#I need half of my day on a rigid schedule and half to do whatever the fuck I want

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Anyone have any experience working for DoorDash, Uber Eats, or the likes of them? How is it, and which one is best?

[novlr]

Hi I’m interested in writing, but idk how and where to start. Any advice?

Starting your writing adventure can seem daunting, but it’s actually the best time to have fun and discover what the craft means to you. And to get started with writing, I have a few basic concepts to consider.

Whether you’re writing poetry, a novel, short stories, nonfiction, or even screenwriting, the below concepts are versatile, and work as general steps on how to start.

Let’s dig in!

Start small, build a habit

The first thing to do to get started with writing is to actually start writing. Earth-shattering response, I know.

Start with finding a small routine that works best for your schedule and try it for about two weeks to gauge if changes are needed.

For example, you can spend five minutes during lunch every day to type whatever is on your mind. Then, once that becomes an instinctual habit, increase it to 10 minutes. You can also experiment with half-hour increments every other day, or, your routine becomes writing a few hours on the weekend because of your work schedule.

There’s no magical writing routine you should force yourself to do. Everyone has their own pace, and it’s up to you to find yours. There’s no wrong answer to this.

Experiment, adapt, and find your flow. Finding a routine can take a few tries, and that routine can also change after a significant life event (you can also have a different version of the routine for low energy days). So no need to be rigid with yourself. But once you find your flow, do it as consistently as possible.

As for what to write: write about your day, let out an emotion, tell a story from childhood, practice talking as a character; whatever fancies you at that moment. As long as you’re writing, whether it’s 5 or 5,000 words, you’re doing it right!

P.S. Looking for more on building a writing habit? Our course “Write to Play” helps you get started with writing and learn to enjoy it! Our Discord Community also hosts weekly writing sprints and other activities, so you can connect with fellow writers and work on goals together. Both are free to join.

Ask why you want to write

Writing may look like a glamorous career or hobby, but as with many things, it takes effort. And your level of writing effort depends on why you write in the first place.

Some people get started with writing because they think publishing something will make quick bucks. But it should never be about the money (although money is a nice bonus). Writing is about community and entertainment via the oldest form of connecting with others: storytelling.

We write because we love to tell stories. We write because we want to share a message with others through written expression. We write because we are natural creators of worlds and characters that weave adventures.

So ask yourself why you really want to write. Do you want to connect with others through your personal experiences? Is there a message you want to share with the world? Do you want to entertain the masses with meaningful adventure? If the answer to any of those questions is yes, great news! You’re on the right track.

If you need a “why” example, I’ll give you my reason for writing poetry and fiction. It’s to advocate mental health and self-worth.

After going through a personal journey of discovering self-acceptance, I want people to follow their hearts and core desires, and to love themselves for who they are. Because that’s true happiness–valuing your core identity.

Genre and theme

Genre and theme are two vital things you need to get started with writing.

Genre is fairly straightforward. Most aspiring writers already have one in mind. However, if you’re not sure where to start, think about the genres that your favorite books, movies, or TV shows are, and go from there.

Do you like epic fantasy and adventure? Try the action genre. Do you enjoy dystopian settings questioning the ethics of society? Society and worldview are great for getting deep and philosophical. Or do you love a character rising to the top with a successful career or sports tournament? Look into performance and status.

Theme takes a little more effort, but if you spend time on your “why,” that will help significantly! Because the theme you write about, from a poem to a novel, typically derives from your “why.”

Take my own “why” again as an example. Since it’s about mental health, I spend my days on themes of self-discovery, societal influence on “success,” inner demons, acceptance–the list goes on. But they all come from my overarching goal to show how valuing your true self brings real happiness.

Here’s another example: say you have a personal experience of winning a sports tournament because you pushed yourself, even though you wanted to give up. Perhaps that’s inspiration for a project with the message, “with effort comes reward.” That theme opens all kinds of opportunities, from looking at the best-suited genre to what kind of story and character to write about.

Which leads to my next concept! 

Characters and story basics

Genre and theme play right into your characters and story. This is where we dive into some mechanics of storytelling, starting with the concept of story and characters, and then how the theme and genre affect them to create a basic project outline.

To start, your story is the external sequence of obstacles your character faces, leading to learning the theme at the end. Your character is the one going through the story’s external events while internally processing them.

Your theme then determines the “what” in your story: what message the story shares to readers at the end, and what core events lead to the theme reveal. Meanwhile, the character(s) are the “who” being affected by the theme throughout the story.

With that, the theme determines the beginning and end of your story, as well as the path of growth for your character to experience. This is the bare minimum you need when writing a project, like a novel or short story. Even if you don’t use outlines.

For the end of the story, we already mentioned the theme reveal; and that’s typically portrayed through the character facing a final challenge–like a big boss fight. And through that challenge, the character grows from learning the theme. So the theme dictates the end of the story by what the final event and message are, and who the character becomes after growth (or lack of, for tragic ending). 

From there, we can move backwards to the beginning of the story. In storytelling, the ending is the opposite of the beginning. So, if the story’s end has a character learning the theme through a final challenge, then the story’s beginning introduces that character with a major flaw to overcome by learning the theme; while starting the sequence of obstacles that eventually leads to the theme reveal at the end.

Just like that, you have the theme crafting the basics of your story with a dynamic character!

But let’s dive further with genre. Genre helps plot the “how,” as in, how your story and character’s journey are told (i.e. action, romance, etc). Each genre has specific conventions for a story to follow, thus acting as a great template to plot lengthier projects like novels.

For example, romance genres start the story with two characters meeting as potential love interests (the meet cute), and typically end with them falling in love. Thus, if you choose romance as your genre, then you work your theme, story, and character(s) into those parameters.

Once you do that, you’ll notice you’ll have a basic outline for a project. Shall we go through an exercise to see the magic?

Let’s go back to the theme example of “with effort comes reward,” and combine it with a character, story, and genre.

Based on that theme, the character needs a major flaw at the story’s beginning, one to overcome by learning the lesson. Also, the beginning starts a sequence of obstacles that must lead to the character getting rewarded from effort.

So let’s create a character who believes everything comes easily to them–someone born into a rich family and had everything handed to them at a young age. That’s the flaw. And for the sequence of obstacles to start their growth, we’ll have the character lose their inheritance, forced to figure out how to live on their own.

These obstacles become the hardships of living without wealth. That way, by the end of the story, the character comes face to face with the theme, realizing if they want “reward” (or perhaps fulfillment), they must put effort into what they do. The story thus ends with the character growing and understanding it’s worth working toward something.

Now add the romance parameters mentioned above for genre. After the character loses their inheritance, they meet someone at a local store; one who becomes friends and helps tackle the character’s personal dilemma. This also helps the character realize genuine happiness as they also fall in love. Therefore, they find their path through their own efforts, without inherited wealth, and live happily ever after.

Tackle that mindset

There’s only one mindset every writer needs to have before they get started with writing, and that’s this phrase:

Perfection is failure.

Trust me, as a healing perfectionist, that sounds wild. But here’s something crazier.

Not even your published work will be perfect.

You will always reread your work and think a word needs tweaking, or a character needs different reactions in dialogue. Some published books still have typos, too.

With projects like novels, most writers never finish their first draft because they spend time and energy editing the story as they write. To perfect it as they go.

But you don’t know how the novel goes until you write to the end of it. 

Like creativity, your project will change and flow. Especially in the beginning, as your first draft is the discovery draft; the foundation of the project. That’s not the time for tweaking, but the time for building.

So allow your first draft to be messy. Get the whole concept out first. Then, you will have better knowledge on how to edit the entire project. Not just parts of it that might change anyway as you get closer to the end. Don’t waste your precious time and creativity like that.

This is the same for me with poetry. I always focus on the poem’s core message first, then I’ll play with pretty prose and rhyming.

So focus on the journey of writing the draft and getting the full idea down. Again, creativity is fluid. Allow your writing to be the same.

My favorite book coach discusses perfectionism with the analogy of baking a cake. You can’t put icing on a cake without letting it fully bake first. Finish baking your draft to the end, then add the icing edits.

And there you have it! Those are my five main concepts to remember to get started with writing. And those are merely the tip of the iceberg of what the craft has to offer you–but remember, this is the time to have fun and discover!

Are you ready to dive in and get started with writing? I can’t wait to see what you create.

Happy writing!

[jmdbjk]

#FOR FREE

I see Joon's feet trending under the #FOR FREE tag but excuse me? We got THIS FOR FREE for thirty plus minutes?

I'm still very speechless.

Jimin playing hard to get.

Jimin telling JK needed to go to sleep because he had schedules later that day, basically making sure JK stayed on-task.

Jimin saying he STILL gets scolded by JK.

Jimin shutting down any ideas of a live with JK.

DAMMIT JIMIN YOU WERE LOOKING FOR SOMEONE TO DO A LIVE WITH A FEW MONTHS AGO COME ONNNNNNN!?!?!?!

Yes, JK literally has tried to lure Jimin with food, beer, working out, beefcake (flexed his bicep), he's asked coyly, assertively and begged unabashedly. Even Armys tried to convince Jimin.

The comparisons of this to Seven's MV are hilarious... yup, next thing we'll see is JK faking his own death serenading Jimin from his casket.

"Come on Jimin, let me come over, I'll bring my shower stuff and we can do it in the shower... I mean from the shower... or just whatever, pleeeeeeez...."

Knowing Jimin's default is naked while at home and him texting JK a pic? Please can y'all stop sending dick pics to each other while we are watching?

K-Army is saying the tone of voice JK was using, the context, the polite/casual speech they both used was off the charts couply. A lot of us are international Army and all we see are straight up dry translations and can't really understand how important all those things are in communicating in Korean society. It is easy for I-Armys to interpret the dry translations differently than how Koreans interpret them. I depend a lot on what K-Army says and defer to them as to how to interpret Jimin and Jungkook's relationship.

But seriously, even I could tell JK was speaking in satoori when he was chiding Jimin about saying he wasn't in condition to do a live... "we don't worry about that Jimin, we just do it when we feel like it."

Jimin: "you've forgotten what my personality is like"

I can hear Jimin now... "I don't have any makeup on..." Jimin-ssi. Please. Slip off your chelsea boots, leave your hair alone and relax a little. It's not like you've NEVER done a live before with no makeup and bed head.

We have JK on one side being the free-spirit/in-the-moment-go-with-the-mood vibe and Jimin on the other side being rigid and in total control of everything.

I'm still salty because Jimin censored himself during his Face album live when he realized there were young people watching as he was about to explain his concept of looking in the bathroom mirror in the Like Crazy MV.

I see a collision happening with these two mindsets and I think Jimin sees it too hahahahaha! "I'M SCARED OF YOU!" he doesn't know what kind of shenanigans will happen when they are together on a live because we also know Jimin LOVES HIS JK and can't resist climbing all over him when they are together!

Who could resist that:

Jungkook swapped the stud in his newest lip piercing for another lip ring and he re-pierced his right ear and the jewelry is very pretty. The earrings have a very fine chain hanging from the first to the last hoop. Edgy and delicate at the same time.

We have expectations now for his next live. Keep moving those chains JK! Maybe joking about a live while showering is not such a joke after all.... I'm kinda scared too, Jimin.

JK's July 27 live:

I had started a blog post about the July 27 two and a half hour live but NOOOOoooOOOOOooo, JK has moved the line again with the naked-in-the-bed live, so it's almost pointless to blog about the one from the previous day now.

Except I was thrilled when he responded to my ask if he had seen Jimin's Barbie guitar. What a thrill to interact with him in real time... I'm still just... wow ...

But a few things I took away from that two and a half hour live:

JK getting so emotional when he watched and listened to the Army Love Letter song. I broke down in tears as soon as I saw him being overcome.

And the live translating is not automated, its done by real people:

About 15 minutes into this purple 2.5 hour live, someone must have asked about Tae's album because JK says yes, he's heard a few songs and they're good. I am very excited to hear what Tae has created, especially after seeing the music critic say it is something unexpected. Of course, Tae's love for Bing Crosby-ish vibes could be what he's talking about and that wouldn't surprise me if that's the direction Tae goes. Later, someone in the comments asked if Tae would do a Seven dance challenge with him and he said Tae wouldn't do it. Why not Tae? Hmmphf. Fine.

Anyway...

Right before logging out, JK sang Jimin's Dear.Army (Letter) swaying back and forth so sweetly!!!! It was so beautiful. Might be the closest we come to hearing them singing it together. He loves that song.

Tomorrow we get to watch JK's episode of Suchwita and the day after that we will see him on Inkagayo.

All of that and I still think about Jimin and Jungkook had a camera crew with them on that dang boat in Connecticut a few weeks ago... if it was for a Seven TikTok, shouldn't it have been out by now?... so where will we eventually see that? Hmmmmmm???

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.23

A Royal Invitation

05/02/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,960

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, language

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this one. It took me forever to get out after several life events that just couldn’t be ignored or put on the back burner. I had a lot of fun in the second half of this chapter and I hope y’all find it as entertaining as I did. Let me know what your favorite parts are! I’d love to know. As always, thanks for reblogging if you happen to do so. xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The city is in celebration for three nights after you come home.

They’re not necessarily celebrating your return although that is part of why they’re happy, but the baby. The baby is already so loved. The baby is the city’s hope and future.

You can feel their exuberance when you and Thor take a walk through the city, flanked by Valkyrie with Loki on your left walking just slightly behind you.

He’s busy but smug and keeps his fingers moving swiftly across the screen of a tablet provided by Tony Stark who’d left the city taking Bruce with him back to the United States on Avengers business.

What Loki is doing, what's got him so glued to his tablet, you don’t find out until the evening of the first day of celebrations.

As your people’s cheers, laughter, and music filter in through the long wall of windows that Thor’s had thrown open to let the joviality in, Loki crosses to the long couch across from the one where you sit with Thor.

Legs thrown across his lap, Thor’s hands gently massaging your calves and feet, you lean back against the cushions that Thor set up against the arm for you.

The sitting room is long, rectangular and faces the East side of the palace. You can’t see the entire city and have more of a mountain view than on the West side where your rooms are and you can see the expanse of the ocean.

Like the rest of the palace, it’s decorated in a mixture of wood and silver steel. The chandeliers above are carefully carved and wired, the lighting kept dim. The seats are also wood but covered with soft cushions for lounging and restful naps.

There’s a slightly simpler look to this sitting room. Relaxed.

Before you’d taken your break from being Queen, you hadn’t spent much time in this part of the palace. Nothing had called to you. The garden had been the only spot you’d sought out but this sitting room is quickly becoming your favorite.

“I like it in here,” you confess, smiling at Thor who’s still squeezing your foot gently.

He smiles and meets your gaze, “Why’s that?”

“Because Jane was never in here,” Loki supplies, swiping left on his tablet then turns it to face both of you. “We’ve got more energy signatures. New ones.”

You and Thor sit up a little straighter.

“What quadrant?”

Loki purses his lips and then turns the tablet back towards himself cutting off your look at a map of the night sky.

“All of them. Whatever it is, it’s jumping around. I think perhaps they know we’re watching.”

Swallowing hard, you scoot closer to Thor, pulling one of your legs down as you twist to face Loki a little better. Thor takes hold of your thigh instead as it rests over his and wraps his other arm around your waist, eager to have you close.

Both of you haven’t stopped touching each other since your return last night.

“What does that mean? If they’re trying to confuse us, then they’re headed for us, right?”

“I won’t let anything happen to you or our little one, cherub,” Thor’s reassurance comes softly, his smile confident but soft. “Whatever this is, we’ll be ready for it. Have you sent the data to the others?”

“Sif is coming in for a debrief and we’ll send her to relay the specifics in person. It will need some explanation and Fandral will probably only skim the information if we send it to him via email.”

“We must have all of our troops trained for whatever attack is to come. I’m not going to let someone jeopardize our place here on Earth. We will protect our people but we will show the humans that we will defend them too from any threats to come,” Thor declares, his voice deep and determined, even angry.

He doesn’t like someone threatening his new home. Not after what happened to Asgard. The stress is in his eyes and you lean against him which you’re glad does what you want.

It distracts him.

“I had Stark build you a safe room. He called it a panic room, I think? So, should something happen, you’re to go in there and lock yourself in while we deal with any threat.”

You nod but push yourself back again to rest against the arm of the sofa while stretching out your legs again. It feels good and you sigh heavily as you rub your belly. Sitting scrunched up like that had been annoying.

“I have been training though. Even pregnant. At home, Loki would spar with me and help me with my technique. The short swords aren’t heavy anymore.”

Thor looks at his brother who sits smiling proudly at you before he notices the edge in Thor’s electric blue eye.

“It was all done safely. She and the baby were never in danger. I thought it was foolish to have her out there without her swords and the training to go along with them. Just because she left didn’t mean that she could slack off. Don’t give me that look. You know as well as I do that she needs to know. Even carrying your child, it’s important for her to know. One might even say especially because she's carrying the heir."

Loki’s voice grows steadily more subdued. Sad. Like a bad memory is playing itself over in his mind.

“I was too late, Loki,” Thor interjects, drawing your gaze to him too. He also looks sad. “And if you hadn’t been in that cell you’d have been long gone. Neither of us could have saved her. And you’re right. I know how important it is.”

Thor looks at you and takes your feet back in his hands, “I’m glad you trained. Once our child is born you’ll have to show me those skills of yours.”

Despite the playful nature of his taunt, you can see that he and Loki are both still in the depths of their grief. They must be thinking of their mother.

"So, these energy signatures, you still have no idea who could be causing them?"

The question is pointless. You know they don't know but it's something to say when all you can do is worry silently.

“I have theories,” Loki admits, exchanging a careful look with Thor. “But nothing concrete. Nothing that would put you at ease.”

“I don’t need to be put at ease, Loki. I need to know if there’s something to worry about. This doesn’t just affect our family but our people. If we need to warn them, we can’t be hesitant. Earth deserves a heads up, too.”

This is your job right? The voice of both your new Asgardian family and the people of Earth? This is why you were required to marry Thor.

Thor’s hand increases in strength around your foot as he tries to calm you.

“You’re right, cherub. Loki only means that there is no evidence to prove his theories so until we can find something to link these strange power surges to what he thinks it might be, then we should play this safe and hold off on raising any alarms. Isn’t that right, Loki?”

“Mm,” Loki agrees, nodding.

You frown, pulling your leg off of Thor’s lap to sit down properly and face both brothers. They sit up a little straighter in response to your own rigid back, your hands on your lap.

This isn’t right, whatever they might think.

“No,” you shake your head and watch as Loki puts his tablet down.

Thor scoots forward, reaching over to take your hand. You let him because he’s not trying to comfort you anymore. Instead, this reach is one of support and when you look at his singular eye, the patch on his empty socket gleaming softly in the dim light of the room, you can see he’s intent on listening and understanding.

If Jane has made any positive impact on you and Thor, it’s this. He’s really listening to you.

“Thor, you and the Asgardians are a unique people. You’ve all had it hard and I’m not trying to say that your struggles haven’t been difficult, but by nature, just by the very way that you all are made and born, you are stronger. It’s in your body’s makeup.

“For someone like me, if I were to jump from that open window, I would die. If you or any of the other Asgardians jumped from that window, you’d probably ache for a while, maybe a few would even get a few broken bones or cuts but they’d be superficial wounds.

“You know from experience how fragile humans are. Both of you,” the look you give Loki pulls his gaze down to his feet. “We’re unprepared for anything other than each other. We need more of a warning than you. We need time to prepare.”

It all falls into place in your head and with confidence you turn to look at Thor, turning your hand over to take his in your own hand.

With a quick squeeze, you scoot just a little closer to him, “Thor, I need to speak to the ambassadors. We need to schedule an official meeting to give them the rundown on what we’ve been doing here and what we’re keeping an eye on. Because, knowing Tony, I’m sure he hasn’t said anything to anyone outside of the compound?”

Loki sits back, crossing his legs as he shuts his tablet off, “No. Stark is as preoccupied about raising the alarm as we are. But now that you mention it, I suppose both we and he are not looking at this from a regular civilian of Earth’s point of view.”

“Y/N,” Thor calls your attention back to him, “This could backfire. We could be doing more harm than good by sharing with them the information we’ve gathered.”

You shake your head, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m jumping the gun here. The last thing I want to do is cause a panic. But I don't think that’ll happen. It’s not like we’re going to leak it onto the internet. We’re going to meet with the ambassadors and provide this information to world leaders so that they can prepare the way they see fit. Trust me, these prime ministers and presidents and kings aren’t going to just announce to their people that some alien threat is on the way. They don’t want to look out of control or unprepared.

“We need to give Earth’s humans a chance to defend themselves. Even if they end up needing our help, they deserve to know.”

Loki and Thor are silent for what feels to you like a long time. In reality, you know it must only be seconds. However, this is the first time you’ve pushed back with them. This is the first time you’re speaking on behalf of the human race.

It makes you nervous and anxious. Will they let you be Queen in this sense? Or is it all just show?

They look at each other, staring and communicating silently before Loki gets to his feet and turns his tablet back on.

“Well, if I’m to set up a meeting with the ambassadors, NATO, and the UN I should probably get started.”

Your heart explodes with pride. They’re letting you really rule! You’re making a difference. True change. Your excitement mingles with a sudden terror as you realize that your choices are going to affect what will be millions if not billions of people.

Luckily, Loki’s words also serve to distract you from your trepidation.

“Wait, Loki,” you hurry to your feet and scurry to his side before ripping the tablet from his hands and hiding it behind your back.

“Hey,” he protests, reaching around you to try and grab it.

You hurry back to Thor and instead of sitting beside him you plop yourself onto his lap and sit as close as you can to trap the tablet between your bodies.

You can hear Thor’s heart begin to pound. Aside from those kisses yesterday, this is the closest you’ve put yourself to him since you got back. He’d slept with you in your shared bedroom, but he’d laid facing you and you him, a good six inches between your bodies.

He wraps his arms around you, placing his hands along the swell of your tummy. You can almost feel him glowing with happiness.

“As eager as I am to give Earth a heads up, I also think you need a break. The energy isn’t going anywhere and the Warriors Three and Sif are on the watch. Please do me a big favor and just take a day or two? You’ve been at it like crazy since I left the palace and it would make me so happy if my baby’s Uncle Loki would take a breather. He’s gotta be strong and in tip-top shape if he’s going to keep up with his future nephew.”

“Or niece,” Thor interjects. “She’s right, Loki. Rest. We’ll get back on this in two days and you can set everything up then. The city is roaring with celebration. Go out and enjoy it. You always loved a good party.”

Loki glares at the pair of you, “Using the future prince or princess is blackmail. And if I’m out there, what will you two do?”

Thor smiles at him, reaching between your bodies to grab the tablet from where it’s hidden. He sets it aside and his other hand trails over your side before wrapping around your waist to cup your bump again.

“I’m sure my queen and I will find something to keep us occupied. Making up for lost time, perhaps?”

Your neck burns but you grin up at Loki who fixes you with a knowing smile, “Of course. How silly of me. Well, let me not keep you from reacquainting yourselves with each other. If you have need of me, I will be around. Just call.”

“Have fun, Loki,” you call after him.

As he shuts the door, Thor tilts your head to the side, pulling you back against his chest fully so that he can kiss you without prompting.

“Sleeping beside you once more was dreamlike, cherub,” Thor tells you, low and full of want.

“And what would make it more real for you?”

“Shall I show you?”

And he waits, like the jerk that he is. He literally just dangles the carrot in front of you. His hard body pressed against your back, the heat of his legs seeping through your clothes to your skin.

His hands trace tantalizing circles around your stomach but make the slightest tickles to the fold of your pelvis. You hate him!

“Oh my god, hurry up, dummy.”

That’s all the invitation he needs. In an instant you’re in his arms as he settles you on the sofa, his hands already yanking and pulling at your clothes but when your tummy is exposed, he drops to his knees and worships your pregnant body with gentility and softness.

At least until you growl and yank him up to finish what he’s started.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sheets against your skin feel soft as silk. They’re slightly sticky but that’s more to do with your own body’s sweat.

“Why are you up?” Thor’s voice is heavy with sleep.

It’s thick and rough. It makes you smile and your ears burn because he sounds delicious and you missed mornings like this.

“I’m hungry,” you admit.

Thor tumbles from the bed, dragging with him the heavier faux fur blanket that sits at the foot of your bed for decoration usually. He wraps it around his waist and pulls the cord by the door.

“I already called them, puppy,” you assure him, and he smiles sleepily at you before moving towards you.

“I missed my term of endearment. Why a dog?”

As he reaches you, you open your sheet and his eyes roam the length of your naked body before he gets all handsy and dives into the sheet with you, eventually settling his hands on your bum. No groping, just resting. Then slowly he trails his fingers up along the sides of your back up to your shoulders and back down.

It leaves your skin full of goosebumps and you shiver. He misinterprets it and instead of stopping his stroking, he uses his flat hand to create friction instead.

“It’s not a dog, it’s a puppy. They’re cute and they’re kinda, I don’t know, like...clueless?” You laugh because that’s not the word you were looking for but it’s what comes out.

“Uh, excuse me, I have plenty of clues,” Thor argues, but he doesn’t seem offended.

