#let's pretend it's after the festival ok? ok

[do-it-jakey-baby]

Fourth of July

Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Synopsis: Sam hated you, it was evident in the way that he spoke to you every time you saw him, but one Fouth of July weekend, everything changes.

Warnings: smut, adult themes, unprotected sex, enemies to lovers, profanity, drinking, mean Sam, soft Sam

18+, MINORS DNI

Your tyres crunched along the gravel as you navigated across the parking lot, until you found the perfect wide space for your Land Rover Defender. You parked up, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and making your way to the trunk. You open it up, your furry little companion barking with excitement, scrunching his nose and panting.

“Hey, boy! Ready for a weekend of adventure?” You giggle, ruffling the curls on the top of his head. He jumps down from the car and runs alongside you, looking up every so often to make sure you’re still there. You’re back in Michigan for the Fourth of July weekend, celebrating as usual with your best friends at a cabin your rent every year for the festivities. As you round the corner, you spot a familiar face. Sighing, you prepare yourself for whatever he has in store for you today. He’s bent down, picking up crates of beer to take into the cabin, but peers up as he hears your boots traipsing through the stony ground.

“What are you doing here?” He rolls his eyes, pushing his hair back as it falls around his face.

“I come here every year, Sam. You know that.” You frown, already finding his presence unbearable.

“Just thought you might be busy this year.” He mumbles.

“Well I’m not. Would it kill you to not be a total jackass for like, five minutes?” You throw your hands up, exasperated. This wasn’t how you wanted your weekend to begin, especially after the week from hell you’d just endured.

“That wouldn’t be very me of me, would it?” He scoffs, smirking slightly.

“No, it certainly would not.”

He cocks his head to the side, still sporting that infuriating smirk. “What, no smartass remark?”

You sigh, rubbing your hand across your forehead. “I don’t have the energy for you today, Sam. Why don’t you just pretend like I’m not here, avoid me and I’ll avoid you.”

His smirk suddenly vanishes from his face, replaced with an expression you can’t quite read. He stands, taking a step towards you.

“You ok?”

You recoil slightly, taking a step back and almost tripping over your dog. “Yes. Fine. I’ll be better when you leave me alone. Where are your brothers, anyway?” You tap your fingers impatiently against your thigh, wanting nothing more than for this conversation to end. Your eyes scan the front of the cabin, finding no one else’s presence.

“Inside setting up. Why, you trying to ditch me already?”

You scoff, your arms raising from your sides to cross over the front of your torso. “Ditch you? Sam, we never speak, let alone hang out together. You literally just asked me why I’m even here. So yeah, I’m looking for your brothers because they actually like me.”

He just stands there, staring at you with the same expression painted on his face. You raise your eyebrows at him, confusion taking hold at his out-of-character behaviour. In the 6 years you’ve known him, he’s never once asked you if you’re ok. He doesn’t take an interest in you, and is never nice.

“I’m really not in the mood for this today. Please, can we not do this.”

He looks momentarily defeated, but quickly shakes it off with a shrug of his shoulders. He bends back down, picking up the crate of beer. Thank god for that. You take that as the end of the conversation, so move past him quickly and turn the handle to the door of the cabin, letting yourself in.

“Honey, I’m home!” You call out into the foyer. It only takes a fleeting moment for a mess of dark brown curls to round the corner, running directly to you and lifting you up into his toned arms.

“Peach!” He hollers at you, spinning you around.

“Daniel! Careful of Hendrix!” You giggle, holding onto his shoulders tightly.

He puts you down, placing a kiss to your cheek, then bends down to fuss over your dog.

“Henny, my man! You’re just as handsome as the last time I saw you, buddy!”

Hendrix wastes no time flopping down onto his back, showcasing his tummy eagerly. Danny obliges, giving plenty of loving pets.

“When did you get here?”

He looks up at you from the floor, still running his hands over Hendrix’s fluffy coat. “Like, twenty minutes ago? Got unloaded pretty quickly. Sam is just helping Jake fill up the bar, fuck knows where Josh is.”

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” You grin, watching as Josh enters the room, his arms outstretched to you.

“Beautiful girl, how are you?” He coos into your ear as he envelopes you in a bear hug.

“Could be better, but let’s not fixate on that. I’m here to have a good time with my best friends.”

“But we can talk about it at some point right?” He pulls back slightly, giving you a concerned look.

“Maybe, but not now. Please.”

Just like always, your saving grace plods into the room. Jake pushes the sunglasses that are sat low on his nose up into his hair, smiling brightly at you.

“I thought I felt the temperature raise, the sunshine has returned. Hi, sugar.” He places his hands onto your shoulders, giving you the once over before kissing your cheek softly.

“Hi Jacob.” You giggle, scrunching your nose.

Suddenly, the atmosphere changes. You look up to see Sam stood in the doorway, his steely expression fixed on you. You audibly sigh, feeling deflated again after such a warm reception.

“I’m uh, gunna go get a drink.”

You exit the room hastily, making a beeline for the bar. You find a lowball, fill it with ice, then pour yourself some neat whiskey. The good kind that Jake always keeps generously stocked. You swirl the amber liquid around in the glass, then take a hearty glug, savouring the burn as it slips down your throat. You take a few centering breaths, but are interrupted when you feel a presence in the room with you. It moves from the door to beside you, a pair of hands reaching out to grasp the bottle of whiskey.

“Didn’t know you liked this stuff.”

“You don’t know anything about me, Sam.” You huff, taking another swig from your glass. “I wasn’t joking when I said I’m not in the mood for you and your attitude today.”

He leans on the counter next to you. “I’m not trying to have an attitude with you now though, am I?”

“Makes a change.”

He smirks at you, pissing you off even further. “Sam. I said I’m not in the mood, leave me alone. I’ve-” You sigh loudly, raking your hands through your hair. “Never mind…”

Sam places his hand on your arm, causing you to turn and face him in shock. His face softens for a moment, then turns more serious. “No… what were you going to say?”

You feel yourself reaching boiling point, your hand darting out to grasp onto your glass as you knock back the rest of your whiskey. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, slamming the lowball down onto the counter. “Fine, you wanna know so badly? I’ve had a really shitty week. My boyfriend broke up with me and now I have to move out of my apartment. Happy now? You wanna give me some sort of snide comment about how he must be so happy to be rid of me? Go ahead, Sam. I’m all fucking ears.” You grit your teeth, bracing yourself.

Sam clenches his jaw, his eyes studying your face intricately. You watch as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing within his throat. He’s just standing there, looking at you. What a fucking prick.

“Are you really just gunna stand there and stare at me?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, like he’s deciding on if he should say something or not. You’re tired of waiting now, so you begin to push past him to leave the room and find solace amongst real friends. That is, until his hand darts out and firmly grabs onto your wrist.

“Wait.” He mumbles.

You tug on your arm, but it’s no use. He’s got a vice-like grip onto you. Tears sting in your eyes, a mix of frustration and embarrassment. “Sam, what are you doing?! Let me go.”

His eyes widen and he loosens his grip ever so slightly. “Please, I don’t want you to go. I’m sorry.”

Your face contorts, your confusion displayed clearly across it as you struggle to figure out on earth is going on. “You don’t want me to go? Why? Fucking hell, Sam, you’re giving me whiplash.”

“I, uh-, I don’t like seeing you sad.” He mumbles, his fingers now rubbing along the pulse point of your wrist.

“What the fuck has gotten into you? That’s bullshit, and you know it.” You spit, feeling the fury rising within your stomach.

Sam’s face falls, he looks genuinely upset by your words. “That’s not true.”

You frown at him, your eyes scanning his face for any sign of deceit but you find that he’s actually being genuine for once. “Then why are you so mean to me all the time?”

He swallows again, seemly caught in an internal battle. His eyes dart around the area, looking at anything but you.

“You know what, Sam? If you can’t answer me then I have nothing more to say to you.” You had lost all patience at this point, wanting nothing more than to rejoin the others. You attempted to snatch your wrist back, but Sam’s grip tightens once more.

“You want to know why I’m so mean to you?”

“Obviously, hence me asking.” You roll your eyes.

“Because it’s the only way I could make sure you thought about me.”

You furrow your brow. “What?”

He takes a deep breath. “I’ve never had your full attention. You’re always distracted by other people, always laughing and joking and having fun with anyone but me. But when I’m mean, you look at me. You notice me.” He whispers.

“Sam, you’re confusing me so much. Why don’t you just talk to me like a normal person?”

“Because I don’t know how to!” He raises his voice, slamming his hand down onto the counter. “I was afraid of getting closer to you. Afraid of rejection. I pushed you away because I didn’t want to admit how I’m feeling. How I’ve felt all this fucking time.”

Your eyes widen, the pieces slowly coming together to form the whole picture. “How you were… feeling?”

“I like you, ok? A lot.” He rubs his hand across his face.

“You… like me?”

“Christ, Y/N. Of course I fucking like you. I just never wanted you to know, so I’ve acted like a total ass.”

You stand there, staring blankly at the man before you who has just given you the most open and vulnerable conversation ever, revealing that he has feelings for you.

“Please say something.” He mutters.

“I… I don’t know what to say. I’ve spent all this time thinking you hated me, now you’re telling me you like me? This is so overwhelming.”

“I don’t hate you, I could never hate you. I’m sorry.”

“How long have you felt this way?”

Oh, god. Forever. Like, a stupidly long time.”

“And you never thought to say anything to me, at all?”

Sam lets out a dry laugh. “I thought about it, but then I saw how you are with my brothers, with Daniel. The way you light up a room. How nice you are to everyone. I knew I’d just drag you down, or not be good enough for you. Then you started dating that dickhead. So I kept it to myself and did what I could to get you out of my head. But it never worked.”

“So why are you telling me now?”

“I don’t really know, I guess it just kinda came out. I felt bad that I’d upset you while you’re going through shit.” He steps closer to you, the scent of his cologne taking over your senses completely. It’s so undeniably Sam, earthy and musky, reminiscent of the incense he frequently burns. You feel yourself gravitating towards him, like there’s a magnetic pull between the two of you. He notices the proximity, so reaches out and pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Sammy.” You whisper.

You hear his breath hitch in his throat. “You’ve never called me that before.” He whispers. His fingers are still in your hair, trailing down to stroke against the side of your face.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Sam swallows thickly, before nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

You take a deep breath, about to spill your own truth. “When I first met you, when I was over at Danny’s house that day, I had the biggest crush on you. I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever laid eyes on. To begin with, you were nice to me, but then you turned so suddenly. It kinda broke my heart, y’know. I’ve spent so many years trying to chisel away at you, hoping that someday you’d stop hating me. But you never did.” You sigh, feeling extremely vulnerable.

Sam grimaces, his thumb ghosting over the shell of your ear. “I was just terrified of my feelings. I’m so sorry, I’ll never stop being sorry. I acted like such a dickhead.”

Before you can stop yourself, your hand darts up to Sam’s face, cupping his cheek. He sucks in a sharp breath, the proximity between you both now considerably smaller. He moves his hand from the side of your face to the back of your neck, massaging his fingers into the nape. Your lips part slightly at the feeling, and you watch as his eyes darken.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” He says in a low growl. His face is now only inches away from yours. You can feel his breath, hot and fragrant with the lingering scent of the Topo Chico he had whilst unpacking. In a moment of weakness, you close the gap. Your lips brush against his lightly, eliciting a groan from deep inside his chest. He kisses you back, his grip on your neck growing tighter. His lips move against yours desperately, like he would perish without the contact. He steps forward, pushing you up against the counter. You let out a soft whine into his mouth as the kiss deepens, your hands sliding up the back of his shirt and tracing patterns on his soft skin. You feel him shudder under your touch, pulling you closer and enveloping you in him. His tongue begs for entrance into your mouth, and you oblige, letting it mingle with yours.

Suddenly, you pull back. Your eyes widen as you realise what’s happening, and the speed in which it is. “Sam, what are we doing?”

“I have no idea, but I don’t want it to stop.” He mutters, his arms still wrapped around you.

You feel conflicted. One the one hand, this is something that you’ve secretly always wanted. But on the other, you found it hard to just forget the years of torment that he had put you through. “I don’t know if I can do this. You really hurt me over the years, regardless of how I felt about you.”

Sam frowns. “Please.” He murmurs, his hands gripping into you. “Please, just let me prove that I’m not an asshole. Let me make it up to you. I know I don’t deserve it, believe me I do. Just give me a chance to show you what I can really be like.”

You rest your forehead on his. “I don’t know. God, you make it so hard to say no.”

He closes his eyes. “Then don’t, angel.”

Something inside of you snaps at the pet name, igniting a raging inferno. “Fuck it.” You snake your hands up to his face, pulling him closer and kissing his lips hungrily. His hands drop down to your hips, gripping onto them firmly as he yanks you into him. His desire for you is on full display, evident in the way that he’s kissing you back.

“God, you have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do this.” He whispers between kisses.

You hitch your leg up around his waist and his hand moves to cradle your thigh. You feel your body growing hotter as the situation unfolds, the pressure in the pit of your stomach almost unbearable. His lips drift from yours and down onto your neck, lightly nipping against the sensitive skin. You let out a soft moan, which he seems to enjoy judging by how he’s straining against you.

“Take me to your room.” You pant.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He bends and picks you up in one swift movement, your legs wrapping around him as he hurries across the hall and through the bedroom door. He throws you down onto the bed, a menacing look in his eye.

“Are we really doing this?”

“I fucking hope so. Only if you’re comfortable with it, angel.”

You grab onto him, pulling him down onto the bed. You climb over, straddling his lap and pressing yourself down onto him, feeling every inch of his body.

“You feel so good. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve imagined you like this.”

You begin to undo the buttons of his shirt, gazing down at him. “Oh yeah? Tell me more.”

He lets out a shaky breath as you begin to trail your lips down his neck. “I- fuck. I think about what it would feel like to have your hands on me, what you’d sound like when I find all the right spots, how you’d say my name breathlessly.”

“Like this?” You coo, splaying your hands across his now bare torso, grinding down onto him as you dig your nails in lightly.

He lets out a low, guttural moan, his hands grasping at the hemline of your t-shirt. You lift your arms up to allow him better access, feeling the material slide up and over your head. You aren’t wearing a bra today, which leaves you entirely naked from the waist up.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He leans forward and sucks your nipple into his mouth, his warm tongue lapping over the sensitive bud. Your back arches at the contact, a soft whimper falling from your lips.

“God, those pretty noises. You drive me crazy, Y/N.”

“Keep it up and you’ll hear more.” You smirk.

His eyes rake over your body hungrily as he explores you with his hands, getting to know every inch. “I’m going to savour every goddamn second of this.” He growls, flipping you over so that your back is pressed against the mattress. You writhe against him, the electricity of the atmosphere zapping in your ears and all over your body with every touch. Every brush of his fingers against your skin sends shockwaves through you. Your thumb drifts up to his bottom lip, pulling it down lightly. He takes it into his mouth and bites the tip, causing your eyes to flutter back into your head. He manoeuvres himself down the bed, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts. He pulls them down slowly, then makes light work of sliding your panties over your hips. He bunches them up into his hand, putting them in his pocket.

“Souvenir.” He winks.

“You’re gross!” You giggle, pulling him towards you for another kiss. You feel your jaw fly open as he drags his middle finger up through your folds, teasing your entrance.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“It’s all for you.” You breath.

A low growl rumbles from his chest as he begins to work circles over your clit with the pad of his thumb. You suck in a sharp breath at the feeling blossoming between your legs, Sam getting you exactly where you need to be at a frightening pace. You begin to claw at his belt buckle, but he grabs onto your wrist and pins it up above your head.

“This is about you right now, angel.” He clicks his tongue, quickening his fingers as you squirm beneath him. You’ve always wondered how it would feel to be at the hands of Sam. You used to watch in awe as he picked away at his bass on stage, the way he’d throw his head back when he got lost in the music. He was exceptionally talented with his hands, and now you were finding out about the other side of his skill. As you’re transfixed on the feeling, you don’t realise he’s now lowered himself down even further until his tongue makes contact with your clit. You gasp, bundling your hands into his silky waves. He focuses his tongue on your sweet spot, whilst pumping two fingers in and out of you, curling up to reach where you need it most. You’re unravelling rapidly, your breaths laboured as he coaxes your climax from you.

“Sammmm.” You whine.

“Let go, baby. I’ve got you. M’gunna take care of you like I always should have.”

You feel your legs shudder as his words tip you over the edge. He works you through it steadily, his lips ghosting over your neck and collarbones. You sigh softly, then prop yourself up onto your elbows.

“Take your fucking pants off.”

Sam looks momentarily taken aback by your brashness, but its quickly replaced as a devious grin spreads across his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

He stands and fulfils your request, unbuckling his belt and letting it thud to the floor. He pops the button and unzips, sliding the pants over this thighs and letting them pool around his ankles. He steps out, kicking them backwards and stands proudly in front of you.

“Lose the boxers, too.”

He smirks, flicking his fingers into the waistband and taking them off, meeting the same fate as his pants in a pile behind him. God, he’s gorgeous.

You beckon him towards you with your finger, looking up at him with lust filled eyes. He moves to hover over you, but you wag your finger in front of his face. “On the bed next to me.”

He lays down beside you and you raise up onto your thighs, climbing over and straddling him. His eyes widen as you take him into your hand, pumping a few times, then line him up with your entrance and slide down onto him until he’s filled you completely. He lets out a strangled cry, his hands flying up to grip into the meat of your hips. You begin to lift up, starting with an agonisingly slow pace. Sam’s eyes meet yours, pleading for further movement.

“Oh, you want more?” You tease, changing pace immediately and bouncing up and down with force.

