villain feared this would make everything worse. The villain would keep yearning for them, getting addicted to them. “Now, relax, okay?”

“I’m trying,” the villain admitted but their eyes dropped to the hero’s lips. When the hero leaned forward, the villain expected their lips to meet but instead, the hero kissed their cheek softly. Immediately, the villain could tell that this was not a hallucination.

“I know. But this has gone too far. Imagining that I break into your home and devour you isn’t normal,” the hero said but the villain couldn’t hold themselves back anymore. They’d been through hell for the last weeks, months even. They had considered terrible methods and measures. Losing themselves in all of this was easy but the hero had swooped in — like the hero they were — and saved them.

They grabbed the hero’s jaw and kissed them softly.

It was quite clear that they were out of practice. Their tongue was too nervous, too quick, their mouth was not open enough and their hand was awkwardly resting on the hero’s back. Although the hero kissed back, the villain knew that they hesitated. After a few seconds of pure heaven, they pulled away and swallowed.

Their heart was still desperately pumping blood through their system and they sweated hard enough that even the hero could tell.

“I’m sorry,” they said, didn’t even dare to be louder than a whisper.

“I know how hard it is,” the hero replied. They were still so close. “Losing someone isn’t easy.”

“I’m okay.”

“You imagined us having sex together because you didn’t get enough sleep.” The hero combed through the villain’s messy hair with their fingers. “Why did you imagine me?”

“I don’t know,” the villain said. For a few seconds, the villain just stared at them.

Exhausted, sad, hopeless. They were lost and the hero seemed like the only way, like the only lighthouse in this sea.

The villain couldn’t help but go in for another kiss and the hero replied, guiding their enemy’s hands as much as their tongue. Every now and then, the villain had to sigh softly. This was so much better than the hallucinations, it was so much better than what they had experienced before. Slowly, the villain’s hands moved down to the hero’s ass and squeezed. Adorable wasn’t even close to describing the sounds the hero made as response. With each second, the villain wanted more. They started kissing the hero’s throat, started to bite a little and get more daring.

But right when they were getting ready, the hero pulled away.

“I should’ve come sooner, fuck, this is really bad,” they mumbled. Fidgeting hands went over the villain’s chest as the hero’s lips hovered over theirs. The villain pressed a quick kiss to them, not really understanding what they meant.

“I like this.”

“You’re exhausted. You probably don’t even want this. Fuck, what was I thinking…?” Suddenly, the hero moved and the villain panicked.

“Please don’t go,” they said. Their hands went to the hero’s hips, holding onto them. Wasn’t it foolish? To expect that they were worth it? That they deserved kindness? Affection even? “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t want to use you.”

“I don’t want to use you,” the villain said. “We don’t need to have sex…I would just like to know that someone is there.”

The hero’s muscles relaxed and they nodded gently. Admittedly, the villain wanted more than they had suggested. They wanted to lose themselves in desire not only because it eased the pain but also because they yearned for the hero. Their saviour. Their crush. Someone who was putting up with their shit over and over again.

“We can talk about it, you know,” the hero said. “I know it hurts but if we talk about it, maybe you can start to heal healthily.”

“I can’t talk about it,” the villain said quickly. “Please, I really can’t.”

“That’s okay.” Once again the hero combed through their hair. “I’ll be here in case you change your mind.”

Indeed, the hero stayed for two weeks and they held the villain when they told them everything. When they broke down and dropped their guard, when they started crying and let go of everything they had been hiding.

[thestarrynightslover]

Second Time Is the Charm

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 1,211

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Summary: Jay meets the Reader, Hailey's best friend, when she's meeting Molly's for the first time after having moved back to Chicago.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way, or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Still not in my best writing but I hope you like it!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| mastelist |

"Hey, guys! This is my best friend, (y/n) (y/l/n), who I told you about! She just moved to the city a few weeks ago, so, be nice!" You heard your long-time friend, Hailey, warn her coworkers, who she always swore by to be some of the very best people in Chicago.

"Whatcha sayin', Detective Upton? I'm always nice!" a tall guy, who you recognized as being the one Hailey'd had a fling with some time ago, exclaimed, feigning offense.

They all are very sympathetic to you and you can see how they managed to get Hailey's friendship so easily. But there is one person who stands out from the rest of the group. And you just can't help yourself but to stare at the handsome guy who Hailey said is her partner. The famous Jay Halstead. You do know that it's impolite to basically ogle him like that but you. Just. Can't. Stop. He might just be the most beautiful man you've ever seen and that's saying a lot since you'd already lived in many places and had already met lots of hot guys.

Maybe you were dreaming or something but it seemed like he, too, was taking a few glances at you. But you must've been imagining 'cause he never made a single move your way — not that you were dealing any better with this sort of crush.

The hours ticked by faster than anyone there would've imagined with all the friendly chit-chat and the stories being told but, when you noticed the time, you decided it was time to go home, so you announced: "Hey, guys, thanks a lot for tonight! It was really nice meeting you all, I had a blast! But now I think I'mma head home."

"What? No! I can drive you there later," Adam started but you cut him off:

"No need for that, really. I live nearby and the walk home is gonna be good for me!"

"But going alone this time of night…" Kevin trailed off.

"Well I was thinking about heading home too and I'm also gonna walk. So maybe we can go together?" Jay asked, speaking directly to you for the first time in the whole night.

Not really knowing how to politely decline that one, you accepted: "Oh, um, okay, that'd be nice."

"It's really nice of yours to offer to walk me home, Jay. Thank you again." You said in an attempt to break the ice.

"Yeah, no problem. You know I like making myself available for the community!" He said with a wink? Was Hailey's partner seriously trying to flirt with you? "So, back at Molly's everyone explored a lot why you came back to Chicago but I wanna know what made you leave it in the first place, 'cause you went to college here, with Hailey, right?"

"Uh… yeah, we were roommates, actually. But I left for many reasons, the main one being a wish to see what the world had to offer. Which wasn't very hard since I can easily get a job pretty much anywhere I want…" You answered, leaving out the part about how your ex had humiliated you into leaving the city just to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

"Hmmm, I see. But you said work had you moving back?"

"Yeah, well this was an exception because I was being offered a better position in case I came here." And because now you'd already gotten over what happened with your ex.

"Then which one is your favorite city so far?" There he got you, you always had a hard time picking favorites…

"Hmmm, maybe Amsterdam?" You thought that it would be a smooth way to do some flirting of your own. "It can be a very romantic city…" You started, "and I've always seen myself as a romantic, hopeless or not…"

"Oh, is that right?" The detective asked.

"Yeah, well, what can I say if everything romance just makes me happy?" You said, looking up brightly at him. Before he could muster up an answer though, you realized where you were, "Oh, that's my building right there!" You exclaimed pointing at the building across the street. But just as you said it you found yourself being sweetly and longingly kissed by Jay, which caught you completely off guard.

"So…" You started without really knowing how to continue after the kiss.

"So…" He imitated while nervously scratching the back of his neck. "I guess it was a bit awkward to just kiss you like that-"

"No! I, uh, I liked it!" Gosh, you sounded like a teenager, " I mean it wasn't bad or anything."

"Then maybe you'd be okay with giving me your number?" He asked.

"Yeah, sure!" Once again, teenager, dammit! "I, uh, what I mean is that I wouldn't mind it if you wanted to call me sometime, detective. You know, just making myself available for the community." You repeated his previous words with a wink.

"Huh! Careful with those empty promises, ma'am," Jay said playfully.

"Who said anything about empty?" You countered.

"Okay, then… Just know that you might be getting a call from me sooner rather than later." He half confessed while shaking his head.

"Looking forward to it!" You shot back and turned around to walk towards your building. Just as you were about to take the first step though, you decided to take a last glance at him, saying: "Have a good night, detective." He didn't answer, you didn't give him time to. But, as you were almost at the building's door, you heard your phone starting to ring and decided to pick up, since it wasn't very common for you to get calls at that time of night. "Hello?"

"Hi, uh, is this (y/n) (y/l/n)'s phone?" You heard Jay's amused voice on the other end of the line and instantly turned back around to see him, still standing on the other side of the street, purposely in your eyesight.

"Really?"

"You said to call at any time-"

"Hmmm…"

"And I just couldn't wait!"

"Are you making fun of me right now?"

"Not at all!" He quickly responded. "I am, actually, inviting you to grab coffee with me one of these days." At that, your heart started beating faster and you could only hope that he wasn't able to hear it through the phone. "Or, you know, lunch, dinner, whatever you prefer!"

"I, uh, I would love to, Jay." Was all you could answer, as the flirty banter suddenly seemed pointless. "I would love to grab coffee or lunch or dinner with you sometime!"

"Okay. That's, uh, that's great! So, maybe this Saturday? 9 o'clock?"

"Yeah, sure! That sounds good! Just let me know where you wanna me-"

"Nope, nuh-uh, that's not happening! Just be ready by then and prepare yourself to be surprised!"

"Jay, I-"

"Not taking no for an answer! Goodnight to you too, (y/n)." He said and hung up, waving at you as he continued his path. Meanwhile, you went upstairs thinking about Saturday and about how you'd snatched a guy like that on your third day back in the city. Maybe Chicago wasn't as bad as you remembered it anymore...

[pro-memoriia]

A sweet Swiss/Dew one maybe? 👉👈

Errrr okay okay okay okay okay

I'm preparing myself guys 🙏🏻

A/N: THIS IS BAD HELP I'M SORRY. I MIGHT WRITE SOMETHING ELSE TO REPLACE THIS BUT I DON'T WANNA DELETE THIS CUZ I SPENT TIME ON IT...

CW: Suggestive moments but no actual NSFW, Dew and Swiss kind of have a love/hate relationship and it's lowkey corny, takes place between Meliora and Prequelle

"You're trying too hard, baby," Swiss' voice cut through the silence of Dew's room.

Dewdrop nearly jumped out of skin, his tail spiking and hairs standing up on the back of his neck. He growled and turned away from the candle he'd been attempting to light.

"Jesus Christ," the interrupted ghoul spat. "You're really fucking freaky, new guy."

Swiss laughed. "Why?"

"Sneaking into my room without permission?"

"Your door was cracked open," Swiss said.

"Still! Creepy! Anyways, fuck do you want..."

Swiss sighed and flopped backwards onto the bed.

"I wanna help," he groaned. "I'm bored."

"Maybe you should practice," Dew quipped. "We start tour in a few months."

Swiss blew a raspberry with a lack of amusement. "Boring."

Dewdrop shook his head. The fire ghoul was hot headed (no pun intended) and wasn't exactly pleased with his new pack mate's presence.

It had only been a few weeks since Terzo's era as Papa was over and Dew had been passed on to the Cardinal. Along with the transition in authority figures, he'd also been forced to undergo an elemental transition. It had been painful and grueling and an overall awful experience. Now, the painful part was over, but he still didn't know how to be a fire ghoul.

"How the hell would you be able to help me?"

Swiss' ears perked up. "I'm a multi ghoul! I'm special. I got experience in alllll the areas, even fire. And a little birdie told me you went through an elemental switch not too long ago..."

Swiss was awful in Dew's eyes. Sort of... He was cocky and flamboyant. Dew found it infuriating, and although he'd never admit it out loud, he sort of found it charming as well.

"I don't really wanna do this anymore anyways," Dew huffed. He rolled his shoulders and stretched. "Shit's getting boring. And I'm pissed."

"It's 'cause you're stressing yourself out. I can help you with a few things. But I guess now I realize that the first thing you need help with is getting some damn relaxation."

Dew glared at the multi. "Fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, duh."

Dew growled a little. Swiss got up and walked to Dew, standing in front of the criss cross ghoul.

Dewdrop's face was level with Swiss' crotch now, and he stared at it with both anger and a little bit of hunger.

"Ahhh, not that. Not right now, at least," Swiss said to him through a laugh. He yanked the fire ghoul up by his armpits and set him down so his feet were on the floor.

"Aww, someone needs a hug," Swiss taunted in a pouty voice.

"Fuck off! You don't even know me. I've been here way longer than you and we've barely talked-"

"We can change that, y'know."

"Quit interrupting me! I'm not-"

Swiss laughed. "This is fun."

Dewdrop growled at Swiss.

"You're awfully small," Swiss said with a smirk after a few seconds of silence.

"Just shut up and kiss me, dammit!"

Swiss leaned in and locked his lips with the short ghoul. Dew's hands wrapped around the multi's horns to hold him in place.

"You are such an asshole," he mumbled against his lips. "I hate you so much."

Swiss pulled back with a chuckle and kissed a line from his lips to his ear before whispering. "I thought you said we didn't know each other..."

"Whatever."

"Jump."

Dew obeyed and jumped, his legs wrapping around Swiss' waist.

"You're so cute," Swiss praised as he backed up. When his knees hit the bed, he sat down and scooted back with Dew still on top. "Told you all you need was some relaxation."

"We're not fucking?" Dew questioned.

"I told you, not now," Swiss giggled. "We can cuddle and make out though."

Dew hesitated. "Yeah, okay, I guess that's enough."

He kissed down Swiss' face and jaw and nuzzled against his neck, causing Swiss to purr.

"Purring? Already? Damn, you're easy."

Swiss just hummed and pulled his face back to his.

"How about we get to know each other, mm?"

"Under the sheets with our tails tangled, sure."

Swiss used his leg to pull up the blanket at the foot of the bed. He yanked it up and over the two of them, but kept their lips locked in the process.

As soon as they were under the warm cover, Swiss purred. He broke the kiss to momentarily cuddle his face against Dew's shoulder. He rolled them both a little so they were on their sides. Dew's leg was pulled over Swiss' hip and his hands were grabbing his cheek and the back of his head.

"Can't believe we're doing this much already," Swiss joked. "We haven't even gone out to dinner first."

"Hahaha," Dew replied sarcastically. "You're such a fucking menace and it makes you annoyingly attractive."

"I know. You feeling less stressed yet?"

"I fucking love you," Dew spat, pulling him into another kiss.

He internally cursed himself for losing to his attraction, but Swiss was sweet and made it all worth it.

So when he was snoring in Swiss' arms a little while later, his new packmate knew it wouldn't take much to get close.

[anonymouszephyrus]

Keith's really smart but doesn't fully understand humor so he'll pretend not to know some pop culture thing or extremely essential piece of knowledge for the bit and everyone takes him seriously and now everyone on the ship thinks he not only doesn't know what Legos are but also didn't know the difference between blue and green until Voltron.

Now... At first, I couldn't whether this was supposed to be a request for me to write until I actually started reading it and my little brain processed the damn thing. So here it is <3

(I may have gone way too off the script but oh well. I really liked it NFKJAN It's short but oh well, whoever wants to use it- go ahead. Have fun!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Keith."

Lance stared back at him with a perplexed, almost offended look in his eyes. The red paladin was almost tempted to stop the act and laugh in his face at how gobsmackingly stupid he looked right now. "Don't be fucking with me right now."

The blue paladin looked so serious and so utterly cute as he stared down at Keith on the floor, "What?" Keith answered, tilting his head a bit as he looked up at Lance.

"Are you colorblind?" He asked, moving closer to him, "Or just actually clueless?"

Keith couldn't help but give out a small chuckle, "I'm not colorblind, Lance. I'm quite sure of that."

It had been just a few weeks since the 'reveal' that Keith didn't know what Legos were.. that was fine, apparently. Not everyone had the option of having those little foot-breaking blocks... no, the thing Lance was so offended and disgruntled by was the fact that Keith mistook his blue lion for Pidge's. Not only were they different sizes, but Lance was so offended that his beauty of a lion was being compared to Pidge's snarky and "know-it-all" one. No offense, Pidge. He said before.

He might have chalked it up to Keith being slightly colorblind or his Galran heritage having something to do with the way he sees color... but the red paladin have proved before that he did know the difference between the two lions.. and now, Lance was utterly convinced he was just doing it to fuck with him.

"You're such a bitch." Keith laughed at his reaction, the very nerve!

How could he just sit there and laugh and look so beautiful?! It seemed as though Keith took pleasure in tormenting him, mocking him with his laughter and leaving Lance feeling foolish and inadequate. The audacity of that little shit...

This infuriatingly bossy, annoying, devious, stubborn, hot-headed, irresistible-

The blue paladin stared at him. Stared at how Keith laughed, realizing he didn't do it very often. He sat there and stared at him, for a long time he now realized.

With a sudden gesture, Keith waved his hand in front of Lance's eyes, jolting him out of his daze. Lance's gaze locked onto the red paladin, realizing that Keith had stealthily closed the distance while Lance was lost in his thoughts. As Lance stared back, mesmerized by Keith's captivating eyes—a mesmerizing blend of swirling black and purple, sprinkled with specks of dark blue—he couldn't help but think how stunning Keith looked up close. However, Lance's mind abruptly snapped back to reality. Wait.

Oh dear.

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires- Part 7

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 1193

Masterlist

If we were near your apartment, we'd probably end up at Starbucks.

Luckily we're on my turf. I'm not going to take you to that overpriced coffeeshop for hipsters and people without taste; I'm taking you to get real coffee, at my favorite café just down the road from Mooney's.

You walk beside me and you don't ask where we're going. I like that. You trust that wherever I'm taking you, you'll like it. Instead you chat idly about your week (which was busy) and ask me about mine (it was slow).

I ask you where you work. You tell me you're a copywriter at an online marketing agency. This surprises me.

“Marketing? Did you always want to do that?”

“No,” you say. “I always wanted to be an author. But you know what they say about writers who can't write.”

I actually don't. I tell you as much.

“We always end up in marketing.”

I think you're being too hard on yourself. I'm sure you're better at writing than you give yourself credit for. Then again, I haven't read anything you've written and I don't want to make assumptions. You might be horrible.

“What about you?” you ask. “Did you always want to work at a bookstore?”

“I don't know. I've worked at Mooney's since I was fifteen. The guy who owns it sort of took me in,” I explain, and clear my throat. “I've never really felt like a career change.”

“Did you go to college?” you ask.

I make a face, because I don't know how you feel about this subject. Finally, I shake my head.

“I hated school,” you say. “I can't learn that way. I've been much happier since I started working.”

“Did you become a copywriter right away?”

“God, no.” You laugh. “I was a TA for the longest time. Then I worked the lunch shift at this small restaurant. I loved that. Copywriting is kind of a recent development.”

I want to ask more questions, but we've arrived at the café. It’s a little joint with the same vibe as Mooney's: old, dusty, quiet. Old records line the walls here. On slow days, you're allowed to pick one and play it on the record player they have, but it's kind of busy today. We pick a table by the window and we order our coffees.

“I can believe that.”

You order yours with milk, no sugar. I order mine black. You tell me you used to drink black coffee until you moved to New York, but "the coffee is different here.”

You take a moment to look out the window, and I take that moment to look at you. I think that was your intention, because when you notice me staring you meet my eyes, and stare back. Most girls would have blushed and looked away.

“Tell me something about yourself, Joe,” you say. “I feel like I barely know you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What's your favorite book?”

I hiss playfully.

“You can't make me choose.”

You laugh at this, and I take a moment to think.

“There's a few,” I finally tell you. “Right now it's Frankenstein, I think.”

“That's... a choice,” you say.

I raise an eyebrow.

“How do you figure that?”

You fumble. I wonder if you said it just to say it - lots of people do that, when it comes to books - but then you shake your head.

“Well, that book, it's… Frankenstein creates this living, breathing person, and then he completely disregards it. Him. The book's about bad parenting, really.”

