#YEAH THAT POLL WAS NOT OVER BUT I GOT REALLY EXCITED SORRY

[squishosaur]

fakemon starters for my poketwst au

(sleighter 🔥 / leaflette 🌿 / washdoubt 💧)

[delicatebarness]

i think he knows | chapter eleven

Summary: There is a celebration for one of the Rogers to be held.

Warnings: Kissing?

Word Count: 1377

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A/N: For everyone who voted for this in my poll today, I've been reading and listening don't worry. I know you miss Sunshine.

Tags: @bigtreefest | @caplanbuckybarnes | @angelbabyyy99 | @mega-kittyglitter-1 | @cjand10 | @armystay89 | @itvy5601 | @spider-mans-hoe

Soft patterns are painted against your bedroom wall as the morning sun filters through the curtains. You stirred awake with a sense of excitement, rubbing the remnants of sleep out of your eyes you could hear the faint sounds of movement coming from your bathroom. Steve was already up. 

Rolling out of bed, the events of the night before were still fresh in your mind. Bucky’s confession about the list had left you with mixed emotions: gratitude, surprise, and also a sense of trust. Despite the chaos you were welcomed by at Stark’s Motors, Bucky’s gesture had been a reassurance of his sincerity.

As you headed downstairs, you found your parents gathered in the kitchen. The nervous energy filled the air. Your dad was sitting at the table, his leg bounced anxiously as he repeatedly checked the time on his watch.

“Any news yet?” you asked, taking a seat at the table. 

Your dad shook his head, there was a hint of frustration in his voice. “Not yet,” 

Your mom shot a worried glance towards your dad, their concern was evident. Suddenly, the familiar chime of an email incoming broke the tension. Your parent's eyes widen as they sucked in a breath and turned towards the stairs. 

“I got it!” Steve exclaimed, his voice filled with joy as he rushed down the stairs, laptop in hand. “I got the scholarship!” 

Your parents rushed to their feet, erupting in cheers as they enveloped Steve in hugs and congratulations. Relief washed over you as a smile tugged at your lips. “That’s fantastic, Steve!” your dad exclaimed, his eyes shined with pride at his son’s achievement. “Tonight we’ll celebrate, dinner anywhere you want!” 

Steve’s grin widened, nodding eagerly. “Yeah, that sounds great!” 

~

As Steve drove you both down the familiar streets, the sunlight cast a warm glow over the town, and you shared a comfortable silence. The morning had been eventful, but now, as you headed to school together, there was a sense of peace in the air. 

Glancing over at your brother, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. “I really am proud of you, Steve,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. His smile widened at your words. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry about what happened at the game,” 

Steve shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. It’s in the past now.” A few moments passed, the car began to stop at a red light and Steve turned to you. “Listen,” he began, his voice soft but firm. “I don’t want you getting too close to Bucky,” he continued with a somber tone. “I’ve seen the way he can be, and I don’t trust him.” 

Your heart sank, you weren’t surprised that Steve was still adamant about you and Bucky but the disappointment washed over you. “But Steve,” you began, pausing for a moment to search for the right words. “I don’t think he’s as bad as you think.”

He sighed, his gaze returned to the road. “I know you might not see it, but I just want what’s best for you,” As the light turned green, he continued the journey ti school. “I don’t think Bucky is it.”

~

The hallway bustled with passing students as you felt a hand grip your wrist, before you knew it you had been pulled into a dimly lit bathroom. Your heart raced for a moment before looking up at the small smile playing against Bucky’s lips. 

Before you could utter a word, Bucky’s lips crashed against yours in a fervent kiss, a wildfire of desire igniting within you as your back hit against the cold tiled walls. For a moment, you lost yourself in the heat until a pang of concern pierced through you. 

Breaking away from his embrace, your eyes darted around the bathroom and your voice trembled with urgency. “What if someone catches us?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he brushed a strand of hair away from your flushed face. His voice was laced with confidence as his hand moved down to cup your cheek. “I’ll be careful, I promise.” 

Your resolve wavered as you drowned in Bucky’s intense gaze, your resistance crumbled. “Okay..” You closed the gap between you again, your lips meeting again in a tender kiss. The embrace was filled with a quiet intensity, it felt like it was lasting a lifetime. 

When you finally parted, your breaths mingled in the stillness of the bathroom. Bucky’s voice was soft with longing as he spoke. “Hey, I was thinking… maybe we could sneak away after school, and have a little fun just the two of us.” 

A surge of excitement coursed through you at the suggestion, but also a flicker of guilt. “I wish I could, but my dad is taking us out to celebrate Steve getting into college tonight,” You began to fidget with the zipper that hung from his leather jacket. “I can’t get out of that.” 

Bucky’s lips curled into a smile, resting his forehead against yours. “It’s okay, Sunshine,” Letting out a relieved sigh, Bucky’s understanding lifting a weight off your shoulders, your hand found his, fingers intertwining. “We’ll find another time,” Bucky said softly, squeezing your hand gently. 

You nodded, as the sounds of the hallway filtered through the walls. Bucky leaned in for one last lingering kiss before reluctantly pulling away. After a final glance, you turned to leave the bathroom, your hand slipping from his as you stepped back into the crowded hallways. 

As you set off toward your next class, a smile played on your lips as the thoughts of his lips on yours lingered in your mind. 

~

The celebration dinner for Steve was a lively affair, held at a quaint local diner that you knew Steve came to with his friends and Sharon. The diner had been decorated with colorful streamers and balloons, all the colors of the college he would be heading to. The air was filled with buzzing chatter of other families and friends eating out, and the aroma of food. 

Settled into a cozy corner booth, the vinyl seats creaked slightly. This diner was nothing compared to the one Bucky took you to the evening before. You noticed Steve had changed into his best shirt and tie, looking every bit the part of the accomplished high school senior. His smile hadn’t faltered all night. 

Throughout the dinner, conversations were consumed by laughter and animated gestures. Your parents couldn’t contain their pride, showering your brother with praise. You found yourself joining in, expressing how proud you were of his achievement. 

As the plates of fries and burgers were being passed around the table, Steve retold tales of the scholarship application process and how he achieved it. Each story was met with understanding nods and verbal recognition. 

You couldn’t shake off the encounter with Bucky earlier in the day, his kisses lingering in your mind. As you stole the occasional glance at Steve, you couldn’t help but wonder if he could sense the turmoil beneath your cheerful facade. 

When dessert arrived, your dad raised his plastic cup for a toast. “To Steve, I couldn’t be prouder of you.” His eyes glistened with pride as he directed his words towards your brother. “From the moment you set your sights on this scholarship, you showed determination, perseverance, and commitment,” You smiled as you glanced over at Steve, just as Sharon placed her hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “You poured your heart and soul into every application, every essay, every game.”

As your dad continued to praise your brother, you thought about what your life would look like in a year. Who would be at a table like this when you get your acceptance letter? What will your dad say about you? Would Steve be back home to celebrate? Would you have someone by your side, offering reassurance? Would it be Bucky?

“... may your future be filled with success, happiness, and endless possibilities. We love you.” 

You were brought back to the present by the cheers and applause of your family. With a smile, you raised your cup high in tribute to your big brother, and silently to your journey ahead of you.

---

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[bryngmemoney]

✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

tw:none

Writing in between messages!!

🪡Chapter Thirty-three: Rehearsal

“These are actually really good,” Megumi said, digging his fork through another piece of the pancake. “Not too sweet?” you asked him.

“Not too sweet,” he confirmed.

“Are you excited for the show?” Megumi put a hand over his mouth, making sure not to completely swallow the food he had in his mouth before answering. “More nervous, but everything’s been going good at the past rehearsals, so hopefully this will go over well.”

“You’ll do great, you won’t mess up promise,” you smiled at him, returning your attention to your food.

“Hope so.”

“Looks good to you?” you asked Megumi as you helped adjust his hair a little more. “Yeah, looks better honestly.” You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Y/n can you help me out, the hair in the back doesn’t wanna stay,” Ino spoke up a few feet besides you two. “Hm? oh yeah sure.”

You stood up straight, moving over to help style his hair back. “Thanks, sorry didn’t wanna bother but I couldn’t get it.”

“Yeah don’t worry, I’m not the best either at this but we have help around too just in case.”

Just as you were finished adjusting Ino’s hair, Megumi spoke up “Y/n I just noticed this parts uneven.” You looked over, stepping back towards Megumi. “Which part?” you asked placing your hand on his shoulder.

He stared at the mirror for a second, before meeting your eyes in it. “Oh never mind, I think I was just looking at it wrong.”

“Y/n!”

You turned around to the calling of your name, seeing Inumaki spin Yuki around towards you. “Look Y/n your friend did a great job! I love it!” Yuki announced. “Wow, you do look great Yuki!”

“And they said it wasn’t the same thing,” Inumaki nodded his head towards another station where Maki and Nobara where currently working.

You saw Maki and a volunteer assistant happily working on Kirara, with Choso looking up in your guys direction, eyes on Yuki, and Yuta happily chatting away with them. Next to them you could see Nobara argueing with Sukuna trying to get something on his face but his hand kept swatting it away. A nervous looking Kamo slowly inching away from them.

“Alright, we can chill for a few, we’ve got 10 minutes before needing to be in the backstage.”

“Good luck,” you told Megumi. “It’s still just practice, save it for the actual show.” You both leaned against a wall in the backstage area, seeing everyone file in to get lined up in order.

“You know the project?” Megumi brought up.

“Photography?”

“Yeah,” Megumi smiled at you, “I got an A, said it was nice to see me try something different.”

“Different? In what way?” you questioned

“He said it was nice seeing a more personal touch from me.” You looked at him, giving him quick peck on the cheek. “Good, you deserved it, it was beautiful, well at least to me.”

“Get lined up you can have your moment later,” Maki said approaching you two, “We gotta start heading out,” she told you. You raised your hand slightly, “See you in a few then.” Megumi returned the gesture, “See you.”

Author’s Note: more megumi fluff :3

ok one more chapter and a little epilogue left after this one

also guys i’m prob gonna post a poll for the next smau to do cause i can’t decide btwn two 😭😭 so that’ll be up tomorrow too

hope you guys enjoyed!!

Taglist below, feel free to comment or dm me to be added for the last chapter!!

TAGLIST

@iridescentrays @gumimegz @maya-maya-56 @mamafly @lunavixia @swissy23 @coltsgf @m00nglad3-mp3 @etsukis @xosren @qtnfer @oengleli @harek89 @y-sabell-a @morgyyyyyyy @getolvr @liliumaraneae @k3lbade @aiieera @dancedancey @get0sfav @chuyasthighs0 @hyssoplampflickers @kpopanimen @sad-darksoul @vivi-loves-penguins @kasumitenbaz @talkingsperm @nymphsdomain @inlovewithlondonn @rzcnlb @enchantingkitty @fuyuzemi @lysaray @ni-ki-ismyluv @reneny @frumira @mixzimi @miralunaela @dreamxiing @p3achiee @anianurst @fishii28 @arguendo @samutoru @hallothankmas @invisible-mori @aiserex @all-in-the-fandoms @milza12 @nyxlai @daintyminho @tokyodarlng @molovs @hopeladybug @dazaisms

[ladamedusoif]

Visiting - Chapter 12: If I Must Have A Future

(moodboard by @agentjackdaniels)

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

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

Chapter summary: Spring break comes to Barrow, and with it a European trip with major consequences for Ben and Lydia.

Word count: ~18k words (I'm so sorry but HEY LOOK THEY'RE BACK!)

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Warnings (chapter specific): Smut; quite a lot of smut really; oral sex (M and F receiving); unprotected but safe PiV sex; fingering; praise kink; very mild submission kink if you squint; self-esteem and body/weight insecurity; anxiety; angst; family dynamics; strong language; alcohol consumption; references to past instances of emotional abuse; fluff

A/N: Oh, boy. This was a labour of love. An incredibly important part of their story, and one that took me ages to get ‘right’. This is not the end of Visiting - I’m planning about three more chapters, which will not be as long as this one. So there is still more to come from Ben and Lydia.

I wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who was so kind and excited about the little Christmas one-shots I wrote for this pair - sometimes I feel like my dorks are the last kind of characters people want in this fandom, and it was lovely to see that they have readers who actually care (and even miss them!). Thank you too to everyone who voted in the poll about the chapter length. You wanted the full-on 18,000 words - you’re getting it.

And a special word for @agentjackdaniels, who screamed with me when we got one of the most Benergetic red carpet looks I’ve ever seen at the Emmys, who made my gorgeous new header image, and who has helped me see more times than I’d care to admit over the last few months that I matter and make a difference, especially around here. I hope I have done the same, too.

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

Chapter 11 - Chapter 13

Cross-posting to AO3 (and if you’re reading on there, too, and yelling along in the comments, love you!)

Further A/N at the end of the chapter.

The title of this chapter is a line from the Fontaines DC song “I Love You”, which is not terribly romantic, all told, but I heard it over the holidays and this lyric hit me hard: If I must have a future/I want it with you.

Taglist: FYI I’m retiring taglists as they are giving me so much trouble with people not getting notifications - follow me on @ladameecrit and turn on notifications. But just in case: @agentjackdaniels, @tessa-quayle , @vermillionwinter , @iamskyereads , @tieronecrush, @perennialdoll247 , @love-the-abyss, @javierisms, @fuckyeahdindjarin , @littlemisspascal , @khindahra , @pedrostories , @readingiskeepingmegoing , @rhoorl , @red-red-rogue , @princessanglophile , @katareyoudrilling @survivingandenduring , @trulybetty @fictionismyreality @sunnywithachanceofjavi , @joeldjarin , @lahoozaherr, @s-u-t, @its-nebuleuse

“We will shortly be beginning our descent. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”

You have never been one for sleeping on planes. Ben, on the other hand, has been snoozing away for the last two hours, the thin airline blanket comically small on his broad frame. 

You put a hand on his arm to gently rouse him. “Love? We’re almost there.” 

He blinks awake, eyes sleepy and hair askew, and stretches out his arms. “Mmmmfff. Hi, Lyd. You excited?”

“Yeah, I am. I’m really looking forward to seeing them.” 

You’d mentioned the trip shortly after Valentine’s, during a conversation after dinner about plans for the spring break. 

Your spring visit home had been booked since well before Christmas. A few days at home, visiting your family and catching up, and then to Paris for a week of tying up loose research ends and some vacation time. 

It sounded blissful at the time. Now, your anticipation was tempered with disappointment at the prospect of leaving him here. 

“So, uh, what are you doing for spring break, love? You going west, or…”

He shrugs. “Ordinarily I’d try to get a few days in San Francisco. But everyone’s got plans and is out of town on various trips, so there’s no point.” He looks a little resigned. “So it’s time catching up on work and my reading here, I guess. Maybe do some prep for directing the student play after the vacation. When are you back from your trip?”

There’s a nervous knot in your stomach. Just ask. Just do it. 

“Could you take your reading and directing prep on the road?”

He looks perplexed. You take a deep breath. 

“What if you came with me?” 

Ben’s eyes widen. “Come with you? To see your family?”

Oh, fuck. You’ve pushed your luck. This is too weird. 

“No, don’t worry about it.” You stand up from the table and pick up your plates. “I just knew I’d miss you but it’s probably too much. It’s fine. Forget I said it.”

He follows you into your tiny kitchen and leans against the doorframe. “What if I wanted to come?”

“Wanted? I mean, you seemed totally stunned that I’d even ask.”

He shakes his head and smiles gently. “Not stunned, as such. Surprised, maybe? But not in a bad way.”

“Why surprised, then?” You cross the small linoleum floor and wrap your arms around his waist. He blushes, tucking his chin against his chest bashfully. 

“I dunno. Just that you want to bring me home with you? It… it means a lot to me.”

“It means a lot to me just to ask you, love. But you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

He looks at you with those big dark eyes and you feel your heart swell. “But I think I’d like to. As long as that’s okay with your family, of course? I don’t want to be in the way.”

You laugh and raise your eyebrows. “In the way? I think they’d be more excited about seeing you than me.” You rest your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “You know they think you’re great, you’ve been on the video calls. My mother asks me more about you than she does about myself.”

He wraps an arm around you and kisses the top of your head. “It’s different in person, sometimes.”

You shake your head. “Mmmm, I don’t think so in this case. You haven’t been dealing with daily queries about the welfare and wellbeing of Ben Morales. And no, she doesn’t yet seem to realise she can just call you by your first name.”

He chuckles and holds you closer. “Guess I’d better go book some flights, huh?”

Ben pushes the luggage cart towards the sliding doors and out into the bright, bustling Arrivals area, where families wait excitedly at the barrier to greet their loved ones. 

“LYDIAAAAAAAA!” 

You immediately spot your parents, standing right in the centre of the barrier, aligned with the sliding doors. It’s still very early in the morning and you wonder how long they’ve been here, waiting at the perfect spot to see the two of you emerge. 

You give Ben’s arm a reassuring squeeze as the two of you walk towards your excited family. “You’re not a stranger, love. They already love you. Remember that.”

Ben has barely exited the arrivals area when he’s enveloped in a warm embrace by your mother, who seems to have forgotten you entirely. Your father puts an arm around you and smiles widely while your mother coos over Ben. “And Ben Morales! Welcome, welcome. We’re so delighted to have you.”

Your mother has had her hair done and is dressed in an outfit that feels somewhere between “weekday lunch at a nice restaurant” and “Sunday best”. She’s also using what you and Kate refer to as her “telephone voice” when she speaks to Ben, more clipped and flatter than her usual tones. 

“Mom, he knows what you sound like normally, you don’t need to put on the fancy accent.” You hug your father tightly and notice that his eyes are shining. He’s similarly neatly dressed, wearing a nice smart-casual pair of pants and a matching shirt and v-neck light sweater. 

“I am talking normally!” your mother fires back, followed by a tinkly laugh as she tilts her head and smiles at Ben. He smiles broadly, though you know he’s shattered, and your mother gives you a look that says “See? Ben likes me.”

Your father shakes Ben’s hand before embracing him. “The two of you must be exhausted,” he says, arm still wrapped around Ben’s shoulders. “Let’s head to the car.”

Ben and your dad lead the way, your mother reaching for your hand and giving it a warm squeeze as you walk companionably a few steps behind. 

“Welcome home, pet. I’m delighted he’s here too. We’re so happy for you.” She looks ahead and appraises Ben’s broad frame as he pushes the luggage cart and chats to your father. 

“Grand big man, isn’t he?”, she says approvingly. “Don’t look at me like that, Lydia!”

“There’s milk there and bread and tea and coffee and a few biscuits and butter and a couple of bags of crisps and -“

“Mom, we’re fine. We’ll take care of ourselves. Okay?”

Your mother throws up her hands in resignation. “Alright! Just wanted to make sure you didn’t starve.” 

Kate, Marc, and their little girls have taken over your parents’ house for the duration of renovation works on their own home, and in the interests of space (and your sanity) you’d booked a small holiday flat in your hometown for the visit. Now, with Ben in tow, the privacy of the flat was even more welcome. 

“Thank you. I mean it. Now, can we please go and get some rest?” You hug her tightly and she kisses your cheek, before looking in Ben’s direction. 

“Of course. We’ll see you later, though? For something to eat? Kate and Marc and the girls are that excited to see you, I think they might burst.”

You stand beside Ben, bringing your hand to the small of his back, and wave your parents off as they return to the car. They’re not even out of earshot when you hear your father saying “He wouldn’t let her lift a single bag! Not one! Helped her all the time. Lovely chap. Very nice. Far cry from the other fucker…”

Subtlety has never been their strong point. You just hope Ben is too jet-lagged to have heard what they said.

A relaxed family meal, she said. Nothing special, she said. Come over in the early afternoon. It’s just like a Sunday lunch, she said. 

Your mother is reading Ben a list of menu options that’s longer than in some restaurants. His eyebrows rise and fall as he takes it in and considers the possibilities.

“Honestly, Mrs -“

“MARIE. I told you.”

“Honestly, Marie, I’ll just have whatever everyone else is having. It all sounds great. Do you need any help in the kitchen?”

“I most certainly do not. You can have whatever you want. You are the guest.” 

“Seriously. Whatever’s easiest.” He looks nervously at you and speaks in a low voice. “What is easiest?” 

You shrug. “Probably the beef.”

He beams at your mother and tells her he’ll have some beef. She tilts her head, smiles delightedly at him, and does that tinkly laugh again before returning to the kitchen. 

The meal is delicious but, inevitably, chaotic. Your three-year-old niece Cora, who had insisted on sitting between you and Ben (Benjamoo, as she persisted in calling him), realises quickly that the family-style service meant she could help herself to her favourite sides as and when she wanted, chubby little hands rapidly making a mark on the mashed potato and carrots. Your mother keeps asking if the food is hot enough. Kate and Marc try to talk to Ben while corralling little Evie and making sure she gets fed. 

Your father, meanwhile, veers between talking delightedly to the little girls and engaging Ben in a rapidly-shifting conversation that covers San Francisco, transatlantic flights, whether Ben liked sports, and a detailed description of the plot of a film he’d watched the week before. You couldn’t work out which film it was, but you knew it had Kevin Costner in it. Mostly because your dad kept referring to him as “Kevin Costner”, rather than by the character’s name. 

You rest a hand on Ben’s knee, under the solid dining table your father had made for the family home when you were barely two. 

“You doing okay? I know we’re a bit much…”

His warm hand covers yours and he smiles softly. 

“I’m great, Lyd. And you haven’t been to a Morales family meal yet - now that’s a bit much. Just you wait and see.”

You grin and lean your head affectionately on his shoulder for a moment, winding your fingers through his, never noticing the conspiratorial, knowing look exchanged between Kate and your mother. 

You and Ben insist on clearing the dishes, making short work of loading the dishwasher before your parents can tell you off for letting the guest do the chores. Through the kitchen window you see Cora running towards her little plastic play house, on temporary loan to your parents’ back garden while Kate and Marc’s building work is being completed. Kate follows swiftly behind, waving a soft fleece jacket at her daughter.

After wrangling Cora into her jacket, she appears at the back door. “Cora wants to know if Ben can come and visit her tea shop. Not you, Lyd. She was very clear about that. Only Benjamoo.”

He smiles happily and puts down his dish towel, before making a sympathetic face at you and kissing your cheek. “Sorry, Lyddie. I guess I better take up my invitation.” 

It’s a hilarious and adorable sight: Ben, sitting cross-legged on the mat beside Cora’s house, hair a bit messy and eyes still a little tired behind his glasses, broad-shouldered in his grey Berkeley sweatshirt and decidedly out of proportion to the pink-and-white plastic cottage. You can hear him giving Cora his order and talking rapturously about the “tea” she serves him in a little pink cup, while she giggles and claps her hands. 

Marc and your father arrive in the kitchen, your brother-in-law carrying little Evie in his arms. “Evie thinks she’s missing out on the fun with Ben and Cora,” he announces, opening the back door. “And we want to make sure Cora doesn’t try to force-feed mud cakes to your boyfriend.”

You’d been so nervous about this - not because you thought your family wouldn’t like Ben, or vice versa, but because by definition the first visit to your partner’s family feels a little like an audition of some kind. It has the potential to go horribly wrong, no matter how well prepared you are, or how many video calls you’ve had over the last couple of months.

But here he is, now, integrated happily into your close-knit family of origin, getting on famously with your parents, sister, and brother-in-law, and making your beloved little niece laugh like a drain as he pretends to drink from her toy teapot. Like he was always here. Or always meant to be here.

There’s a surge of emotions in your chest: deep love and affection, above all, but with it a reminder that your future together is by no means assured. Assuming, of course, that he wants a future together. 

“He’s good with kids, isn’t he?” 

Kate’s voice startles you. “Where did you come out of?”

“I’m stealthy when I want, Lyd. Anyway, you haven’t answered my question.”