“Fuck!” He chokes, his fingernails digging into your skin, marking you for days to come. He drives up to meet you, the tension in the air thick as your sweaty bodies blend together effortlessly. Everything is a blur as you both reach your peaks together, your movements becoming sloppy as the pleasure consumes you. His hand snakes up between your breasts and grips around your throat, constricting the blood flow and making your head feel deliciously fuzzy. Your walls begin to flutter, so Sam reaches forward and teases your clit, his left hand still wrapped tightly around your neck. He stares into your eyes, his pupils blown wide, mouthing cum for me. You let out an obscene moan, tipping your head back in ecstasy as the pleasure washes over you like the sunshine on a summer’s day. Sam’s hands fly to your hips, pulling you down onto him roughly as he reaches his own release.

“Holy shit.” He gasps as he twitches inside you.

You press your forehead to his and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He whispers, sweat dripping down his brow. He kisses your lips with a newfound passion, letting his tongue swipe against your bottom lip. You place your fingertips gently on his cheeks, tracing them down to his jawline.

“I forgive you.” You smile, watching his face light up.

He kisses you again, over and over. “Thank you. Thank you.” He chants, squeezing you impossibly hard as you giggle in his arms.

“I suppose we should uh, clean ourselves up and re-join the others.” You chuckle.

“Yeah, they probably think we’ve killed each other.” Sam grins.

You both re-dress, using the bathroom in Sam’s room to fix your hair and smudged make-up, then exit the room one by one. As you enter the living area, you’re met with 3 pairs of eyes staring at you. You give them a sheepish smile, rubbing your elbow nervously.

“Fucking finally.” Jake smirks.

You throw your head in your hands, your face flushing the deepest shade of crimson. Sam bristles beside you as he runs a hand through his hair.

“You owe me $20, cough up!” Jake nudges Josh, who is rolling his eyes.

“You guys made a bet?!” You scold, glaring at them.

“Oh honey, this bet has been going on for longer than you can imagine.” Josh laughs, sending you a wink.

“Yeah, yeah. Can we not. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.” Sam places his arm around you, causing all of the hairs on your body stand to attention. The display of affection in front of his brothers is truly heartwarming, and you know in that moment you made the right decision.

“Shall we go grab a drink?” He whispers, smiling down at you.

“I’d love that.”

As you walk off into the kitchen, you hear the muffled sounds of the three boys engaged in a lively conversation.

“I always knew they’d find each other one day.”

~

To be continued… ?

[royakahoshiart]

Yashiro doesn't know what's bothering Kou, she wants to know and help him, but she just doesn't how to find out.

She's worried for his well-being but can't do anything about it.

She's aware that she can't help him, but at least wants to try and make him feel better.

The whole reason for why they went to the festival was for Yashiro to cheer up Kou.

But because Hanako is a little baby, Yashiro was never able to talk to Kou about his troubles. (Sorry i'm super mad about this.)

But she did succed at making him a little happier as we can see at the end of chapter 37

That was the first time she saw Kou vulnerable and not the usual loud and cheerful kid he seems to be.

She even tried asking him about it as soon as Kou told them about Mitsuba, but was unsuccessful, as he pretended like it wasn't a big deal.

You can clearly see the worry in her eyes.

She tried asking Hanako, but he was of no help. Just getting jealous.

She tried her best to make him a little happier, even if for a short amount of time. Hanako did mention something: "just knowing that somebody cares about him, would definitely make him happier". Wich is true, anything will do for Kou since he's got a neglectful father and a brother who is always busy. He also feels like he needs the one to help everyone so a small act of kindness for him would be a lot.

Yashiro knows that Kou looks up to her, (weather she knows that he had a crush on her is up to you) as it's obvious. For example, in chapter 28, she confidently scolds him, after all she is his upperclassmen, and they are close friends too.

Even so, she asks as to understand why.

She asks why he's doing the things he does (even if in situation it looks just rather silly to her) as to understand his actions, the cause and why he reacts like he does as to understand the situation better. But she does see that Kou is struggling to tell her something.

That's why Tsuchigomori makes up something, but she doesn't question Kou's reaction as to not cause further problems, but also probably because Tsuchigomori quickly changed the subject.

When Kou grabs her hand, and asks her is there's something bothering, she's clearly not taking the situation seriously, since to her this si sudden but not too worrying. (as you can see, her answer is kind of comic or stupid depending on what you think)

Yashiro clarifies that it's only to cheer him up, because it's clear that he isn't ok. so Hanako agrees and they do go to the festival. But Kou was happier and that was good. (he won't be happy for long)

I really like Kou and Yashiro's relationship in the early manga. Yashiro thought he was a loud but very kind kis who was always positive and nie and Teru's brother, but in recent manga she seems to realise that there's more to him. I really hope for more content about Yashiro's point of view towards Kou. Let's hope for the best!

[babybluebex]

i keep thinking about falling for co-star Dom…becoming more and more affectionate on/off set, spending all of your time off together…and yet you both walk around telling everyone “we are just besties lmao” because you’re both oblivious as hell

no bc i really love this idea, like being his co-star in the next movie he makes after holdovers and he has a lingering anxiety, wondering if holdovers was a fluke and he isn't actually good at his job, and then he meets you at the table read for the film and he's head over heels instantly, your smile and laugh are infectious, you've done your studying for the film and your part, a pro in every sense of the word (also helps that he thinks you're stunningly gorgeous, even in your fresh-off-the-plane sweats and cap at the table read)

your characters play a married couple, and he sees the headlines criticizing the casting decision of him at 21 and people saying he doesn't look old enough to be married and that makes the anxiety and doubt creep in even more, but he has to put it aside, and you make it easy for him to ease up

filming your scenes together, and your director is very free and easy, she lets you and dom sorta feel your own way through scenes and how your characters would act, and she's very open with "if you feel like you'd say/do something a different way, go for it" and you notice that dom seems to be doing the classic actor move of Making A Choice where he's always looking at you? but eh whatever your characters are married and he's leaning into the "good husband" trope

but you're always giggling together and cracking jokes on set, and after you wrap for the day, you will both go back to dom's trailer and accidentally cosplay as a couple, you'll cook dinner together and watch movies and more often than not, you'll fall asleep on his couch, and it happens so often that crew quickly figures out to go to dom's trailer to get you for hair/makeup

the end of filming is getting close, and you have to start doing lil interviews for promotion and for digital release as "special features", and you're asked about working with dom and you're complimentary "oh he's so good at what he does, he knows what he wants to do, very secure in his character, and other than that, dom's just a good guy, it's super easy to like him and to be pretend to be in love with him" and you later ask what dom said about you and he seems avoidant a little? "oh yknow, just that you're a good actor and a cool person and good friend" like oh! ok! cool!

once you wrap, you're immediately onto another project, and you and dom sorta lose touch, it's not planned, you just both get busy, but you reunite for the press tour and it's like no time has passed, you're back laughing and cracking jokes together, best friends forever, and dom starts being very?? outright flirty?? it used to be more lowkey but the press tour is like he's turning it to 11, he'll fix your hair for you if it's falling over your shoulder weird and mumble "beautiful as ever", and like will say something "our director was really good, she believed in us and gave us flexibility in our characters... right, baby?" and looks at you and you're like "oh! i'm baby!" and he laughs "f'course you are, you thought i was talking to someone else?"

and it becomes A Thing of how you two are flirting and everyone thinks you're definitely dating, especially when you roll up to a film festival and have a dress malfunction, your zipper breaks while you're actively on the carpet in front of the cameras, and dom doesn't hesitate for a second before he's taking off his suit jacket (blatantly violating the dress code of the film festival in the process) and putting it on you to help hide the gaping zipper in the back, and eh whatever it's a beachfront venue and it's cold and windy, you'll take his jacket

and everything comes to a head when, at the film festival, dom is once again asked how it was to work with you, and he basically rattles off andrew garfield's "she was a shot of espresso, being bathed in sunlight" speech, and you can't hold it back anymore, you HAVE to talk to him, and you do, it's terrible timing because you're minutes from going on the panel for your film but you need answers NOW, and you ask "why would you say that stuff about me?" and he's confused "didn't you... i thought you'd like it?"

"i do! but people think we're dating, and that didn't help!"

"jesus, i'm really sorry... i was just— i thought you'd understand by now, but i guess—"

"understand what??" and you're like oh crap. oh CRAP!!!

"i think i've loved you since the first day i met you" he says "but you never— and it's nothing you did wrong, it's ok that you don't feel the same way— you never said anything back so i just assumed you didn't understand so i kept putting it on thicker so you'd get it, but... i see it now, i'm sorry, i-i'll stop"

"i... dominic, i'm so sorry... but i really am just so fucking dumb, i thought you were just being a good friend and that i was reading too far into it... but i really like you. a lot. i like when you call me baby and help me with my outfit, and when you take pictures of me on your little kodak and when you let me have the last bite of your dinner, and i love how your eyes get all big and glassy when you look at me, like you're trying so hard to let me see myself as you see me... i know it's so much to ask, but—"

and he reads your mind and draws you into his body, and he kisses you like he needs to breathe, his hands firm on your waist as you card through his perfect curls, and you both get lost in it, for a moment the world is only you and him, but that ends quickly when you're being told that you have a minute before the panel starts, and you sorta laugh when you see dom's mouth tinted and streaked by your lipstick, and there's no time to fix that, so you smooth down his hair as best as possible and watch blush fill his entire face and neck and ears, and you sit next to each other at the panel, fingers locked together, grinning at each other like lovesick fools

becaue you are. and always have been. <3

[clouisluvr]

i need a part 3 of sean diaz hc IM STARVEDDD‼️

ask and (11 months later) you shall receive!

- deep conversations always happen whilst laying on the floor. he’ll lay on his back with an arm propped under his head and listen intently to everything you have to say

- hangs on to your every word if youre talking about something important like .. his eyes will go kinda big because he’s so focused on you he kinda forgets to blink LOL

- grabs onto your hands when hes nervous, like just clutches onto them and squeezes. likes when you rub the back of his hand with ur thumb for extra reassurance

- sean sees the world so artistically and beautifully so a feature of yours you’ve never noticed before is accentuated in his art. a beauty spot you didnt notice, a dimple you never knew about. he loves every little detail about you

- faye webster enjoyer! indie pop lover in general tbh. loves listening to music with you (earbud user because he hates how headphones feel on his head) and will always think of you when he listens to certain songs

- i think if you told him you like his hair long he’d let it GROWWW. like so long he can tie it into a bun, but it would annoy him after a while and he’d cut it to like ep1 length. will let you and daniel put his hair in pigtails with bows (he’ll joke about being coquette)

- loves going on drives with you. sometimes daniel tags along but he prefers when its just the two of you. definitely likes listening to frank ocean whilst the sun sets (it reminds him of gta😭)

- has a bad habit of putting on this cynical teen front (like his journal entry about trump winning LOL) and you give him an outlet to be sincere and sensitive which leads to him opening up about his mom

- sean feels a weird sense of guilt when he criticises karen in front of daniel because he knows he’s too young to really remember and feel upset about it. but he feels even worse doing it in front of his dad because he feels like his emotions take up too much space. like it overshadows the betrayal his dad must feel.

- so instead he adopts a mostly indifferent, partially angry attitude towards his mom leaving to disguise the genuine sadness and resentment. the inability to understand how she could just up and leave. when you give sean the space to actually .. feel everything, he breaks down. it deepens the bond he has with you, he feels theres no judgement to be cruel, selfish, or upset around you.

- seans newfound sensitivity from dating you also lets him be unashamedly happy about the holiday season. he is done pretending to be over christmas, bring out the ugly jumpers and candy canes!!

- esteban is in SHOCK. sean is up early during his winter break to *checks notes* decorate?? convinced it must be crack.

- not sure what the american equivalent of winter wonderland is, but he saves up money from his part time job to take you, his dad and daniel to a winter festival! he kinda breaks the bank but has no regrets!! gets you hot chocolates and treats, also spends an embarrassing amount on game tickets trying to win you a prize😭 you tell him its ok but he will keep trying until he gets you SOMETHING!

- at some point he’ll sneak off with you to give you the sweetest kiss ever. will hold your chin in his hand and tilt your head up to kiss you. he’s not huge on pda (especially with his dad in the vicinity) BUT he’s in such a good mood he cant pass up the chance. starts smiling through the kiss because he’s so happy

- that definitely inspires art of you looking flushed with slightly swollen lips but a look of warmth in your eyes. probably gives it to you as a christmas gift! tells you its one of the many many moments he felt himself falling even more in love with you

- he hates the cold but loves the excuse to cling to you constantly. “sean.. i need to pee.” “pretty sure if i let go of you i’ll instantly get frostbite soo..”

- nervous and geeky when you guys first start dating, but gets SUPERRR suave as time goes on it kinda makes you weak in the knees. will cup your cheek mid conversation and stroke your cheek with his thumb. will backhug you and kiss your neck. will kiss the back of your hand if hes feeling VERY romantic… whore activity tbh!

- hickey enthusiast omg its BAD hes an addict. but god forbid you give him one because he will freak about lyla seeing and giving him grief over it. has a thing for marking you and knowing you like how it feels

- loves when you wrap your arms around his neck!! gives him this super strong sense of security, he’ll always wraps his arms around your waist.

- HATES when people talk at the movies. you, sean and daniel all went to see fnaf and daniel would not stop turning to both of you to explain the lore incase you were confused😭 not even whispering mind you! infuriates sean but its him telling you and daniel to stop talking that gets the reaction of an angry parent asking him to “be quiet or leave!” his eye twitches when you and daniel start laughing at him LOLL

- ushanka hat bandit. will wear them even during SUMMER! always paired with a tank top and jeans or a striped hoodie. i think sean has slutty hips so u love the tank top x low rise jeans combo he wears in summer LMAOO :P

- likes to cuddle with your back facing him so he can kiss your shoulder.

- likes to post discreet pictures of you on his main ig but his spam account is like 90% you LMAO. posts photodumps filled with dumb text messages between you both and candid pictures of you

- gets overprotective of you in a similar way to how he is with daniel, sometimes you have to remind him you’re there to protect him too

- will lay his head on your shoulder when hes in need of comfort. also a subtle way of asking you to play with his hair (he will melt)

- likes if you put your hands in his jacket pocket when it’s cold so he can hold it in there!!

- goes through phases where he ALWAYS wants to be on the phone with you. like you could be on the way over and he’ll stay on call until you’re in his house

- has a bad habit of getting into petty arguments with you that start off playful, like debating over what the best chocolate bar is but he’ll end up taking it too far and getting legit mad LMAO. you both end up cackling about managing to argue over chocolate

- plans his future with you in it. knows he always wants to be in close proximity to you, daniel and his dad no matter what! he can’t imagine life without you and tbh he doesnt want to.

not sure what hits me at like midnight that makes me wanna write hcs but as always im too sleepy to proofread so ignore any mistakes! also sorry if you dont celebrate christmas, i was projecting a little LOL

hope u all enjoy!💗

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Accent

Jaskier has a Northern accent that he works really hard to hide. He learned early on that most people, especially among the nobility, considered Northerners to be lower than peasants. A Northern accent was a black mark on the person, labeling them as bumpkins or hill folk.

Jaskier saw how anyone with an accent even remotely close to Northern was ridiculed and bullied both inside and outside of Court. So he spent a lot of time practicing speaking in a Court accent until he perfected it.

By the time he went off to study in Oxenfurt, he had become comfortable with the new accent, and it sounded completely natural. He didn't have to worry about being looked down on, or ridiculed, and he discovered that a lot of people found a Court accent attractive.

But there was always that fear that he was going to slip and some one would find out about his Northern accent. He was terrifed when he started following Geralt, and when he met Yennefer.

Geralt never said anything, but he could hear that Jaskier's accent wasn't natural. There were slight differences in inflection, and pronunciation, and tiny inconsistencies that normal humans would never notice but a Witcher's sensitive ears easily picked up on. Whatever the reason was for the affectation was none of Geralt's business.

The more time Geralt spent with Jaskier, the more he noticed the little slips in this Court accent. He figured out the reason for the fake accent when he started hearing his real accent come through.

Geralt remembered the first time Jaskier's accent had slipped out.

The had made camp after a long day of entertaining at the town festival. Jaskier had been very tired, and he was upset about a few things Valdo Marx had said to him. He'd laughed it off, turning the insults and insinuations into an improv song that had the crowd laughing and cheering him boistrously before sweeping him away to the closest inn for a round of drinks while Valdo stood fuming impotently.

But now that they were alone, he'd allowed himself to feel the hurt, and his accent had taken on a sing-songy quality, and he'd gone hard on his T's for a second when he referred to Valdo Marx as "that b**tart!"

Oh, f**k!

Jaskier internally panicked the second he realized he'd dropped his affected accent. Ok, calm down! Maybe he didn't hear. You know he tunes you out most of the time. Act natural, pretend like everything is normal!

Jaskier continued rummaging through his pack, sneaking a quick glance at Geralt while continuing to insult Valdo as he shook out his bedroll, flapping the blanket aggresssively before laying it out. Geralt seemed oblivious, his attention on gathering deadfall for the fire and digging out the fire pit.

Jaskier allowed himself to breathe a silent sigh of relief. The Witcher hadn't noticed. Thank all the gods!

Geralt was scraping out a little pit for the fire when he heard Jaskier drop his accent for just a second. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bard freeze for a split second, and Geralt calmly continued with his task as if he hadn't noticed. All the while he was thinking "He has a Northern accent! No wonder he sounds off sometimes!"

From then on, Geralt started really listening, intrigued and wanting to hear more of his real voice. He caught little snatches of it here and there, mostly when Jaskier was drunk, tired, upset, or excited. Or when he thought he was alone, and was composing a song or poem.

Geralt was always careful to never let on that he noticed when that lovely, sing-songy accent slipped out. It was hard, forcing himself to keep that big stupid smile off his face that threatened to come out whenever he heard Jaskier 'go Northern'.

When Yennefer came into the picture, Jaskier was on edge, constantly on guard to keep his Northern accent hidden. She was the last person he wanted to find out about it.

She already hates me. No reason to make her think I'm stupid, too!

He did an excellent job of hiding it, not wanting to give the witch any ammunition in their perpetual war of words. He finally bonded with her, saw her as family like he did Geralt, and he doubled down on keeping his accent a secret.