Did you have bad parents, (Y/n)? Is that why you moved all the way to New York?

“I didn't say I like Frankenstein himself,” I say. “I just said I like the book.”

“I'll be honest: I've read Frankenstein, but I remember the introduction better than the actual story.” You pause. “The classics aren't really my thing. Well, that's not true. I like some of them. I just don't find them automatically better than any other books.”

“You don't have to.”

You take a sip of your coffee, which has just been set down, and then suck in some air when you realize it's too hot. I chuckle, and you fake a glare.

“Now you tell me something about you,” I say.

“Like what?” you ask.

“I don't know.”

“Okay, well. I have an unhealthy obsession with serial killers.”

“Ah,” I say. “You're one of those people.”

“Well, don't say it like that.” You won’t meet my eyes now. “I just find it interesting, how the human mind can turn out like that. How do they kill so many people and still sleep at night?”

“Maybe they know the world is better off without those people in it.”

You look at me.

“Who are they to decide, though?”

I like it when you look me in the eyes, even if it's because you're challenging me. I don't want you to look away.

I wonder if you'd look at me this way during sex. I'm sure you would. You'd refuse to break eye contact first. But eventually you'd cave. You'd have to.

“I'm reading this book right now,” you say.

“Under the banner of heaven.”

Oh, no.

I've messed up. You're looking at me all wrong, and why wouldn't you? I'm not supposed to know what you're reading. You didn't buy that book at Mooney's. You must have bought it somewhere else, or ordered it online, but you didn't get it from me.

I have to bluff my way through this.

“You told me,” I say.

“Right…” you swallow, then shake it off. “Well, it's about these guys who murdered their brother's wife, and the baby, too. They thought God told them to, or something. They were Mormons. How do you ever get to that point? That you'd murder a baby and call it God's will?”

“I don't know,” I admit. “Some people are just bad people, I guess.”

But you shake your head. You don't want to believe in the worst the world has to offer.

“There has to be a reason,” you say. “Nobody is born bad.”

“Maybe not,” I concede.

“Sorry. I'm boring you.”

Not at all.

“A little bit. I mean, no,” I say, shaking my head. “What I mean is, I don't know that I agree with you, fully.”

“About people not being born bad?”

“Some people are just pure evil,” I say. “And it's only getting worse, you know. These days, it's way too easy for everybody to make themselves into the main character of their story. It breeds selfishness. That's why I hate social media.”

“I noticed I couldn't find you,” you tell me. “And I looked pretty hard.”

You looked for me!

“I looked for you on Instagram,” I admit. “But your account is private, and I didn't want to make one of my own just to follow you.”

“Stalker,” you tease. “Both of us. We're a couple of regular old stalkers.”

“Can't be too careful,” I say.

“No, you can't,” you agree. “Anyone could be a weirdo.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“Well, that's okay,” you say. “I like those.”

[notoneopinion]

Self Care Tips After a Long Day

Personally, I have been having a lot of these 'long days' recently, and these tips have been saving my sanity. So I thought I'd share them with you! Christmas is coming up, a lot of us are taking on extra or longer shifts at work to be able to afford the presents we need to buy, so hopefully some of this advice will come in handy.

1. Treat yourself!

A pretty simple one, but it really is very important. I sometimes treat myself with a coffee after work, because there is nothing better than a hit of caffeine after a twelve and a half hour shift, let me tell you. If I don't feel like spending money, I'll come home and watch a movie, lay out a few packets of crisps to enjoy whilst I relax. It really is a thing of just unwinding after a particularly long day, making sure your body gets that rest it deserves.

2. Journal

This really is one of the biggest self-care tips you will get. Anyone who knows anything about taking care of your mind knows that writing out your feelings is a great way to sort out your emotions. It can also be very relaxing, which is perfect after a long day. I love making a Scene of it, too - lighting a candle, putting on some music or a nice YouTube video in the background, and just sitting down at my table in cosy pyjamas to write about my day. I personally go with the old brain-dump method, but there's a ton of different ways to journal that you can look into, whether that be fun prompts, lists, or a brain-dump, like me!

3. Sit in silence.

Genuinely, just sit in silence. Come home, get into comfy clothes, and just sit. Stare at a wall. Play with a fidget toy. Put noise-cancelling headphones on and just be present in your own space. I find myself doing this mostly due to my autism; I kind of have no choice in the matter, considering my brain tends to shut down after a long day, and all I can really do is sit in silence. But it's not a bad thing, and I recommend trying to do it for anyone who might be feeling a little overwhelmed. The silence can do wonders.

4. Have a bath/shower.

I'm a shower girlie, personally, but that's only because I don't actually have a bath.

Either way, getting washed and clean and feeling fresh is an ultimate form of self care!!!! It might take a bit of motivation to actually get yourself into the shower (trust me, I know) but once you do it, you'll feel incredible. I'm personally not a big fan of the whole Everything Shower thing - I think I'm just too lazy to get everything scrubbed, shaved and moisturised, and if you're the same, there's nothing wrong with that. Wash your hair. Put some soap on those limbs. Just feel the hot water on your skin, maybe do a bit of skin care afterwards if you're feeling up to it. But getting washed and fresh will make you feel ten times better, and might even wake you up a bit if that's what you need!

5. Meal prep.

I live by this.

Once upon a time, I didn't meal prep, and I would come home at 8:30pm after a twelve hour shift full of heavy lifting and verbal abuse (lol guess what I work as) and I would immediately just order a takeaway. In the moment, this is all good - it's a treat, I deserve it, it tastes nice. But after three days of takeaways, you start feeling a little bit shit about yourself, and you're not being too kind on your wallet, either.

I started using a brief portion of my days off to meal prep for the week - just dinners, stuff I could throw in the fridge/freezer and heat up when I got home. Let me tell you, it was self care. Not only was my health improving dramatically, but my mental health was also given a break because I was no longer feeling bad about the stuff I was putting in my body. Plus, meal prepping at the start of the week (or just whenever you get a chance, really) gives you the opportunity to actually think about what you're making, so chances are you're going to be a bit more conscious about what you're putting into your body. I also enjoy cooking a great deal, so it's not even a chore on my day off - I find it quite relaxing to throw some music on, get my cook book out and just enjoy the task.

[hermannsthumb]

Hello! For the summer prompts, if you feel the inspiration, I'd love to see "sunburn" and "mosquito" combined please! 💜

2. Sunburn + 29. Mosquitos

from summer prompt memes here

i'm at the beach for a little bit, so i am in a beachy mood and wanted to send these guys off to one too!! been so busy with zine stuff that I haven't had time to write a silly fic in a while, so here's a short one :-)

----------------------------------------------------------

“This is fun, isn’t it?” Newt says.

Hermann, swathed under a large sunhat and a loose terrycloth button-down, peers out at the ocean with an expression that Newt might call, generously, vague skepticism, and ungenerously outright distaste. But the crease in his brow smooths out as he turns his attention towards Newt, and he quirks up the corner of his mouth. Not exactly a smile from anyone but Hermann. “Er, yes,” he says. “It’s very—hot. But lovely,” he adds quickly. “Very—hot, and lovely.”

Newt hasn’t been to the beach—for non-work related reasons, which is to say a beach that isn’t crawling in, like, enough xenobiological radiation to kill him under ten minutes without the proper PPE—in what must be almost fifteen years at this point, back since the days when he used to crouch for hours over tide pools and scribble barely-legible notes in a composition book before he had to hustle back off to campus for class. Baby’s first field journal. The Pacific coasts are still very much a gamble for a fun day out, but they’re chilling outside DC for the week while they’re traded between nearby universities and fancy banquet halls to get their hands shaken and backs patted or whatever, and by God (Newt decided) he was going to take Hermann on a good, proper beach date if it killed him. Metaphorically. Hopefully not actually with kaiju blue poisoning, because that would suck.

Whether through the lingering effects of their drift or Hermann just being fluent in Newtonian mannerisms at this point, he picked up on Newt’s ulterior motives for insisting on getting a jeep from the car rental place pretty much immediately. He was at least surprisingly chill about it all: all he did was tell Newt, calmly, that he’ll need to stop off at a department store for the proper attire, and that Newt might want to consider a motel room as well so they don’t have to spend seven hours on the road in one day, both of which were pretty reasonable requests. Newt was just planning on swimming in boxers. Not like anyone but Hermann would be able to tell the difference.

They hit miserable traffic on the world’s most terrifying bridge while the A/C sputtered tragically at them (Newt is so asking for a partial refund, it’s July man, come on), and Hermann stared out the window at the ocean a long drop below without making a peep while Newt tried to awkwardly fill the silence with anything that came to his head. Mostly about how much fun they were going to have. They shelled out ten bucks for parking at the public access beach and even more money to rent a tattered umbrella, and the beach was just enough on the wrong side of practically empty that it set both of them on edge (though Newt could tell Hermann was trying to hide it). People are still a little wary of setting foot within fifteen miles of an ocean.

It's romantic, Newt told Hermann, and he tried to rub sunblock on his shoulders sensually, but accidentally jabbed his thumb in the wrong way and made Hermann full-body recoil away from him. I can handle that, he told Newt tersely, but he gave Newt a small thank-you kiss anyway as he wrestled the bottle away from him. The umbrella doesn’t work—too many metal prongs broken with age or over-use. Newt wonders if they dug it out of the bottom of the pile or something. Not wanting to risk getting impaled by a spoke, they ended up closing it and just hoping the sunblock does the job right.

“You’re hot and lovely,” Newt tries, lamely.

Hermann doesn’t acknowledge Newt’s half-assed flirting beyond a small sigh. Newt can’t blame him. Hermann lifts the brim of his hat, peering at a fly that’s just landed on Newt’s calf, and Newt winces a second later when it bites him. "Fuck," he says, and slaps at it. It buzzes away angrily to Hermann’s ankle, presumably to bite him too, so Newt leans forward to valiantly shoo it again. Hermann looks down at him in mingled annoyance and fondness. “Biting flies,” Newt sighs. “Forgot about these bastards.” Benefits of living in various UN-sanctioned basements for ten-odd years, weird bugs that like to cause you bodily harm are a rare occurrence.

“Newton, ah,” Hermann says, adjusting the brim of the hat against a sudden gust of slightly fishy sea-breeze, “how long did you want to stay out here? On the beach, I mean?”

“As long as you want, dude,” Newt says. It’s date-day, and when they drive back they’ll be consumed by their lectures and suits and making good impressions again, so he wants to enjoy himself for as long as possible. More specifically he wants Hermann to enjoy himself for as long as possible. Then again—he’s hot and a little on the sting-y side of tanned, and he’s pretty sure he just saw a mosquito settling on Hermann’s shoulder. “Why, did you want to leave?”

He sounds pathetically hopeful and immediately feels guilty about it. He hyped this up to Hermann so much, he’s not gonna ruin the guy’s fun. “No, no,” Hermann says. “Of course not. I’m having—er—a wonderful time.” He begins to scratch absently at his shoulder. There’s a small bump rising up from what looks like a gnarly patch of sunburn.

“Cool,” Newt says.

“Bit buggy though, isn’t it?” Hermann says. He scratches at another mosquito bite on his ankle.

“It’s not too bad!” Newt says. “I can deal with it.”

“If you're sure,” Hermann says.

They pack the rented jeep up around sunset when the public beach blessedly closes at last. Newt drops the busted umbrella twice on the dunes on the hike back to the parking lot, and Hermann (who’s clutching on to Newt so he doesn’t lose his footing on the uneven ground) finally loses his sunhat for good when he tries to bend down to help Newt the second time: it’s caught in the wind and blown out to sea. They watch sadly as a wave swallows it. “I’ll buy you another one,” Newt says.

They sit in silence in the jeep for a few minutes when Newt starts it, enjoying the A/C (however weak it is) after a day spent in the thick humidity. Hermann’s bony shoulders and fine cheekbones are lobster-red. He’s scratching absently at his thigh. It’s the first time Newt’s ever seen the guy in shorts, and he can’t even enjoy it through the uncomfortable haze of guilt. “Newton,” Hermann finally sighs. “I very much appreciate your, er, enthusiasm for the day, but—” He touches the back of his red neck, wincing, and cranks the A/C up a notch. “—perhaps next time, we might just see a film, or go for dinner?”

“Oh, my God,” Newt says. He sags in the driver’s seat. “Fucking yes, please. That was awful.” It’s cruel to rip them from the comfort of their underground lab and drop them back into the elements of, like, the great outdoors without some build-up, even if this was in fact all Newt’s doing. Like a zoo putting a penguin in a lion habitat or something. Except Newt was the one to tell them to do it.

“It was terrible,” Hermann agrees.

“Why the hell didn’t you say something?!” Historically Hermann has never, ever had a problem bitching at Newt about even the slightest inconvenience or perceived annoyance.

“You went to all that trouble,” Hermann says, “and I was trying to be—” He grits his teeth. “Nice.”

“Gross, dude,” Newt says. “Don’t ever do that again.”

[thesullengrrrl]

Hello, sweetie!

I am the anon who requested the “When the Morning Light Sings” drabble, as you labeled it. Never did I ever believe that from my request you would write such a beautiful piece!

As it is the last week of August, I would like to make one more request, if I may. Could you please write something where Rosie and Elaine enjoy a day on the beach (perhaps it’s their honeymoon)? Picture them in well-fitted swimsuits, with lots of sunscreen, endless playful swimming, laughter, kisses, and parts of their bodies that still aren’t tanned 😏 even after a whole day on the beach.

Love you, sweetie ❤️

Hi sweetie, love you too! Thank you for this request and I'm sorry this took a while! Hope you enjoy this one 💓💓

happy together

Rosie rubbed his face as he waited for Elaine to get ready. He had totally forgotten how it was to live with females and how long it takes for them to get ready. 

She had shown him at least four swimsuits now, and his mistake of being objective led to her taking longer than she should have. The white with red polka dots was a maybe, her floral one was too bright, the black one was gloomy, the other black stringy one was too revealing for him (it shows her hip tattoo), and the other frilly one was too ‘girly’ for her. 

How could she own so many? 

He straightened up the moment the bathroom door creaked. His wife appeared in the first choice—the strapless, white pair littered with polka dots. “That’s the one? The very first one you tried on and said ‘It’s a maybe’?” 

“This is the one,” Elaine replied as she placed the pile of rejected ones back in the closet. Taking one last look in the mirror, she checked her styled hair and lipstick. “Have you got everything?” 

Raising their beach bag, he nodded. She took a moment to stare at what he was wearing—a plain short-sleeved polo with a matching striped navy blue short shorts, which showed off his toned legs. His curls are in their au naturel state and couldn’t help but to run her fingers through it.

“What?” he asked, feeling a little conscious.

“You look good, hot stuff,” she winked, pulling him out the door. He could only shake his head with her remark, all half hour of waiting forgotten. 

—

Elaine waved goodbye to her new friends—a gaggle of young women who invited her to play beach volleyball after she complimented their swimsuits. They initially thought she was with her boyfriend, but all surprised when she showed them her wedding band. 

She only gave her husband a funny look when the girls were eyeing Rosie. Under the pretense of waving her goodbye, he waved his left hand to subtly let them know he is actually married to her.

Seeing her jump to hit the ball, cheer every time they score, or getting up from the sand, it was all new to him. What else would he learn about her? 

Taking the book from his hands, she bookmarked the page where he's at and settled between his legs. 

"Why are you reading? We're at the beach."

His arms went around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Says the woman who brought her Vogue." 

“Steinbeck isn't exactly a beach read. How about we swim?" She leaned her head against her shoulder. With her back against his chest, Elaine is warm and safe.

"Hmmm," Rosie hummed, planting kisses on her jaw. "How about we sit for a minute? Looks like those girls wore you out." 

"They did, they did," she agreed, nodding along. "I’m so out of shape. Maybe I should start doing push ups with you, baby.”

“We did earlier, didn’t we? Before we got here?” Rosie asked, teasing in his tone evident. One thing he loved about being with her is how he gets more confident with his humor. Some might find him corny, but with her, it was an easy, sometimes challenging rapport.

“Yeah, you were huffing and puffing…” 

“I didn’t!”

“‘Oh Elaine, yes, there, right there…’” she mimicked with exaggerated sighs. “'I’m gonna co—’”

“Is that what I sound like? Is that what I sound like?” Rosie started tickling her exposed skin, making her squeal in laughter. 

—

Elaine grinned as she drew a heart at Rosie's chest using sunscreen. She wondered if he would burn or tan (her guess was he would burn), or if the heart shape would even appear. His face and back are already slathered with it, and for some reason, she saved his front for last. 

"I could've put on sunscreen in my own chest, you know," Rosie told her as she patted the last of sunscreen on his right shoulder. His military-issued sunglasses from the war suited him well despite his protests, and Elaine insisted that he use it on their trip. ("You look like one of those guys from Top Gun!" she said, forgetting that he couldn't understand her references. Sometimes.) 

"And what kind of wife would I be if I let you do that?" 

"A wife who listens to her husband," he answered, smirking. 

"I do listen to you," she handed him a new tin of sunscreen. "Now do me." 

Elaine laid on her stomach and unsnapped the back of her top. 

This made Rosie pause. "What are you doing? Why did you remove it?" 

"So you could put on sunscreen better," she replied without missing a beat. "What's the matter?" 

"I just don't want people looking at..." Rosie motioned at the sides of his chest. "Your sides." 

"It's fine, I saw the girls over there do it too," she assured him, lowering her glasses at him. "You could put some there if you like." 

Rosie started slathering generous amounts of sunscreen on her back as he doesn't want his wife to complain about sunburn when the day ends. He applied gentle pressure on her shoulders, making Elaine let out a muffled groan of relief under his hands.

Give me strength, he sighed to himself as he watched around on who might glance at his wife’s bare back in a lewd way.

—

After what seemed to be half an hour under the sun, Elaine snapped back her top and kissed his cheek. "Race you to the water!"

“Wait!” 

As soon as the water covered his legs, he was surprised at how cold the water was. He expected it to be warm due to the weather and well, it’s California. His wife was grinning at him, obviously amused with his reaction. 

Without any warning, Elaine bolted towards him, and jumped on him, only catching her in time. A strong wave crashed against them, but Rosie had good balance for the two of them. He held onto her waist to support her weight, his blue eyes crinkling as they giggled. 

“I love you, do you know that?” Rosie chuckled, adjusting her to his body. 

“Really? Shocker.” 

He shook his head. “Yes, darling.” 

“Then good. Because I love you too,” Elaine leaned in, capturing his lips with hers. Rosie eagerly returned her kiss, forgetting for a moment where they were. 

“Someone’s getting a little excited,” his wife teased and brushed a stray curl from his forehead. “Let’s swim before you drag me back to the hotel.” 

The pair swam and splashed and floated into the ocean to their hearts’ delight. Elaine taught Rosie how to float, while he raced her in swimming which he won every time.

When in each others’ arms, they waded towards the deeper part and Rosie suddenly dipped Elaine into the ocean. 

“Rosie!” she yelled. “Don't let go!” 

He lifted her back up until they were face to face with each other again. “You know I won’t, baby.”

—

California for their honeymoon was an insane idea (and a bit expensive), but now, he enjoys not worrying whether a relative might catch him making out with his wife on a public beach. 

Here, under the sun, they were freer to be just another married couple on their honeymoon. Their stresses due to work and other things were miles away from them. 

“Maybe we should go back here on our anniversary,” Rosie suggested as they walked back to their hotel. Elaine looped her arm on his, looking up to him. 

“Why not?”