You throw a bombastic side eye in your younger sister’s direction. “I know what you’re getting at.”

Kate shrugs, the picture of innocence. “I’m just observing.”

“Ben is a wonderful uncle. Just as I am a wonderful aunt. We like that. And that’s one of the things I love about him.” You lean on the kitchen counter, voice quieter. “So…what do you think?”

Kate arches an eyebrow in your direction. Your mother arrives in the kitchen with impeccable timing, as ever. 

“What do I think of what?”

“You know what. Who. Him. Ben.”

Your mother laughs as she fills the kettle with water and puts it on to boil for some teas and coffees. She turns round to face her two daughters. “Well, Kate, I don’t know about you, but - he wouldn’t be for me.”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

Kate opens a cupboard and starts to take out some mugs. “I know what you mean, mom. Not really for me, either.”

“You know yourself, Kate,” your mother adds, finding a carton of milk in the fridge and filling a small milk jug, “Just not my thing at all.”

Anger spreads hot and warm across your face. “Good, because he’s not your fucking ‘thing’, he’s my thing and I can’t believe how two-faced you’re being. All sweetness and light and then saying he’s not really for you and -”

Your mother holds out a hand, expression deadpan. “Lydia, not everyone wants a man who’s kind and funny and genuine and clearly worships the ground his girlfriend walks on.”

“Exactly,” Kate chimes in. “Just because you love someone who’s really smart and nice and good with kids and is actually kind of cute in a dorky way doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”

For a moment, your confusion and anger doesn’t quite let you hear what they’re saying. “I’m not asking you to be in love with him, I’m just - oh. Oh.”

Marie and Kate burst out laughing. 

“Well, fuck the two of you. Forty-two years and you’re still winding me up.”

Your mother wraps you in a warm cuddle. “Ah, poor Lyd. We’re sorry. We just couldn’t resist.”

“He’s so lovely, Lyd,” Kate adds, embracing you from behind. “I mean it. Marc thinks so, too. I know I said at Christmas that he looked like he’d been engineered in a lab for you and it looks like I was right. And Ben’s even cuter in the flesh, not that I notice such things.” She coughs for dramatic effect. “What with being a married mother of two.”

“And he loves the bones of you, darling girl,” your mother whispers. “And sure, why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know about you, love, but I’m shattered.” 

Ben glances over at you and wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing you in to nuzzle against his chest. He holds up his copy of the script for Samuel Beckett’s Endgame, multicoloured tabs fluttering like tiny flags. 

“I’m just going to work through one more scene, is that okay?”

You hum contentedly. “Of course, love. How’s it going, anyway?”

He flicks through a few pages, scanning his notes and annotations. The comparative literature students put on a play every year, towards the end of the second semester, and Ben had to step in at short notice as director after a colleague in French fell ill. “It’s a relief we’re doing it in the English translation, put it that way. I just don’t know why Jen thought I could take this on, after Michèle went on sick leave.” 

You idly rub his tummy and kiss his side through his old shirt. “Because she knows you’re great and talented and the students love you, Mr Director.”

He huffs a laugh, marks up another section, adds a tab, and closes the book before taking off his glasses and shuffling down the bed and wrapping his free arm around you. He kisses the top of your head and holds you tight. 

“Thank you for bringing me home with you.”

You open your eyes and glance up at him. “Sure they haven’t put you off?”

“It would take a lot to put me off, Lyd. Anyway, they’re great. It - it meant a lot, to be welcomed like that, by the people you love.”

He looks down at you, and you place a light kiss on his jaw, smiling at the bristle of his beard against your lips. His gaze is solemn and intense as he reaches for your hand.

“I’m serious about this, Lyd. About us. You know?”

“I know. I’m serious about us, too. Deadly serious, in fact.”

He smiles, eyes shining, and kisses you, soft and slow, pulling you closer and working a path of kisses down the side of your neck as your body writhes against his. Tiredness is forgotten, for the moment, as you slip your hand inside the waistband of his loose boxers and tug them down, fingers wrapping around his cock. Ben sighs against your chest as you stroke him, his mouth finding your nipples as his long fingers trace the wetness building between your legs. With one leg hitched across his, you angle your hips just so and guide him inside you as he whispers your name against your ear. 

After you’ve made love, Ben falls asleep mid-cuddle, and you tuck yourself against him and close your eyes. But sleep doesn’t come easy. You should be delighted, after the beautiful day you’d had. But there’s an anxiety building in the back of your mind that you can’t quite shake. 

Serious this relationship may be, but spring will soon turn to summer, and with it the prospect of being separated indefinitely by an entire ocean and several time zones. Kate was wont to remind you that you “could just do distance for a while”, and she meant well. It was intended to reassure you. 

The problem was, the more you thought about what that option would actually mean, the less comfort it provided.

Over the next couple of days, you introduce Ben to the world of your hometown, to the places and people that shaped you. It is strange, at first, to see him, whole and present, in the spaces that defined your childhood. But it is a beautifully intimate thing, sharing memories with someone you love. You lay yourself even more bare before them, revealing the you that was before they knew you. 

The two of you have, of course, shared so much about yourselves and your pasts with each other in the time since you met. But this was different. Walking with him, pointing out your old schools, old haunts, swapping memories and stories, introducing him to random relations you meet in the streets: you are quietly knotting the strands of your past - with all its love, loss, joy and sorrow - with the man who, you hope, represents your future. 

Kate and Marc insist on bringing you to dinner one night. “It’d be wrong not to,” Marc had explained as you sat in your parents’ living room, Ben playing peek-a-boo with Evie while your mother looked on approvingly. “Sure we have built-in babysitting while we’re staying with Joe and Marie.” 

Your mother’s expression shifted instantaneously, shooting daggers at your brother-in-law. “Cheeky.”

Your hometown is not known for haute cuisine, but Kate booked a table at the nicest restaurant in town and it has been a perfect evening: good food, decent wine, and the pleasure of seeing how well Ben, Kate, and Marc are getting along. You and Kate go to the bathroom at one point, and she eyeballs you as you top up your lipstick, side by side, in the mirror. 

“Think he’s passed the audition, Lyd.” She pouts and blows a kiss at her reflection. “Oh, and guess what? We’ve got a special immersive cultural experience planned for the rest of the night.”

You swivel and glare at her. “And what does that involve, exactly?”

Kate picks up her handbag and does a little shimmy on the spot. “The Roxy, Lyd. The ultimate method of integrating your lovely Benjamin into your native place.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

The Roxy was once the town’s cinema, built in the 1940s and made redundant by the coming of the multiplex in the 1990s. Its owners had moved swiftly, though, and transformed the Roxy into a nightclub. It was a site of memorable nights out dancing with your friends, of crying in the bathrooms when you realised your crush was interested in someone else, of bad kissing, of telling random men to fuck off when they told you to smile, of screaming with glee when “Hey Ya” came on.

 If the Roxy was a taste, it would be peach schnapps and orange squash. Its smell, meanwhile, had lodged permanently in your memory: old cigarettes, sticky carpets, cheap aftershave, vanilla musk body spray. 

She was not kidding. You and Kate sit on some banquette seating in a corner of the Roxy’s lounge - which was just a separate floor with slightly better, more old-school music - and take in the completely incongruous sight of Ben, followed by Marc, weaving his way through the habitual crowd of locals with your drinks in hand. 

“Vodka tonic for Lyddie, gin and tonic for Kate.” Ben places the glasses on the table and nestles in beside you, giving your thigh a little squeeze. He reaches for his bottle of beer and raises it slightly. “Uh, cheers, I guess?”

Kate enthusiastically clinks her swimming pool-sized glass of gin and tonic off Ben’s drink. “Cheers! Now, you have to promise me you’ll dance. Otherwise it’s not full assimilation.”

You groan audibly and stir your drink with the straw as Ben chuckles. “C’mon, Lyd, you’ve got moves.” He raises an eyebrow at you mischievously. 

You manage to stave off the inevitable for a while, finishing your first vodka tonic and about to suggest you go to the bar when a familiar opening melody sends Kate leaping out of her seat, excitedly grabbing her husband and beckoning to you. 

“AS IT WAS?!? COME OOOONNNN LYYYYD!” Kate bellows back to you and Ben from the tiny dancefloor, where Marc is already showing off a move you can only describe as “rhythmic shuffling” while mouthing Harry Styles’ lyrics.

You look at Ben. He stands, removes his jacket, and offers you his hand, smiling expectantly. His hand rests gently on the small of your back as you join your sister and brother-in-law on the dancefloor, and he pulls you in to whisper in your ear. 

“We can do better than them, can’t we?”

You laugh, leaning in as he wraps an arm around your waist, takes your hand, and helps you exorcise all those demons of heartbreak long past on the dancefloor. 

As she clambers into a taxi in the early hours of the morning, Kate turns and yells “I’m telling mom you’re bringing a boy home with you from the Roxy!”, before collapsing in hysterics as Marc takes her hand and pulls her into the car. They grin and wave at you and Ben as it disappears up the street and back towards your parents’ house.

You lean against Ben as you walk back towards the little flat you’d rented for your stay at home, sighing contentedly as he drapes an arm around your shoulders. 

“She’s right, though,” you giggle, “I’m actually bringing the hot boy home with me from the Roxy. I’ve come a long way from endless rejection and the odd bit of bad kissing.”

Ben huffs a laugh as you open the main door of the building and climb the stairs to the apartment. “Well, fuckin’ good.” He adds a sassy little head movement for emphasis. 

“Excuse me?”

“Fuckin’ good. Because what would have happened to me if you’d been swept off your feet by one of those bad kissing boys back then?” He follows you into the little entrance hall and, for all his joking tone, there’s a vulnerability lurking in his beautiful eyes.

You cradle his face in your hands. “I’d have found you one way or another, Benjamin.” A coy smile crosses your lips as you take him in - danced out, hair mussed, and so stupidly sexy you still can’t quite believe he’s real. 

Your fingers hook inside his waistband as you pull him tight to you, leading him into the living room and pushing him against the wall as you bring a hand to his crotch. “And I’d like to make the most of bringing the hottest man home from the club for once in my life, if you don’t mind. Especially seeing as he was worth the wait.”

Ben’s eyes widen and he half gasps, half chuckles as you undo his jeans and slip a hand inside his boxers, stroking his cock as you pepper his throat with tiny kisses. He leans down slightly to bring a hand under the skirt of your dress, hitching up the fabric and slipping two fingers into your panties to play with your clit as he kisses you: hungry, urgent, wanting. 

But you’ve had something else on your mind all night. You break the kiss and begin to sink to your knees, hands around Ben’s waist for balance. 

Your eyes flit up to meet his. “Let me make you feel good, darling.”

His breath hitches as he takes you in: hair a little messy, eyes wide and wild, lips slightly parted, the soft flesh of your tits rising and falling with your breathing. 

“Fuck, Lyd, you’re amazing.”

“That a yes?”

He swallows hard and nods rapidly. “Fuck. Yes. Yes. Please.”

You lick your lips and smile as you carefully tug down the waistband of his boxer briefs. Your mouth presses into the softest, most sensitive parts of him: a kiss, a lick, a little nip to his belly; a course plotted down from his abdomen to the hardening cock you hold in your hand. You take him into your mouth, tongue swirling gently over the tip as you stroke him, revelling in the sensation and the moans of pleasure you’re pulling from the gorgeous man above you. Ben rests his hand on the back of your head and leans back against the wall, panting harder as you find your rhythm. 

The ache between your thighs builds with his every grunt and groan. Your fingertips find your clit, rubbing little circles over it in a fruitless bid to find some relief. You ease his cock out of your mouth with a pop and Ben helps you to your feet before you take his hand and guide him to the couch.

You slip off your panties and encourage him to lie back on the sofa as you gather the skirt of your dress around your waist and straddle him. “Need to fuck you, my love.” 

He grips the flesh of your hips and thighs, fingers pressing into your body as you take him inside you and begin to ride him, relishing the slow drag of his cock as you come undone. He looks beautiful underneath you, eyes wide and shining as he watches every move of your body.

“Fuck, Lyd,” he pants, smiling up at you. “You look incredible.” He reaches up and pulls down your neckline, groping your breasts and gazing at you like you’re the sexiest thing he’s ever seen: head thrown back, eyes closed, and vocal. 

He begins to thrust up into you, finding a rhythm that complements yours, intensifying the sensation so much that you can’t help but cry out with pleasure. 

“Yes, baby…fuck, that’s so fucking good, Ben, that’s fucking it, fuck!”

“Take it, Lyddie.” His dark eyes stare into yours, hands still gripping you firmly. “Ride me, take what you need…fuck, good fucking girl. I’ll give you whatever you need, whatever you want.”

And he knows what you need, in that moment. His thick fingers slip between your thighs and find your clit, circling it over and over as you keep on fucking him. 

You come hard, the last flutters of your orgasm still working through you when Ben follows suit. He’s still inside as you bend forward to kiss him, trailing your hands over his beautiful face and through his damp hair. You rest on his chest and let the sound of his breathing start to steady you as he holds you close for a couple of moments.

“I love you so much, Lyddie,” he pants quietly, chuckling to himself. “You’re a hell of a woman.”

For your last day, Ben suggests that he might make dinner at the flat, as a gesture of thanks for your family’s hospitality. You suggest lasagne with some sides as a general crowdpleaser, borrow some dishes from your mother, and Ben gets to work while you lay the place settings. 

The lasagne is cooking away happily when your mother arrives with Kate, Marc, and the girls. You look puzzled. 

“Where’s Dad?”

Your mother rolls her eyes as Cora goes tearing off around the flat, Kate following swiftly behind. “He insisted he had to go to the football match tonight. Of course. Anyway, he said he’ll be here shortly.”

Ben emerges from the kitchen, clad in a navy and white striped apron you’d used back when you (briefly) did home economics at school. He kisses your mother and Kate on the cheek and hugs Marc, before bending down to give a delighted Cora a high five. 

“I made you a present,” she says quietly, suddenly shy. 

Ben brings himself down to her level. “A present? For me? That’s amazing.”

Kate rummages in her bag and produces a rolled-up piece of paper, handing it to Ben. “She did it all herself. Mostly.”

You stand beside him as he unfurls it and Cora looks down at her toes. The drawing features a large figure with a mop of dark wavy hair and a wide smile - “Benjamoo”, Cora points out helpfully - standing close beside a slightly smaller figure immediately recognisable as you. “Auntie Lyd,” she adds seriously, in case you weren’t aware. 

The figures’ stick arms are touching. “Holding hands,” Cora says. 

Ben looks at Cora, then up at you, and back to the little girl. “This is the best art anyone’s ever given me. I’m going to put it on my wall when I get home.” He stands, and reaches for your hand, noticing the tears threatening in your eyes. “Auntie Lyd will help. Won’t you?”

You nod and squeeze his hand. Cora starts to giggle and points at you and Ben. 

“See? Holding hands.”

Ben and Marc pop out to the nearest supermarket shortly afterwards, when you realise you had neglected to buy garlic bread. You sit in the open-plan kitchen and dining area with your mother while Kate plays with her daughters in the living room. 

“You alright, love?” Marie notices how you fiddle with the place settings and rub your fingers together, sure signs that something’s on your mind. 

“Mmm? Sorry, I was miles away. Yeah, I’m… I think so.” You exhale. “I don’t know.”

Your mother gives you a little breathing room, waiting to see if you’ll open up more. 

“It’s just… fuck. I don’t know. I - what the fuck are we going to do?”

She sighs softly and pats the back of your hand. “You and Ben?” 

“Me and Ben. It’s spring break. And there’s no clear pathway about what we’ll do when my year in Barrow ends and I have to come back to my job over this side of the ocean.”

“Well, I mean… I know you hate the thoughts of it, Lyd, but have you talked about it? Kate’s right, you could always do long-distance for a while, until you knew what you both really wanted.”

You put your head in your hands. “We’ve said that we’re very serious about the relationship.” 

“So then! There’s your answer. No?”

You look up at her mournfully. “Yes and no. Yes, we’re serious about each other. No, that doesn’t mean we have any idea how to manage the distance.”

Marie adjusts the salt and pepper cruets in the middle of the table. “People do it, Lyd. It’s a commitment but they make it work.”

You nod slowly. “I just don’t know if that’s what I want, at this stage in my life. We see each other every day. We’re practically living together.”

Your mother fans herself in mock horror. “And not a hint of a ring on the finger, goodness!”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Forty-two, mother dear. But yeah. I don’t know if I could go from that to not seeing Ben for weeks or a month or more at a time. Not now.”

“So what does that mean?”

You swallow hard. “I don’t know. One of us moves. He moves for me. I move for him. But that means trying to find a permanent academic job and in both places that’s like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“And if there’s no job? Distance as a temporary measure?”

You bite your lip. “But what if that’s still too hard?”

“So move.”

“But that means him giving up his life for me, or me uprooting for him, and being so far from all of you and from here and…” You look up at your mother, feeling like a scared little girl again.

“I love him so much, Mom. I never thought I’d love anyone like that. Never thought I’d even meet someone like that. And for him to love me in return…fuck.”

Marie shifts closer and wraps her arm around your shoulders. “I know, love. I know. You love the bones of each other. And it’s real love. Everyone can see it.”

“What do we do?”

“Lydia, I can’t tell you what to do one way or the other. Only you know what’s right for the two of you.”

You lean your head on your mother’s shoulder and she gives your hand a squeeze. “I know. It’s just - fuck, why does it have to be hard? Don’t I deserve things to work out, for once?”

“You do, pet. Of course you do. No one deserves it more.”

“Sometimes it feels crazy, y’know? This time last year I didn’t know Ben existed, and now -”

“Now it’s like you’ve known each other forever? Like you can’t imagine life without him?”

You turn to face her, and smile. “Exactly.”

“That’s love for you.” Marie purses her lips, thinking. “I’m only going to say one more thing. Your happiness.”

“Huh?”

“Lyd, for years you prioritised someone else’s happiness over your own. I know, I know, that fucker moved for you when you got the job away, I know that. But apart from that…it was all you. All you, trying to keep someone else happy and cracking under the strain.” She inhales and exhales, trying to curb the fury that still burns in her when she remembers how you were treated. 

“All I’m going to say is this: don’t worry about anyone else, Lyd. Not me, not Dad, not Kate, Marc, the girls, your job - nobody. Well, worry about Ben. But above all, prioritise your happiness. We have ours over here. It’s time for you to find yours.”

You hug her tightly. “One final question.”

She nods and waits. 

“What does Dad think of Ben? I know it wouldn’t change my feelings but given everything from the shitshow, I’d like to know he doesn’t absolutely loathe him.”

She looks at her phone and pushes away from the table, walking into the living room and opening the door of the flat. “Ask him yourself, Lyd. Here he is now.”

Your father comes into the kitchen, talking about something that happened at the local football match he’d attended that afternoon and eyes already locked on the kettle, his mind focused on making a cup of tea. 

“Joe? Lyd wants to ask you something.”

You roll your eyes at your mother. “It’s not a big deal.”

He turns around, tea caddy in hand. He’s been to this flat twice, you think, and he knows exactly where all the tea-making equipment is kept. 

 “Alright. Ask away, Lyd. Are you alright? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I just - Dad, what do you think?”

“What do I think of what?”

“Ben. Me and Ben, specifically. But also just Ben.”

Joe switches on the kettle and leans against the kitchen counter. “Sure, my opinion isn’t what matters. What matters is how you feel. Isn’t that right?” He looks to your mother for backup. 

“I said that to her, but she said she wanted to hear from you.”

He takes a mug out of the cupboard and drops a square teabag into it. “Lydia, is everything okay? Are you having any doubts about him, is that it?”

You laugh and shake your head. “Not a one.”

“And you don’t think he’s having any doubts about you? Because if he is I’ll fucking -“

“No, Dad. He… he’s very clear about how he feels.”

Your father nods in satisfaction. “Well, that’s reassuring. Would be strange if he wasn’t, given how he is with you. At least, what we’ve seen here.” He pours the freshly boiled water over the teabag and opens the fridge in search of milk. “But the point stands. You love each other, don’t you?”

You aren’t sure if your father has ever been so open or explicit with you in asking about a romantic relationship. Perhaps, you wonder, he regretted not being more honest about his concerns over the years of your longest one. 

“We do.” Your eyes fill with tears, unexpectedly. You swallow hard. “We love each other very, very much.”

“Okay then.” He stirs his tea vigorously, the metal of the teaspoon clinking off the stoneware mug. 

“But I still want to know what you think. It matters to me. Especially - especially after the last time.”

Joe pulls out a chair and settles at the table, your mother reaching automatically for a coaster and sliding it under the mug. “Lyd, you know what I’ve always said. There’s not one person walking this earth who deserves our lovely Lydia. Not one.”

Your heart sinks a little, and you nod. You’ve heard this a lot since your ex cheated and fucked off. You never really believe it. 

“But.” Your father pauses and sips his tea. 

“But?”

He looks at you and reaches out to touch your hand. “But - that lovely man you brought home definitely comes very close indeed.”

Right on cue, the front door opens and you can hear Ben and Marc chatting companionably and laughing together. Marc does a silly little dance into the kitchen, waving the garlic bread around like glow sticks.

“Now, please don’t destroy the garlic bread before it’s even gone into the oven, Marc!”

As your mother grabs the bread and sneaks a peek at the lasagne, now browned to perfection, Ben pulls you in for a quiet word.

“Lyddie, are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”

You lean against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. “I’m okay, darling. I just needed this. Needed you.” The oven timer pings and you look at him. “Time for Professor Morales to serve us his delicious lasagne. C’mon, we can plate up before my mother takes over.”

You thought goodbyes would get easier the longer you worked away from home, but the opposite turned out to be true. Your parents are doing their usual brave face routine at the airport: Joe clearly trying not to cry, Marie overdoing the levity to distract you and stave off her own sadness at seeing you go. 

“Paris in the springtime, Lyd! It’ll be gorgeous. She’s a great tour guide, Ben, she knows it all.” 

“She’s brilliant, Marie. But you knew that before the rest of us found out.” He reaches for your hand, holding it tightly as you start to feel the tears prickling. 

He only lets go as you both embrace your parents in turn, Ben thanking them repeatedly for their kindness. Then, his fingers curl around yours again, holding you strong and steady at the entrance to departures. 

“I love you both so much, you know? We’re so grateful.”

Your mother can’t hold back her tears any more, and her wet cheek presses against yours as she pulls you in for a final hug. “We love you so much. Both of you.” 

She pulls away and holds your gaze. “Both of you. Remember what I said to you, Lydia. Remember that.”

You nod and give Ben’s hand a little squeeze. “We should probably head on through. Safe home - message me when you get back, okay? We’ll see you soon.”

You keep waving back with every sharp turn you take in the queue for security, until eventually your parents’ faces are obscured by the crowd behind you, and you face forward into the security area, still holding Ben’s hand.

“Paris par train ou Paris par bus?”

Ben shrugs as he pushes the luggage trolley. “You’re the expert, Lyddie. What’s easiest?”

You summon up the mental map of Parisian transport options that is always ticking over at the back of your mind. “Train is quicker but involves a change at Châtelet Les Halles - ugh - and then again at Bastille. Bus gets us to Opéra which means we can get right on to line 8.”

“Bus?”

“Bus.”

Ben stacks your bags carefully in one of the Roissybus’s luggage areas and exhales as he takes a seat beside you. “You know it’s been almost thirty years since I was in Paris?”

“Excusez-moi?”

He chuckles. “Came up on a very poorly-thought-out visit with some friends while I was on exchange in Málaga. Overnight trains, hostels, no money, cheap wine. I barely saw the Eiffel Tower, let alone anything else.”

The bus pulls out of Charles de Gaulle Airport and onto the motorway. You squeeze Ben’s thigh affectionately. “Isn’t it a good thing that you’ve come to Paris with a ready-made guide, then?”