He could talk to her about anything, show her every side of him, like he could with Geralt, but the accent was one thing he did not want to share. He was terrified that she would look at him differently. That both of them would. He didn't think his heart would survive that.

Yennefer had been fighting for her life the first time she heard Jaskier's Northern accent come out.

Jaskier had caught a fever while performing in one of the towns. He was delirious, and Yennefer had been getting him to drink a potion and he'd just completely dropped his affected accent as he started talking random nonsense to her.

She had paused as she was tucking him back in, staring at him in disbelief as he chattered on.

Yennefer had squealed in lowercase.

"Oh! My! Gods! He's, he's got a-!"

"Northern accent. I know. He's been faking a Court accent-!"

"I know what it is, and it's f***ing cute!"

"Gods you sound like a giddy little maid!"

"Like you can say anything, Geralt, when you're standing there grinning like a boy who's just gotten his first peek at a pair of tits!"

Yennefer and Geralt never let on that they knew, and it bothered them that Jaskier didn't seem to feel like he could trust them. They understood why he was hiding it, though, so they satisfied themselves with enjoying the rare times when it slipped out.

It was not heavy, like many Northerners' accents were. Jaskier's accent was lighter, more delicate, but it did tend to get heavier when he was in an emotional state.

They did their best to pretend they didn't notice the little lapses, but they couldn't help but smile when it happened. And Jaskier eventually figured out that they both knew--had known for a while.

Yennefer had run into them in town, and they were having dinner in their room at the inn. Jaskier had been chattering on about how one of his sets had gone, and he'd gotten a little too excited. Yennefer's eyes had gone soft and...and sparkly, and she'd glanced at Geralt, whose face was lit up with the sunniest smile which he was desperately trying to hide behind his tankard of ale.

OhHhH f**K, tHeY'd hEaRd iT!!!! He froze, going stock still. Any minute now, they were going to start lauging at him.

Geralt just smiled and took another drink while Yennefer just kept looking at him with that, that adoring look. That was when he knew.

"When?" Jaskier had asked, mortified after he realized.

Geralt had swallowed his ale with a thoughtful 'Hm' and replied. "A few days after you started following me around. Your accent sounded off, but I wasn't sure why. Figured it out after you started b*tching about Valdo Marx one night."

Jaskier mentally kicked himself. Of course a Witcher would have been able to tell!

"And you?", he asked Yennefer

"That time you had that bad fever. You babbled on in the most intriguing accent about everything under the heavens. We got to listen to it for two whole days!"

Jaskier hid his face in his hands, dinner forgotten as he slid down in his chair with an embarrassed groan.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because we knew why you were hiding it, Lark", Yennefer said, "I've been in Court. I know how the nobility are."

"You don't have to hide it anymore. Not around us," Geralt said.

"You...you don't think I sound...stupid?"

Yennefer tapped him on the head with her empty plate as she walked by, "No, you little b*llend! It's sing-songy and cute, and you sound adorable!"

It took him some time, but he was finally able to let himself relax and stop using the adopted accent with Yennefer and Geralt.

He would forget sometimes, because he was a performer, and an act could be hard to put aside. Especially if it had helped you survive for so many years.

It would sometimes take an hour or two after a long day of performing for the public for Geralt and Yennefer's 'Sing-Songy Twit' to relax enought to drop the Court accent and be himself. And when he did, one of them would always say warmly "There you are, Jaskier!"

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Any headcanons for Sanzu?? I saw the ones about Angry and got curious 🤣😂

Ok these are the ones I've got for him!!

His katana has a name

Became good friends with Angry, this was mainly due to how much Smiley and Mucho hung out. 

Everytime someone has asked about the scars on his face, he's given a different response as to how they happened.

He also frequently watched Shinichiro working on bikes when he was a kid.

Stole his bike

Has a habit of staring off into space and daydreaming a lot, people always think he's annoyed when he does that

While in tenjiku he kept his hands in his pockets a lot. This was to hide the way he'd clench his fists whenever they mentioned taking Mikey down. 

Didn't feel sad after he killed Mucho but he wasn't happy either. After the adrenaline wore off he felt nothing, just an emptiness. 

When he went to the festival with Senju as kids, they rode the carousel, both pretending to race each other on it.

Wasn't surprised but was also a little hurt when no one came to pick him up from juvie in the first timeline.

Didn't want to join a gang in the good timeline because gangs made him think of Takeomi and he didn't want to be like him.

Visited Shinichiro's grave often, each time promising him that he was looking after Mikey.

While growing up, practising his katana was his favourite thing to do since it was one of the only times he got to be free.

During the good timeline he hinted he wanted a pet once. He was thinking like a dog or maybe a cat but Senju got him a hamster. He still ended up loving the little guy

Although he was the first one to teach Senju how to fight, he wasn't the last. After he left Waka and Benkei took over. When he did start teaching her it was only because she wouldn't stop asking him.

Attends all of Mikey's races in the good timeline

Goes to get cheesecake at least once a week with mucho

If he dates someone, one of his favourite things is to take them on bike rides. He doesn't care where they go, he just likes the feeling of them holding onto him.

A part of him was actually regretful after Emma died but he pushed those feelings away, instead concentrating on Mikey.

Talking of character deaths, he did mourn Baji after he died too. Even visiting his grave often.

When Senju used to cry he used to sing to her to cheer her up.

Is kinda jealous of Baji and how so many animals seem to naturally like him 

Gets headaches a lot (he forgets to drink water)

Got on well with Ryoko (Baji's mum) 

In the good timeline he doen't know how to react to all the fan girls he has from his YouTube career.

Didn't actually hate Kakucho until Kakucho said he always hated him. 

Takemichi and Hina asked him for permission before planning their wedding on his birthday and he said yes. (It was the only day the venue was available for)

Uses an expensive cologne 

When he's cuddling with his partner he likes to stroke their hair

Takes very cold showers

After he heard about how Mikey likes strong guys he did his best to lock his feelings away, even refusing to cry after that.

His taste in music is something no one would expect

He burnt his face mask after disposing of Mucho's body

Likes flowers, he appreciates their sweet smell.

Stares off into space a lot, people usually think he's glaring at them (though tbf he does that a lot too)

The reason Takeomi took Baji on his bike and not him is because Sanzu pretended he didn't want to go. He actually did but after he saw how excited Baji was he let his friend go instead.

Frequently has nightmares about Shinichiro and Mikey's deaths

[fayes-fics]

Somewhere Only We Know

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Five hours of snowfall, four miles from the nearest paved road, three weeks before Christmas, two old friends and one bed….

Warnings: 18+smut, minors DNI, fingering, handjob, vaginal sex, passing mention of oral sex, all sorts of feelings.

Word Count: 7.9 k I'm so sorry...

Build a blurb prompt 1: Benedict 👅 smut 🌲 mutual pining 🛌 only one bed - from @amillcitygirl Build a blurb prompt 2: modern Benedict 👅smut 👥friends to lovers 🌲mutual pining 🛌only one bed - from anon

Authors Note: *beep beep* make way for the trope bus, it’s coming thru!! Is this original? No. Was it fun to write? Hell YES! This thing was supposed to be 1k follower celebration Drabble (HAHAHA) but it grew its own legs and took over my brain for the last week. This is my winter epic and I even listened to the namesake song as I was editing it. I hope you all enjoy. Betaed by the total trooper @makaylan and beautiful artwork above made especially by @bridgertontess thank you 🧡

“You’ll just have to stay here,” he shrugs, peering out at the falling snow.

You glance at your watch. It’s 5pm and already dark, snowflakes swirling furiously in the glow cast by the window.

This was not your plan. You are booked onto a late flight back to London tonight. You only came out to the beautiful Highlands for a day in nature after your business trip to Glasgow. OK, and a dose of time with the most handsome friend you have, but mainly for the scenery.

He’s rented a tiny cottage for a week as a painting retreat. Why he would do that in early December is a slight mystery. However, the scenery will undoubtedly be even more breathtaking with a blanket of snow tomorrow—an artist's dream.

“Look, the roads here are tiny and treacherous. It’s too risky to attempt the airport drive tonight in the dark in this snowstorm. I will pay for you to fly home tomorrow instead,” Benedict assures, “penance for not checking the forecast before inviting you?” he winces in the hopes of forgiveness.

“But…” you protest weakly, not exactly hating the idea of being trapped in a remote cottage in the mountains with the man who has haunted your dreams for more years than you care to remember.

“This place is warm,” he points to the roaring fireplace. “And well stocked, in more ways than one,” he adds, gesturing to the kitchenette full of supplies and, with a flourish, to the small selection of single malt bottles on a nearby shelf. “There’s even some festive decor,” he argues.

You are entertained that he believes some sprigs of holly, which he has obviously collected on one of his hikes, count as Christmas decorations. Although, to be fair, wrapped around the bookshelves and candles the way it is, it does look lovely.

‘Yes, but… there's also only one bed,” you argue, nodding to the not-exactly sizable double bed at the other end of the room, partially obscured by a room-dividing bookshelf. Even as you mention it, your belly has a warm fizz at the fleeting thought of waking up pressed against him.

“I can sleep on the sofa,” he says hurriedly in a reassuring tone.

“Ben, don't be ridiculous. You are six feet tall, and that thing is barely five. We are not so young we can just sleep anywhere and still be okay anymore,” you remind him.

“Yeah, thanks for that reminder,” he deadpans.

“We are grown-ups; we can share a bed,” trying to keep your tone breezy, but it feels like the reassurance is for yourself as much as him.

You pretend not to see how he swallows thickly at your suggestion, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily.

“If it makes you more comfortable, I can fashion a barrier with some throw cushions,” you shrug, a short nervous laugh bubbling up as you secretly chastise yourself for suggesting such a thing.

“No, no,” he rushes out very quickly. “What I mean is… it’s not a big bed, so by the time we do that, we would both be clinging to the edges. Let’s just, as you say, be adults about this and share the best we can.”

“Agreed.” You give a business-like nod, wanting to change the topic.

“Besides, the night is young,” he states, clapping and rubbing his hands together as if reading your mind. “What do you say we cook dinner together? Then, well, it’s card games or jigsaw puzzles, I’m afraid,” he skews his mouth with an apologetic twist.

“Sounds delightful on all counts,” you assure and bump him with your shoulder.

The evening seems to fly by, and the snowstorm outside somewhat abates as you make a delicious spaghetti bolognese together. Even though it's a tiny kitchen space, you make it work, moving around each other with an almost balletic fluidity as soft music plays from a Bluetooth speaker. There's no Wi-Fi or even much phone signal out here, but he came prepared with songs loaded onto his laptop. You exchange easy chat about mutual friends and what has been happening since you last saw one another a few weeks before.

As you sit down to eat together, the conversation flow continues. It's one of those meals you sop up the sauce from your plate with the warm bread rolls you serve as a side. Lingering in your chairs long after eating is complete, chatting amiably and animatedly about anything, everything and nothing all at once, with a delicious bottle of scotch.

Later, you take turns in the bathroom, cleaning teeth and changing into pyjama bottoms, and then you drift to the living room area. You watch as Benedict pours you both a nightcap into scotch glasses and glance outside to see the storm has picked up again, large clumps of fluffy snow gather in the corner of the window pane; you feel very cosy in this small but perfectly formed little rustic cottage.

“So, how have you been entertaining yourself all alone here for the last four nights?” you inquire, enjoying the smooth, smoky burn of the single malt.

Benedict is now sprawled across the nearby armchair in the most Benedict way, legs akimbo.

“I’ve read two books, and I’ve slept for nine hours every night,” he confesses, taking a sip of his drink and looking at you over the top of his glass.

The room feels like it's getting warmer regardless of the fire; how much is due to the delightful fog of whisky in your veins versus the handsome man across from you is indecipherable.

“Are you not lonely?” you blurt out.

“I live alone in London. What's the difference?” his brow knitting in confusion.

“Alone in the city is very different to alone out here,” you offer, “you can’t be that lonely when you’re only twenty feet from your neighbour through a wall.”

“Hmm, never thought about it like that,” his mien turns thoughtful, scratching his palm on the shadow of stubble on his chin.

You hear the rasp from where you sit, and you almost squeak in surprise as your treacherous mind supplies a vivid snapshot of that stubble teasing the soft skin of your lower belly as he looks up at you with a seductive smirk. You have to shake your head to get rid of it.

“Fear of murder out here is different,” you offer, trying to reroute your thoughts.

“Morbid,” he shoots back, raising an eyebrow with a bemused expression on his face.

“Out here, no one can hear you scream,” you jest, aping the movie line.

He guffaws into his glass. “Sometimes that can be a good thing.”

“Murder?!”

“The ability to scream and not be heard,” he clarifies, his tone markedly more languid than before.

“Painting not going well?” you ask with a chuckle.

“It’s going great, but not what I was referring to,” he argues, and you can’t seem to look away from his mouth all of a sudden.

Damn, how much whisky have you had?

“Had a girl here, Bridgerton?” your venture, a flutter in your chest even as you ask.

“Not until now,” he scoffs, but the intensity in his hazy blue stare causes a riot in your stomach.

You have to look down at your feet before you do something stupid, like climb into his lap and suck on his luscious bottom lip.

“Have you been masturbating loudly?” you quip, still looking down, the thought leaving your lips before you can censor it.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, making you look back at him—big mistake. His eyes look stormy, and you can see a vein in his neck pulsing hard. Like you’ve awoken something.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” you stutter even as your mind floods with images of just that—him stroking his cock and panting, preferably your name.

The atmosphere feels a little too thick, and you briefly curl your lip into your mouth and bite it to give yourself something else to focus on.

“More whisky?” you offer, standing up and changing the subject.

“Sure.” He holds out his glass, and you swear his fingers intentionally slot between yours as he passes it to you.

You use the few moments it takes to refill your drinks, with your back turned, to gather your thoughts and slow your breathing. Having served, you sink onto the couch again but intentionally shift to face him more directly. The alcohol makes you bold and intrigued to know where this might go. He seems to do the same, his feet looping over the armchair's edge and almost touching yours.

“Hey, do you remember that summer when we were, l think, maybe twelve and…”

“Excuse me, point of order,” you butt in, “If you were twelve, I was ten. OK? Continue…” you motion with your hands for him to go on.

“Yes, thanks for reminding me I am older,” he snarks and skews his mouth into an affectionate pout.

“You are welcome, old man,” you tease with a slight smirk.

“Well, anyway… do you remember that summer Colin came home with headlice? And Ant’s answer was to shave all of our heads? Mum almost had a heart attack when she walked in on that. She was forever grateful he’d only gotten around to doing us three boys. She might have died if we’d made it down to Daph or El…” he is laughing heartily around his scotch glass at the memory.

“Remember it?!?” you pipe up, “of course I do! Don't you remember you were trying to push me in front of your sisters in Ant’s barber line? You seemed concerned to ensure I either got rid of or never got them in the first place; I don't remember which,” you laugh, an ache of fond nostalgia in your chest at little Benedict.

“Well, of course, I’ve always looked out for you,” he rolls his eyes as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

You smile a genuinely warm smile at him. He's been a wonderful person in your life for as long as you can remember.

“But you’ve always looked out for me too. I remember you brought me a Malteser every day when I was sick with the mumps.”

“I did?!” your voice incredulous; you do not remember doing so.

“Yes, and I've never forgotten it,” he voices sincerely before he takes a draw of his drink. “But then there is so much about you that is unforgettable, isn't there?” he adds, looking at you with an intensity you don't know what to do with.

“Stop it,” you answer bashfully, embarrassed to meet his gaze, staring beyond his shoulder at the snow falling heavily and sticking to the window in fluffy clumps. “And if we’re on this flattery train, what about you? You think I don’t know it’s been you sending me an ‘anonymous’ rose every single Valentine's Day?”

He gapes at you in surprise. “Wait, how did you know it’s from me?’”

“You are the sweetest person I know. It could never be anyone but you, Ben.” You shrug as if the answer is obvious, “and I know it was never out of pity for the times I’m single because you sent one those years I was with Dan, which used to make him so mad, by the way, and when I was with Julian and Paul….”

“Urgh, Dan deserved to be mad,” his tone dismissive, and his face ticked, “I always hated him.”

“You hated everyone I dated, that you met anyway,” you point out, that fact just dawning on your as you speak it.

“But him the most,” he grouses with a sour expression.

“Why?”

“‘Cos he got the closest to marrying you. And I really didn’t want to have to do that whole stand-up in church and object thing. But, by god, I would have.”

His powerful words stun you; you had no idea how deep his feelings on the subject ran.

“Y… you would?” you stutter.

His eyes are so intense now. Even as he takes a swig, he doesn't look away. “He was not worthy of you,” he declares, slow and deliberate, enunciating each word crisply.

“So, who is?” you ask quietly as you take a sip, the question echoing hollowly in your glass.

“I haven't met anyone yet,” he notes with finality.

You had no idea he had judged every single one of your boyfriends and, what’s more, found all of them to be somehow lacking. In hindsight, he was correct, but he never said anything to you at the time, and you can't decide if you want to hold that against him. It might have saved you a lot of heartache and possibly a lot of money.

“Well, if you meet someone that has the Benedict seal of approval, you’ll be sure to send them my way, yeah?” you volley, your voice light.

He breaks into a smile that makes something flutter strong in your ribcage.

“Certainly. I hope you don't mind waiting until possibly your eighties for me to find a worthy suitor,” he jokes.

“Oh god, really?” you groan, “but I can’t not have sex until then,” you lament and kick your legs out as if in a fit of pique.

“Oh, you can have all the sex you want,” he lobbies back, waving his hand dismissively, “you just can’t fall in love,” his eyes twinkle with mischief you’ve always found beguiling.

“Duly noted,” you giggle.

There is a beat where you just look at each other with a shared fondness that makes your heart ache a little—perhaps under different circumstances, he could be the one person worthy of you, as he puts it.