“That’s not the right word,” you laugh again. “I don’t know how to describe it. I just want to squeeze you and cuddle you because you’re like this big blonde golden retriever only sexier.”

Thor makes his thinking face as he tries to pull up the picture of the dog breed you just compared him to, and he nods slowly.

“I think I can live with that,” Thor smiles down at you then leans to meet your lips.

You kiss him eagerly, your bodies both humming with anticipation even though you spent the last two days--practically--in bed.

Both of you know that there’s a time when this lust might not necessarily fade but dull a bit? Then again, it is Thor and he’s ravenous for you almost all the time.

You chuckle against his lips and he pulls back to look at you.

“What has you laughing so adorably?”

You let go of the sheet and before it can fall, Thor replaces your hands with his own to hold it up around you both. With free hands you’re able to trace the length of his arms, tracing the large curves. His skin is so damn soft.

You’re still not sure if that’s a Thor thing or an Asgardian God thing? What you know is that you love it and your fingers eat it up every time you touch him.

Whatever laugh or trace of humor you had falls away as you start to really look within yourself and examine why you’re so happy.

You shove your arms underneath his and wrap your arms around him, small whisper slaps of his skin as your hands are splayed out along his wide back. You press your ear against his chest. The thud of his heart is strong and slightly speedy, probably in response to your sudden shift in mood.

The swell between both of you, the little life kicking in response to your mood pulls both your attention for a few seconds before you find your voice.

“I missed you, Thor. More than I thought I would. Way more than I ever knew I could.”

The somber tone of your voice has him giving you a nice gentle squeeze. He likes having you right there right up against him just as much as you like being there.

“Well, you were very angry with me,” Thor reminds you. “I didn’t know your face could make those expressions. That day at your home?”

You hug him tighter, staring out at the small bloom of sunrise in the distance. It’s very slightly starting to glisten on the still ocean line.

“I was angry. But it was more than that.”

“I know,” Thor kisses the top of your head. “I hurt you. What I said, I-I didn’t mean it, cherub. I promise you. It was a temporary insanity. The moment you came into that room after I said what I did, I knew that I could never go through with it. And if you’d told me that we were expecting a child-”

“I couldn’t,” you sigh, leaning back to look up at him. “In my head, if I told you then after what you'd said that I was pregnant and you chose to stay with me, I would live the rest of my life wondering whether you chose me because you really loved me or because I was finally going to give New Asgard their heir.”

Thor’s face crumbles a little, brow scrunched, mouth pulled down at the corners as he shakes his head.

“I will always choose you. Not because you are the mother of my children, but because you are the love of my life. The one I did not expect. The one that I can never chance to lose again. I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt me.”

Staring into his eye, the intensity of his gaze, you know that he means what he says. He loves you.