He smirks and arches an eyebrow suggestively. “Oh, I’m really looking forward to doing some, er, exploring with her.” 

“Is that so?” You move your hand ever so slightly up his thigh, smiling with satisfaction as Ben gasps a little and shifts in the seat. “I always like to try out new pleasures here, you know?”

A wiggle of your eyebrows has you both giggling, leaning against each other as the bus makes good progress towards the périphérique, the motorway that rings the city, and into Paris proper. You start to point out landmarks, locations, shifting into a stream of consciousness that spans history, personal memories, places to visit, and random observations. 

Ben smiles to himself as he watches and listens, delighting in your joy and excitement as you prepare to see your old friend - to walk her streets, listen to her voice, and write another chapter in your long love story.

The advantage of Parisian connections: your friend Sophie offered you her apartment in the 11th arrondissement for the duration of your stay, as she was away in the south of France. You meet her upstairs neighbour outside the narrow, early nineteenth-century building on a quiet street just off the rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine and collect Sophie’s key, taking note of the door codes. 

“Holy shit. Look at this place!”

Ben has carried the bags up the stairs - thankfully, Sophie’s flat is on the first floor - and followed you into the little apartment. You turn and grin when you notice how entranced he looks, staring up at the wooden beams in the tiny hallway, peeking out into the communal courtyard, tilting his head this way and that to check out the books on Sophie’s shelves. 

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” You pick up your suitcase and lead the way into the bedroom, sitting on the end of the bed as you take off your shoes and wriggle your toes happily.

“It’s incredible. Exactly what you might imagine a Parisian apartment to be.” He drops his own bags in the corner and joins you on the bed, flopping back onto the mattress and yawning.

You lie back and turn to face him, resting a hand on his stomach. “Let’s do some exploring. I know we’re tired, but I want to show you around, get some dinner, buy some wine…”

The featherlight touch of his fingers, working their way under your denim blouse and stroking the soft skin of your waist, sends delicious shivers through you.

“We could do some exploring here, right now…?” he asks, eyes twinkling and a smile on his lips. 

“You know how tempting that offer is, Benjamin, but let’s restore our energy first, hmmm?”

Dinner is Vietnamese food from a tiny restaurant just around the corner, a staple favourite from your time living in the city, followed by a walk around the neighbourhood and a stop at a nearby supermarket, to stock up on some essentials and a bottle of wine. As you climb the stairs to the apartment, the fatigue from a day of travel and the underlying, gnawing anxiety about your future starts to hit you. 

You should just say it to him. Ask him outright what he wants to happen.

You push the thought down, down, as deep as it will go as you settle on Sophie’s tiny sofa and watch Ben uncork the wine in the coin cuisine, the little kitchenette tucked into a corner of the living room. You spot a portable speaker tucked on one of the bookshelves and connect it to your phone, scrolling through your playlists until you find what you want. 

“Never let it be said that you don’t cultivate an atmosphere, Lyd,” he says, handing you a glass of the purple-red wine and joining you on the couch. “Let me guess: this is a Paris-specific playlist?”

You hide your face behind one hand and peek at him through your fingers as he laughs, leaning in to kiss your cheek as Serge Gainsbourg’s ‘La chanson de Prévert’ starts to play.

He rests his head on your shoulder as you listen to the song together. It’s a favourite of yours regardless, but tonight, with the man you love so deeply but still fear losing nestled in beside you, Gainbourg’s plaintive melody and lyrics about lost love are like a punch to the gut.

“Lyddie?”

Ben is sitting up, looking at you with concern. “You look so sad, all of a sudden - you okay?”

“It’s just the song, it’s so –” You halt yourself. No. Time to say it.

“I guess I’m just really feeling how close I am to the end of my time in Barrow, that’s all.”

His chocolate-brown eyes soften and he wraps you in a warm embrace. “Still got plenty of time, Lyddie.”

“And then?”

“And then…?”

“What happens? To us, I mean.”

He looks surprised at the question. “We’ll be okay, one way or the other. Right?”

But what does that mean?

You’re too tired to ask the question, you tell yourself. In truth, you’re too scared to - not because you fear his reaction, not at all. Rather, it’s because you fear that your concerns might upset him.

Ben’s head has barely hit the pillow before he’s sound asleep, one arm draped loosely around your waist. For you, though, sleep is elusive, arriving only as the dawn starts to break over the city of light. 

You wake, exhausted, to the aroma of fresh coffee brewing and the sound of Ben pottering around the apartment, humming the melody of “La chanson de Prévert” to himself. With a groan, you remember you’d planned to do some research today and force yourself out of bed.

“Bonjour, la belle Lyddie! Du café?” Ben waves a little espresso mug at you and you nod weakly. 

He is bright and cheerful as he moves around the kitchenette, pouring the coffee and joining you at the tiny dining table that acts as a kind of divider between the kitchen and the rest of the living area. 

“Did you sleep okay?”

You look up, and his face falls when he spies the telltale redness in your eyes. “I’m taking that as a no. What’s going on, Lyd?”

A fortifying sip of the strong coffee. You sit upright and look at him, studying his beautiful face. “Darling, I meant what I said last night. About how anxious I am, how scared of what comes next, the…uncertainty of it all.”

“But we know we’re serious about each other? We talked about it,” he replies, sipping his own coffee. “You know that. Don’t you?”

“I do. I really do. And we are, but -” you pause to gather your thoughts. “But that doesn’t mean there’s an answer for what happens when I have to go home, and that’s eating away at me.”

He looks at you kindly, but you can see the confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean, exactly, Lyd? Surely we can see if circumstances change over the summer, and if not then we do distance until stuff gets figured out. Right? Things are going to be just fine.”

It’s so tempting to smile and agree, but you can’t. You owe him honesty, as much as you want clarity. 

“Is that really what you want?”

“Distance? It’s not ideal, but if it comes to it I think we can make it work and - Lyd?”

You have closed your eyes, fearful of tears falling. 

Say it. Say it. Be honest with him.

“I - I don’t think I want a long-distance relationship.”

Ben makes no effort to hide his shock. “You don’t want a long-distance thing?” He shakes his head in amazement. “Even if that’s the only option for the moment?”

“I just want certainty, not constantly saying everything would be okay or we’d see what happens when we don’t know that things will be okay, or what’s going to happen. I want you, love. I want a life with you, you know that. Don’t you?”

“But you don’t want long-distance with me.” His brow furrows and his jaw ticks as he stares at the floor. 

“I don’t know, I mean I just want what we have now, I don’t know if I could cope with the implications of that kind of distance and -”

He exhales sharply, exasperated, and reaches for his light cotton jacket. “So it’s all or nothing. You would rather have no relationship than even try distance, is that it?”

Fury and sadness mingle and build in your chest. “Ben, that’s not what I fucking said.” Your hands fall to your sides, defeated. “I’m just - fuck, I’m not finding the words right now.” 

“Well, if you find them later let me know.” He opens the door of the apartment and pauses for a moment. “See you, Lyddie.”

You sit staring into space for a good half hour at your appointed desk in the print room at the Bibliothèque nationale, before you open the grey archive box of lithographs you’d called up for the day. 

The ritual of research is familiar and soothing, a useful distraction from the memory of the argument that morning. You set out your camera and prepare your customary scraps of paper inscribed with the call number of the collection, to make it easier for you to match up images with notes when you return to the materials at home. Wherever the hell “home” is supposed to be, now. 

Assess each print. Study it. Immerse yourself in the details before photographing it and writing up your observations on your laptop. Repeat over and over, add to your research materials and stave off the metaphorical wolves circling in your brain. 

Your stomach starts to rumble just before one o’clock. The garden courtyard outside the building that houses the print room is busy, with researchers and visitors taking an al fresco lunch and chatting over coffee. Salad consumed, you take your phone out of the transparent plastic briefcase you are required to use inside the library. 

No message from him. Nothing. 

You decide to make a call. She should be on her lunch now, too. 

“Lyd! How are you? How’s Pareeeeee?” Kate’s voice is cheery and comforting, and exactly what you needed to hear. 

“Hiya… um, can you talk for a few minutes?”

She immediately knows there’s something wrong and her tone shifts. “Of course, always… Lyd, what’s happened? Are you okay?”

Deep breaths. “Kate, I think I need to make a decision and I’m fucking terrified.”

Kate pauses, aware that she doesn’t need to ask you what this is about. “Okay. Talk to me. Let’s work through it.”

BEN: When do you think you’ll be finished for the day? We should talk. I’m so sorry about this morning x

LYDIA: Probably by 4.30 or so. Do you want me to come meet you?

BEN: I’ll come to you. You want food? It’s a nice day for a picnic dinner. 

LYDIA: It is. Dinner is your choice. Meet me at the rue Vivienne exit at 4.30 or so? x

BEN: You say that as if I know where that is… I’ll find it. See you soon, Lyddie. Love you. 

Ben Morales leans against the railings of the Bibliothèque nationale and looks at his watch. He’s early, so he meanders across the street and wanders into the Galerie Vivienne, admiring the fine detail of the mosaic floors and brass light fittings that adorn the nineteenth-century covered arcade. He pauses at an antiquarian bookstore and print shop, perusing the selection of vintage postcards displayed in wooden crates outside. 

He’s standing at the entrance to the arcade when he looks up and sees you coming through the gates of the library, somehow managing to carry a backpack, tote bag, and small cross-body handbag all at once. 

You don’t notice him at first, instead turning your head in both directions as you look for him. Ben’s heart soars when he sees you, in spite of the nagging ache he’s felt in the pit of his stomach ever since the argument you’d had that morning. 

He calls out to you from across the street, raising his hand in an enthusiastic wave, and a warm, delighted smile spreads across your face when you realise he’s there, waiting for you. He’s as impossibly handsome as ever in his navy blue shirt jacket, white tshirt, and jeans, tote bag slung over one shoulder. 

You keep Kate’s words from your lunchtime conversation in the forefront of your mind. “You know what you want, Lyd. You know what you need to do.”

“Sorry, I got delayed on the way out of the print room and then it always takes longer to pack up than I’d anticipated and then I thought I should pop to the bathroom before I left and then -”

Ben interrupts your explanation with a kiss and a hug. “I’m so sorry, Lyddie. I’m sorry about this morning.” He pulls away and holds out a small, flat brown paper bag. “A peace offering.”

The bag contains a selection of vintage postcards of Paris, postmarked in the early years of the twentieth century: Notre-Dame, photographed from the Left Bank; the place de la Bastille; the facade of the Bibliotheque nationale you’d just left. 

“Some of your favourite places, right?”

You reach for his hand and lean in for a kiss. “You know me so well. Thank you, my love, they’re beautiful.” You spot a larger brown paper carrier bag in his other hand. “Dinner?”

Ben smiles, holding out the bag for your approval. “I ended up getting a selection of stuff from one of the Asian takeout places near here. And I picked up a bottle of chilled white wine, and some paper cups. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect. Let’s go, Benjamin - dinner at the Palais-Royal awaits.”

“I have to admit, I did wonder when you said we were going to a royal palace. Didn’t seem very…Lyddie.”

Ben quirks an eyebrow in your direction. You giggle as you reach into the bag of takeout and retrieve boxes of rice, steamed buns, gyoza, and nems. 

“I mean, technically it was a royal residence. But the gardens - where we are now - were public, as were the arcades and shops.” You set the boxes of food on a green metal park chair, serving as a makeshift table in front of your bench. “And it was an important location in the revolutionary period, so…”

He grins and opens the bottle of wine. “Ah! There it is. That’s my Lyd.”

His Lyd. Affection surges in your chest, and you place a hand on Ben’s knee, giving it a light squeeze as he pours some of the white wine into a paper cup and hands it to you.

He raises his own cup in your direction. “To my clever, revolutionary girl.”

You swap stories about your respective days as you dig into the food: Ben describing his informal solo tour of literary locations on the Left Bank, you talking through your finds in the print room. He shows you photos he took of Richard Wright’s apartment building, of the original site of Sylvia Beach’s Shakespeare and Company, and a selfie of himself looking completely perplexed at the plaque on the rue du Cardinal-Lemoine that refers to James Joyce as a “British writer of Irish origin.”

You burst out laughing at that one. “I’m so glad you found that. It annoys me every time I see it.”

“I sent it to Evan. He was not impressed.” He slips his phone back into his pocket and reaches for another spring roll. “And then I went and sat in the Luxembourg Gardens for a bit, worked over a little more of the play, thought about Beckett in Paris, watched the world go by. I remembered you said it was one of your favourite places to just sit and think.” 

He smiles softly, almost shyly, at you, and with a pang you remember that some serious conversation lies ahead, no matter how tempting it is to sit here forever in the Palais-Royal, eating your picnic dinner and drinking your wine surrounded by the ghosts of writers and lovers and revolutionaries long past. 

Lemon-scented wipes remove the residual traces of nems and dipping sauces from your fingers, and Ben stacks the empty food containers in the brown paper bag before topping up your paper cup of wine. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around you to hold you close. 

He sips his wine and takes a deep breath. “I wanted to talk about earlier.” 

You raise your head, turn to him, and nod. He rests a hand on your thigh, tracing circles with his index finger on your leg. 

“I’m sorry if it ever felt like I was dismissing your worries, Lydia. I - well, I guess I was avoiding the issue. Like if I kept saying things would work out, they’d just… work out.”

You smile gently and reach for his hand. “Without having to make the hard call.”

He squeezes your hand and nods. “Exactly. But I did a lot of thinking about that today. About the future, about what I want - what you want.” He gives you a nervous glance.

“You were right, Lyd, long-distance couldn’t give us…I don’t want long-distance with you, either. I couldn’t, Lyd. I want what you said you want - a life, us, together. Like now.” He caresses your cheek with his thumb. “I can’t imagine anything else.”

You bring your hand to rest on his and close your eyes, feeling tears prickling against your eyelids. 

He takes a deep breath. “Lyd, look at me.” Your eyes meet his, dark and warm and serious all at once. “Lyd, I - I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That’s all I want, and - fuck, I think I’ve known I wanted that for a while now.”

You open your mouth to respond and he shakes his head gently. “Lyddie - Lydia - I want to be with you, no matter what it takes.” Another deep breath. “And that’s why - if you want, of course, only if you want - I’ll move back with you at the end of the year. I’ve got some job alerts set up, I’ll find something, you know? I - I just want to be with you.”

“You can’t give up your whole life, darling.” Your voice is quiet as you take in the significance of what he’s telling you, what he’s offering. To his astonishment, you burst out laughing.

“What’s funny, Lyd?”

“I did a lot of thinking today, too. You know you’re all I want, don’t you?” You look at him expectantly, and he nods. “And I was going to tell you that - if you wanted - I would try to stay in the US, so that I could be with you. So that we could make a life together, plan our future.” You turn to him and grin. “But now it seems we’re still going to be on opposite sides of the pond, just with swapped continents.”

Laughter rises from Ben’s chest, emerging as a bright, wide smile and eyes crinkling with delight. He cups your face with his hands and kisses you, over and over, before pulling away abruptly. 

“Wait. You said I couldn’t give up my life, but you want to give up yours? And you know Barrow doesn’t do partner or spousal hires…”

“I mean, it wouldn’t be giving up my life. It would be living the life I want to live, with the man I adore. That’s better, no?” You reach over to brush an errant curl off his forehead. “Anyway, I can look for a position within commuting distance, right? I’d rather that than feel I had got a job I didn’t really deserve.”

He blushes slightly and looks at you from under his lashes. “Even so. I meant it, I would follow you anywhere. I’ll go wherever you want me to be, wherever you want to be.”

“Okay. How about this?” You sit up a little straighter, hands resting on his. “We’re clearly both prepared to move. So…we both start looking for jobs, you near my place and me around Barrow, and whoever gets an appointment first - that’s where we go.”

Ben looks into the middle distance and nods, turning over the proposal in his head. “That sounds like a plan, baby.” 

“Then it’s a deal?”

He grins and kisses you softly. “It’s a deal.”

The evening is bright and warm as you meander hand in hand through the narrow streets of the Marais, heading east, homeward bound. 

You spot a buzzy corner café and nudge Ben. “How about a drink, darling? Something bubbly, maybe?”

He smiles, and you know his eyes are sparkling behind his sunglasses as he squeezes your hand and follows your lead towards one of the small round tables arranged outside the café. The server is typically Parisian: efficient, polite but not overly familiar, and they take your order and return promptly with two glasses of champagne and little dishes of olives and mixed nuts. 

“À nous deux, Paris!” Ben clinks his glass to yours and you giggle as the first sip sends bubbles bursting on your tongue. 

“Quoting Balzac in the original French?! Where were you all my life, Benjamin?”

He shrugs and smiles to himself. “Could ask you the same question.”

Long, thick fingers begin to rub circles on the flesh of your thigh, feeling the heat of your skin through the light fabric of the button down sky blue shirt dress you’re wearing. You echo the gesture, tracing patterns on the back of his hand, and your expression becomes more serious, more intense, your voice quieter.

“I love you, Ben.” 

He squeezes your thigh gently. “I love you, Lyd.” 

Sipping champagne and nibbling on the snacks, you watch the world go by, content and cosy in the little bubble that is just you and him. You’re checking your appearance in the bathroom mirror when a realisation sweeps through you. Your eyes widen, mouth forming into a little “o” before stretching into a happy smile as you ascend the stairs from the basement to the main café and rejoin Ben at the table.

“So something occurred to me.”

He chases the last olive around the dish with a cocktail stick. “Mmmmm?”

“We’re doing this, aren’t we? We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together. That’s what we’ve said we want. Right? I didn’t imagine that?”

Ben lifts his head, puts down the cocktail stick, and looks into your eyes with a bemused smile on his face. “No, you didn’t. And yes, we are.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles broadly. “And isn’t it fucking wonderful?”

You nod excitedly and a surge of laughter erupts from both of you, quietened only by a warm, passionate kiss. You break away and run your fingers through the messy strands of hair around his forehead.

“I know people might think it’s soon, love. But… it’s not. I know.”

“I know too, Lyddie. When you know, you know.” He reaches for your hand and brings it to his lips. “And to be honest, I don’t think anyone who knows us will think it’s too soon.”

The server returns to take the empty glasses and dishes. “Autre chose?” [Something else?]

Ben winks at you mischievously and orders two more glasses of champagne. 

The walk back to the apartment should have taken about twenty minutes. Or at least, it would have had you not both been tipsy, incredibly happy, and unable to keep your hands off each other. 

It takes just under an hour for you to get from the Marais back into the heart of the faubourg Saint-Antoine, stopping here and there along the way to indulge in some making out in quiet side streets and passageways. 

“I’m so glad there’s only one flight of stairs,” you hiss theatrically, Ben trailing a hand over your ass as you reach the landing and the door to the flat. 

Once inside, you pull him tight to you and move swiftly in the direction of the small bedroom, fingers already hooked inside the waistband of his jeans as he holds your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, tongues sweeping over each other and lips pressed together so hard you swear they’ll be bruised by morning.

“Sit on the end of the bed, baby.” He nods and follows your instructions, undoing his jeans as he watches you standing before him. 

You start to unbutton your dress, keeping your eyes on him as you ease it off and let it fall to the floor. Ben’s eyes roam slowly over you, mouth falling open slightly as he takes in the floral print of your panties, the light blue lace of your bra, the softness and curves of your body. 

You move closer to him, standing between his legs as he wraps his arms around your lower back and buries his face against your breasts while you languidly trail your fingers through his hair. 

You pull back and look at him, immediately giggling. He still has his glasses on, and those coffee-brown eyes are half-hidden behind a fog on the lenses. 

“Let’s take these off, shall we, Professor Morales?”

The combination of champagne and a decision about your future together has made you joyful, more confident - and more direct. 

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that, baby?” 

Ben raises his eyebrows and his ears flush pink. “I don’t really think…uh…”

You kiss him, his hands moving to grab the flesh of your ass and pull you tight to his body. 

“I think you’re hot as fuck, Ben Morales, and I’m going to tell you. And show you.” You wrap your arms around his neck and encourage him to move backwards a little, so that you can straddle him. “Lemme show you how gorgeous you are to me, my love. Hmmm?”

He grins, nods, and moans as his mouth passes over the velvet skin of your heavy tits. You help him out of his white T-shirt, and pause to take in the sight of him: your thighs framing his hips and waist, his hands resting on them; his tummy, somehow both broad and solid and yet soft, pressed deliciously against your own belly; his beautiful face, eyes filled with desire, and mouth begging to devour and be devoured. 

The temptation is too strong, your hands moving to caress his face as your lips meet his again. You keep your forehead pressed to his as you break the kiss and whisper to him, murmuring about how his dark gaze can make you ache for him, what it feels like to have his lips pressed to your body. 

Your hands move slowly across his shoulders and down his back, feeling the warmth of his golden skin, the strength underneath the surface. “This beautiful body, baby,” you murmur, placing tiny kisses to his collarbone. “When you’re above me, fucking me, or about to, and I look up and see you so fucking broad and solid…”

His breathing hitches as your mouth works its way down his chest and towards his tummy, lips and tongue picking out those little patches of freckles that you love so much, teeth sometimes scraping lightly over his warm, solid middle as you carefully move your body off his and onto the floor between his legs.

“You know how fucking sexy this tummy is, baby. Told you the first night we were together.” He looks sceptical and your hands roam over the warm softness of his skin, your cunt positively aching with need at the sensation. 

“I’m serious, Ben. It’s so fucking hot, the way your body looks, the feeling of your tummy against mine…” You whine as you roll your hips and clench your thighs, and he sits up slightly to drag down his jeans and underwear, a hand wrapping around his cock as he seeks some relief of his own. 

You reach for his other hand, holding it gently as you suck each finger in turn. “I love these hands, baby.” You kiss his palm and he gasps. “I love the sight of them, the feeling of them on me, in me, the things they do to me.”

His eyes are wide and dark with lust and adoration. “Fucking hell, Lyd, you’re incredible.”

And then your fingers join his, working the base of his cock and making Ben gasp with sheer pleasure. He moves his hands up to grope and caress your breasts, long fingers slipping under the lace of your bra to play with your nipples. 

“Touch yourself,” he hisses, hands full as he massages the soft weight of your tits. You obey the instruction, keeping your eyes locked on him as you bring one hand to part your soaking folds while the other continues to jerk him off. 

Ben watches for a moment as you rub small, firm circles over the aching bundle of nerves while pleasuring him simultaneously. “Fuck, baby, this is so fucking hot. You’re so good to me.”

You’re on your knees, now, and your mouth is actually watering at the sight before you. “Can I suck your cock, baby?”

He grunts his consent. “This…” You flick your tongue over the tip. “This is fucking gorgeous.” 

“Please, Lyd.” You look up at him and he whines a little, completely turned on by the sight of you between his legs, one hand now caressing the firm muscles of his calf and the other holding his cock in place. You oblige, expertly trailing your tongue along his full length before beginning to take him, bit by bit, inside your wet mouth. 

Ben cries out your name as you continue your ministrations, looking down at you with his eyes blown wide. “I‘ll come if you keep going, baby,” he hisses. “Wanna fuck you, please. Please. Need you.”

You swirl your tongue around the tip one last time before releasing him, bringing your hands to rest again on his legs, fingers massaging the muscles of his thighs as you hum in satisfaction. 

“C’mon, Lyddie.” He gestures with his head and you stand. He pulls you to him with one hand, palm and fingers splayed across the small of your back as he tugs down your panties with the other. Two thick fingers slide into you with ease, and his eyebrows quirk with surprise.

“You’re fucking soaking?” 

The tone of his voice makes you laugh, and he chuckles against the warm softness of your belly before kissing it, over and over, as your fingers wind through his curls. 

“I told you, love, you’re so fucking hot. Don’t even have to touch me and I’m ready for you.”