“Well, that is the last log on the fire dying down. I'm not going out in that damn snow to fetch more, so I think the safest thing to do is get under the covers before it gets too cold in here.” he opines.

“Ben, it's 10:30 pm… really?” you whine, “are you really going to bed already, grandpa?” but as you complain, you stifle a yawn.

“Haha, I saw that yawn!” he retorts triumphantly, “and I've got news for you, missy. You are going to bed too.” He grabs both of your hands and easily hauls you off the sofa.

“Why?!?” you scoff but are secretly enthralled when he rounds behind you, his sizable hands landing warm on your hips and propelling you towards the bedroom area.

“Because I’m not having you crawl under the covers later bringing in all that cold air with you, nope, no thank you, not happening,” he chimes over your shoulder.

“So I have to go to bed now?!” you throw your hands up in the air, but he keeps propelling you forward.

“Yup,” he grins, popping the ‘p’ rather obnoxiously.

You capitulate with a weary sigh. “Urghhh, fine. But I will be up reading for a few more hours, so I hope you can sleep with the light on.”

“Fine with me,” he chuckles, herding you towards the bed. “I once slept in your dorm room when your flatmate was having a full-on dance party. I think I can sleep through your reading.”

You collapse onto the bed giggling at that memory, tugging off your shoes and socks but nothing else as he does the same. He pulls the covers back, and you both settle under, still in your fleecy jumpers. Without your socks, however, your feet feel freezing, and with a wicked grin, you cook up a solution.

“Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with your feet?!? Why are they so cold!!” he exclaims as your toes wrap around his exposed ankle.

He twists to try and get away from you, but your feet chase him under the covers, you laughing, him shrieking.

“My hands are cold too,” you chortle, clamping them onto his surprisingly muscular forearm.

He squeals in the most undignified manner, trying to shake your grip, but you just limpet on harder, giggling in that way only tipsy people do.

There is the most delightful resulting tussle, him trying to wrestle your hands and feet away as you try your damndest to keep them on him—the duvet entwining around all of your limbs.

You end up with his weight and warmth partially on top of you, pinning you down, him triumphantly ensnaring your wrists and holding your hands firmly onto the pillow. Your joint heavy breathing and giggles slowly die out as you stare at each other. Your faces have never been so close before. You have no doubt your pupils are as blown as his, and you are certain that he can feel the racing heartbeat at your wrists where he pins you down. His breath is warm on your cheek.

After a few silent moments, his gaze drops to your mouth; he suddenly mutters an apology and starts to pull away.

As if in slow motion, you push up and press your lips to his. You are not thinking at all, just going with your instinct. His lips are warm and plush, and you want more. So much more.

You feel the moment his whole body freezes; he is stunned in the truest sense of the word.

You pull back quickly, sinking into the pillow under him.

“Oh god. I’m so, so sorry,” you whisper, mortified, “please forgive me, I….”

Your words die out as he makes a noise you’ve never heard before. It seems to come from deep inside him, making every hair on your body stand on end.

Then he is on you. Closing the gap between you and capturing your lips with a passion that steals your breath and thoughts. He is kissing so hard, so quickly, you feel lightheaded, pressing you into the mattress under his body. His lips open over yours, his tongue teasing against your lips. He tastes of toothpaste, traces of whiskey and something that is all him, and you flood your underwear; there's also a noise from your throat that doesn’t sound human. He kisses like a storm, hot and electric, and you want to drown in him.

Suddenly his hands are everywhere, and so yours follow suit. It’s a desperate clambering of wanting more. Before you can completely acknowledge it, his hands are questing under your jumper, squeezing your waist, sliding up and over your bra, and tweaking a nipple as his tongue parries with yours.

“Please, please take this off,” he implores passionately into your mouth, tugging at your top. His voice, this close and breathless, is lethal. He is everywhere, surrounding and covering you, and your focus narrows to just him as he sits up to peel off his jumper and t-shirt together, exposing his torso. You freeze. Your arms crossed, halfway through taking off yours.

“Fucking hell,” you exhale before you can stop yourself.

You figured Benedict would be in shape from the feel of his body when you hug, but you haven't seen him shirtless in a long time, and just how much in shape he is, is a revelation. He smiles demurely at your outburst, which makes you want him even more if that were possible.

“Take yours off,” he sounds impatient, and you realise you are still frozen in the same position. You quickly whip yours over your head; his responding noise is your new favourite sound. You feel so grateful you only brought nice underwear on this trip; your lacy bra appears to work for him.

“The knickers match,” you murmur, revelling in the flash in his eye.

You grab his hand and move it to the drawstring on your pyjamas. His long slender fingers pluck the bow tied there; his gaze is on your face the whole time, his kiss-damp lips glowing softly in the low light. You breathe deeply and can’t look away from his captivating face. When the string relents, he winks. Rather than pull them down, his hand quests inside and between your legs.

You gasp and buck up off the pillow as warm, strong fingers press on your clit through the lacy fabric. You know he can feel your heat, just how wet the material is.

“I’ve wanted you for years,” he rumbles low and sinful as his fingers tease a circle over your clit. “Although this seems unreal - I half assume I’m going to wake up in a minute with my hand wrapped around my cock, alone.”

Hearing him say the word cock makes you moan. He licks his lips, and his fingers curl firmer on you.

“Tell me this is real; I’m not dreaming again,” he pleads fervently, pressing his forehead to yours, breathing your air. He is achingly beautiful this close up, his eyes just a thin ring blazing around dark inky pupils staring into your depths. This man has always been able to make you feel seen, but this close, this intense, it feels like he’s peering into your soul.

“You’re not dreaming, Ben,” you reply shakily, trying not to lose all composure at what the word ‘again’ might imply as he gradually tortures you with unhurried, steady movements.

He is watching your face, so closely observing, cataloguing your micro-expressions. His fingers move, spidering along the lace trim before pushing under the fabric this time, sliding down through your trimmed pubic hair and into your naked, soaked folds.

“Ben!” You call out, grasping that strong forearm again, biting your lip and staring into his fiery gaze.

“What do you need?” he questions. It’s the first time anyone has ever asked you that in bed.

“You,” you reply honestly.

“You have me, 110% you have me,” he asserts in a tone that melts something in your chest. “As if you don't know it, you’ve had me for many years,” he admits as his hand slides lower. You cry out as he pushes two fingers just a fraction inside you.

“Fuck, you are on fire,” he exclaims, a shaky exhale across your lips.

“Only for you,” you answer, knowing you’ve never been this turned on before in your life.

He growls, actually growls. And then his lips are back on yours in the most potent kiss yet. You pulse around him and groan into his mouth as he sinks his fingers deeper. When the kiss ends, you glance down your body, seeing the stiff peaks of your nipples poking insistently through the lace and his sinewy forearm buried into your pyjama bottoms.

“Do you like what you see?” his voice a velvety tease.

“I’d like it even more if we were naked,” you respond honestly.

He chuckles at that, and his lips descend, dropping light kisses down your neck as his fingers tease you, surging in and out of your body so achingly slow. His thumb rests on your clit, a little nudge of pressure every time his fingers rock into your channel.

“I need to make you come like I need air,” he confesses, his voice resonant, his warm breath skittering over the sensitive skin of your throat. It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“Please do…” it’s a quiet plea.

You feel the curve of his cheek as he smiles, and the fingers inside you flex.

“I suppose if you’d like to be more naked, then I’d better strip you down first,” he remarks, gently withdrawing his fingers.

Warm hands hook into your underwear, and he scooches away, pulling them down your legs, taking your PJs with them. Suddenly, the image that flashed in your mind earlier becomes a reality, his stubbly chin grazing your belly as he crawls back over you.

“You look amazing,” he sighs over your belly button and leans his forehead on your stomach as he takes a deep breath. “You smell it too.”

He runs his nose and lips over your skin as he surges up and nuzzles your bra, pleading with his eyes for you to remove it as he pulls the straps down over your arms, kissing along the lacy cup edge.

When his lips wrap around one of your nipples, you grab his hair and push up against him, the swoop of sensation in your belly like riding a rollercoaster, the thrill tingling along the back of your scalp.

He moves to lay beside you, and you watch the duvet move as he strips off his bottoms under it. Suddenly there is a thick wave of body heat as he rolls next to you; you feel something sizeable and solid brand your hip.

“Oh, Ben,” slips out on instinct, but he stops your questing hand.

“Not yet,” he shakes his head and smirks at your corresponding pout. “When you have come, preferably screaming, then you can touch my cock. Okay?”

You physically feel the shiver down your spine at that line. Who even says things like that?

He smiles against your temple as he slips his fingers back into you, and you moan at the sensation. He curls his body around you, legs twining around your right one to hold you open. That cock is still rigid on your hip; it feels sizeable and delicious.

“Tell me what you like,” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing a circle over your clit his fingers stroking in a come hither motion.

“This… exactly what you are doing,” you reply breathlessly, “just please don't stop and maybe go a little harder?” you request timidly.

He smirks and pushes his fingers deeper; his motions get stronger and faster. You close your eyes and nod, licking your lips.

“Yes, that oh god Ben, thattttt,” you stumble as his magical fingers spiral you higher.

When they jab a spot inside, a bloom of pleasure hits you, and your eyes fly open, going wide.

“Oh, that’s the spot,” he preens, redoubling his efforts as you start to pant loudly, clinging to his arm and whining his name—the hot and intense pleasure building remarkably fast.

“That’s it come on,” he encourages, whispering into your hairline right above your ear; his tone is both soothing and achingly filthy.

“Ben… I,” your words morph into needy noises, drunk on the sensations rippling through your body, fanning out from his fingers buried inside you.

“Yes, yes,” he hisses, “you’re close now; I can feel it. Look at me,” he orders.

And you do. Mouth hanging open, squirming on his fingers, feeling something primal washing over you. His eyes burn into yours.

“Don’t fight it,” he warns.

It's almost like permission; you feel something inside you give way. You scream loudly as a tide of orgasm washes over you. Blood rushes in your ears, and you feel his leg bear down over the apex of your thigh, holding your pelvis onto the bed as you cry and convulse. Your body fights his fingers, trying to push them out as your whole channel clenches in strong waves.

After a few moments of deep breaths, you open your eyes, and he kisses your cheek, then your lips.

“Wow… that was…. absolutely amazing,” he confides, kissing more. “And it's a damn good thing no one can hear us here. You scream like a horror movie queen, and I mean that with all the very best compliments.”

You laugh a little abashed and bury your face into his armpit, loving the smell of his deodorant and just him.

“Your turn,” you mumble, deciding to be bold and snake a hand down your side to grab his cock at your hip.

It’s large and thick enough your fingers don’t quite meet when you wrap around it. It makes your insides melt at the thought of how it would feel sliding into you. He makes the neediest huffing noises as you twist onto your side to face him and begin an unhurried rhythm, watching that pretty cock twitch in your hand.

You tease him with a gentle twisting motion, squeezing a little as you reach his head, swiping a thumb over the bead of precum that appears, gently massaging his frenulum as he lets out a faint moan. His hand covers yours, stilling your movements.

“This is so wonderful, but I need you to stop if you want sex. Do you want to… have sex?” he asks so demurely your heart clenches.

“Yes, Ben, please,” you whisper.

“I didn't bring any condoms with me,” he says quietly, “I didn't think I’d meet another soul up here, let alone well…” he trails off, pitching forward, so his lips are warm on your cheek.

“I didn't either, but I'm on the Pill,” you shrug. You've never had first-time sex without a condom, but this man isn't a stranger; he's a lifelong friend, and you trust him with your life.

“I know,” he says softly, kissing your nose.

“Wait, how do you know that?” your brow knitting lightly.

“I know everything about you,” he asserts against your skin, staring into your eyes. “How you take your tea - English breakfast before 2pm, Earl Grey after, both with milk and one sugar. I know how the tip of your tongue here,” he softly trails his nose over the corner of your mouth, “sticks out of your mouth when you type on your laptop. I know you always loop your glasses into the neckline of your top,” a finger tracing gently over the swell of your breast, “and somehow always forget they are there and have a ten-second panic every time.” He laughs gently. “I even know how you prefer plain Hobnobs over chocolate; I have no idea why, and you are so wrong on that, by the way,” he shoots you a devastating lopsided grin. “And I know you are on the Pill because I've watched you take them religiously for years; when I stay at yours, and you make coffee in the morning, it’s the first thing you take before your multivitamin.”

His casual recounting of so many little, human things that make you, you, astounds you. This man knows you better than you know yourself, and you get a weird swooping sensation in your chest. Of elation that you've finally figured it out, he might just be the one - your human, but also a crushing regret you haven't done so sooner. You could have been doing this, intimately entwined with this wonderful, thoughtful, sensitive, handsome man, for so many years.

Not wanting to waste any more opportunity and so very desperate to have him inside you, you use all your strength to roll him onto his back and climb on top. Surprised and aroused, he looks up at you devotedly, his pupils blown wide.

Silently and without breaking eye contact, you reach between your bodies, line up his weeping beautiful cock, and sink onto him without another thought. The needy noise he makes is like poetry.

He feels perfect, and you close your eyes to revel in being stretched around him, a solid hot presence filling you up and holding you so open. Just the perfect length and girth for you, almost like his cock was made for you.

Warm hands grasp your hips, and your eyes fly open and look down at him, his expression pleading with you to move. Gradually you rise up, then drop down just once, savouring the sensations as he drags against your walls.

“You feel perfect,” he groans “please….”

You know what he is asking, begging for - more. Something in you wants to draw this out, go so achingly slow both of you get mindless. Luxuriate in this carnal, sensual meeting.

“Talk to me,” you implore, starting a leisurely pace.

“What about?” you watch him glance down between your bodies, watching his cock disappear into you as you sink down.

“Talk to me, Ben,” you repeat but pointedly, grabbing his chin to look at you and raising an eyebrow.

There's a lightbulb of understanding behind his eyes, and that killer crooked smile spreads across his face.

“You like my voice, don't you?” he says, pitched low, and you bite your lip, grabbing his hands as leverage for your movements.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, gasping as the pleasure grows between your legs just as he says those few words.

“I know,” he smirks, “I’ve known for years.”

You look at him in surprise. “Wait, how?” you breathe, disbelieving.

He grabs your shoulders and pulls you down on top of him: so much heat and warm flesh.

“I have noticed your pupils dilate every time I drop my voice just like this,” he murmurs low and sinful into your ear. “The temptation to say so many dirty things has been so strong. God, I love it when you are aroused, and you think you can hide it. I knew you were getting wet; it would take all my willpower not to grab and kiss you senselessly. Especially those days when you are only in a little floaty skirt, I could actually smell it. Delicious and sweet and so fucking sexy. That little squirm you would do. How you move your body is fucking sinful. And now I get to enjoy it. You riding me like this. Fuck, if this isn't every fantasy I've ever had coming true.”

By the time his filthy soliloquy is done, you are panting hard, not from the exertion as you rock on him but the way he has pushed you so close to orgasm with so little effort - just his voice and words.

“Ben,” you shudder, “I….” words fail as you feel your body flush.

“I can feel you are fluttering. Are you going to come so soon?” he exhales, impressed. “Oh god, please, please do it,” he urges. “I need to feel it.”

You sit up and reach down to touch your clit, and he swears at the sight. You are tipping over the edge, stilling your movement as you sit with him at your hilt and clench around him. He feels impossibly huge inside you, twitching and pulsing.

“Fuckkkkkkkk,” he groans long and loud, clenching his teeth. You know he is also fighting the urge to come, wanting this to last much longer.

Greedy for more, for another stronger climax, you go to move again, but he stops you.

“Please don't move, not yet,” he pleads, grabbing your hips and quelling your movement. “I need… a few moments, please.”

You smile down at him indulgently and link your hands again, bringing the back of his hand to your mouth and kissing it delicately. Then to be a tease, you envelop his middle finger in your mouth, running your tongue over it, tasting his tangy skin. He growls as you add his pointer finger and suck hard, staring down at him heatedly.

“This isn't really helping,” he warns reluctantly with a playful pout.

You let his fingers slip out of your mouth and guide his hand to your breasts, pressing his now-damp fingers against your nipple. He enthusiastically grips your flesh, and you throw your head back and moan as he teases your sensitive buds, pinching them between his fingertips. You gyrate your hips, dragging his tip against your cervix.

There is another growl, and suddenly you are tipped over onto the mattress, him still buried inside you. He grabs your legs and loops his arms under them, pulling your body so open under him.

“Hold onto me… twine your arms around me,” he instructs.

You do, fingers digging into his smooth, muscular torso. Panting in anticipation; at the feel of him holding you down, his pelvis crushed against your engorged clit.

He begins to move, and you can't help but make noises; he just overwhelms all your senses. His kisses, his skin, his arms, your legs held high and wide. He is almost delicate in his motion, but you can tell he is holding back.

“Don't be too gentle, Ben,” you beg, bringing one hand up to cup his jaw and running your thumb over his bottom lip. “Please just fuck me.”

His mouth captures your thumb, and you gasp as he spears into you hard. You hiss your approval as he crowds over you to kiss you fiercely. Then everything is a haze as your mind switches off, and you are rooted in your body, chasing sensation as he takes you hard. He feels so hot and rigid, pounding into you as you lay under him, pinned and almost helpless to this onslaught but wanting nothing more than being right where you are. For a first time together, it’s not awkward or timid; it's exciting and mindblowing but somehow still safe, knowing you can trust him with everything, including your body.

Between kisses, there are whispered encouragements against lips and hands grasping so tight to each other as movements become more frantic and fast. He is hitting your clit on each stroke and panting, so present in the moment, eyes boring into yours. You know he is so close, hanging by a thread when he screws his eyes shut and pleads with you to come with him. A few more strokes and it is happening, your orgasm hitting you hard and breaking over your body in waves, fanning out from your core as you clench around him, making your muscles spasm and your toes curl. You feel him coming hard, too, a warm bloom inside you as he jerks a few heavy thrusts, then stills, mouth open over yours and huffing gulps of air as he twitches.