Even though you can’t admit it to him because your reconciliation needs all of the positivity that you can both muster, in your heart, you can’t help but wonder if you can truly trust him.

~~~~~~~~~~

The days go by like routine after the Asgardians find that they have to go back to their jobs and lives.

As much as they all love a good party, Thor and Loki included if the last two days are any indication, they know they can't keep going and must get back to life as usual.

Thor at first makes an attempt to stay with you. The last few months of being without each other makes it difficult to be apart and for Thor especially, with the baby.

He hates leaving you. He wants to be there for every kick and every shift.

His largest grievance is that he can't listen to your laugh when the baby kicks and it feels weird. This you only find out because Loki, in his annoyance with the constant trips Thor makes him do to check on you when he's in his meetings.

Although you believe Loki, you take all of these little indicators of Thor’s love with ease but with the knowledge that it might very well be fleeting.

You try not to think about it and instead just allow yourself to enjoy the fact that Thor does indeed love you and you love him too. Even if it may not be forever. Even if it can change. Even if the future is now a little less certain.

Your meeting with the ambassadors approaches quickly. It takes a month to set it up. Longer than you'd thought and it doesn't take long to understand why.

"This is the third time they've pushed the meeting back," you gripe, moving over to Loki’s computer to look over his shoulder at the surprisingly very short email.

Please inform Her Majesty, the Queen of Asgard, that we are unable to meet with her as previously scheduled this week and will be in contact as to the next available day.

Should any true trouble arise, please tell Thor that we are more than happy to meet with him.

Sincerely,

Earth AMB Mark Coates

You're seething. You've never been this angry. Never this absolutely heated. Not even with Thor and what happened with Jane can compare to the absolute rage flowing through your veins.

"They don't seem to take you seriously," Loki realizes. "Because you're a woman?"

"Partially, probably," you growl as you move back around his desk to sit in the padded armchair by the window where you'd been watching Thor visit with the Valkyrie.

He's not there anymore though and you can see Hilde and her girls relaxing a little. Adjusting their armor, laughing, sitting and talking. Now that their inspection is over they can breathe.

Why they get so nervous you don't understand. Thor’s such a fanboy. He gushes about them constantly.

"What other reason might there be?" Loki asks, rising and moving around his desk to lean against it casually, hands shoved into the inky black pockets of his slacks.

His jade vest is unbuttoned and the sleeves of his dark gray button-up folded up to his elbow.

Summer is almost here and it's getting hotter.

You don't answer right away. Hands slowly stroking your belly, trying to calm down for the baby's sake. Feeling that upset can't be good for him.

You take a long deep inhale and with a heavy sigh release the stress.

"My Queen?" Loki urges, and you smile.

Realizing he's calling you by your title to reaffirm your place among them to make you feel better, you turn your smile on him.

"You've always been my biggest supporter. You and David," your smile falters. "I miss him."

"Is he still in Baghdad?"

"Yeah. He’s in deep so, no contact. I hope he's okay."

"You know, you do have a part time Avenger as a husband and the best magician for a brother-in-law. One word and we'd be happy to assist with your lawyer's extraction."

"Which is why I don't ask. If he needs help, David will let us know. He has his panic button."

The gift had been given to you by Tony who had made it for you to press when you and Thor had been estranged. An easy way to call for Thor if something should happen.

Your brother-in-law nods.

"I suppose it would be a little like nepotism. Fine. What should I do about the misogynistic email?" Loki wonders.

"He's not exactly a misogynist. Not completely anyway. The ambassador blowing me off has more to do with me specifically than it does with me being a woman."

This seems to set Loki off more than if the ambassador was doing this because you're a woman.

"What right does he have to snub the Queen of Asgard? Doesn't he know what that might do to relations between Earth and our people?"

You shake your head, smiling because his anger makes you feel better.

"No, he doesn't. Because to the world my marriage to Thor is show. It's a necessary political move. They don't care whether Thor and I love each other and Jane and Thor’s relationship was so publicized that it’s hard for them to accept that Thor might actually love me.

"Thor went to extreme lengths to protect Jane in the past. Public displays of affection like that aren't forgotten easily.

"To the ambassadors and probably most of the world, offending me doesn't mean an offense against Thor. To them, I'm a queen in name only. No real power here."

Loki huffs through his nose, standing straight with his hands at his waist before he turns to walk back behind his desk.

He stops for a moment, thinking hard you guess, then whips around and stomps towards you before shoving his finger towards the windows.

"I know it has been a while for me, but I can very easily open another tear in space over New York. Or wherever you need me to. I might need a bit of time to locate the power and forces to do it but I will show the people.of Earth what happens when they underestimate the love of the Asgardian people for their queen."

Leaning back in your chair, you keep your arms around your bump as you watch Loki make his threat.

"That's a bit much for a dude who just thinks that my political marriage is just that, isn't it?"

You keep your face clear of amusement, because it really is very sweet of him to be so upset for you. But you can't help the small smile that stretches your lips.

He deflates, moving to other armchair across from yours and sits but leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

"It's shameless disrespect, Y/N. We cannot let them get away with it. You are Asgardian now. A slight against you is a slight against this Kingdom."

"I know, Loki. But-"

Behind Loki his office door opens. It faintly creeks and through it pokes Thor’s searching gaze.

He looks confused as he scans the room until he spots the two of you and with a little skip in his step and a wide unfettered smile, he shuts the door and moves towards you.

"Hi," you smile at him widely in reaction to the loveable look on his face.

"Hello," Thor replies, his voice low and quiet as he leans down towards you.

"You finished early today," you observe, voice just as quiet.

"You know I hate being apart," Thor whispers and presses his lips to yours.

His kiss is so soft and slow.

He pulls away too quickly and as your heart stutters, you reach up to hook your hands into the sides of his chest plate and pull him back down for another kiss.

He'd worn his full uniform today for an early meeting and the inspection of the Valkyrie. He looks so good but with his hair growing in, now just past his shoulders.

He still has the two small braids you'd worked in on the left side of his head and he looks so good, you might jump him later. If you don't pass out for an afternoon nap.

He pulls away again, this time smiling brightly.

"Will I always get this welcome if I come home early? I might have to shorten my days."

You chuckle as he moves around you and stops by a side table where Loki keeps a few weapons on display on a stand. He starts to remove his harder pieces of armor and places them aside.

"What has you looking so stern, brother?" Thor asks, keeping his back to you both as he moves onto the leather pieces that keep his chain mail from shifting.

Loki sits back, sighing heavily as he considers how much to tell Thor.

"Something I should worry about? Come. Tell me and lessen your burden."

"He's upset for me. That's all."

You hear the clink of Thor's mail as it falls on the table then he's moving around your right to squat by your chair so that he's below your eye level.

"Upset for you? Why?" His look of concern is upsetting and pleasing at the same time.

You purse your lips and look at Loki.

"It might be easier if I showed you," he says then rises and moves to his desk to get his tablet.

Thor reaches out to place his hand on your belly and you place yours over his.

He smiles at you then leans down to kiss your tummy while you run your fingers through his hair and try to ignore the utterly breathtaking and heartaching butterflies that his sweet love on your baby gives you.

"I missed you," he whispers to you.

Again, your heart stutters. He’s so easy with his words. These declarations feel so good but that little voice in the back of your head also makes your heart ache.

You just smile at him. Unable to speak when you feel like you're glowing and grieving at the same time.

"Here," Loki holds out the tablet and Thor stands then takes it.

He moves to the loveseat across from your and Loki's armchairs and plops down before reading.

You watch him, admiring the out of armor look. His black leather pants are just as hugging as they always are. His top, a dark gray long sleeve made with breathable fabric leaves no room to wonder just how defined his muscles are.

He's Asgardian perfection.

He breathes in deeply then exhales loudly, a passing shadow of rage overcoming his Godly features before he tosses the tablet at Loki lightly who catches it easily.

Thor spreads his legs a little, tapping his heels as he throws his left arm along the back of the small sofa, his other hand resting on his thigh.

"Write the bastard and tell him I'm requesting the meeting then. Then my cherub and I will both be waiting to give him both the information he needs to warn Earth and a piece of my mind."

You look down at your feet, heart pounding and stomach tumbling with nerves.

You don't want to be the reason any rifts come between New Asgard and Earth. The whole purpose of the position you hold is to protect the citizens of this city.

"Thor," you warn, turning to meet his gaze only when you know you can handle it.

"He wants me to contact him, so I will. In fact, send a raven instead. Do the works. Scroll. Seal. And when they arrive, give them a royal welcome with trumpets and a guard."

"Thor…"

"They will not disrespect you and find warm welcomes in my home. You are my wife. My Queen! Even if all they assume is between us is political agreement, they should respect the title you hold. We may not be above them, but we do outrank them an they need to know that you are not to be messed with.

"The fact that I love you only makes my resolve stronger."

"Okay. I get it, puppy. And I'm grateful to both you and Loki for standing up for me. With your tempers, no one would believe you aren't blood related. Sheesh."

You gran hold of the arms of your chair and groan only a little as you push yourself up onto your feet.

"Oof," you reach back and place your hand on your waist.

Thor’s arm immediately extends out towards you. Beckoning you to his side.

It takes you a moment but you get your footing back and move for him. As soon as you're within reach his arm is around you, helping you sit down carefully.

He doesn't let you sit back all the way. He pushes you to your left so that you'll shift and sit angled while he sits up straighter and turns to face you.

With gentle but firm hands he starts to work out the kinks and knots in your back.

Unintentionally you moan with relief. Thor’s eyes are on Loki though.

"What was your idea?"

"I offered to open another tear in space above whatever city she deemed proper. With the allowance of time to find both the power to do so and the army to lead through it."

You can't see Thor expression but when he speaks, his disapproving sounds fake.

"I'm not sure even idly that threat is in good taste. But I understand the sentiment."

"Do you really want me to make all of that fuss to make the ambassador come and meet with you?"

"Yes. I think he needs to be humbled. He may be in a position of power and my Y/N may owe her marriage to their insistence and meddling, but she is Queen and they are speakers for Earth. They would not have jobs had we not come to live here. Their disrespect of our Queen is a slight on our people.

"The moment I took Y/N under my banner is the moment she became Asgardian from the tips of her cute toes to the top of her irresistible head. And with our child on the way, they should know better."

Loki gets to his feet and moves towards the door, "Very well. One royal invitation coming right up."

As he leaves, Thor’s focus is diverted completely to you.

"Does that feel good, love?"

You only moan in return.

Thor chuckles and keeps going for a few minutes longer before you push back towards him and he lets you rest your back against his chest.

You can't be scrunched forward too long before your stomach begins to feel squished.

You look straight up at his face and he smiles.

"Hi," you tell him.

"Hello."

You smile.

"Was the massage satisfactory?"

"Mmmm, it was great. Your hands are godly, puppy."

Thor chuckles at the pun but leans forward to kiss the tip of your nose.

"And you, my sweet cherub, are a Goddess. And I will make sure you are treated as such."

[writingsfromhome]

Water under the Bridge (Josslyn II)

A/N: Okay! Here it is!!!! This was fun and made my heart hurt a little but maybe I’m just being emotional. And can you guys believe it’s been over a year since I posted Josslyn?? Where has the time gone?? I don’t think we’re on the sacred timeline anymore........Anyway thank you anon who suggested this storyline, and hope y’all enjoy! <3

Josslyn (Original)

------

We’re going to have the best weekends evr, Regan texts me even though she’s just in the other room. Schedules were released for our summer semester and Regan and I had managed to get Fridays off. Summer was going to be so fun, and after two years doing college together we were experts at managing our workload to have fun on the weekends--even if that meant sacrificing a few nights’ sleep.

We’ll make summer our bitch, I text back. I hear a chuckle from her room.

Help me pick out a fit? she texts. I want to tell her Adam would love her in whatever, but I head to her room instead and watch her try on a dozen outfits before settling on the second. I tease her about Adam--they were going steady since first year, but she still got so nervous about him sometimes. Adam’s college was a train ride away so he would come down at least one weekend a month.

As for my own love life, there’d been no one steady. I did the whole hooking up and dating scene in first year but I was romantically burnt out by second. Nowadays, I could go home with someone if I chose to, but I also didn’t mind if I didn’t. My active endeavor to find a boyfriend had stopped when I realized I was trying to fill a gap. Instead, I was learning to be happy on my own.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you?” Regan asks. She was taking the train to Adam’s college and staying with him, there was this big start-of-summer party and she’d been trying to convince me for weeks.

“I don’t feel like being a third wheel,” I tell her honestly.

“You don’t have to!” She goes over her one argument again. “Gaelle’s roommate isn’t even back until next week so she has a spare room! She said you should come. Plus,” she ties her hair up, “it’s the weekend before the semester starts so have some fun.”

I make a noise, and she turns to look at me, totally judging me. It makes me laugh. “That’s why my version of fun is to.binge Netflix and-”

“Y/N!” She groans.

“Fine! I’ll go.”

Two words that would change everything.

***

By the time we get to the campus, Regan and I had come up with a dozen things we could potentially do this summer. I’m high on excitement as we meet up with Gaelle, and the three of us head to Adam’s place.

The sun is almost set by the time we leave, most of the sky is dark but a streak of orange stays stubbornly on the horizon. I pause to take pictures before we’re rushing off.

We approach the frat house--if you could call it that. It was half glass with a very modern structure. The greek symbol on the side of the house was the only indicator it wasn’t a millionaire’s summer-house.

“Since when did frat houses get so modern?” I ask. “This is...nice.”

“Wait ‘til you see inside,” Adam says. And he was right, even the drinks were fancier with their own guy behind the bar...although he was taking the occasional shot and getting progressively drunk.

We settle in an area close to the music and get swept up into the party atmosphere. Some people were beyond drunk already and I enjoyed the slight buzz of the drink in my hand. The views from inside with floor-to-ceiling windows were amazing.

Pretty soon, Adam and Regan break off. We move towards the centre of the party where the typical party shenanigans were happening. We tip back our drinks and pretty soon I’m straddling the line between tipsy and drunk. I find a cute boy with blonde hair and deep brown eyes and makeout with him until he gets too handsy.

“Ugh!” I give him one last shove and look for Gaelle but I’d lost her too. I search for a bathroom but they’re either occupied or have a lineup. This was a huge ass house, one of the bedrooms had to have one.

I open the first door to shouting.

“It’s called locking the door!” I shout drunkenly as I close it. The next room actually is locked, and the next one isn’t but I wish it was. “Eugh.”

I climb up to the topmost level, three doors--one was locked with the sound of people inside and the second is a bathroom. I was grateful people hadn’t made it up this far.

As I wash up, and touch up the mascara that was crusting under my eyes the door shakes as someone bangs on it from the other side.

“Dip! What the fuck are you doing in there? Everyone’s waiting for you!”

My heart pounds at the sudden noise and the deep voice demanding me to open up. The rush of adrenaline sobers me for a moment as I rush to open the door, “Sorry I didn’t realise anyone was...waiting.”

My words slow down and freeze altogether as I realise the fist banging on the door belonged to...him. Harry. He seems just as surprised as me, straightening up before a smile slowly inches across his face, it was almost sweet bordering on predatory. “Y/N!”

“Hi,” I say awkwardly. There was a lot of history and also not at all. I was also, I decide, too drunk for this. Act sober, this is not the night to run into this fucker.

“You-you’re the last person I was expecting to--excuse me it’s... good to see you! You look--you look as beautiful as ever!”

The events from high school that created this tense history between Harry and I was one of the worst things possible to happen to teenage Y/N. The thing is though, that I’d totally bounced back after I had decided he could fuck himself. Although it was awkward seeing him every day until graduation, it made me tougher. I credit it for making me so casual about relationships now...I stopped expecting so much of the boys I saw.

But leaving high school behind, my world expanded with college, I realised how childish it had all been: I’d had a fling with a player, and he’d played the field...It wasn’t that deep. But seeing him now, It made me aware in a way I wasn’t for a long time. Maybe what they said about distance had some merit. Or maybe I was just buzzed.

“Thanks...I wasn’t expecting you either.”

“You don’t uh, you don’t go here do you? I’ve never seen you around.”

“No,” I look out to the small hall but there’s no one there. The room that was previously locked is slightly ajar carrying male voices. “Adam goes here, I’m...with Regan.”

“Ah, Regan.” He smiles. “You’re still two peas in a pod?”

“Obviously,” The stiffness eases at the mention of my best friend. “So...can I get out of here?”

“Yeah sorry,” he moves aside so I can step into the hall. “Um, we’re playing video games in here room if you...you’re probably not interested.”

I clear my throat, Harry was playing video games when there was a party downstairs? I was curious, that maybe he changed.

“Oh,” he laughs and the dimples I adored make an appearance. “I’ve still got it! My frat just hosts too many parties for me to keep track.”

I guess I said that out loud, I bite my tongue but it really has a life of it’s own. “Did you jussay you still got it?” Oh my god, I was teasing him already. What about Harry made me absolute putty.

“Yeah,” he looks almost bashful. “Uhm, go easy I’m a little nervous here Y/N.”

I don’t know what to say to that, I bite my lip so nothing stupid comes out.

“So you’re just here for the night?” He carries on.

“Staying over with a friend,”

“A fr-” he cuts himself off, pressing his lips together. I realize I’m staring and look away.

“I should go-”

“Wait I-wait uh, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Yea,” I play with the rings on my fingers. “M’good, great. College’s a lot better than high school.”

“It’s not even comparable,” Harry says as he leans his shoulder against the wall. He looks perfectly placed there, and a tipsy voice flashes inappropriate thoughts into my head. “So...any...boyfriends?”

“Um,” that was direct. “No. No, I’m trying out being single...”

“Did something happen?” His expression is still casual but he holds himself rigid.

“No? A girl can’t be single?”

“Sure but someone like you...I’m just surprised.”

“Whatever that means,” I roll my eyes and head past him to go down but he blocks my way.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to offend you...” his voice dies out as I cross my arms. “I also didn’t mean to block you in.”

He steps aside and it feels painful to me but I take the small steps towards the staircase. One part of me--I blame the tipsy stupid part, wants to kiss him just to see if there was still something there, see if anything’s changed. The other was listing all the reasons this was an awful idea, to top it off he was a proven player, has broken my trust once before, and went to a school almost 2 hours from mine.

“Y/N,” Harry’s gruff voice says from behind me. My feet turn without permission and he’s right behind me. “M’sorry. Let me start over.”

I glance at his lips, damn. I can’t meet his eye suddenly. Oh god, I was still pretty tipsy. My mind short-circuits and all I can do is turn back to walk away, down the two sets of stairs, past sweaty bodies and loose limbs. In a great coincidence I bump into Gaelle in what looks like a game room.

“Harry goes here?” I ask--shout at her immediately. Her eyes widen, something passes over her face. “Was no one going to tell me he was going to be here?”

“I’m sorry!” She shouts. “I forgot you two had history!”

“I just wish I was prepared,” I say and she doesn’t hear, I just shake my head when she asks me to repeat. I needed another drink, and Regan. Maybe she could remind me why I stopped caring about him.

As I set off to find her, I’m reminded again how stupid this all was. High school was an ancient dream, we were all different people. I was a different person.

But even though what happened in high school was petty and juvenile, I remember how Harry made me feel. How it felt when we were together--even if it was a joke for him back then, I couldn’t forget the feeling of being seen. Of having arms to fall into, even if I knew they weren’t permanent.

“Regan!” I find her sitting on the dining table while Adam spoke with someone else. Her eyes alight and she waves me over. “I saw him! He...he goes here!”

“Who?” Confusion strings her brows together.

“Harry! From...you know Harry! He was upstairs! I--I didn’t know how to act.”

“Shit Harry! I forgot he went here!”

“You knew?” I throw my hands up.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal! He’s a dick but that was high school?”

“No I-” I sigh. “You’re supposed to tell me he’s still a dick! I saw him and it just got...complicated.”

Regan slides off the table and pulls me into a side hug, we can also hear each other better. “You’re a big kid now, do whatever you want Y/N. Tell him off, kiss his face, take revenge, who the fuck cares? We’re taking the train two hours home after this anyway!”

She had a point. But still...he couldn’t have changed much from the boy who hurt me.

“Adam hangs out with him sometimes,” Regan continues. “Apparently he’s not as bad as high school. He’s...mellowed out.”

“Unreal,” I roll my eyes. Adam was just covering for his friend. We hear a cheer go up behind us and Regan bulges her eyes as two guys help Adam up on his hands to do a keg stand.

Regan swears and heads back to him. I walk away, somehow feeling more and less confused after talking to Regan--do I go back up and see what this leftover emotion was, or ignore it as a drunken need for comfort?

But it’s like the decision is made for me when a hand wraps around my arm as I move from the dining area to the kitchen. I already know it’s him before I turn.

“Can we talk?” he asks. I nod and his grip loosens, slipping down into my palm. “Upstairs?” He motions to the staircase and we climb up the two flights. This time he leads me into one of the locked doors and although I’ve never been here, I’d been in some version of this room before. It’s familiar.

I ignore the ache when he lets go of my hand once we’re inside. I set my drink down on his desk and perch on the window ledge, it’s not big enough to sit on but has enough space for a few of his books and a speaker. His room’s pretty near, but then again Harry was never messy.

“So what do you want-” I start just as he says “Let me get this off my chest.”

“Go ahead,” I cross my arms before uncrossing them, and then crossing them again. With the way he ruffles his hair and crosses to the door and back, he seems just as nervous.

“You can leave at any time. I just want to say I was an asshole, I still kind of am sometimes. And I’m sorry for what I did to you. I know it’s like what--2 years late but all that with...Josslyn and all that...I’m sorry.”

Hearing her name makes me want to grind my teeth but I let the feeling pass. I reach for my drink instead to give me something to do. “It’s all water under the bridge.”

“Really?” Harry regards me suspiciously. “Because the way you were talking to me out there...”

“You’re just you,” I shrug. “Harry Styles, player and sweet-talker. I was just guarding myself against that.”

“Because of what happened between us?”

“No...maybe. I don’t know. But honestly, I’m not upset with you. It feels like an eternity ago. I guess it’s just self-preservation.”

“I guess,” he echoes. “So where does that leave us? If you’re all self-preserved?”

I eye him but he cracks a smile, he was teasing me. “It doesn’t have to leave us anywhere,” I snort. “We’re water under the bridge Harry...”

“My parents split,” he says suddenly and I’m reeling with the direction he’s taken. I open my mouth, and close it when nothing comes out. “Sorry, I know that’s random it’s just I never really talked to anyone about how they were rarely home and when they were they were always arguing a-and we spoke about it a lot. About our families so I just...”

“I’m sorry to hear that, do they still live in town?” I ask, wanting to put my hand on his or show him I cared but they stay glued to my drink.

“My mom moved into the city, it’s closer to her job and since I’m not living at home anymore it doesn’t really matter...”

“You still go home?” I ask.

“I don’t even know where home is?” He looks at me then, and the look in his eyes chips at the wall I’d been trying to build all night. Things had changed, for him.

“Are you--do you have someone to talk to?”

His laugh is dry, “They split last summer, convinced me to talk to some therapist. I don’t know if it really helped I think I’m actually better off. They’re better off and I just feel...free.”

I don’t know what to say to that so I stay quiet. He looks back up at me then, cracks his knuckles, before perching on his bed. “I’m just--sorry I’m not telling you that so you can feel sorry for me-”

“I don’t I just-”

“No it’s okay I just want to tell you that because you knew about that stuff. But I’m trying to tell you I’m not the same guy. Not completely, I’m just trying to tell you things changed and so have I.”

It echoes the same sentiment I had earlier in his conversation, and I remember Regan said he’s mellowed out. Maybe it was true. It still didn’t mean I was going to get together with him anytime soon but my heart hurts for him. I walk up to where he sits, he watches me with a steady gaze.

In the quiet, I hear the party going on outside the window, three floors below us. If I listen really carefully, I can hear sounds coming from the video game being played next door. In the stillness, I reach for Harry’s hand and he obliges, grasping mine.

“I wish I could...help you with the hurt. Not knowing where to call home is pretty shitty.”

“Don’t worry about me Y/N,” he pastes on his classic smile and I return one for his sake. It was getting heavy in here. “I’m just happy I got to talk to you. And I just found out you don’t hate me so...” he holds our intertwined hands and shakes it. “woo hoo!” I laugh as we let go.

“I guess I should go back to the party.”

“Yeah, okay. I won’t keep you.”

“Okay,” I’m a little stung he doesn’t suggest I stay a little longer. Maybe it was all in my head, maybe his intentions really were to make amends and that’s it. I pick my drink up from his windowsill and move to the door. I glance back before I go, he’s laying on his bed deep in thought, gazing up at the ceiling. I close the door behind me.

***

I wake the next morning, surprisingly well. I can’t say the same for Gaelle who’d passed me her keys at some point and told me she’d be home late. I spent the rest of the party trailing Regan until I decided I should just go crash. Harry hadn’t come out to find me, and I tried to hide the sour feeling, excusing myself early.

“Fuck me,” Gaelle croaks from her bed when I step into her open doorway.

“How about coffee, and pancakes?” I ask, returning the favor of being able to sleep here.

“I’ll take it,” she flops back into bed. I busy myself with measuring coffee and water, my thoughts occupied with everything Harry and I had been through since we last saw each other. I demonized him for so long, humanizing him is harder to swallow.

What he’d done to me was shitty, there was no denying. But had he really changed? And most importantly, why did I care so much? It’s not like he was the one.

My phone rings: Regan. She’s talking so fast I hardly hear her, only really understand that it was a party ritual to gather in the student centre the morning after a big party. Endless coffee and free food seemed to be the general consensus for a party cure.

“I don’t know if I can make it there,” Gaelle says when I tell her. “I was hoping for pancakes at home.”

“I already put the coffee on but I’m hauling your ass there if you’re not up in 5. Our train leaves after noon anyway and it’s closer to the college.”

Slowly but surely Gaelle emerges and we make our way, spotting Regan easily as the bright spot in a sea of college students in PJs and last night’s clothing. She’s the only one fully dressed, with a full face of makeup on.

“I didn’t drink that much,” she shrugs when we settle around her and Adam’s friends. “Unlike some people.” She looks pointedly at Adam who’s slumped where he sits. I remember the kegger and laugh.

Life soon flows back into the group around us as does the coffee and breakfast foods. I’m relaxed in the environment until I look down the tables to where Harry stands, looking back at me. He raises a hand and I do the same until an extremely tall angel--she was literally wearing a halo, probably from last night-walks up to him and wraps her hands around his waist. She says something to him and he tears his gaze away.

I look down at my cup immediately, my cheeks burning with humiliation. I’d been thinking about him all this time, thinking about how it might feel if I kissed him and of course he had a girlfriend. She never came up, but he never said he didn’t either. He didn’t make any moves on me yesterday, if I looked at it he only made an attempt to talk. Sure he was flirty but that was just Harry and I...I was a fool. I was such a fool. Things may have changed for him but he hadn’t. He was still the same Harry who chose Josslyn over me. He would always have a girlfriend, I was just the girl from his past who he could trust. I couldn’t say the same about him.

“What’s wrong,” my best friend nudges me. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I don’t know,” I look into her concerned eyes. “I’m just going to--I’ll be right back.”

I head out and find the closest washroom. The tears are instant and I let myself cry--out of frustration, humiliation, or some twisted sense of betrayal...it was all the same for me. I check the time, I just had to hold myself together and avoid Harry for another 2 hours before we were back on the train home. I would tell Regan everything then.

*** Three weeks later ***

“If Adam’s over later...” Regan trails off. She’s sprawled on my bed while I sit in my desk chair trying to read one more chapter before I close the books for the week.

“I have my earplugs ready and a second place to stay,” I roll my eyes. “I already told Kiara I might crash on her couch.”

“I owe you,” she jumps back up.

“You owe me like, 7 and a half.”

“7 and a half?”

I’m about to answer but a knock on our door has her racing out. I try to ignore the voices, I just had two more pages I had to get through--the joy of summer classes.

“Y/N?: Regan’s voice is a whisper. “We’re going now but...you have a guest. If you want me to kick his ass I totally can though.”

Standing behind her is Harry. I focus on him, yes it really was him. Why was he here?

“Harry?” I sound confused because I am. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans, and he’d traveled 2 hours just to get here.

“He wouldn’t leave me alone,” Adam says louder as they leave the room. “I’m sorry Y/N...”

“What is this?” I ask. My feelings are at war with each other, I was still feeling slighted by the last time we saw each other but seeing his face was also an exciting surprise.

“I wanted to see you,” Harry says nervously. He still stays at my bedroom door.

“You can come in...” I stand up and realize I was wearing an oversize t-shirt and the scruffiest PJ shorts I owned. “Phones have cameras now, you didn’t have to come all this way.”

He shrugs, taking one step in. “I liked seeing you in person last time. But I feel like we left it wrong.”

He knows I saw him, what conclusions I must have come to. It wouldn’t be that hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We talked it out.”

He comes to life, “Don’t play dumb Y/N I know you saw me with...I know what you thought and-”