[frozenbound]

Oooohhh can you do a spuriken marathon sex where they were the only one left in the base and they fuck around the whole Gibraltar base because most of them are on a mission including Hanzo? Bonus points if aphrodisiacs are included!

Thank you very much for your request, Anon!!! I had a blast writing this, even though, again, because we're shorthanded at work and I'm doing so many extra shifts, it took a long time. Sorry about that!

So! Spuriken marathon infidelity aphrodisiac sex coming right up under the Read More!

CW: cheating, infidelity

Hanzo took Cole’s hand and led him into a sheltered spot created by a few large crates piled haphazardly atop each other for one last kiss.

“Two weeks,” Hanzo sighed between kisses, because it was never going to be just one last kiss. “How am I supposed to survive two weeks without you?”

“You might, but I’m not,” Cole said, looking forlornly down at his husband. “When you get back, you’re either gonna find me facedown in a pool of my own tears or just a dry husk cuz I wasn’t able to eat or drink or nothing without you nearby. Just ain’t fair keeping us apart that long.”

Hanzo bit his lip and his eyes actually began to shimmer a little bit. “Cole,” he whispered.

“Hanzo, my darling,” Cole whispered back, and he leaned down and captured Hanzo’s lips, and the two of them pressed together as though they would never part again…

…but of course…

“Ugh,” Genji groaned as he rounded the corner. “I knew it, I just knew you’d be making out someplace. Get it together, you perverts, they need Hanzo on the transport ASAP.”

Cole sighed into Hanzo’s mouth, then Hanzo sighed into his, and they finally broke apart.

“Well,” Cole said, standing tall and hugging Hanzo to his chest. “So long, sweetheart. Stay safe. Come back to me just as soon as you can.”

“I shall,” Hanzo murmured, his voice vibrating directly into Cole’s chest. “As soon as may be.”

Genji made a gagging sound.

Hanzo and Cole knew full well, however, that he was only trying to lighten the mood and prod them into actually making the painful parting, and Hanzo stepped back, Cole’s arms trailing after him, but he shot his husband one last look and then turned away to walk back towards the transport, Cole following behind like a plaintive puppy with Genji at his side, hand on his shoulder, though shaking his head at his brother and brother-in-law’s teenage antics.

But, because he was as good a brother as he was a friend, he stood beside Cole as they watched Hanzo climb the ramp into the transport and immediately turn to watch them as the ramp closed. Then he sadly waved goodbye through the window as Tracer slowly maneuvered the transport away. 

Genji’s grip tightened on Cole’s shoulder to stop him from walking after it as it exited the hangar bay. He didn’t entirely trust Cole to stay far enough from the jet exhaust when it blasted off into flight right outside the hangar doors, a hot wind blowing his hat off as it carried his husband off to the other side of the planet.

The two men stood together for a few minutes, staring out the wide open entrance until the transport disappeared behind a distant cloud.

“Well,” Cole sighed, “that’s that.”

“Yep,” Genji agreed, nodding. “Just us on the whole Watchpoint for two whole weeks.”

“Yep.”

They continued to stare up into the sky for another few minutes.

Then Cole sighed, the longest, most drawn-out sigh yet, and asked, “You got the stuff?”

“Right here,” Genji answered, taking a small bottle out of his pocket. “Are you well-hydrated? You’re not gonna want to stop for anything for hours.”

“Yeah, I loaded up right before we came down. Better get down to it unless you’re into watersports.”

Genji made a considering noise as he passed Cole the bottle, and Cole surprised himself with a weak chuckle before he twisted the lid off and chugged the pink liquid inside in a few gulps.

Then he tossed the bottle aside and tore off his t-shirt, revealing his furry abs and pecs. “Alright, you feeling like the stallion or the cowboy?”

Genji didn’t answer. He simply latched onto Cole and wrapped him up in his arms, his grey artificial skin cool against Cole’s hairy and increasingly warm body.

They sank down to their knees together as their tongues dueled and entwined and pushed back and forward, and Cole sighed at how similar Hanzo’s brother tasted, so close yet with a distinct tang that was all Genji, a flavor that set Cole’s veins afire with forbidden pleasure as his hands roved over his brother-in-law’s back and dipped down to fondle and palm his spectacular ass.

Then, right there in the middle of the hangar bay floor with the sea breeze wafting in through the wide open doors, they stretched out with Genji on top, and Cole began to pull aside the thin black strap between Genji’s asscheeks to the side with one hand and rub circles around the tight, twitching ring of muscle guarding his entrance.

Then his finger dipped inside to the first knuckle.

Genji was self-lubricating these days, and was thus always ready.

They were going to find out if he would ever be ready for a rest, though. The last time Cole had spent any amount of time apart from Hanzo, he’d been absolutely miserable, and this time with the help of Genji and some powerful aphrodisiacs, Cole was going to try to be so far gone fucking his brother-in-law’s brains out that he wouldn’t have time to miss his husband.

They were making a great start.

“Genji,” he moaned into his mouth, sinking his finger in all the way, “Genji.”

“Cole,” Genji whispered back. “I’m going to fuck you on every single flat surface in every single room of this Watchpoint. You’re all mine for two weeks, and you’re not going to know a single moment without my cock in you or your cock in me.”

That was the moment the aphrodisiac hit Cole’s system.

Growling, Cole all but tore his finger out of Genji’s hole and pushed down his trousers, which in this position meant they didn’t even make it to mid-thigh, but it was enough to free his full, achingly hard cock.

Then he took Genji’s hips firmly in hand, lifted him up with prodigious sex-driven strength, and sank him right down onto his cock.

“Cole!” Genji gasped as he was filled to the brim. “Cole!”

“Ride me, baby,” Cole ordered in a low, rumbling voice. “Your guts are so hot around my cock, but I want them hotter. Make me cum, baby. Paint yourself white with my spunk.”

Genji obeyed, leaning back to bounce properly in Cole’s lap, his erect cock swinging up and down in time with his movements. “Give me your cum, Cole,” he panted, sweat dripping down his face and the steam pouring out of his shoulder vents as he increased his pace. “I want it. I need it. Feed me your cum!”

Cole laughed, feeling a surge of exhilaration at Genji’s needy tone.

He hadn’t taken any aphrodisiac. He was just this much of a cock hound, and with the Watchpoint empty he couldn’t strut from bedroom to bedroom like he usually could.

Two birds, one stone.

His laughter slowly morphed into grunts and moans that, combined with Genji’s, echoed throughout the immense, empty hangar bay so that there could have been a half-dozen men cheating on their husbands with their brothers-in-law scattered in the large room, like a ludicrously oversized clubhouse for cheaters.

The idea was so hot.

Everything was so hot.

Cole wished Hanzo were here to enjoy it.

And the thought of Hanzo beneath him, jackhammering up into him as Genji rode him, was enough to snap the coil in Cole’s core, and he slammed up into Genji with a shout as he poured his essence into his husband’s brother.

Genji kept up his frantic pace all through Cole’s interminable orgasm before slowing down, watching Cole’s face for any sign of discomfort.

Then he grinned.

“Not oversensitive?” he asked, even as his slow pace milked more and more semen out of his brother-in-law.

Cole shook his head.

“Need a break?”

Cole shook his head.

“Good. Suck me, cowboy.”

And he clambered off Cole’s dripping cock and knelt over his head and thrust his cock, wet and sticky with precum, into Cole’s wide-open mouth.

That was only the beginning of course.

When a chilly wind started blowing through the hangar bay, they went into Winston’s lab and Genji fucked Cole over Winston’s desk until Cole’s eyes rolled up and he shot his load, untouched, in a spectacular arc from under the desk, over the handrail, and onto the laboratory floor below.

Then they fucked in the kitchen, Cole slurping on Genji’s cock while Genji prepared a calorie-dense meal with plenty of bottles of sports drinks to accompany it.

Then they fucked on the recreation room couch with Genji’s favorite porn blaring on the holoscreen, giving them ideas to try: the afternoon delight, superman, pile driver, and more.

That was just the first day.

As the days passed, Genji took Cole for other rides: the fourth day was absolute torture, because as soon as Cole drank the aphrodisiac, Genji tied him to a strong metal chair and just stood and sat and laid there all morning long, pleasuring himself with his hands, his fleshlights, and his vibrators, among other things, while Cole could only watch with increasingly maddened eyes, orgasming from the sight alone several times before Genji finally finally finally released him for the grand finale, and Cole was brutal as he took Genji’s legs and slammed their buttocks together, driving the double-ended dildo into their innards over and over until Genji’s was crying with pleasure.

Through it all, though, he missed Hanzo, and Genji was a really good sport about the night when, despite everything, what Cole really needed was to fuck solidly into Genji as his eyes were glued to the video of their wedding day. Hanzo looked absolutely resplendent and blissful in his dark blue tuxedo, standing alongside Cole in his eyewateringly red tuxedo as they hugged and laughed and kissed and Hanzo whispered the filthiest things into his ear in front of everyone, murmuring his plans for the night so that neither Cole’s dick nor Hanzo’s were ever less than semihard the whole damn day until they retired at last to their honeymoon suite.

That wasn’t enough, though.

The next day, Cole brought out the sex tapes.

“Unh! Unh! Take it, cowboy!” Hanzo grunted as his image on the screen pounded into Cole’s hole as Genji matched his rhythm in the here and now.

“Yeah, take it!” Genji agreed, growling the words with a huge grin at this intimate proof of Cole’s infidelity. “Spread open, cowboy, wider. Wider! Fuck, I’d wondered why it was so easy to open you up, but look at Hanzo’s huge cock! No wonder you can take everything so easy. He opened the way, and now whole armies could march through. Thank you, brother!” he said, addressing the holoscreen. “Thank you for making Cole’s ass so soft, so pliant, so accepting, and thank you for also leaving it nice and tight, to fit like a glove around my cock so I can enjoy what’s rightfully yours!”

Cole came with a feverish moan, spurting all over himself, his body hair already matted to his skin from Genji fucking the cum out of him at the breakfast table, on the benches in the gym, and in the lockerroom.

The day before Hanzo’s return, Genji took out his phone just as Cole finished swallowing the aphrodisiac. “Let’s see,” he muttered thoughtfully as Cole swallowed the pink drink and wiped his mouth. “Hangar, lab, kitchen, rec room, conference room, interrogation room, launch pad…” 

He continued listing off locations, which took a while, long enough for the aphrodisiac to start rushing through Cole’s blood.

“...boiler room, the janitor closet on the first floor, the janitor closet on the second floor, the janitor closet on the third floor, and the janitor closet on the fourth floor,” he finally finished and, with a sly, slightly evil smile, he looked up at Cole. “That’s everywhere! Except…”

“Except?” Cole asked, demanded really, as he came up behind Genji and wrapped his arms around him from behind, slotting his erection into his asscrack.

Genji showed him his phone.

Cole swallowed.

They headed immediately to Cole and Hanzo’s quarters.

Cole fucked Genji on Cole and Hanzo’s bed. Then Genji fucked Cole on Cole and Hanzo’s bed.

They kept switching, fucking, sucking, stroking, thrusting, bouncing, slamming, but while Genji swallowed down and buried deep within himself every drop of Cole’s cum, he didn’t allow Cole any of his.

Every time he started to cum, he pulled out of Cole’s mouth or Cole’s ass or Cole’s hands or Cole’s legs or Cole’s pecs to spray his semen all over the sheets.

Cole and Hanzo’s sheets.

Marking his brother’s marriage bed with his essence.

Cole couldn’t decide what was hotter, Genji defiling this most sacred and intimate space with his spunk, or the thought of bringing Hanzo here the moment the transport landed tomorrow and reconsecrating it with his husband’s sweat and semen as Hanzo rebranded Cole as Hanzo’s own, Hanzo’s one, and Hanzo’s only.

An incredible end to an incredible two weeks. Cole was so, so thankful to Genji; without him, he would have been absolutely miserable, trudging around the Watchpoint staring balefully into space before drinking himself stupid every single night until he finally passed out, only to awaken and repeat the wretched cycle fourteen times. 

Instead, he had passed out each night held in his brother-in-law’s arms, warm, sated, and absolutely drenched in cum.

The better alternative, to be sure.

However, he could still say that it was at long, long last that the two weeks were over, and he woke up that morning with his heart bright with anticipation of seeing Hanzo again, of holding Hanzo in his arms, of Hanzo fucking his brains out and Cole fucking Hanzo’s brains out.

It was going to be amazing to have his husband back.

His phone rang, and Hanzo’s picture flashed on the screen.

“Hello, my darling, hello! You breaking radio silence?” he exclaimed as he answered the phone.

“Indeed, my love,” came Hanzo’s low, sonorous voice, thick and glowing with happiness and relief. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“And yours, too,” Cole said softly.

Behind him on Cole and Hanzo’s bed, Genji stirred, his eyebrows scrunched in that cute way when he was waking up, and his dark eyes opened, and he smiled as he took in Cole’s dopey, lovestruck grin as he continued speaking on the phone.

But Hanzo wasn’t here yet.

Cole didn’t resist as Genji rose up and started rearranging Cole’s body. He arranged Cole on all fours while Cole gabbed and laughed and conversed with his husband happily, and he timed the moment when he sank his cock into Cole’s still liberally lubed and cum-filled ass at a moment when Cole was already sighing contentedly at the prospect of Hanzo landing in only an hour.

There was no fear of discovery. Athena commanded a veritable army of cleaning drones that had dutifully mopped up every last dreg of evidence from the past two weeks, and the last step would be washing Cole and Hanzo’s sheets. It would be like nothing had ever happened.

It seemed, however, that there would be at least one piece of evidence, but Hanzo was so unsuspicious of Cole, in direct contrast to nearly everyone else in the world, that he would never recognize it for what it was.

Genji grit his teeth and threw his head back, holding back his cries of ecstasy with difficulty since he had been so unrestrained the past two weeks as he unloaded one last time into Cole’s ass.

When the last echoes and shudders of his orgasm faded away, he draped himself over Cole’s broad back, then reached out and hit the mute button as Hanzo was describing in a whisper what he was going to do to Cole as soon as he got back.

“Tell him you’re already lubed up,” Genji whispered into Cole’s ear.

Cole shivered at the thought of Hanzo unknowingly using his brother’s cum to slam home into Cole’s body.

He unmuted the call.

“...and then,” Hanzo murmured, hidden away in some corner of the transport away from the rest of his team, “I’m going to coat my fingers until they’re absolutely dripping, and work you open until you’re sloppy and loose.”

“Somebody beat you to it. Sorry, darling,” Cole crooned, feeling Genji grinning over his shoulder, “I’m already open and dripping and ready for you. You could pound me into the ground the second you step off the transport if you wanted.”

Silence.

Then Hanzo sucked in a breath, and Cole could hear the need, the utter lust his husband was feeling at that moment.

“I think I happen to know a place in the hangar bay,” Hanzo purred, “where we won’t be seen.”

Cole smiled.

[megbox]

2022 Year In Review

Previous Posts: (2021)(2020)(2019)(2018)(2017)(2016)(2015)(2014)(2013)(2012)(2011)

As I sit here to write this, I am devoid of any profound takeaways or overarching themes to assign to 2022. It's not that nothing happened. On all accounts, it was actually an incredibly eventful year. But in some ways, it feels like all the same stuff. I continue to fall for the wrong people and act out when they behave exactly how one might predict them to. I continue to love running. I continue to advance in my career. I guess the new things about 2022 are that I have had to reckon with some serious changes to my lifestyle due to underlying health conditions that I have only recently become aware of, and I took on the additional challenge of starting graduate school. However, both of these things ultimately push me to be a better person. Particularly graduate school has been the kind of wake up call my brain needed. I can complain all I want about being busy but the reality is that I fucking love it. I love learning statistics and getting a 94% on my assignment and contributing in class discussions and reading articles and actually having takes on them because I'm a real deal professional. It's been good for my ego, if anything else.

And so I present once more: the annual year in review.

January

Sigh. Until I sat down to write this, I completely forgot that I had an entire boyfriend at the beginning of 2022. When I find myself lamenting about the lack of romance in my life, quickly remembering Bryan always does the trick to snap me back into reality. On paper, it should have worked out. Bryan was (is) a great guy, he cared about me and went out of his way to demonstrate that to me. He liked to run. He brought me flowers on Valentine’s Day and once drove two hours out of his way from Canmore to Calgary and back just to drop me off before he went ski touring. We spent a week together in his family’s absurdly beautiful Canmore condo, quarantining after Maddy woke up on January 1 with a positive COVID test after we’d been sharing drinks all night, watching Netflix documentaries about climbing, going in the hot tub, ordering ramen and having a ton of sex.

Dating him felt like dunking my face in ice water. It felt like finally seeing a movie that everyone else has been talking about for years and all the little references in other movies make sense in your brain. It was like… you can ask for that from a boyfriend? And as much as I enjoyed the way he liked me, my stupid brain could not figure out a way to reciprocate those feelings. My friends told me to wait it out, they reminded me that I tend to choose the wrong people and that maybe a slow burn is exactly what I needed. They were totally right. And so I resolved to wait, to give things an earnest chance to develop. But they didn’t. I realized I needed to break up with him when Maddy and I were driving back from Edmonton after a weekend visit with our then-boyfriends. As Maddy gushed about how great of a weekend she had and how she couldn’t wait to see Audla again, I stared at my reflection in the car window, nodding along but feeling a sense of dread creep over me as I reconciled with the fact that I was definitely going to have to break up with the nicest guy I had ever dated.

Hm, January was relatively uneventful. I did a lot of very cold winter running, and Wordle took over my life and the lives of my loved ones.

February

A spin studio opened up approximately one minute away from my apartment in Mission with an unlimited first month deal for $39, so I recall February as the month I became a spin class bitch. February was bitterly cold, and I was still working from home at the time with no other gym membership so it came at a good time. I do love spin class. I went almost every single day, sometimes twice a day. I like the electronic remixes of every song, I like the choreography, I like staring at myself in the mirror on the bike thinking “yes, bitch! Get it!”

I broke up with Bryan. On Valentine’s Day, actually. It was kind of strange. He was in Canmore for a bachelor party the weekend before, and had planned to spend the evening of Valentine’s Day with me because a) girlfriend and b) prevent driving 4 hours from Banff to Edmonton after bachelor party. So even though we had “broken up”, I said he was welcome to still stay here. He definitely thought he was getting laid. I guess you can’t blame him, but… he was not. That was the last day I saw him. We keep each other on social media and toss each other a Strava kudos here and there and that is just fine by me. He has a new girlfriend now who appreciates all of the wonderful things he does the way he deserves.

Ironically, both of these things led to the almost-immediate resurgence of a past lover. Like a karmic message from the universe – here was someone who I never questioned my attraction to. But I’d given up on it when I met Bryan. He lived only a few blocks away from me, and works as a paramedic out of a nearby hospital. As if on cue, he emerged one morning on 4 Street, walking past me in his North Face coat and black Vans. We locked eyes for a split second as I left spin class at 6:50am. Extreme restraint was exercised in not turning around to watch him after I realized who it was. I laughed at the coincidence, smirked, sent a few “Omg guess who I just saw?” text messages and forgot about it. He messaged me a photo he’d taken on our first date with no context a week later.

The Olympics were also on in February and I delighted in spending a lot of time watching snowboarding, skiing, and figure skating while I ate soup dumplings. The Olympics even inspired me to take my own cross country skiing lesson through Active Living at the University. Frankly, a bold move because I signed up all by myself and drove out to Kananaskis and tried a new thing which is highly uncharacteristic. I vividly remember thinking my car was going to run out of gas, and mentally preparing for how I was going to deal with that on Highway 40 with no cell service, I was counting down the kilometres when as if by fate a gas station appeared on the side of the road. I could have cried. I would’ve been so screwed.