After a few moments of deep breaths and slumped limbs, he pulls his face up to kiss you tenderly.

“Wow,” he breathes, and you giggle and nod your head. “Why haven't we been doing that for the last god knows how many years?” he shakes his head, his voice a little ragged and rough-edged.

“I don't know, but we should be doing a lot more of it,” you respond brightly, “make up for lost time?”

He laughs warmly and agrees, taking his weight off you and rolling and rearranging your bodies so you are both on your sides, facing each other, hands laced together, noses touching. And that is how you fall asleep.

—

You awaken to dazzling sunlight streaming in, reflecting off all the snow. You wince against the brightness and clamp your eyes shut, burrowing back into Benedict. You feel surrounded, in the best sense of the word. He is a warm solid presence behind your back, an arm slung around the dip of your waist, a hand curled around your breast, legs entangled, downy hair tickling your calves. And best of all, a hard cock nestles the back of your thighs. You flex your hips and shuffle until his tip is poised right at your entrance. He stirs, and there is a hot exhale on the back of your neck.

“Get inside me, please,” you petition quietly, voice scratchy from sleep.

Wordlessly, he rolls his hips, surging into your body in one swift stroke. You moan so loudly that he huffs a laugh, then stills, buried inside you.

“Now go back to sleep,” he grumbles affectionately, arm pulling you into him tighter, your whole body flush to his, curling his legs up so you are almost in the fetal position.

“Like this?!” your tone incredulous, as his fingernails trace an idle ellipsis around your areola.

“Mmm hmmm,” his hum vibrates into your spine.

“Bennnn…” you protest, clenching around him, so he groans deeply.

“I promise to fuck you so hard you forget your name… later, if you let me sleep just a little more,” he proposes, nuzzling your hair.

What a lovely thought. You lay still in his arms for a few minutes, but his cock holding you open is far too distracting.

“Bennn…” you try again.

“Shhhhh…” he reacts, but you can tell he's not sleepy anymore; there is a smile on the nape of your neck.

“You feel too good; I can’t sleep,” you whine, slightly petulant.

“You’re not even trying,” he chuckles richly.

“You can't do this to me,” you wheedle, your breath hitching triumphantly as he tilts his pelvis and slips a fraction deeper.

“If I fuck you right now, will you stop complaining?” his tone laced with amusement.

“Hmmm, maybe,” you shoot back, twisting to glance at him over your shoulder, seeing his eyes dancing with mirth.

Your lips meet, and it's a breathy passionate kiss, all open mouths and tongues, teasing each other and fighting for dominance.

As your mouths dance, he starts to move at a languid pace, just rocking into your body gently, and it’s the best wake-up you have ever had. You cover his hand on your breast, and he intuits what you are asking, squeezing the swell, your nipple snagged between his middle and pointer finger. You break the kiss, and his teeth gently skim the cord on your neck as he speeds up a little.

“Will you wake me up like this every day, please?” you sigh, not thinking about the implications of your words, just drunk on the sensation.

“Happily,” he rumbles and spears a little stronger, making you call out his name.

“The sound I really want to wake up to though….” his voice teasing and low. “is this one…” and his hand slips from your breast to between your legs.

You moan and writhe in his strong hold, little sparks of pleasure firing where he touches.

“That’s it, that’s the sound,” he encourages as you both move together in sync.

It’s a wonderfully sensual experience, growing in intensity until he rolls you over onto your front, still inside you, fucking into you from behind, covering your entire body with his. His hand is trapped between your body and the mattress while teasing your clit.

“Oh god, Ben,” you cry as he seems to slide deeper than ever, your thigh trapped shut together, his legs bracketing yours, using all his effort to drive into you, the tone shifting from languid to vigorous. You’ve never been taken in this position before, and at this angle, he is hitting all the right spots inside you to make your eyes roll back and bite the pillow.

It hurtles you fast, beginning to pant raggedly, and you urge him on, asking for more and harder, and he obliges, thrusting so strong your whole body rolls and the bed squeaks loudly in protest. Your voice becomes one long moaning sound; you are pushing back onto his cock as much as possible, a chorus of please don't stop as he drives you fast towards a climax. His body is bowed, breathing hot puffs of air across your upper back, with an occasional kiss, his lips soft and wet.

He holds you on a precipice for a moment; you crane to look back at his face pleadingly; his expression is wild and so gorgeous it catches your breath.

“You are magnificent,” he rasps against your skin.

Then the hand not on your clit suddenly spanks your butt cheek while his teeth sink into the top of your trapezius muscle, pushing you over the edge, calling his name as you pulsate hard around him. Him grunting and thrusting deeper, fighting your clenching muscles. Then he stills, and every muscle tenses as he empties into your body, almost shaking from the intensity.

He collapses onto your back, breathing in wracked sounds.

“Fucking hell,” you both say almost in unison, then giggle at your matching assessment of the experience.

He pulls out of you reluctantly and flops down onto the mattress to your left, wrapping an arm around you and manoeuvring so are the little spoon once again.

“That was intense,” he voices, and you make a noise of agreement, lacing your fingers with his and holding your joined hands up, watching his fingers sink between yours and curve over, his fingertips resting on your palm.

“We are awesome at sex,” you opine. Benedict chuckles at that, hooking his chin over your shoulder. “And you know what that means?”

“What?” his tone lilting.

“We just have to keep doing it all the time,” you observe with a mock, burdened sigh.

“What a terrible hardship for us,” he concurs with an ironic laugh, nuzzling your neck with a grin on his face. __

Half an hour later, you have showered together - which proved almost as distracting as morning sex until the hot water tank ran out, and you jumped out squealing as the water turned ice cold - and are now leisurely making brunch. You both only wear towelling robes you stole from your Glasgow hotel room, the fireplace roaring again. You agree to go for a walk in the snow later, neither of you mentioning booking your flight home.

“Wait, why is this sofa so bloody uncomfortable” you bemoan, taking a sip of coffee and flicking idly through a book you took from a shelf. “I don't remember it being this bad last night,” you ponder aloud.

“Well, you had had a couple of whiskeys by then,” Benedict points out as he cooks an amazing-smelling breakfast a few feet away in the kitchenette.

“True, but honestly, what is going on with it?” you grumble, putting the book aside, not yet sufficiently caffeinated.

“Sofa beds tend not to be comfortable. As either a sofa or a bed,” he rattles out, flipping a slice of bacon in the pan.

You grind to a halt in your efforts to get comfy.

“Sofa bed…?” You echo out loud.

He suddenly freezes and realises what he has admitted.

“Benedict bloody Bridgerton!!” you exclaim loudly, standing up, “did you trick me into sharing your bed?!?”

He turns around slowly, knowing he is foiled and pulls a sheepish face.

“Yeahhhh, a lil bit…” he admits as you gape at him, attempting his most winning remorseful smile. “But, in my defence…” he adds, waving the spatula, “you are the one who kissed me first. I just stacked the deck; you drew the first card.”

He expertly swerves the cushion you throw at him before flicking off the stove and pushing aside the pan.

“Right…” he charges at you as you squeal.

He corners you with ease in the compact space and throws you over his shoulder.

“We are using this stupid sofa bed right now,” he instructs and, rather attractively, casually flicks a handle on the side with his foot to open it. He practically throws you onto the (admitted thin, rather uncomfortable) bed and tugs open your robe, snaking his way down your body and throwing your legs over his shoulder, shooting you a molten hot gaze from between your thighs.

You have no arguments with this development. None whatsoever.

—

You return to that tiny cottage every year for that same week as a ritual—a little private anniversary. Sometimes you stay through New Year, just the two of you ringing in the entire festive season.

He buys it for you as a wedding gift, and you cry at the sentimentality of the man buying you the place you first got together. (One thing you do early on - buy a new, comfortable sofa.)

It becomes a haven for your lives together, even when you have to bring cots and camp beds for your children, all sleeping communally in that one room. (You don’t tell them, but all of your children are named after characters in an obscure old book he finds hidden in the rafters when you are renovating while pregnant with your firstborn.)

Nothing brings you more joy than when you can escape to that little cottage in the Highlands. You never tell anyone besides your children where it is—it’s your escape, your sanctuary. The “somewhere only we know,” as Benedict always called it.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld

[thebottomfromhell]

I really wonder if the Upper Moons will celebrate the holidays with their human partner, for whom it will be important, even a little cute. And if so, which ones exactly? How will they behave during the celebration? You can write about all the Moons, or choose a few, as you wish (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

I will only be making the ones of the Uppermoons who would actually celebrate Holidays with their partner [since there are some I think would rather celebrate alone or not celebrate at all]. Japan has a lot of Holidays, so I will be focusing in the Gosekku.

Sorry it took me this long, I hope you like it.

GN Human reader and Uppermoon in holidays. Using the Human disguise Headcanon.

Warnings: Mentioned cannibalism, Implied child prostitution, Implied sexual content, Mentioned drug consumption, Mentioned Self-harm (as in doing things bad for your health at partying), Mentioned Emeto (not in a kinky way, don't worry), Akaza's angst and Douma.

Gyutaro + Daki:

Gyutaro is just ok holidays, but Daki loves them and she is the agency between the two. He makes an effort for his mood to not ruin the festivity for his sister, then he does the same for you. The thing is that he will not celebrate if Daki is not with you both. (After you started having something he started to hold Daki on that same standard "Or Y/N is with us or I won't celebrate at all, ne.")

The Red Light District always celebrates the festivities with parties, special events, carnavals and other things, so you might have to wait for Daki as she may have some clients that night.

Gyutaro lets both you and Daki to dress him up and choose the activities for the holiday, at most he will only ever get gifts and food (mostly human flesh, but at times he decides to get human food for you).

He specially likes New Year and the Tangu no Sekku, the first one because it's the one Daki loves the most, since there is the biggest amount of attractions in that festivity in the streets. The second one... he likes to pull pranks. Since it's a day about purrifying evil spirits he likes to pretend being a powerful one and scaring people off making noise and babbling of "how dare you do your cheap tricks on me, nee.. ne.. NE!" Daki and you end laughing at his antics.

They both also like the Kyokusui, Daki likes making dolls with the more talented children, daughters of the prostitutes. Gyutaro likes to keep ugly ones, comfort and praise the kids that made them. They separate when they do this, but you would be mostly playing babysitter with Daki or playing parent with Gyutaro.

If you give him a gift during this dates he will hide it, you will never see it again, but rest assured he will take care good care of it.

He doesn't do romantic moments under fireworks, he actually hates them. He hides inside Daki when they are about to start.

He takes care of you if you get drunk 🫶

Hantengu Clones & Hantengu:

This guys celebrate together as a family (everyone else bullies Sekido into joining, even Aizetsu) so if you wanted a romantic celebration between your special someone and you alone, forget it. At best you will have 10 minutes separated from the rest, because "If you are going to force me into your shit, you might as well do it properly! This things are meant to be spent with family, so nobody don't get to elope for the night!"

They always go to the biggest event around the area they are in, Karaku and Urogi are the ones to find it, since they are the most excited ones.

Guess who makes sure to fix himself for the occasion? I bet you guessed wrong, it's Karaku! He showers, dresses up, put some accesories, shows off a new hairstyle, puts perfume, wears make up and everything. He will also help you to do so (will offer to bath together, even), he does the same with Hantengu and Aizetsu (Urogi will NOT shower for a party, and Sekido would rather touch the sun than let Karaku put his hands on him). "C'mon guys, we gotta break hearts today!"

Aizetsu and Sekido make sure nobody gets separated or lost while Karaku and Urogi want to try every stand at the same time. Hantengu hides in the clothes of the first two, alternating.

Since they can survive sunlight as long as Hantengu is save, Karaku and Urogi also like to participate in activities under the sun. "Bet I last under the sun longer than you! Y/N, watch me! I will conquer the sun from all my victories!" Specially since the two share as favorite the Chōyō no en, so they take chance at the karasu-sumo, drink sake and eat kuri-gohan and kuri-mochi knowing they should not eat human food.

(They compete to see who can eat more without throwing up, Aizetsu always ends up joining and winning. "It's not a big deal, now if you excuse me.... I need to puke..." he never does in front of anyone, but he let's you guide him into a restroom or alway and comfort him after.)

Sekido laughs at everyone else's misery after eating human food, but you have seen him drink sake. Hantengu, Aizetsu and him honestly prefer the kikkoden, to be able to stay in the shadow/night and make ribbons, wishes and poetry calmy. Karaku and Urogi sing while they see the carnaval.

They actually don't eat these days, since the fact they actually drink (with you if you want to) they severe their stomachs, so they choose one. And they always choose the sake over the flesh. (Also, both Aizetsu and Karaku always manage to get other drugs, cannabis specially, if you want some. Even Sekido and Hantengu take a smoke or two of that weed.)

You can do whoever you want in the activities, but you must always be where everyone in the group can see you and hopefully be doing it with one of the guys.

PDA under fireworks all the way in. Karaku will even dare doing the dirtiest kiss in front of Hantengu and the other clones. Urogi is unafraid of both having you in his lap/arms or being in yours. Sekido would have his arm in your back leaning over you. Aizetsu is into holding hands.

If you get drunk then both Sekido and Aizetsu would take care of you the next day, same way they do with Urogi and Karaku who are probably way more fucked up than you.

Akaza:

He usually doesn't celebrate them, but the second he got into a relationship he wanted nothing more than to do so. "They are not meant to be spent alone. I can't think of a teason to celebrate if there is nobody to do so with."

Akaza is very romantic, he makes sure to make little details and try new things for you. He would dedicate the whole night into having a time and space to be with you and have a good time. Alone and together.

He let's choose what you want to do and you want to eat, he just doesn't eag those days. He also doesn't drink, just likes to spend the night making sure you are happy and taken care of.

He likes New Year the most, but he likes all festivities that include fireworks. That is his favorite part of these days, to see that show. He likes to so it secluded from everyone, just with you.

He holds your hand under the fireworks, there are times he starts crying under them too. He never looks at you when that happens, just at the explosions lf colors in the sky. If you try to ask him what is wrong you will only find him not answering, almost in a trance. He will get a lot more attentive and needy of physical touch/words of affirmation after that.

"I love you. I love you so much. Please stay." He never wants to go back to the festivals after the fireworks, just stay and cuddle with you. If you want to go further with him, he will definetely be in mood. He really wants to love you and feel love after crying like that.

It's impossible for you to get drunk with him taking care of you, that includes taking the drinks away. Still, if you want to be coddled the dah after, he has no problems in doing so.

Douma:

This one is a weird one. Douma usually is part of the the celebrations more than celebrating it himself. In his cult he is dressed up and specially worshiped by his cult members, with prayers, offerings and reunions to listen to him.

Really, those are HOURS where he must basically be the crucifix for the day, you are surprised he even is willing to stay qt the cult (then again, he only gets to feel the boredom of not daing anything. He doesn't understand why he would not keep the tradition, so he does.)

After the official celebration? Douma likes to go wild and take you with him, he would definetely like to eat and drink the same thibgs as humans until he is throwing up his guts ver a corner. He would also eat a lot of women, not caring if you are with him.

Douma would stay up the whole night and will expect you to do the same, he would also need you to guide him throught activities if you decide to elope to a carnaval for the night.

He would not fix himself for any occasions, he is just looking for some fun, the same as always. He doesn't really understand the religious and emotional meaning festivities have on people, he just knows there is a party outside and as a demon he can scape to it. For that same reason he would not have a favorite festivity, but if you have one he would say "What a coincidense, that is also my favorite" and join you in your celebration.

He would do everything to you and let you do everything you want to him under the fireworks, even go to a hallway and get intense (Don't recommend you to, remember that mouth was full of flesh and puke not so long ago).

You think he will take care of you if you get drunk? At best he will have a follower doing so, but with the night you had... is more urgent someone is taking care of him.

[honestlywtfisgoingon]

You’re My Moon — An Obi-Wan Kenobi Fall Fic

OBI-WAN KENOBI x READER

description: you and obi-wan are sent to a planet during their annual masked festival where they celebrate the moons, a perfect date for two jedi secretly in love.

warnings: language, alcohol, smut, minimal editing, creepy guy (yes he’s a zabrak bc maul) obi-wan’s rat tail slander

a/n: ok no surprise the “masked festival” is supposed to be halloween lol. this is 1/4 fall fics that i’ve planned tho and i’m kinda hyped. also i don’t usually write for padawan obi but it just felt?? so right?? also the smut is a lil rough for obi bc i imagine young him to be a lil more, well, rough lol. i’m sry if this particular fic is mid tho i had to deliver a speech, take tests, basic time-consuming college shit yk the drill

words: 4156

"What about this one?" you looked back at Obi-Wan dramatically, your brown robe swishing around. He looked up from the display of masks to see you holding one up to your face.

"not a big fan of the uh," he stepped forward, "the horns," he touched the tip of the pointy horns that extended out. "can't kiss you without being stabbed," he lifted the bottom of the mask up to reveal your true face, the one he had grown to know so well that not even a mask could hide you from him. He leaned forward to give you a small kiss, but you batted him away.

"Obi, no! We're still in our robes," you urgently whispered. You were clearly in Jedi garb, and the few on the planet who knew about the Jedi also knew that two of them shouldn't be kissing each other. He sighed, knowing you were right but still buzzing with anticipation for tonight. He was going to parade you around in, well, an actual parade.

It was luck that sent you to this small planet on the very week they reserved as an extended holiday to celebrate their three moons. They held a festival for each moon; tonight was the first of them. In the past, it was common practice to use face paint or a mask to decorate the face with lunar symbols and motifs. Over many years, the tradition became an opportunity to dress up and disguise yourself as whatever you liked, moon-related or otherwise.