“Did you really come all this way to explain that you had a girlfriend? Like, three weeks later?”

“No that’s the thing-”

“Because that’s kind of dumb. And unnecessary-”

“No listen!” He says a bit louder so I do. “The thing is she wasn’t my girlfriend...we’d hung out a few times but she saw me at the caf and got clingy. We’re not an item honestly, I can’t remember the last time I had a girlfriend-.”

“So why are you here?” My voice is higher than usual. I was confused, and upset, and I wanted him to leave. This was starting to sound like Josslyn part 2.

“You know why I’m here. Y/N I’ve been nothing but a dick to you and I know I don’t deserve you but I really like you. I want to clear the air, and ask you if you can see something here I...”

He trails off when he notices the tears trailing down my cheek. It’s just too much for me, as I finally face the emotions from that weekend. I’d shoved them aside after Regan had gotten onto the train worried her and Adam were headed towards a breakup. I’d put aside what happened and never thought about it. But my heart broke a little that morning. 

I knew what I knew: maybe Harry and I weren’t good for each other but we were good with each other. In an attempt not to get hurt I’ve been distancing myself from romantic connections--I found more of myself in doing this, but a part of me was missing without exploring it.

Harry moved closer until we’re nearly touching. I wipe my tears with my shoulder and we stand still on the hardwood floors of my room. An eternity passes before he reaches out to wipe the tear caught in my lashes. I close my eyes to his touch, scared of how much I wanted it.

“Y/N,” my name is a breath on his lips and it makes my heart stutter. My eyes open in slow motion, seeing him so vulnerable right in front of me, and suddenly things speed up and we’re reaching for each other; two waves crashing until they become one.

***

I don’t know how much time had passed in minutes, Adam and Regan are still out but Harry and I had fallen together and crashed apart so many times that I’m dizzy with it.

“You’re wonderful,” he says as we face each other, our noses just nearly touching. He trails a finger down my cheek. “Just...incredible.”

I feel the flush spread through me, “Great vocab Styles. We’re really using the big words.”

“Words are sort of hard right now,” he grins. “My brain’s all mush.”

I laugh, “Not much different to its usual state!”

“I knew you were going to say that!” he tries to reach for me but I skip off the bed with a laugh. “Come back.”

“I have to pee,” I slip on pants and can’t stop grinning the whole time I’m away. When I come back in, the blissful smile on his face tells me everything I need to know. I climb over him but he stops me in place, a knee on either side of his hips.

“I’m happiest when I’m with you Y/N,” he says, his voice roughened with emotion. “I think I always was. Younger Harry liked to self-sabotage.”

I bend down and my hair slips around us. The way he looks at me makes my insides mush. And even though I have proof of why I shouldn’t trust him, he’s here. In my bed. Miles away from where he would be if he hadn’t traveled all this way to see me. And that means something.

“I’m glad you’ve done some growing,” I say to him quietly.

“I had to,” he says softly. “I couldn’t have you like I do now if I hadn’t.”

“I guess we’ve both grown,” I brush a curl from his forehead.

“I know, old Y/N would have punched me if I showed up unexpectedly.”

“Rightly so,” I grin. He smiles back, brushing my hair behind my ear, back over my shoulder. He props himself on his elbow to kiss the shoulder he’d bared. It’s simple, and sweet, but it’s enough to unravel me all over again. And he knows it.

“When does Regan get home?”

“We might have another half hour,” I grin.

“Let’s not waste it,” he mumbles into my skin.

I agree.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Practice Makes Perfect.

Word Count: 3.2k.

Commissioned by the lovely @furudolove.

Pairing: Yandere!OC/Reader.

TW: Death, Light Gore, Blood, Graphic Injury, Mentions of Kidnapping, Implied Stalking, Slight Sociopathy/Apathy, Implied Anxiety, Obsessive mindsets.

Her smile was familiar.

Or, familiar might’ve been the wrong word for it. Cozy in the way a hotel room was, stiff and sterile, but repetitive and recognizable, too. Reassuring like a disinterested family, soothing like the buzz of a broken streetlamp, relaxing like being so utterly, completely, absolutely lost, there was nothing you could do to possibly make things worse than they already are. It wasn’t off-putting, but it wasn’t welcoming, either. She didn’t feel intimidating, and yet, you still wanted to keep your distance, like a mouse might from a docile housecat. To stay bundled up in your little corner off the coffee shop, your coat pulled over your chest and…

And then she glanced up, and something in your brain short-circuited.

You really should’ve stopped staring earlier.

Instantly, your eyes shot back to the wooden tabletop in front of you, to the mug you’d almost forgotten, steam still rising off the top. She was a barista, after all, she was working, and the last thing she needed was some creep staring her down for the better half of the last thirty minutes, if only because of that uncanny, unidentifiable resemblance to something you couldn’t name. You weren’t a regular, but she felt new, still awkward with the machines and robotic with costumers, but you couldn’t say you were any better. You’d hardly said a word to her, aside from your order, and you didn’t plan to, not if you could help it. You’d never been good at that kind of thing, and you had a feeling your luck wouldn’t improve with someone so…

Someone like her.

Not that you’d been all that lucky with much of anything, lately. Hell, you were only here because you’d missed your train, and the next wouldn’t arrive for another hour, at least. There were more pressing things you could focus on, like the early shift you had tomorrow, how late you were going to get home, the busted lock on the door of your apartment, but it was easier to hate the rigid schedule that hadn’t bent to your will, the sidewalk that’d been just a little too crowded let you squeeze your way through peacefully, the light snowfall that meant you couldn’t wait at the station, regardless of how badly you wanted to bunker down on an uncomfortable, freezing bench and stubbornly glare at the tracks until you found a way to turn-back time and avoid such a trivial problem entirely. It was easier to focus on the barista, how her black hair fell in front of her face as she worked, how your fingers twitched, moving reflexively to push it back. It was an invasive kind of intimacy, the type that was as unearned as it was unwanted. Irrational and irritating, despite your attempts to brush it off.

Downing the rest of your drink, you forced yourself to stand. The station would be better, and fresh air would help to clear your mind, to stop you from paying attention to things that didn’t need attention. You tried to start towards the door, but you hardly made it a full step before something caught the back of your collar, tugging you back into place. There was a brief pause, a second that stretched out just a little too long, but hesitantly, you managed to turn around, only to be met by the smiling face you’d been simultaneously inspecting and avoiding. Only to be met by her, the barista, the girl you’d been all-but leering at, since you walked in.

Reflexively, you moved to apologize, but she was already talking, already forcing another paper cup into your unoccupied hand. “On the house,” She explained, in place of a proper greeting. You didn’t mind. You couldn’t really say you expected one, not from her. “It’s cold out there, and you’re starting to look like you could use it.”

There was a playful lull to her voice, a hint of something that balanced on the line between an insult and a genuine show of sympathy. You could only bow your head, your eyes suddenly glued to the floor. “I could, honestly,” You managed, the words coming out meeker than you would’ve liked. If she noticed, it didn’t seem to dampen her mood, her grin only growing broader as you went on. “Thank you…”

“Anya,” She finished, her smile never faltering.

“Call me Anya.”

~

You recognized her eyes, too.

Dark, just teetering on the shade where brown begins to blend with back. You might’ve said she looked distracted, but that wouldn’t be right – if anything, she seemed a little too concentrated. You were better about your staring, this time, but it would’ve been impossible not to look over you shoulder occasionally, not to throw a glance in her direction as you ducked behind a rack of magazines. It was a pathetic effort, really, an unnecessary one. It was a corner store, not her bedroom. You were shopping, not setting up hidden cameras. You’d gotten here before her, and you would’ve left if she hadn’t come in, if you could just put a strange resemblance aside and manage to act like a normal, functional human being. That’s what you should do, really. It’s what anyone else would do, whether or not there was the smallest, tiniest, most insignificant chance she’d see you and think, quietly and to herself, that you were a creep.

But, you weren’t someone else. And you really, really didn’t want her to think you were a creep.

So, hiding behind the magazine rack it was.

Currently, you were staring down a display cooler, trying to blend in with the background or melt into the fluorescent lights. You wanted to make yourself less noticeable, to shrink into your jacket and disappear, but that wasn’t an option – you were sure you already would’ve abused the privilege, if you had it. You just had to wait her out. You just had to—

“Another rough day?”

You just had to die. That was it, you just had to die.

At least she didn’t seem uncomfortable, inviting herself into your personal space before you could make the mistake of invading hers, choosing to stand just a little too close, her shoulder nearly touching yours. “Is it that obvious?” You muttered, your voice still low, like you were still trying to hide. A fox, still trying to walk on the leg it’d already chewed off. “I wasn’t really planning on running into anyone, this late.”

You said it like the two of you were friends, like it even made sense that she’d taken time out of her night to talk to you. Instantly, you regretted opening your mouth at all, but Anya only laughed. “I’d offer you another coffee, if I could,” She quipped, nudging you gently, her tone still unbothered, as if she made a hobby of confronting near-strangers. She might’ve, for all you knew. She felt like the kind of person who did. “A little company can’t hurt, though. I’d like to think I’ve gotten good at this kind of thing.” There was a pause, and enviously, you scanned over a dented energy drink. “Lots of training, y’know? People say I have a common face, makes it easier for people to talk to me.”

You allowed yourself a small sigh, a wave of relief washing over you. She must’ve been used to it, the strange stares and that distorted attraction, but you still tried to keep your eyes in front of you, on the sleeve of her silver coat as she reached up, toying with the cooler’s handle. “I don’t really have a lot to say,” You conceded, reluctantly. “It’s just been a tough week. My karma’s been off or something – nothing just seems to go right. Not that anything’s gone that wrong, either.” It was one of the few advantages of living such a small life. If you had the time to worry about whether or not the same girl would recognize you twice, you couldn’t have had much to worry about in the first place. “I’m just… a little stuck, I guess. It’s like I’m treading water, but I still know I’m going to drown, eventually.”

You caught her reflection in the clouded glass, an expression similar to guilt passing across her features and disappearing just a quickly, fading into a small, understanding smile, so unabashedly sympathetic, it almost felt practiced. “Like the universe has a bounty on your head.”

You let out a breath of a chuckle. “I wouldn’t take it that far.”

“Things can always get worse.” It was a declaration, shameless and unabashedly pessimistic, the kind that forced the tension in your shoulders to dissolve and your nerves to settle in the pit of your stomach, if only out of respect for her confidence alone. “But, no one should have to die alone. If you want to walk me home, we could try to stave it off for another twenty minutes together.”

If it were anyone else, any other stranger, you probably wouldn’t have agreed. You hadn’t been making excuses – it was late, closer to sunrise than sunset, and if your luck was going to get any worse, wondering around the city probably wasn’t the best idea. But, there was something about the way she asked, like she already knew you’d say yes, like she already trusted you enough to know you would. You didn’t want to disappoint her. You didn’t want to break whatever golden, idealistic expectations she’d managed to form, in the handful of days since you’d met.

“It’s not like I have anything better to do,” You admitted, letting her hook her arm around yours, pulling you closer to her side as you fought to keep your focus on the ground, willing the heat rushing to your cheeks to cool. “If it’ll keep me alive, I mean.”

There was only a smile in response, bright enough to let you overlook that, despite already moving to drag you to the cashier, she didn’t actually have anything to buy.

“I’ll do my best, this time.”

~

You could’ve sworn you’d seen her apartment before, despite knowing you’d never taken a step past the threshold.

Admittedly, you probably should’ve made more of an effort to change that before springing at the first opportunity to move in. Despite her confidence, Anya liked her privacy, and she always seemed to prefer your place over hers, taking every excuse you offered to spend the night or hand out or, on one special occasion, try and fail to surprise you with a romantic dinner. It almost felt unreal, trying to navigate the strange, empty halls, a cardboard box in your arms and your eyes burning, a side-effect of the white walls and the hanging fluorescent lights, complicated metal fixtures she seemed a little too fond of. You’d have to ask her about that, later on. You doubted your vision would last, if the entire apartment was like this.

“Already lost, babe?”

Your heart raced at the sound of Anya’s voice, but not like it used to, not out of pure, nervous tension. This was a nice sensation, a more pleasant sort of unease, leaving your cheeks flushed and your tongue failing as Anya draped herself over your shoulders, her own crate already thrown into whichever black room she decided it belonged in. She’d wanted to help, but with the Spring heat and how much time the two of you had spent cleaning out your last place, neither of you seemed capable of getting much done. “Can you blame me?” You asked, leaning back and melting into her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you lured my back to your empty, bleached out murder den.” There was a pause, a slight hesitation on your part. “Which is not what happened, right?”

“Oh, no, not until I see how unbearable you are to live with, at least.” You huffed, attempting to shrug her off, but Anya only laughed, her arms dropping to your waist and her cheek coming to rest against your back. “I mean, I should be the scared one, if anything. After what happened to your apartment—”

“It was just bad luck,” You interjected, already embarrassed. “This kind of thing happens all the time.”

“An entire building burning down is not ‘bad luck’.” She sounded annoyed, but her faux exasperation was half-hearted, at best, a sentiment only backed up by her breathy sigh, all poorly veiled relief and numbed exhaustion. “It’s just a miracle you weren’t home. When you called me, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d do if…”

She trailed off, but you knew what she meant. You were still in a state of shock, honestly, still stuck in the same distant headspace you’d been in when you first saw the smoke rising into the air and the caution tape surrounding your neighborhood and the crowds, and you couldn’t imagine it was any less gruesome for her. “It’s not all bad,” You offered, reaching back, running your fingers through her hair idly. “If you hadn’t wanted to go on a date that day, I might’ve actually been—”

You didn’t get a chance to finish. Above you, something creaked, the sound of metal scraping against metal as a fuse fizzled and popped, an electrical static that fell silent just a moment too soon. You barely got a chance to consider moving before you were thrown on the ground, Anya on top of you and a mangled pile of glass and wires scattered across the floor behind her, the invasive light of the hall suddenly dulled into something grey, something absent. It took you a moment to process it all – the cracked floor tiles, the ache forming in the spot where your chest hit the ground, but Anya was quick to recover, a stifled laugh slipping past her lips before she could swallow it back. You might’ve been tempted to do the same, if your tongue hadn’t suddenly felt so heavy.

You might’ve been able to take it as lightly as she did, if the sound hadn’t been so familiar in such an awful, terrifying way.

It was difficult to speak, but you managed, the words coming out faltered and breathless. “I can’t… A-Are you alright?”

“You’re alright,” She mumbled, more to herself than for you.

“I’m fine, as long as you’re alright.”

~

Somehow, you felt like you’d heard her voice before.

Her smile was familiar, as were her eyes and the unnerving emptiness of her apartment, but you felt like you’d heard her voice before, like you’d listened to her, like you’d lied with your head in her lap and you’d heard her, not just something similar, not just an imitation you could convince yourself wasn’t the real thing. It was personal. It was real. It was Anya, even if you knew it couldn’t be. Even if you knew it wasn’t supposed to be.

Even if it had to be, and you were beginning to realize it could never have been anything else.

Anya was trying to be gentle, today. You couldn’t blame her, you’d be gentle if you found her like this, at the bottom of a staircase in a pool of her own blood, bones shattered and ribs cracked and body so twisted, you weren’t sure how she’d even recognized you. Still, there was an exhausted lilt in her voice as she crouched by your side – or, what she must’ve thought was your side, at least. “I knew this would happen.” There was a pause, a spark of agony that flittered across your scalp as she reached down, combing her fingers through your hair lazily. “Took a week longer than last time. Getting you back to my apartment is usually a turning point, but… different rules for different run-throughs, I guess.

“This isn’t the worst thing I’ve seen,” She went on, not bothering to wait for a response she knew wouldn’t come. “Car accidents are usually bloodier. You’ve gotten gutted a couple times, usually a day or two after we’re supposed to meet, and when you get caught in that fire…” She trailed off, and you tried to take a deep breath, something in your lungs ripping and spilling out, as a result. “I had to pull you out of a train crash, once. A fucking train crash. You hated trains, a few cycles ago.”

Anya let out a huff, something between a sigh and a groan, but if she had more to say, she didn’t bother offering more than a parting kiss to your bruised forehead, forcing out a whimper so cracked and so pitiful, you could hardly bring yourself to acknowledge as human. “I’ll see you next time, sweetheart.”

A blocked heel pressed against the crack in the back of your skull, and Anya’s weight shifted with a small, practiced grace.

It hurt, for a moment.

But then, it didn’t.

~

You looked a little different at the start of every cycle.

Anya didn’t mind. You were still you – beautiful, lovable, endearing you, regardless of the color of your jacket or what drink you chose, the day the two of you were predestined to meet. It didn’t matter if you were a little more jittery than you were last time, a little less willing to meet her eyes as she took your order, she could look past that. Whatever gap existed between the two, she could bridge it. Whatever hesitancy dozens of bloody, gory deaths might’ve instilled in you, she could help you overcome it, she could choke it out of you until only admiration was left, the same love she felt for you.

Of course, her goal was your survival, to protect you and get close to you and make sure you shake off whatever awful curse you seem to be under, but Anya found that a relationship was the best way to do that. She’d tried keeping her distance, manipulating individual factors rather than keeping you out of harm’s way directly, but that’d been about as effective as the time she’d locked you in her bedroom and attempted to take a more forceful approach to keeping you safe. She needed to keep a firm hand, not a strangle-hold. She needed to be outgoing, not intrusive.

Part of her was a little worried, albeit not nearly worried enough. She’d been the shy one, the first time the two of you met, stuttering and plain and completely unimportant, and you’d been confident, care-free, a far-cry from the paranoid, anxious shell you’d taken to hiding in, lately. She still loved you, obviously, she doubted she could ever stop loving you, but you were different. She was different, too. Both of you were.

But, Anya couldn’t seem to bring herself to care.

She smiled as she finished writing, reading over the number written onto your cheap, disposable paper cup, her name underneath it, punctuated by a row of hearts, for good measure. You wouldn’t call, she already knew, but Anya wasn’t feeling as patient as she usually was, she didn’t want to wait as long to skip to the fun part of her little routine. It was the least she could do to experiment. If she got lucky, you’d be desperate enough to ask for her help, after a little prodding. And, if she wasn’t, it’d be fine. She was sure of that. It’d always be fine.

She knew what to do if she made a bad impression, if she said the wrong thing, if she decided she couldn’t trust you with your own safety, anymore. You’d already abandoned her over and over again, died and left Anya to smooth over the damage…

She was sure you wouldn’t mind if she chose to be a little selfish, this time around.

[miracleonice87]

Full of Surprises

a Matthew Tkachuk one-shot

a/n: I rewatched the Tkachuk family Spittin Chiclets interview this morning from the All-Star game in St. Louis and it got me in my Matty feelings. Here’s a proposal story full of fun surprises. Enjoy!

warnings: just swearing — otherwise, total and complete fluff

_____

“Do they know?” I whispered, one arm entwined with one of Matthew’s as both of us stared at the glimmering ring on my left hand.

“Does who know?” Matthew asked in a matching whisper, ducking his head in front of my face. I knew just what he was after — I placed a kiss on the top part of his ear, his favorite, and allowed my tongue to dart out just slightly, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Does your family know?” I clarified as he sat up straight, smirking at me.

We were flying first class, headed to the Tkachuks’ summer home in Cape Cod. I knew that his parents and both of his siblings would be there, but had no concept of how many of them, if any, knew of the engagement that had begun only about eight hours beforehand, on the beach in Bimini.

What I had seen simply as a much-needed getaway from Matthew’s rigid summer workout schedule and from my own bustling days as a graphic designer had quickly turned into the official start of a lifetime together, complete with a Bahamian backdrop.

Matthew shook his head. “No, they have no idea,” he informed me as he pressed a kiss to my temple. I nuzzled my head against his bicep and let my eyes flutter closed, partially in bliss and partially because Matthew and I had gotten maybe two hours of sleep total since the moment he proposed, what with all the celebrating the two of us had done in our hotel room.

I was suddenly so anxious to share our news with our loved ones, starting with Matthew’s family. I smiled at the thought of rehashing the story for any and all who wanted to hear it.

_____

“Matty...” I whispered, tears swiftly filling my eyes and an enormous lump sneaking into my throat.

Matthew had suggested a walk on the beach following our final dinner at the Bimini resort, where we had we spent the evening holding hands over a candlelit table on a private balcony of one of the resort’s fabulous restaurants. After we finished our seafood dinner entrees, he had fed me my half of a delectable piece of chocolate cake as we laughed together behind glasses of red wine.

Little did I know that the sweetest treat was about to come.

Here he was, kneeling in the sand before me, holding a black velvet box, propped open to display the most gorgeous oval-cut diamond ring I’d ever laid eyes on.

“Matty,” I repeated, this time aloud, as I found my voice again. I took a cautious step toward him and wrapped my hands around his outstretched wrist.

“Taylor... baby?” Matthew prompted, his voice strained, shaky. I suddenly realized that the man in front of me had just poured out his soul to me — promising forever, promising a home together, promising a shared legacy of love, joy, and children. And I had yet to give him the answer he was seeking, or any answer at all. His question hung in the ocean air — time stood still.

“Yes! Oh, yes, Matty, yes! Of course!” I choked out, both of us suddenly overcome with nervous and relieved giggles. He sprung to his feet to kiss me, taking my face in his hands and giving me a firm, lingering kiss.

“Can I put the ring on you now?” Matthew asked when he finally pried his lips away from mine. It was then that reality hit and the tears started to flow.

“Yes! Yes, baby.” I held out a shaking left hand to him, which he stroked with his thumb and kissed sweetly before pulling the ring from the box and slipping it onto my finger.

“Oh, my god, it fits perfectly! It’s so beautiful, Matthew!” I exclaimed, gasping at how truly remarkable it looked on my hand. I had imagined what this moment would be like for so many years, ever since I was a young girl with blue glasses in Mrs. Kingsley’s first grade class at McKinley Elementary, watching Matthew play tag from across the playground. The gravity of this moment overwhelmed me and exceeded my every long-held expectation.

The tears continued as I held my hand up to Matthew, showing off my newest accessory. He grinned widely.

“Stay right there, baby,” he instructed, fumbling for his phone in his shorts pocket. “I wanna remember this.” He eventually retrieved the device from his pocket and snapped a quick photo of the momentous occasion before putting his phone away once more. He pulled me in close, our chests flush against each other, hearts racing, and we shared dozens more kisses and laughs there on the shore, both realizing that our forever started tonight.

_____

“Are you happy?” Matthew whispered. My eyes opened and I turned my face up toward his.

“Am I happy?” I asked with an incredulous scoff. “Baby, I’m the happiest,” I reassured. “You make me the happiest.” I sat up further in my plane seat and kissed his cheek, and he smiled down lazily at me. “Good. That’s all that matters to me,” he said.

“Are you happy?” I countered.

He waited a beat, looking deeply into my hazel eyes. “The happiest. The luckiest,” he whispered, stroking my chin with his thumb. I kissed the digit as we stared at each other in content, peaceful silence.

_____

An hour later, our flight landed at Boston Logan Airport. Matthew picked up our suitcases from baggage claim, and we were off to join the Tkachuks at the Cape.

I placed my aviators on my nose as I walked through the automatic doors at the airport’s exit, my newly dubbed fiancé just a step behind me.

“Where’s the car?” I asked over my shoulder, knowing that Matt had arranged for his usual car service to pick us up and haul us to the vacation home.

“Oh, uh... right there.” Matthew threw his head casually in the direction of a black stretch limousine further down the pickup lane. My jaw went slack.

“Matty...” I whispered, peering at him over my sunglasses. “You never get a limo!” He threw his head back in an easy laugh. “Well, I never get engaged, either! Until now,” he remarked. He kissed my cheek and patted my ass lightly with the closed hand that also held his duffle.

“Now, come on, my bride-to-be,” he encouraged. “We’ve got places to be.” I shook my head in disbelief as he sauntered toward the limousine.

_____

Just over an hour later, Matthew and I were pulling into the driveway of the beautiful summer home his family had owned for years. My heart flooded with anticipation. I could not wait for us both to go bounding into the house with our big announcement and be surrounded by loved ones.

“Should I wear my ring? Or should I try and hide it somehow?” I asked quickly, turning toward Matthew as I finished applying some lip gloss, the last step of freshening up my appearance after a long flight.

“You can do whatever you wanna do, babe,” he said, leaning forward and insisting on kissing my freshly-glossed pout. He licked his lips immediately and moaned. “Mmm, peppermint,” he said in a low voice. I chuckled and placed a hand against his cheek, knowing we were sure to celebrate the occasion alone many more times throughout tonight, hopefully after some rest.

“I’m just gonna wear it,” I told him. A grin spread wide across my face as I added, “I’m not gonna be able to keep the news in for long anyway.” Matthew smiled brightly. “Me either, T. Me either,” he told me, kissing my left hand as he had countless times already.

I drew a deep breath and smoothed my fingers over the fabric of my white sundress as the car pulled to a stop in the circular drive in front of the house. It was only when I looked out the window that I noticed all the cars parked alongside the perimeter that I had apparently been too busy to see while primping.

“Matty... what are all of these cars doing here? Who’s here?” I asked softly, frozen, eyes wide. Matthew’s smirk overtook one side of his face.

“Why don’t you go see, babe?” he prompted. I opened my mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to do, or say, or even think.

“Okay,” I finally whispered, taking the hand he had offered me as we moved out of our seats, leaving our belongings behind.

Hand in hand, we walked into the breezeway and through the side door of the house. It was... empty?

I looked up at Matthew, about to ask again why there were so many vehicles in the drive, when a familiar voice called out to us from the back porch.

“Out here!” Chantal...

Matthew was now openly beaming at me, ornery chuckles racking his chest as he gently guided my rigid form to the back sliding glass door. One glance outside stole my breath.

All of his family, all of my family, and dozens of our friends and his teammates stood together in the yard, crowded around tables decked in white, with bundles of silver and white balloons tied together with gold tulle scattered across the lawn. Among the balloon bunches were giant helium-filled diamond rings, and a banner reading “Congratulations, Matthew and Taylor!” was draped across the front of the cabana by the pool.

From where I stood just inside the door, I saw all four of the Tkachuks, my parents, my brother Sean, and my sister Erin huddled together on the deck, the other guests in the yard below starting to cheer as Matthew tenderly pulled me outside. “Come on, babe,” he coaxed with a smile. “There are some people here to see you.”

Tears stung my eyes as I finally stepped outside, clutching Matthew’s hand tightly, fully relying on him to support me and hold me up, both physically and emotionally, just as he always had.

My mom stepped forward from the group first, cupping my face in her hands, tears falling freely onto our cheeks.

“Mommy... you knew!” I said breathlessly. My dad came toward me next, eyes damp, kissing the top of my head. “You all knew!” I exclaimed, loudly enough that many of our other guests several yards away started laughing.

“We knew, sweetheart. Your wonderful fiancé has had all of this planned for quite some time!” my mother explained, pulling away from a tight hug.

“I can’t believe you came all the way from St. Louis!” I told my parents. With a squeeze of my hand, my dad said, “Of course we did. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I threw my arms around them once more, then turned to Keith and Chantal, the sight of them causing me to cry harder.

“Oh, honey! Don’t cry! We’re so happy for you guys,” Keith told me, pulling me close for a hug and kiss on the cheek, his chest vibrating with laughter, as Chantal put her arms around both of us. “So happy, Taylor,” she said, her voice tight as tears escaped her.

Matthew came toward us, having already been greeted warmly by his parents and siblings, and rubbed my back soothingly, his siblings in tow. “I would say welcome to the family, but you’ve already been part of the family for years now, so congratulations, T!” Brady mused, ducking past his brother to wrap me in a suffocating hug, lifting me slightly off the ground.

“Don’t break my sister!” Taryn warned, swiping under her damp eyes. The three of us laughed together, Brady slinging an arm around my shoulder while Taryn enveloped me warmly, sobs shuddering our shoulders. “You’re marrying my stupid brother! What the hell,” she laughed. I pulled back and looked at her with a giddy chuckle. “What the hell!” I echoed emphatically.

Matthew laughed along as he pulled away from hugging both my siblings, who then stepped forward to greet me, Erin squealing as the three of us jumped up and down a few times, arms circling one another. Matthew put his arms around my waist after Erin and Sean each hugged me and kissed my face, rushed words of congratulations and disbelief flying from their lips, as if they’d been holding them in for ages. I leaned back against Matthew’s chest for a moment before turning in his grasp.

“They all knew,” I said in awe. “Everybody knew!” Matthew nodded, carefully swiping his thumb under my eyes so as not to completely wreck my makeup. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to tell them yourself, but I just wanted everyone to be here with us to celebrate,” he said.

“Matty, don’t you dare apologize! The last twelve hours have made me so goddamn happy — I can’t even explain it,” I told him, gripping his white button-down at his waistline as I kissed him firmly, his insistence about the two of us wearing similar outfits for the flight home finally making sense.

“Me too, Taylor. Honestly. I just wanna spend the rest of my days making you as happy as I possibly can,” he told me, his blue eyes sparkling from a few happy tears.