March

From March 4-6, I completed the Goggins 4x4x48 challenge. I attempted it last year and failed, and so I was determined this year to do things right. To increase accountability, even though it pained me to do this publicly, I did it as a fundraiser for CommunityWise. I would say that the first ~4 rounds were fun. Lucas stayed over and ran with me outdoors for the midnight and 4:00am runs. There is something so deliciously unhinged about running four miles at 4:00am through the streets of Rideau Park, blasting ABBA. Lucas was also the person waiting for me at the very end of the challenge almost two days later, with a package of macarons and a smile. I feel this experience cemented Lucas and I as really close friends. My quads were aching so hard I could barely walk, I was so sleep deprived that by night two I was in the worst mood and just snapping at everybody, but miraculously we got it done. 77km in 48 hours, and I raised over $1,000 for CommunityWise. I took the Monday off of work but oddly, didn’t even need it. Will I be braving the Goggins challenge again? No. Well… never say never. But also, never.

I also facilitated my first ASIST workshop in March. By a lot of standards, this is an unremarkable thing. But for me, I have a lot of pride in being certified to facilitate ASIST because I feel like it is such a representation of my professional development as a social worker. Two days, eight hours of facilitation per day and it’s not easy. But having jumped through the hoops to become trained, and really just being trusted to teach people these skills and walk them through these difficult conversations. It is one of the most tangible ways in my job I get to actually help my community and have an impact and it feels good. Selfishly, the feedback I receive after every ASIST feels so validating and I’m very proud of myself for having this skill and being an ASIST trainer.

Paramedic Man (also known as, The Short King) and I hung out a few days after I’d finished the Goggins challenge. I remember it was International Women’s Day, and he’d playfully roast me and I’d say, “you can’t say that on International Women’s Day.” I went to the fancy liquor store in Mission and told the salesperson I had a first date, he recommended some wine and said it will for sure get you laid. He was right. I settled into the familiar anxiety of an unpredictable, bread crumb-y situationship. I didn’t think about Bryan at all.

April

I made an unhinged decision (shocker) and accepted an offer from a different previous lover (look, if you take one thing away from this Year in Review, let it me that I am a slut) to come visit him in Squamish over my birthday weekend. I want to be explicitly clear that accepting this offer was not sketchy. Emma and I had met him on our trip the previous summer and he was a perfect gentleman. Carbon restructuring engineer with a penchant for cocktails who took us to a secret cidery. I was legitimately excited but that trip turned out to be the biggest flop of all time. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such rampant alcoholism up close like that. I don’t know if I didn’t notice it back in August or if things had taken a decline since last summer. The first night was actually good. He picked me up, having just “come from work” he said, and we had a few drinks at the condo he shared with his roommates and their dates, and then we went to a beautiful concert at the Brackendale Art Gallery. We split a bottle of wine and he showered me in compliments and I was like hell yeah, this is what I came here for. The next morning, he was… incapacitated. Literally. He was rocked by such a forceful hangover that there’s simply no way the only alcohol he consumed was that wine. He was literally tremoring! He had promised me a hike to a secret sauna that only the locals knew about. When we finally managed to get him out of bed around 2:00pm, we set out to find the sauna, he forgot where it was and then called it quits. We went for sushi lunch and he ordered a glass of chardonnay and then said he couldn’t stomach anything else. We got back to his place around 4:30pm and he put Rush Hour 2 on Netflix and promptly fell asleep. His roommates had begun their nightly ritual of drinking immediately upon getting home from work so I went down to join them, leaving him in bed. They drank, and drank, and drank. I was so desperate to get the fuck out of there. He was supposed to drive me into Vancouver the next morning to catch my flight but his roommates were going to Whistler to go snowboarding. At one point, clearly having realized I was having the worst time of my life, he asked if I’d be okay with it if he bought me a bus ticket and dropped me off. I was overjoyed. I went to bed and he did not return until 4:00am. My bus was at 6:00am. He was absolutely still drunk when he dropped me off at the bus. I waited until I was within city limits, blocked him on Instagram and have never spoken to him again. Lesson learned. However – the funniest thing to come out of that whole experience was that I was in such shock at the disarray of this man’s life since August that I was constantly updating my friends and I just put everyone in a group chat. At one point I sent a photo of his couch and kitchen counter to illustrate my point and the roasts that came out of that… honestly, maybe worth it.

April was also a special time because I received my acceptance to the Master of Public Health program at the University of Alberta. Just a few days before my birthday! I had kind of forgotten about that application, to be honest, and at that point had no idea how I was going to arrange it with work or pay for it or any of those details. But I can’t deny that receiving that email made my day. It felt good to have a plan, a next step. And you can’t deny that an MPH holds a lot more weight than a BSW or a fricking journalism degree.

May  

Okay, May was actually a very important month of this year. So many of the major things that unfolded over the year can be linked back to origins in May.

Of particular note, the Pet Rabbit Debacle. Paramedic Man knew just how to activate my anxious attachment style and kept making plans with me only to cancel at the last minute. I got mad at him for this and he promised to make it up to me. He came over but was clearly distracted by something on his phone. He kept apologizing, and though I didn’t ask any questions he offered the excuse: “My friend’s pet rabbit ate something potentially poisonous and she’s just freaking out.” I said to him, “if you need to go, you can go” but he declined. At one point, I asked what the rabbit’s name was. “Scully,” he said. “Like, from X Files?” “Yeah, exactly.” I was annoyed. It sounded like the worst possible excuse you could ever use to get out of a date but then he didn’t even have the courage to actually leave. I resolved to stop putting in any effort with him. In the coming days, the Instagram algorithm gave me a precious gift. It’s a tale as old as time, really. He posted something on Instagram, a comment from a girl I recognized as his ex-girlfriend, I visited her page, she posted a photo of a pet rabbit, the rabbit has an account of its own, the rabbit’s name is Scully. The puzzle clicked together in my head. Part of me was like, okay, so the rabbit is real. The other part is like, but… it’s his ex’s rabbit. Now this is where the meddling begins. I noticed she had a mutual follower with a friend of mine from the Famoso days. I texted him, “how do you know her?” Innocently. He said, “she’s my manager at X bar, why?” I asked him, “do you know if she has a boyfriend?” “Yeah, insert Paramedic Man’s name here. Why?” Oops.

I also signed up for (was recruited for, actually) the Kananaskis 100 Mile Relay. Which was really the impetus I needed to get running more seriously in advance of Sinister 7 after having a very lazy spring.

I presented at a conference on May 14, on my Peer Listening program and how to embed peer support into larger networks of formal support. Other post-secondary staff workers attended from all over Alberta. Another check mark for professional development and social worker pride.

On May 16, I donated blood for the first time! This was perhaps the most crucial moment of my entire year, and in a domino effect kind of way, truly changed the course of my life forever and no, I am not kidding. The actual first donation was very uneventful. I walked to the blood clinic, focused on a grey spot on the wall while they took my blood and tried not to faint, downed a Sprite and some Cheetos and went on with my life. Because I am a data nerd, I downloaded the GiveBlood app. A few days later, my “stats” appeared in my account. Hemoglobin. Bleed time.

I spent the May long weekend in Meota, Saskatchewan with Ali, her mom, her stepdad, and his dad, Maurice. We referred to it as her “bachelor party.” It was the kind of perfect weekend that you can only have with someone you love and trust so dearly. I felt like a little kid again, returning to the lakes of Saskatchewan. We went fishing and although I caught a fish both times, I screamed whenever it came near me. Ali and I filmed TikTok dances on the deck late at night. We watched a hockey game and explored the tiny town of Meota with its beautiful golf courses. We went “jeeping” – a Saskatchewan pastime I had not yet experienced but instantly loved until we went to explore a creek and instantly got covered in ticks. If I get Lyme disease, it’s from that creek, for sure.

June

June meant a lot of running. It was like the running equivalent of staying up until 4am the night before a big exam trying to cram knowledge into your brain. Emma’s team from BLG for the Kananaskis 100-Mile Relay had asked me to run a leg, and we had Sinister 7 coming up in the first weekend of July. I had really slacked off in the spring, so I was forced to reconcile this by committing myself to 5-6 weeks (an abysmal amount of time for this calibre of race, unfortunately) of dedicated training. Knowing what I know now about my health at this time of the year, it makes sense why it did not really work. But I appreciated past-me’s hustle.

The actual day of the K-100 was one of my favourite experiences of the year. I asked the team captain, Jared, if I could ride with him in the crew car. We spent like, sixteen hours together in that car. Jared and I had known of one another for a long time through Emma and through the larger running community in Calgary but that day was the first time we had actually had the chance to meet. I have perhaps never hit it off with someone so quickly.  Someone else whose idea of an amazing day is to run 100 miles of Highway 40 with your friends in the summer. My leg went… okay. I took off SO fast, way too fast, and then the rest of my leg was uphill so I did a lot of walk/jogging. It’s actually so sad that this race came at this point in the year. I am capable of so much MORE. But hopefully at some point in the future I am offered an opportunity to redeem myself.

But the absolute best part of June and also one of the best parts of this whole year was that Ali and Cody got married! I had the honour of being a bridesmaid and it was such an incredible day. The bridal party got to Ali’s early and in typical Ceaser fashion there was an absolute SPREAD of every conceivable breakfast and brunch item your heart could ever desire. We got hair and makeup done, drank a lot of mimosas, listened to a lot of romantic pop music, shared a lot of tears. When the torrential downpour started 90 minutes before the ceremony, everyone bit their tongues. Riding to Reader Rock Garden with Matt and another one of the bridesmaids as the rain hit the windshield so fast the wipers could barely keep up, and the cab driver cringed and said, “you said you guys are going to an outdoor wedding?” And it was silent. But in the most beautiful stroke of luck, the sun broke through the clouds like five minutes before the ceremony and Reader Rock Garden was absolutely glistening with fresh raindrops falling off of every radiantly green leaf and flower and my fake eyelashes. I sobbed… absolutely SOBBED when Ali walked down the aisle and through most of that ceremony. Ali is my first friend to get married which somehow just makes sense. But to see it all come together just did something special to my heart. It helps that she married the best guy in the entire world who I also love dearly. Watching something like that happen just makes all of the tears you cried together about much shittier dudes feel irrelevant, barely a blip on the universe of life.

July

So, so much happened in July. It earns bullet points:

I participated in my very first Sinister 7! Sinister 7 was such a fucking trip. It felt like being on the amazing race. Seven Kings Popping Off did exactly what we said we were going to do and absolutely popped off, finishing third (but then were bumped up to second because the second place team was all dudes and were incorrectly registered... #men) for the mixed relay teams. 161km and thousands of meters of elevation gain over seven runners. I contributed objectively the least to this win. If I am being honest, runningwise I did not have the most fun at Sinister 7. I performed poorly, injured myself, and was basically just like the personality hire of the team. Again, I know I am capable of so much more and I look forward to one day being able to show that. But the actual experience of being at the race was incredible. The camaraderie between our team, meeting Elspeth who ran a 50-miler and then hit the Cowboys tent at Stampede the next night, having Reid come out and stay with us and absolutely CRUSH his leg. I felt delirious by the end of it, trudging back into the Airbnb at 3:00am, my drunkness long dissolved.

THEN we visited Eugene for World Athletics Championships. God, there's so much I could write but my focus and patience in crafting this year in review is waning. Highlights: MEETING CRAIG ENGELS AT THE NIKE STORE. Seeing the Canadian men's 4x100m team upset the Americans in the final. Lovely's Fifty Fifty.

And then I topped off my wonderful trip away with a return to Big Valley Jamboree. Inspired by my wonderful friends. Lots of magic mushrooms were consumed. "Chef's Table." The death of Matt's Van. Tim McGraw. Love. Friendship. Margaritas.

August

I decided to focus on heart-rate based training after being in Oregon (and Sinister 7) and seeing all of these effortless distance runners in Alton Baker Park. Again, knowing what I know now about my health, it makes sense that this did not really work. But I have to admit the heart rate training did recalibrate my approach to running. It did amazing things for my stress levels, my mileage was extremely high. While it may not have helped my heart rate come down, there is absolutely merit to integrating phases of heart rate based training in the future and that was valuable learning.

I started school! And what a start it was. A two week, intensive, eight-hours-a-day block week course in which they simulated a flood and gave us harsh deadlines and made us work in teams of twelve. This experience was rendered even more stressful by the fact that what had started out in such a wholesome, lovely way with Jared had now lapsed into long response times. Or just no responses at all. I was simultaneously frustrated with his behaviour and frustrated at myself for letting yet another boy get in the way of being able to apply myself to my work, to my program, and to my own wellbeing. A simple, “hey, we should hang out soon J” text message to somebody who has been pursuing you left unanswered for an entire week. I hate who I become when this happens to me. Checking my phone incessantly. Then muting the notifications anyway because then maybe it’ll spontaneously be there. But it’s not there, ever. The response I was so desperately craving came a week later when I was at Globalfest with Connor. I don’t think we should pursue this. I don’t want to compromise the friend group or our running group. Cue eyeroll. Like, just tell me her name already. I say that now but admittedly, I was pretty devastated.

Another great part about August was that we played in a slow pitch tournament in Okotoks. This was the birth of our new team: Hawaii 5-Slo. Which is the product of a divorce from our previous team, We’d Hit That, where the competitive assholes among us split from the let’s-just-drink-beer-who-cares. I don’t think I need to clarify which team I ended up on. The tournament was actually crazy because it was torrentially bad weather. At one point, we ended up in the Blackfly tent being plied with free 7% bottled margaritas as we watched our paltry tents across the field get whipped by the wind. We played a few games, did poorly, attempted to wait it out and ultimately bailed to spend the night at Megan Kemper’s place in Okotoks which was ABSOLUTELY the right move. We ordered pizza, I took a shower, slept in a real bed. The best part of this tournament was that the team who defeated us in the second morning approached me after the game and asked if I would consider playing with them for the finals because they needed an extra girl. I said yes, went to finals, WON! and made a whole bunch of new friends. I even drove from that game into the city to play another game with them for their CSSC league that night, and continued to sub for them through the fall season.

September

This is where the story of this year becomes much more concerned with my health. In early September, I went for a second blood donation. During the pre-test, they measured my hemoglobin as is standard practice and the nurse noted to me that mine was quite low. No cause for concern, he said, but maybe check it out with your doctor. When my stats showed up in the GiveBlood app (because of course I check my stats), I noted that my hemoglobin was like, really low. Low enough that if it was any lower they would not have taken my blood that day. So I called and got an appointment with my family doctor. She waved it off but said she’d do a blood test just to check. I left the office requisition in hand and promptly stuck it to the side of my fridge on a magnet where it stayed for many many weeks.

The rest of September is a bit of a blur, to be honest. This is where I began the delicate juggling act of full time work, school, running, and just generally living my life.

October

So many things happened in October!

On October 1, I moved to Bridgeland into a really nice little two bedroom apartment with Maddy. Let me tell you, people, Bridgeland is where it’s AT. I had been sleeping on this neighbourhood but it’s easily become my favourite place I have ever lived. I brought all my furniture and Maddy brought all her knick-knacks and plants and our apartment is so fucking cute. My extroverted self also definitely appreciates having a friend and a roommate around. Some people might view moving in with a roommate after living on your own as like, a step backward. But after that lonely pandemic – why would I not take a nicer place, cheaper rent, and company? Please. Definitely one of the best choices I made this year.

I also ran in the Grizzly Ultra! I ran on a team with Rob, and Emma ran her first 50k ultra as a soloist. It was an incredibly beautiful day out in Canmore, like could not ask for a better day. I ran way better than I thought I could! And Rob and I managed to come third for the mixed teams (we really should have come second if I had hustled a little harder at the end). Emma did so well in her solo race and then we went back to the hotel room and drank beers and watched Forrest Gump on the hotel television.

Taylor Swift released Midnights on October 22. I went to a listening party at Carly’s and enjoyed every millisecond of it but especially how excited Carly was.

I played in a snow pitch tournament which, in typical CSSC slow pitch tournament fashion, was a mess. They even had it earlier this year to lessen the chances of this happening but there was SO MUCH SNOW. And it was thick, wet snow. The ball would basically immediately stop wherever it landed on the pitch. It made for an interesting day, that’s for sure. But we managed to win the tournament. And I slept with my teammate after. So, that actually makes me 2 for 2 in getting laid after snow pitch tournaments. And all is right with the world.

I woke up on the morning of October 29 to not one but two late night messages! One of which was from Jared. It’s like clockwork. Give it two, maybe three months and you wake up to a message like the one I got. You would think I would learn. But of course, I never do.

November

In November, I finally got around to getting my blood test and was confirmed to be suffering from severe anemia iron deficiency. This made sense. Symptoms began to piece together a story explained from the viewpoint of anemia. That mid-afternoon tiredness I thought I was curing with a “adrenal cocktail”? The unreasonably high heart rate and lack of progress despite months and months of dedicated training? The coldness and numbness? The frequent headaches? The change I felt when I started on iron pills was incredible.

I also registered for the Saskatchewan Marathon in November, which was scary and exciting at the same time. Me, former racer of the 100m and 200m dash, taking on the 42,200m.

More happened with Jared and I in November but I honestly… don’t want to talk about it. And this is literally my blog so I can write whatever the fuck I want. Let’s just leave it at: he wasn’t very kind. I wish it had never happened.

December

So, here is where the life altering news comes in. In the absence of any glaring cause for anemia, it is standard practice to screen for celiac disease. This is because people with undiagnosed celiac disease often have damage to their intestines that is causing the malabsorption of nutrients. My doctor explained this to me and requested that I have another blood test done. I was so certain that I was not celiac that I did not think anything of getting this test done.

But on December 6, 2022 in my office on My Health Records – I was shocked to see that my level of antibodies were literally off the charts. They were so high they were at a level unmeasurable to the test. I texted my brother. “That’s positive for celiac.”

On December 7, 2022 a call from my doctor’s office. “You’re sure it can’t be anything else?” I asked, desperate. “This is pretty much what we would call a slam dunk, from a diagnostic perspective,” she told me. What ensued was a 72-hour mental breakdown that rivals any heartbreak or trauma I’ve been through before. I don’t know how to explain it. I could. not. stop. crying. Could not stop thinking about everything I can’t do. Everything I can’t eat. Everything I can’t participate in. I had to take like, 10 melatonins just to sleep at night. I cried every time someone said something to me at work. I hid in my office and forced myself to eat Lara bars. But I also just didn’t eat for three days because food suddenly seemed scary, and like the enemy. If I am to be completely honest, I think a large part of this emotional reaction to the diagnosis was also sadness at thinking about my poor body. It may not have felt sick but it was really sick. And I knew something was wrong. Would I have guessed this? No. But I think about all of the work I put this body through and how much I cherish what it does for me and allows me to do. And the fact that I have been really sick. For maybe a really long time. Made me sad. So it was grieving but in a way, also relief. With diagnosis comes labels. It comes restrictions. It comes lifestyle changes. But it also comes answers, explanations, cures. Celiac disease is the only auto immune disease for which there is a full cure. Just don’t eat gluten and your intestines heal and life goes on.