The masks, plus the fact that the neutral planet was relatively unfamiliar with Jedi, made this the perfect date for the two of you. The only thing that could give you away was your braids, but their image of you only included robes and a saber, making Obi-Wan look less like a Jedi and more like someone who just had a stupid haircut. You were far from anyone who would let your relationship get to the council. There was Qui-Gonn, who you suspected would keep your secret, rebellious master as he was. But Obi-Wan was still nervous as his padawan, so it overjoyed him when he realized he would have the ability to hide from him among the throng of mask-wearers if need be. You were working on Obi-Wan being a little less uptight, but being the prudent Jedi he was, he needed a foolproof plan not to get caught on your date, and he had found one.

"As if robes have ever stopped us before," he whispered in your ear before stepping back with a little smirk. You resisted the urge to rip his off then and there. There was something about how he acted so cocky that both pissed you off…and completely turned you on. Perhaps it was the knowledge that when he was a show-off in front of your peers before you were together, the only one he was really trying to impress was you. It could also be that this trait made it so easy to rile him up before he touched you. Maker forbid you show even the slightest bit of satisfaction after he's made you see stars. He only sees it as a challenge and guarantees you won't be able to walk the next day. You would never let him know the effect he had on you in this way, but of course, he could tell anyway, but you liked to pretend he didn't in order to save your pride. You didn't want to admit that with only a particular voice, he could have you on your knees in front of the damn council if he wished.

To preserve any sense of self-control you had left, you merely rolled your eyes and went back to rifling through the racks of the little shop. You stopped when your eyes landed on the black fabric. With a flourish, you pulled it off the hanger along with the mask it came with and held the sheer black robe over your body to show Obi.

His brows rose a little in shock when he saw you. He definitely was a fan; his…approval was made very obvious through the force as you held the matching intricate black mask up to your face and batted your lashes at him.

"I'm going to wear something under it, Obi," you clicked your tongue. He threw his hands up with a little shrug as if he wasn't just screaming his fantasy of you in the sheer robe and nothing else in your heads. Maker, he was such a teenage boy—and you loved him.

Eventually, he found a mask that he liked, but when he showed you, you let out a little sigh at how predictable he was.

"You really don't know how to wear any other color besides brown, huh?"

"It's my color,"

"It's the standard color," you plucked it from his hands, refusing to let him go to a festival looking like a brown paper bag. He huffed in disappointment, not really enjoying shopping anymore.

Now desperate to leave, he was willing to compromise with you when you found a blue mask that you thought complimented his eyes. with a new robe to complete the look, you thought he looked quite debonair. What really sold him was when you told him he looked very handsome. His blush stood out clearly, even underneath his mask. For all his outer confidence, part of him always yearned for affirmation from you and Qui-Gonn, the two people who mattered most to him.

—

Night finally fell, and the moons had risen high in the sky. The people's laughs and shouts of celebration rose almost higher outside the hotel Qui-Gonn had found. You giggled as you stumbled out of the window Obi and you were trying to sneak out through. He shushed you aggressively, but he wore the same giddy smile you did. Once your boots finally met the ground with a thump, you took off and left Obi to run after you. His momentum caused him to run into you when you stopped abruptly in front of the market square. You lurched forward, but he wrapped his arms around your waist to hold you up, keeping one arm around you even after you became stable. He wasn't keen on chasing you again.

Pulling down your masks, you laced your hands together and joined the crowd. It was a bit annoying bumping into everyone you passed by in the crowd, but it was easy not to get past it when their joy began to infect you. You spotted a lively cantina down the way and began to make your way toward it before Obi-Wan held you back. If the two of you were walking into a cantina, he would make sure you ate first. He would carry you to the ends of the galaxy, let alone back to the hotel if need be, but he'd rather not have to at all. Before touching a single drop of anything, he worked his way over to a stand, keeping you in front of him the whole way.

The man in charge was also masked and greeted you in the native language. You and Obi just looked at each other helplessly, to which the man laughed. The two of you were relieved when he switched to basic.

"What'll you have?" He pointed to the different array of skewers, "roasted porg, roast nuna, deep fried gorb…"

"Three of the nuna please," Obi-wan handed the man some credits while he wrapped up the skewers. You gave him a confused look when he said three.

"Two of them are for you. You'll get hungry later," He smiled at you. It was rather sweet how he always thought ahead, knowing you well. You gave him a little peck on his shoulder that you were already leaning on.

"Enjoy yourselves! Don't get a lot of humans out here, especially young ones in love" the man smiled brightly at the two of you when he handed the two of you your skewers. Obi found a streetlight with a large raised base, enough for the two of you to sit on while you ate. You got comfortable sitting between his legs, leaning your back against his chest while he kicked his feet hanging off the edge of the base like a little kid.

Damn, this is delicious

Apparently, you were already pretty hungry, finishing both of the skewers while you laid back, and people-watched for a while. You saw parents chase after their kids who dashed to the people giving out candy, vendors hanging up their aprons to join in with the festivities, and even some fights, which were quickly broken up. No one was allowed to ruin the night.

Once you realized Obi was getting a little too comfortable, feeling his body slump slightly against the lamppost, you tugged his robe, signaling for him to get up. You were on his way to the cantina as soon as he was on his feet again. The music was blaring inside, and the colored lights roamed over the more adult crowd than outside. You were lucky enough to have snagged a table that had just opened up, so you sent Obi off with your drink order and a kiss while you saved the seats that were so coveted in the busy club.

"This seat taken?" A Zabrak man put his hands on the table's edge and leaned over.

"Yeah, it is, sorry," you answered politely. He didn't seem creepy or rude like most men at bars you were always wary of.

"Well, whoever they are, I don't see 'em," he leered.

And there it was. Spoke too soon.

"I didn't ask if you could see them. You asked me if the seat was taken, and it is." You said bluntly, firmly placing your hand on the table to emphasize your point.

"Well, is the pretty little woman taken too?" He pulled out Obi-Wan's seat and sat in it.

The fuck he just said?

"She is, so you better leave," you gritted your teeth, fingers dancing along the handle of your lightsaber.

"Oh, but baby, I'm only leaving if you're coming with me,"

"Where are we going?" Obi-Wan appeared next to you, placing the drinks down on the table. With his hands now relieved, he placed one on your shoulder and the other over his lightsaber, never taking his eyes from the Zabrak's once.

"You're not invited," the man huffed.

"You should leave. Now." Obi-Wan said firmly. You could tell the man was weighing his options on whether to leave or not. He took a step back when he saw the look in Obi-Wan's eyes, but not before he got in his last word.

"Well, she was asking for it in that dress."

Oh no.

Just like that, Obi-Wan had his lightsaber drawn and held up to the man's neck. Some of the people around you gasped and backed up. The man slowly backed away when Obi pressed his saber closer, breathing heavily with anger. Your hand wrapped around your saber as well.

"No fights in this cantina! Not tonight!" A short man, the owner, you assumed, shouted as he made his way into the ring of people that had formed around Obi and that absolute asshole. It took some time for Obi to calm himself enough to deactivate his saber. When he did, the man looked at you, then back at Obi with a sneer before storming off in the other direction.

While Obi-Wan's narrowed eyes trailed after the man, your head fell slightly.

"Was I really asking for it?"

"What? No." His face melted into one of soft concern. “Your dress isn't even that short—but that's not even the point. Even if you wore half of what you've got on right now, you said no. He was asking for me to chop off his head,"

I love you, Obi-Wan.

You stood up abruptly and stepped towards Obi-Wan Your face was filled with an emotion a little less…wholesome as you grabbed his collar and pulled him in for a rough kiss.

"What was that for?" He looked down at you once your lips parted, cheeks glowing red from the altercation and your affections.

"I just wanted to thank you."

"I'm still sorry though, y/n,"

"Don't be. I could've taken him by myself, though," You teased, "besides, it was…well, it was hot," His brows raised.

"Hot?" He questioned you.

"Yeah. Hot. You were ready to end that guy just because he was hitting on me,"

"Well, I—"you were feeding his cockiness once again.

"Don't let it get to your head," You laughed and sat back down, and he followed your actions with his seat.

You could only manage to have a small conversation; your voices were drowned out by the blasting music. You downed your cocktail, realizing there wasn't much point in sitting down if you couldn't even talk. As soon as the liquid poured down your throat, it hit you. You grimaced at the taste. It was a good thing this was a seasonal drink. It was way too intense to have daily. As your mouth naturally washed out the flavor, you watched while Obi-Wan finished his drink. He started hacking when he took his first sip, causing you to laugh. It really was strong stuff. As soon as he swallowed the last drop, you pulled him over to where the dancing was.

Obi-Wan wasn't a big dancer, but with a bit of liquid courage and a lot of love for you, he moved along to the music like everyone else. The lack of space had you two pressed against each other, not that you minded. That was what tonight was for, anyway. You had gone out often with other padawans, danced and drank just as you had, but not like this. You could never have your arms wrapped around each other openly, always ensuring there was an appropriate amount of space between you. Everything you were doing right now was taboo, the masks ironically the very thing that made it, so you did not have to hide.

Obi-Wan's hands slipped from your waist to grip your hips as you moved them to the fast music. They didn't stop there, dropping even further down to rest slightly on your ass. You responded by spinning around to press your ass against him, feeling him grow harder under the flashing lights as you grinded on him. One of your arms rose behind you to play with the hair on the nape of his neck as you continued dancing. Both of you were enjoying this time immensely, the alcohol causing every part of you to vibrate deliciously. But you started to overheat even in your sheer robe and the small black dress underneath.

When Obi-Wan felt his mask start to stick from sweat, you both gave each other a look that meant it was time to take a break. When you got back to the table, hand in hand, it was already taken. You'd forgotten what a hot commodity seating was, but you were still desperate for a rest. Obi-Wan nodded his head to the door, and the two of you stepped out, the cool air hitting you in refreshing waves. You leaned against the wall of the side of the building, catching your breath. When your heads rolled to the side so you could look at each other, you began to laugh.

This was your first real night together without the code on your mind. No council, no Jedi, not even Qui-Gonn around to recognize you. You were just…people. You could feel Obi-Wan's mind wandering in that direction, as it did every so often. He imagined what it would be like if you left the order, got married, and even had a family. The images he shared with you were beautiful, so beautiful that you couldn't take it. Your force told him to stop, that it wasn't the time. Thinking about that now would only make the two of you sad, and you wanted to enjoy this moment. He nodded to you in understanding, his mind moving to a very different sort of fantasy.

He was still hard from the dance floor and wanted nothing more than to remedy that by pulling up your little dress and making you cum all over him. Quite a change from his previous family-oriented thoughts, but this time you didn't tell him to stop; you told him to continue, to do exactly what he wanted to do.

It didn't take him any time to lead you and push you up against the wall in the alley behind the club. He grasped the hair at the base of your scalp and close to yanked it so that your face tilted up for him to place a heated kiss on your lips. You couldn't help but let out a little whimper at the delicious sting of your hair being pulled. It was only fair that you returned the favor by tugging at the hair that was just long enough to do so. He moaned into your mouth at your actions, only spurring him on further. He moved down to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin he had already claimed a long time ago.

"No marks,"

"It was one time. And an accident," he mumbled against your jaw. Cutting your little dialogue short, he slipped his hand under your dress dress to cup your cunt, feeling you dripping through the fabric that covered it. He dragged his middle finger, finding the little dip where your entrance was. He circled it with the tip of his finger, making your eyes flutter and mouth sigh. It was a light feeling of pleasure, but Obi always liked the element of surprise and suddenly shoved two fingers into you, your underwear still on. Already soaked through, it didn't stop him at all. The slight friction of the fabric rubbing against your clit every time he pumped you made your mouth drop open. Stooped slightly to have access, Obi-Wan was now leveled with you and used direct eye contact to strengthen your connection through the force. His lids went heavy, experiencing a bit of what you were feeling. He also felt your growing desperation for him to do something more, and he loved nothing more than to humor you. Strong, calloused hands gripped your hips before slipping under the edge of your dress to pull it up while gliding along your silhouette simultaneously. Not wanting to waste any time, you slipped your hands past the band of his underwear, wrapping your hand around his shaft and palming him up and down, feeling the veins throbbing with blood rushing in arousal. He let out a groan, capturing your lips roughly. When he pulled back to pull down his pants, he reached up with one hand to lift his mask. You grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"Can you, uh, keep the mask on?" You asked, looking down a bit in slight embarrassment.

"Why?" He tilted your chin to let you know you didn't have to hide. He left the mask alone, indulging you but still not exactly understanding the reasoning behind your request.

"It's kind of mysterious," You bit your lip, still a little shy.

He suddenly removed his hands from you, "Sorry, mystery woman, I have a girlfriend," You couldn't help but laugh as you pulled his hands back to cup your face, the rest of him following in for a kiss. You went back to fumbling with his pants, finally pulling him out. You wrapped your hand up and down on his dick, spreading the precum dripping from the tip, red and rock hard. His large hands gripped the back of your thighs, running them up and down a few times to tell you to be ready to jump. The two of you used a combination of actual jumping and the force so that you were lifted with your legs tightly secured around his waist. With his forearms against the wall behind you, his robe draped perfectly around the two of you, a little pocket in this world created just for the two of you to feel each other. You always loved this little moment, just before he entered you, where you saw the flicker of love in his eyes no matter how soft or rough it was going to be. With a groan, he slid in easily, both of your foreheads pressed together in the pleasured reaction. As soon as he bottomed out, a feeling you'd never get used to with his size, he began to fuck you fast. Obi-Wan was never one for quickies. Sex had meaning to him, and he liked to savor it. That's not to say this didn't mean anything to him, but maybe it was the alcohol or the adrenaline from sneaking out that had him entering you hard and fast. Hitting all the right spots inside of you, this was a treat far fucking better than candy. You shared open-mouthed kisses, your movements desperate and wild. Heavy breaths accompanied each thrust; his dick pressed tight inside your walls as you began to pulse around him. The air was crisp and cold, but the shelter of his robe was filled with the heat of sex. You pulled your knees closer to you just slightly, but the mere inch of new access you gave him had you crying out his name. More moans fell out of your mouth freely before you tried to silence them into his shoulder. He shifted one arm so that he could use his hand to cup your jaw, moving your face so you could see him.

"That’s it, that's it. When you come, I want you to be loud. Don't worry, they won't hear you, but I will, and I want to hear you shouting for me," it was true. The music and people would drown you out completely, freeing you to let out what Obi-Wan said was his favorite sound in the world. You obeyed, letting out each swear and moan that he worked out of you. He knew you were close when you began to chant his name until you couldn't manage to chant anything. Every syllable encouraged him to fucking up into you, filling you up repeatedly. You felt him in your stomach and against your cervix.

"That's a good girl, taking all of me like that," He praised you in a low voice. Obi-Wan's eyes were hooded, his pupils almost blacking out the striking blue of his irises. Your head rolled back, and your mouth dropped open. At this opportunity, he painted your neck with quick kisses. You felt his thrusts grow erratic, and his head fall into the crook of your neck with a groan. With your last bit of bodily control, you tightened your legs around him to pull him close.

For a moment, you were so lost in pleasure that you thought the fireworks that suddenly exploded in the night sky above was your imagination. It might as well have been, for your connected forces created an explosion between your bodies as you reached your peak together. You gushed all over him while he simultaneously filled you up with his hot cum. It was hard to distinguish between what you were feeling and what he was feeling. Maybe there wasn't. Maybe the feeling of your toes curling and your nerves flaring as you screamed his name out into the night air was shared. Maybe the spasming of muscles and the rush of euphoria that drowned your senses was truly a one in the same experience with the force.

When the final wave of mingled ecstasy washing over the two of you ebbed, you couldn't even tell the difference between who was dripping out of you, either. He stayed in you just a moment, holding you close just a little longer.

He placed a small kiss by your ear before letting you down slowly. After he tucked himself back in and you had smoothed down your dress, the two of you shared a look and began to giggle like the teenagers you were. He slung his arm around you, leaving another one of his small kisses on the top of your head with an exhausted sigh.

“You know what, you’re my moon,”

“Such a sap,”

“No, really. I’m going to celebrate you for the rest of my life,”

“I’d like that,”

“I love you, y/n. Always,”

“I love you too,”

You leaned on his shoulder as the two of you headed dazedly out of the alley and into the party again. You weren't going to let your night's worth of freedom end just yet.

[kristeristerin]

hello, i have been loving your writings with taylor swift songs! Can you do daylight for my love cassian!! ❤️❤️

AN- I was so excited to get a couple of Cassian requests! (I have a few planned on my own too, so if you're a Cassian girly like me keep an eye out!) This started out a bit more angsty that I'd expected, but I think I'm ok with how it turned out!

The lyrics that really spoke to me where:

I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked

and

Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now

Thank you for the prompt!

As always asks are open for prompts!

Song: Daylight

Pairing: Reader X Cassian

Content Warning: Angst with a happy ending

Words: 623

******

You felt your whole body tense as the members of Rhysand’s inner circle entered the room and sat at the table across from you and Eris. Logically, you knew you were going to see Cassian. He was the High Lord’s general, after all. What you weren’t ready for was the utter coldness in your mate’s eyes as they slid over you, nor the low snarl that escaped his lips when Eris smirked at him.

Once the meeting had begun everyone seemed to be on their best behavior. The necessary information had been exchanged and bargains struck. You were ready to get back to your cottage and pretend your heart didn’t still beat for the male across the room. So, when Eris declared you’d both take Rhysand’s offer to enjoy the festivities you could have killed him.

—-----------

It is two hours and several glasses of wine later when Cassian finally approaches you. The delighted humming of your mating bond alerts you to his presence long before he speaks.

“You’re still with Eris,” his voice is cold, devoid of emotion.

You turn from the revelers and face him, careful to keep your mask in place. “I’ve never been WITH Eris, Cassian. Our goals just happen to align, but I’m not having this conversation with you. Not here, not ever.”

Something dangerous sparks in his eyes and he grips your hand. You don’t fight as he guides you through the crowd and hallways before pulling you into a dark bed chamber. When the door is shut behind you, he rounds on you.

“You owe me this conversation,” he lets out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “You owe me this conversation because all those years ago I came home to an empty townhouse and a note. You didn’t even stick around to have a proper conversation with me. So, if you’re not fucking Eris, what’s so bad that you had to run away from me? That you had to stay away from me?”