I could not believe that my strong, stubborn, sassy fiancé was crying again for the second time in less than one full day. I kissed the tip of his nose and tucked some of his hair behind his ear.

“You are just full of surprises, Matthew Tkachuk,” I told him, slinging my arms around his neck.

He angled his face closer, stopping just short of pressing his lips on mine.

“You sure you’re ready for a lifetime of me, future Mrs. Tkachuk?” he asked. My heart soared. He guided my hips to sway back and forth gently, the sort of natural, comfortable, everyday dance I was fully prepared to enjoy for the rest of time.

“Hell yeah,” I mumbled against his lips, joyful tears springing to my eyes once more, as our mouths finally met.

[yan-twst]

Hi! Would you be alright with writing a HC with dorm leaders, when MC vents to them, sharing their fear for the future? Things like "I am able to return home? And if I regret returning?" or "If I don't get back, how will I survive here? What will I be after I graduate?", etc. Thank you and sorry for my English TwT

riddle rosehearts

riddle will hear his darling out, let them talk as much as they need

he can see why they’re so worried- crowley seems to make no progress on sending them back home, yet promises that it’ll happen, they’re considered half a student and no word on how their graduation would work has been spoken...

he feels a bit helpless- he desperately wishes he had the answers to his darling’s questions to help them calm down, but he doesn’t. there’s no clear cut answer for those questions and he knows it

all he can do is comfort them and promise them that he’ll guide them trough all he can- if they return home, he’s sure they’ll build an amazing life for themselves. if they stay, he’ll help them stand on their own two feet- he can’t promise that it’ll all be easy, but he can promise he’ll do his best to help

riddle’s entire childhood was spent in a rigid schedule, a direct paved way to a future that had already been planned out for him. while it was suffocating, it at least gave him an idea of what as to come; on the contrary, his darling’s future is nebulous, clouded and ever-changing... he can’t imagine how stressful it is for them

he’ll suggest attaching to a routine- sure, it won’t really fix anything in the big scheme, but... it’s the best advice he has; a routine can be grounding, something to at least let his darling feel like there’s a sense of familiarity in the passing days. it’s something he does himself: he hopes he can at least help his darling a little

leona kingscholar

leona worries over his darling, although he tries to not appear overly preoccupied while his darling talks. he doesn’t want them to feel like they are making him worry too much, or for them to stop talking. it’s good that they’re talking instead of bottling it up- he doesn’t want to make them stop

leona has long since given up on the only future he’d imagined- being the king- and he’s just living lazily, seeing where the flow takes him. he realizes he probably isn’t the best person to give advice, but... damnit, he’s not just gonna let his darling go back to living with all those anxieties inside of them

the future... well, it’s scary for everyone, but more for them, huh? he reminds them that, even if their memories from back home haven’t returned to them, that their life is their own; no matter what world they may return, they’ve already proved themselves to be an outstanding individual. and if they stay? if crowley can’t figure out how to let them return? then he’ll guide them through this world

he may feel useless as a second prince, but... well, he’s a prince- he can help them live a comfortable life, he can help them further their education at a school much more useful for a non-magic person... he makes it quite clear that as long as he has a say in it, their future isn’t something they must stress over

leona lives life as it goes by, rarely worrying over things to come; he knows that asking his darling to do that would be rather insensitive, considering their situation, but... hey, it’ll be ok- there, just nap with him... what comes tomorrow comes tomorrow; he’ll be there to do all he can, so there’s no point in overthinking it

azul ashengrotto

hearing his darling’s anxieties, their fears for the future... azul may not appear to be a very empathetic person, but it brings a tear to his eye; his darling, who’s been so strong for so long, who’s helped others... all while holding those worries...

just like he’s let down his walls and pretenses around them, he’ll encourage them to just let it all out; all their worries, their fears, voice them. he doesn’t think it’s “overreacting” or “exaggerating”- he knows how powerful and consuming dread can be

they’re scared and anxious, and he can see why- now, he wants to know how he can help. fearing regret from going home, fearing being here forever... he’ll do his best to express how strongly he believes his darling can thrive either way

the future is what they make of it, isn’t it? look at him- he was an useless crybaby octopus, and he’s come so far, hasn’t he? no matter what the future brings for his darling, he knows they can come out of it shining

of course, if for some reason they were to remain here in twisted wonderland, they have nothing to fear. he knows crowley will sort something out- he better- and it’s not like everyone has magic, there’s plenty of jobs and opportunities for people like them! they can count on azul’s charm and wit to open any door to any opportunity they may need; he swears he’ll do all he can to assure them a good life

kalim al-asim

kalim has rarely, if ever, worried over his future- it’s not as if he has his path set in stone, but... well, he lacks no resources to ruin his dreams, and he has a pretty good job set ahead as the heir of his family’s trading business. so hearing his darling vent their worries... he’s at a loss, at first

just because he’s a cheery and highly optimistic person doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to listen or be understanding of problems he might not relate to. kalim is known to listen to students’ problems and comfort them- of course he’ll do the same for his beloved!

it’s a very complex situation, and he knows as much; is a return to their home even possible? do they want to return home having no memories of how it is, or would they rather throw that all away and remain here? he won’t bluff and act as if he knows what the correct answer is, but he’ll be sincere: whatever they end up choosing, they’ll probably have regrets... as well as a lot of joy!

also... well, he doesn’t know when his darling will even have to make that choice (crowley sure seems to take his sweet time even researching where they came from)- but... they don’t have to worry about that part of the future, either. kalim has no problem providing for whatever they need- a house? somewhere to further their education? 

it’s not like he’s telling them to depend on him, although he has no problem with that: he just wants them to know he’s more than happy to help them stand on their own two feet so they can build a life for themselves!

vil schoenheit

when his darling begins to spill their worries, vil doesn’t even hesitate to break out the scented candles, massage creams, and expensive spa-day supplies. if his darling is going to lay their heart bare, he at least wants them to feel relaxed and safe

vil won’t pretend like the situation isn’t difficult, or sugarcoat anything. his darling is... probably the first person in all of twisted wonderland to be faced with such a difficult future, and that’s coming from a land where prophecies and magic exists

everything vil believes in is achieved through hard work; and he believes this is no different. while being able to return or not isn’t a card they can chose to play or not, if the time comes to chose, both options will require work. he’s 100% sure they can thrive in both their world and here- if they put in the work he knows they can

vil will emphasize how much potential his darling holds. can the future be uncertain and messy? oh, certainly. but no matter what life throws at them, they can stand strong and move forward. he knows they can

he’ll also make it quite clear that graduation won’t be the end of the world, even if crowley is gonna have to work overtime to figure out how to give an NRC graduation certificate to someone who can’t use magic. after all, not all fields of work NRC prepares them for are related to magic- for example, nothing stops them from being outstanding at alchemy or history, correct? there’s many jobs that might not even care about magic skills if their other skills are high

and... of course he’ll be there with them for as long as he can. while he can’t promise his help if they were to return to their world, he’ll be with them as much as possible- he himself has a pretty good future set ahead, and he knows he can easily incorporate his beloved into it

idia shroud

idia suffers from many anxieties himself- he knows how he’d like to be treated when he vents his worries, and so he treats his darling that way. a gentle listener, making sure they know he’s paying attention, but not interrupting

he’ll put his darling in an oversized hoodie and give them a warm drink to help calm their nerves- does it help? he just wants them to not feel overwhelmed, after dumping all their anxieties like that...

honestly, idia can’t even imagine what he’d do if he was in his darling’s place. they’re quite strong, to be dealing with all that stuff and still be so nice to others around them, huh?

he feels a bit bad; he... doesn’t have any sort of deep philosophical advice to help guide them down the right path, or any personal story to help calm them down- hell, he can’t even say they won’t regret anything because he knows he’d be lying, but...

... well, he knows his darling is capable of many things. wherever they go, wherever the fates bring them... if they continue being as they are, he knows they’ll be ok- they’ll be able to build a life to themselves. he has no doubt of this

he doesn’t want to make his darling feel like he’s telling them to be with him forever- you know, just in case they... end up returning to their home, but... he’s gonna inherit a pretty giant house back at home- so... if they were to stay... well, he thinks it’d be nice to live there with them; help them set up their life, find a job...

malleus draconia

malleus has seen empires be born and then die, kings rise to power and fall down- to him, the future isn’t a scary concept as much as it is just another reality of life. he feels like a constant in a moving world- a world that’s moving rapidly for his darling

their future... to malleus, it feels like it could happen at any moment: for his darling, a year is a long time, while for him, he’s lived through so many of them he’s almost lost count...

he fears he might not be the best person for this; ancient beings are supposed to be wise, but in this moment, he feels about as wise as a small child as he hugs his darling close and strokes their hair, comforting them as he can

to stay here, to go home... the question of if it’s even possible to return hanging in the air, the fear of regret and making the wrong choice... oh, child of man- there’s no wrong choice, he believes. the fact they ended up here is a mystery in itself: to do what their heart tells them in this scenario won’t betray them

don’t they know? they have the powerful malleus draconia by their side; anything he can do for them, he will. his power is no joke, either; whether it’s magical to aid in a return home, or just the fact he’s royalty and he can assure a good life for them... he’ll do anything for them and their happiness

[agentfreckles]

So I saw this video on Instagram where this woman was pranking her partner and basically she randomly got all dolled up and claimed she was just going to the grocery store to see how they would react. Do you think UB would have any funny reactions to that prank??

This is probably not at all what you were looking for, anon, but the second I read this I was immediately hit with inspiration. Long story short, your ask allowed me to complete my first fic after over a month of intense writer’s block. So I hope you enjoy my dumb little Adam drabble because I am seriously so thankful for you rn 😭

All Dolled Up 

Rating: General

Word Count: 1,308

Pairing: Adam x Female!Detective (Ramona Gibson)

Summary: Ramona selects a highly unconventional outfit for her trip to the grocery store. Adam is not amused. 

Notes: This is my first time writing specifically for Ramona which has me feeling all kinds of happy. Her name is only used twice and there are no pronouns used, so hopefully it’s not too distracting if you want to imagine your detective instead. But I’m so excited to finally give Ramona a voice and I hope you all like her as much as I do!

"Oh, come on!" I mutter angrily, about ready to rip out this stubborn curl that has decided to flop in front of my face yet again. My reflection stares back at me through the hallway mirror as I shove the lock of hair back in place for what must be the hundredth time in the past five minutes.

I don't even know why I'm putting so much effort into some lame practical joke anyway. The fact that I'm even doing a prank at all is completely ridiculous and so unlike me. Surely Felix hasn't been that much of a bad influence on me the last several months, right? But then again, he was the one who brought this concept to my attention by showing me some video he had found a couple days prior before not-so-subtly suggesting I try out the same thing on a certain Commanding Agent next chance I get. 

And somehow despite my reservations I ended up taking Felix up on his proposition and spent the better half of one of my rare evenings off getting all dressed up for what exactly? Just to get a rise out of Adam -- something that I can do just fine without having to fight to get my hair under control or squeezing into a form-fitting dress and high heels? Sounds like a hell of a waste in retrospect when it seems like all I have to do these days is breathe in his general direction to press his buttons, given how much tension there's been brewing between us the past couple of weeks.  

Now that I think about it, maybe it's that same tension that has me feeling compelled to act out in this way. Perhaps this whole thing was bred out of some desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, seeing me all done up and glamorous will give Adam the push he needs to throw away his inhibitions and finally-

No. I won't even entertain the thought.

This is just a silly little prank amongst coworkers. No big deal.

Renewed determination quells the nerves in my chest and I give my reflection a resolute nod before squaring my shoulders and striding down the length of the hallway. With one final calming breath and a whispered "You can do this, Ramona," I give the living room door's elegant brass handle a twist and step inside.

No turning back now.

Adam is sitting on the worn leather sofa near the fireplace when I enter the living room, looking lost in thought as he stares into the crackling flames with a deep-set frown. He breaks from his pensive state and stands at the sound of my footsteps before turning to offer a greeting, but the sight of me, or rather my outfit, makes the words get caught in his throat. When he does eventually speak, it's in a voice so soft I nearly miss it. 

“Ramona...”

Heat blooms on my cheeks both at the unexpected use of my name and the way his gaze passes over every inch me with the reverence and care of a lover's caress. With the help of the dim light from the fire's glow I am able to detect a glimmer of desire in those icy green eyes, the intensity behind them making my brain fog up with so much steam that I nearly forget about the practical joke I'm supposed to be pulling entirely.

"Hi," I offer pathetically, immediately clearing my throat to dispel some of the tension in the room and restore power to my malfunctioning brain. Miraculously, it manages to do the trick as even Adam seems to break out of the trance-like state he was in. He folds his hands behind his back, adopting the familiar rigid stance I've come to associate with the Commanding Agent when he's attempting to appear guarded and aloof.

“I haven’t heard mention of any formal events in your schedule," he remarks cooly. A soft smile grazes my lips when I notice his gaze still lingers on me a few seconds longer than necessary despite his attempt to convey casual disinterest. "May I ask where you’re headed?”

I smile, everything from the expression on my face to my body language a perfect picture of innocence as I deliver the punchline. “Just to the market to grab some groceries."

I wish I had brought a camera to record the speed at which Adam's eye dart up to meet mine, immense confusion overtaking his features. Suddenly I'm not so sure which reaction I enjoyed more: the unmistakable attraction radiating off of him in waves when I  had first arrived or the perplexed, almost outraged look on his face now.

"You’re welcome to come with me if you’d like.”

“I beg your pardon?” Adam scoffs, ignoring the invitation and instead cocking a brow and folding his arms disapprovingly as he studies me with a far more judgmental eye than he had before. “I fail to see how cocktail attire is an appropriate garment choice for a supermarket.”

Oddly emboldened by the clear distaste in his words, I decide to push a little further.

“What, you don’t like it?” I reply in mock offense before turning once in a small circle, my pace deliberately slow to give Adam the best possible view of the way the fabric clings to my every curve while I try not to get too wrapped up in the feeling of his eyes hungrily drinking me in once more.

“I didn’t say that.” Adam replies once I've finished my little display, coughing lightly in an effort to hide the slight strain in his voice as he speaks. “However, my point still stands. You are far too overdressed for a simple errand run. I would highly suggest you change into something more practical that is better suited to the task you aim to complete.”

Oh, now that's a bit of a mood killer.

Really, out of all the possible outcomes I was hoping to get out of this, an impromptu lecture from Adam was not one of them. The heat that was steadily building up between us fizzles out at his commanding tone and annoyance quickly takes its place.

Must he always be such an ass?

The indignant scoff that escapes my lips this time is completely genuine. “Says the guy who wore a button up and slacks into a sewer not too long ago.”

“I-You—Those were entirely different circumstances!" Adam splutters, clearly not expecting to have that particular incident brought up again, let alone in the middle of a debate he was so certain he had won just a moment before. The disbelieving look I toss his way helps him regain his composure quickly and his expression hardens once more as he fixes me with an icy glare. “And even if they were somehow similar, my motivations for doing so were far more commendable than whatever ridiculous excuse you’ve managed to come up with for this, I'm sure.”

“Oh really?” I mimic his stance, folding my arms across my chest and raising a challenging brow. “And what were those motivations exactly?”

“I...“ My chin proudly raises in triumph as I watch Adam’s stony mask crumble, a blush now rapidly coloring the pale skin of his face and neck as he struggles to speak. I must admit his reaction comes as a bit of a surprise. I’ve never seen him quite so flustered. And clearly neither has he judging by the way his gaze darts around the room in search of something, anything to rescue him from the nightmare this conversation has turned into.

"Well?"

Just as the red tinge on his cheeks is beginning to reach tomato-like levels of intensity Adam suddenly straightens. “I have work to do.”

And with that he turns on his heel, quickly marching past me and out of the room.

[betweentheracks]

Heyo! Not to be too nosy here but you mentioned you're in bad health and recovering, and I just wondered what happened? Also how would it impact your career since, from how you've made it all seem thus far, it's a highly active and demanding job?

Hope you take care and get well! You appear quite strong and not like you'd take whatever has happened just lying down, so here's to you!! 🙏💓

No sweat and no worries here, I dont find this particularly invasive. If anything, I'm flattered you care to ask after me lol. 😁

A few weeks back I met a friend I hadn't seen in some time for lunch. This was against my better sense of caution that I've held firmly to throughout the pandemic, but I would feel regretful and dismissive if I didnt agree to see her while I had the chance. I should've listened my gut and stayed safely at work because this "friend" failed to mention she had tested positive (she knew already by the time of our lunch date, she has since admitted) and had figured since she had no symptoms there was no harm in being in public.

FF only a few days later and I was feeling a little unwell but had put it off as an effect of the winter blast that had just hit where I live. I'd spent half a day out in the cold and snow for a photoshoot only the day before and thought it was probably due to that since I'm susceptible to weather influenced head colds and bronchitis. Fortunately, my job mandates a rigid COVID-19 screening twice a week due to our high profile clientele and as an assurance of health and safety for us all. Mine read back with a positive and with the way I had been feeling I was immediately sent home and the company closed its doors while the building was sterilized and our clients notified.

Thankfully I managed not to infect anyone I work with nor my son. Regrettably, I did infect my best friend since we're horrifically incapable of maintaining personal space and have weak shit immune systems. We both agree it is a wonder we made it this far into plague times without it catching us.

So I went and got looked over and sent on my way with my prescription of potent anti-virals and steroids. I was well prepared to abide the quarantine guidelines and had sent my son to my mother's home for the duration so that he was out of the danger zone. It was fine, I was kinda cool and keen on getting a few days to myself to rest up and all that jazz. But it wasn't meant to last and I found trouble in the form of being unable to remain conscious much at all and would pass out constantly. After a few times of this I gave my brother (he's a doctor and vaccinated) a ring and told him that my fatigue was no joke dude and needed him to come give me a better once over than the one I'd gotten before bc I was sure I was not meant to feel this badly. He found me unconscious in the shower that night, my head battered from crashing to the basin.

After ensuring I wasn't concussed and jokes on what a hard head I have to take such a beating and show no signs of registering it beyond bruising (a joke between us due to him having once accidentally put a golf club into my forehead and fracturing my skull but that's a different story) he told me to call him regularly so that he can review how I feel and the progression of my symptoms and left. By the morning I had already had two more instances of sudden fatigue and collapsing in on myself. I had been posting on my main blog here about how I was doing and due to this I caught the concern of @peekbackstage and upon their suggestion to have my O2 levels tested it was revealed that I was having issues with my blood not circulating oxygen as it should and nearing hypoxia.

Here's the rub. I have a heart condition that is already very dangerous and bleak which limits my heart's capability of delivering blood through my body as it should. Cardiomyopathy or, as it seems better known, congestive heart failure. I've had surgery for it and it has been a while since it caused me any real issues as long as I stick to my routine of care and manage my health, but when COVID-19 infiltrated my body it immediately snagged upon this weak heart of mine and sank its fangs in.

Within a day of being admitted to the hospital I had a grand mal seizure due to the constant fluctuations of oxygen in my blood and the way my body was working double time to supplement for it. And only 2 days after that and when my nervous system had finally quieted down, I went into full cardiac arrest with a heart attack at my young age.

My next weeks were spent connected to machines doing more for me than my own body could. I developed pneumonia in my lungs, acute though it was it was still another complication that my wrecked body had to overcome as it made my already ragged breathing even worse. I was steadily shedding muscle tone and definition due to a lack of mobility and the fact that my body felt like a deadweight I could hardly take command of, and generally very weakened. My heart, the horrible thing, was inflamed and trying too hard by beating too fast, too hard.

FF some more and I was doing fairly well and treatments were showing some improvement. My heart was still being an ugly and gnarled beast in my chest and throwing weird spikes on the monitor that raised alarms. The pneumonia was retreating and I had no further seizures. It was the dawning light of my first signs that I was recovering!

It took a while more and so fucking many tests day in and day out for me get cleared for release. I tested negative for COVID-19 and was ashamed that I actually forgot that that was why I was even in the hospital to begin with, given all that happened. I have to undergo physical therapy and counseling; PT for heart happy exercises as well as to manage to my depleted muscles, counseling bc I was rocked mentally from all the almost dying and the depressive haze of being holed up in the hospital and surrounded by people who, like me, came in with COVID-19 but unlike me did not come out of it.

I'm home now. I had to have a pacemaker implanted and must stay vigilant for any showing that my heart is not performing as it should. I still have some severe inflammation and chest restriction in my airways as well as my blood vessels but nothing too daunting. I also have a full battalion of prescriptions, most for my heart, and a nebulizer to ease any breathing issues. The worst is honestly that I still am very weak and have severely limited reserves of energy.

My job is required to make me take 12 weeks of leave for rest and recuperation. This is very upsetting since I had been requested by name to be an assistant stylist at the Grammys this year which is truly a dream (especially with BTS in the mix 😩😩) and also bc I'm just a workaholic by nature and love my job. When I return I am expected to learn how to properly delegate tasks that do not directly require me to handle and slow down the pacing of my projects. My boss terminated a contract with a client that was nearing the scheduled end of our agreement and was also incredibly problematic to help lighten my workload. It's imperative that I reign in my stress levels or my heart will not last until the next surgery I'll need, so I'm gritting my teeth and letting my job be picked apart to reduce my responsibilities.

My post awaits my return but I will not be returning to full activity for a while after, which means no rifling through the racks for hours alongside the archivists in search of the perfect piece. I'll be welcome to meet with my clients and oversee the glam teams, will still be the command tower for final verdicts on which styles to use. But I will not be running around showrooms nor personally handling matters any competent trainee could be tasked with like I've always done. I will no longer be able to fly out anywhere for destination shoots or fashion shows.

If, after my next surgery, things are better and my heart stable to the point that they are hopeful of things will be reevaluated. While it is difficult beyond measure for me to relinquish the reigns of my career and be restricted in what I can do now, I am very thankful to be alive and upright when that wasn't a certainty just a little while ago. This is such a humbling experience to have survived when my stats kept dropping every day. I've been told to expect that I will never make a full 100% recovery and to expect to stall out around the 70%-90% range, with 70% being the most realistic.

My best friend (the one I gave the plague to) will be moving in with me so that I am never on my own if things go tits up and to assist in wrangling a toddler since I am currently without the energy to do so as my child is, sincerely, a crazy gremlin spawn with limitless battery life. Slowly, my life will regain some normalcy 💖

[brightmiraii]

8DREAM

NCT DREAM x HARUMI

In which Harumi gets to know she will debut

WORD COUNT: 1k

Mirai speaks: and Harumi's first one shot is also out! You can send requests for scenarios, headcanons or just general questions you have about my precious baby! Enjoy!

GIFs are not mine! Credit to the owners!

Harumi’s masterlist

June, 2016

Harumi felt uneasy as she walked down the corridor of the executive floor in SM, following a staff member she judged to be a manager - which made her even more confused. Why would a manager interrupt her practice and say that the representatives of no other than Lee Soman wanted to talk to her? Was she lacking in practice because of her school schedule? It couldn’t be that, the girl made sure to make each hour she spends at a practice room in her best shape and mindset.

“Excuse me, sir,” she started and although the usual smile Harumi sports, her insides were twisting and turning anxiously. “May I ask why they want to see me?”

“You’ll find out soon, Harumi,” the man answered politely and, as if sensing her distress, he quickly added with a softer tone. “It will be fine, trust me.”

And trust the older man she did, stopping behind him as he knocked on the tinted glass door in front of him. Harumi started gathering her thoughts together, already planning whatever defense she might need to do, but everything fell apart as soon as her eyes met seven other curious pairs.

Sitting on the long white table were her friends from Mickey Mouse Club, Mark, Donghyuck (now Haechan, as he debuted recently with NCT 127), Jaemin, Jeno and Jisung; and with them were as well Renjun and Chenle, the Chinese boys she befriended not too long ago. Harumi had to hold back a large smile that almost crept into her face, opting to give them a small nod and a polite bow to the executive group not too far from the young boys.

“Sorry for taking you out of your vocal practice, Harumi-yah.” A woman wearing a detailed white blouse apologised quickly, though the Japanese girl knew it was half-heartedly, but still offered a smile in response. “Take a seat, we have a few things to discuss right now.”

“How have you been, Harumi?” A middle-aged man asked her, which was kind of ironic in her humble opinion, since he had evaluated the trainees the other week. “Your progress has been great as always, even during your very first monthly evaluation.”

“I’m training very hard, sir.” Harumi said with a small and timid chuckle. “The girls and I are learning a new routine, we’ll make sure to nail it by the time you visit us again.”

“It’s good to hear that the other girls are practicing hard as well, but,” he made a dramatic pause, and she bet it was on purpose since he smiled at her clearly rigid position on the chair. “We’re here to discuss your future as an idol.”

“As you may know, Seventeen recently debuted a girl in their group. Mark’s younger sister, to be more exact, and the response so far has been impressive, given the fact it was an addition to an already existing group.” The same woman from before continued talking, fiddling with a few papers in front of her.

“This concept is working well in the industry, the other companies are studying this kind of possibility and debuting a new group following this idea. However, we want to do it before anyone else, and since the next group we’re realising is a NCT unit with these boys, the executive part of the company decided to add a girl to the lineup.”

“I’m sorry, let me see if I followed you through everything.” Harumi spoke softly, a frown adorning her features. “You decided to add a girl in NCT, and that girl would be me? Why me, though? I mean- don’t get me wrong, I’m elated by the idea of debuting, but there are other girls that have been here longer than me, like Koeun unnie, Hina, Hyerin and even Lami.”

“They asked us to pick someone,” Mark answered, and a small smile threatened to burst into his face. “It was between the girls from Mickey Mouse Club, and you are the closest to all of us, your talent is crazy and honestly…”

“We didn’t imagine anyone else but you debuting with us.” Jaemin finished happily, shooting a wide grin in her direction. “Whether it was you or no one else.”

Harumi was excited, emotional, nervous and thrilled all at once. The words just said haven’t registered in her mind yet, only “debuting with us” ringing insistently. Was she really debuting with them? What about the other girls? The fans' response to that? A million questions ran through her head. She almost felt dizzy, but the seven boys looking into her eyes grounded her. If she wasn’t mistaken, she could see hope swimming in their dark orbes.

“So, Miya Harumi,” the previous man attracted her attention, a small giggle escaping his lips at the dumbfounded expression on the young girl’s face. “You are debuting in NCT Dream in August.”

“I- I-” Harumi tried to formulate any sentence, even appealing to another language she knew, but she felt numb. “Wow.”

“You eight can leave now, head to practice room 27 to talk. Harumi, you’re moving in with them in the coming days, so start packing your stuff. The manager, Hyungsuk, will let you know when everything’s ready.” They got up from their seats simultaneously, making everyone laugh at the coordinated action. “Congratulations on your debut, all of you.”

“Thank you so much!” And once again they acted synchronized, gasping at the incredible odds that just happened. Quickly, the teenagers left the room in silence; though it didn’t last long, as soon as Harumi closed the door behind her, the boys cheered loudly.

“Be quiet! People are working here!” She scolded instantly, making them laugh, now in a lower tone.

“You still act like the oldest, Rumi-yah. You didn’t change a bit.” Donghyuck teased her, causing the group to laugh as they walked towards the elevators, heading to the mentioned practice room.

“Of course I didn’t change, Donghyuck!” She complained, playfully punching his left arm. “If you have forgotten, you and Mark were the ones that debuted, Haechannie.”

“But you’re debuting soon, noona!” Jisung cheered, holding her shoulders and shaking her slightly. “And with us!”