Ben grins wickedly as you push him back onto the bed and straddle him again, reaching down and stroking his cock a couple of times before you ease him into you and sink down, moaning loudly as he stretches you, fills you, takes you. You’ve had each other so many times now, and yet the sensation of him inside you remains new and thrilling. 

You start to move, shifting and rolling your hips in a careful, deliberate rhythm that has the two of you sighing and gasping with deep, delicious pleasure. You lean forward to come closer to him, desperate for his touch, for the warmth of his chest against yours. He eases down the straps of your bra a little and caresses your tits as he starts to fuck up into you, meeting your movements. 

He lifts his head up, greedily seeking your lips. His hands trace the curve of your back down to your hips and ass as he watches your bodies moving together, and he smiles wistfully as he brings a finger to your clit. “God, I love fucking you, Lyd.”

You giggle and cry out at his touch, riding him harder still as you edge closer to coming. His finger draws firm, tight circles over the swollen bud, tracing the familiar path he has carved out in you so many times. “Fuck me, baby - gonna come, don’t fucking stop - you gonna come?”

He closes his eyes tightly as the fingers of his other hand press hard into your thigh, breath hitching and voice raw. “Mmmmhmm. I’m so fucking close. Hold on, can you?”

You nod and try to temporarily quell the orgasm that’s been building in you since you got him home, Ben slowing his finger’s steady movements over your soaking clit.

And then the pace increases again, and you’re there, and he’s there. Together. 

Morning announces itself with a rustle of paper and a delicious, buttery aroma. Eyes blinking open, you become conscious of Ben’s soft lips on the nape of your neck - and aware that the enticing smell is right under your nose. 

“Bonjour, Lyd.” Ben is holding an open paper bag just under your nose. “Croissant?”

You turn to face him properly and sit up in bed beside him. “Hi, darling. How long are you up?”

He reaches into the bag and takes out a croissant, before placing it on a plate and handing it to you. “Not that long. You looked so beautiful and content, I didn’t want to wake you.”

The flaky, buttery pastry melts in your mouth as you sigh with pleasure. “Jesus fucking Christ. Nothing compares.”

Ben stops just as he’s about to bite into his own croissant, throwing you a cheeky glance. “Nothing? Nothing compares? You’re sure about that?”

You rest your head on his shoulder, the cotton of his long sleeved T-shirt soft and comforting against your face. 

“Nothing compares… in the world of baked goods.”

 He nods, satisfied, and takes a mouthful of the golden viennoiserie. 

“Oh, fuck. Maybe you’re right, Lyd.”

You giggle. “Thanks for these, love. You’re so kind.”

Ben shakes his head. “As if you wouldn’t have done the same.” He chews thoughtfully on the pastry. “Anyway, I feel like I still need to make it up to you. Yesterday morning, I mean.”

“You apologised, love, and we sorted things out. It’s fine.”

He shrugs. “I just feel bad. I shouldn’t have made you feel bad. Should have known by now that you struggle with this kind of uncertainty.” Ben reaches for your left hand, bringing it to his lips. “I’m sorry, Lyd.”

“Thank you, Ben. But we’re fine. I mean it. That’s what makes a relationship work, isn’t it? Learning about each other and knowing when we need to learn or listen more.”

He nods. “Exactly. And that’s why I’m so excited to spend the rest of my life with you. No matter where that is.”

The rest of the week is spent partly in research libraries, at least in your case, but mostly in the streets and cafés and galleries and museums of the city you love so much with the man you adore. 

You watch with quiet joy as he sees Manet’s Olympia in real life for the first time, shaking his head in admiration and awe as he takes in the painting. He steps back and folds his arms. 

“She’s really something.”

“She sure is. I’d be that confident too, if I was as gorgeous as her.”

He arches an eyebrow and looks at you. “You are. Much more so.” 

You huff a laugh as you link his arm and wander off to see Courbet’s Burial at Ornans. “You want me to pose like one of Manet’s French girls, Ben?”

“Wouldn’t say no, Lyd.”

At Harry’s New York Bar, the legendary cocktail bar near the Opéra, you cuddle up in a cosy corner of the piano lounge in the basement, and drink French 75 cocktails while the resident pianist plays Gershwin late into the night. You follow your own tailor-made walking tours, spotting literary landmarks and movie locations. A night in a Saint-Germain bar ends with a visit to the late-night bookstore L’Écume des Pages (and an inevitable bag full of newly-purchased books). Ben oohs and aahs over the bouquinistes’ boxes that line the walls overlooking the Seine, unable to resist a quick perusal of their selection of rare books and vintage magazines. You share a Paris-Brest pastry from Angelina, moaning appreciatively as you devour the delicious dessert. Together, you drink coffee and sip wine and talk and laugh and people-watch to your heart’s content. 

You could never tire of Paris. Even so, Ben’s wide-eyed excitement and enthusiasm makes everything new: the landmarks, the streetscapes, the food, the drink, the sounds and smells.

And you. He has made you new, too.

You feel it in the way he looks at you when you wave your hands and wax lyrical about god knows what painting or book or historical event. It’s in the reassuring weight of his arm around your shoulders as you wander through the narrow back streets, feeling like you’re ten feet tall. It’s there in the hundreds of little opportunities he finds during each day to touch you: the small of your back as you enter a building, the back of your hand as you sit together on the Métro, the side of your mouth as he brushes away an errant croissant flake. 

It is in the moments when you stop on the street and pull him to you for a kiss, unconcerned by the Parisians tut-tutting as they have to walk around the two of you. It’s in the moans he pulls from you, and you from him, when you are tangled in bedsheets at night, or in the morning, or even - after a lunchtime trip to the movies that escalated into some heated back-row kisses - in the middle of the afternoon, languidly stretched out naked for him on the bed. 

Just like one of Manet’s French girls, he joked.

Most of all, it’s there in the light that always seems to be shining in your eyes whenever you look at him, knowing that he is yours and you his. 

“You’re a tolerant man, Ben Morales,” you say with a chuckle as you walk through the imposing gates of Père Lachaise cemetery one bright morning. “Willing to hang out in Parisian cemeteries with me as I fangirl over the tombs of people no one has cared about for a hundred years or more.”

Ben looks at the list of names on the cemetery map and smiles at you, squinting slightly behind his sunglasses. “I rather like your Gothic side, Lyddie. And I appreciate this too, you know - I want to find Balzac and Proust’s tombs, while we’re here.” He drapes an arm across your shoulders as you climb steadily up one of the winding paths leading through the oldest part of the cemetery, stopping here and there to look at some of the more unusual tombs and memorials. 

There’s a certain part of Père Lachaise, its highest point, where you can look out and see the city unfolding below. You lead him there and sit on a bench, keen for him to take in the view. Other visitors and tourists meander past with their maps, chatting in various languages about Oscar Wilde and Jim Morrison or any number of the luminaries whose remains lie alongside those of many more ordinary Parisians in this leafy enclave. 

And then it’s just the two of you, side by side, contemplative. Little birds chirp and chatter in the trees, their song a moment of peaceful stillness in the bustling city. 

Paris has a tendency to look particularly magical when you’re entering into the final hours of a visit. This evening, the fading spring sunlight cuts a path along the street below, gleaming off the windows and shop signs that line the ancient thoroughfare.

“My heart always breaks a little when I have to leave.”

Ben finishes combing back his hair, still damp from the shower and curls starting to form at the nape of his neck. He turns from the mirror just inside the door of the apartment, adjusting the collar of his white shirt. 

“This isn’t the last time, Lyddie. Not for you, not for us.”

You nod sadly, picking up your purse and slipping into a pair of dark red patent ballet flats. “I know. I’ve been telling myself that for twenty-odd years, but it never gets easier. Stupid, huh.”

He shakes his head as he reaches for your hand. “Not stupid. You love this place, and twenty-odd years is a long time to be in love.” He looks you up and down admiringly. “You’re all fancy.”

You cock your hip and strike a pose as Ben laughs. “I like to dress up for my long-term lover, the city of Paris, Monsieur Morales. Anyway, you’re all fancy too.”

“Not like you, I’m not. You look…” He exhales as he takes you in. “You look like you walked out of a perfect French movie.”

Even you have to admit he’s got a point. Sure, the outfit had been a bit of a splurge, a treat to yourself from the BHV department store. But a classic, knee-length little black dress would never go out of style. At least, that’s how you justified it. That, and the fact that it hugged your body just so, working wonders with your curves, somehow narrowing your middle and accentuating your tits and hips in a manner that was impossibly elegant and incredibly sexy. It was a marvel. 

For once, you got a flash of what Ben always told you he saw when he looked at you. It made for a pleasant change.

This evening you have accessorised with a vintage brooch and chunky brass earrings, the gold necklace Ben gave you for Valentine’s Day a permanent fixture around your neck. The spring evening is warm enough for you to get away with a dark red pashmina shawl in lieu of a jacket, though you worried bare legs might be a step too far and decided not to forego your black hold-up fishnet stockings.

Ben slips into his olive green suit jacket and you squeeze his hand. “Thank you, my love. You look beautiful, too.” 

He does. But then, he always does: his beauty is easy, natural, effortless; as obvious to you when he’s bleary-eyed and bed-headed in his old t-shirts and pyjama bottoms as it is now, with him suited and booted and looking every inch the debonair Parisian intellectual in his clear-framed glasses.

For an instant you wish you could travel back to your broken-hearted self all those years before, to tell her that a better day would come, that real love would find you when and where you least expected it, and that it would arrive in the form of a man as beautiful on the inside as he is on the outside.

Most people would say the two of you are a little overdressed for your dinner destination. But then, you aren’t most people.

You catch a glimpse of the two of you reflected in a shop window as you walk along boulevard Henri IV. You, black dress and red accessories; Ben, green suit with his top shirt buttons undone, hair combed back and starting to form soft waves a little as it dries. The fact that you are both wearing sunglasses only enhances the sense of slightly retro European chic. 

“Look at us. Not bad, hmmm?” 

Ben stops, puts down the wicker basket he’s carrying, and winds his arms around your waist, kissing the side of your neck. “Perfect.”

You stroll past a little park near the river, pointing out a reconstructed bit of the Bastille to him, and wander in the direction of the Pont Marie and onto the Île Saint-Louis. It’s a little out of the way for where you’re going, but you have a good reason. He asked you a couple of days ago what your favourite view of the city was, and you intend to show him. 

The evening sky is streaked with a palette of pale blues, pinks, oranges and reds as you reach the Pont de la Tournelle and stop to lean on the parapet of the bridge. 

“This is it.”

He stands beside you and rests his hands on the parapet, following your gaze westwards along the river, taking in the silhouette of Notre-Dame - still obscured by scaffolding - painted against the vibrant canvas of the sunset, and the curve of the quaysides as the Seine splits around the Île de la Cité. 

“This is my spot. When I stand here I feel as though I could wrap my arms around the city and as though it wraps its arms around me.” You look at Ben, a little embarrassed. “Sorry. That’s a bit weird, I know. I am aware that it is a city and I cannot hug it, please don’t run away.”

He looks at you with affectionate bemusement. “You know how beautiful that is, to have those feelings and be able to articulate them like that?” He reaches for your hand. “It isn’t weird. It’s you, and it’s wonderful.”

You rest your head on his shoulder and squeeze his hand. “The first time I came to Paris after…everything, I came here the first night. I stood here and I looked at the cathedral and the city.” You pause as the memory resurfaces. “And then I had a massive cry. See? Weird.”

Ben shakes his head and chuckles, pulling you close to him. “Not weird. Catharsis.”

“I guess it was. I was still here. Notre-Dame was still here. Paris was still here. It gave me a sense of hope, I think, for the first time. Like, I knew things would get better.”

“I’m so fucking proud of you, you know?” He kisses your forehead and leans in to murmur, cheekily, in your ear: “So did things get better?”

You wrap your arm around his waist, slipping it under his jacket so you can feel the strong muscles of his back under his shirt. “Eh, I guess you could say that.”

Dinner is simple: a baguette, a selection of cheeses and charcuterie, and a bottle of champagne. But you’ve made the effort to bring proper glasses and plates from the apartment, and you can’t fault the location: watching the river from the Quai Saint-Bernard on the left bank, waving at the people on the big tourist boats - the bateaux-mouches - as they pass. 

“Hell of a view,” Ben muses in between mouthfuls of baguette and Brillat-Savarin cheese. 

You gaze across the river at the Île Saint-Louis and smile contentedly. “It is perfection.”

He chuckles and leans in to kiss you. “I was talking about you. But Paris isn’t too bad, either.”

He looks back at the river, a smile playing on his lips, and you take a moment to admire a perfect view of your own: Ben’s handsome face in profile, hair moving gently in the breeze, the light tan he had acquired after a week of wandering in Parisian spring sunshine complementing the patches of grey-white hair at the hinge of his jaw. 

You can’t help but marvel a little at how fucking gorgeous he is. Well done, Lyd. In that instant, as you take him in, you concentrate on the wonderful feeling of calm and safety that suffuses your body when you’re with him. 

You’d only realised after the abrupt end of your last relationship that you’d spent a decade and a half walking on eggshells, constantly anxious and never wholly comfortable - even with someone who claimed to love you. You feared suggesting the simplest thing: a movie, a dinner, a holiday, lest it prompt a negative reaction or criticism.

With Ben, though? Even with the ongoing uncertainty about where, exactly, your future would be, you had never felt anything other than safe. With a clearer path ahead agreed together, the residual anxiety faded, too. 

It was a new and marvellous feeling. 

As the evening draws in, a little group of musicians set up nearby on the quay, accompanied by a cluster of couples who immediately began to dance to the band. Ben turns and smiles at the spectacle.

“They do this as soon as the weather gets warm here,” you explain, smiling widely as the dancers move around an open area on the quayside. “Sometimes it’s French classics, sometimes American big band, sometimes Latin, sometimes a more contemporary mix, like tonight.”

Ben stands up, dusts off his pants, picks up the picnic basket and extends his hand to you. 

“Would you like to dance, Lyddie?”

How can you refuse, when he’s looking like that and asking you in that voice and smiling at you with such love and affection? 

“I’m not good at this sort of thing, Ben, I warn you.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately. “Bullshit. Now: dance with me, Lyd.”

You get to your feet and he leads you in the direction of the makeshift dancefloor, leaving the picnic basket to one side as he brings you into a dance hold and begins to move, pulling you close to his body as the band and its female lead singer begin a cover of Mitski’s “My Love Mine All Mine”.

The rest of the city falls away as you dance with him, nuzzling against his neck as his hips sway gently, rhythmically against you in time to the slower tempo of the music. Ben’s lips press softly to the top of your head, and you hum in absolute contentment. 

“I love this song, you know.”

He chuckles. “I do. You sing it very beautifully in the shower, sometimes.”

“I doubt it’s beautiful.”

“Trust me. It’s beautiful.”

You nestle against him and sing along, joining in with the lyric that always made you think of him, of how he had broken through your sturdy defences, smoothing and healing the jagged, broken pieces of your soul: “My baby, here on earth/Showed me what my heart was worth”. 

You sing the words quietly against his chest, feeling the vibrations from your voice meeting the rhythm of his heartbeat in a curious music made of two lovers. As the song draws to a close, Ben tenderly lifts your chin and kisses you, enveloping you in those strong arms. Cologne, coffee, bread, paper, something that is just his: his scent, the scent of love and safety.

His big hands skim appreciatively over your figure in the new black dress as he inhales your own perfume, nose buried in the crook of your neck. “Delicious, gorgeous girl,” he murmurs against your velvet skin. “You look incredible tonight, you know?”

Ben pulls your body even tighter to his and you whine softly, the press of his broad form to yours enough to send a rush of wetness to your core. 

“I think we need to get back to the apartment, my love.”

Ben sits at the end of the bed, wearing his shirt and boxers, watching as you take off your jewellery in front of the bedroom mirror. There’s something fascinating about the ritual: how you take out your earrings and put them in their box; the way you tilt your head forward as you remove your necklace.

He still can’t believe it, sometimes, the kind of love he has with you. He’s been desperate to get you home ever since you danced close and slow on the riverbank. That fucking black dress. Driving him slowly crazy all night, every time he looked at you. It’s the way it hugs your hips, accentuates the ample, full curves of your tits, and reveals just enough of your skin to make him want to ease it off your soft, welcoming body. 

His cock twitches at the thought. 

He stands up and crosses the floor, standing behind you. His hands gently caress you as you smile at the reflection of the two of you in the mirror.

“I love this.”

Ben kisses the top of your arm. “I love this, too.”

His lips find their way along the line of your shoulder until they reach the crook of your neck. A little tug to the zipper of the dress and his mouth moves downwards, kissing and sucking at the back of your neck, hands roaming over your body and grabbing handfuls of you as he goes.

He’s pressed against your back, murmuring your name. The extent of his desire is already very much in evidence.

“Fuck, Lyddie.” His breath is warm and urgent against your neck.

“Mmmm?”

“I’ve wanted to take this off since the minute I saw you in it.”

You chuckle. “Looks that bad, huh?”

Lips still on your neck, he caresses your breasts as he shakes his head. “Looks too good on you.”

Ben licks a stripe up the side of your neck and you whine with pleasure, closing your eyes and reaching to caress his face.

“Can I take it off, my love?” His voice is lower, smokier.

You nod, locking your eyes on his. A frisson of excitement courses through your body as Ben eases down the rest of the zipper and eases you out of your little black dress, letting it pool at your feet. 

“Oh, fuck me. These new?”

When you bought the dress, you’d bought new lingerie, too. A bra in caramel and black lace whose delicacy belied its incredible construction, supporting your breasts perfectly. Matching underwear, high-waisted and full but completely sheer, made out of the same black lace that trimmed your bra.

And of course: the stockings.

You nod and close your eyes, trying to avoid seeing yourself in the mirror. You looked alright in the dress, but you still can’t quite face the body underneath it. Ben’s breath ghosts across your shoulder blades as he fondles your tits and kisses the top of your spine. 

“Open your eyes, Lyd.”

You hesitate.

“Lyd. Open your eyes.”

You obey. But you keep your gaze fixed on him, afraid of your own reflection, of a body that you still cannot believe anyone like him would ever really want. 

“Lyddie, please look.” Ben’s voice is firm but pleading. “Look at your beautiful face. Look at this gorgeous, sexy body.” 

He trails a finger along the contours of your breasts, tracing the lace trim of the bra. He brings his hands to your waist, to your hips, pulling you back against him ever so slightly so that you can feel how hard he is. 

You don’t think you’ll ever love your body. But, watching Ben drinking you in with his eyes, running his fingers over the black Parisian lace that clings to the most sensitive and sensual parts of you, you understand that you love the way he loves your body.

“This is what you do to me, Lyd, and I will tell you every day for the rest of our lives that you are the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” You turn to face him, his hands cupping your face as he kisses you deeply. 

He breaks away and looks into your eyes, dark irises searching yours. There’s a vulnerability there, a hint of doubt, lingering in spite of his words. 

“What is it, Lyd?”

You shrug, fingers lightly caressing the curls and waves that cluster around his ears. “I love that you think I’m beautiful. I… still don’t know if I ever will.”

He kisses you again, softer this time. “Can I at least try to convince you? Show you?”

You smile against his lips and wrap your arms around his neck. “I’d like that. Could… could you, like, take charge? For tonight?”

He quirks an eyebrow and returns your kiss, humming against your mouth. “Take charge?”

You feel embarrassment rising in your throat. You’d never really felt able to just ask for what you needed like this before. Old habits die hard.

“Ben, I never felt safe enough to ask a partner to take the lead like this…not before you.”

His expression softens. “I’d give you anything, Lyd. Anything you want.” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to him, chin resting on your shoulder. “And I feel safe with you, too.”

You tilt your head to kiss him. “So…?”

“So, I’m going to take charge and show you exactly how fucking beautiful you are, how sexy you are, how fucking happy I am that I get to be with you.” He pauses to kiss you again. “And if I have to, like I said - I’ll do this every day for the rest of time, if necessary, until you see what a perfect goddess you are.”

Another, deeper kiss; the sensation of his broad hands on the soft skin of your tits and belly, pulling you tight to him, the press of his erection against you as he guides you to lean back against the wall and slips his fingers under the crotch of your panties, parting your folds and working your clit and pussy until you’re panting with desire and need. 

For a moment, you think he’s going to fuck you. But then slowly, steadily, Ben sinks to the ground in front of you, mouth and teeth and tongue finding the softest, most yielding parts of your body as he works his way to his knees. 

Ben looks up at you, eyes glittering with lust and adoration. He is a supplicant before you, ready to worship, to seek and give a pleasure as sacred as it is profane. He venerates your body with his mouth. His tongue traces the outline of your hips, his lips kiss the softness of your lower belly, his teeth scrape across the thick flesh of your upper thighs. He tugs the panties down completely, parting your legs and helping you out of the garment. 

“I want you to keep the stockings on, okay?”

You nod your assent. Those perfect dark eyes find yours, a flash of mischief crossing his gaze as he gently pushes a finger inside you before placing both hands firmly on your hips, pressing into your flesh. 

And then he tilts his head, just so, and you cry out as he brings his lips to your wet pussy, mouth and tongue working your entrance as his nose rubs with precision against your clit. You buck slightly against him but he holds you in place, grunting and groaning with pleasure as he goes down on you. The warmth of his breath against your core makes your cunt clench around nothing, desperate for him.

You wind your fingers through the soft waves of his hair, holding him in position and throwing your head back as you revel in every lap of his tongue, every brush of his beard against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, every nudge of that beautiful nose against your clit. He’s eating you out like you’re his last meal, your moans and writhing body seemingly only serving to spur him on. 

Even so, Ben senses that you’re holding back. The position is incredible, the sight of him, the sound of him, the feel of him making you want to come harder than you’ve ever done before. But you worry about whether your legs will give way - whether you’ll hurt him if you fall forward. 

“I’ve got you, Lyd,” he murmurs, face still buried between your thighs. “Let go. I’ve got you. You’re so close. Come for me. Want you to come like this.”

With his fingers fucking you and his lips sucking and licking at your clit, your body yields and you cry out as you come against his face. 

He stays on his knees as you ride out the orgasm, thumbs rubbing a gentle circle against your hips, before scrambling to his feet and wrapping you in his strong arms. Your legs are still trembling as you lean in and kiss him like your lives depend on it, tasting yourself on his lips. He manoeuvres you to the bed, laying you down with the utmost care. 

You look up at him as he shifts into position above you, the low light catching the traces of your release that glisten across his face and his beautiful eyes flitting greedily over your face and body. You reach up to unbutton his shirt and he shucks off his undervest. An electrical current of desire courses through you as you rake your hands over his broad shoulders and down to that soft tummy you love so much. His eyes are warm and wanting: your darling, your lover, your partner. You are safe in his hands, and you are ready to give yourself entirely to him.  

A little smile quirks at his mouth as he lies down beside you, turning on his side and trailing his long fingers across the velvet skin of your tits, still enclosed in the delicate lace of your bra. 

“Do you know how much I want you, Lyd?” he murmurs, mouth working hot, needy kisses across your breasts. 

“Tell me.”

“Want you all the time.” You can feel his cock hard against you. “Want to have all of you, want to touch and kiss and fuck every last inch of you. I’m going to use my mouth on you now, baby, okay?”

He nips and sucks at the soft flesh of your belly as you moan, pussy aching for him. “And the more I have you, the more I want you.” He finds your soaking folds again and drags two fingers through the slick, bringing them to your lips so you can suck them clean. “I love you. And I can’t get enough of you.”

You let out a half-laugh, half-groan as he pulls you to him and quickly takes off your bra, mouth finding your breasts and tongue swirling over your nipples. You slip a hand between the two of you, tugging down his boxer briefs and wrapping your fingers around his cock as you stroke him, feeling him becoming fully hard under your careful touch.