Another piece of life altering news that I got actually a few hours post-celiac diagnosis was that I got a huge promotion and a $12,000 raise at my job. This promotion and raise is absolutely deserved. I work really fucking hard and have been really underpaid at this job for a long time. But given that I’m in a union, it took a lot of advocating for myself and proving my worth to my team in order to be in this position. We are NOT in Kansas anymore. This is serious, real deals social work and I am extremely proud of myself for working my way up to this level in just three years.

2023

In 2023, I look forward to taking control of my health and seeing what a gluten free life does for my mind and body and spirit and intestines. I am already seeing huge progress in my running and I can’t wait to build on it and just… be healthy.

I have SO many good concert tickets in 2023. Death Cab for Cutie (twice), Alvvays, Andy Shauf, Blink 182, Taylor fricking Swift, The Postal Service. Lots of music related travel. A tentative trip to Palm Springs for Stagecoach at the end of April. So much to look forward to.

I also am excited to dedicate myself to marathon training and see what I can do on May 28in Saskatoon!

[eldrai]

(not fic) i don't even know what this is but i had to write it down somewhere so.

August 2020 // September 2023

3am. i sneak downstairs for ice from the freezer. stuffed between the untouched frozen strawberries and melon because the therapist suggested smoothies. it feels enough like trespassing i keep the light off. the feeling lingers through the day too.

besides, i'm allowed in the kitchen; all the sharp things are locked away. an overreaction, i think, based on what they know. a greenish bruise and a rough patch of scratches. they heal in a cracked sort of pattern and it captivates me more than anything else has in the last six months.

and i'm upstairs, ice clinking in the glass i try not to think about. i try not to imagine the force it would take to shatter it on the pavement outside. the jagged edges. and it's desperate, last-ditch. probably wouldn't even work.

my palm burns cold-sharp. i'm staring at the ceiling as the ice melts in my hand. it runs along my hand and drips between my fingers. i'm not sure if i learnt the trick from the therapist or online.

there's something behind it. only ice, only water. but it quiets the urge for tonight. takes it from hurting myself to wanting to. if i'm lucky i'll fall asleep: no matter how long i sleep, i'm exhausted.

there's condensation on my bedside table in the morning, a neat ring. i've only been on the meds a few weeks and they say six to eight for full effect. so as i reach for the glass to wash them down, i still think about shattering it, about dying, about the quiet in the evenings when everyone is out. i dread september and my future, can't imagine seeing through two entire years.

but i feel less awful than yesterday morning.

//

2am. the cat is stretched across an entire step. i stop to pet her, just for a minute, and i almost feel guilty when she gives me a squinty slow blink. undeserving of the absolute love there.

when i pull the cracked drawer open, i wince at the squeak it makes. everyone is a heavy sleeper and it's a hot night. it's fine. i just don't want to wake them. i haven't tried the ice in a year or so and i can only hope it still works as well. the cravings are worse, the hurt is worse. i regret that more than anything else.

and i'm upstairs, ice already starting to melt, and i tip a cube into my hand. water trickles between my fingers. my palm stings. it stings, but not the right kind. even on my wrist directly the sensation is too different. instead of soothing, it just reminds me what it's meant to feel like.

i wait it out. i remember staring at the ceiling and not moving until there was nothing but water in my hand. it helped then. i've been on the meds what, three years? i couldn't tell you, really, those years blur and warp like waterstained pages. i know things happened. that's about it. and they work, i think. they just don't work as well as they used to. maybe it's a good thing, means i'm better. maybe it's bad, means i'm losing my only real help.

the ice melts. i am distracted only in the sense i have both hands full. the cravings aren't better. they might actually be worse. i can't remember what it felt like that night. whether it was sadness or numbness, whether it felt better than this. different bed, different ceiling, different hand, different house. so much is different but here i am again. dug in deep. stuck in the cycle. it's all grey and hopeless. i close my eyes and all i can think about are the mistakes i made to lead me here. i was better, when i made the choice to get worse. i honestly was. if i had waited then, maybe if i had gone and got ice, let the curiosity stay curiosity.

maybe i'd be here regardless. i don't check it every day but i know it's been a bit over two months since i started tracking. it's frustration more than anything that keeps me from giving in. what use is two months if i'm resetting it on a ten-minute whim?

it drips between my fingers. far too cold to be blood, for which i'm glad: it's a pain to get it out the carpet. the ice doesn't hold my focus for long. i think, i think, i think. it's about all i can do. i got through those years, impossible as they seemed, yet it doesn't feel impressive or an achievement or a relief. just... over. i don't know what's coming next. i'm terrified of a future i don't even want-- i don't want to die, not like i used to. it's just i don't much want to live.

can't tell if that counts as progress but it doesn't feel like it. not when the thoughts are loud as ever.

[feralfaro]

OPINION ;; BODY HORROR & THE FATE OF TED FARO

@cosmologyofgaming already wrote a very nice take on Thebes that I didn't want to piggyback on [but still recommend reading, if anyobody takes reading recommendations from a blog named "ted faro apologist"], so here's my own two cents:

Most horror movies centered around creatures [not counting classic monster movies like Godzilla, Shark movies, mummy or werewolf movies where you already have a general idea of what it looks like] really stand and fall with the creature design.

You know it's THERE, you've seen a shape moving in the background, a silhouette or figure in the trees, and there is this sense of dread of what ungodly horror beyond our comprehension might lurk there — and if they don't manage to pull that off, the tension immediately just collapses into itself. [This unfortunatly also appplies to video games in a sense - Bioshock is my favourite game ever but upon finally meeting Fontaine the tension went from 10 to -4]

I always found that HZD wasn't as much of a game that confronted you directly with the horrors it presented, but a game that made you experience the horror that happened by-proxy, through voice recordings and messages of the final hours people lived through, through seeing the carcasses of the swarm frozen in battle with the rusty remains of tanks, though holograms and military sites long abandoned and devoid of life, seemingly frozen in time.

I feel Ted is the same. It's not a direct visual, but the implications that carry so much weight; 1000 years in complete isolation, nobody to talk to but your own, disjointed thoughts as you slide further and further into madness and, both physically and psychologically, lose all sense of self, all sense of humanity, becoming nothing but a bunch of cells driven to stay alive by animalistic instincts.

Seeing the mutation wouldn't have mattered in that sense as it wasn't Ted anymore, except on a biological, DNA related level. "Ted" died when his consciousness and sense of self did, and I feel like seeing and being able to set fire to the thing as the player would bring no satisfaction.

It would be, if anything, more a Cronenberg-eque excursion into body horror than a creature moment.

I would have loved to see the "process" of him becoming immortal having worked with maybe only very minor mutations, [which would have been incredibly impactful considering how vanity is an implied trait for Ted Faro] but his mind just incredibly fractured beyond repair due to guilt and, more importantly, isolation. Seeing Aloy, mistaking her for Lis but not even being able to articulate that as he lost the ability to talk due to a millenia of silence. A man that is still largely self-aware of who he is, of what he is, with animalistic and irrate behaviour, more pitiful than arrogant, a husk — that would have been true horror.

I would have loved to been able to be given a choice at this point in the game -

FIST - kill him. ANGEREY.

HEART - Mercy kill.

BRAIN - Leave him to his fate. It will inevitably sort itself out.

[ I know this would have led to a bit of a clash regarding the entire storyline surrounding the Quen, but while we are at it - I would not mind having had to strangle the CEO with my own bare hands as he was the most insufferable POS that I had the misfurtune to encounter hroughout the entire series. ]

TL:DR;

Being confronted with the mutation and killing it would have brought no satisfaction, neither to the player, nor to Aloy - it's not Ted. It's a bunch of cells. Having been confronted with a still mostly human Ted, who due to loss of speech after 1k years of isolation cannot even talk back or try to justify, a Ted who is utterly lost in his own mind but still largely human and aware of what is happening, aware of how judgement has, finally after a millenia, caught up with him - and the player having to decide if this mess in front of them is even worth killing, or if leaving him to his pitiful existence, knowing too well that he won't survive longer than an hour if he ever sets foot outside of his temple of vainglory, is maybe even a worse fate than death, would have been much more impactful.

[kindahoping4forever]

You Feel Like A Holiday // Ashton Irwin

Of course the cabin would find its way into the Stage!Ash universe at some point! I was so excited when I came up with the concept for this Christmas fic last year, I actually paused writing the Halloween fic to start on this one lol. Thank you to @cal-puddies for enduring endless drafts of this and to everyone who requested the return of Stage!Ash over the past year, I always knew I'd get around to finishing these "lost" fics but I don't know that I'd have the confidence to post them so belatedly if it wasn't for the support and affection for this series.

This is somewhat of an ending to this series - I'd say it's enough of a conclusion to the emotional thread that if I never wrote this couple again, we'd all be satisfied but it's still open-ended enough for me to continue if it felt necessary. I'd love to know your thoughts on this!

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash, Stage!Ash: Christmas Getaway Edition. So much soft, romantic shit it's actually embarrassing, like I was clearly going through something. Brief mention of weed use, 69 (simultaneous oral sex), needy sex by the fireplace, cockwarming. Seriously, though, this fic will absolutely call you single. I'm the person who wrote it and it hurt MY feelings.

Word Count: 12k

Encore: A Stage!Ash Series Masterlist

Masterlist // Ko-Fi linked above

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

You rub your tired eyes and roll over to face the chuckling man laying in your bed beside you. “Wait… what? Are you serious?”

Ashton answers with a soft smile as he reaches over to run a hand gently down your back. “Baby, you’ve been dealing with a lot of stress already before this back-and-forth game you have going on with your parents. ‘Can’t wait for you to come home for Christmas… no, actually don’t, it’s not safe… OK, come home but don’t bring guests… and since you’ll already be here, might as well all quarantine through New Year’s and spend that together’,” he recaps the past couple weeks of messages you’ve relayed to him. 

“I guess it has been a lot,” you admit.

“Soooo, would you want to go up to the cabin, turn our phones off and spend Christmas just the two of us?” He repeats his suggestion. 

You frown, thinking. “I dunno, Ash… didn’t you say Mike was having a thing at his place? Since you can’t go home, you should still be with family.”

“I would be,” he says simply.

As if his offer wasn’t enough to floor you, the casual way he notes how close you’ve become leaves you speechless. You stare in dreamy disbelief at your boyfriend; even after dating for half a year, you’re still not sure how to respond when his earnestness catches you off guard like this.

Ashton is unfazed by your silence, leaning over your pillow to press a kiss to your forehead. “You deserve a break and you know your parents will be thrilled to see you no matter what date the calendar says.”

He starts to lay back down but you stop him by taking his face in your hands and kissing him. The look in his eyes when he pulls away tells you he understands how much this conversation has meant to you. “I have been wondering when I’d get my invitation up there,” you tease.

“Well, this is obviously a pity invite,” Ash giggles, unable to keep a straight face. “Plus, it’s way too cold for Calum this time of year.”

You land a few playful jabs to his side before he scoops you up to lay on his chest and the two of you discuss logistics until you fall asleep.

You decide to head out a few days before Christmas since there’s a storm making its way up the coast and you want to be settled before any rain or snow starts up. Telling your family about your change of plans goes much smoother than you expected and by the time you’re sitting in Ash’s passenger seat, tucking into a hot coffee and breakfast sandwich, you’re feeling relaxed already.

“It’s an easy trip up, just a couple hours,” he explains as he climbs in the car, waiting all of 8 seconds before planting his hand on your thigh. He queues up the playlist he put together for the ride and mentions, “There’s a market just down the road from my place, figure we can make a quick grocery and firewood stop on the way.”

You raise his hand to your lips, kissing it before placing it back on your leg where it belongs. “Sounds like a plan,” you chirp enthusiastically. 

As promised, the drive flies by - it’s always easy to lose track of time when you and Ash get to talking. At the store, you stroll the aisles together, breezing through the necessities list you made on the ride there. As you’re tossing the last of your items onto the checkout counter, Ashton casually announces he forgot something, hands you his car key and credit card and vows to meet you outside. Your curiosity outweighs your suspicion and you play along, paying the bill and pushing the cart out to the parking lot.

Midway through putting the bags in the trunk, you laugh to yourself as you realize you’d recognize the sound of his keys jangling on his belt loop anywhere. You turn around to see a grinning Ash headed towards you with a boxed artificial Christmas tree hoisted over his shoulder and two bags containing ornaments and lights hanging off his arms.

“Ash,” you sigh. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He cheerfully brushes off your comment and carefully fits the box in the car. “Well, what’s Christmas without a tree?” 

“We’re literally going to a forest,” you reply playfully.

He giggles as he pokes your side, unwilling to let you deflect from how touched you are by his gesture. “You’re welcome, baby.”  He pulls you in, kissing your temple.

It only takes a few more songs on the playlist to arrive at Ashton’s cabin and it's as peaceful and cozy as you’d hoped it would be. The pictures you'd seen and stories you'd heard definitely made it seem like an idyllic getaway but as you follow Ash into the charming avocado green house, you’re still surprised by how instantly at home and welcome you feel.

“Lemme get this fire going and then I’ll give you the grand tour,” he promises, quickly unpacking the supplies from the market.

You nod agreeably, watching as he shrugs off his coat and starts working to set up the fireplace. The way his large frame contrasts the small living room, how he so easily hauls the wood around, how carefully his hands work to arrange everything - it all makes you want to curl up into him and let yourself drown in his warmth. You know there’ll be plenty of time for that later so for now, you just admire from afar.

With the fire now warming the cabin, Ashton shows you around, beaming as he points out which features are his favorites and what he thinks you’ll love. It’s not a large property by any means but it takes a while to move through the space since of course he has an anecdote for just about every piece of art or furniture he selected.

“I hope it isn’t too cold to hang out back here. At night we’ve got heat lamps and the fire pit and in the mornings, the sun hits everything so perfectly,” he comments as you follow him onto the large deck. “Having the forest right there, almost like it’s my backyard… I could stay out here for hours. Writing, smoking, just thinking… it’s perfect for just about everything. There’s nothing like this view.”

“I’ll say,” you flirt, sliding your arms around his waist and snuggling into his side. 

He laughs, giving you a squeeze. “That’s so cheesy!”

You shake your head. “It’s true! I love watching how you get when you’re passionate about something.”

“Well in that case,” he says, smoothly bringing you into a slow kiss.

You giggle as you pull away, “That was cheesy.”

The two of you work together to unload the car and get your belongings somewhat organized. The weather stays agreeable enough for Ash to fire up the barbecue and grill some burgers for an early dinner. The evening is devoted to moving the furniture around so there’s room to assemble and decorate the Christmas tree you both now apparently own. 

“You realize we’re going to all this trouble just so we can undo it all in a couple days and lug everything all the way home?” You tease as you grab the popcorn out of the microwave, emptying it into a bowl to cool before you string it.

“Nah,” Ashton jovially shrugs off your remark, stepping back to admire the lights he’s just finished wrapping around the tree’s branches. “It’s fake so we can just leave it up and deal with it next time we visit… stick the box in the spare room and it’ll be here waiting for us next Christmas.”

There it is again: the way your heart skips a beat, that familiar warmth that floods your veins whenever he talks about the future. You’ve been together a matter of months and yet he so easily references being with you in a year’s time, like it’s a given - not that he takes your presence for granted but that it’s only logical you’d be spending another holiday season together. You’ve found each other and you belong with him now, your plans are his and his yours.

As your mind processes these thoughts, you cross the room and do what you’ve become accustomed to doing when you’re feeling overwhelmed: you slip your arms around your boyfriend and bury your face in his back. The knitted sweater he’s wearing is scratchy against your face but you don’t care, you press yourself harder against him, inhaling deeply, letting both his scent and his body heat ground you.

You can tell Ashton’s not exactly sure why you’re feeling the way you are but he knows enough to let you take what you need from him in this moment. He separates your clasped hands from around his torso and takes one in each of his hands, holding them tightly as he crosses his own arms around himself, essentially helping you hug him. 

He sways with you for a moment before gently breaking the silence because it’s in his nature to. “Popcorn smells good.”

You smile into his back, pressing a kiss to the center before loosening your hold on his body. “I was thinking about throwing another bag in to snack on while we decorate. We’ve got plenty.”

He turns around and cups your chin to kiss you softly. “Perfect.”

The next morning, you roll over, intending to curl up against Ash but instead are met with the feeling of cold sheets and an unoccupied pillow; your eyes shoot open, lips forming into a pout. The sound of an acoustic guitar strumming in the distance softens your mood instantly and you get out of bed, sliding your feet into a pair of slippers and draping a blanket over the shoulders of the henley you stole from Ash to sleep in, and you follow the music out onto the deck.

You step outside and discover that not only is the weather surprisingly mild for a December morning, it’s apparently warm enough that Ashton is out here, barefoot and in his bathrobe, spread out on the patio couch with his guitar. As you walk over, you note the empty coffee mug, picked over bowl of fruit and half-finished joint in the ashtray sitting on the fire pit ledge - it looks like he’s been out here a while.

“Mornin’, baby!” He greets you cheerfully, moving to a cross-legged position to make room for you on the couch. “Hope the music wasn’t too loud?”

“The music was nice, the bed was just too cold without you,” you explain, giving him a quick kiss before you sit down, murmuring at the combination of coffee, smoke and citrus on his lips.

“Aww, poor baby,” Ash playfully pouts, reaching over to squeeze your knee through your flannel pajama pants. “I wanted to make sure I got some writing time out here before the storm, my creativity is always so different up here. I didn’t think you’d be a fan of the early wakeup call, so I let you be.”

“My hero,” you grin, leaning over to kiss him more thoroughly, happily scratching over the fresh stubble adorning his previously clean-shaven cheeks. “Mmm, can one of my Christmas gifts be you not shaving while we’re here?”

“Didn’t even consider bringing a razor,” he laughs, leaning into your touch. 

You settle back and relax on the couch, listening to him skillfully pluck the steel strings of his guitar while you help yourself to the breakfast he abandoned. Ash was right, the morning sun hits just right, warming your skin and casting a luscious glow across the deck. He pauses his playing to scrawl something into a notebook and you study him as you pick up the still burning joint from the ashtray and take a puff. The way the sunlight catches the natural highlights in his hair, that one particular curl hanging over his furrowed brow as he writes, his jaw clenching and unclenching in concentration. You weren’t kidding when you said this was your favorite view.

He reaches over to set the guitar aside and you feel your eyebrows involuntarily raise at how it causes his robe to pull open slightly, exposing even more of his bare chest. His dark chest hair is already a tempting invitation to touch but the gold medallion resting between his pecs somehow makes him look even broader than usual and you find yourself unable to resist any longer.

You take another hit and scoot closer to your boyfriend, brushing the hair out of his eyes as he leans over his writing. “Hi,” you coo innocently, placing the joint between his lips, letting him take a puff before you return it to your own mouth.

“Hi,” he responds, simultaneously suspicious and amused as he watches you reach for the ashtray. “What’s up?”

You bat your eyelashes coyly, running your hand through his curls and down to cradle the base of his neck. “Nothin’... just like watchin’ you.”

He smiles sweetly, clearly basking in your attention. He plants a playful kiss on your lips before pulling away to laugh, “I almost said ‘good thing I like being watched’ but that sounds like a conversation for a different time.”

Surprise and desire light up your eyes as you pull him in by the collar of his colorful robe. “OK, so we’re definitely revisiting this topic,” you giggle naughtily. You don’t mean to kiss him with the full force of the hunger you’re feeling, you meant to play it cool for a little while longer but it’s hard not to get carried away when you’re with him. He meets your energy, tongue playing with yours as his fingers nimbly unfasten the buttons of your shirt, making room for him to slide his hands inside to paw at your breasts; your hands dip inside his robe, rubbing at his defined chest, brushing through the hair you’d been so eager to touch.