“Yeah…” Harumi murmured, the reality sinking in her mind. She was going to debut with her friends. She made it. “We’re going to debut together.”

[thekidultlife]

#3 Dom/Sub | 30 Nights with Lee Jihoon

30 Nights with Lee Jihoon

Once a week. Almost thrice a month.

Sometimes even more.

It was Lee Jihoon’s idea.

As assassins working on opposing sides, life is always on the edge. Deceit, death and violence are invariably a lifestyle; things that never fail to tail behind you as sowers of chaos. Thus, it is necessary for things to be quick, temporary and detached, in case something unexpected happens. In matters of carnal needs, the same rules apply.

The arrangement was simple and straightforward. When the time and place has been agreed upon months prior via discrete channels, you or Jihoon would sneak into the venue of choice either as guest or staff a few days ahead of schedule. Meanwhile, the other would sneak into the hotel through a different manner and finally meet up in the room you have decided upon. Every rendezvous would be done in a distinct method in order to lose anyone who would attempt to look.

Tonight’s tryst, much like every other, was expertly done.

Posing as a socialite guest for the fundraising gala at the hotel’s expansive function room, it was easy for you to get in and get out. On the other hand, Jihoon had entered the hotel as a businessman on a trip a few days ago and it would be his last night staying at the hotel.

“Hm. This place is way nicer than the last,” you remarked, picking up your bag inside a heavy mahogany cabinet which was deposited there by you a week before.

You could tell it was a presidential suite with its own lobby space filled with minimalist furniture, a larger than life bathroom which had a pool for a bathtub and a luxurious king sized bed which Jihoon was currently sitting on, busy unloading the weapons in his person. It looked like a room straight from an architect magazine.

“Found this place during a mission a long time ago. Thought it’ll be easier to infiltrate with the amount of events they hold here,” he replied, chucking out a final pistol from his coat.

You hummed in acknowledgement as you finished sweeping the whole place of any hidden cameras and listening devices.

“Oh, and the dress stays on, by the way,” he easily remarked, regarding you with cold eyes and a mocking smirk. “It’s my turn tonight.”

Wearing a sleek silken black dress that was loosely hanging on your shoulders by thin straps, it teasingly reveals a bit of cleavage and a peek of your thighs. You calmly agreed as you stood in your place, waiting for his turn to move. Without breaking eye contact, Jihoon slowly moved towards you with hands in his pockets. The game had long started without any preamble.

"Did you miss me, Y/N?" He asked as soon as he was in front of you, his intense eyes meeting yours.

"I missed your dick," you replied bluntly, earning a small chuckle from him.

"Come on now," Jihoon admonished you as he fished out a small pocket knife, admiring the reflective surface of the metal. "I'm trying to be romantic here."

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "This relationship is hardly romantic."

Arching an elegant brow, Jihoon began to circle around you, regarding you from head to toe.

"I'm pretty sure it's easy for us to pretend it is tonight, don't you think?" Placing the blunt side of the knife on your bare back, he slowly dragged it down your skin to where the dress began to flow again.

You flinched at the cold metal as he lightly traces it on your skin in patterns of whatever. Now fully completing his circle, the both of you are once again face to face; a cold fire burning within your evocative gazes. As he carefully caressed your neck with the tip of the blade, Jihoon made a small smile devoid of any warmth.

"As heartless murderers, we often lust for things we can’t have," he says dripping with smugness, tipping your chin up with the knife. “And you and I both understand that unsatisfied lust could prove disastrous in our line of work.”

He meandered the knife down your collarbones, deliberately creating lines as if he was imagining it piercing through your skin. You sucked in a breath, unable to say anything with how hard your heart was pounding against your chest. Despite your silence and seemingly apathetic attitude, you were loving it. The twisted thrill of being at each other's throats sent an unbelievable high through your veins, the same way you chased after the thrill of hunting and to be hunted.

Yet it still wasn’t enough.

"Let's see, what should we do first?" He moved the blade on the strap of the dress, lifting it up as it pulled taut. "Should I cut up this dress to strip you naked?"

No. This wasn’t enough at all.

“I don’t think so.”

You suddenly grabbed his arm, twisting it as the knife hurled towards the floor. Yet Jihoon was fast enough to react and swung his free arm towards you. Forced to dodge, your hold on him weakened and he was able to get himself free. However, that proved to be a fatal mistake as Jihoon retaliated back and seized your wrist. He pulled you forcefully towards him, and using gravity and his own weight, he pushed you back, hitting the wall in a loud, painful thud.

“You…” Jihoon was panting, his jaw rigid with adrenaline and controlled fury. “And here I was wondering why you haven’t made a move yet. What a woman you are.”

All of that happened in just a span of a few seconds. As trained assassins, it was necessary to be quick and exacting. Every action had a purpose and no energy was wasted, as little mistakes could spell a botched mission.

You flicked your head to remove the hair that was covering your face as you smirked at him, your chest heaving from all the action.

“But you love it. You love it when I fight back. You love it when you have to drag me to the bed screaming. You like this kind of thing,” you continued to provoke him. It usually brings out more of that intensity in his eyes, that kind of animalistic behavior from his stoic and aloof disposition.

“And you don’t?” Jihoon chuckled darkly, his little canines showing as he closed in on you. “We’re cut from the same cloth, princess. You love this as much as I do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

He ground his knee to the apex of your thighs, making you inhale sharply. “You like this, don’t you? You like it when I’m rough with you, manhandle you like the little slut you are.”

Hanging on only your bravado, you glared at him. “...fuck you…”

Jihoon simply smirked at your petulance, tightening his grip on your arms while you struggled to break free from his grasps. “Say what you want, darling. Soon enough you’ll be screaming my name as I fuck your cunt until you can no longer cum. You’ll be begging me to take you again and again and cum inside you until it drips down your thighs. You want me to fuck you, hard and rough. You like that don't you, my little slut?"

His voice was low and hushed yet you could feel the anger seep through his words, through the harshness of his tone. You failed to answer as you felt his knee push against your core once again, now harder this time, making you bite a moan.

"...make me…"

You were panting, your arms lay limp on his grasps yet you simply refused to submit. Pride and thrill kept you burning, wanting him to burn along with you; wanting to break that mask he wore. You wanted to see an unadulterated, unrestrained Lee Jihoon; the one who bares his real emotions even if those emotions were anger and lust.

Defiant to the end, you managed to catch his gaze, glaring at him with half lidded eyes and parted lips. Nonetheless, it gave a similar effect as you felt him tense up, almost wanting to devour you. Grinning at you maliciously, his look was feral and dark.

"This is what I like about you, Y/N."

Without warning, Jihoon pushed his lips against yours in an agonizing and bruising kiss. You gasped at how rough he was yet this was what you were looking for, the rush you chase after. Hard and unapologetic, he would bite and suck on your lips as if he was trying hard to draw blood, and you would push back like you always do, ravishing his until they were red and swollen.

I'm so in love with you. I love, I love, I love you.

You both knew you were never good at expressing what emotions were brewing inside of your hearts. So you fought and fought, hoping that the other would finally get it. You both prayed that maybe through every insult, every slap, every stubborn indignation to never declare defeat, the other would finally understand what you meant. It was twisted, toxic and cruel, but that's how it was.

I can never have you.

He let go of your other wrist, opting to rather place his hand on your neck as he applied a slight pressure. He knew you loved it, as you easily allowed him to play with your tongue. Jihoon was loving it as well, dominating you was a great reward, in and of itself.

Brushing your dress aside with his leg, he slipped in until his knee found your gradually dampening panties again and pushed against it. You made a garbled noise while Jihoon enjoyed ravishing your tongue.

You were slowly heading to subspace, you knew that, yet of course, as usual, you wouldn't back down without a fight.

In a moment's impulse, you bit his lip hard enough to bleed. Jihoon immediately pulled away, glaring at you with eyes ready to kill. He wiped away the blood with his thumb and sucked it clean as he hardened his clench on your throat.

With a sarcastic chuckle, Jihoon leaned against you, gazing at you with eyes burning with anger and desire before speaking.

"...you little brat…"

As soon as he was done talking, Jihoon held your arms tightly and dragged you towards the bed. You staggered, unable to walk because of the ache between your thighs, and simply allowed Jihoon to toss you to the mattress haphazardly.

Jaws clenched, Jihoon pinned you to the bed with his legs as he loosened his tie, seizing both your wrists to tie you up nice and good. You tried to struggle yet it was pointless: Jihoon was too strong and you never wanted to escape anyway, you just wanted to provoke him.

"There you go, princess! Isn't this what you wanted, you fucking slut? Doing this on purpose… do you want to be punished that badly?" He finally spoke again, his words filled with sarcasm as he noticed your expression of complete arousal.

As much as he wanted to be composed, Jihoon knew that he was as horny as you were, feeling his pants tighten up as he gazed upon your form tied up and helpless. He was getting antsy, his blood was pumping fast and it was your fault that he had slipped control.

Grabbing the long forgotten knife on the floor, he made a quick work of your dress, cutting it up into pieces as you cried in protest. It's not like he cared if it was Gucci or something. Now, you were left on your black lace lingerie which Jihoon always appreciated on you more than any dress.

"Let's continue, shall we?" He told you, yet his voice lacked the teasing elegance it once had. Now you could feel the deep seated irritation and the punishment you had instigated.

"You seem to like my leg so much," he placed it once again against your wet clothed pussy, making you mewl. "Why don't you grind yourself against it?"

You moaned in protest, sobbing as you felt him push against your now sensitive clit; daring you to relieve yourself in the most embarrassing and humiliating manner. Yet you wanted it, you were tempted to.

"Come on now, darling. Isn't this what you wanted me to do? Or would you like me to punish you instead?" Jihoon exclaimed with a smirk, watching you squirm under his knee.

Unable to hold it anymore, you slowly rubbed yourself against it, moving your hips steadily as you made a face of utter pleasure. You could see him through half-lidded eyes as he tried his best to calm down even though he was absolutely turned on as well.

"Look at you, Y/N," he teased in a sing-song voice as he grinned. "You look like a fucking slut, enjoying my knee like that. You look so fucking desperate. Does it feel that good?"

"...Jihoon…" you mewled, opening your legs even more, as you pleaded for more. You were getting closer as you felt the pleasure build up, your hole clenching for nothing. You wanted him to fill you up more than anything.

Yet he only pushed on your pussy harder, making you scream. "Answer my question. Does it feel good, princess?"

Gritting your teeth, you tried to suppress a shudder, arching your back.

"Y-yes, yes! ….it feels so…good!" You cried in submission, yet you continued to rub yourself on him. Any time now and you'll be coming…just a bit more…more…

Satisfied, Jihoon made a small smile and removed his knee from you as you protested in sweet, sweet sobs from the loss of friction.

"...no, n-no…Jihoon, please…!" You were now desperate, pulling against the tie you were bound with.

With eyes full of contempt yet with a content smile, Jihoon walked away and went to the nightstand beside the bed. Opening one drawer, he returned with something in his hands. You took a breath when you finally realized it was a bright pink dildo.

Without a word, he returned to his place from before, giving you a look that screamed he was planning something. Your heart was beating so loudly that it was the only thing that you could hear. Pushing aside your panties, he rubbed the toy on your slit, coating it with your own slippery juices. Every time it would push against your sensitive bud, you could only moan and cry out Jihoon's name.

He was smiling sweetly at you as if he wasn't torturing you with a dildo. Adoring your writhing figure on the sheets, Jihoon wanted nothing but to pin you down and thrust in you as harshly as he could. But he knew, with eyes glinting of mischief, that greater things come with patience.

Without warning, Jihoon suddenly inserted the dildo inside you in one rough push as you screamed in pleasure, arching your back as you pulled on your restraints. You were overrun by intense spasms as you felt your orgasm wash over you, your chest heaving in full breaths.

"...fuck…Jihoon, J-Jihoon…"

You could only mutter his name as you tremble at the remnants of your climax.

"Oh, did I make you cum?" He asked, pulling and pushing the toy inside of you, enjoying the wet sounds it made while you were crying out how sensitive you were. "You do know well that you can't just cum like that, don't you princess?"

Not waiting for a reply, Jihoon simply smirked as he crawled towards you, taking a hold of your chin as he made you face him.

"Isn't this what you want? For me to punish you for being such a fucking brat? Don't you just love this, darling?" He whispered to you, his lips just a few inches away. "I'm a generous person, so I'll give you more than you asked for."

As he swiped his thumb on your lips, he once again gave you a bruising kiss, his tongue forcing your lips open and entering with such passion. Jihoon grabbed a handful of your hair as he raised your head, drowning away your moans with his deep kisses.

Distracted by his lips, you hardly noticed Jihoon reach out for his pocket and switched the dildo on, vibrating in you as you choked out a cry. Pulling away, he reveled at the pained yet pleasured face you made as pools of tears began to form. You were far too sensitive, yet you knew there was no way you were allowed to cum. Like what Jihoon had said, this is exactly what you had brought upon yourself.

"How about that, princess?" He chuckled, pulling your hair to force you to look at him.

With eyes glazed and lips parted, you had no choice but to gaze at him as your face contorted in pleasure. There was nothing more embarrassing as he watched you with a shit-eating grin on his lips, yet there was nothing you could do as the vibrations intensified.

"Don't you look so pretty, Y/N?" He mockingly cooed at you, his hand wrapped around your neck. "That fucked out face really suits you."

"J-Ji…please, please…nghh—! I...w-want you…" you muttered through moans and pants, yet he only scoffed.

"Come on now, princess. Are you already at your limit?" He moved the hand on your neck and pushed your head up. You couldn't see him but you know he was gloating. "After that show of yours, I'm sure you can handle a bit more."

Not waiting for a reply, Jihoon dipped down your neck and began to leave dark bruises on your skin as much as he could. You knew, after being with this man for such a long time, that he would leave visible marks, not caring if anyone would see. He was possessive that way, and you loved it no other way.

Making his way down, Jihoon easily removed your bra away and tossed it somewhere across the room. You immediately arched your back as you felt his tongue on your nipples, sucking, teasing, biting while you were reduced to a screaming mess. He can easily identify your sweet spots, memorizing it as easily on the first night. He knew you had sensitive breasts and he took no time to fondle and squeeze them.

At this point, you were at the brink of another orgasm, the dildo providing no comfort as it once again vibrated in your cunt. You had long been begging Jihoon, yet he had easily reminded you that this was a punishment by pushing the dildo deeper inside you.

"Do you want my cock instead, princess?" He taunted, pulling and pushing the dildo in and out of you, making a wet sound that echoed across the room. "I could give it to you if you ask nicely."

You could only groan as you felt his fingers brush against your clit, the dildo vibrating violently in you. You wasted no time to whimper pleas.

"P-please...mmnn...J-jihoon...I want it…I w-want it s-so much…"

He smirked. "Want what, darling?"

Taking every single inch of your strength not to cum, you replied with tears in your eyes.

"I w-want your cock…Jihoon…please, p-please! Nghh! I want in me…!"

Humming, Jihoon casually straddled you across your torso, his legs pinning you down as he gave a small smirk. He began to unbuckle his belt, gazing down at you who had more or less an inkling of what he was about to do.

"Since you've been a good girl and all," Jihoon began, slipping the belt off. "I'll give you a special treat before I fuck the shit out of you."

Unzipping his pants, Jihoon freed his now hard cock from its restraints. You could only nervously gulp as he took a fistful of your hair, making you sit up. With a grin, he pressed your face against his crotch, looking down on you.

"You know how to suck dick, right princess? With a low drawl, he asked; his contained lust and irritation obvious once again.

You looked up, nodding tentatively. He looked so immaculate at that angle, his smile almost soft, but you knew better than to let your guard down. Taking all of him in slowly, you accommodated his length in your mouth, careful not to scrape your teeth against it. Jihoon was big and it was difficult for you not to choke on his length without being careful, yet it seemed like Jihoon had other ideas up his sleeve.

With a tight grip on your hair, he easily forced himself down your throat, making you gag in the process. This was nothing new but it took you by surprise every time he did it.

"Your mouth feels so good around me, princess," he groaned out, caressing your filled cheeks as he thrusted in harshly. "Makes me want to come in that pretty little mouth of yours."

You gazed back at him, head bobbing, as you felt his hard cock twitch between your lips. You felt so full with both his dick in your mouth and a dildo still inside your pussy. Feeling your juices coat your thighs sticky, you clenched tightly at the toy as you felt his tip brush your throat. If this was your first time, you would've thrown up at the beginning yet being used to this, you knew how to handle him and how to enjoy yourself.  As he met your eyes, arousal shot down your stomach in a flash. You were instantly reminded why you always returned to him, why all of this was so addicting. You loved the look in his deep brown eyes--dilated, feral and aroused.

"Princess…ahh…that's right," Jihoon moaned breathless, tightly gripping your hair as you quickened your pace. "I'm going to come soon…you better take all of it in, okay?"

Humming your agreement, you unintentionally sent vibrations down his shaft, making him growl. In a few strokes, Jihoon came inside your mouth in a loud groan as you struggled to swallow all of it. Much like the first time, he came a lot and some had spilled down your chin.

Loosening his grip on you, Jihoon pulled out, his mind still lightheaded from post-orgasm. As he watched you lick yourself clean of his cum while still being tied up, with a flashy pink toy still in you, a new surge of arousal came to him. This was definitely not over.

Cupping your chin, he bent down to kiss you once again. This time it was deeper and more sensual as if a dam had opened up in him. You easily welcomed his kiss, moving against his lips sloppily. As if something had possessed him, Jihoon hurriedly took off the coat and the dress shirt he was still wearing as he pushed you down the bed once again.

Jihoon, as he opened your legs, took a good look at your ruined panties and your obviously and painfully wet pussy with a huge smirk on his lips.

"What a sight to see," he remarked as he slipped your underwear off. "You've only sucked my dick and you're this wet?"

Finding your voice again, you retorted back. "...like I said…I love your dick--!!"

Without allowing you to finish, Jihoon pushed down your sensitive clit harshly with his thumb, effectively making you shut up and moan.

"Being cheeky now, aren't we princess?" He arched his brow at you. "You're still not allowed to cum, by the way."

Pushing the dildo as deep as he could and then pulling it all out, Jihoon took pride at how he can easily have you mewling and panting. You had protested at the sudden absence of the toy inside of you, pleading Jihoon to just fill you up already. Tutting at your impatience, he simply knelt down and showered kisses to your inner thigh.

"That's what you get for being such a brat, princess. You don't get to cum unless I say so," he whispered to your skin, sucking one love bite on your thigh.

In a beat, Jihoon spread you open, his tongue on your clit instantly. You screamed, your hands gently pulling on his hair. Feeling his tongue licking up your slit, you had to close your eyes from the pleasure you were assaulted with.

"Oh…god…J-Jihoon, Ji...hoon! P-please!"

As if he had heard nothing, he only continued to eat you out like a hungry man; pushing his tongue in and out of you. More than that however, Jihoon spontaneously inserted a finger inside and began to finger your pussy. While you were busy trying to stave off the growing arousal at the pits of your stomach, one finger became two and then three. Jihoon was thoroughly enjoying you; sucking your clit as he pushed his digits inside of you; just curling at the right angle to reach your g-spot. He always loved how much you had become pliable with his tongue.

Washed with oversensitivity, you were already screaming at him that you couldn’t take it anymore. You could feel the tension in you stretch, just waiting for a trigger to snap. With how he worked you with his tongue, there was no way you wouldn't come undone.

"Jihoon…I can't…p-please, please…let m-me come…" you begged in between soft moan and sobs.

Eyes brimming with mischief, Jihoon gazed at you from between your legs. He pulled out his fingers from inside of you and sat up, almost chuckling at how you were becoming so livid at his push and pull actions.

"Don't look at me like that, princess," he cooed at you, pushing his fingers wet with your juices between your lips. "I'll give you your reward now."

Stroking his now hard dick with the fingers he had in your mouth, Jihoon smirked at you. Despite in your hazy and overstimulated mind, you felt your heart race as you paid close attention to him. You loved how his toned body moved, how he looked so sexy topless with only his tight black pants on. You loved how he would always coat himself with your fluids, teasing your clit with the tip of his dick.

Lost and mesmerized, you were caught off guard when he plunged into you, bottoming up in one stroke. You opened your mouth in ecstasy, unable to scream any longer with how hoarse your voice was. Jihoon's pace was always fast and rough, thrusting into you with certainty and brute strength. He had his hands holding your hips as you arched your back, your breasts moving as he pounded into you.

"J-Ji...hoon!" You cried out his name as he scraped against your g-spot, pulling on your restraints with how much you wanted to touch him.

"Ughh…princess…you're so fucking tight…" he grunted, sweat dripping down his muscular chest.

Grabbing your leg, he then placed it over his shoulder to reach you even deeper. Pushing into you who was muttering his name over and over again, Jihoon was in a frenzy. He reveled at your cute little whines, your cunt that was so wet and clenching on him so tightly. This was fucking heaven.

"Do you like my cock, princess?" He asked you as he pressed down your clit, waking you up from your pleasure-filled trance.

Watching yourself take all of his length in, you couldn't help bit squeeze on him tighter, making him growl at you.

"Y-yes, yessss….ngghh, y-your cock's  s-so…good, J-Jihoon…" you replied, eyes sultry. "S-so….good, mnnhh…please f-fill me up with your cum…!"

"You want my cum…princess?" Jihoon pounded harder, more erratic. "You want me…nnh…to cum inside you until it drips down your thighs…?"

Jihoon was getting breathy as you felt his dick twitch inside of you. You were in the same situation as well, teetering at the edge of a hard climax.

"Haaa….y-yes! F-fill me up! Fill me up with your cum, Jihoon! I want…I w-want it inside me!"

Jihoon groaned, rubbing your clit relentlessly. "Ughh…fuck…f-fuck, I'm coming! Princess, you better come with me…"

Thrusting in you as deeply as he could, Jihoon immediately sent you spiraling down your climax. Soundless screams ruptured in you as you felt yourself snap, falling into spasms of pleasure. Feeling your climax, Jihoon immediately followed right after with a loud groan, cumming as ropes of warmth filled you.

Breathless, Jihoon bent down to you, lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. His tongue effortlessly molding with yours as he cupped your cheeks, enjoying the way you moaned on his lips.

Still sensitive, you whined when Jihoon pulled out, as globs of cum immediately dripped down your hole. Staring at it for a while, something had clicked inside Jihoon's head. You thought he was about to tap out just like every other night, yet when he turned you around on your hands and knees, you knew it was hardly over.

"W-wait… Jihoon, I'm still--!!"

Not waiting for you to finish at all, he scooped some of his cum that had poured out and immediately thrusted in once again, stretching you out, making you cry out at the suddenness and the sensitivity.

"What…? You think we're done here?" He told you, his hands once again on your hair as he pulled your head back to whisper to your ear.

You wondered how he still had enough energy left, yet all your thoughts had just left you when he continued to pound relentlessly, his cock churning the cum inside of you.

"Ji…hoon…anhhh…I'm already…s-so full…of you…"

Closing your eyes to feel all of him, you could sense another orgasm building up. Jihoon was still so rough and unforgiving in all of his thrusts, and you could do nothing but moan and feel good at every stroke of his cock.

Still marking your back with splotches of deep dark bruises, Jihoon held you down as he took a bite of your shoulder which had you tighten around him like a vice.

"Ah, f-fuck princess…" he grunted, pulling your hips to his roughly.

Only the sound of skin slapping together and your loud mewls and growls could be heard inside the room. Jihoon had every intention from the beginning to mark you up as his inside and out. Even if it meant there would be more rounds than this. He was starting to become more possessive of you, and it was getting more complicated in his books, yet that only made the sex better.

"Jihoon…J-Jihoon, please…I'm g-gonna cum…ughh…please, inside me…cum inside me again…!" you begged, your head now on a pillow, drooling your words out.

Gritting his teeth to control himself, Jihoon pushed himself harder into you, brushing against your g-spot.

"Ah, fuck it, princess…!" He growled, "I'm gonna cum inside you…I'll fill you up so much until you're fucking pregnant…ahhh shit…!"

"Yes! D-do it…! Fill me up...K-knock me up please…J-Jihoon…!"

His rhythm had once again become erratic and his thrusts deep. With a finger rubbing your clit, you clenched and unclenched around his cock as you felt your orgasm just a few strokes away. As he pushed against your sensitive area, you once again felt ecstasy down to your very bones. You were still trembling and spasming with your orgasm when you felt him paint your insides with his cum, now overflowing your hole and spill down the sheets. Another wave of pleasure fell on you as you felt his warmth inside you, loving how full you were.

With a final kiss, Jihoon pulled out of you and untied your wrists. They were of course, red and irritated yet it was something for you to wear in the next few hours. Finally laying down beside you, Jihoon cupped your cheek and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

"Let's cleanup later…" was what you heard when you yourself fell as sleep.

The next thing you felt when you woke up was a soreness between your legs and back, and Lee Jihoon, who was still only in his pants, wiping your body clean with a damp towel.

"Morning. Water's over there, if you're thirsty," he casually said, pointing at the bedside table.

Crawling towards it, you took the glass of water for a small sip. This was one of the calmer nights, and you appreciated it when it happens. Most of the time either you or Jihoon would just disappear without telling, and admitting it or not, it had pained you for a bit.

Once again on the bed lying under the covers, you observed him as he cleaned himself up. He noticed your stares however and glanced back at you.

“What?” he asked, now hopping into the bed next to you. That usually indicated a few more rounds until the dawn of morning.

“Nothing, really. I’m just thinking,” you replied, allowing his arm around your waist. You could be a bit lenient with him.

He arched a brow at you. “I have my own thoughts as well,” he remarked, nuzzling on your hair. “The way you begged me to get you pregnant…”

He smirked at this, much to your chagrin (and embarrassment). “It was as if you were planning to tie me down. Which, I believe, isn’t something too farfetched for you to do.”

You smirked, closing your eyes. “Who knows? But I would definitely do anything to bring you down, even if it means going down with you,” replying, you casually held his hand, “Besides, men like you need to be tied up once in a while.”

Jihoon hummed. “Is that something I need to look forward to next time?”

“You have to figure that one out yourself.”

-Hyeri 

A/N: It’s truly been a while since I wrote smut. I hope this was ok ;;w;;

[saiilorstars]

The Serpent

Fandom: MCU // Pairing: T’Challa x woc!OFC

Chapter Summary: **One shot. Agent Citlalli Del Rio struggles to keep her professionalism in check whenever she visits Wakanda and its King. If she paid attention, she would notice that T'Challa has the same issues with her. Only he will know how to eventually get through to the woman who was once known as the warrior Serpent to her own people.

A/N: This is just a one-shot of an OC I'm currently drafting. I always like sampling a new OC with a few one-shots before I post an actual story and since I already did an OC/Steve and OC/Bucky one-shot series for each, we're going for the last OC I had in mind for now! A little context, she's a descendant from the Aztecs and, thus, from Mexico! The pronunciation of the OC's name is 'Seet-la-lee'!

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog​ @maaaaarveeeeel​ @stareyedplanet​ @perfectlystiles​

Citlalli’s Masterlist // Masterlist to my other OCs

[If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

"You certainly look as sharp as ever," Okoye remarked in her rigid stance when T'Challa walked up beside her. She didn't even look at him completely, she had enough sight from the corner of her eyes.

"As King of Wakanda, I have an obligation to look my best," was the very King's response. Had they not been surrounded by the Dora Milaje, awaiting for a scheduled visitor, perhaps Okoye would've snorted at the weak excuse. She may also be holding that snort out of sheer pity. She knew well enough why he was taking extra care in his appearance today.

As agreed upon, their visitor arrived a short moment later. Okoye could see T'Challa straightening himself up when the jet landed a safe distance from them. It was frankly bemusing.

The jet opened up and in a few seconds, a tall woman dressed in a traditional black pant suit with a white buttoned up blouse stepped down. Her caramel brown eyes met the awaiting group across from her. She walked towards them in a purposeful stride. It wasn't the first time she was lucky enough to visit the King in Wakanda itself.

"Your majesty," she said. Even the slight Spanish accent in her tone wasn't enough to hide the overwhelming sarcasm.

If Okoye hadn't already met her plenty of times before, she would've been outright offended with the sarcasm.

"Don't you dare bow," T'Challa warned the woman as soon as he caught one of her legs already bending.

The woman chuckled and straightened up that leg. "Caught me," she put a hand over her chest. "One of these days, you won't."

"I will keep my eyes sharp and open when you are around," T'Challa promised her. Beside him, he could see the tight-lipped smile Okoye was battling on her face. He had half a mind to send her away but that would out him in a second. Instead, he put all of his attention on the woman standing in front of him.

She was waiting for him with a polite smile on her face. Her curly brown hair was neatly laid on the left side of her neck but the light breeze in the air would occasionally pull loose strands.

"Agent Del Rio, welcome to Wakanda," he said, making her smile widen.

"It is beautiful as always and, just as always, my name is Citlalli. I beg you to use it," she glanced at Okoye with a polite smile. "Nice to see you as well."

Okoye gave a dutiful nod. "Likewise."

Citlalli put her hands together in front of her. "I am ready to start whenever you are," she said to T'Challa. "But I need to return to Virginia by the end of the day."

"Of course," T'challa gave her a nod. She was always on a schedule given her work in the C.I.A. but he always managed to stretch out her visits a bit more than what she always scheduled for them.

Citlalli motioned him to lead the way back to the palace. She assumed their meeting room was already waiting for them.