“Do you think you have another in you, my love?” 

You nod. 

“Use your words, Lyd.”

“Yes. I think so…fuck, yes sir.”

He groans loudly against you and slips his fingers back through your soaking folds, chuckling a little at the whine of pleasure you let out as his warm breath ghosts against your ear. “Fucking hell, Lyd. You look so fucking beautiful. Such a beautiful woman.” He hooks his fingers against the perfect spot inside you and you buck against him, hand still working his dick. “And such a pretty pussy, so tight and so wet for me.”

He eases you into a different position, your back against his chest as his erection nudges against you. First his hands, then - with a shuffle down the bed - his mouth caresses the plump flesh of your ass, lips and teeth scraping over the sensitive skin as you whimper. He shifts your leg up and nestles himself into position.

“Can I have you, darling?”

You whine into the bed, feeling your orgasm building and building. “Please, baby, I need you inside me - fuck, baby, please…”

“I thought I was in charge?” 

His voice is low, honeyed, hot as he whispers in your ear. It tips you closer and closer to the edge. 

“You are… I just want you so fucking much.”

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?”

“Please. Fuck me, my love. Hard as you want to.”

“Fuck, Lyd.” With a groan and some muttered expletives, Ben sinks inside you, pausing for a moment to enjoy the sensation. “Always feels so incredible inside you, baby,” he pants, one arm holding you around your tits and the other against your belly. “Just - oh, fuck - just perfect.” 

It is perfect - perfect angle, perfect feeling of him stretching you, of his hands on you. He drags himself out of your cunt slowly, steadily, making you whimper at the loss of him. A snap of his hips and he’s buried inside you again, beginning a hard rhythm that has you crying his name into the bed as he fucks you, fast and deep, the softness of your ass cushioning his thrusts as he showers you with praise. His good girl. His beautiful woman. His love. 

His. His. Only his. Repeated. Possessive. Perfect.

He shifts his hand from your belly to your pussy, working tight circles over the swollen nub of your clit as you get closer and closer, mouth sucking on the delicate flesh of your neck, never letting up the rhythm until you cry out and come on his cock, the wetness audible as he fucks you through it. 

“Good, baby?” He pulls out as you’re still coming down, easing you onto your back and settling himself on top of you, carefully parting your legs. 

You look up at him, cockdrunk, seeing stars, and with no way to express how you feel other than a satisfied whine as you pull him to you for a hungry, sloppy kiss. Ben smiles and chuckles against your lips as he reaches down to gently hook an arm under your knee as he sinks back into you with a guttural moan. 

He picks up the pace again quickly, taking you harder now, rougher, even, and gripping the headboard of the bed with his free hand. His hair is dishevelled, errant short curls falling over his brow as sweat runs in rivulets over the freckles scattered underneath the hollow of his throat and lips finding yours as you start to babble to him incoherently, surrendering to the sensation. 

He drops his hand from the headboard to find yours, pressing your hand and arm into the mattress as he holds you down while he fucks you. 

“Talk to me, Lyd. Tell me. See how much I want you? Tell me.”

You mutter filthily about how deep he is, how big he is, how you love having him inside of you, how much you want him - need him - to fill you up. But then you look at him - at his beautiful face, screwed up and teeth gritted as he makes love to you - and another urge takes over, displacing the dirty talk with something no less intense, but softer, all the same.

“I fucking love you, Ben - fuck, keep going, that’s so good, fuck…”

He groans and reaches for your breast, groping it as he nears his own release. “You’re mine, Lyddie. All mine.”

“Yours, Ben. Every bit of me. Yours, forever, like you’re fucking mine.”

“My woman…my - oh, fuck - my good fucking girl.” You know he’s really close. “Keep talking, Lyd. Want to hear it.”

“You’re mine, baby - oh god, Ben, that’s so fucking good - all mine. I’ll give you anything. Everything.”

Ben rests his head against your neck, panting and moaning as his rhythm falters. “I’m all yours, Lydia, always - f-fuck, I’m gonna…”

You hold him tight, hands across the breadth of his back. “You’ll never be alone again, baby - fuck, Ben! - gonna take care of you, gonna be our own little family…”

He positively growls as he comes inside you, your head knocking against the headboard as he snaps his hips against yours before collapsing against your body. You hold him tight, gentle, slow, one hand winding through his curls and the other reaching for his hand as you plant soft kisses along his hairline.

He eases himself out of you with a final kiss and flops back onto the mattress beside you, still trying to catch his breath and with the most beautifully blissed-out expression on his face.

“I’m just going to clean up and take these stockings off, my love,” you murmur, shifting your body to the edge of the bed. “You okay?”

Ben grins and giggles to himself as he looks at you. “I am fantastic. Don’t know my name or what year it is, but I am fucking fantastic.”

You pad back from the bathroom as quickly as you can, discarding your stockings and climbing back into bed beside him. He’s reaching for you before you’ve even settled your body on the mattress, broad hands gently rubbing your belly, your hips, the line of your breasts. His breath is steadier now, face and body completely relaxed in the gorgeous afterglow.

“You are such a beautiful man.”

Ben opens one eye and meets your gaze. “Hmmmph?”

“I said, you are such a beautiful man. Don’t dare deny it.” 

He smiles softly, closing his eyes again as your fingertips trace the line of his nose, brush against an errant curl, find the outline of the little bare patches on the side of his jaw. Your thumb swipes gently across his lower lip, fingers seeking out the texture of his moustache. 

You go to speak, and stop yourself. 

“What were you going to say, Lyddie?” His voice is heavy, sleep beckoning him.

“Nothing, I was just - no, it’s stupid.”

“Nothing stupid could ever come out of your pretty mouth.”

You giggle quietly and bring yourself even closer to him, resting your hand on his chest. He reaches up to hold it. 

“It’s just that… I don’t know. When I look at you like this, at all the little things that are just uniquely you, it feels like everything fits. You know?”

He opens his eyes again. “Everything fits?”

“It’s like, ‘aha. Yes. That.’ Like I was always meant to be looking at this face. Like there was a bit of me that I didn’t even know I was missing and it just was…it was you. Even if I didn’t know it.”

He smiles and leans in for a soft kiss. “And now everything fits.”

He wakes her with coffee and kisses, knowing how much she hates prising herself from the warmth of their shared bed. A little incentive, a way to help her avoid panic later in the morning, one of those tiny acts of love they perform for each other every day. 

She orders a taxi for a couple of hours’ time and strips the bedsheets, casting an eye over their shared luggage waiting for departure as she joins him in the living area. Having put the sheets on a wash-dry cycle, her hands rest lightly on his broad shoulders as she quickly kisses him on the cheek and heads for the bathroom to shower. Instinctively, she gathers all but their essentials - toothbrushes and paste, shower gel - and slips them in a ziploc bag, ready to go into one of their cases. 

Once he’s showered, they continue their seamless little ballet of co-operation and partnership as they prepare to depart: a reminder to empty the trash here, an almost-forgotten phone charger spotted there, last few belongings squished into their hand luggage, and a final check on their passports and tickets. She checks every drawer and cupboard one more time while he places their trash bag in the small communal dumpster in the building’s courtyard. 

It is a banal ritual: unthinking, unrehearsed, instinctive. But there’s something in the way they slot together so neatly, the way they complement each other, the easy, naturalness of it all, that speaks to a sense of partnership that works as well in the routines of everyday life as it does in the bedroom. 

He carries the cases down to the main hallway as she checks the apartment’s small windows and locks up, following him downstairs after she drops off the key to Sophie’s neighbour. 

He’s outside, standing with the bags on the pavement outside the building. The G7 taxi pulls up almost immediately, and he can’t help but smile with pride when he hears her confidently chatting away in French to the driver as they load the trunk with their luggage. 

Her hand finds his in the backseat, head resting against his shoulder. Partners. A team.

As the car heads northwards towards the edge of the city, he casts a glance at his phone. Two new job alerts, for positions at institutions in Europe. 

He resolves to check them out properly once they get home. For now, though, just a squeeze of her hand, a kiss to the top of her head, and a silent resolution that he’d follow her to the ends of the earth. 

*******

Further A/N: I'm going to make a separate post with more details on the music, the locations, and the food in this chapter...

[morganwrites12672]

Kate Bishop x Barton!Reader

This is what won my most recent poll!

Summary: Kate fell for Clint's bow wielding daughter.

Warnings/Tags:

Rating: PG-13

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Kate watched as you collected all of your arrows. She felt like it might be a tad bit creepy to watch you.

But it was just a coincidence, right? She just happened to have memorized when you used the gym and training facilities.

"Hey Bishop."

Kate froze when she heard your voice. She glanced up from her bow, which she was cleaning, and looked at you.

Your hair was up in a ponytail, and you were wearing a leggings and sports bra set. She thought you were gorgeous, even all sweaty.

"I'm, hi yeah, I'm Kate," she stumbled over her words as a blush spread across her cheeks. She sounded like an idiot.

"Cool bow," you said and she blushed even deeper. You were just giving her a fairly minor compliment, but she was star struck.

"Um, thanks. I even got your dad to sign it," she said. You laughed and she couldn't tell if she said something wrong or right.

"He talks about you a lot more then he would admit," you said before running off to the showers.

Kate watched you leave and she couldn't believe it. You had talked to her, Yn Barton had talked to her.

She picked up her bow before walking to the elevator. She hoped she would run into you again soon, you were both staying in rooms on the same floor.

The elevator dinged and Kate got out before walking to her door. She opens the familiar door before walking inside and shutting it behind her.

She sets her bow on it's stand and looks around. Her room was still a little empty. She had only moved in to the avengers tower a few months ago. Her training had been to time consuming for her to really do much decorating.

There were only a few photos framed on her wall. A team photo, and a few of her with clint. And her personal favorite, a selfie of the two of you.

She attempted to gather the courage to ask you out many times. How did she even know if you were bisexual or lesbian? What if you were straight? She needed to find out.

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"So, has Yn gotten a boyfriend yet?" Kate asked Clint. He was practicing with a new type of bow. Yet, he still made every shot bullseye.

"No, she actually doesn't care for guys if you know what I mean. But she's still single," Clint replied before smiling.

"Why are you asking?" Clint asked Kate.who's face turned a shade of maroon.

"I, um just," she gestured around before running out of the archery center. She was caught.

She was headed straight to your room. She wasn't going to ask you out, but she could talk to you. Maybe you would fall in love with her.

She didn't even get time to knock, you opened the door. She begins blushing again and doesn't know what to do.

"I heard your footsteps," you explain and step aside so she can come inside of your room.

She smiles before coming inside.

"Do you wanna get lunch?" You ask and Kate blushes, "Like as a date?" You add and Kate doesn't know what to say.

"My dad texted," you say with a light blush. Your father had texted and told you to make a move already. The tension between the two of you was killing him.

"Of course!" She said, just a little bit to excited, "Shit sorry. I mean sure," she said and laughed a little.

"Let's go," you say and grab your phone before leading Kate out of the room.

Kate couldn't help the pep in her step as she walked with you. She was excited.

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Requests are open.

Please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed, it helps spread my writing.

[crystalsnow95z]

We have a tie for my Halloween poll, so it's gonna be Taejoon story..the comments had two ideas, so there's gonna be a bonus story to be posted later.

Sickie: Taejoon with bad colds (cough, fever, sniffles, a bit of vom!t towards the end.)

Caretakers: Ot7

Namjoon could see the dim light underneath the blanket of Taehyung's phone, the younger boy scrolling on the screen. It was almost midnight, but it was clear both boys couldn't sleep. "Tae?"

Taehyung pops his head from underneath the blanket. "I'm sorry. Was I keeping you up?"

"No, you're fine. I couldn't sleep. I just wanted to know if you'd want to go for a walk with me. I saw a park on our way to the hotel." Namjoon offers, relieved when he sees Taehyung getting up.

"Put on a hat and a face mask. We might be in another country, but we still don't want to be recognized." Namjoon warns, getting up to do the same. They came to America to do a collaboration, but the project kept them busy for the past two days, giving them no free time.

Taehyung nods, digging out a beige beanie from his suitcase to cover up his red hair. "I'm ready." He says with a smile, pulling his jacket over his shoulders and taking the face mask from the pocket.

Namjoon does the same, using a black beanie to cover up his blonde hair, quickly putting on his jacket and shoes.

"Are you sure that jacket is heavy enough, hyung?" Taehyung questions.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. You're gonna be sweating it that heavy trench coat." Namjoon teases. "Do you have the hotel key?"

Taehyung grabs his wallet. "I do now. What happened to yours?"

"Let's go before it gets too late." Namjoon doesn't answer his question, leaving the room.

"Hyung did you lose it already?" Taehyung whispers. "It's only been two days."

"No. It's somewhere in that room. It's just misplaced." Namjoon blushes in embarrassment to be scolded by the younger member, making Taehyung giggle.

"Shh.. people are sleeping.." Namjoon leads the way out of the building, the crisp autumn air hitting them with a cool breeze.

"Wow, even at night, all the colors are amazing.." Taehyung's eyes brighten seeing the orange and yellow trees underneath the street lamps, taking out his phone to take a picture.

"It'll be prettier at the park where there's tons of trees. Let's go, it's not that far. Namjoon pulls him by his elbow.

"It's been a while since it was only us two walking together..was the last time when we went up that mountian for losing that game?" Taehyung asks, looking around at all the different trees with amazement.

Namjoon laughs, watching his head turn every which way as they walk. "You look like a bird moving like that. It's like you never saw autumn leaves before."

"Sorry.. I'm just excited..I didn't get a good look in the car because of the tinted windows and us being rushed inside." Taehyung gives Namjoon a shy smile, earning himself a head pat from Namjoon.

"You don't have to be sorry. I just thought it was cute." Namjoon smiles. "Let's cross here."

The park was only a 15-minute walk from the hotel, the two ex roommates exchanging old memories with each other along the way.

"Look, hyung! A swing set!" Taehyung runs up to it, taking a seat on the swing."It reminds me of Hakdong park! Careful Namjoon, there are puddles under the swing."

"This one has an extra swing, but other than that, the setup is really similar." Namjoon takes the swing next to him, pulling it back to get on it without getting his feet wet. "If we have time, we should bring the others here before our flight home."

"Before we shoot run BTS?" Taehyung suggests, swinging lightly. "Ah, do you know what our challenge will be?"

"Nope. I have no idea. The only hint I got was that it's themed." Namjoon shrugs.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Taehyung tilts his head.

"Probably something like a haunted house?" Namjoon leaned back on the swing to look up at the sky. "Wow, the moon's beautiful tonight."

Taehyung mimicks Namjoon, holding tightly on the chains as he lets himself fall back, looking up at the full moon with clouds swirling around it. "Woah. I wish I had brought my camera.. my phone can't capture it." He sat up quickly when he heard a loud bang, trying to see if it was a firework or gunshot.

"What was-" Namjoon tried to quickly sit up, falling out of the seat into the water below. "Ahpa..ahpa.." he rubbed the back of his head, Taehyung rushing to him.

"Are you okay Namjoon-ah?" Taehyung brushes the wet woodchips from his back.

"Yeah, I'm fine..just wet.." Namjoon gives Taehyung a reassuring smile through the pain. "That just startled me.."

"Me too.." Taehyung helps Namjoon, getting him to his feet. "You're soaked now Hyung.. I think we should get back to the hotel."

"Yeah, but I think we should go a different way.. I don't want to go towards that sound.." Namjoon says, feeling uneasy. He takes Taehyungs hand, walking the opposite direction of the hotel.

"Don't worry, Hyung. It was probably just a firework.. there's a holiday coming up, right?" Taehyung squeezes his hand.

Namjoon gives him a half smile. He knew Halloween wasn't known for fireworks, but he didn't want to tell Taehyung that if that's really what he believed. "Yeah,you're right. But it's better to be safe than sorry."

Taehyung trusted Namjoon's judgment, but that didn't stop him from worrying about him. "Namjoon-ah, your teeth are chattering.." Taehyung takes off his trench coat, draping over Namjoon’s shoulders.

"Taehyungie no. You need your jacket." Namjoon tried to give it back, but the younger runs ahead. "Taehyung-ah!" He tried quietly, yelling to get attention.

"No, I'll be fine. I don't want to see you suffering, Hyung. If I stay moving, I'll stay warm." Taehyung tells him, refusing to touch his coat. "It's only a short walk back. I can handle cold."

"Fine..just don't run ahead.. I don't want you getting lost." Namjoon catches up to him, grabbing him by the wrist. "Stay next to me."

"Namjoon-ah, Namjoonie-hyung..we need to meet with the others soon." Taehyung's voice came out as a raspy whisper, gently rubbing Namjoon’s chest. "Do you want me to tell them you aren't feeling well?"

Namjoon coughs, eyes fluttering open."Taehyung-Ah? Mm..no..I'll be okay...what time is it...?" My throat.. it hurts to talk..

"It's 10:15. We're supposed to meet up at 10:30.." Taehyung replies, clearing his throat.

"Sh*t.. okay..okay I'm getting up.." Namjoon sits up, coughing into his fist. "Could you get me some water?"

Taehyung nods, getting up to fill a cup with water, leaning against the sink as a wave of dizziness washes over him. He woke up twenty minutes before Namjoon to the sound of the older member coughing, feeling congested, his head pounding painfully against his sinuses.

"Taehyung, are you feeling okay?" Namjoon asks, stifling another cough when he sees him doubled over the sink.

"I'll be okay. My nose is just a bit stuffy because it's cold out. No big deal. You should quickly take your shower. The steam should help you feel better." Taehyung returns with a cup of water, giving it to him. The shower helped me a bit..

"Take it easy today, okay?" Namjoon warns him. I shouldn't have invited him out last night. He was fine yesterday.

"Okay Hyung. I will." Taehyung sniffles, laying back down on his bed. "I'll just rest a bit while you get ready."

Namjoon left to shower, quickly texting a staff member.

Could you bring some cough medicine when you pick us up? I'm not feeling well.. My throat hurts, and I have a bad headache.

Namjoon sets his phone down. He turns up the water to be as hot as he could handle, using the steam to try to clear the mucus that kept draining into his throat.

The hot water made him feel dizzy, holding the wall tightly. Am I running a fever? The thought crossed his mind, but he quickly shook his head. No. No, the water is just too hot. I'm fine..

Namjoon quickly turned off the water, laying in the tub, hands over his face. "I just need some water.." When he tried to get to his feet, his vision went hazy, falling back into the tub with a loud bang.

"Namjoon-ah! Hyung are you okay?" Taehyung rushes into the bathroom when he hears it.

"Yeah, yeah I just slipped. Clumsy me, this is embarrassing.." Namjoon gives him an awkward smile, taking Taehyung's out stretched hand.

"Don't worry Hyung. I won't tell any..one." Taehyung coughs out the last word, pressing his lips together.

"I guess we both aren't doing well.." Namjoon sighs. "I'm sorry. That night walk was a bad idea."

"Don't be sorry. I liked spending time with you.." Taehyung smiles, hearing someone knock on the door. "Get dressed. I'll handle it." He goes to the door, peeking through the peep hole. "Ah, Jungkook-ah. Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, I slept great. How about you? You look tired." Jungkook says with a frown.

"Ah, Namjoonie-hyung kept me up...with his snoring." Taehyung quickly added.

"Oh right. He does snore really loud. I'm glad I didn't lose." Jungkook teases. "I'd offer you a sip of my coffee, but you'd hate it. I got you some cocoa though. Where's Rapmonnie-hyung? I brought him some coffee."

"Hes getting dressed. Thanks Jungukkie." Taehyung gratefully takes the hot beverage from the cup holder, sipping on it to soothe his throat.

Namjoon's coughing was heard from the bathroom, making Jungkook rush in to check on him. "Namjoonie hyung are you okay?"

"Yeah..yeah.. I'm fine. I just..choked on the tooth..paste.." Namjoon coughs in-between words

"Be careful hyungie.." Jungkook hands him the coffee. "Here, take a drink."

Namjoon takes a big swallow, sighing when the coughing stops. "Alright, I just need my shoes and I'm ready."

Namjoon leaned against the car window while they drove to the location of the shoot, trying to hold back another cough. He knew he couldn't hide it from the others for long, but as soon as he went to the car, the older members were onto him.

He was going to wait until they reached the location to take the medicine, but Yoongi was already fretting over him.

"Namjoon-ah are you coming down with a cold?" Yoongi was straight to the point, eyes darkened with concern.

"Yeah, but its just a sore throat.." Namjoon knew he couldn't brush off Yoongi like he did Jungkook.

"Namjoon-ah, if you aren't feeling well, maybe you should sit it out." Jin suggests lightly, already knowing the answer he'll give.

"No, no, I'll be fine after i take some medicine. It's just a cough. It's nothing serious." Namjoon tried to downplay how bad he felt. Talking at a normal level felt like he was screaming.

Taehyung stayed quiet, letting his nose drip down, licking his lips when the watery snot hit them. He didn't dare sniffle, not wanting to draw attention to himself, pretending to be engrossed in the comic he was reading on his phone.

"You sound like you sang two concerts back to back on your own.. you'll worry, army." Jimin tries to talk him out of it. "You should really rest."

Namjoon shakes his head, coughing into his elbow. "They'll worry either way. We can edit out of I cough too badly. It'll be fine. They said it'll only take two hours tops."

"Alright..fine..but you stop when I say so." Jin says with a serious tone, using his role as the oldest. "I don't want you completely losing your voice over one episode. We have a concert next week."

"I promise." Namjoon says, sipping some water. "I'll try to keep the talking to a minimum.."

"Woah! It's a real pumpkin patch! Like in those movies!" Jungkook excitedly looked at the vast field of orange pumpkins of all sorts of different shapes and sizes.

"What are we doing here?" J-Hope asks.

"Each of you will choose a pumpkin from the patch to carve, then we'll continue inside." Staff tells them.

"I've never carved a pumpkin before.." Jimin admits. "Is a bigger one easies or a smaller one?"

"I haven't either, but I think a bigger one would be easier to carve because it's a bigger surface, but it's more to clear out." Yoongi smiles when he sees J-hope make a face at the idea of gutting the pumpkin.

Namjoon moves out of the camera shot, coughing into his arm. The cold autumn air made it harder not to cough.

"We need to choose quickly..Namjoonie needs to get inside as soon as possible.." J-hope clenched his jaw, his chest tightening to hear his friend cough.

"HEH'HEHTICHI!" Taehyung sneezes, covering his face. "Ah, sorry, Hyung." He apologized when he saw Hobi jump,trying to sound causal.

"Bless you, Tae. You're not catching a cold, too, are you?" Jimin rubs the back of Taehyung’s neck. "You feel warm."

"Your hands are just cold from being outside." Taehyung smiles. "Let's go pick a pumpkin." He tried to keep his energy high, pulling Jimin through the patch.

"Be careful where you step. There's vines. Don't trip!" Jin warns them a little too late, watching Taehyung fall Jimin being pulled down with him, both boys stumbling over.

"I lost my shoe.." Taehyung pouts.

"Taehyungie what have I told you to wear your shoes properly!" Jimin yells at him.

Taehyung laughs, but it turns into a cough, trying to muffle it with his scarf. "Don't make me laugh.."

"You are sick.." Jimin frowns, quickly getting Taehyung's shoe, putting it properly on his foot.

"It's not as bad as Namjoonie. I just didn't want to worry you guys. I'm fine. Really, it's just my sinuses.." Taehyung reassures Jimin, sniffling.

"It doesn't matter if Namjoon is worse or not. You don't need to act like you're fine. Did you take any medicine?"

"Namjoon-ah gave me some. I'm handling it."Taehyung promises, stifling another cough. "Oh! Look at this one! It reminds me of Tata!" He picks up an oddly shaped pumpkin."No, wait.. It's a butt.. you can have that one.."