Your hands eventually travel further down and you chuckle as it dawns on you that you don’t feel the waistband of his underwear. “Excuse me, sir, are you seriously out here naked under this robe?” You cackle, tugging at the belt until the fit loosens so you can explore more.

Ashton shrugs, proudly declaring, “Just tryin’ to be one with nature.”

“Hey, I thought the cold was supposed to make guys smaller,” you joke as you let your fingers graze his cock.

He replies with a smirk, “Well that clearly doesn’t account for those who have their gorgeous beyond belief girlfriend with them.”

The grin you’ve been wearing is so wide by now, your face almost hurts. “Well played, sir. Well played,” you nod, shifting down the couch to position yourself on your knees, between his legs.

“We should also revisit the topic of you calling me ‘sir’,” he quips, his laugh turning to a groan as you open the robe fully and dip down to roll your tongue over the head of his cock. 

He starts, “Baby…” but never finishes the thought, the rest of his words swallowed in the deep breath he takes while he watches you ghost your lips up and down his shaft, the both of you relishing the feeling of him growing harder as you work. He presses back into the pillow resting against the arm of the couch and softly runs a hand through your hair, letting his touch tell you how much he appreciates you.

Your eyes flit up to meet his when your lips close around him and glide down his length. You both keep eye contact as your warm mouth begins moving up and down, until you close your eyes to concentrate on taking more of him but even then, you can feel his gaze steady on you, his attention focused on every bob of your head and swirl of your tongue. You hear him sigh your name as he hits the back of your throat before you sloppily pull back up, letting your spit fall freely, dripping onto his cock, making him shiny and wet for you.

You lock eyes with Ash again as you lift your head, stopping to suck at his tip, making sure to exaggeratedly pout your lips to emphasize how wide you have to open your mouth to accommodate his size. Judging from his glassy-eyed, slack-jawed expression, it’s no surprise to you when his lips move as if he intends to praise you but no sound emerges. Leaving Ashton speechless - especially during sex - is no small feat and you feel both pride and confidence surge through you as you pull off with a loud pop to address him.

“Seems like you’re a fan of watching me too, aren’t you, babe?” You tease, pumping him slowly.

He blinks rapidly, as if the process will reset his weed and lust clouded mind. He finally gives a chuckle of your name as he lolls his head back. “Just look so fuckin’ amazing when you take me,” he purrs dreamily. “Can’t keep my eyes off you. Love watching you be so good to me.”

His compliment immediately stokes the fire in you and you don’t want to waste another second not pleasing him. “Well then, you’ll definitely love seeing this,” you promise. You brace your hands on his thighs as you lower your mouth on his cock again, this time determined to take him into your throat as much as you possibly can.

“Jesus, love,” he whimpers as you sink further and further on him. You flutter your tongue while you work him down and out of the corner of your eye, you see his fist clenching the material of his robe as he fights the urge to thrust into your mouth. “So fucking good, baby…”

You reach your limit and start to come back up, lungs burning as you repress your need to breathe in favor of maintaining a heavy suction on his cock while you pull off. As soon as your lips are off him, Ashton’s hands are on you, holding you as you pant, pulling you up to him.

“C’mere,” he coaxes, thumbs tenderly wiping at the tears on your cheeks and the drool on your chin. His lips peck at your neck as you catch your breath and as he moves in to finally slot his lips with yours, you hear the breathy “good girl” your mind has been craving.

“I’m not done yet,” you quietly protest against his lips.

His teeth tug at your bottom lip as he pulls away. “I know,” he grins. His hands travel down your back, slipping inside your pajama pants to squeeze your ass. “You were just making me feel so good, I was getting impatient to show you my appreciation.” 

“Well… that’s fair,” you say with an air of mock arrogance before melting with a half-moan, half-laugh as he nips at your skin.

“Can I take these off?” He asks, hooking his thumbs inside the waistbands of your pants and underwear. You nod and the two of you fumble and giggle trying to undress your bottom half; you’re finally freed of the offending clothes and Ash lets his hands roam your bare ass as he gives you a kiss that’s somehow both calming and frantic in its passion. You gasp into his mouth as he brings his hand between your legs, gently tracing through your wetness. He rasps, “Yeah… I thought so, baby… knew my girl was needing some attention.”

You quietly whine and rock against his hand, wrestling with your desire to finish the blowjob but now also tempted to seek out your own orgasm as soon as possible. “Always need this kind of attention from you,” you admit, sighing as he leans forward to bury his face inside your shirt, mouthing over your tits.

He kisses you, wild with need, before looking up at you with fire in his eyes. “I have an idea if you’re up for trying something?” 

You agree with a cautious laugh and then Ashton is helping you to turn around so that you’re straddling him but facing away. About halfway through following his direction, a switch flips inside your brain and you realize what he’s suggesting. You eagerly get yourself into position, propping yourself up on your hands over his crotch while you scoot the rest of your body down until you feel his breath between your legs.

“Good girl,” he praises in a quiet voice, deepening with desire.

“This experiment is gonna be over pretty quick if you keep calling me that,” you crack, reaching for his cock. He laughs, giving a playful slap to your ass. You laugh with him, “Or if you keep doing that.”

He chuckles, using his hands to encourage your body down within range of his face. He tentatively rubs his scruff around your inner thighs while you test your position by pressing chaste kisses to his balls. He checks in, “Comfortable, baby?”

“Except for when I think about the extreme close-up view you're getting of my asshole right now," you joke.

"Another topic we’ll revisit at a later date," he cackles, massaging your cheeks.

“Oh my god,” you laugh at his comment. Before you’re done giggling, he flattens his tongue and gives a long lick up your pussy. You groan out a surprised but relieved, “Oh my god.”

He continues, humming happily as he licks, nips and sucks at you, exploring how to best please you in this angle and position. You admit you were skeptical about this at first but as you subtly roll your hips over his face while you sink your mouth down on his cock, you think to yourself that your boyfriend might be a genius.

You easily find a rhythm with each other, communicating through murmurs and muffled sighs and you quickly get lost in pleasuring each other. Ash’s tongue diligently licks away at you while yours runs along the underside of his cock as you bob up and down. He’s the first to pull away, moaning your name loudly when you pull up and start lapping sloppily around his tip.

“Mmm, baby… that’s… yeah,” he rambles, letting out a long breath as your hand starts lightly working over his balls. 

Ashton regains his composure and continues his efforts, teasing your entrance before moving towards your clit with a slow drag of his tongue. He flicks over it a few times before fitting it between his lips and sucking gently. He increases the pressure, buzzing appreciatively and you’re not sure if he’s responding to your taste or the work you’re doing on him but the shiver it sends down your spine has you whining around him.

“Ash…” You sound desperate and slightly unlike yourself but the way he’s eating you feels too good for you to worry with self-consciousness. “God, keep… that… that, like that.”

He follows your jumbled instructions, fingers digging into the skin of your thighs as he struggles to hold your bucking hips still above him. You breathe deep to steady yourself before you take his cock into your mouth again, moving down his length in time with the strokes of his tongue on your clit. 

Your head spins as the entire situation threatens to overwhelm your senses: the cool morning air raising goosebumps on your exposed body while the bright sun and constant touch of Ashton’s hands work in tandem to warm your skin. The taste of the precum steadily leaking onto your tongue, the muted groans of praise coming from the man underneath you. The feeling of your body rocking back and forth, grinding against his face while sliding your mouth on his length, your mind on fire from both receiving and giving pleasure.

You pull off to lick up and down the sides of his cock, needing a moment to catch your breath but also needing to keep tasting him, keep pleasing him, keep hearing him fall apart for you. Ash’s tongue picks up speed, fluttering over your clit so rapidly you can’t do anything but bury your face in his thigh and moan.

“I know, I know, love… taste so sweet, baby, I feel like I can’t get enough,” he praises, pecking at your pussy softly. He rubs the small of your back soothingly, watching you try your hardest to keep stroking him despite being so close to the edge yourself. “Your hands always feel so nice on me, baby… make me feel so fucking good.”

You visibly perk back up from his compliments. “Always want you to feel so good, Ash… you deserve it,” you huff against his leg, hand determined to keep working him. “Always make me feel incredible… you should feel that way too… love being the one who gets to do it.”

He kisses your legs sweetly, loving your half-stoned, half-love-drunk ramblings. “No one else could ever make me feel like you do,” he declares. He gives your ass a squeeze before asking, “Think you’re ready to cum with me, baby?”

You let out a weak but agreeable mewl and right yourself, raising your head over him again. Your brain tries to formulate a sexy reply or a flirty joke but all you can think about is how badly you want to feel his tongue on you again, how you can’t wait to taste his cum splashing into your mouth. These thoughts swirl around your head as you lean in to swirl your tongue around the head of Ash’s cock. The whine it earns you from him is so viscerally satisfying to you, you briefly wonder if you might beat him to the finish line right now this second.

Your hands and mouth work over Ash while he resumes worshiping you with his tongue; he tightly grips your ass, pressing you further down onto his face, completely burying himself in your pussy. The wide surface of his tongue lavishes over every sensitive inch of you and as his lips close over your clit, you feel that familiar fire starting to build in your belly. You hollow your cheeks, doubling your efforts on him, determined to push him over the edge first. In an inspired moment, you decide to carefully run your nails over his inner thighs, knowing he might appreciate the surprisingly sharp feeling. You hear his muffled reaction from behind you and when you press down just a little bit harder, you feel his cock jump on your tongue. 

The both of you expertly work each other’s bodies, tirelessly sending the other barreling towards their release until finally it’s as if time slows down, allowing you to feel everything happening at once. Your hips jerk over his face and you feel the pleasure start rippling through your core. Ashton groans against you as his cock begins pulsing, flooding your mouth with his cum, the vibrations of his outburst amplifying the sensations of your own climax. Your brain and body feel overloaded with stimulation as you try to concentrate on swallowing all that he’s giving you while still losing yourself in the endless waves of your orgasm.

The intertwined sounds of your combined satisfaction eventually fade into blended gasps and pants and you feel Ash tenderly stroking the backs of your thighs as your upper body suddenly goes slack, your head falling onto the couch, exhausted. He sweetly pecks over your skin for a beat, letting you have a moment before gently tapping your leg, saying, “Come kiss me.”

You smile into the couch cushion at the simplicity of his request; the joy that washes over you in that moment gives you the strength you need to pick your body back up and turn yourself around to lay on his chest.

“There’s my girl,” he coos, gathering the fallen sides of the robe he’s wearing and wrapping them around you, cocooning you to him. You press your lips to his and neither of you comment on how the taste of one another lingers on each other’s tongues but the revelation is so simultaneously filthy and intimate, you feel absolutely intoxicated by the time the kiss is finished.

You look at him, dazed smile on your face. “That was…”

You can’t find the words to describe it but he agrees nonetheless. “Definitely.”

“I forgive you for leaving me alone in a cold bed,” you tease.

He cackles loudly. “Oh? Never would’ve guessed.”

That blend of goofy tenderness becomes the brand of the day. You finally make it off the couch and inside to share a more substantial meal and a hot shower. After checking the forecast, Ashton excitedly shares that the inclement weather isn’t scheduled to hit until late night, so you decide to make a quick trip down to the store for a few things you’d wished you’d bought yesterday.

You’re steering the cart towards the parking lot when, just like your previous trip, Ash tosses you the key, saying he has to go back for something.

“We don’t have room for another Christmas tree, Ash,” you tease.

He mockingly repeats your joke before kissing your cheek and taking off in the opposite direction. There’s only a few bags to load into the trunk this time so you’re all packed up before he makes it back. You lock up and turn to push the basket towards the return aisle at the end of the row when you see Ashton emerge from the store holding a bouquet of roses. You feel your face warm instantly and you stop, holding onto the cart tightly to collect yourself. You realize you’re swooning as you watch him, looking sleek in his long trench coat and boots, bright smile adorning his face as he joyfully brings you fresh flowers for seemingly no reason, and it hits you that you've lost track of how many times he’s made you literally weak in the knees.

You finish putting the cart away and you start towards him, figuring you’ll meet him halfway. He spots you when he makes it onto your row and smoothly moves his hands behind his back to obscure the gift but as you get closer, he reads your expression and accepts defeat.

He laughs and calls out, “You saw already, didn’t you?” 

You grin, nodding sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to but you caught my attention… so unlike me, I know,” you giggle, skipping your steps a little to get to him faster.

As soon as he’s within reach, you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him down to your lips, unwilling to wait another second to show him your appreciation. He happily reciprocates your affection and holds you tightly to him with one arm as he pulls away to give you the flowers.

“I don’t know… I saw these on our way out and thought you should have them,” he shrugs, almost blushing and it’s so adorable you’re having a hard time not immediately interrupting him for another kiss. “Think they’d look nice on the nightstand on your side of the bed.”

“They’re perfect,” you gush, gleefully inhaling their sweet scent. “And you’re not so bad either.”

The rest of the afternoon is lazy and comfortable. The two of you head back out to the deck and hang out in blissful silence: Ash occasionally strumming his guitar but mainly writing in his journal, you busy with the holiday needlepoint kit you bought at the market because it seemed like a cabin-y activity to try and you figured you could send the finished product home to your parents. 

When it gets a bit too cold to stay outside, you help Ash move and cover the patio furniture for the storm and start discussing dinner. He picks out a record to play and gets the fireplace going while you throw some soup on the stove because it’s easy and sounds cozy on such a chilly night. You eat and talk and when you’re done eating, you sit at the table and talk some more. Since you cooked, he suggests you go relax by the fire and he’ll tackle the clean up; you put on another album, grab your needlepoint and a blanket and stretch out on the couch.

He comes into the living room a while later, carefully carrying two mugs of hot cocoa and the bag of mini marshmallows you bought earlier. “Didn’t know how many you’d want,” he explains, dropping the bag in your lap as he sets the mugs on the coffee table in front of you. You murmur your thanks as you curl your legs under you so he can sit down. After a short but heated debate over the proper amount of marshmallows that belong in a serving of hot chocolate, you sit quietly and enjoy the fire together.

Ashton gets up to throw another log in the fireplace. He looks back at you, snug on the couch with your project and smiles, asking thoughtfully, "Do you think you could ever live like this?”

“Is this a romantic ‘what if’ scenario about the two of us specifically or like a value based, practical conversation?”

He laughs, lifting your legs and setting them in his lap as he sits back down. “Practical.”

You take a sip, thinking. “I don’t know… I love how quiet it is up here, love how remote it is, how removed it feels from everything. Obviously it's gorgeous. But I definitely feel like there are things about ‘city life’ that I'm not sure I'd be able to give up.”

“OK, see, that’s the thing - I feel like I should be embarrassed saying this but… I like the city?" He says, with equal parts passion and incredulity. "I like that anything you want is so readily accessible at any time, I like meeting dozens of new people everyday, I like getting bored at 10pm on a Saturday night and knowing I’ll always be able to find somewhere to go and it’s anybody’s guess if it’s going to be a worthwhile endeavor but goddamn, good or bad, it’s gonna be memorable… No two nights are ever the same in LA and I find that beautiful.”

You rub over his arm, fondly, enjoying his passion. “I feel the same way, if I’m really honest with myself. It’s like the simplicity here is quaint to us now because we're not used to it and we know we’re only going to be here so long. But once the novelty wore off, that monotony would be a tough adjustment for some people."

He plays with the hem of your sweats. “But I think I would like to get to the point where I don't feel like I need those other things. Where I could sustain a life out here, or somewhere like this. Something pure, something free… more natural, I guess.”

“I think you could, you’re very resourceful and adaptable and very at peace with yourself," you muse, nudging him. "I think you’d be able to recreate those 'city' experiences or find something that gives you those same feelings out here on your own.”

“Doesn’t necessarily have to be on my own,” he points out, nudging you back.

You tease, “You really think being in my presence is on the same level of thrills as living in the city?”

“I mean, you’re pretty cool, baby, but I was actually talking about moving Calum out here with me,” he zings, howling as you jab your foot into his side.

You get up to take your mugs to the kitchen and when you come back, he’s still pensively looking at the fire. You sit beside him, spreading your blanket out over the both of you and he resumes the conversation, chuckling, “I was actually meant to spend most of the summer out here. Wanted to give myself kind of a test run, see how long I could make it. Until I met someone who made me rethink the pros of city life." He winks at you, reaching for your hand.

You laugh, squeezing his fingers. “That's sweet, Ash, but let’s not gloss over the fact you were also recording an album with your band that required you to be in the city too.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “Nah, my summer project was gonna be converting the attic into a studio so we could at least lay down demos here,” he shares. “That’s why Cal and I spent that week up here right before we met, we were taking pictures and planning.”

You sit all the way up, staring at him in disbelief. “So you’re saying you fully intended to spend the entire summer in the mountains, renovating your cabin so you could live and work out here and just because you happened to meet some random girl at a party, you scrapped the whole thing and stayed in the city just to hang out?”

He giggles, kissing your temple. “I wouldn’t put it like that - things just kept getting put off because I kept finding other ways to spend my time that interested me more.” Your shocked expression doesn’t waver and the grin he's wearing only seems to grow wider, dimples sinking even deeper into his cheeks.

You shake your head. “Can’t decide if that means you were crazy about me or just plain crazy.”

He shrugs, pulling you closer. “Why not both?”

In the morning you roll over and are pleased to discover your boyfriend still sleeping next to you. While the thought of snuggling into him and drifting back off to sleep is immensely appealing, you decide you have a better idea. You ease out of bed and down to the kitchen where you start preparing eggs, bacon and coffee for the both of you. You hum quietly to yourself as you cook, happy to be able to do something for Ashton since so much of this trip has been about him treating you.

The meal is cooling on the counter and you’re standing at the sink rinsing the last frying pan when you feel the fuzzy fabric of Ash’s robe brush your skin and his arms slink around you. A shiver runs down your body as his scruff tickles your skin as he buries his face in your neck and grumbles, “You’re right, it gets fuckin’ cold in that bed.”

“Sorry, babe,” you sing song, reaching behind you to scratch at his beard, which is filling in nicely. “Wanted breakfast to be a surprise.”

His deep, scratchy morning voice teases, “What if I wanted to eat somethin’ a little sweeter for breakfast?” and he nibbles along your neck while his hands run down your body before tugging at the drawstring on your sweatpants.

A naughty grin spreads across your face and you close your eyes for a beat to enjoy the work Ash’s tongue is doing behind your earlobe. You don’t know if you’ll ever get over the fact that he’s as hungry for you as you are for him. “Play your cards right and you might be able to have dessert for lunch.” You dry your hands with a dish towel and spin around in his hold to face him.

You fling your arms around his neck and he lets out something between a sleepy sigh and a growl when you move in for a kiss. “Love when we compromise,” he jokes against your lips. You communicate silently with your tongues for a moment before he pulls back to coo, “Merry Christmas Eve, baby.”

Breakfast is a bit rushed because Ashton wants to hurry outside to take pictures with you in the fresh snow before the weather gets too crazy. But he’s sure to give your thoughtful gesture its due, exaggeratedly moaning at every bite and offering you multiple hyperbolic compliments during the meal. You stand up to clear the table but he objects, dragging you to the bedroom to get dressed, promising he’ll clean it all himself once you come back inside from seeing the snow. 