"Actually, I thought we could do something different," T'Challa said, much to her surprise. "It's just you and I this time so I thought we would have more time, you know?"

"Ah," Citlalli slowly nodded, "O-okay. Where would you like to have the meeting?" T'Challa set his eyes on the city beside them. Citlalli didn't quite understand until she followed his gaze. "Oh." She blinked.

T'Challa smirked. "Shall we?" he motioned her to walk first. Slowly, she did. T'Challa followed behind her but he met Okoye's smirk on his turn.

"Hardly a place for a meeting," she mumbled as they began to walk.

"Shh," he promptly told her.

~ 0 ~

"This is hardly a place for a meeting," Citlalli would unknowingly repeat Okoye's words later on in the day. She and T'Challa walked side by side down the bustling city. "I am not wearing the right clothes, either." She fanned herself with her hand every now and then. It was a warm day today.

"Nothing wrong with a change of air," T'Challa shrugged his shoulders. He enjoyed watching her curious eyes gaze over the many stalls lining their sides. Despite being one of the people allowed in Wakanda-the only agent allowed for that matter-she'd never gone out of the palace during her visits.

"Of course not," Citlalli agreed, "But, as I said, I am here to talk business." She glanced over her shoulder and saw the Dora Milaje walking a good distance from them. Privacy reasons and whatnot. "And besides, we could save the Dora the walk, couldn't we?"

"They are fine. Trust me, Citlalli," T'Challa insisted. "What are we supposed to be talking about?"

Citlalli sent him a flattened-expressed glance. "Did you not read the file I sent you prior to this meeting?"

"Of course I did, I just wanted to make sure you read them. Have you?"

Citlalli couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. For a King, he was rather funny sometimes. She tucked a curl behind her ear and sighed. "Alright," she conceded with him. They could discuss their potential plans outside. It was actually rather beautiful outside anyways. "It's regarding the center you recently opened in Oakland. Stark is interested in aiding with the funding."

"I am very thankful for it but Wakanda is more than capable of taking care of the finances of the program," T'Challa said, purposely stopping in front of a stall.

Citlalli was forced to do the same without noticing what the stall was offering. She was focused on the conversation. "Of course, nobody doubts that. I certainly don't but the idea is-"

"Would you like some?" He offered her a small piece of bread.

"What?" She blinked at it, having been thrown in the middle of her conversation. "Are you listening to me?"

"Of course, what kind of person do you think I am?" He offered the bread again.

Citlalli sighed. "I didn't exactly bring money to go shopping."

T'Challa smiled at her. "My treat."

Citlalli raised an eyebrow at him. "Does that mean you will pay?"

Before T'Challa could explain to her how it usually went, the seller herself told her that it was really her treat. How could the King pay and much less a friend of the King?

With that, Citlalli had no choice but to accept the bread, or whatever it was. She took it from T'Challa and dropped it into her mouth. As soon as she started chewing, sweet flavors of honey and nuts flooded her mouth. "Oh, that is good," she covered her mouth as she went through the several stages of divine tasting.

T'Challa chuckled at her. "I thought you would like it. I remember you mentioning your like for honey."

"Mhm," she nodded. "You remembered that?" It'd been an off-handed remark in a conversation she could barely remember.

"Of course," he said in a matter-of-fact way that made her pause for a moment. She studied him.

"What is it?" T'Challa asked her when the studying lasted minutes.

"I am just trying to figure you out,"Citlalli shrugged. She began to move again, prompting him to do the same. "I never considered you to be the type of King who walks through his own city."

"Is that bad in your eyes?"

"No," Citlalli smiled at him. "It's humble."

"I am glad you think so. Can I show you something else? I think you might like it." T'Challa picked up his pace to reach another stall.

Citlalli had to sprint a bit to catch up. They ultimately stopped by a stall full of flashy jewelry. She was delighted at the sight-he knew that she loved accessories. Her favorite, though, were the...

"I thought you might like this one," T'Challa took one golden snake-head bracelet. She was always drawn to the serpents because of her background.

Citlalli's smile faltered at the sight of it. "Um..." she swallowed hard. "That's very beautiful but...I don't wear that stuff anymore, you know that."

T'Challa nodded. "Because you haven't found your people yet, but I have no doubt that you will."

Citlalli never knew whether or not she regretted telling him the story of her lost village. She trusted him to keep the secret to himself but she wasn't sure if she was alright with the fact that someone else knew about her personal mission, a personal mission that she was failing miserably at. "You are kind with your faith but my personal agendas should not be any of your concern," she offered him a polite smile. "You are King. You have enough on your to-do list."

"I will always make time for a friend." T'Challa suspected that if Okoye could hear the conversation, she would've scoffed for sure. He was guilty of wanting to offer Citlalli a lot more than friendship.

Citlalli lowered his hand with the bracelet to the stall. "Please," she whispered, eyes falling low with distinctive pain. "Can we go back to the meeting?"

T'Challa was alarmed with the hurt in her eyes. That was never what he intended and the fact that Citlalli even showed that type of feeling meant she was truly hurt about something. No doubt it pertained to that personal agenda she had. Ever since he met Citlalli, which had been under the worst circumstances due to his own pain with the death of his father, she always gave the aura of strength. She hadn't been nicknamed the Serpent in her village for nothing. She was strong, brave and best of all, a mediator. She liked solving problems and providing the justice that most people didn't get. But it appeared that her solitude was slowly getting the best of her.

Anyone would if they were separated from their people for as long as she'd been.

"Citlalli—" He tried to mend is mistake but she simply asked him if they could talk about the meeting again. He didn't want to make her feel any worse so he had to agree.

The rest of the day was, lamentably, all about the kinks of the outreach program and a few other potential programs they could start. At the end of the day, they returned to where they started. The jet was already waiting for Citlalli.

"Before I go," she said, "This was from Stark." She produced an envelope from her pocket.

"Do we have any idea what it is?" T'Challa raised the envelope to the sky to see a few words through the paper.

"I might," Citlalli rocked back and forth on her feet. T'Challa gave her an odd look until she answered, "I may have gotten one myself."

"Gotten what?"

"It's an invitation. Stark is throwing a birthday party for Miss Potts. Very nice place, very sunny place, so if you go, you should take that in mind for clothing preferences."

"Will you be attending?" T'Challa curiously asked her. He had no idea where that act of bravery came from but he thanked Bast that it came.

Citlalli sheepishly shrugged. "My relationship with Tony Stark is terse at times but I do appreciate what he is trying to do for people after, uh, what transpired with the Accords. Plus, Pepper is a good friend."

T'Challa had all the information he needed. "I will see you there."

Citlalli half smiled at him. He always spoke so easily, she envied it. For all her experiences with people, royalty, he always made her feel like she wasn't doing enough. He simply made her forget things she knew how to do, like talking. Why he kept such an open friendship with her, she had no idea. Surely there were other agents he could speak with.

You're the only agent allowed in Wakanda. What's that about? She ignored the warmth in her chest each time she remembered that detail. He'd chosen her to do Wakanda's business with whenever it came to speaking with the C.I.A. Why? It was an answer she never got an answer to and truth be told, she was a little afraid of what the answer was anyways.

"It was lovely visiting, as always," she spoke up after realizing she spent a lot of time thinking silently. "Your city..." she glanced at the city's landscape on their side, "It really is magnificent."

"Hopefully next time I will be able to show you much more of it," T'Challa said, really having faith that the next time she visited, he would get it right and be able to show her everything.

Citlalli nodded. She held a hand out to shake with him. T'Challa took her hand and shook it but just as Citlalli would pull her hand from his, he gripped it. She raised an eyebrow at him, curious. Had they forgotten to talk about something?

T'Challa would then raise her hand in his hand to press his lips over it for a kiss. Citlalli felt a deep warmth over her face. T'Challa looked at her from under his lashes, smiling at her in a way that spread the warmth down to her stomach. Butterflies would even arise.

"I hope to see you at that celebration," T'Challa lowered her hand between them but without letting it go.

Citlalli had to catch her breath before even thinking about speaking. "See you..." She swallowed hard, immediately feeling the cold when T'Challa let her hand go.

Very unprofessional! The voice in her head scolded. She turned to leave as soon as her feet responded. She couldn't trust herself if she stayed another minute.

T'Challa was left to watch the jet disappear in the sky. In a matter of seconds, Okoye had stepped up beside him. "Well, will you really be attending that celebration?" she curiously asked, eyes wondering over the invitation T'Challa held tightly in his hand.

"If it is my only chance, why not?" He countered, smiling to himself. He wasn't all that into the idea of being surrounded by unknown people but if Citlalli was there then it wouldn't be that bad.

~ 0 ~

Stark's choice of scene for the party was, as usual, a grand site. Even Okoye would admit to it, but everything else was irritating.

"This dress is far too uncomfortable," she grumbled to T'Challa as they walked in through the entrance. He wanted no Dora Milaje around today and the only way that would happen is if Okoye accompanied him.

"You could go back..." He said far too innocently for anybody to believe him.

She threw him a sharp look. "What for? Agent Del Rio has no quarrel having me around. Do you?" T'Challa purposely kept his gaze ahead of them. Okoye's smirk wasn't something he wanted to face.

They eventually came to the backyard, a large place for the party. There were far too many people around, none that really concerned T'Challa. He saw a few familiar faces amongst the crowd eventually, like Rhodey and Pepper. As politeness went, T'Challa moved towards the latter to wish her a happy birthday.

"Thank you for coming," Pepper smiled wide, especially when Okoye handed her their gift. "You really shouldn't have."

"I hope you like it," T'Challa sincerely said. His eyes swept over Pepper to see if he could finally spot Citlalli. Maybe she wasn't here yet.

"Tony!" Pepper called, motioning him to come over from wherever he was.

"The King!" They soon heard Tony's exclaim.

Okoye rolled her eyes as the man headed their way. To T'Challa's surprise, however, he was not alone. Citlalli was walking beside him, looking like she'd just entertained something no doubt Stark "funny".

"Nice of you to make it," Tony greeted the pair of visitors. "A change of sights doesn't hit bad, does it?"

"No," agreed T'Challa. He met Citlalli's gaze, brain racking to say something good to her as a greeting. The way she looked, though, would prevent much of that from happening.

Her curly hair had been tamed to one side again, braided to the tip. She wore a spaghetti-strapped white maxi dress with a bright turquoise flower pattern. There was a beaded necklace of browns and turquoise sitting around her neck with a large shiny brown stone in the center. With little makeup, she boasted her natural beauty, whether she realized it or not.

"Your majesty," she beat him to the greeting, just like she typically did.

T'Challa wondered when he would be able to say the first word to her. Probably when you stop staring at her. Perhaps then...or perhaps not. He tended to lose air when he was around. "Citlalli," he managed to say her first name this time around. Baby steps.

"Okoye," Citlalli flashed a smile at the woman. "I love the dress today. Red is your color."

"Thank you," Okoye pressed a hand down her side. "But I can't keep wearing this all day. How do you do it?"

Citlalli and Pepper laughed together. The former then admitted that she wasn't all that used to wearing dresses anymore. "When you're a C.I.A. agent, you don't really get a down time for leisure. But Miss Potts over knows her way around pencil skirts." Okoye's face might as well have said there'd been a murder.

"We are not going to stand here and discuss skirts, are we?" Tony pretended to be oh-so-tired already. "There's music, there's dancing, food, amazing drinks. Please enjoy."

"Please do," Pepper said in a much kinder manner. "And thank you for coming." She headed off with Tony.

"I must admit I thought you would not come," Citlalli said to the pair when the others had gone.

"Why?" T'Challa curiously asked her.

"I don't know..." she shrugged, suddenly looking shy which was one thing Citlalli Del Rio was not. "I didn't think you and Stark were that close, that's all."

"We are not, but it is a good idea to be on a amicable terms for both sides."

Citlalli nodded with an understanding that only they would understand. After the Accords, everyone knew that the ties between Stark and most of the Avengers had been thoroughly severed. "I am glad that you can do that," she said. "And I am also happy that you came."

Now that brought a good smile from T'Challa. "Really?"

Citlalli's eyes flickered to the side, hoping to calm that warmth in her face again. "Yes, I...I need to speak with you, actually."

Surprising given the location they were in, but T'Challa would take it. He glanced at Okoye, not needing to say it out loud. She could barely hold the struggle to not roll her eyes.

"I will be over there..." she excused herself and walked away.

"You look beautiful today, agent," T'Challa said as soon as they were alone for fear that he would lose his courage. It was all worth it when she smiled bashfully. Did he make her shy?

"Thank you," Citlalli found her voice a few seconds later. She couldn't help look him over—ignoring how utterly unprofessional it was—and concluded that he was as handsome as ever in his casual dark suit. If he moved, she would get a flicker of purple. "You look good," she returned when she was sure that she would be able to say it in one go.

"Would you like to dance?" T'Challa made a gesture to the ongoing dancing behind them. It wasn't quite his style but he could only dream of being that close to Citlalli and today he might just get the chance.

Citlalli's eyes flickered past him towards the dancing. "I was just dancing with Stark..." she started, already sounding weary as she began to remember it.

T'Challa chuckled at her expression. "I will not be like Stark."

"I doubt you could be," Citlalli said. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"Does it pertain to business?"

"No, not really."

"Then can we dance first? After that, I promise I am all ears."

Citlalli bit on her bottom lip as she considered the implications of a dance with him. It wasn't a slow dance but it did require for arms to be around each other's. Could she handle that? Whether or not she could, did she want to? Absolutely, she answered herself on the spot.

She finally gave him a nod. "Okay."

T'Challa reached for her hand, raising it first and foremost to kiss the back of it. She awarded him a soft smile in return. "Beautiful bracelet," he remarked as he led her towards the dance by the hand. Citlalli could feel his thumb grazing over the feathered jade-colored bracelet he mentioned as well as her skin. A ploy she wasn't really against.

"Thank you," she said once they stopped together. He turned to face her, picking up her hand against to hold on their side. "Hand made," she would say as she moved her free hand over his shoulder. She swallowed hard when his free hand slid behind her back. He had the gentlest touch.

"You don't say?" T'Challa sarcastically asked, making her chuckle.

"My aunt made it for me a while ago. She tried to get the most precious stones to make it," Citlalli explained as they started swaying to the music. "She tried to make it like home," she added in a quieter tone. Her gaze fell for a moment. Home was a raw subject even years after everything had occurred.

"That was very kind of her," T'Challa's voice would pull her out of her moment. He didn't know how he did it but he was glad he did. Citlalli met his eyes. "I have heard terrible stories of adoptive parents and their respective families. You have no idea the relief it brings me to know that it was not your case."

Citlalli half-smiled at him. "You shouldn't feel anything," she told him. "You've only known me for a year. Everything that happened to me was a long time ago."

"If it pertains to your well being, I will," he clarified.

"You simply care too much but I suppose that's what will inevitably make you a good king," she shrugged. "And a good friend."

Friend. It stung even though she used it so kindly on him.

T'Challa surprised her with a twirl. It had her laughing when she came back to him, leaning on him. He was smug when he grinned. "I can be many things, Citlalli."

She had to agree there. She peeled herself off him and continued to sway kindly to the music. "A good dancer, amongst those. Did Shuri teach you some of those moves?"

"The fact that you think I could only be a good dancer is if my baby sister taught me is quite offensive," T'Challa bobbed head as if he was doing his own little dance to the song. Citlalli giggled. She hardly did that too so when she did, T'Challa relished it. He may replay it in his head a couple times too.

"I would never offend you, your majesty," she drummed her fingers over his shoulder. "...but did she?"

T'Challa's face fell flat. When Citlalli started laughing again, he surprised her with another twirl. This time when she came back to him, he made it so that they were closer than before. Their foreheads would nearly press with their inch gap. She smelled sweet and floral, intoxicating and addicting. How dare she walk around like that and expect him not to fall for her? Because that's exactly what happened to him. He craved her presence whenever she wasn't around, and it was unfortunately like that most of the time. Her visits to Wakanda were sporadic just as his were to America.

Citlalli was very aware of their closeness and as much as she told herself to step away, her feet were only responding to the rhythm of their dance. If she were to move just an inch, maybe half an inch, something would happen that should not...but it was something that she really wouldn't mind either. "Uuh...can we talk now?" she thought to ask. Her question, though asked in a whisper, was still enough to break their moment.

T'Challa stepped back from her and nodded at her. She took his hand, an act that made things a little better for T'Challa, and led him away from the dance. She found a nice place on one of the garden sitting walls.

"What is troubling you, Citlalli?" T'Challa asked as soon as they were comfortable.

"I was thinking about the last time we saw each other and...T'Challa, I am so sorry for the way I behaved what that jewelry stall."

"What—"

"You were being kind and no matter what, I should have appreciated it. I know I have a hard attitude and sometimes I don't realize it then but I'm really sorry."

"Citlalli," T'Challa touched her cheek, an act that left her frozen while he spoke, "There was no problem there. My plan simply didn't result, but it wasn't your fault."

"Plan?" Her face scrunched. "What plan?"

"My plan to show you the city, of course, and see your smiles."

Citlalli's eyes flickered to the side in thought. "I...do not understand. I thought I was apologizing, it's been gnawing at my head since it happened."

"Please let it go, I hold no resentment. As if I could ever do that with you," T'Challa flashed her a smirk. "You do not see it, do you?"

"See what?" Citlalli watched him carefully. Her nerves were rising and she wasn't even sure why. Nothing was happening.

T'Challa's smirk faltered and soon it turned into a sad smile. "Nothing. This conversation did steer us towards something I wasn't sure how to best introduce."

"What do you mean?" T'Challa motioned her to give him a second. He shifted to better face her then reached for something in his inside pocket. Citlalli watched him pull out a small box. She was startled when he held it out for her. "For me?" she pointed at herself with wide eyes.

"Yes, I chose it with great care. Open it."

Citlalli was hesitant at first but who could say no to him? She couldn't. She took the box from him and pulled it open. Her eyes widened even more when she saw a coil, double wrapped, snake bracelet tucked inside. It was golden with the stones of the snake head in her traditional color of turquoise. "This is beyond beautiful!" she gawked. "Where did you get this from?" It was hard finding those two colors together, she would know.

"I had this made for you," T'Challa explained, earning her fully stunned face. "I know that you always have a hard time finding things that are close to your home. Wakanda may be a place far away from where the Aztecs lived but I hope that this makes home feel a little closer."

Citlalli didn't know what she felt except for the stinging of tears in her eyes. "Oh...this is...T'Challa, you really didn't have to do this. I-I can't take this." She closed the box quickly and tried handing it back to him but he wouldn't take it.

"It's yours, Citlalli. The Serpent," he reminded her of her old name.

"I used to be," she corrected him.

"No, not 'used' to be. You were a warrior for your people and you're still a warrior today. You're just a little lost."

"A 'little'," Citlalli said bitterly, more to herself than anyone else.

"There is nothing wrong with being lost so long as you try to get back on the right path." T'Challa reached a hand over to her cheek and cleared off her tears. "I would like to help in any way that I can."

Citlalli sniffed. "Why?"

T'Challa tilted his head at her. "Because I want you to be happy. It could be selfish of me but...I would like to be the reason you're happy. Whatever it is, I'd like to be it." Citlalli softly smiled at him. That smile counted for millions. "May I?" He motioned to the box. She nodded and opened the box for him. He pulled out the bracelet and took her wrist, gingerly sliding the bracelet down her skin. His hand caressed her skin as he secured the bracelet around her wrist. Citlalli felt the shudders from his touch and wished time would slow so that his fingers could stay over her like that.

"Thank you," she said meaningfully. She could thank him for everything and it would still feel like it wasn't enough.

T'Challa was on the same page as her. "Thank you." He would never have the right words to express his gratitude for everything she'd done for him since the moment they met.

Citlalli shyly met his gaze, lips quirking into a small smile. Words weren't enough, but actions were. T'Challa's fingers came to her chin, gently pulling her forwards a bit. He leaned the rest of the way and pressed his lips against hers. Citlalli's eyes fell shut with the contact. Time did stop for them in the end. Her lips easily moved with his, discovering how truly soft he was. Everything about him was, even when those same lips were used to make sarcastic little comments every now and then. Little did she know that he thought the same thing of her. She was always professional, never saying the wrong thing. Sometimes, he wished he could get her to do loosen up and that was coming from him. Either way, however she was, he wanted her to stay just like that.

T'Challa pulled away first. He lowered his hand from her chin to her hand. He found her fingers to interlace with his and to his delight, she gripped his hand in return.

"You know, in my village, our stones were so beautiful and valued that we would use them in our conversations to refer to anything that we found precious." Citlalli's lips stretched into a wide smile. "To me, you're as precious as any one of those stones, even more." She touched his cheek, her fingers stroking a few gentle circles over his skin. "It's just hard to admit it with my hard attitude and all..."

T'Challa chuckled lightly. "You keep that hard attitude. I don't want to change anything about you." Citlalli chewed on her bottom lip while her insides desperately fought off the intense heat when T'Challa wrapped an arm around her waist. "My Serpent," he whispered fondly.

Citlalli brought her hands to her shoulders. "We're at a party—" Her laugh was muffled by another of his kisses. "Hardly the way a King would act, no?"

"I think I'm doing exactly what I should be doing," T'Challa said proudly. Citlalli playfully rolled her eyes at him. "Would you like to dance again?"

"I...guess..." The party did seem a more cheerful suddenly. Citlalli ended up nodding.

T'Challa let her go to stand up then offered her his hand. This time there was no hesitation when she reached out to take it. He pulled her up to her feet then kissed her hand.

She smirked. He saw her knees bending but this time, he couldn't stop her. She bowed. "Your majesty!"

"You did not—Citlalli!" He exclaimed. "Stop that!"

She giggled as she straightened herself up. "I told you that you wouldn't be able to catch me one day."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow at her. She nodded proudly. "Oh..." He pretended to accept his defeat only to snatch her body and pull her up to him. She yelped with the sudden yank. "Look at that, I just caught you," he said innocently.

Citlalli took in a deep breath and rested her hands on his shoulders again. "Game on, your majesty."

"Game on..." T'Challa laughed. He cupped her face and planted another kiss on her, a longer one that would leave them both in need of air.

[acedhigh]

SIEGEMAS 2020 @dualrainbow​ starring: Marius Streicher, Dominic Brunsmeier, Monika Weiss, Elias Kötz. main blog: @elitejager​ note: hey to anyone who reads this, I haven’t written anything in forever and the only time I’ve ever written a fic was a request, so this is a first for me. as an Autistic person I wanted to touch on the topic a little (i.e how the world views us versus how we view others and express ourselves) and incorporate it into my prompt for this piece. Marius inspires me a lot, I know he’s a popular part of Team Rainbow so I hope you all like it & happy holidays ✌

07 December.

As an icy chill snaked its way down his nape, Marius was reminded of the changed season. Days, weeks even, inside the workroom (his 'safehaven' as he called it to himself), made time and weather and all things mundane merge together in one big negligible blur. The transition between October into November now early December had seemed so...rapid. "Getting lost in one's work" was nothing short of apropos for this revelation; Unfazed by the cold however, he merely rolled down his sleeves and resumed gazing intently at his go-to site for ordering parts - Hated the white background (far too garish) but it offered the best of the best, and a quicker delivery schedule. He'd need it. It wasn't unusual for him to spend great bouts of time in one place. Even less unusual to be knee-deep in a project or two. But it was when morning frost and Christmas music became part of everyday life to crudely round off the year, that Monika and Elias were particularly attentive to Marius and his propensity to isolate. He'd been like that as long as they could recall. It could be almost jarring at first - His quips that'd rub less-familiar colleagues the wrong way, the speed at which his social battery would fizzle out like an ember, and a subtle arrogance which stepped on many toes. In contrast to Marius' heated and bull-headed nature, even his enthusiasm and eagerness to share or contribute somehow seemed misplaced or perhaps just poorly timed; Boundaries were a struggle and frequently crossed line despite how many walls he put between himself and others. He was unpredictable to most. "Hard to decipher", as Monika once put it. She was the first out of the four to recognize he was on the spectrum, and it tugged at her heartstrings to watch him endure contempt in place of a little understanding - But she vowed to hold her tongue. She did not want to patronise or belittle someone as bold as Marius. After all, in many ways she considered him to rival herself academically, and that garnered much of her respect. He was capable, he didn't need her or anybody else to coddle him or worry. Monika did not worry about him at all in fact, until this time of year.

16 December.

Elias had a similar view. Never had he met someone so rigid in his performance, so disciplined, yet so antsy. Must be the whole chaos of creativity, he thought. He recounted several incidences where he tried his hand at entertaining Marius, to no avail. Like things just didn't connect with him or tickle him the way Elias could achieve with others. But that didn't mean they lacked a connection at all - They were close, but where other people stood Marius was always one step further away, by his own accord. It was clear from the get go that the engineer liked to do things his way and per his agenda. Elias would grant him the favour of “breathing room” because he knew that although Marius held people at arms' length, beneath that eccentric exterior there was a shining heart of gold that cared deeply about the people he would shoo out of his workroom. Today was no exception, apparently.

"Hey, Marius--" There he was, ensconced in something technical of course, and drenched in fluorescent white light.

"No!"

"Huh--"

"Don't-- You can't look. Just...I'm busy. And I'm discussing this prototype of mine with the head of BMVg, whatever it is, it can wait."

Oops, Elias. "This isn't for prying eyes, it's commission work. I'll humour you later."

"Ah, err, got it. No peeking. Just don't work yourself to death and I'll check back in tonight. See ya!"

Yeah, this wasn't uncommon he muses, as he's met with a cold hand gesture towards the door. Though Elias couldn't help but wonder if maybe Marius was pushing himself even harder as to not think about the holidays. Dominic's relationship with him was different. Not as warm to the touch. And certainly more volatile, when tension arose. A clash of unorthodox personalities. They were polar opposites in one way, but fiercely empathetic in others, because pariahs stick together even when grating on each others' nerves - It was their non-conformity that made them a good team no matter how unconventional (and potentially troublesome) the dynamics. He knew how it was to be alone like the back of his hand. Maybe that too is the reason for their kinship, once all strain dissipated. Even he occasionally considered how his comrade handled the isolation; Dominic relished it to a degree, a darker mind who co-existed with his demons. But he knew Marius and he frequently observed his drive to form relationships only for them to fall flat or worse because of that same old disconnect Elias talked about on occasion. Never brought it up verbally but nothing could ghost Dominic's perusal. "Damn. Rejected again," Elias jests as he spots Dominic taking a break from playing grease monkey on his bike - Cigarette routinely positioned in mouth and garage wide open so that snow had begun collecting on the entrance floor. This wing was probably his safehaven, too.

"You should leave him to it." Dominic takes a long drag before expelling two plumes from his nose.

"Yeah I know, I know. Just seems wrong to not try. I don't think he's going home for Christmas. Hasn't heard from his Uncle for a couple of years...Not sure why. Marius tells me that's nothing out of the ordinary. Still, doesn't hurt to remind him we're around."

"He knows we're around. If you and Monika make a fuss it'll probably backfire."

"You could be right. But hey, buzzing in somebody’s ear is better than letting them feel ignored. I wouldn't be half as fun if I wasn't annoying."

"...Are you sure 'fun' is the right word?" Dominic concealed his smirk behind another toke.

"Whaaatever. Have a good night Brunsmeier. And don't get too cold old man! I don't know how you have the place all opened up on days like this. I don't want to come back tomorrow morning and find you in cryostasis."

"Uhuh. Well, snow chains. Fitting new ones on the tires and have to put 'em to the test somehow. See you, Smartass."

23 December.

The air was cold and dry and it permeated indoors but the serenity of snow blanketing everything for miles upon miles outweighed the chill in his lungs. Even the sun couldn’t thaw the ice nor interfere with celebrants having their white Christmas. From the moment he'd woken up that morning he rushed to get stuck back into his work without so much as cranking up the radiators. No matter the climate, it wouldn't deter him from his endeavours, much like Winter itself. As he fine-tuned his latest creation Marius felt overcome with accomplishment and relief knowing he had the rest of the day to spare after hours of trial and error. Fingers weaved and arms raised he stretched up high, taking a moment to admire the fully customised apparatus begging to be used. Fishing his phone out of a denim pocket he checked the time and grabbed one of the gift boxes wrapped neatly with a lavender bow. Monika would always make a point of going home to celebrate with her family - he'd heard many stories about her mother's Sauerbraten - and was always the first to leave to ensure she'd catch her flight. Ergo, her turn came first. His soles crunched against the virgin snow as Marius made his way to the dormitories. He could've forgotten the clean scent of fresh air or the sheer brightness the day can bring after spending a majority of his time hunkered down at the workroom. Cutting it close, he was fortunate enough to cross paths with Monika, luggage in her wake while punching in a numberpass for the electronic gate. "Monika!" He called out, waving her down.

"Hm?" Immediately she turned on her heel - Perhaps he startled her, or it was the (pleasant) surprise of hearing that familiar voice in another place other than his station or dorm.