Jimin rolls his eyes, knowing what his soulmate is doing. Taehyung is trying his best to act playful so the others didn't worry. "I don't want that one. What about the one next to it?" Jimin picks up a medium-sized pumpkin, wanting to get Taehyung inside as quickly as possible."It's perfect."

"I'll give it to Namjoonie hyung." Taehyung gets to his feet, holding his hand out to Jimin. "Come on, let's go show him."

Jimin reluctantly takes it, letting Taehyung pull him to his feet. "Looks like Jungkook beat you to it. You'll have to keep my gifted pumpkin."

Taehyung looks over to Jungkook, holding two pumpkins, then to Namjoon. "I'll see if I can get Namjoon-ah to go inside with me then."

"Good idea." Taehyung carries his pumpkin to Namjoon. "Hyung, I'm cold.. Since we got our pumpkins, can we go in?"

Namjoon was relieved to have an excuse to go in without having to admit the cold air made his coughing worse. "Feeling shy to go in alone? Alright. I'll go."He takes Taehyung's hand, leading him inside, where some staff are waiting.

"Ah, Namjoon-sii, Taehyung-sii. Is everything okay?" A staff member approached them. "Do you need anything?"

"No, everything is fine. It's just cold out, I didn't want to risk getting worse. Is that..." Namjoon tried to keep his coughing under control, but the last sentence got cut off by a bout of coughing.

The woman takes the pumpkin from him, placing it on the table, and quickly digs a few cough drops out of her purse. "Here, this should help.. I don't have many. I'm sorry."

Namjoon goes to thank her, but when he tries to talk, the coughing starts up again. He fumbles with the wrapper, Taehyung taking it from him to help open it.

"Here, hyung. Open." Taehyung pops the cough drop into his brothers mouth, his voice coming out softly.

Namjoon sucks on the lozenge, feeling relief as the mentol drop coats his dry throat. "Thank you.." he bows to the staff member and turns to Taehyung, offering him one."Here, you take one too."

"There's only three.. you should keep them.. I'm not coughing much, I'll be fine." Taehyung closes Namjoon's hand. "I hear the others.."

"Jungkookie be careful, you elbowed me.. why did you have to choose the biggest pumpkin?" Jimins voice is heard in a pout.

Taehyung runs up to greet them, knowing Namjoon wouldn't force him if they were with the others. "Oh wow.. it almost takes up your whole chest."

"It's not that big..sorry, Jiminshii, it was slipping." Jungkook apologizes, quickly going to the table to set it down. Jimin puts his down next to his, Jungkook giggling. "It's tiny like you."

"You punk." Jimin pushes him. "I'm not tiny."

"You're the smallest."Jungkook taunts running as Jimin chases him, hiding behind Jin.

"I'm not a shield. Stop playing around." Jin scolds both of them. He usually didn't mind the younger boys messing around, but he wanted to get through filming as soon as possible. Even with Taehyung smiling watching his two friends play, Jin could hear his labored breathing from his stuffed nose.

"Okay, Hyung. Sorry." Jungkook bows to Jimin.

"Oh, there's a guest here.." Yoongi points out the unfamiliar face. Everyone looks around to see who he meant, a blonde haired man catching their attention.

"H-Hello everyone!" The man stammered nervously. "I'm Zach. I'm the owner of this pumpkin patch, well.. my father is.. I'm going to help you carve your pumpkins."

"1,2,3.." Namjoon counts for their introduction, but coughs before he could get more than the first part of his name.

"His name is Namjoon." Jin answers for him, going down the line for each member. "Thank you for teaching us.."

The others echoed their thanks, except Taehyung, who only mouths the words. He tried to focus on the lesson, watching Zach cut into the top of the pumpkin, but his nose kept leaking, making him have to constantly sniffle.

"Here Hyung.." Jungkook passes him a napkin discretely, whispering by his ear. "Your nose is leaking."

"Ah, thanks, Jk.." Taehyung whispers, trying to quietly blow his nose. Thankfully, the cameras were focused on Yoongi and Namjoon bickering.

Namjoon stabbed the knife into the pumpkin, trying to saw it open, lacking the strength to actually do it. He only got a few zig zags before he couldn't get deep enough, the knife slipping.

"Namjoon-ah stop. Let me do it. I don't want you to cut yourself." Yoongi takes over.

"I can do it myself." Namjoon argues, but does nothing to stop him from taking it from him. "What about your own?"

"Jimin can do it,he's almost done with his already. Right Jiminie?" Yoongi asks Jimin.

"Ah, of course. No problem." Jimin smiles. He knew helping Yoongi meant giving the deagu rapper the chance to help Namjoon. He peeks over to Taehyung to see if he is doing any better. He's struggling too..

Taehyung had to use both hands to have enough pressure to cut through, wiping his nose on his shoulder. Why is this so hard...? It's hard to breathe when I don't concentrate on breathing..

"You aren't doing it right. Let hyung do it." Jin abandoned his project to help Taehyung. He couldn't stand seeing the young member suffering.

"I'm sorry hyung.. I'm trying my best." Taehyung coughs, a twinge of guilt filling his belly. When he looks at Jin's unfinished project. "I can do it.."

"I know you can, but i dont want you to get hurt. It's fine. I'll get you do the fun part okay? You and Namjoon were never good in the kitchen." Jin kisses his forehead. He feels warm...

"Augh! Even with gloves, it's gross!" J-hope whines, pulling out the inside of the pumpkin placing the guts aside.

"Let me help Hyung.. you can help Jinnie-hyung finish opening the top." Taehyung offers, rising to his feet to go by J-hope."It isn't that hard.. Right?"

"Well, no..but I can do it. It's not too different from making kimchi, just more..clumpy..It's fine." J-hops felt his heart twinge when Taehyung shook his head and gave him a smile taking his pumpkin anyway. Jin wanted him to rest, and he ruined it.

"I got it." Taehyung puts on the gloves, finding it much easier to just stand and remove the insides.

Jin reached over to pat J-hopes back, mouthing 'it's okay'. J-hope gives the tiniest nods, watching the young vocalist with concern. His hands were shaky, but he looked determined, a serious look across his flushed cheeks.

J-hope turned his head quickly when he heard Namjoon's coughing. He tried to muffle it with the scarf he was wearing,but it made no difference.

Namjoon felt awful.. the more he moved, the worse he felt. The sound of the members talking amongst themselves made his head pound, making him want to give up, but he was already halfway through and refused to give up.

"Namjoon-ah you okay?" Yoongi asks, unable to touch him with the dirty gloves. "Do you need a break?"

"No.. no, I'm fine.. I just need some water.." Namjoon says hoarsely.

Jungkook jumps up to get him some, removing his gloves and rushing to the cooler staff brought in the room, rushing to Namjoon’s side. "Here hyung.." he tips the bottle by his lips.

Namjoon drinks slowly, feeling some energy flowing back inside him. "Thanks Jk.. I'm fine now.."

"No..you and Taehyungie are done." Yoongi uses a stern tone.

"But hyung-" Taehyung goes to argue, but Jin stops him.

"I agree. At least for now.. We'll prep the pumpkins, and then you can come back." Jin says, gently nudging him to his feet. "Go properly blow your nose, at least.."

"Okay.." Taehyung says softly.

"Come on Tae-yah.." Namjoon knew there was no arguing against it.. not when the two oldest both told them to rest. He led the younger to the bathroom, going to the sink to splash water in his face.

Taehyung went into the bathroom stall, getting some toliet paper to try to clear his nose, sitting cross legged on the floor. The tough tissue irritated his nose further. It felt like there was no end, and the more mucus he got out, the more his sinuses throbbed, making his eyes water.

The sound of Namjoon's coughing got Taehyung back to his feet, rushing over to him. "Hyung are you okay?"

Namjoon tried to talk, but all that came out were wheezing coughs. I can't breathe..it hurts..

Taehyung pulls Namjoon close, gasping when he feels the heat radiating off of him. When did he get so bad? "You're burning up. Hang on, let me get you help.."

Namjoon holds onto Taehyung with a soft whimper. "Do..Don't.." His voice came out as a wheezing cough. He didn't want to be left alone, not when his lungs burned and his head felt light with the lack of oxygen.

Taehyung quickly texted the group chat, his hands shaking, keeping his message as quick as possible.

Nam not brthing..

Taehyung puts his phone down. "They'll come help.. it's okay.. you'll be f.." His comforting words lost their impact when a bout of coughing rattles his chest, making it hard to breathe. No, no.. I need to be strong for Namjoonie-hyung..please..

He tried to hold his breath to keep his coughing under control, hugging Namjoon tightly to him, feeling Namjoon's cough on his neck.

I don't know what to do.. I need to wait for someone to check their phone..

Taehyung runs his hand through Namjoon's hair, feeling dizzy from cutting off his own air supply. His heart pounded painfully like a jack hammer in his chest,but he didn't want to worry Namjoon. Not when he was already suffering.

"It..it's okay..you..don't..have to..pretend for me.." Namjoon coughs out the words, pressing into Taehyung’s abdomen to force him to let go of the breath he was holding.

Taehyung coughed, gasping for air. "Ah, hyung th..at hu..rt.." he felt the tension ease when Namjoon spoke, his shred of hope snatched away when the coughing turned to gagging. "Namjoon..come on.. we need to move..to..the toliet." He practically dragged the rapper into the stall, lifting the seat.

Namjoon coughed up the coffee, groaning when the acidic tang rose up his throat and into the bowl. Taehyung kept his arms wrapped around Namjoon's waist to hold him up.

"Hyungie..it's okay I got you.." Tae whispers, feeling him trembling with effort to hold himself up, Namjoons hands tightly around the toliet bowl. He buried his face in Namjoon's shoulder, coughing into it.

"Namjoon-ah! Taehyung-ah!" Yoongi tuns in the bathroom, hearing the two members suffering. He goes into the stall, gently removing Tae from Namjoon to take over. "Go to Jinnie-hyung. I'll take care of him, okay?

"Vuu.. Vuu come to hyungie." Jin calls to Taehyung with open arms, Taehyung stumbling into him.

"I..I couldn't help.. he just kept getting worse." Taehyung squeezes Jin tightly, feeling tears prick the corners of his eyes.

"Shh.. it's okay.. it's okay you did all you could.. you stayed with him and that's all any of us can do. You did so good Voo. You stayed with him even if you weren't well yourself. I'm proud." Jin reassures the younger, stroking his hair. "Baby you're hot.. come on, let's find you a place to lay down."

"No.. no I want to.." Taehyung coughs,making half the sentence cut off.

"Yoongi has joon-ah under control.. it's okay.." Jin gives Taehyung no choice, picking him up. He wanted to get him away from the sound of Namjoon's retching and the sound of Namjoons sick spraying into the bowl.

"It's okay, it's okay. Don't try to fight it.. just let it run its course, and you'll feel better after.. I know it hurts.." Yoongi gently scratches Namjoon's back, taking deep breaths to keep himself from panicking. He couldn't let his anxiety take over, not when two members needed him to stay strong. "Deep breaths, Namjoon.."

Namjoon nods, trying to fill his lungs. "Yoongi it hurts to breathe.." he whimpers softly.

"I know baby, I know.. it'll be over soon.. just hang in there for me okay?" Yoongi rubs Namjoon’s stomach, feeling it churning underneath his hand, his muscles tightening as he starts to Vomit again.

Namjoon groans as he spits up foam, having nothing left in his stomach. He gagged again,another string of foamy spit comes. He had nothing left, collapsing against Yoongi's chest. "I..I think I'm done.." he coughs out the words.

"Good..good.. let's get you and Tae home.." Yoongi gently strokes Namjoon's hair. "We can finish the episode another time.. you two are more important.."

[trainsinanime]

WIP reblog game

I got tagged by @chaos-has-theories and @into-september. Sorry for the delay in doing this, I just forgot about it.

If you're like me and you have a million WIPs and are anxious about updating them, play this game!

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

Let's start with the stories. So, I don't trust myself with multi-chapter stories, it takes me forever to write one-shots already, so (almost) none of these are out yet. You can read the ones that are out over here.

Operation Multifail. Three-chapter story where Marinette tries to convince Chat Noir to stop thinking about Multimouse by fighting as Multimouse, badly, on purpose, so he'll think she's incompetent. It doesn't quite work out.

Kwamidaddy Adrien. Assumes Marinette is the guardian. For reasons, Chat Noir has to take the Kwamis for a while. They all promised not to tell him anything about her private life. Shouldn't be a problem, right? This one may also end up being like three chapters

Chlogami Sabrina's Wedding. I think I posted a rough outline for chapter one here: It's Sabrina's wedding, and drunk Chloé confides in also-drunk Kagami about her complicated relationship to Sabrina, how she's happy for her but also jealous but also knows that because of their baggage, it could never work, while Kagami also has feelings about Adrien's and Marinette's upcoming wedding. I have like half a first draft of a first chapter here and absolutely no clue where this might go next.

Wings AU - Learning to Land. So there's a wings AU concept for Miraculous that keeps coming up every now and then. A bit too angsty for me, but when I first heard it, I thought it was a fun idea to talk about aerodynamics and world building in that context, specifically where Marinette teaches sheltered Adrien how to fly.

Plagg Interview. Now we're deep in the dregs, I picked a folder at random. Alya publishes interviews with someone close to Chat Noir's thinking. That someone: Plagg, who has been bribed with cheese. Marinette is not happy, but she can't say anything because Alya can't learn she's Ladybug. Yeah, this one's been sitting in my folder for a while. As have the others. Probably a one-shot.

Stuff I'm looking forward to in each fic:

The whole thing is based around big action set pieces. Three big Akuma fights, one in each chapter, which Marinette tries to fail at in different ways, and fails to fail, so to speak. I have no idea how to write these well, but I think that can be fun. Super-unpopular opinion: Fanfiction has way too much angst and romance and not enough action, and I'm definitely part of the problem myself.

Adrien interacting with the Kwamis who imprint on him as their father should be really adorable. As should the Kwamis trying their best to get Adrien and Marinette to marry (without revealing too much (they will reveal too much)).

Writing the banter between Chloé and Kagami is fun. I want to write more of it. I can definitely see someone taking that concept and turning it into, for lack of a better word, "normal long fic"; you know, thirty chapters, misunderstanding, they take a trip for a few chapters and return, so on and so forth. I'm not doing that, I don't have the work ethic and it's not actually my favourite genre of fanfic anyway. But what else could this story be? Figuring that out is an interesting challenge.

Aerodynamics! Learning to land! How do you learn to fly in a Wings AU? What does "rich kids aren't allowed to fly" mean for the world building? I don't have a story here at all but I do like the setting.

Plagg and Alya scheming together should be gold. Plagg trying to barter with a Marinette who can't reveal she's the Guardian has also a lot of comedic potential. Plagg trying to teach both of them how much Adrien needs them could be very emotional. Just Plagg.

Also, do you have any title ideas for any of these? I think Operation Multifail is good, the rest are just literally the file names I chose when I started with these projects.

I am tagging, very much at random, @sizzleissues, @pauliestorylover, @oblivionhold, @wrw47, @precious-notes, @kyuunonana, @aidanchaser, @aanabear2803, @valtionrautatiet-official and @cosmiccarrotcake. The requirement for inclusion was "I found you in my activity view in the past three months", so if you don't know what fanfic is, or don't feel like doing this, do feel free to ignore this.

[riacte]

🛸 exterrasexymenpoll Follow

Vote for your favourite sexyman in the Exterra racing industry!

THE RED KING from TEAM DOGWARTS and BLUE BATS

vs

QUEEN OF HEARTS from TEAM BLUE BATS

For our other semi-final— BLUE BALLS from TEAM COBALT CATMAIDS vs THE HAND from TEAM DOGWARTS please vote here!

Poll closes at 8pm Intergalatic Central Time. Campaign all you like.

Spamming about van’ilah extract in the comments will result in an instant ban (yeah, we know the meme’s going around sunblr, but let’s keep this poll somewhat sensible, okay?)

Requests about including THE Blue Stalker will also result in an instant ban. This blog does not condone attempted murder, harassment, stalking, violence, etc etc.

🔮 queenofstarz03 Follow

SHUT UP HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO VOTE NAWT MY ICONIC DIVORCED PARENTS 😭😭😭😭 I’M PROPELLED INTO THE STRATOSPHEREEEEEE

voting for qoh bc rk would’ve wanted it 🥺 i miss them forever and forever ueueue

also sorry but the blue stalker is the ultimate exterra sexyman. those fanfic authors gave them so much personality when all they want is to unalive rk 😩 rotating the iconic enemies to lovers 20k oneshot in my brain

🦇 starshipspachelbel Follow

I’m more surprised by how Blue Balls is in the semi-finals

Anyways I’ll be voting for RK, he’s a pathetic wet paper bag of a Lykos lmfao <3

👽 blueballs Follow

dude my name is blueballs how did you NOT expect me to be in the semifinals lmao

🦇 starshipspachelbel Follow

HELP NOT A CC (Crew / Comms) NOTICE EXTERRABLR SCATTER

☄️ cosmiclovee Follow

I BELIEVE IN BLUEBALLS SUPREMACY #BALLSWEEP

By the way, QoH stans rise!! Did you forget our awakening? Remember the starry suit she wore for the 2109 gala and how everyone was immediately like 😳??? And she rolled up the sleeves?? Remember the x reader fics on Launchpad?

🪓 handoftheking Follow

Yeah, because I’ve read them. Hey, some fics were pretty good.

I also voted for Queen of Hearts. I mean, just look her at her. And as a fellow Lumian, I’m obliged haha.

☄️ cosmiclovee Follow

… Oops, total containment breach now? Mods I’m sorry, you guys don’t have to eat the spaceship that you promised to—

But onto more important things: RK’s own GUNNER didn’t vote for HIM??? And voted for QoH??? LMFAO THIS IS HILARIOUS. the total betrayal. it feels like he’s cheating. the disrespect for RK. i love it.

Also, Hand, you read QoH x reader fics? Any recs lmao? And did you read the bad boy RK ones?

🌲 dilfkisser Follow

So I’m learning from my dash that the Hand himself voted for QoH over RK???? My Treebark ship just sank in two seconds. Wtf.

#BALLSWEEP btw

🥂redkingsboyfriend Follow

Lololol the Hand’s narcissism is really showing. Look at him voting for his pre-transition self. He’s so vain.

@/exterrasexymenpoll can you please remove the Hand’s deadname? It’s disrespectful to transgender people.

📺 saintswept Follow

are you fucking for real, believing in the trans qoh/hand theory in this year?? they’re completely different people. shut up and ship treebark lmao

still funny that the hand didn’t vote for his bf and went for his bf’s ex gunner—

💫 concorp-official Follow

Hey, I know sunblr hates corporations but as the CEO of ConCorp, I feel rather… mystified that I got out in the first round. Was my mad scientist jacket not enough?

Personally I’m surprised that Xisuma Void got further than me. Anyways, supporting the Queen of Hearts.

👬 kissinghomiesgnight Follow

??? Look at how much this poll breached containment? First a CC notice, and then a racer notice, and now a fucking CORPORATION??? Mr Cubfan I am So Sorry but I think people were just too excited to vote for the Catmaid—

[thefinalcinderella]

Tsurune: Irodori no Issha Episode 3: Kirisaki Ranking

A surprise Kabashima and Yushima (who have first names now) focused audio drama

Tsurune translation masterpost here

Translation Notes

1. This seems to imply that Kirisaki is also affiliated with a university 

Kabashima: sigh

Yushima: Good work today, Kabashima

Kabashima: ...You’re early. You already took a bath?

Yushima: Yeah. Baths before school feel great

Kabashima: ! Yushima, what’s that on top of your desk? A printout? Did we have homework or something?

Yushima: No. This is the popularity poll for the Kirisaki High School kyudo club boys

Kabashima: Hah? A popularity poll?

Yushima: The girls got excited while they were talking and made this, apparently. Wanna see?

Kabashima: How stupid!

Yushima: But you’re pretty high up there in the rankings. I see, you don’t want to see it. I guess that’s for the best. Apparently only girls are allowed to see it

Kabashima: Hey...hey wait a minute! Why are you looking at something only girls can see? 

Yushima: Me? I’m special

Kabashima: Yeah right, as if

Yushima: Because the girls rely on me. Like how the boys’ uniforms stink or how the weeding for the shajo is too sloppy, the girls aren’t pleased by those kinds of things. You didn’t know that, did you

Kabashima: I, I didn’t know...

Yushima: I was the one who told Mutou-sensei to ban leaving uniforms at the kyudojo over the weekend. And the girls talk to me about their love problems, like, “Who’s that? Does he have a girlfriend?”

Kabashima: Love...?　Such immorality inside our club! There’s a complete lack of discipline!

Yushima: You’re so strict. What generation are you from? 

Kabashima: Urggh...a-anyways, show me that popularity poll!

Yushima: Oh, you want to see it?

Kabashima: I’m just checking it! After President Motomura and the others retire, it’ll be us second-years’ time to shine! 

Yushima: Wow, you got fired up

Kabashima: The “Smartest Guy” ranking. President Motomura is number one, and Sase-san is second place? And then Fujiwara... These are pretty decent results, putting Fujiwara aside. Apparently, the two third-years are considering doing outside entrance exams (1)

Yushima: Even though they can go anywhere on a recommendation, that’s just like the two of them

Kabashima: The “Princeliness” ranking...Fujiwara’s number one, huh. Well, I guess that’s pretty reasonable too. He comes from a good family and has a refinement to him

Yushima: Wahaha. Nice job acting like you’re above him

Kabashima: You say “above,” but the ranking itself starts from the top. What’s the next one?  “Alikeness” ranking? Hey wait

Kabashima: Senichi and Manji are in first place. Are there other people who look alike other than them? What’s with this rigged poll?

Yushima: Well, even if you say that...this is just the girls playing around. 

Kabashima: The “Tsundere” ranking...even something like that can be ranked? 

Kabashima: Hmm? Who’s this Nikaidou (middle school)?

Yushima: Right? Apparently there was a good-looking tsundere who went to Kirisaki Middle School. It’s amazing that he’s still so popular

Kabashima: How stupid. It really is stu...hey! Yushima, aren’t you in first place? What’s the meaning of this? 

Yushima: Ah, that. It’s just the “Monk” ranking. I just have a shaved head, that’s all

Kabashima: No, there’s comments here that says “Because he’s always calm” and “He attained enlightenment.” You got some bizarrely high praise

Yushima: What do you mean by bizarre? No, but after all, it’s a Monk ranking

Kabashima: That’s true...

Kabashima: ...

Kabashima: (trying to hide his laughter) ...Of all things, a monk...

Yushima: Wow, it seems to be a hit with you

Kabashima: ...Sorry. No, but really, I think they’re compliments

Yushima: Liar, you're smiling. You’re definitely imagining me in a bodhisattva pose right now 

Kabashima: Puh...(clearing his throat)

Yushima: As for your ranking, Kabashima...

Kabashima: W-Wait! I’ll look at it myself!

Kabashima: ...Here it is. Kabashima Umetarou. In first place! The ranking is...what the hell is this! The “Annoying-Cute” ranking!?

Yushima: That’s great, isn’t it, Kabashima

Kabashima: Hah? Hah? Annoying-cute? I’m not annoying or cute!

Yushima: No, you actually are. If you’re just the most annoying then you can’t recover from that, but the moment “cute” is added, it’s an unexpected reversal

Kabashima: I won’t accept this! What part of me is annoying-cute? If it’s my ranking, then it should be something like “most reliable” or “most trustworthy”!

Yushima: Eh~~~

Kabashima: What! You got a different opinion?

Yushima: Ugh, this is why I shouldn’t have shown this to you

[total-drama-atlas]

Episode seven timeeee

I’m still mad MK got booted so early

Okay yeah I like the new Chris. The voice fits. Is it the iconic original? No, but it’s really good.