You know it’s pointless to push back when he’s this determined about something plus it is pretty cute how excited he is, so you humor him, quickly pulling on some leggings. By the time you’re slipping one of his hoodies over your head, he’s already headed out the sliding door to find the best place to set his phone up on the deck railing.

“You want me to grab your coat for you?” You poke your head out the door and ask, puzzled by his choice to go out in just his henley and jeans. 

Ash shakes his head. “Nah, we won’t be out here long,” he insists, blissfully unconcerned by the temperature despite his breath instantly forming a frosty cloud in front of him as he speaks.

You skeptically watch him shuffle around the deck for a few more seconds before you pull the door shut behind you. “Babe, you don’t even have your boots tied! We’re not gonna get snowed out in the 30 seconds that’ll take, come on,” you laugh, tugging on his hand.

He lifts your hand to his mouth, pecking it softly, giggling as you yank it away when his cold nose brushes your skin. “I will, baby, I will,” he promises while making a beeline for the stairs leading off the side of the deck. “I just need to check…” 

You can only guess what the last part of that sentence is because suddenly he’s disappeared from view with a surprised yelp and you hurry over to the edge of the deck, peering over just in time to see him roll onto his back, laughing hysterically. Judging by the amount of snow shaking out of his beard as he laughs, you make the assumption that he did a full face plant. Stifling your own laughter, you grab his phone off the rail and snap a handful of photos of the spectacle, which only makes him laugh even harder.

“Slippery?” You call down to him with a grin.

Ashton shrugs, laughter still rattling through him. “Slippery, missed a step, should’ve put my shoes on right.”

“Ah, the trifecta,” you tease, making your way down to him.

“Just trying to make this trip as memorable as possible for you,” he jokes. You start making your way down to him and you can’t help but feel soft about the quiet “Careful, baby” he warns you with as he watches you descend the stairs.

You stand over him and he cackles as you click a few more choice pictures. “Come on, baby, help me up,” he requests, casting a hilariously dramatic pout on his face to sell his plight.

“Just one more thing,” you reply before plopping yourself into the snow next to him.

He gasps your name as you settle in next to him, stretching your arms out to take selfies of the two of you in the snow. “Baby, no,” he protests, fussing over the way your sweatshirt has ridden up and exposed your skin to the cold. “We don’t need to both be shaking and wet.”

“Thought you preferred me that way,” you tease, pecking his cheek for one last picture. “Besides, I’m a loyal gal. Stand by your man and all that.”

“Or lay down in the snow by your man?” 

“Exactly,” you laugh with him, happily letting him lead you into a sweet kiss.

Although you ostensibly came down to aid his fall, Ash easily gets back on his feet and extends a hand to you, pulling you up alongside him. Even though he’s notably more snow covered than you are, he still instinctively brings you in, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, trying in vain to warm you up. 

“You’re basically a popsicle trying to warm up an ice cube, babe,” you laugh, teeth slightly chattering towards the end of your sentence.

He snorts, conceding defeat, and takes your hand, leading you past the deck - presumably to avoid the slippery stairs that led to this predicament - and around the house to the front door. 

“Off,” he commands, tugging at your wet clothes as soon as you get inside. He quickly yanks his henley up over his shoulders, steps out of his pants and heads further into the house, moving too fast for you to get a flirty joke out about his advice. You strip down to your underwear and follow him into the living room, where he’s adjusting the fireplace, completely naked.

“I’m gonna selfishly ask you to be careful over there,” you giggle, annoyed that your voice sounds so shaky because of how cold you are.

Your obvious shivering catches his attention and he shifts his gaze over to you. He frowns, gesturing at your bra and panties. “Aww, baby… get those off too and come stand by the fire.” He grabs the flannel blanket off the couch and drapes it over your back, using it to pull your now naked body against his. “I’ll grab us some sweats and something hot to drink in a few, just wanna get us both situated.”

Ashton holds you tight against him, rubbing over your arms just like he did outside, his efforts much more effective with the aid of the roaring fire. Finally warm enough to drop your arms from around yourself, you slide them around his waist, instantly noting how cold and damp his back still is.

“Ash…” You pout, struggling with the blanket around you, fruitlessly trying to pull it to reach more of his body. You offer, “Let’s get another blanket, babe, get you covered too.”

“I’m fine, baby, want you warm first,” he insists, emphasizing his point by rubbing your arms faster.

“Ash, you’re not fine, you’re standing here with your entire ass out.”

“Thought you preferred me that way.”

You can’t help but crack up at both his joke and his stubbornness. You shake your head and sigh, “I love you.”

The words hang in the air and though you said them, you seem to hear them at the same time he does and the two of you freeze and look at each other, wide eyed. You’ve had that thought many times and even considered saying it out loud once or twice but you were never sure if the time was right. You can’t fathom why your brain decided that now, arguing over a blanket while you’re naked and freezing, was the right time for you to blurt it out, but what’s done is done.

It’s only been a moment but the silence feels endless and you’re dying to fill it. You laugh nervously and stammer, mind racing faster than your mouth can speak. “Well. Um. I… uh… I mean…” 

Ashton appears to be speechless - an event you’ve only seen happen one or two times since you’ve known him - but he sees the panic on your face and he subtly shakes his head, snapping himself back to reality. He squeezes your hands and brings them to his lips to kiss them sweetly. “Baby… I love you… have for a while,” he says with a soft, reassuring voice and smile to match. 

A wave of relief rushes over you, though you’re not quite sure why. You were sure Ash loved you - you feel it every day in the way he smiles at you, the way he cares for you, the way he kisses you - and you were confident your confession wasn’t a surprise to him either. But saying those words and hearing them repeated back still feels monumental. You find yourself overwhelmed and you toss your arms around his neck, pulling him into a passionate kiss. He immediately reciprocates, squeezing you tight to him, humming approvingly. 

With your arms around each other, the blanket covering you inevitably falls to the ground but neither of you notice, warmed by the other’s embrace. It’s not until he pulls back to cradle your face that he deduces your trembling is likely due to the temperature instead of emotion.

He sympathetically sighs your name, pecking your lips once more before pulling back to grab more pillows and blankets from the couch, making a quick makeshift bed by the fire. “C’mere, baby,” he coos.

You join him on the ground, crawling under the blanket he’s holding open for you and settling onto your side, snuggling against his chest. He wraps the flannel material and then his arms around you, pressing silly wet smooches around your face before landing one on your lips, which you waste no time in deepening. You kiss lazily for a few moments, still processing everything that just happened but with each kiss, confirming the sentiments that you just expressed to each other.

Ash is the first to finally break away, breathing deep, stroking your hair back as he smiles at you. You smile back, scratching at his beard. “I love you,” you repeat, confidently this time. You laugh, “I’ve stopped myself from saying it so many times, I guess I just couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

He grins, sweetly replying, “I love you too… can’t say this is quite how I imagined telling you but…”

You interject with a giggle, “Oh? And how often would you imagine professing your love for me?”

“Hmm… just about every fucking day the past few months,” he shrugs, with a good natured smile, knowing you’re teasing him but insistent on being sincere. “Probably since you came to that first show and I saw how naturally, how easily you fit in with all the other parts of my life that I love.”

You pout, kissing him because you don’t know how else to respond. You murmur against his lips, “Well. Naked by the fire is pretty romantic. Weird context, but still.”

“Anywhere with you is a dream come true, baby.”

You sigh and bury your face in his chest, suddenly needing to feel engulfed by him. He wraps himself around you, warming you, loving you. He tugs your hair after a moment, raising your head to look at him. He doesn’t say the phrase again but you can see it as clear as the hazel in his eyes. He loves you. You place your hands on either side of his face and deliver a slow but quietly heated kiss to his lips.

Ashton’s touch begins to wander, appreciating the convenience of your already naked body. His hands untangle from your hair and move tantalizingly slow down your back to grip your ass before caressing over your sides to palm your breasts. He pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers, leaving you moaning into his mouth; you return the favor, rubbing over his chest and he moans similarly. You feel his cock swelling against your stomach and you instantly ache for it.

“Ash,” you breathe, stroking him gently. 

He nips at your jaw, groaning. “I know, baby,” he soothes, pulling your leg over his hip. “Need you too.” He runs his hand through your wetness and coats his cock with it, his fingers grazing yours, the both of you working to ready him for you. He grips your waist as you bring his tip to your entrance and gently push him inside. 

“Ashton,” you sigh in relief, grabbing onto his shoulder as you continue to take him. He slowly starts rocking against you and you let out a series of low moans in sync with his movements. “Feels so good, babe… so good. I love it.”

“Love you,” he insists, grabbing your ass, trying to get you closer. “Nothing better than being in you, baby. ‘S where I belong.”

Mind and body both overwhelmed, a needy whimper pours from your throat. “Ash… need you like this all the time,” you pant, clinging to him while he picks up the pace. “Never felt like this with anyone. Not just this, I mean… I don’t think I’ve ever felt this much for someone.”

There’s so much more you could say but every thought in your mind has been replaced by a seemingly endless chant of Ashton, Ashton, Ashton. How well he’s filling you, how adoringly he’s looking at you, how desperately he’s rasping your name. His lips on your neck, his thumb on your clit, his fingers gripping your thigh as he raises your leg higher, trying to thrust into you deeper. It’s all too much and your nails drag down his back as your orgasm starts to overtake you.

“Yes, baby, yes,” he encourages, keeping his rhythm steady. “Let me feel it, love. That’s it.” You cry out and he groans alongside you as you squeeze around him. He holds you tight, fucking you through your climax and shortly after, you feel his back muscles tensing underneath your grip; before you have a chance to react, he’s whining your name and his cock is pulsing inside you. He buries his face in your neck as he cums and you soothingly stroke his hair as he relaxes against you. You lay in silence, holding each other in the afterglow, letting your pounding hearts speak to each other, saying all the words you can’t seem to find.

After a hot shower, a cuddly nap and a dinner that the two of you prepare together, you spend the evening drinking cocoa on the couch, the living room illuminated only by the fire and the Christmas tree lights. You trade stories of past holiday memories and share a few dreams for future ones, ones Ashton’s now more confident than ever that you'll be spending together.

The howling wind of the snowstorm wakes you early the next morning; another gust hits, rattling the bedroom’s sliding glass door. Your boyfriend stirs, mumbling something incoherent but clearly concerned. 

“Think that’s the sound of a White Christmas, babe,” you chuckle sleepily, reaching over to rub at his bearded cheek.

“Ooh, that’ll be nice,” he mutters. He moves your hand to his lips, smooching it before turning you on your side so he can spoon you. 

His warmth - physical and emotional - surrounds you as his arms envelop you and he mumbles sweet nothings against your hair. He shifts closer and the happy hum you’re emitting becomes a suggestive whine as you feel his morning wood nudging your ass. “This a stocking stuffer for me?” You joke, wiggling against him.

“Never too early for a little Christmas cheer,” he giggles, pressing into you more. His voice is heavy with sleep, his joyful laugh octaves lower than it usually is and it makes you feel like you’re on fire.

“Little is definitely not the word I’d use, babe,” you laugh, yawning through it as you turn over. You look at him, eyes tired but hungry. “You wanna?” You grip him through his flannel pajama pants, groaning quietly when you feel how rock hard he is. You love having him in the morning, it quite literally hits different.

“Baby,” he rasps, grabbing your wrist before you add any more pressure. “Always yes but also no, it’s so fuckin’ early… let’s sleep a little more. Soak in the tub together later.” 

He leans in and kisses you with a heat that feels contrary to the plan he just laid out. You bite his lip as he pulls away. “Want you now, though,” you murmur, palming him again, just because you love the feeling of him hard, even if it wasn’t your doing. 

Ash smiles knowingly. “My girl feeling needy this morning?” You nod with a playful pout that he plants a kiss directly onto. He turns you back onto your side and aligns his erection with your backside again. “Could just slip in while we lay here…”

“Yes,” you cut him off, not needing to hear any more details. He chuckles at your eagerness as he reaches for the bag on the nightstand and you hurriedly pull down your pajamas and underwear. The slick sounds of him spreading lube on his cock riles you up to the point that you look over your shoulder and half-jokingly state, “Babe, if I have to keep listening to that, we’re not gonna need lube anymore.”

He snorts, giving your ass swat before settling in behind you. “Need it that bad, huh?” You nod, proudly owning your desire. His tip nudges between your legs and you bite your lip in anticipation. His fingers dig into your hips as he slides in and the two of you moan together as he moves deeper and deeper until he’s fully inside you. You both adjust and get comfortable and once you stop squirming, he checks in, “How’s that feel, love?”

“Full,” you answer dreamily. He nuzzles the back of your neck, sliding his hands underneath your sweatshirt, one carressing your tummy, the other grabbing your breast. You let your head fall back against him and you close your eyes, focusing on the satisfying but grounding feeling of his cock inside you: thick, rigid, undeniable but undemanding. His warm hands on your body, his lips grazing your skin, how his breath syncs with yours as you relax in the stillness of each other. You’re almost caught up by how much emotion you suddenly feel so you just offer him a quiet, “Love you.”

“Love you, baby,” he answers, soft and slow, smiling as he feels you relax in his arms as you drift back to sleep.

You wake up alone a few hours later but before the disappointment has a chance to sink in, Ash is walking through the door with a steaming hot mug of coffee for you.

“Merry Christmas, love!” He greets you cheerily. He sets the cup on the nightstand next to your flowers and leans down to kiss you. “Didn’t want to wake you until I had the fire going out there, something warm for you to drink.”

“Sweet of you,” you pout, pulling him down for another kiss before you take a sip. “What should we make for breakfast?”

“Started some French toast already, thought I’d wait until you were up and around before I put the bacon on so we could eat it crispy,” he reports, beaming at you. You smile back, hearts surely shooting out of your eyes, he’s so cute when he’s excited.

The excitement continues when you join him in the kitchen a few minutes later, after you’re clothed and caffeinated. The Christmas music pouring from the stereo is easily drowned out by the gleeful sing-song of your name he lets out when he sees you approaching. You head for the cabinet, figuring you’ll set the table but Ashton steps away from the stove as soon as you’re within reach, pulling you into a bear hug and smothering your face with kisses.

“You’re touchy today,” you comment, ruffling his hair as he moves back to attend to the food.

“Says the woman who refused to go back to sleep without the aid of my dick,” he teases, reaching back over to give your ass a light smack.

You watch him carefully plate the food and carry it over to the table, where he’s already set your gifts for each other by your placemats. He comes back to the stove and you press your face into his back, placing a kiss between his shoulders. “This all smells delicious, babe. Everything you’ve done for me this week has been so sweet and special and I wanna make sure you know I appreciate it.”

He turns around and answers simply with a smile. “It’s a special time and I’m glad I get to spend it with you.”

You’re halfway through breakfast when you can tell he starts getting antsy about the gift exchange; you’re not sure if it’s nerves or impatience but to be honest, you’re surprised he held out even this long. 

“Maybe three cups of coffee before noon wasn’t the best idea for today,” you crack, stilling his bouncing knee. 

“Slow day for me,” he jokes, flashing you a sweet but apologetic smile.

You decide to cut him a break and you scarf down your last few bites so you can take the plates to the sink and quickly wipe the table down, ensuring sure your gifts are safe from any syrupy stickiness.

“Do you want to go first?” You offer, handing him the big box on the table addressed to him.

His eyes light up but he tries to play it cool, responding, “Whatever you’d like, baby.”

You sit back and giggle as he oohs and aahs over the wrapping before he tears into the package. He uncovers a plain brown shipping box and makes a big show of weighing it in his hands, shaking it around to see if he can detect what’s inside. He finally opens it, digging through the tissue paper to pull out a vinyl record with a photo of Los Angeles on the cover. He doesn’t recognize the picture so he turns the album over to investigate the track listing and your heart melts at the way his face softens when he sees the back cover art is a photo collage of your past six months together. Pictures he’s taken of you, you’ve taken of him, pictures of you two together, pictures of places you’ve been. His eyes drift to the track listing and he quickly recognizes the selections are of the same theme, highlighting moments of your time together.

“These songs!” He says in awe, reading it over. “How did you even pick these?”

“It was hard to whittle it down so that it all fit on one record. But there were certain songs I knew had to be on our soundtrack,” you answer with a grin. You get out of your seat and kneel next to his, pointing to some tracks. “These are ones I remember watching you rehearse endlessly in your basement over the summer. And these are from that playlist you were obsessed with the first few times we went out.”

“Oh yeah,” he laughs, remembering. He points to another song. “We slow danced to this while I was waiting to get called to the press line at Global Citizen.”

“Mmm hmm,” you confirm, touched he remembers. You run your finger down three titles. “These are from the records you found at that thrift shop we went to and you insisted I come back to your place to listen and that night was --”

“The first time we had sex,” he finishes the memory, smiling. “This first track… did we talk about that song the night we met?”

You nod happily. “Some other song was playing at the party and we couldn’t decide what it reminded us of. You figured it out and played it for me on your phone.”

“Wow,” Ashton sighs, staring at the song titles, snapshot memories of your relationship flashing in his mind. “This is incredible, baby. It’s so thoughtful… I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t need to say anything, then,” you say softly, sitting up to draw him into a tender kiss. “Music just sounds different… better ever since I met you.”

“Baby,” he breathes, quickly kissing you again. He clears his throat and you detect a slight break in his voice as he offers a soft “Thank you.”

You squeeze his leg and move back to your seat, overjoyed by his reaction. You’re curious to know what’s inside the pretty package with your name on it but you want to give him as much time as he needs to process all that he’s feeling right now, so you sip your coffee and watch as he continues to stare at the custom record.

He finally tears his eyes away from it, announcing, “We're gonna listen to this by the fire.” He scoots your gift closer to you, cooing, “Your turn, my love.”

The gift is so beautifully wrapped, you almost feel bad ripping it open but with Ash’s eager eyes encouraging you, you dive in. You toss the gift wrap aside and lift the lid on the box, finding two thick leather bound journals; as you begin to thumb through the first one, you see Ashton’s handwriting filling about a quarter of the pages and it dawns on you that this is what you’ve seen him writing in all week.

He sees your wheels turning and he begins to explain. “So there’s two parts to this: I wanted to tell you how I felt about some of my favorite memories with you so far. That’s what those pages are.” He leans in and flips to a few pages that are blank, save for some dates scrawled in the corner. “I thought maybe you could write down your thoughts and memories of those same days here. And then if you wanted to, you could share your thoughts about any other days you wanted to remember and give it back to me and I’d write about the days you picked and we could just go back and forth like that.”

“Ash, that’s so sweet,” you start, heart immediately warmed.

“And then,” he continues, picking up the second book. “This one is blank. I have one just like it. I was thinking when I leave for tour, we could write in them a little bit every day and then swap when we get to see each other, so we can kind of catch up.”

“Babe.”

He smiles wistfully. “I know we’ve still got a while. And I know we’ll talk on the phone and I know you’ll visit but… I’m gonna miss being a part of your everyday and you being a part of mine. And maybe this can give us a little of that back. And it’ll be nice to see how different our lives are from day to day but the emotions of missing each other and looking forward to seeing each other, that’s gonna be the same.”

“I think it’s a great idea and I love it and I love you,” you enthuse, setting the box on the table so you can get up and climb into his lap. You wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I can’t wait to read what you’ve already written.”

He giggles, “Wrapped it last night after you fell asleep but after this morning, I had to crack it back open and add a little more.”

You exaggeratedly drop your jaw in faux shock. “There’s saucy content in my romantic journal?”

He snorts, pinching your ass. “Baby, think about our relationship and tell me how many G-rated memories you think we’ve had.”