Your lip trembles as you look into his wild eyes. When you close your own all you can see are the memories of waking next to him on lazy mornings. The way the sunlight danced on his face as he grumbled that it was too early. You thought about muscled arms wrapped tight around you and sweet kisses that lasted forever, but somehow never long enough. When you reopened your eyes they were filled with tears.

“I was no good for you, Cas,” you whispered. “Despite everything you’d been through you were so damn good. I couldn’t be that, and I was so scared of bringing you down I did the only thing I could think of and I ran. I’ve done terrible things. Things I will never be able to make up for. I’m working with Eris to try to atone for some of it.”

His stare is unreadable for a moment, but then he steps forward and envelopes you in a crushing hug. You tense, before tentatively returning the embrace. When he begins rubbing your back you’re unable to stop the tears.

“We all have a past,” he spoke softly. “I’ve done plenty of things that I am not proud of. I understand having to do what you think is right, but when it’s done will you come home? To me?”

You sniffle and pull back enough to look into his eyes. “You still want me to come back?”

He smiled warmly at you, “There isn’t a single thing you could do that would make me not want you to come home, love. Take your time, do what you need to do, but promise me, you’ll come home.”

You swallow hard but nod at him. “I’ll come home, Cas.”

[jerzwriter]

New Perspective

My entry for @choicesjanuary2024 Day Two: Reflection, Resolutions, Writing a letter to future self, reflecting on aspirations for the year(s) ahead.

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Tobias x Casey Carrick (MC) Featuring: Jackie Varma, Bryce Lahela, SIenna Trinh, Elijah Greene Category: Fluff with a dash of angst Rating: Teen Words: 1,200 Summary: It's New Year's Eve, and the friends stop by Tobias & Casey's before heading out for the night. Once they leave, Casey struggles to say goodbye to her old life as she looks forward to the new. A/N: This story takes place on New Year's Eve 2022 (into 2023). roughly a year and a half after the end of Book 3. It's a month and a half after Tobias & Casey were married.

It was only seven thirty on New Year’s Eve, but the festive mood at Casey & Tobias’s townhome would lead most to believe midnight was moments away. Festively dressed friends bedecked in sequins and satin filled the room as their chatter and laughter filled the air. The drinks were flowing, at least for some.

“Lahela, hand that bottle of Azul back to me before I’m forced to break your hand and your surgical career.”

Bryce smirked mischievously as he toyed with the ornate blue and white bottle, pretending to drop it, which almost put Jackie into cardiac arrest.

“What the hell are you doing!” She hollered. “Don’t you dare spill that!”

Sipping a large glass of Moscato with a giggle, Sienna was amused. “Jackie, no need to worry. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of tequila at Donahue’s later.”

“Yeah, but not this tequila! Do you have any idea how much this shit costs?”

“Why do you think she came here at all,” Casey teased. “It’s strictly for the expensive booze. Free expensive booze."

“Damn right!” Jackie confirmed, to the amusement of her hosts. 

Tobias was sprawled out on an oversized chair in a slightly removed corner of the room, his new wife happily seated upon his lap. While the others looked like they could step onto the pages of Vogue, Tobias and Casey were more suited for the holiday edition of Good Housekeeping. While Casey swirled sparkling cider around in her red plastic cup, Tobias lifted his crystal tumbler and motioned Jackie’s way.

“Think you could pass that down here when you’re done?” He asked

“I’ll be done when it's empty,” she replied, playfully kissing the bottle. “I’m sorry, money bags, but you’re sitting over there all happy with the love of your life. I’ll be damned if I let you separate me from mine!”

“I’d let it go,” Elijah laughed. “I think she may go feral if you try to pry that bottle from her hands.”

“That’s OK,” Tobias shrugged. “I'd rather have a beer anyway.”

Casey downed the last of her cider just before he stood up.

“Want a refill, sweetheart?”

Casey frowned and glumly stared into her cup. “More apple juice. Yey!”

“What are you doing with that Solo cup while the rest of us have the fancy crystal, anyway?” Jackie chastised. “You need to up your game, MacTavish...uh, Carrick.”

But Casey just shrugged as she settled back into the fluffy chair. “If I’m drinking juice on New Year’s Eve, I might use a sippy cup.”

She tried to play it off as a joke, but the tone of her voice had Sienna’s brows knitting in concern. Her eyes met Tobias’s, and he offered a half-smile and an affect that let her know he had it under control. Twenty minutes later, he ushered the semi-buzzed friends out the door. They were off to a night of revelry, but the newlyweds had different plans. Stepping in from the foyer, he placed another log on the fire before heading to Casey. He wrapped his arm around her, and she snuggled into his chest, her hand clasping his old Hopkins sweatshirt.

“What’s the matter, princess?” he asked sincerely. “You haven’t been yourself tonight... wanna talk about it.”

“No,” she answered at once, then had an immediate change of heart. “Yes. I mean... no.”

“OK,” Tobias chuckled. Turning to look at her directly, he continued. "Now, I’m not giving you a choice. What’s up, baby?”

“It’s just...” she tossed her hands in exasperation, then sat back with a sigh. “It’s just that it’s New Year’s Eve, and look it me? I’m wearing sweats that I normally wouldn’t answer the door in, you’re in that ratty old sweatshirt, and I’m practically drinking a juice box.”

“Hey!” He said defensively, “You always liked this sweatshirt.”

Grateful for the levity, Casey smiled, and her mood lightened a bit.

“Forgive me. Your big ol’ pregnant wife is hormonal and moody. In other words, it’s a day that ends in -y.”

“Hey, stop talking shit about my wife,” he said, pulling her closer. “I won’t have that from anyone, not even you.”

Lovingly caressing her hair, he started to think of solutions. “Do you want to join them at Donahues?” he asked. “We’re not exactly banished.”

She shook her head no. “It’ll be packed, not exactly conducive for a pregnant chick. The roads are too dangerous tonight, and, besides, last year, there were so many amateur drunks. If I end up puking, I don’t want any competition.”

“OK, but we could pick up the mood around here if you want. I thought we were going to get dressed up. Break out the good china? Then you told me to stay in my sweats.”

“Yeah,” she groaned. “That's because I didn’t fit into the dress I bought.”  Rubbing her swollen belly, she looked up dolefully. “Our baby’s little growth spurt made it clear they wanted mommy to be comfy, not sexy, tonight.”

“Oh, well, the baby better up their game then because mommy is sexy-as-hell. Nothing they can do to change that.”

She gave a little laugh and took his hand in hers. “I’ll be fine. It’s just that life has changed so much. Last year at this time, the two of us were out painting the damn town red, and now...I don’t know.”

“Well, our little one here was a surprise,” he said while playing with the band on her ring finger. “And I’m sure you weren’t planning on being saddled down with me this soon.”

“Stop!” Casey said playfully hitting his arm. “You know I love being your wife. I love you... and I can’t wait for our baby to arrive. It’s just...” her voice trailed, “I feel like no matter what I say, I'm going to sound ungrateful, and I’m not.”

“Casey, our lives have changed a lot in a short period of time. It’s OK to miss what’s gone, but that doesn’t mean you’re unhappy with where you are. I feel that way sometimes, too.”

“You do?” She asked, annoyed.

“Yeah, I’m allowed, too.”

“I suppose, but in fairness, you got to have a lot more debaucherous New Year’s than me, old man! And besides, I’m the human incubator, not you.”

With a beguiling smile, he held her hand tighter, lovingly placing the other atop her bump. “I appreciate you being the human incubator more than you’ll ever know. So much that I’m going to let that old man comment pass, and I’m still going to spoil the shit out of you tonight.”

“You will,” she said with a genuine smile this time.

“Of course. I made your favorite steak burritos, and I even got you cannolis from Bova’s.”

The fireplace crackled, its dim light casing a romantic glow as she reached over and kissed his ear. “I was thinking there are some other ways you could spoil me, too.”

She didn’t have to see his face to know he was grinning. “Now you’re talking my language. But you still have to eat first. Want to rest here while I finish dinner?”

“Sounds good.”

With a quick hug and peck on her forehead, Tobias was off to the kitchen, and Casey had an idea. She went down the hall to the den, pulled out a sheet of paper, and began to write.

When Tobias returned with a tray of food in his hand, to his delight, he found his wife was in a completely different state of mind. He kissed her forehead with a smile.

"You look better, was it the thought of my steak burritos, or...," he wiggled his brow. "Is it thought of my burrito after that did the trick?"

"It's you," she laughed, pulling him close for a kiss. "It's you... and me. Honestly, this New Year's Eve is probably one of the best ones I'll ever have."

With a relieved breath, he kissed her once more, joy on his face when it ended.

"Well, I know it's the best one of mine," he smiled. "Because I have all I need."

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[mysticonsheadcanons]

Talk Between Arkayna and Zarya after "Game of Phones"

It was late, and Zarya knew she should be asleep, but couldn't. How could she, after she let a video game distract her from something that meant so much to her mom? And to make things worse, due to Proxima taking advantage of her video game addiction, Arkayna could have gotten hurt.

Her thoughts were inturrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in," Zarya said.

The door opened, and Arkayna was standing there. "Is everything OK?" she asked. "I saw your light on."

"It's nothing," Zarya said, looking away.

"Come on, Zarya," Arkayna said. "I know something's bothering you."

Zarya sighed. "I let that stupid video game distract me from something that was so important to Mom. It was my chance to connect to her, and I almost messed it up. Plus, Proxima knew I was hooked on the game, and used that to hurt you by pretending to be me."

Arkayna sat beside Zarya on the hammock. "Proxima and the Vexicons hexed the game, not you. You didn't know that it would happen."

"That doesn't excuse how I was more focused on the game then the Sky Lancer's festival," Zarya said. "And you even noticed it."

"True," Arkayna admitted. "And you did let the game take over. But you tried to fix it in the end, and that what matters."

"Maybe," Zarya said.

"We've all made mistakes," Arkayna said. "Remember when I abandoned the city, and you guys, to save our parents? You forgave me for that, right?"

"Yeah," Zarya said. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Arkayna said. "Well, try to get some sleep. We had a long day today."

[kthynes]

jingle balls

18+

You get very merry with Lloyd.

word count: ~890

warnings: course language. Christmas fluff! Husband for Hire AU (masterlist coming soon!)

This has not been beta’d - mistakes are my own

“This is silly.” Lloyd throws his arms in the air, appearing in nothing but a fleece Christmas onesie that barely reaches his ankles. He stands in the middle of the living room, grumpy as can be.

“It’s cute and festive. Turn around.” You do a finger roll and he obeys your order, giving you a taut 360 along with a great view of his ass. “Hmm…”

“I’m getting zero circulation to my balls, y’know that?” He cups his front and readjusts himself, kicking his legs apart as he does.

“I think there’s a front snap closure…” You sympathize in a daze while shoving handfuls of caramel corn into your mouth.

“Oh good, I can let my wang out for Cujo and anyone else to see.”

“Gross.” You finally snap into realization and Lloyd drops himself next to you on the couch, dunking his hand in the popcorn bowl.

“Why’re we doing all this, sweets?”

“It’s the holiday season. Why not do all this?” You strategically lean into him, his one arm slung on top of the couch as you angle your phone up in position. “Smile for the camera, Hany.”

He smiles. You’re elated. The selfie is candid where you’re looking up at him, mouthing the word ‘smile’ at the final click. It’s sweet, endearing enough to hold onto and Lloyd is equally reverent on it as well.

“I like this one. Send it to me.” He nudges while bringing his attention back to the TV. You smile and nod, pocketing your phone for the rest of the night.

“So this is it? This all you wanted from me?” He motions to the decorated tree, half empty mugs of hot cocoa and packs of beer. An unfinished game of Scrabble and Cujo who peacefully slumbered in front of the crackling fireplace.

“Pretty much.” Your head moves against his chest, fussing to find a comfortable spot, for him to be closer than he already is.

“You good?” Lloyd makes a face and you look up at him, piercing him with a judgey gaze.

“All my exes thought they were too good to celebrate Christmas, they weren’t about the kitschy traditions and galore.”

“And you think I’m spirited like that?”

“I think my pretend boo could just pretend for once.” You harp on sardonically. “Yeah?”

“By literal means.” Lloyd snickers as he snakes an arm around and draws you in closer, shuffling right into his next question. “So how many ex boyfriends are we talking about here?”

“Well you already know about Alistair…”

“Redhead with a temper?” He confirms and you sigh. “He’s an unforgettable dude.”

“The ones that came after him were a multitude. But I don’t wanna talk about them.” You dismiss.

“OK, just remind me whenever they’re around.” He grins from ear to ear, one that’s earnest of him and his diabolics.

“So that you can deal with them?” You gawk.

“Yeah.” He exasperates. You playfully thwart him for that. He’s smitten by the action itself, throwing his head back in deep laughter.

“They’re not my problem anymore. Don’t be that guy.”

“Which one are we talking about?” He lulls and you give him a doe eyed look.

“We’re not going there.”

“Why not? I can tell you about my exes.”

“You dated a whole platoon!”

“Yeah from a sorority.” He answers as if it made the situation any better. “Now if I could go back…”

“Oh all those Ashley’s.” You croon up in his face.

“They were something alright.” He comments while looking ahead. You smelled really nice, nice enough for his hand to fall from the top of the couch to your hip, pulling you in a smidge closer.

“Couldn’t stand them.” You huff, trying to focus on the movie. “They came after me in college because you were around.”

“You know, we could’ve easily dated back then.” Lloyd considers while taking a sip of his beer. He says this in hopes that it would change the current trajectory. But it doesn’t. Sadly.

“No we couldn’t have. You worked for my father and I wasn’t allowed to see you. Literally and romantically.” During your college years, your father deployed one of his men to watch over you. Lloyd was assigned and when he was your guy, all the girls wanted him too. It was hard to make sense of the ordeal when, for the longest time, you had no idea you were being watched.

“It was weird how Tany always asked about you too.”

Tany was your old roommate. Her phrasing would be: ‘where’s gel back?’ You assumed she was talking about stationary.

“That’s cause we fucked on the rare occasion.” Lloyd harmonizes a good memory with a nasty grin on his face, telling of a time.

“In our dorm?”

“And everywhere else.” He sneakily says into the beer spout.

“Ew!”

“Look, not everyone was holding it out like you, alright?” He reminds you of a private conversation you had with your then roommate about saving yourself for marriage. He had the unsaid opportunity to hear you out but paid no mind to it till now.

“I’m not wrong for doing so.” You defend.

Lloyd’s face changes, slighting some concern but not enough to press you on about it. Instead he simply nods and points the remote towards the TV.

“We should get back to watching the movie.” He’s lighthearted and smiles. “The best part is coming up.”

You smile wobbly, reminding yourself that this, you and him, was temporary. You’re not supposed to fully confide in this man. You weren’t supposed to let go.

[shadowcatzone]

i was thinking about xingyue child again today.

That in itself would make a great post i'm sure. Anyways:

Xingyue child being a child that runs, climbs, plays... but nobody has the energy/mentality for them.

Tiny toddler xingyue child who runs around and wants to play

Early morning they push some dried fruit into dan fengs mouth, climbs up on his shoulders and screams "how is it!?" And he answers "mhm" because his mouth is full and he just got up.

Toddler xingyue child who hides, sneaks, and leaps at yingxing the moment they think he doesn't see them (he knows. They're not great at hiding), then he catches them mid jump and twirls them around two or three times. But he's an old man at this point so playtime is usually rather short (also they get scolded by dan feng when they overdo it. Like, both of them)

Due to this, xingyue child's energy goes THROUGH THE ROOF whenever uncle jing yuan visits. Someone they can play with a lot? And no danger of getting scolded? Yeah!! Well he's technically a lot younger than yingxing. And even if the child was TOO energetic for him, yingxing would just see it as revenge for how jing yuan was when he was younger.

They play nicely with baiheng. Nobody knows why. Baiheng is the only one who gets the "calm toddler" experience (mostly because xingyue child just cuddles with them, due to baiheng holding them over her head, claiming they're a starskiff, and xingyue child didn't like the experience.)

They don't play with jingliu. Why not? They don't want to bother her. They're just happy she decided to visit.

The first time they all wanted to bring her to a festival, dan feng started fussing and was like "no. Too dangerous. They can't." Only to be coaxed into letting xingyue child come along because there is no way anyone would go up against all five of them, right? They had a lovely time too.

___

Current xingyue child using the ribbon on blades back as a stepladder to get up on his shoulders. To have a better view.

Running up and down the astral express when dan heng fails to entertain them adequately. Dan heng trying to catch them but this isn't their first life. It's the second and they decided to live it slippery and as a menace.

The entire astral express crew absolutely giving up when xingyue child ate candy from the IPC and now they're high on sugar because they've only ever eaten xianzhou sweets, if anything, which aren't that sweet.

On second thought maybe they're just used to dried fruits because of their upbringing.

Dan heng trying to help them brush their teeth but they don't like it so they bite his arm instead. The teeth barely even go through the sleeve but it's the thought that counts (????)

Take two with blade who just says "are you a good little kid? Good kids get their teeth brushed." And they just let him bc yeah y didnt u just say so.

i don't know why but i think yingxing, and also blade, are somehow better at parenting than dan feng/ dan heng. Maybe a short-life thing. Parental instinct and such. Whereas dan feng just thought every vidyadhara can do this/that from birth (spoiler: they can't bc its literally their first time around) and dan heng is torn between his memories, which suggest they can do this/that from birth, imaginary dan feng who lives in some corner of his mind and claims maybe they need some help learning this/that, and blade, who tells him he's stupid for expecting a toddler to be able to do this/that the reason being x/y/z.

Jing yuan as a babysitter. But really he just sleeps the whole time (or pretends to) and yanqing and fu xuan are the ones actually looking after xingyue child. if he is awake he just takes them to the seat of divine foresight and plays works a bit with them

Xingyue child playing with bailu by following her every step. Like a little duckling. Bailu feeds them a lot. They gain a bit of weight every time they're with bailu.