"Monika, I'm glad I could catch you. Here--" Offering the palm sized box it was clear to the both of them that neither knew exactly how to handle the situation without underlying befuddlement. "--Frohe Weihnachten." (Merry Christmas). Ah yes, he'd forgotten that part. He wasn't well-versed in the act of gift giving - not face to face, at least...

"Really? For me?"

"Of course it is. It's purple. I don't know anybody else's favourite colour."

"I'm a little speechless...! Thank you Marius, and Frohe Weihnachten. I got something for you too, so did Elias. You were too busy we didn't think to disturb you and thought we'd leave them on your desk. You're welcome to pick them up yourself beneath the tree Emmanuelle and Yumiko set up in the foyer." Something akin to a glorified 'Secret Santa' Harry suggested for Team Rainbow to build on their camaraderie but appealed little to Dominic.

"Oh, that was unnecessary, but I'm grateful. Then I'm obliged to thank you as well. I didn't expect anything - I just wanted to see what I could come up with. I hope you like it."

"No act of benevolence is unnecessary. I'm tempted to open this up right here and now, I'm very curious. I'm going to show restraint however and open it tomorrow. I'll shoot you a message afterwards, OK?" She unzipped her case and placed it delicately atop folded clothes. Whatever it was, it seemed fragile, and would need the padding. "You take care of yourself Marius. Tschüss!" She passed through the gate and left with a smile.

24 December.

With more confidence after yesterday's exchange next in line was either Elias or Dominic, whoever he bumped into first. Today was bitterly cold and much darker, grey clouds hanging overhead almost as thick as the snow. Still, it was welcomed by those who enjoyed the seasonal comforts of lounging around; Vastly preferable to these scorching Summers in recent years, to Marius' admittance. He could spy from beyond his work station window that Dominic had the garage locked up early and was now dumping fodder to feed one of his burn barrel fires. To Marius, this had grown synonymous with Winter, and was a good way to gauge the severity of the weather - Dominic explained to him that it became habit from his undercover days, and was a quick & easy disposal method of...well, anything that could burn. Which sounded vaguely ominous with the way he put it, and there was no doubt in his mind that it absolutely was ominous. But that was then. He would ponder though, what his fellow operative saw in those flames. If he thought of an array of things and memories like a haunting myriad or maybe he just saw nothing more than a warming fire and burning magazines. It was hardly worth asking either, because he was scarcely linear, and seemed to quietly take pleasure in keeping people on their toes. An enigma for sure. They both were. Joining Dominic's side he could feel heat from the fire and the barrel itself as it raged on between them.

"You've been out here a while?" "An hour, maybe less." "Can't be too good for you. It's cold & flu season. If you're going to see your nephews and nieces, that's not wise." "I've dealt with worse." "Yes, that's true, I'm sure your lungs appreciate your pack-a-day fitness ritual." "If I smoked a pack a day, BPOL would give me the chop faster than any bad habits could on my life expectancy. Besides, I can still outrun you. Did you come here to give me health advice or was there something else?" "I know you well enough to know that giving you advice often goes unheeded." Much to my dismay. "So no, however--" He presents the red giftbox to Dominic, which he'd yet to acknowledge. Or he didn't care enough to ask. There's a visible confusion that reads in his otherwise stark expression - Like Monika's the day prior. Was it really so foreign for Marius to present his generosity this way? "Oh...?" "Open it, Dummkopf." Rather than muster some spur of the moment retort Dominic does as instructed. He settled the box in snow and crouched down to examine what awaited inside. "Pure silver electromagnetic rods. In a similar vein to an EMP device, rather, a preemptive attack on them and on your target. Think of them as an extension to your CEDs. Place them around in any formation you like to create an electromagnetic field; They will go live the moment your CEDs do. I've included a remote for functionality and to check that they're all within range of each other. The frequencies will be dizzying for enemy weaponry and at the touch of a button, shock anybody standing within the field's radius." Astounded, Dominic can only look down in disbelief at the device in his hands. It's one thing to fix up an old motorcycle, or even a car, but something of this calibre was truly belonging to a prodigious acumen. And that prodigy is Marius Streicher. "Oh, there's also armbands and a 'plate' you fit to the bottom of your footwear to absorb static and safeguard you from being on the receiving end of the electrogrid. That part should be a familiar concept." "..." "Well?" "I don't know how the hell you come up with this shit, but it's incredible." "Mmhmm. Of course it is, I made it. Brave of you to finally admit that." "Don't make me regret showing some gratitude. I mean it. Is this what you've been busying yourself with the whole month?" "Yeah, calculating pulse waveforms took more work than Monika's and Elias' upgrades, I readily accepted the challenge though." "You went to the trouble of making something for them too huh. Crazy." "I did yes. Monika's was no sweat. I pulled up the files on her RED Mk III and tweaked a few things. Utilising the same technology I fitted a lens-like screen to a headpiece, so the intel she needs is always in view, and her handling of weapons isn't compromised. I think she'll appreciate the purple tint I used for the lens. That, and it can also be used for her spelunking - The new and improved Spectre can see beyond solid walls several metres thick, and it can detect hollow spaces like tunnels. If she removes the chip and slots it into the drone I made for her - I'll reveal that part to her once she's back - she can apply the Spectre to airborne recon in the same way as the lens itself." "Now, you're showing off. She's going to use and abuse that thing every chance she gets." "Good. Then I won't have made it for nothing." "What about Elias, what did you give him?" "I haven't given him his yet which works out nicely." "I'm all ears, Brainiac." "Interesting moniker. Elias gets a conal radius motion & thermal detector that bolsters his ballistic shield. This will give him an increase in tactical advantage, by alerting him to whoever is in his vicinity. If there's an obstruction or he loses sight of the enemy he can find them with ease and make his move. Like Monika's, his can mimic the technology he's accustomed to and can also be detached and used with the specialised drone made for him. He'll be able to temporarily blind at range, or cause distraction, meaning if he keeps his wits about him he'll manage to play a part from long distances." Dominic spied something else in the box as Marius gave his run down on each of the devices. Brow furrowed he picks it up and examines it closely, unable to crack what purpose it served. "Hm. And this?" "That, is a personal touch. Call it whimsical but I think you'll like it. His drone is also yours." Shooting the engineer a bewildered glance Dominic held the second remote in hand, waiting expectantly to understand its significance and what exactly made it so 'whimsical'. "I had trouble coming up with a unique quality for each of you. You're both irreverent in your sense of humour, so I decided to play on that. Elias' drone also has a compartment where something, such as a flashbang for example, can be stored and dropped at command. I'll tell him about that. What I won't tell him however is that you have full access to the drone with that control you're holding. I'll leave it to your imagination to invent shenanigans of your own design. It ought to appease your prankster inclinations," Marius smiled knowingly, but only just - A sliver of the pride gathering in his center. Dominic's was blatant and devilish; Cogs turning in his mind already. But moreso this was a gift with meaning, and understanding to a level that excelled clinical intelligence. He had captured all three of them as operatives and as people, as friends, in the best way he knew how. Each gadget was far from mere machinery. Like polaroids immortalising their merits on the field and in life. "Don't expect to hear this out of me again anytime soon but you've outdone yourself." "Hah! It's worth the effort just to wring sincerity out of you, you ornery bastard." "Yeah, yeah, pot calling the kettle black. I know you're not a drinker but come on, show me how to use this thing over a pint - and bring the drone. I want to get Elias back for all his gaudy Christmas music in the dorms. I considered smothering him with his pillow, but this will suffice." He sneered, amused by his own facetiousness. "I know you don't have anything else planned so I'm not giving you much of a choice." After placing everything back in its box Dominic stood up to give his friend a gracious pat on the back. Marius noticed a glint in his eye he hadn't been privy to before - one unlike the dispassion that most would consider default to 'Bandit' - perhaps they were both seeing each other in a different light. An aspect they kept tucked away, save for rare junctures such as these. "Fine. I'll agree, considering the occasion. Might as well get into the spirit of things a little. Frohe Weihnachten, Dominic." "Frohe Weihnachten."

[echo-bleu]

Muffled Screams

@lire-casander, happy birthday!! I hope you had an amazing day. I really meant to post this early enough for you to actually see it today, but I’ve only got a minute to spare till midnight, so that’s a bust :D I still hope you like it!

This is set sometime after season 1, ignoring season 2 (domestic Malex with emotional h/c and fluff).

Michael wakes up with a start, to the sound of muffled screams. He sighs internally, forbidding himself from turning in bed to face Alex. It's the second time this night, and it's not even four yet. He stays very still until Alex's panting subsides, giving him a minute to compose himself before he yawns and stretches, finally turning.

“Hey,” he murmurs, seeing Alex's open eyes staring at him. “You're awake.”

“So are you,” Alex points out. For a moment, Michael wonders if he's betrayed himself, but Alex just runs a hand down his bare shoulder. “It's early. You should go back to sleep.”

Michael nods, slowly. He almost wants to say something, to tell Alex that he knows what woke him up, but he doesn't.

He is lost. He's been living with Alex for almost eight weeks now, and things have been going surprisingly well. He half expected to have trouble adjusting, after years of being on his own in his trailer, or that Alex would feel crowded, or that they would have the same trouble communicating that have held them back for so long, but none of that happened.

That's not to say that it has been easy. Alex maintains a strict schedule even on his days off that clashes with Michael's need to sleep in. Michael is about as far from domestic as anyone could be, and neither of them can really cook. Suddenly being squished together in the same house, after so many years apart, has been difficult in many way, and not the least because they both agreed not to allow themselves to fall into bed instead of talking about things. Which they haven't been all that successful at.

But globally, it's going great. There has been no talk of taking a step back, of Michael going back to his trailer even for a few nights, though he made it clear that he's ready to do so. He knows Alex probably wouldn't ask him to leave even if he needed him to, at least not frontally, but he hasn't been getting this kind of vibe from him at all.

There's just one bump in the road.

Michael doesn't know exactly why he keeps pushing back the moment when they'll have to address it. He wants to give Alex time, and space to deal with this, he tells himself. The first few nights, Michael freaked out when he woke up to Alex's screams, and Alex seemed more shaken by his panic than by his own nightmares. Nightmares that left him terrified and panting, and rarely let him go back to sleep.

After the third night, Alex stopped screaming and started biting his pillow. It still woke Michael up, but that's when he started to pretend to sleep, instead of making Alex feel guilty. He always meant to address it at some point, when they were both awake and in a good mental place during the day, but he never found the right moment. And now it has gone from once a night to twice or three times, and Michael can't take it anymore.

Either Alex's PTSD is somehow getting worse, or Michael's presence is keeping him from using whatever coping mechanism he needs. Michael needs to talk to him.

He just dreads the moment so much. The way Alex looked at him after waking him up those first nights, that haunted, horrified gaze, he never wants to see that on Alex's face again.

He'll talk to Alex today, he decides. It's Sunday, they have nowhere to be, and all Michael has planned is repairing the leak in the gutter behind the house. There's no rain on the forecast for at least a week, so it can wait if needed.

Michael turns around in bed and drapes an arm around Alex, casually. Alex is still rigid with tension, his skin clammy. Michael doesn't show him that he's noticed, and he yawns, closing his eyes.

*

Alex is already up when Michael wakes up again. Michael pats the bed to find his side cold, though it's only six. Alex isn't the kind to sleep in, ever. Michael found that out when he moved in.

Getting up sleepily, wearing only a pair of boxers, Michael runs a hand through his hair and walks out of the bedroom, and into Alex's office next door. Alex is sitting on a small bench in the corner he's set up for his daily physical therapy, his crutches propped up on the wall behind him.

“Morning! I was ready to go shower, but you can go first if you want,” he tells Michael, far too enthusiastically for this time of the day.

“No,” Michael yawns. “Need coffee first.”

“Let me,” Alex says, standing up and grabbing one crutch. He hops over to the kitchen, on the other side of the corridor, to fill what's become Michael's mug with coffee. Accepting it, Michael wonders how he can be so cheerful early in the morning with how badly he seems to sleep.

“Thank you,” he nods, yawning again.

He busies himself with making breakfast while Alex is in the shower. Alex comes back out a while later, with a towel around him and nothing else, to get dressed and put on his prosthesis. Michael can't help staring.

“You see something you like?” Alex asks, amused.

They've been going slow in that department, too, but not so slow that they've been chaste while sleeping in the same bed for two months.

Michael puts their plates on the kitchen table and sits down. “Yes,” he tells Alex, watching him put on clothes through the open door of their bedroom. “But you got up far too early again, so no morning sex for you.”

“We could go back to bed,” Alex offers.

“Maybe later,” Michael says. He takes a deep breath. “I, uh, I want to talk to you about something.”

He should have waited until Alex was here with him, because Alex visibly tenses in the middle of putting on socks, sitting on the bed. “What is it?” Alex asks cautiously.

“Over breakfast. Finish what you're doing first.”

But it's certainly a mood killer. Alex slips on his pants as fast a he can, and comes out of the bedroom barefoot, even though Michael knows he hates walking directly on his prosthesis.

“Tell me,” he demands, sitting down across from Michael. He doesn't even look at the food.

“You're still having nightmares,” Michael says.

Alex closes off immediately. Michael knew this conversation wouldn't be smooth, but he really hoped to avoid an all-out fight. “I'm not criticizing you or complaining,” he clarifies. “On the contrary. But I'm worried.”

Once again, it's the wrong thing to say. Alex grits his teeth looks away, staring through the window. “I'm sorry for waking you up,” he says.

“No, no, this isn't about that. I want to help, Alex. I want to wake up for you. I want to hold you and comfort you. I just want you to talk to me.”

Alex works his jaw for a moment. His eyes dart around−Michael clocks the brief stop on the fridge, where Alex has pinned up his therapist's anxiety checklist−and he takes a breath. “Okay,” he says. “But I don't think I can do it right now.” He pauses and licks his lips. “I need to think about it, and I need to be more rested so I don't get automatically defensive.”

Michael feels a rush of pride at Alex, clearly communicating his needs instead of clamming up, so strong that he nearly tears up. It's the hard work in therapy paying up. “I'll be there when you're ready,” he says.

Alex manages a small smile. “Thank you.”

*

Michael purposefully gives Alex some space all morning, by fixing the leaking gutter on his own. It's done faster than he counted on, so he goes ahead and cleans the whole gutter at well, going around the house with his ladder. He can't use his powers here, not more than a touch of them when he feels the ladder move under him, so he does everything by hand. It feels good, keeps him from worrying about the conversation to come.

It's almost lunch time when he finishes. He carefully puts his ladder and his tools away−a concession to Alex's tidiness, because Michael is more of an organized-chaos kind of person. As he goes to wash his hands in the bathroom, he expects to find Alex either at his desk or at the piano with his headphones on, but he's not there. Instead, his laptop is gone. Michael frowns and dries his hands.

The bedroom door is ajar, and sure enough, Alex is on the bed, his laptop beside him. Only he's not using it. Alex is curled up on his side, his head on his arm, like sleep came over him suddenly. His leg is in its usual spot by his nightstand, but he hasn't bothered to pin his pant leg up, so he didn't expect to stay without for long. One earbud is still in his right ear, while the other has fallen on the bed. Michael's heart melts at how adorable Alex looks in his sleep.

“'chael?” Alex asks, stirring. Of course. Michael has yet to manage to sneak up on him, whether Alex is awake or not.

“I'm here,” Michael says. “Want some lunch?”

Alex sits up and rubs at his eyes. “Um, sure. Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“You needed it,” Michael smiles. Alex yawns and nods, still looking embarrassed. “Want to cuddle for a bit before I start cooking?”

Alex tilts his head and gives him a small nod, looking strangely vulnerable. Michael kicks off his shoes−he really should have done that at the door−and lies down beside him, setting the laptop aside. Alex snuggles closer and sighs.

“I get scared of falling asleep,” he murmurs. “The nightmares, they just won't stop.”

“Do you want to tell me what's in them?” Michael asks.

“It's not always the same thing. I have plenty of trauma to fuel them. Usually explosions. Sometimes my father. Sometimes you.”

“Me?” Michael frowns. Something like dread settles in his stomach.

“Usually you dying, in Caulfield. I never get you out in time. I'd almost...I'd almost gotten rid of the nightmares, before we went there. Not completely, but they weren't as bad anymore, I knew what to do with them. I don't know if it's the explosion that triggered them, or nearly losing you, or−” he trails off, lost.

Michael closes his eyes in dismay.

“I know you have nightmares of it too,” Alex says. “You lost so much that day. I keep thinking that I made a rookie mistake, going there without proper recon, and it cost you so much.”

“Alex, it wasn't your fault!” Michael exclaims, horrified. He had no idea Alex even felt that way.

“I didn't want to burden you with my guilt,” Alex sighs, as if he hasn't even heard him. “You have enough on your shoulder, and it's selfish of me. But...in the other dreams, you decide that you've had enough of me, or you blame me for my family, or−you leave, every time. And then you die, and it's always because of me.” Alex presses his face against his pillow, a few tears escaping his eyes.

“I didn't want you to know,” he continues. “I guess my brain is just...waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I'm not worth it.”

“Alex, look at me.” Michael gently slips a hand on Alex's shoulder and squeezes. “I will never think that. Maybe we'll fight, probably, it might get rocky at times, but I will never thing you're not worth it. I didn't once, in the ten years you were gone. Why would I start now?”

“Because I think I'm not worth it?” Alex offers.

“Well you're wrong. I'm here to stay, okay? You are worth everything to me.”

Michael's hand hasn't left Alex shoulder. Alex makes a little sound, midway between a sob and a whimper, and brings their forehead together. “I love you,” he murmurs. “I want to be the person you deserve.”

“You already are. You're already far more than I deserve, Alex. All I want is you, okay. You, as you are. Not some perfect, dream version, you.”

“Okay,” Alex murmurs. “I want you, too. Just you.”

“Will you let me hold you, next time you have a nightmare?” Michael asks, pushing a little because it feels right. “Show you that I'm not going anywhere?”

Alex swallows. “I'll try,” he says. “It's not…sometimes touch doesn't feel right, when it's bad. But I'll try.”

“I don't have to touch you. Just let me be there for you.”

“Okay,” Alex whispers.

Michael runs a finger down Alex's face, slowly. He thinks about getting up to cook, but he feels exhausted. Emotional conversations take a lot out of him. So he doesn't move, cuddling with Alex like he dreamed for ten years he'd get to do one day. He's not going anywhere.

He has everything he wants right here.

[et-lesailes]

a day with dodger

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 2190

prompt: “Please do a Chris/Dodger fic. I just watched the YouTube video of “bedtime” and dodge and his lion and 😭😭😭”

themes: super wholesome fluffy goodness w chris n dodger :)

taglist: @viarogers​ , @evanstush​ , @chibi-crazy​ ,  @pining-and-tired​ , @songforhema​, @sebabestianstan101​ , @tanyam93​ , @bval-1​, @wonderwinchester​ , @little-miss-exo​, @poerebel​ , @gogomez-509​ , @patzammit​, @a-distantdreamer​, @malthestorytellerblog​, @rainbowkisses31​, @jbug491writinghelp​, @melannie77​, @gigistorm​, @lille-kattunge​, @teller258316​, @rohaintahquil​, @deidrashouseofpain​, @firstangeldragonranch​, @peach-acid​, @allsortsofinterests​, @xoxabs88xox​, @heyiamthatbitch​, @cptn-sgrogers​, @heyyouwiththeassbutt​, @bangtan-serendipity​, @troublermalik​, @beardburnsupersoldiers​, @captainscanadian​​, @rumoured-whispers​​, @lemonster120​, @puddlejoy​​, @hannie-stark​, @bookish-shristi​​, @kind-sober-fullydressed​

** if you have asked to be on my taglist and don’t see your name here, please let me know! i lost the note i had with all the urls and so everything’s been a bit messed up lately, my apologies!

notes: tbh this is one of my newer requests and while i want to finish older ones first, i had so much muse for it i couldn’t resist. thanks to @thewritingdoll​ for the graphic!

Despite it being a Wednesday, it was the first day in a while both you and your boyfriend had the day off and were in the same place. There had been much discussion on what the two of you should do to spend the day, but no matter what you settled upon, there was one condition you both agreed on.

Dodger would be coming too. He was a part of the family, how could he not?

Chris had woken up at 6 AM to take him for his morning walk before returning to bed with you, the two of you liking to sleep in whenever you didn't have work. As his strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you back to the warmth of his body once more, Dodger settled himself at the foot of the bed and snuggled close to his beloved lion, quite willing to drift off to sleep again. He liked to be close to the two of you, and he was rather compliant with whatever schedules you had planned. Such was the life of a dog with a celebrity for a dad; he had gotten adjusted to the fast paced, sporadic lifestyle quite well. 

Your eyes slowly flickered open at around 9:30, a sleepy smile crossing your lips as you gazed up at Chris' sleeping face. His arm was still around you, large hand placed on the small of your back. You barely lifted your head up to check on Dodger, who was sprawled on his side with one paw around his lion. Like father, like son. You were grateful Chris was getting the chance to sleep; you knew how tired he had been from his hectic schedule lately. You carefully slid out from under his arm, though it wouldn't have mattered if you had ruthlessly tossed it aside-- the man was practically unconscious to the world when he was tired. 

As you lightly got to your feet from the bed, Dodger was quick to get up too, hopping off as he looked up at you with what resembled a beam on his furry face. You giggled softly and leaned down to pet him all over, giving his head a kiss. "Mm come on bubba, do you need to go out?" You guided him to the backyard door, opening it for him and watching fondly as he shot out like a bullet. You left it open a crack so he could come inside whenever he wanted, heading for the kitchen to start making breakfast for you and Chris. You didn't even care much for cooking in general, but it always made you happy to be able to cook for him, simply because you barely got to. Even when the two of you could find time to eat together, more than half the time you just settled on getting takeout or eating at a restaurant because you didn't have the time to cook. 

You were finishing up the pancakes when Chris sleepily wandered out of the bedroom, approaching you from behind and wrapping his arms around your waist. "G'morning," he mumbled in his low, husky voice still shaded from slumber, and you smiled as you let yourself melt into his hold. "Hey there, babe. You sleep well?" you asked softly, turning your head to give his cheek a kiss. He lazily rested his head on your shoulder, squeezing you tight. "Mm sure did. And waking up to this wonderful smell was just as nice. You're too good to me, sweetheart." You smiled as you turned back to the stove, moving the last pancake to the plate filled with them already. You knew what Chris’ appetite was like, and the more he ate, the better. Now that he was done with Marvel, he finally did not need to be so rigid and strict with his diet, and you and his mother and “plotted” to give him all the delicious food you could. “You deserve it, babe. You’ve been working so hard. Now how do you want your eggs?”

Before he could answer, a happy Dodger came trotting in, immediately running up to Chris to greet him. The man laughed loudly as the canine began to jump on him, almost immediately leaning down to scoop him up into his arms like a baby. “Good morning, bubba! Were you running around in the yard? I hope you didn’t use up too much energy, because me, you, and mama are gonna go for a hike today.” You smiled in satisfaction, giggling softly as you turned to ruffle his fur. “When does he ever run out of energy? It’s been so long since he’s gotten that long of a walk, he’s going to be thrilled.” Chris smiled, kissing the dog’s furry head. “You’re right. But I think he’s more focused on something else now.” You blinked and looked to where Dodger was currently staring before laughing, rolling your eyes fondly as you picked up the plate of bacon. “Okay, okay bubba, let’s put some on Daddy’s plate first and then I’ll give you a piece.” 

__________________

After the three of you ate breakfast, it was time to get ready. Dodger was already ready to go, waiting by the door and whining impatiently, making the two of you chuckle. “We can’t go in our pajamas, ya goofy boy! Wait a second!” Chris playfully chided, rubbing between his ears before ushering you to the bedroom. You watched as he peeled out of his t-shirt, subconsciously letting out a sigh. He heard this and turned to you with an amused grin, wagging his finger playfully. “Nuh uh, don’t look at me like that, baby girl. We can come home and have our fun, but our son needs us and if you keep giving me that look I can’t promise I’ll behave.” You blinked and laughed, coming over to smack his bicep. “I’m not feral, for God’s sake, I’m just appreciating my boyfriend’s body! There’s nothing wrong with that.” You smirked at him before standing on your tiptoes to give him a peck on the lips, then went to the dresser to take out the clothes you planned on changing into. “You gonna wear that sexy little sports bra I love so much?” he asked with a hopeful smile, and you giggled softly, taking it out. “Hm? Is that what you call behaving?”

“Yes. Misbehaving would be insisting you go without a bra on at all.” He pointed out with a cheeky smirk, and you wrinkled your nose at the thought, though couldn’t help but giggle again. “Okay, okay, get dressed. I can hear Dodger practically going into depression out there.” You changed into aforementioned sports bra, a loose workout tank top, and your favorite pair of Nike shorts. Looking over at him, you almost wanted to let out another pleased sigh. All he was wearing was a tight tee, workout pants, and a Red Sox baseball cap, but damn he looked good, especially with his bulging muscles. “You forgot this, sweetheart,” he commented, taking the matching cap he had bought for you and placing it on your head. While his was black with a red B, yours was black with a pink one. You smiled and adjusted it before humming thoughtfully. “We should probably pack a backpack, yeah? Water for all three of us, snacks, and some treats for him.” He followed you with his arms wrapped around you, taking his steps outside your own with a goofy smile. “You’re such a good mama. I can’t wait to have a baby with you.” He mumbled into your neck and you chuckled softly, murmuring playfully in response, “Now how about you propose to me first and then we’ll talk about it?”

He laughed as he pulled back to get Dodger’s leash and harness. “Oh, it’s happening, baby doll, but you can’t rush me. I need it to be absolutely perfect. And as of right now, that’s all you’re going to hear about it. Can’t ruin the surprise.” You smiled, shaking your head to yourself as you gathered water bottles, a portable water bowl for Dodger, his bag of treats, and a few granola bars into a backpack. “Well, you better hurry before I change my mind,” you teased, and he scoffed in response as he managed to put the harness on the dog’s squirming, wiggling body. “You’re stuck with me for life, babe, you know that by now.”

_____________________________

You sighed in pure bliss as you sat upon the grassy peak of land, staring out at the small waterfall pouring out into a river underneath. The two of you had found an isolated spot along the way to sit and relax, and Dodger seemed to love it too as he rolled around in the grass and basked in the sunlight beaming down. Chris leaned back as he adjusted his cap, smiling in satisfaction. “I wish we could do this more often, baby,” he murmured, looking towards you, and you nodded your head with a wistful sigh. “Me too. It’s so beautiful here, I feel like we never get to go outside anymore.” He nodded as he moved to wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer to him and resting his head on top of yours. “I know. Maybe it’s time I take a step back.” You blinked, glancing up at him. “What? From acting? Babe, you don’t need to do that. You love acting.” He sighed and kissed your head mumbling, “But I also love you. And our little bubba over here.” He playfully reached over to grab the dog and roll him over to his side, rubbing his belly roughly. “I want to be able to see you guys more often.”

You smiled, appreciating his sentiment, but hummed softly as you took his hands in yours and squeezed them lightly. “Chris, as great as that would be, I know you. You’d go crazy if you didn’t have a script in your hand, a role lined up-- a camera to be in front of.” You chuckled softly, lazily bringing his fingers up to your mouth to kiss them gently. “It’s your passion. And that’s not a bad thing. We still make our relationship work anyways, and me and Dodger appreciate the time you already do put in for us. If you want to take a break, that’s okay, but nothing permanent. I won’t let you, got it?”

He smiled as he listened to you, suddenly hugging you tighter to him. “I love you so much, Y/N. You know that?” You smiled as you nuzzled into him, tilting your head up to kiss at his bearded chin. “I love you too Chris.”

____________________________

Bedtime was one of your favorite times of the day when Chris was home. Or, to be exact, getting ready for bed. After catching a nice, hot shower together and brushing your teeth while making funny faces in the mirror with the black charcoal toothpaste you had recently brought smeared all over your lips and teeth, it was now time to let Dodger know it was time for bed. “Hey bubba! C’mon, bubba, time to sleep. Go get your lion.” Chris leaned down to playfully pat the canine’s bum and you giggled as you watched the dog scamper towards the living room, picking up his cherished lion in his mouth. He trotted back to the bedroom happily, jumping up onto the bed and making himself comfortable. 

The two of you were now snuggled in bed in pajamas with Netflix on TV, Dodger curled up in between both of you practically passed out. Of course, though, if one of you were to get up to even simply use the bathroom or get water, he’d immediately be up on his feet again, wagging his tail making sure that nobody was playing or doing anything fun without him. You smiled fondly as you stroked his fur lovingly; Chris had made an excellent choice when he had picked him at the shelter, and you were sure you would both be adopting even more dogs down the road once both of you had more time. 

You were in a state of comfortable silence; one thing you loved about Chris was that while the two of you loved to talk and actually do things, you could also simply relax. There was never any pressure to keep conversation going or to keep each other entertained. You found pleasure in each other’s mere presence, and this was why you were convinced you could spend the rest of your life with this man.

You glanced over to him after about fifteen minutes, sensing he had been quite still. As you suspected, his head was slightly tilted, his eyes closed as he breathed evenly in his slumber. You giggled softly, carefully leaning over to turn off the lamp before settling down in bed, gently guiding his body down as well. He barely grunted and shifted, but soon naturally turned to wrap his strong arms around you, Dodger included. You smiled and pressed a soft kiss to each of their heads before resting your head on the pillow, soon to slip off into dreamland yourself.