“Guess you’re right,” you laugh, stroking your chin, pretending to think. “God, why are you such a slut for me?” He jabs your side as you dramatically try to escape his hold, yelping until he silences your protests with a soft kiss.

Hours later, after the two of you have finally taken successful pictures in the snow, cooked another simple but delicious dinner together and taken that bath he promised you hours ago, you find yourself on the couch once again with a mug of cocoa, watching Ash prod at the fire. He smiles at you before he moves over to the stereo to flip over the record you made him, pulling his cardigan tight around his broad chest.

“It got chilly tonight,” he comments as he shuffles into the kitchen to grab his mug out of the microwave.

You hold your blanket open for him in response and he settles in next to you, tucking the both of you in. You rest your head on his shoulder, watching the fire, listening to the music you fell in love to; though the temperature outside is freezing, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so warm.

The record spins the next song and your mind travels back to Ashton’s car the night of your first kiss. A thought enters your mind and you can’t help but share. 

“Do you ever think about what you’d be doing right now if we hadn’t gotten together?”

He strokes your hair tenderly as he considers his response. “I try to go out of my way not to think of scenarios where I’m not with you,” he admits.

“I mean, it’s not my favorite topic either but it crosses my mind sometimes,” you shrug. “I probably would’ve moved back home over the summer. Lockdown was just so hard… I got so lonely and discouraged… felt like I was in freefall. I didn’t really have anything to keep me here, to ground me until I met you.”

He kisses your neck with a tenderness that suggests he believes he can retroactively heal the heartache you felt before he knew you. “I don’t really know where I’d be right now… I’d be trying my best. Like I was before I met you. And my life would have joy, I’d make sure of that. But the kind of peace I feel knowing you, the happiness that comes from my soul being recognized by yours every day that we’re together… I can’t imagine being fulfilled like that without you with me.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks and you reach for his hand, squeezing it tight as if it’s the only anchor you have to keep you from drowning under the weight of his sentiment. “I wish I could think of a better word to describe it… ‘magical’ seems so trivial. But that’s what it feels like,” you muse. “How many things had to go right and wrong, how many choices we had to make and not make, all for our lives to line up perfectly so that we would meet and end up here? How can that not be magic?”

“I was meant to be on tour this summer,” he says quietly.

“What if I’d moved to LA a year earlier? A year later? Made different friends, friends that didn’t know you?”

“If our album had come out in 2019, like we wanted it to, we probably would’ve been on break when lockdown hit… I might’ve been stuck in Sydney this whole time.”

“Even something as simple as: what if one of us had skipped going to that party? I was still getting used to being social again, I almost didn’t go, I was so nervous.”

“Cal and I had talked about going to the desert that weekend,” he remembers. “At the very last minute, he decided he’d rather wait a week. Weather or something. I was only at that party because I went down my contact list texting around to see who wanted to hang out… I was having a rough time and I didn’t want to be alone, I needed to be out of the house.”

You lift your head to look at him. “You never told me that.” 

“Didn’t seem important until now. What if someone else had replied first? What if I’d gotten caught in traffic and got there later? You were on your way out when we introduced ourselves.”

You grin at the memory of that night. “What if you hadn’t been wearing an insane looking pair of pants that made me take notice and stop to ask around about you?”

“What if you hadn’t been the most beautiful human I’d ever seen and I hadn’t decided I needed to know you?”

“Ashton.”

“Listen, I’m just recalling that night from my personal perspective here,” he teases, giving you a peck on the cheek.

You snort, getting back to your point. “Any of those things… if anything had been different, everything could’ve been different.”

“Glad it’s not.”

“Me too.”

Ashton sighs, slinging his arm around you, pulling you into his chest. “Don’t know if we thank the universe or the gods or our own intuition but it seems to me that things happened the way they did because we were meant to have this time together.”

“I agree.”

“All the shit that we had to go through… I’d say it was worth it to get here.”

“I agree.”

“I love you.”

“I agree.”

“Hey!” He protests.

You giggle, snuggling into him closer. “I love you too.”

--------------------------------------

Not entirely sure what my plans are re: continuing to use a taglist (would love to know your thoughts on that as well tbh) so keep your eyes open for future updates on that!

@hoodharlow @mashtonasfuck @pxrxmoore @bxcketbarnes @talkfastromance4 @camelliastreet @itjustkindahappenedreally @saywhatnow07 @mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower @findingliam-o @fedorable-killjoys @trix-arent-for-kids @olivia-foster-irwin @calmsweetcreature @onthecliffside-mgc @feliznavidaddycal @himbohood @maggiesupertramp @karajaynetoday @ashtonangst @sunshineeashton @aladyofalbion @youngblood199456 @calumrose @irwindoll @in-superbloom @2fangirl4u @highstwildflower @bport76 @chamaleonsoul

[myonepiece]

Hey can i have a headcanon with sanji, law, zoro and ace x reader crying after first time sex because it's hurt too much?? Thx I love your writings <3

s/o cries during s*x because it hurts

w/ sanji, law, zoro, and ace (i'll go over the limit for ace 😔)

TW

warnings: i don't know what to call it actually but just painful sex and not in the good way, nsfw

i don't know you could cry out of something other than pleasure from this man,,

he pays very close attention to your reactions because he wants to know what makes you feel good as well as what makes you feel bad

so he notices right away when your tears aren't from pleasure but from pain, and he immediately frezes, he doesn't pull out right away though because he's worried that would hurt if he did it too abruptly

"darling? what's wrong? where does it hurt?"

he'll ask what happened and where you're hurting, before telling you he's going to pull out (like 'i'm going to pull out now, okay?")

once he's out he sits up and pulls you up a bit to lean against his chest, he whispers apologies over and over again while he kisses your cheeks and carefully wipes away your tears

poor man will probably tear up himself

needless to say he falls asleep far too late and pampers you more than usual for the next week, and he's not as hyper with his sexual comments or anything around that topic, it's really unusual

similar to sanji, law pays very close attention to your reactions and body language, though it tends to be more for making sure he's not hurting you

he can get quite rough sometimes, and he gets a little into it, like closing his eyes, but when he hears your sniffle which somehow reaches him over your whines and his grunts and all that nasty sinner shit (amen) he stops and stares down at you

your face is turned away so he carefully turns it towards him and instantly slides himself out, he hurries to turn on the lamp and lights (while buttnaked i might add)

he'll do a full on examination asking you where it hurts and taking a little peak to make sure it's nothing bad, he ends up grabbing a warm cloth and placing it on your area while he runs a bath

he's fairly hesitant to do anything beyond making out for the next day or maybe two, if not that then he's extremely gentle and makes sure to listen a little closer just in case your sounds aren't from pleasure

he goes pretty hard most of the time, and unlike the two men above, he doesn't always pay the most attention to whether or not you're enjoying it- only because he's to lost in his own pleasure most of the time

once he realized you're hurting, he slows down a bit to make sure, then he full on freaks out and pulls out before reaching out and cupping your face

"w-what happened?!"

you kinda got to help him with what to do (he doesn't even know where the clit is smh)

if you tell him to get a wet cloth then he will (and i'm pretty sure the bathrooms are outside of the rooms on the ship so he may or may not run out nude, or just throw on his shorts and scare whoever is out there

once he has the cloth on your down there parts, and the water, he'll wait quietly until you ask him to snuggle, and he will definitely snuggle with you

he's very against sex for the next few days, like scolding you if you try to initiate it and reminding you of what happened, but he also buys you flowers at the next village because he's a sweety pie

he's sort of like zoro in the situation where he's a little too lost in his own pleasure, except he actually asks every few minutes if you're okay

when he hears you say no it takes a minute to register but then he stop and stumbles while trying to pull out

honestly i'm contemplating saying he'll go get marco

he won't even need you to tell him anything, he'll rush off and run around the ship grabbing a hot cloth, a water, some food, and a random collection of pill bottles from the infirmary

he finds the painkillers/tylenol/benadryl or whatever and gives you some, and then he puts the cloth on and gives you a snack and then curls up beside you feeding you the rest of the food (taking some for himself aswell obvi)

the sweet man looks like a kicked puppy the whole time and will not hesitate to cuddle with his hand down there with strictly innocent intents as you use it as a heating pad

((honestly tho he may or may not have asked one of the crew members for advice as he ran around the ship)) ((and mostly cried a tiny bit as he did so))

[vanderlustwords]

What if Steve leaves and she finds out she’s pregnant? I really love your alternate ending where he leaves for Peggy and wondering if you could write more about it. Doesn’t have to be him leaving a child behind that was just a question that popped into my head

Pairing: (past) Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Please do not repost/translate anywhere. Reblogs/Comments are much welcomed ♥

Continuation of: This Dress is Karma || Alternate Ending

Warnings: unbeta'd. Angst ending for Steeb.

Note: I don't know how you roped me into writing a 2.3k continuation but here I am LOL

Count: ~2.3k

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

You shut the door with a soft click, waiting until you hear the quiet footsteps fade away. The lump in your throat gets harder to swallow as you turn around, leaning back against the door and let out a shaky sigh.

You can't help but think those were some brave words you said to Steve. You desperately wanted them to be true. You did want to be so happy that it would physically pain Steve if he were to ever witness it.

You wanted it to be true that you were never going to see him again because he had hurt you so much, and he needed to stay away from you.

But when you lift your trembling hand to your stomach, you wonder if everything you said had been nothing more than a brave front.

"You alright?"

You immediately look up and see Bucky stepping out of the guest room, fully dressed with towel-dried hair.

You swallow and force a smile as you drop your hand.

"Yeah, you ready to head out?" You ask him as you stand up straight.

Bucky nods with a grumble before he grabs a strand of his hair. "I need a haircut first, though. Do you think we could find a barber first?"

"Sure," you say, turning around and opening the door with Bucky following you behind.

"You sure everything is okay?" Bucky asks you again.

The way your throat feels raw, the hysterical words that want to escape your mouth make you feel dizzy. You want to put your hand against your stomach again as if to see if you could suddenly feel a bump.

But you refrain because Bucky would get suspicious. Well, he'd probably think you had a stomachache first, but if you didn't stop acting strange, he would pry.

"Everything's fine," you mumble.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

As the weeks pass, more and more things begin to slip from you.

There is a layer of never-ending panic that sits right beneath your skin, crawling and setting your nerves on fire.

When you began to get morning sickness and threw up into the toilet, you began to shake.

The reality of your situation began to hit you.

You were pregnant.

With Steve's child.

Steve, who had abandoned you and was grey and old and probably would pass away soon.

The notion of it all had you throwing up in the toilet again.

You were alone, and you were scared.

What were you going to do? You couldn't rely on Steve anymore.

You looked down at your relatively flat stomach still, placing your hand against it.

There was a life growing inside you. What were you going to do?

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

It was harder to hide when Bucky came over almost every other day, even though he didn't live with you. He had stayed for a week after the confrontation with Steve but quickly found his own place.

Initially, that had made you feel more alone, like everyone couldn't wait to escape from you. But it had worked out when you needed alone time.

Bucky was currently in your kitchen, cooking up steaks for lunch for the two of you.

The smell of it made you deathly pale.

"What's going on with you?" Bucky asked with a frown as he set the steaks aside to rest.

You had to swallow hard before you could answer. "Nothing," you said weakly. "I'm—I'm sorry. I know you came all the way here to cook but I'm not really hungry."

"You've been saying that for days now, doll," Bucky pursed his lip. "I feel like I haven't seen you eat a proper meal lately. What's going on? I know things have been...hard. Especially since you last saw Steve, but this isn't okay. I need you to eat something in front of me that isn't pretzels, bananas, or bread."

The idea of sliding a piece of steak basted in butter had your stomach knot itself painfully.

You shook your head, but when Bucky insisted, slicing the steak and you watched the juices run, you couldn't hold it in anymore.

You took off to the bathroom in haste.

"Hey—" Bucky called out and took off after you, but you were quick to shut the door before you fell to your knees over the toilet and hurled.

"What's wrong?" Bucky yelled through the door, trying to jiggle it open but found you had locked it. "Open the door, doll. I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," you said shakily as you grabbed some toilet paper and wiped your mouth, eyes hot with tears. "I just—I just haven't been feeling well."

The silence on the other side of the door only lingered for a moment before Bucky used his metal arm to turn the doorknob so hard, it broke open.

He found you sitting on the floor, over the toilets, eyes rimmed red and your face pale.

Bucky carefully walks in and kneels slowly before you.

He thinks back the couple of weeks and how you've been going to the bathroom a lot more, and how you don't like going to restaurants to eat. You've been eating at home and the strangest things and wearing more flowy shirts.

He looks at your face, and the way you're trying to hold back your tears makes Bucky feel dread.

"Doll..." he calls you softly. "Are you—Are you pregnant?"

You let out a choked sob in response, face dropping as you close your eyes.

Bucky's quick to hold you in his arms as he strokes your back, his heart dropping.

There was only one person who could've gotten you pregnant.

There had been some dumb shit Steve's done the entire time Bucky's known him. Always getting into scraps he couldn't finish, always prideful when Bucky wanted to help him.

But it had been the first time Bucky's ever been so fucking pissed at Steve. It was the first time Bucky couldn't defend or make an excuse for his friend.

"Bucky, what am I going to do?" You trembled in his arms. "I can't—Steve isn't—I want to keep it but I'm alone."

Bucky swallowed so hard it was painful.

There was no fucking way he was ready to be a dad or step up in any kind of way—that is, if you even let him.

Fuck, you two didn't even have feelings for each other or anything. There was something, maybe, Bucky thought for the future. But now?

"You're not alone," Bucky reassured, keeping his voice still for your sake. "I'm here. I'm here all the way and I'm not gonna leave you, doll. Ever."

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

You manage to keep the fact that you're pregnant under the wraps easily. It helps that since saving the world, no one really meets up anymore. A part of you worries because you can't find Wanda anywhere, but you know she can find you if she wanted to.

Sam might be the only other person who knows, and Bucky was begrudging when accepting his help.

Months pass, and you're surprised how dedicated Bucky is. You're pretty sure you're on the verge of a mental breakdown constantly. A part of you worries Steve will show up, but Bucky reassures you that there's nothing Steve could do even if he did show up.

"Fuck..." you swore as Bucky was in the middle of figuring out how to build the crib the two of you got from Ikea. He looks up at you alarmingly. "I think my water just broke."

"Oh, shit, okay, okay!" Bucky jumps up right away and starts running around to grab the prepared bag as he helps you out into the car. "Don't panic!"

"Bucky, I'm literally about to push a baby out of my body. I'm going to fucking panic if I want to," you snap, and Bucky bites his lip to refrain from speaking as he zips through traffic.

"Oh, god," you say under your breath. You were having a baby. You were actually going to have a baby.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

"Bucky, you can't just carry her everywhere," you grumbled as you pushed the stroller through the park. "You're spoiling her."

"Yes, I can. She wants me to carry her and whatever my princess wants, she gets." Bucky declared indignantly at you while sticking his tongue out.

You sighed with a smile.

You couldn't believe a year has passed. Despite the time passing, you never really felt fully prepared as a mother. You were scared you were fucking it up all the time if you're honest.

Bucky holds your hand, and you give him a shy smile. That was new too. Slow and steady, as Bucky has always been, and you think you were falling for him because of that.

When you look up, your heart stops.

"Oh," Steve blinked.

Another year has passed, but you find Steve doesn't look too different. A little more tired perhaps, but still...Steve.

You feel panic creep up in your chest that threatens to become a panic attack before Bucky squeezes your hand.

"Breathe, doll," he whispers encouragingly to you, but it's loud enough for Steve to catch.

You do as he says, taking a few calming breaths. You want to keep walking, but it seems Steve can't stop staring at the child in Bucky's arms.

"Why don't you take Hazel to the pond? She really likes looking at the ducks," you tell Bucky, and he nods, warily looking at you and Steve. He sends Steve a curt nod before he takes the stroller with him and walks off.

Steve's eyes trail after Bucky.

You know then that he knows. It's not hard after all. Hazel looks like a spitting image of Steve, something that had been hard for you to deal with at first. Her blonde hair and blue eyes—the blue eyes were easier since Bucky's eyes were blue too, even if a darker shade.

But Hazel was so lovely; you loved her so easily.

"When did you know?" Steve asked.

You shrugged. "The day before we all saved the world."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Steve's voice was pained and betrayed, and you cocked your brow at him.

"Why? So you would stay?"

"Yes, I would have!" Steve insisted.

The sheer stupidity of the situation had you give a humourless laugh.

"The last thing I want is for you to stay because of a baby, Steve. You wanted to leave, despite everything, you chose to leave. We would only hate each other in the long run."

"That's not true," Steve denied. "When I made that choice, it wasn't because I didn't love you anymore."

"No, you just didn't love me enough."

The words rang clear, almost throwing Steve off-kilter.

The silence fell, and the two of you could hear Hazel laughing with Bucky in the distance as she shrieked.

"Don't you think I deserved to know about her?" Steve asked with his lips pursed.

"No," you answered honestly. "What do you, a 90 something-year-old man, have to offer her? You certainly can't step up and be her father. Your time keeps running out and the last thing I need is for Hazel to have instability. Did you want to be her grandfather? She's already met mine, so do you want to pretend to be Bucky's?"

"So, you're just gonna lie to her and let her think Bucky is her dad?"

Your eyes flash angrily.

"Bucky is her dad. He's the only dad that counts in every way. Do you know how hard it was for me? I was scared shitless, Steve. You can delude yourself into thinking otherwise, but you're unreliable. I couldn't come to you for help," you snap at him. "Do you know who was there every time I was puking my guts out, crying or screaming, or wanted pickles with peanut butter at 2AM? Who do you think was there for every appointment. Who bought fifty parenting and baby books to study religiously? It was Bucky. Even though I knew he was scared too, he was there. So, don't fucking try to make me and Bucky look like the bad guy. You have NOTHING to offer to Hazel."

Steve stood there wide-eyed, guilt crowding over his eyes. Steve doesn't want to say he regrets going back because that would mean a lifetime of regrets he can't get back.

"You're right," Steve said slowly, trying to appease your anger. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. It's not my place to say anything."

Even though Steve says it, he looks over to the little girl squealing in Bucky's arms. He looks at her blonde hair that she clearly got from him and your nose.

He and Peggy had children—children he loved more than anything.

But...the idea of his child with you...that was another reality he missed.

It seems to be that way always for him, Steve thought somberly. He was always missing something. Maybe you had been right about him.

Steve listens as you take a deep breath in and exhale.

"Do you want to meet her?" You offer, and Steve can tell it's difficult for you to say those words.

"If you're okay with it," Steve said slowly.

You nod stiffly. "It's fine as long as you respect my wishes and refrain from telling her you're her bio dad. I want to save that conversation for when she's older and able to understand it more."

You don't say it, but Steve is already thinking how he'll most likely be gone by then.

The two of you begin to walk towards Bucky and Hazel.

"What will you tell her?" Steve asked.

"The truth," you shrug. "That you were the world's greatest hero and you loved her and would've loved to get to know her if you stayed, but you didn't and it wasn't her fault."

"Right, it was mine," Steve felt a sting in the back of his throat.

"I don't think it was anyone's fault," you tell him. "It's just karma, Steve. I wasn't enough for you and now you're not enough for Hazel."

Right, Steve thought somberly as he looked at you in your summer dress. It was different from the sexy red one that used to drive him insane.

It was a calm peace, a show of your motherhood and graceful maturity.

This dress is karma, too.