The intro still sucks tho

Zee spitting his soda all over chase >>>

Priya is such a character I love her

Wayne and Raj are so sweet I love them I would die for them

This moment would be a lot more enjoyable if it quit BUFFERING SO MUCH

“The shark??? Did he make out with the shark too?? No, he just doesn’t want to tell me about the kiss… DOES HE THINK I WONT SUPPORT HIM??? I GOTTA SHOW HIM HOW SUPPORTIVE I AM WITHOUT BEING WEIRD ABOUT IT!!” wayne my beloved

the merger in ep7???? that’s just wild, that makes the accomplishment of making it to the merge… less of an accomplishment.

“So only ONE of you can win immunity.” “That’s fine. There’s only one of me 💅”

I think I’m going to like Julia as the new Heather.

“Like you, Ripper, this challenge is very simple.” “AWESOME” he’s so dumb but not in the endearing way Wayne and raj are idiots.

okay maybe ripper does have some comedic potential

WHAT WAS THAT CLOSEUP ON THE BIRDS LEGS 💀

when I was a kid I told my mom I wanted a pet bird and she told me about a guy in Florida who had a pet cassowary that attacked him and killed him and it was really gross and gory. Idk if it’s true but that did not stifle my desire for weird pets

i feel bad for zee that he has the hiccups this ep :( he doesn’t deserve that

“Just because no one’s ever called me smart doesn’t mean I am.”

Julia i love you Julia i love you Julia i love you Julia i love you Julia i love you Julia i love you Julia i love you Julia i love you Julia I lo

I love bowie guys

“Hey not so bright guy that no one wants” perfect description of chase

WHAT WAS THAT GROWL THIJG CHASE DID WTF

Wayne is so sweet you guys 🥺🥺

“You’re my only equal” “jk he’s like three levels below me”

RAJ BLUSHING IS SO CUTE OMGGGG

Emma just walking away to give Bowie and Raj alone time was so real of her

“sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything-“ “stop, i really liked kissing your face” why did he phrase it like that and why was it so funny

THEIR SECOND KISS GDHSJAJAJA THEYRE SO CUTE

Julia’s scheming is so funny because Chase is so dumb that he actually thinks calling out Emma’s supposed backne is going to get her back

I LOVE HOW EXCITED EMMA IS FOR BOWIE AND RAJ

i feel like Emma and Wayne could bond over it too. Besties perhaps

I love her white girl dancing I gotta go find that poll

i couldn’t find it if someone finds it please rb this w the link tahnksss

Emma reminiscing about her and chase… i don’t like it. Girl run!!

Emma and chase were on different teams?? Wdym she always votes for him? She hasn’t had a chance to? It’s just- you’d really think you’d work harder to get it right

td characters with a normal amount of fingers is weird bro

Rajie runnnn

Millie hun she said to BOLT

MILLIE YOU DO NOT DESERVE PRIYA, FIRST YOU LIE ABOUT VOTING WITH HER, THEN ISE HER TO STAY IN, THEN LET HER SAVE YOUR LITERAL LIFE ONLY TO BASICALLY SAY YOU WOULDNT DO THE SAME FOR HER

that took an interesting turn WHY IS ZEE RIZZING UP A BIRD AND WHY IS IT WORKING

okay hold on the baby bird is so cute 🥺

PRIYA DESERVES SO MUCH BETTER

you know i bet the hockey bros would be somewhat more compelling if I knew anything about hockey

WAYNE AND RAJ ARE SO WHOLESOME I LOVE THEM THEYRE SO BABYGIRL

Zee is so funny “I’m not ready for a family :/”

chase i hate you i hate you I ha

bro you had better not give her the half you dropped. you had better not try to give her that i swe

jerkface

Emma why did you kiss him he’s so crusty musty dusty

Bowie only showing concern for Raj when both Raj and Wayne are really messed up

i hope Wayne and Raj stay in the game I love them sm

I also like how this season Chef actually is the one explaining each character’s possible reasons for getting eliminated. Chris and Chef share the work a lot better now and tahts good.

The way everyone goes “WHAT” and did the head turn- that was perfect

NOOOOOOOOPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOIOOOOOOOO

NOT THE HOCKEY BROS

NOT WAYNER AND RAJIE

NOOOO

IM SO UPSET

“My dad used to drop me and my three brothers all the time! And two of us are fine!” honey I don’t think you’re one of those two…

I wish they’d bring the ship back :(

I liked the ep until chemma and then wayner and rajie left :( i loved them sm

[harringtonstilinski]

Always The Babysitter - Chapter Two: The Weirdo on Maple Street ; Teaser

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Steve Harrington x Olivia Henderson(OC) (eventually) Word Count: 623 Warnings: none A/N: Hi, friends! It’s been a while, and I know I’ve left you hanging and I’m incredibly sorry about it. We’ve done a poll on when I should start posting and the majority of y’all said ... STRANGER THINGS DAY! I hope this continues to make y’all excited for this series. If you are, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

“You okay?” Steve asked.

I hummed, and looked up at him. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Looking back at the sliding glass doors, I sighed. “Sister instinct is kicking in. I wanna make sure she’s okay.”

Before he could give his answer, if he even wanted to give me an answer, we both turned at the sound of someone squealing. My question was answered before I could even think of the question; Tommy pushed Carol in the pool, who said, “Oh, my god. What the hell, Tommy?”

He jumped in after her as Steve put his arm around my shoulders, guiding me slowly to the edge of the pool before pushing both Nancy and I in. When I came back up for air, I looked at Steve, and watched as he jumped in.

When he surfaced, I splashed water at him, exclaiming, “I’m gonna kill you!”

He splashed me back, and it felt like old times; us playing in the pool… before he remembered that Nancy was in the pool, too. As they were having their fun, I got out, announcing that I was going to get us all some towels.

After I had gone inside to retrieve the towels, I wrapped up in mine, checking on Barb, who seemed to be doing okay.

“I just… really want to go home,” she said.

“I’ll take you home, don’t worry,” I said, rubbing her arm. “That is after I put on some dry clothes.” I chuckled, but it didn’t seem to reach her ears, so I walked to the back patio, putting the towels on one of the chairs.

When everyone else got out and wrapped up in their towels, we headed back inside, where Carol said that she was freezing, and Tommy mentioned that Steve’s parents had a fireplace in their bedroom.

“You’re cleaning the sheets,” Steve said. Walking to Nancy, he asked, “You alright?”

She answered that she was as he walked over to me.

“I’m sure you can still fit in the clothes you left here,” he said.

“I haven’t really grown since freshman year, so I think I might,” I chuckled.

Steve and I went up to his bedroom when I heard Barb holler for Nancy. I’m not sure what they talked about, and to be honest, I really didn’t care. I just wanted out of these freezing ass clothes.

I looked around Steve’s room as I walked in, smiling a little to myself. “Hasn’t changed a bit.”

Steve shrugged. “Eh. There’s a new poster.”

“Doesn’t count,” I said, moving to the dresser drawer that had my clothes in it. I grabbed a pair of pants, not really feeling the shirts I had in there. I closed that drawer and went to the closet, turning on the light. “I’m borrowing a shirt.”

“You never returned my others,” he said.

I turned my head, seeing him standing at the open closet door. “Give a girl a break. They’re comfortable.” Since my undergarments were soaked as well, I went back to my drawer, grabbing a bra and a pair of panties before moving back to the closet to change.

Once I was finished, I walked out, seeing Nancy looking at Steve with bedroom eyes, taking off her shirt. “Nice,” I whispered, quickly walking out of the bedroom. Going to the kitchen, I was fully intending on making myself a glass of water and a quick sandwich to eat before taking Barb and Nancy back home.

As I was eating my sandwich and sipping on my water, I noticed that the lights flickered on and off. It was more of a blink and you’ll miss it type of flicker. What’s crazy is I thought I heard screaming, but I guessed that was just my imagination.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! i hope y’all liked this, and it got y’all excited for always the babysitter. i’m working as hard as i can on it. again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Note: stranger things day is going to be lit this year! i’m so freaking excited! gives me a little over three months to get the rest of the series written, proofread while drafting and then posting! i’m so excited!

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​​​ @stixnstripesworld​​​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​​​ @quanticobae​​​ @mischiefandi​​​ @kellyashcroft​​​ @lauren-novak​​​​

Always The Babysitter Taglist: none yet!

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on July 15, 2023

[thedreamsofgods]

sorry to pop on here like this but i've a question:

have you read Bent Heavens by Daniel Kraus?!? because that was the first book that i ever read that could be called horror and after the torture and reveal scenes i was shooketh! i didn't even get to talk about it with anyone.

if Bent Heavens is NOT the book you had to read then i desperately want to know what other 'alien torture- oops no actually it was human torture' book there is because that plot is insane to me

again, sorry to just come here unannounced but i saw your tags and i am very very curious.

have a nice day, pip-pip!

YEAH THAT WAS THE BOOK! I got really excited to see it in your poll! I'm really foggy on most of the details since it's been over a decade but I'm definitely going to scrounge up a copy to read again as an adult now, that reveal just sits with me with how it was done

I'm glad to have you pop by though! I hope you have a good day too!

[floralcyanide]

𝑺𝒂𝒚 𝒀𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏 ⚡️ 𝑬𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒔 𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓!𝑨𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝑩𝒖𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒓

Part One

Austin Butler x Reader

You have the opportunity to see the dazzling Austin Butler, a world-renown Elvis impersonator, live and in action. You become enthralled with him, becoming an avid fan and attending every convention and tribute concert he attends. Very quickly, you become a favorite in the crowd of Austin's. But will it go any farther than being just a fan? Or will you stay the person in the crowd who always gets a kiss and a scarf? (Will eventually have smut. Takes place in the mid-2000s) (Y/BF/N = Your best friend’s name.)

warnings: mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, kissing. nothing else, really.

word count: 2049

author's note: so I got an idea the other day and decided I needed to write it immediately. special thanks to Ally, @elvisabutler for confirming that this idea needed to be posted for the world to see. thanks everyone for responding to my poll btw! it was to see how many people would likely read this. this is the first part, so nothing too exciting happens quite yet, but I hope you all enjoy (: (I wrote this in like, 2 hours but wanted to post it asap so if it's dull I'm so sorry lol)

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

“I got the tickets!” 

You lay the book you were reading down in your lap, raising an eyebrow at your roommate and best friend, Y/BF/N, “Tickets for what?”

You’re curled up in a chair in the sunroom, reading one of your favorite books. You’re off work this weekend and didn’t have much else to do. Y/BF/N had gone out to run errands for the day. You wonder when they had time to get tickets for whatever or wherever.

“The Elvis Impersonator Convention, silly!” Y/BF/N says, plopping down in the chair beside you and shoving one ticket in your face.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” you ask boredly, eyes nearly crossing at the proximity of the slip of paper to your face.

Y/BF/N rolls their eyes, “You’re going too.”

“I probably have to work, plus, I don’t really dig impersonators that much,” you make a face as you pick up your book to resume reading.

“Trust me, I made sure you don’t have to work that day. And you never know, you might like it! There are some hot ones,” Y/BF/N giggles.

You peer over the top of your book at them, narrowing your eyes as you ponder it. It’d get you out of the house for once. If it was a Saturday, none of your shows came on TV that day, so nothing else would occupy you. With a sigh, you close your book and look over at Y/BF/N.

“Fine. When is it?” 

“Tomorrow!”

“You’re kidding. Tomorrow? How on earth did you manage to get tickets so last minute? Especially at a big convention?” you ask, appalled.

“I’m a big Elvis fan, remember? I have my ways,” Y/BF/N grins.

You’re a big Elvis fan, too. It’s just the impersonators aren’t really your thing. And big events aren’t really your thing, either. So tomorrow is going to be interesting for you.

“Yeah, you and your ‘connections,’” you roll your eyes, motioning quotation marks as you speak.

“Exactly. Now, let’s pick out an outfit. It’s gonna be comfortable temperature-wise tomorrow, so keep that in mind,” Y/BF/N says, getting up from the chair. 

“Alright,” you shrug, getting up and sitting your book down in your chair. 

You follow your roommate down the hall to your bedrooms. If you’re honest, you don’t know what to wear. You want to look nice but also be comfortable. You wander over to your closet and flick through your clothes, spotting a dress you’ve yet to wear. It was a secondhand dress you got from a vintage thrift store, and it looks like it’s from the 60s or 70s, perhaps. It’s a soft pastel color with white details. The above knee-length dress is the only decent thing to wear, plus it’s kind of on theme. You find some white Keds to wear with the dress, quickly deciding that heels or uncomfortable shoes are a no-go. 

Y/BF/N knocks briefly before barging into your room, “Did you find anything yet?”

“Yes, and thank you for knocking,” you say sarcastically.

“I wanna see!”

You show them the dress and shoes, and they nod in approval, “I’m wearing some bell bottoms and a white button-up. Simple yet effective.”

“Sounds good. Not sure what I’m gonna do with my hair, though. Maybe curlers?” you think out loud.

“You would look so cute with some body in your hair, for sure,” your roommate smiles.

“Thanks. Now that we’ve got our clothes settled, what time are we leaving tomorrow?”

“It starts at seven, and I want to walk around to look at merchandise and maybe get food or a drink beforehand, so I want to get there at five. And it’s an hour away, so we’ll leave at maybe near four o’clock?”

You take a moment to process your best friend’s train of thought, then nod in agreement, “That works.”

“Awesome,” Y/BF/N claps, “Let’s get started on dinner?”

That night, you sort of struggle to fall asleep. You won’t admit it to your best friend, but you’re a tad excited. You’ve never been to a convention of any sort, let alone an Elvis one. And you love Elvis, so it will hopefully be a pretty cool experience. 

You’re standing off the side of the line at a food truck, waiting for Y/BF/N to finish ordering. You can’t help but hum to A Little Less Conversation, the last song on the Elvis CD you and your best friend played in the car before getting out. Admittedly, you’re distracted and not really paying attention as you study an interesting painting of Elvis at a merch booth nearby. Before you know it, someone runs into you accidentally.

“Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention like I should’ve been,” the man who bumped into you says.

He has jet-black hair and blue eyes, just like Elvis. From how he’s dressed, you’d say he’s an impersonator. He’s not in costume but rather in a lace shirt and colorful pants. It’s something Elvis would’ve worn, for sure. 

“You’re fine! I also wasn’t paying much attention,” you chuckle, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” the man smiles, subtly taking you in from head to toe.

“Sure,” you smile politely with a nod, and the man turns around and walks away.

“Who was that?” Y/BF/N asks as they approach you, food in hand.

“I’m not sure. Maybe an impersonator?”

“I didn’t see his face, so I’m unsure. I guess we’ll find out,” your best friend shrugs, grabbing a fry and offering it to you.

“I’m good, thanks,” you say.

“Where to next?”

The afternoon turns into evening, and you’re now sitting in your seat next to Y/BF/N with an alcoholic beverage in your hand. You’re front row, much to your shock. There’s a plastic bag with some new t-shirts and various merchandise items you bought stuffed under the seat. You’re anxious for the show to start and excited to see the different performers come on stage. Yeah, impersonators aren’t your forte like your best friend, but their costumes and song choices are always interesting to you.

The lights dim, and everyone begins to cheer as the first performer enters the stage dressed as 50s Elvis Presley. He’s pretty young, probably a teenager. He starts with Hound Dog, plays a few other older Elvis songs with his guitar, and waves goodbye to the crowd with a gracious smile. A few people toss roses and teddy bears onto the stage. You’re impressed with his performance and give Y/BF/N a look of approval as you sip your drink.

“That was Alex. He’s like, fifteen I think? He’s been impersonating since he was a kid,” your best friend says, “He’s getting so good that everyone wants him to perform at their parties and weddings.”

“Impressive,” you nod, “Fifteen, you say? That’s wild.”

An older man takes the stage, dressed in a Blue Hawaii outfit. He strums his ukelele as the band starts up behind him. He energetically sings some of the songs from Blue Hawaii, and you’re dancing along with the crowd. You’re having so much fun and are excited to see your favorite era soon. 70s Elvis. There’s something about the hair and the tight jumpsuit that gets to you. You swirl ice around in your drink, getting slightly distracted at the thought of Vegas Era Elvis.

“That was Steve,” Y/BF/N yells over the commotion of clapping, “Mom dated him for a little while, actually.”

You chuckle, “Of course she did. He was pretty good!”

A very tall man in the ‘68 Comeback leather suit makes his way to center stage as he sings the songs from the Special. His performance of Memories was spot-on, and you couldn’t help but sing along. After he finishes his last song and leaves, someone comes on stage and announces a “special guest” named Austin Butler, and the crowd erupts. You look around, confused.

“Who’s that?” you furrow your eyebrows, elbowing your best friend in their side to get their attention.

“Oh my god, no way! They didn’t have him on the roster! Austin Butler is, like, the best impersonator in the world, no exaggeration.”

“Really?” you shout over the crowd, “Is he cute?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Y/BF/N says, “He’s around thirty like us.”

Before you can respond, the lights dim, and the intro music begins. You can vaguely see Austin enter the stage in the dark, shaking himself out before the lights come on. He’s in the iconic white jumpsuit, and it hugs him everywhere it needs to. You squint at his face, realizing he’s the guy that bumped into you earlier.

“That’s the guy who I was talking to earlier,” you shout in Y/BF/N’s ear.

“No way, are you serious?” they gasp.

You nod.

“Did you get his number?” they yell.

You shake your head, and your best friend frowns momentarily before going back to cheering.

The notes of C. C. Rider begin to blend into the music as Austin bounces his leg, his eyes scanning through the crowd. He begins to sing, and god, he sounds just like Elvis. He looks fairly similar to him, too, with the sideburns added to his look since earlier. Girls begin flooding the barrier to the stage, reaching their hands out to the impersonator. Y/BF/N grabs your wrist, dragging you toward them.

“Are you crazy?” you ask, trying not to panic at the thought of being right up front.

Yeah, you’re already at the very front, but not so close that the stage is right there at you. 

“Of course! Come on!”

You reluctantly let them drag you up front and center as you down the rest of your drink. The two of you fight to the makeshift barricade, your best friend gleaming at Austin. You can't help but laugh at them and their excitement, but you quickly turn your head back to the stage as Austin stands right before you. He starts to sing Polk Salad Annie, and the women around you go nuts. You do, too, admittedly. You begin dancing to the music and screaming the lyrics like a crazed fan. Chills cover your body at the energy Austin is putting off in his voice. You decide you absolutely must see him do a complete set.

Austin pauses his singing for a moment, talking to the crowd. 

“How are y'all doin’ tonight?” 

Everyone cheers and whistles, clapping as well. 

“Good, good. I see a lot of pretty women out there tonight,” Austin winks, and the girls around you squeal.

“This next one is called Wonder of You.”

Austin walks along the stage, singing his heart out as he wipes his sweat with the various scarves around his neck. It’s kind of gross, but you also find it somewhat attractive. A part of you hopes he hands some of the scarves out. And then he does. Austin leans down and kisses an older woman on the cheek, wrapping a baby pink scarf around her neck. She’s so delighted even after he pulls away. 

Y/BF/N nudges you, “You should try and get one!”

You shake your head, “I am not doing that.” You definitely want to, though. But knowing many people would be staring at you makes you nervous.

Austin makes his way to the center stage where you and your best friend are, and he gets down on one knee, singing right to you. You’re looking directly up at him, eyes full of wonder as you stare into his bright baby blues. Austin leans forward, placing a pastel scarf that matches your dress around your shoulders, pulling you toward him for a quick kiss right on the lips. You blush as the alcohol starts kicking in full force, wiping your nose that got a bit of his sweat on it. You fight the giant smile that fights its way to your face as Austin gets up to finish the song. 

“Oh my god,” Y/BF/N screeches, “He kissed you!”

“I know,” you say, brushing your fingertips along your lips.

Was it so wrong that you wouldn’t have minded if the kiss was a little longer? 

taglist:

@anangelwhodidntfall @butlersluvbot @austinbutler17 @mamaspresley @mirandastuckinthe80s @sodonebruh @lizzymizzy-blogg @defnotreadingfanfics12 @izzvoid @homebodybirkin2003 @thatonemoviefan @kittenlittle24 @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @amiets2 @mrs-butler @ari-nicole @austin-butlers-gf @feral4austinbutler @inlovewithchrisevans @shynovelist @mommy-maia @karamelcoveredolicity @thtguyovrthere @starry-night-20 @coldonexx @hangmanswhore @mavericksicybabe @bobthefishiesworld @myguiltypleasures21 @rainydayz101 @finelineskies @cryingabtab @kaitaesupremacy @ash-omalley @tom-whore-dleston @every-dayiwakeup @butlerslut @rosepresley @fangirl125reader @dre6ming @edgeofrealitys-blog @cobra-kaii @butlerettes

[hotcoffeetransformation]

Jason swore loudly and had to resist the urge to throw his controller down, pissed that he kept dying cause of the game's stupid glitches (Also known as own mistakes). Still, he regained his composure, and smiled before saying

"Alright chat, we're gonna finish up this one and then we're gonna move on to another game. There should be a poll on top for what we do next"

Jason was a moderately successfully game streamer, averaging about 200 to 300 viewers a night, entirely based on his wit and skill. He knew for sure that they weren't coming for his looks, given his weedy, thin frame, overly pimpled face and large, nerdy glasses. Still, it was enough for him, and he was happy with the progress that he'd made.

As Jason got himself set up for the next game, he heard a shocking sound from above him. The victory theme from one of his favorite JRPGs was blaring through the speakers, and he came up, staring at the screen in shock. He knew what that sound meant. That meant someone had tipped him one thousand dollars, completely out of nowhere.

He looked in shock at the notification on the stream, seeing that it was from someone named JockBro69, with the simple message "Can't wait to get to know you better, cutie~"

Jason was completely stunned. Not only had someone actually redeemed the donation goal that he set as a joke (That being that whoever was stupid enough to tip 1000 dollars got to have a 15 minute private chat with him), it was also someone that he'd never seen in his chat before.

Thoroughly weirded out, but knowing that he had to honor his commitment, he sent the guy a quick private message.

"Dude, I don't know how to thank you enough! Guess I'll see ya pretty soon!"

With that, he sent the man his private zoom link, and said goodbye to the chat, who were still going wild over this turn of events, before pausing,the stream and hopping over to discord for the call.

Not two seconds after his stream stopped, he got a requested video call on discord from the guy, and he opened it up, giving a second for the video to load, but when it did, he was completely dumbfounded again. He was expecting the mysterious donator to be some fat, sweaty silicon valley nerd with too much and money on his hands, but instead what met him was possibly the hottest man he's ever seen, standing up and looking down at his webcam with a friendly expression.

"Fuck, bro! Its so good to finally fucking meet you, I've been such a big fan for a long time, and this is a really big deal for me~

The man had a deep, rumbling, pleasant voice, that shot straight down Jacob's spine and left him feeling strangely... inadequate. Like the fact that his voice wasn't as smooth or melodic as this guy's was his fault, and he should be ashamed of that fact. Still, this guy was pretty pleasant to look at, Jason had to admit. He wasn't gay, definitely not, but he could acknowledge when another guy simply looked good.

Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not entirely sure of what he should do or say. Still, this guy spent 1000 dollars on this meeting, so he had to try anyway.

"So, umm.... I see your username is jockbro69... What's your actual name thought? I don't think I've ever seen you in chat before..."

The other man actually laughed at this, before looking confused and saying

"What are you talking about bro? Its me, Ethan! I'm in your chat all the time! Man, I guess what they say about playing games so much is true, huh?"

At this statement, Jason actually went pale with shock. THIS was Ethan? This was the guy who's username used to be runningLink? Who was an active fan of the zelda series, constantly begged Jason to play them, and bemoaned the fact that no would date him? It just didn't seem right...