Ok, the stellaron hunters probably not being as involved. But i can imagine kafka holding them up by their neck/tail and asking if anyone lost their hybrid.

Also xingyue in both lives with an azure dragon plush(?) And dragging it with them always, even though the damn thing is slightly bigger than they are.

[freckle-face-ace]

Portgas D Ace X CisFem Reader **NSFW **

11

Your eyes fluttered open in the freezing room. Two warm bodies sandwiched you in. The smaller curled up against your abdomen spooned in by your upper thighs. The larger pressed to your back, arms twisted around your waist face buried in your nape. Despite their closeness, a shiver rolled up your spine. The house from what you could tell was dark, but that of a cloudy day rather than the middle of the night. How many hours had you slept? Your gaze trailed over the Christmas tree, its festive twinkle now mute. The power had gone out along with the fire.

Ace grumbled against your exposed skin arms stretching out and coiling back around you.

"So cold." He whined hooking his leg over your hip in an attempt to get even closer.

"The fire is out." You murmured resettling. 

"The furnace?" He questioned.

"Pilot light must've gone out."

It was silent for a few minutes before Ace shifted giving the stone fireplace a pointed look. Goosebumps flashed across your extremities as the blanket was jerked away and your main source of heat disappeared. Ace shivered approaching the stack of logs in the basket near the hearth. Poking last night's ashes away he set fresh logs down, this time pausing the place a starter log in the middle. He didn't plan on wasting time growing a fire like yesterday. 

You checked your phone that had been stashed under your pillow. It was almost 2 PM and finally Christmas Eve. Thatch had texted a few times checking each message a tad more stressed than the last. You replied quickly that all was well excusing your delayed response to sleep.

Natures calling urged you from your spot on the floor. Once you gained the nerve you stood turning to glance at the window that normally gave you a full view of the woods behind the house. Snow had piled almost halfway up and appeared to be still steadily falling.

After relieving yourself you stalked into your room to put another layer of clothes on. Meanwhile Ace had a fire started and was in the utility closet trying to light the pilot. He watched mesmerized as the tiny flame quickly devoured the matchstick all the way to his fingertips.

"Ah shit." He hissed stifling the light. 

"You aren't fireproof anymore." You commented rounding the corner with Kuma on your heels.

"I know." He huffed.

"Let me see." You softly took his right hand to inspect the reddened skin on his thumb and index finger, "Looks like you'll pull through." You pressed your lips to the barely injured digits.

"Thanks." He breathed watching you tug your boots on, "Where are you going?"

"Kuma has to go. Don't worry he's quick in this weather I won't even leave the porch." You opened the door letting a frigid breeze whip through the entry.

In the evening you cuddled up to Ace, your tablet propped up in your lap watching a movie you had saved. He distractedly let his right hand roam up and down your back. You hummed at the comforting warmth he provided sparing a quick glance at his freckled face. Glaring intensely at the small screen you cradled, he gnawed the inside of his bottom lip.

"Something the matter?" His eyes snapped up to yours at the sound of your voice.

He shook his head, "It's Christmas, right?"

"That eager for your gift?" you chuckled, "Keep in mind we agreed on making something."

He wasn't just excited for whatever you had made, he was incredibly nervous over what you would think of his gift to you.

"I'm sure I'll love what you've made. Even if I don't I'll pretend I did." he smiled earning a nudge of your elbow.

"It isn't quite midnight, but we can exchange gifts if you'd like."

Ace hopped up offering you his hand. Separating to your respective rooms you both gathered your gifts.

Entering the living room after you Ace placed a red, green and white striped knotted rope in front of Kuma and plopped down next to you again.

"Ok, it isn't much," You handed him the small silver wrapped box.

"Stop trying to downplay your effort." He traded his small gift for the medium sized red and gold wrapped box he'd had stashed in his room.

A tingling heat invaded your cheeks as he eagerly tore the paper and removed the box's lid. His short sharp intake of breath set your nerves on end as he pulled the small strand of beads out cupping them gently in his palm.

"It's just like them." He murmured fondly.

You released the breath you'd been holding thankful it wasn't a bad choice.

"I wanted to make a necklace," you reached over the help clasp the bracelet around his left wrist, "But I couldn't find beads here that would work."

"Seriously this is perfect." His smile reached his eyes.

"We'll go get your birthday gift once the roads are cleared," you chuckled, "so you have a phone while I'm on my trip."

He had forgotten about your summit meeting on the first of the year. The fact you insisted on driving to Boston bothered him even if it was just under two hours away. You did it every year, Ace wasn't going to change that.

"Go ahead and open yours." He nudged you.

You deftly tugged at the taped edges of the wrapping paper revealing a white box. Ace was practically vibrating with pride next to you. Gaze darting back to his smiling face and down again, you slipped the lid off. A brown leather-bound portfolio sat neatly nestled into green and gold striped tissue paper.

"A photo album?" You questioned tracing a finger over the stitching along the borders of the book.

"Look." He urged.

You swallowed gently gliding your finger between the cover and the first page, slowly flipping it open. Page after page of worn yellowing index cards sat before you. Each page had two cards perfectly encased in plastic laminate. Ingredients, measurements, and instructions elegantly decorated each. It had been such a long time since you'd seen your grandmother's handwriting, here it was laid out before you faultlessly preserved for all time.

The warmth of Ace's fingers caressed your cheeks pushing away tears you hadn't realized were there.

"I hope I didn't upset you," his tone was low and concerned, "I found the recipe box in the cabinet and thought you might want to keep them safe."

"No no, it's perfect." You breathed, "But didn't we agree to be cheap and make something?"

"I kind of made it. I arranged the cards and the lady at Staples helped laminate and bind the book." he smiled dropping his hands down to remove it, "There's a little stand under here so you can set it on the counter."

You reached up cupping his face and leaned in for a kiss. Lingering for a few seconds he finally registered and began to kiss back eagerly moving his hand into your hair just behind your left ear. You parted gazing at each other lustfully, noses touching, small pants mingling.

"I'll have to give you gifts more often." Ace chuckled wiggling his brows.

                                                                                          _______________

The beads of his bracelet rustled, softly clinking against one another as he combed his fingers through your hair between heated kisses. Your hands traversed his bare chest, exploring the dips and curves of his muscles and reverently caressing the scarred circle that tied him to you.

A low pleased rumble vibrated beneath your digits. Your hips pressed firmly together as you unhurriedly rocked into each other sending shudders of pleasure through both of you. He'd initially not been pleased with the sensory deprivation caused by the prophylactic, but now completely sheathed in your confined warmth it was no longer a thought.

This was not something he'd experienced. Sex was something for release a necessity he only took part in a few times. There was no true desire, no passion, no want to make it last as long as humanly possible.

His rubies trailed over the beautiful creature beneath him - you; neck arched back, swollen lips lightly parted releasing ragged pants. In a moment of rapture, he pulled back and thrust into you, a quick sharp movement eliciting a flustered call of his name.

Ace's resolve nearly crumbled wanting to hear more of that sound.

"Ace." You echoed melodically pushing him closer to the edge ultimately dragging you to your precipice with his quickened pace.

Crescent dimples littered your hips where his grip slipped and readjusted. Long slow thrusts became quick uneven pumps drawing out more lustful sounds. Ace relished in the pure bliss your voice propagated and lost himself in a fit of shudders with one final airy call of his name.

After a few moments of silence snuggled into the raven's embrace, you suddenly shifted to face him.

"What's wrong?" he yawned.

"What time is it?"

Ace shifted reaching back blindly with one arm to retrieve his new phone from the nightstand, "12:26."

"Shit." you frowned, "I wanted to tell you happy birthday at midnight."

Uncontrollable chuckles rumbled from the freckled male as he squeezed you between his arms.

"I think I got my happy birthday." He kissed your nose.

_____________________

"Please call me when you get there." Ace tugged your suitcase out to the car while you opened the passenger side door and folded the seat.

"I promise." You smiled taking the suitcase and cramming it into the back seat, "You won't even notice I'm gone."

"Oh, I definitely will." He chuckled reeling you into his chest.

"Three days and I'll be right back." You stood on your toes to kiss his lips.

After your prolonged goodbye in the driveway, you set off for Boston.

Ace sat on the bed you'd shared most of the day with Kuma curled into his side restlessly tossing his phone in his hands. One hour turned into two, turned into three turned into five with no word from you. He restrained himself to six calls, each going straight to your voicemail.

Raking an anxious hand over his scalp he sighed and put his phone to his ear.

"Thatch, I think something happened to F/N."

[pensat-i-fet]

An Easter basket of surprises (Benjamin x Pavard)

**I got a request to write about Pavard with no specific topic and after wondering what I could do for him, this is what I came up with. Hope you all like it ❤️**

Word count: 2048

Masterlist

Wattpad

"Remember you have to do the video after training, ok?"

"Impossible to forget when you've told me a hundred times".

I try to concentrate on what matters, training. The team has been asking me to be in more and more videos for social media since I got a couple of individual awards and people learnt my name. I don't mind it when I get to film with one of the girls, but today they asked me to film with a male player. At least it isn't him.

"Are you coming with us?", asks Georgia when I'm done drying my hair.

"No, I have to do some filming for the team".

"Lucky you", she laughs. "See you later, then".

"Bye. Have fun!"

I walk towards the media area and see it's pretty empty.

"Am I early?"

"Not really but everyone has been panicking".

"Why?"

"The player you were going to film with isn't feeling well so they had to go find another one".

Relax, there are too many players on that team. You aren't going to be that unlucky.

"Who's coming then?"

"We'll find out soon".

They ask me to sit and wait and it only makes me more nervous so I undo and redo my ponytail about ten times. I always do that when I’m nervous.

"Hello gorgeous. Looks like we get to spend some time together today".

Of course, it's him.

"Hello, Benjamin. Let's do this quickly so it's over soon".

"You didn't say that last time", he whispers in my ear, only making me more annoyed.

"I didn’t want to be rude. But I was thinking about it".

He laughs, flicking my ponytail, which earns him a slap on the hand.

"Just pretend you like me for a second. It won't be that hard".

"I'm used to pretending and faking when I'm with you".

"Keep telling yourself that".

Benjamin and I had seen each other at team events multiple times but we never spoke. One night, I went out with some friends and we found him and his friends at a club.

After a couple of drinks, we were making out in the VIP area…and then I made the mistake of taking him home with me.

When we were having breakfast, I was trying to see what this could mean. I liked him and I had had a good time…but then one of his friends came out of my flatmate's room and started to chat with us. And saying he was an ass would be being too nice.

Dear Benjamin didn't bother to stop him from calling me all the names he wanted to. And when I told him to go to hell he just told me it was banter and that my reaction proved women couldn't play football because we are too sensitive. It was then that Benjamin finally reacted, by holding me before I punched his stupid friend’s face.

And that was also the last time we interacted properly. We saw each other but pretended we didn't. So it was back to square one. But not really.

"Ok, lovelies, we'll do a few Easter activities so they can be posted around the festivities. And you can talk a bit about the cultural differences between how this is celebrated in Germany and your countries".

"Sure", I say, walking towards the table where they had set all the things we'll be working with.

I don't notice any steps behind me so I turn to see where my partner is.

"Are you seriously staring at my ass?"

"Nope".

But his innocent look is fooling no one.

"Do we have to colour eggs?", he says, looking at the materials on the table.

"Yes!"

He doesn't share our media boss's enthusiasm and that entertains me a lot.

"I love painting eggs, don't you, Benji?"

"Benji?", his disgusted face is hilarious.

"Don't you like my nickname for you?"

"Not really, but it's better than what you called me last time".

I smile at him, proud of my choice of words at that moment.

"But nothing beats the things you called me while you were…faking it".

And the smile is gone.

“We’ll start filming in 3, 2, 1…”.

“Hi guys, we are here to do some fun Easter activities with all of you. We’ll start by colouring some boiled eggs while we snack on some chocolate eggs…no? I’m being told no but too late because I already stole a bowl!”, I show the bowl to the camera and can hear Benjamin chuckling next to me.

“Make sure you send your best designs to Bayern’s Twitter and the winner will get a very special price”.

“A date with you? Oh no, you said special. Must be something else”.

I think for a second that I pushed the joke too far and I’ll be told off and that this bit will be edited out of the video, but everyone in the room laughs and I see that as a sign to carry on.

“Most of our audience is probably just here because of you, so a date with you will be a better price”.

“You aren’t lying. But only the luckiest guys get to date me. And if they mess up…”, I exemplify what happens by throwing one of the eggs to the table and squashing it with my fist. “But let’s paint!”

We concentrate on our drawings, not letting the other see what we are doing. But the cameras do move around us getting some angles of our fantastic creations.

“Ok, this is what I did. It’s the Bayern crest…kind of”.

I look at Benjamin’s drawing and it’s actually not bad so I nod.

“I drew you!”

“Really?”, his tone lets me know he doesn’t know whether he should be happy or scared.

“Look!”

When I show the egg to the camera, everyone starts laughing.

“I think it’s uncanny”.

“That’s Shrek”.

“Yeah…uncanny”.

He shakes his head and moves to get one of the chocolate eggs from my bowl. Our arms brush when he does that and I can feel goosebumps forming on them. I wish I could say his presence has no effect on me but…I do find him attractive and our night together was good. Too good. But he’s still an asshole.

“What’s next?”

“Well, you have to try the traditional Easter bread we have so better stop eating so much chocolate”.

“Oh, don’t worry. There’s plenty of room here for bread”, I say, patting my stomach.

“I can help you burn the calories later”, says Benjamin when he walks past me towards the other table.

“In your dreams”.

“Yeah, you’ve been in those once or twice”.

I don’t want to, but I blush at his words. And he loves seeing me like that.

“No witty comeback about having nightmares with me”.

“No, I’ve actually dreamt about you a few times”. “Really?”

“Yeah”, I nod. “And I woke up feeling as disappointed as the day I woke up next to you so…you might have a point. A bit nightmarish”.

One of the ladies from the media team grabs my arm while I’m walking to the table.

“Look, the banter is good and fun. But don’t take it too far and…sort that sexual tension you two have out before you both explode or something”.

“We don’t…”.

“Sure, honey”.

Is that what everyone in the room is thinking? It feels as if all of a sudden I can feel everyone looking at me and wondering about that. Gross.

So I just sit down, determined to not let my feelings towards the guy next to me affect how I behave.

We are asked about the food we eat in our countries during Easter and Benjamin goes on and on (and on) about the French traditions.

“What about you?”

“Um…I don’t care as much about what we eat in my country but I loved the hot cross buns I ate in the UK when I played for Chelsea. I wish I could buy them here”.

“I don’t know what those are”, says Benjamin.

“I’ll show you a photo later”.

My response makes him raise an eyebrow. Am I going to get judged for being bitchy but also for being polite?

I’m still eating some of the bread when we are asked to go do the final activity.

“Ok guys, we’ve hidden some eggs and you need to find them. Whoever gets 6 first wins!”

And if there is something that my partner and I have in common, it’s our competitiveness. So the moment we hear the instructions, we are already moving around the place trying to find the eggs.

“I’ve got 5!”, I yell. “How many have you got?”

“4…but don’t distract me”.

The first few were in pretty obvious spots but they really knew how to hide the rest. Do they want us to be here all day?

I spot another one and run towards it, but so does Benjamin, causing us to bump into each other. And because I’m really that lucky, I fall on my bum.

“You ok?”, he says, kneeling to check on me.

“Just embarrassed and my bum hurts”.

“I could kiss it better if you want to”, he winks.

“You wish you could do that”.

“Yeah, I wish I could”.

When I take the hand he’s offering to help me get up, I stare into his eyes and something happens. I don’t know what but…it is something strange.

“Mine!”

When I finally recover from our weird moment, I realize he took the egg with him, tying us with 5 eggs each. Whoever gets the next one wins.

We keep running around and then I see another egg. But…I’ve looked there so many times already and there was nothing. I look back and see Benjamin still away from me so I get the egg quickly.

“And six! I won!”

“Congrats”, he says, staying where he was.

We are told to do a little outro and then we’re done. Finally.

“He let you win”, says the sound guy who’s taking my mic off.

“What?”

“He saw the egg somewhere else and put it on the floor so you would find it”.

“But why would he…”.

“Maybe because it’s pretty obvious that he likes you”.

I don’t like having so many people around me analysing my relationships with people but…maybe they have a point?

“Hey!”

“Are you talking to me?”, it’s funny how surprised he is.

“Why did you let me win?”

“I didn’t…”.

“Save it, someone told me you did”.

He looks away and takes a deep breath. “I knew it would make you happy”.

“Why do you care about my happiness?”

“Because what happened between us could have been more than a one-night stand and I have been thinking about it ever since. And because I'm not the asshole you think I am”.

He had? I…well, I have thought about it. But then I always remembered his friend and I got over the idea.

“But you won’t give me an opportunity because my friend, that’s no longer a friend, was rude to you”.

“That’s not the reason. The reason is that you didn’t say anything. When he was calling me a golddigger or saying women couldn’t be professional footballers, you were quiet”.

The realisation hits him finally. “Sorry, I should have said something. I mean, I said it when we left. I haven’t seen him ever since”.

That…that changes things. Whether I want to face it right away or not.

“Are you planning on being his friend again?”

“Not when he treats other people like he treated you. I have no time for people like that”.

I nod. “Maybe I could give you a second chance, then. With no alcohol and douchey friends to bother us”.

“Really? When? Now?”

“Relax. I’ll tell you when I’m ready”.

I take my bag and open it to give him his Easter gift.

“Here’s your portrait on an egg. Keep it on your bedside table so it reminds you of me until I decide when you get to woe me”.

With a smile on my face, I walk towards the door that leads to the parking lot. But before I leave, I turn around to look at Benjamin again.

“Stop staring at my ass”.

“Date me already so I can do more than staring”.