Still, Jason, ever the semi professional, continued on, pretending that he wasn't shocked at the news.

"Well, thanks for supporting me so much! Seriously, this means a lot to me... Ummm... so I guess tell me some of your favorite things about the channel then!"

The man laughed again, the sound coming out in a slow, dumb chuckle, before saying

"What's my favorite thing? Do I even have to say, bro? Its the amazing piece of eye candy I'm looking at right now. You're super hot, bro~"

At this, Jason was shocked, but he chuckled awkwardly while blushing, and said

"Really? I don't think I've ever heard a single person say that before. I guess I consider myself slightly below average..."

The guy looked confused at that, before pressing on

"Really, bro? You look super hot to me, you got those bright, blinding blue eyes that you can just get lost in~"

At this point, Jason knew the man was just messing with him. His eyes have always, and will always be a dark, muddy brown, hidden behind his massive frames. Jason was about to respond, when Ethan continued

"Yeah, and you got that super stylish haircut too, really makes you look super masculine~"

Now Jason was REALLY confused. The guy was right, he did always get complements on his eyes, the bright, shocking blue visible and striking even through his huge glasses. But his hair was always a long, unkempt greasy mess.

"Ethan, are you sure you're okay, you're not just seeing things? Cause I don't know what you're talking about"

Ethan ignored the comment, just continuing to press on

"And you've got that hot, manly face, with your strong jaw and amazing profile"

Jason was confused again. Sure, his stylish haircut did help him look much better, but his face had always been pretty androgynous, with hints of baby fat still present in his cheeks. Again, before he could interrupt, Ethan continued,

"And you've got that smooth smooth skin, that hot stubble, that sexy smirk of yours. You're the full package bro~"

Jason laughed at this. Ethan was clearly being way too complementary. Sure his face had a great shape to it, with strong cheekbones and a square jaw, but his skin was still acne marked as hell, his smile was crooked and awkward, and he'd never been able to grow any facial hair, no matter how much he tried.

"I really have no idea what you're talking about Ethan. Sure I've got some good features, but the overall package isn't much to write home about~"

Ethan smirked again, his eyes lighting up with humor, as if he knew something I didn't.

"Nah, bro, you're underselling yourself. Plus, you've got that body~"

"What about my body? I think its pretty average, though I guess I'm a bit on the skinny side..."

Jason looked down at himself, trying to contemplate what Ethan meant. Sure, he'd been blessed with an attractive, manly face, but it didn't change the fact that his body was still below average at best.

"Again, bro! Putting yourself down. You really think those massive logs you have for arms are below average?"

Jason looked down at his skinny arms, and said

"More like logs than twigs man, seriously."

"And what about your legs? You've spent so long working on em, you've got thighs and glutes to kill for~"

Jason laughed again

"I dunno man! Most people say the exact opposite. They say I spend too much time on arms and not enough on my torso and legs. What can I say though? I love having big, beefy arms."

"Of course you do, bro? Who wouldn't? Especially when right in between em, you got your big, pillowy chest, your sexy abs, and your super toned back~"

Jason was seriously starting to wonder if Ethan was on something. Anyone could clearly see from first glance that Jason's body was badly proportioned, his arms and legs being massive from months to years of work, while he neglected his back, pecs and ab muscles. Still, he thought he looked pretty alright honestly.

"And I especially love how you're not only super sexy, you know it and flaunt it~ I don't think I've ever seen you once wear a shirt. The most you'll wear is a necklace, and even then, not like that covers anything, bro~ Only makes you look sexier"

Now here Jason had to disagree. He knew that he had cultivated and developed an amazing body over his years of going to the gym, but that was all for his own personal satisfaction. He never flaunted it unnecessarily, especially not during a stream.

"And I love the fact that you're such a fucking bro, bro. Every other word out of your mouth is bro and dude, you can't go even five minutes without flexing and thinking of fucking, or going to the gym, or hanging out with your other hot bros. We all know that your brain is basically only good for working out and looking hot. No smart's up there. And you've got your deep, sexy voice, too. Makes it even hotter that you're a gay bro, just like me"

Jason HAD to laugh at that. What the guy was saying was just so ridiculous.

"What the hell are you talking about? Look, I know that I like to show off my sexy body a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm some kind of dumb jock. And I'm definitely straight, dude. Don't know why you'd think I'm gay"

Ethan pressed on, completely unabashed by Jason's last comments.

"But you know the best fucking part, bro? Its that power of yours. The fact that any weak ass nerd who looks at you and your huge fucking muscles grows into a hot, dumb bro like us within seconds~"

Jason was busy flexing, staring at his own bicep in awe, as if he was shocked by him impressive he was. He looked up at Ethan blearily, saying

"Sorry, bro, what'd you say? I guess I got a bit fucking distracted. Huhuhu. But who could blame me~"

"Nah, it was nothing bro. You don't need to worry about it. Now should head back to the stream?"

Jason gasped in excitement, having forgotten entirely about the fact that there was a whole stream audience full of lame ass nerds, just ready for him to make as sexy as he and Ethan were.

"You got it bro~ This is gonna be so fucking hot~"

Jason left the call, going back to the stream and restarting, glad to see that a full 300 people were still watching, even through the extended break. The second he turned his camera on, he could see that people were confused for some reason, saying a stranger broke into his house. How stupid could these people be? How did they not recognize him? Still, not like it would matter for long...

"Hey bros! How're we all fucking doing? Welcomes to today's stream..."

He trailed off, looking blankly at the camera, before saying

"You know what? Fuck video games! Who needs them when you can do this~"

And as his pecs bounced and bounced hypnotically, the chat slowly transitioned from messages like "What the fuck is happening?" or "Who is this dumb jock?" to "Fuck, bro! Your pecs look so fucking hot today!" and "Huhuhu, I love making my pecs bounce like Jace's~"

And so the stream continued, Jace showing everyone all the amazing things his body could do, while anyone that was watching, whether they wanted to or not, began to copy him exactly. And as the stream went on, the viewer count rose, and rose, and rose...

[starsandsoulmates]

Bedwars God

Dream x Reader

Request - So this is a dream x reader in real life the reader is a Minecraft youtuber, so I want their personality based off of LDshadowlady, basically like a soft girl, very friendly that can build cute stuff but know hot to pvp etc etc. And dream is like the biggest simp every. Anyways hope you have a good day bai bai

Summary - You are a twitch streamer and Dream donates to you asking for a 1v1.

Word Count - 1.6k

A/N - I’m a little bit rusty with my writing skills but I hope that you guys enjoy this! Keep the requests coming in so I can keep working on my characterizations!

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When the Twitter notification had popped up, you honestly hadn’t been expecting it. You stared for a few moments at it before it fully registered. Dream, the Dream, had just followed you on Twitter, the manhunt, Dream smp, Dream. After a brief moment of intense freaking out, you decided to draft a tweet, and a  few failed attempts later you finally sent the tweet.

@yourtwitterhandle

Dream followed me so I’m basically in the big leagues now. I’ll remember all of you once I’m famous. 😎

You smiled a little and scrolled through the replies of your fans freaking out about this news. They honestly were almost as excited as you were about this new development.  

Dream had been a huge inspiration to you when you had started streaming only a few months ago. Seeing the success he was able to achieve just by having fun with his friends was enough to push you into finally pressing the start stream button on Twitch. Of course, it had been a rocky start but now you had gained a following and were averaging about 10,000 viewers per stream. Your streams consisted of anything from Bedwars to building on your Minecraft world that you started the day you started streaming.

After a bit more time of scrolling through the replies on your tweet, you decided to finally get up and start to set up your stream for the day. You sent a quick tweet about streaming in 20 minutes and started to get ready. You checked all of your devices to make sure that they were running properly before turning on the stream starting soon screen. The chat exploded to life when the stream went online. It was filled with hellos and disbelief about the Dream follow. You giggled a little as you read through the chat before unmuting your mic for a moment.

“Hey guys just finishing up setting some things and I will be on. I’m going to drop a poll in chat on what you guys wanna see today,” You said happily as you booted up Minecraft.

You muted the mic again and started the poll before turning back to opening up Minecraft. You glanced at the poll and saw that Bedwars was winning by quite a bit so you decided to just log into Hypixel now. Once you were in the Hypixel lobby and you had nicked yourself, you finally let the stream see your screen. You turned on the camera and unmuted your mic.

“Hello, guys! How are you guys doing today,” You paused for a few moments to let your eyes roam over the chat, “I’m doing good, thank you so much for asking!”

“Okay let me do the donos I missed when I was setting up…” You read out all the donos you had missed and the gifted subs as well thanking your viewers and finally, you joined the Bedwars lobby.

“Okay so I think we are going to start off with some Bedwars today and then we can decide what to do after. How long am I going to stream?” you read from the chat, “I’m not exactly sure yet at least an hour or so we’ll see how long I can go before I get tired.”

You started to play Bedwars and got a mixed bag of good clutches and the inevitable failing at speed bridging. The stream was going perfectly with your viewers interacting with you and you having fun as well. At least until the dono came in that made you walk off the bridge you were in the middle of constructing to Blue’s base.

The monotone voice readout, “Hey, love your content we should definitely 1v1 sometime.”

The dono wasn’t particularly unusual but the fact that it was $100 and from dreamwastaken was the part that made you fall off the bridge.

“DREAM! You didn’t have to donate that much,” You paused to collect yourself and reorientate in the Bedwars game. “I would love to 1v1 you some time, I mean I think I’m pretty good at pvp but I don’t think that I’m that good at pvp.”

The chat was going absolutely insane at the dono and they were also calling the both of you simps. Dream for even donating in the first place and you for falling off the bridge when he donated.

You laughed softly at the chat, “Chat shush I am not a simp, it just caught me off guard that’s all.”

The stream from there on out was relatively normal with a few more Bedwars victories in the bag. After almost two hours of streaming, you decided to wrap up the stream.

“Okay, guys I think I need to head out and get some work done. I love you guys all so much and thank you for being here today. And an extra thank you for anyone who donated, subbed, or gifted subs. Remember to follow my Twitter it's the exact same as my twitch name. I usually announce when I’m going to stream on there as well as any other updates. Thank you guys so much and I will see you next time,” You said with a huge smile covering your face as you ended the stream after sending all of your viewers over to Tubbo who had started streaming towards the end of your stream.

Once you turned everything off and pulled up the latest video you had been editing, the notification ding distracted you away from your computer. For the second time in the day, you stared in disbelief at a Twitter notification.

Dream - Hey, I would really like to 1v1 you some time. I have been watching your content for a while now and I am a huge fan of what you make. Let me know when you want to do the 1v1. We can do it for a stream or a video. It's you to you :)

You - It means so much to me that you have been liking my content, I am a huge fan of yours as well. I am honestly free pretty much whenever. I need to make a new video so if you want to record a couple of rounds of pvp and maybe some bedwars with me then I can upload it to my channel.

Dream - Yeah that sounds good, I am actually free right now if you wanna hop on Hypixel and record now?

You - Yeah that sounds good I just sent you a discord friend request.

Your hands were practically shaking as you booted Minecraft back up. Dream was going to make a video with you. You were going to play with Dream. Your anxiety was only heightened when Dream accepted your friend request and added you into a VC. You took a slow breath and clicked on the VC and joined.

“H-hello,” You stuttered out softly as you tried to calm your nerves.

“Hey! Sorry if this seems out of the blue I really have been a fan for a while and I thought a 1v1 challenge would be fun,” Dream said and you could practically hear the smile in his voice.

“It’s fine, I just didn’t expect it. Like I said, I’m a huge fan so I’m just a bit shocked,” You chuckled a little feeling your nerves relax, “I’m on Hypixel now if you wanna get on, I say we do some 1v1s first.”

“Sounds good, are you recording now?” Dream asked as you glanced down at your recording software.

“Yep, but don’t worry I’ll send you the video before I post it so you can make sure you don’t mind any clips that I add,” you said as his character in the game ran towards you.

“You ready?” Dream asked with a smirk in his voice.

“Don’t get cocky yet green man, you’re going down,” You quipped back.

You and Dream 1v1ed a total of 11 times with Dream winning 6 and you winning the other 5.

“I told you not to be too cocky,” you giggled as he yelled about how you had managed to beat him 5 whole times.

“No! I only challenged you because I thought I would destroy you,” He said jokingly with a loud laugh accompanying the statement.

You laughed as well before rolling your eyes, “I told you not to get too cocky Dream, now let’s play some bedwars because I am going to destroy you.”

Dream scoffed a little and joined the party you had created. The beginning had been a little awkward but now the two of you were slowly falling into a rhythm. You started to feel more and more comfortable with the man and the teasing had only been heightened. The taunts during the bedwars game had both of you in stitches with Dream’s iconic kettle laugh only making you laugh that much harder.

“Oh sorry did my beauty distract you?” You laughed as you watched Dream fall off of his bridge.

“Oh shut up,” Dream countered weakly which only served to make you laugh that much harder.

The two of you ended up playing 4 rounds of Bedwars with Dream winning only a single round. He had raged for a few minutes after you had finished up the final round.

“Sorry Dream but Bedwars is my territory. You should have known better than to play with me,” You said with a huge smile.

“Oh come on, you were definitely using hacks. That was like a 1 in 7.5 trillion chance,” Dream said which sent you and consequently him into a fit of laughter.

“You’re so stupid,” You said with a smile before turning off the recording software. “Thank you for playing with me today, it’s always good to help people practice their bedwars skills.”

“You’re so annoying,” Dream whined before chuckling softly. “But yeah I had a really good time today, we definitely need to do this again.”

[cuddlesslut]

Part Eight: Hope

Atsumu x fem reader , Suna x fem Reader, Hinata x Fem reader

A/N: I’m so sorry it took so long to put out this chapter I’m gunna try to do better on posting faster. I’ve had a lot of stuff happening irl. I love see so many of your write in for the poll 😂 I did not expect Sakusa to pop off! I hope y’all like this chapter. Again it’s still kind of short but I wanted to get it posted. Also you can’t convince me Hinata doesn’t use an all in one cleanser!

Warning: crude language, not much angst, some fluff.

Part Seven: Regrets

Hinata stared at his phone questioning whether he should message you again. It had been four days since you ran out of his apartment. You had yet to respond to any of his texts. As concerned as he is he knows no good will come from spamming you. Although he wants nothing more than for you too talk to him. He was so confused where you both stood. But he was sure of one thing, and that was that things couldn’t go back to the way they were before. He can’t go back to pushing down his feelings and pretending he doesn’t want to be more. That he didn’t want to call you his and show you off to the world. To take you out on dates try new experiences and make memories with you. He can’t keep acting like he doesn’t dream of waking up to you in his arms every morning. He wants to be there with you every step in life and support you no matter what. He wants to show you that you are the most amazing woman he’s ever known. As much as the sex is amazing it’s not worth holding back anymore. He knows you may still not be ready for a relationship and he wouldn’t think about pressuring you into one after how horribly your last ended, he’d gladly wait for you to be ready but he has to be honest with his feelings instead of torturing himself.

The sound of his alarm snapped him out of his daze. Time to get ready for practice, he groaned pulling himself from the comfort of his bed before heading to the shower to start his day. He shuffled in the bathroom hooking up his phone to his Bluetooth speaker starting up with morning playlist beginning his morning routine. He loved jamming in the shower. He turned the water on letting the heat build as he brushed his teeth before climbing into the steaming shower bopping his head to the beat of silhouette by Kana-boon having to refrain himself from attempting to naruto running in the slippery bath. He stood there for a moment enjoying the heat hitting his back and loosening his muscles. Losing himself in the music as he grabbed his three in one, body wash, shampoo and conditioner. He scrubbed his hair and body screaming the lyrics to the next song. “Sawaras nai kimi wa shojo wa na no Boku wa yarichinbitchi no osu da yo !!,” he was jamming out when the song was interrupted by the sound of a notification. He thought nothing of it figuring it was just Bokuto-San. When the chimes continue his curiosity won out as he peeked out passed the curtain still covered in bubbles to see who was spamming his phone. His eyes grew wide as he saw your name lighting up his notifications. He rushed for his phone loosing his balance and slamming the shower wall to keep himself from falling on his ass as he scrambled out still dripping and soapy as he stood in bathroom unlocking his phone.

YN-Chan 🧡: Hey Shoyo

YN-Chan🧡: you’re usually up by now so I thought I’d message you to say I’m soo soo sorry for how I ran out the other day.

YN-Chan🧡: honestly I should have messaged you days ago but I’ve just been dealing with a lot . It’s no excuse but still I’m sorry.

YN-Chan 🧡: look I totally understand if you don’t want talk to me after how I acted but if you do I was hoping we could get together and talk?

Hinata could see the text bubble at the bottom showing she was typing but he wasted no time pulling up the call button needing to here your voice. It rang two times before connecting. His heart clinched hearing your soft hello.

“Hey Sho,” you answered.

“Hey there YN-Chan,” he greeted back.

He could here a sense of nervousness in your tone. “Hey sorry if interrupted anything.” He realized how hard he was breathing from excitement and from nearly dying trying to escape his shower.

“Oh no no, its fine I wasn’t busy,” he feigned nonchalance. There was a beat of silence as you both searched for words.

“Umm you had said you wanted to talk?” He questioned. He was really concerned for why you ran off that day.

“Oh yeah but I’d much rather talk in person, is there anyway we could get together soon I understand if you’re busy,”

“I’m free tonight,” he cursed himself for how desperate he sounded, “uhh do you want to come over tonight?”

You chuckled at his eagerness. “If it’s okay with you maybe we could go out... to like dinner maybe,” his heart froze his mind reeling with excitement you had never gone out before. Always just opting to have food delivered and eating in. He couldn’t help but let his hopes rise.

“I know it’s not what we usually do so I get if you’re uncomfor-”

“I’d love to!” He cuts you off. Not wanting to miss this chance.

“A-awesome um is 7:30 good for you?” You questioned.

“Yep!” He could feeling his heart soaring as the plans started to solidify.

“Great well I’ll message you all of the details later, bye Sho umm I’ll see you tonight.”

“Goodbye YN-Chan, can’t wait!” He heard a small laugh leave your lips before the line disconnected. There is a wide smile spread across his face as leaning against the wall next to him not even upset that his shower water was now starting to run cold.

Hinata’s day was instantly better with thought of seeing you tonight the Idea of having a date with you filled him with joy. Everyone could see the difference in the outside hitter today compared to the last few practices. It’s was like he was in the zone. He was all over the court making the cleanest receives and his spikes were just so on point. It was time for there first water break and stretch. He sat on the bench taking a gulp of water a big smile present on his face when he checks his phone to see a message with a restaurant address. His teammates shared a look at the way the ginger stared at his phone.

“What’s got you so happy Hinata?” Sakusa questioned.

“Yeah Sho you’ve been on fire today plus you won’t stop smiling at your phone!” Bokuto boasted wrapping an arm around his newest teammate.

“That obvious huh?” Hinata grinned. “Well uhh the girl I’ve been talking to wants to go on a date tonight!”

“Oh yeah?” Atsumu smirked “the same girl that’s been marking up yer back recently?” Bokuto and the Setter busted into laughter when Hinata’s faced turned red. Sakusa rolled his eye at the childish behavior.

“Uh haha yeah that’s the one,” he chuckled rubbing the back of his head.

“Well if you’re already fuckin her why are you getting all giddy over a date?” The setter asked

“We’ve actually never been on date before,” Hinata admitted.

“Damn Sho, first date! Why’d you wait so long dude?” Bo wondered.

“Really Hinata-Kun I didn’t take you for the casual sex type,” Sakusa stated

“She’s a friend but I’ve like her pretty much since we met but she’s just not ready for a relationship,” he explains “ she has some bad history but we kept fooling around as friends. I’m so excited cause she asked if I wanted to get dinner so I’m hoping maybe she’s starting to open up to the idea.”

“Ha well good luck then bro,” Bokuto smacked him on the back laughing. The rest of them agreed in the well wishes before the whistle blew signaling the end of their break.

They resumed their intense training. Right now focusing on their serves and some indurance training. The coaches were wearing them out today going over and over drills. Soon enough they were in the locker room showering up a bit and changing as they got ready for their lunch break before they’d have to return to practice. The locker room filled with chatter as they discussed different plays they wanted to work on or where they wanted to grab lunch. There conversation was interrupted when one of the coaching assistants poked their head in.

“Miya-San your fiancé is here to see you, she waiting by the gym entrance.” He stated before turning to leave. All eyes were on the setter when he dropped his phone a look of shock present on his face. His mind was going a mile a minute he was so sure he miss heard the man . There was no way you were here. He stood up rushing to finish getting dressed. There was a pressure in the room he was ignoring some of his teammates sharing a confused look.

“I didn’t know you had a Fiancé Tsumu?” Hinata asked excitedly as the team started following behind the setter.

“That’s because he doesn’t,” Sakusa stated bitterly. Atsumu shot a dirty look back at the wing spiker.

“She left him months ago before you joined the team Shoyo-Kun, she’s are really nice girl though always brought us the best snacks when she’d visit,” Bokuto explained his hungry mind straying as he thought back to her delicious cooking.

“Oh I’m sorry Atsumu,” Hinata apologized.

“Don’t he deserved it,” Sakusa scoffed.

The setter paid no mind to comment there was no point in getting angry with the neat freak he was completely right. It didn’t matter at the moment what mattered was seeing you. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing there. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. You were looking at your hands picking at your nails. He could see you were nervous. So was he. What was he supposed to say he knew he owed you an apology and much more but it felt like he couldn’t breath looking at you. You looked up at him your eyes locking. There was a look he couldn’t quite pin point. It wasn’t exactly a look of hated which it was what he expected but it also nothing like the looks of love he used to receive. He didn’t even realize the boys had stopped behind him watching the scene. His eyes only focused on you and nothing else.

That is until he hears a sharp breath from behind him as Hinata called out your name. Bokuto and Sakusa’s eyes snapped to the ginger some confusion present. Atsumu however didn’t look away from you not even when you gaze shifted from the setter to his teammate. This look in your eyes he could distinguish. It was one you used to look at him with. It shattered Atsumu as he realized right then you were the woman Hinata had been talking about. It obvious when he saw a similar look of happiness on Shoyo’s face. It felt like a kick to the gut. An array of emotions swirling through his mind. He was hurt to think you moved on. Disgusted as he thought back to his earlier convo with the man and how they had discussed the scratches on his friends back and now realizing how they were from you. He felt like he was going to puke thinking of his teammate with you in that intimate way. But he knew he had no right to feel this way not after all he put you through so he pushed those emotions deep inside. Returning to the moment.

“Hi Sho,” you gave a small smile as you shuffled nervously in your spot.

“I thought we were getting dinner? We can switched to lunch if you need to tho.” He stated.

Sakusa and Bokutos eyes grew wide finally coming to the same conclusion the setter previously had. Sakusa had to stifle a laugh as Bo muttered “oh shit” under his breath at the awkward situation.

“Um actually Shoyo, I’d still like to get dinner with you. I know this must seem really confusing, and I promise to explain everything tonight, but uhh.. I actually here to see Miya-San.” You explain sheepishly.

Atsumu tried not to flinch at the use of his last name.

You turned to the blonde with a stoic face. “Can we get lunch, we really need to talk.” He nodded not knowing how to use his voice.

You turned back to Hinata with a pleasing look. “I’ll call you later before our date, Sho.” Before turning to leave with Tsumu.

Hinata may be beyond confused right now not yet connecting the dots. But that didn’t matter he couldn’t stop his heart from skipping. Date. It’s a date. He wasn’t overthinking or wishing hopefully. It was an actual date with you! The woman he can’t get out of his mind. And that one little comfort was enough for him to trust the situation as he watched you walk away.

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