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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

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a/n: this piece is a lil gift for by lovely friend arina ♡ (ฉันรักคุณ & ich liebe dich!!) ♡ as well as my first submission for svtredroom!! happy valentines day to you all hehe and i hope ya remember that i love you too so! much!

~in which getting stood up on Valentines Day goes a bit more differently than you expected

Like the Movies

Pairing: self insert, female reader x jeon wonwoo

Genre: fluffy smut

Tags: valentines day au, meet cute au, mentions of food and alcohol, sexual tension, hook-up, businessman!wonwoo, wonwoo being expensive eeee, softdom!wonwoo, sub!reader, kitchen sex, oral (f receiving), bondage, unprotected sex (stay safe!!), cockwarming hehe

Word count: 2.9k

Tagging: @hongnanglen-arina @svtredroom

He had been sitting there for at least forty-five minutes--or longer--you didn’t quite know, seeing as you had only been there for forty-five minutes yourself. In the time that you had spent waiting, watching him had become a bit of your routine; he wasn’t watching, so it wasn’t like you had been disturbing anyone.

You couldn’t imagine why someone like him would be sitting alone on a night like this.

Someone must’ve been a fool to think that they could leave him at that table by himself, for at least forty-five minutes, to read over the menu for the tenth time like you had watched him do.

Granted, you had also been sitting there for at least forty-five minutes.

Perhaps the world was much crueler than you had expected...especially on this holiday supposedly all about love and connection.

He had perfect posture: the kind that made you assume he must’ve been a businessman or someone else important who had to train themselves to keep a strong composure. The suit that he wore was plain, although it looked as if it had undoubtedly cost him a small fortune. Every corner and pleat of the fabric had been pressed professionally and not a speck of dust or dander seemed to cling to it. His raven black hair too looked effortlessly tussled with the stray strand here and there that must have been planned. Those slender fingers of his pushed up his wire framed glasses now and then. Under the dim lighting of the restaurant, his eyes of a dark brown reflected a color of dark obsidian: both cold and testing.

To his side, he had a tall glass of wine that he had barely touched: you thought to yourself maybe he just liked how it looked here; like he really was just waiting, and not sitting alone.

“Have you decided if you would like to order while you wait miss?”

Your waiter with a wispy beard leaned in to speak to you over the noise of the room.

“Ah-no. Not yet. I think I want to wait a little longer. I think that they should be here soon.”

“Of course,” He bowed.

Across the room, his waiter approached him as well, likely whispering the same question. He nodded, and shooed him with the wave of his hand. Lithe fingers toyed with the stem of his glass, he he rose his head.

In your surprise, he had turned his head over to your direction of the room, and you suddenly became much more interested in the small assortment of white and cream colored roses on your table. You could feel his gaze, but you couldn’t bring up the bravery to meet it.

Under the table, your watch ticked tiny and nearly silent ticks as you waited for the minutes to pass by even farther.

How long is it acceptable to wait until you accept that they’re never coming?

In many ways, you felt pathetic and crinkled like the browning edges of those very flowers in the glass vase before you. Who in their right mind would stand someone up on Valentines Day? Out of all days of the year?

You thought to yourself that it must’ve taken some kind of evil and unfeeling person to do so...and you were the fool to think that you would’ve thought they would have showed up. For a moment, you had thought that perhaps it would be better if you left, marched right out of that door into the winter cold, gotten a taxi to the grocery store to buy discounted valentines day candy and cherry cola, then ate it all until you gave yourself a headache. As the night drew longer, that didn’t seem like the worst idea.

“Ma’am? I’m sorry, but we ask that if you are going to sit that you order an item...we have a waiting list still and we would prefer if you got your money’s worth.”

You could see the remorse in your waiters eyes. Even he felt bad for you.

Your eyes drifted to the lobster bisque that you had assumed you would have ordered had they showed up.

Discount candy? Or lobster bisque?

“--One order of the Burrata please.”

He had slipped into the chair across with you as swift as a shadow, and you hadn’t even seen him coming. From this close, he was even more breathtaking. His broad shoulders seemed to take up the whole space of the seat before you, and his creeping smile held a type of mystery that was intriguing and terrifying.

The waiter himself looked a bit surprised. “One...order of the Burrata then.”

The man sighed, then took off his glasses with finesse.

“It looks like you and I are in the same predicament.” His tone was deep, but still gentle. “I don’t think its fair to be alone on a night like tonight. I hope you don’t mind that I invited myself over.”

“N-no. Not at all.” Your throat felt dry.

Rather than respond, he smiled out in a grin that made you instantly enthralled. Even though you didn’t know him much, you knew him to be the kind of man that could wrap you around his little finger. Had it been any other day of the year, you wouldn’t have given him the time of day, but, today wasn’t any other day of the year.

“I assume you already know what you’d like to order?”

“Mm. Yes. I think I’ve looked over the menu just as many times as you have.”

He folded his arms over his chest with a little chuckle.

“I’m Jeon Wonwoo. And you are?”

“Y/n.”

“Seems like it there’s a reason that we’re both here at the same time, and...by ourselves.”

“Not...anymore.” You took a sip of your own wine with heart racing.

“You’re right.” He rose his own glass into the air which he had taken from his table. “To being alone...together.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Your heeled shoes fell to the hardwood floors of his apartment with a clack. His whole home seemed to be swelling with the same energy that he held about himself. It was simple, minimal, no room for anything that looked sentimental or unbecoming for someone as proper as him. The layout was mostly open with each of the rooms connecting to the other. Every item in the apartment seemed to be either gunmetal grey, or black. His kitchen was large for a relatively small apartment, and had a centerpiece of a large black marble island.

“Espresso?” He offered as he pulled at his shirt collar and tie.

“Sure.”

You wondered about you, tracing your fingertips over the leather couches and spotless upholstery of his dining table chairs. The far wall of the apartment was made of floor to ceiling windows that gave a magnificent view of the city in all it’s nighttime spectral glow. Millions of lights made up the cityscape and twinkled like faraway stars from the height of his 17th floor home. From here, you could take in the whole city fully and it filled you with an unknown sense of tranquility.

Behind you his stainless steel espresso maker made a little humming sounds, and then the air was filled with the nutty aroma of the coffee. You walked over, feeling the cold touch of the wood under your pantyhose. He placed the small cup on a saucer and presented it to you. The smell filled up your senses and it was perfectly foamy on the top. From the quality of the brew, you assumed this must’ve been his hobby.

The both of you drank your shots in silence, and you waited to feel the caffeine rush though your body.

You placed the cup down, “Thank you.”

He chuckled a little, then rose his finger to wipe a bit of the foam from the corner of your mouth. Instinctually you licked your lips after with the ghostly touch of him lingering there. He licked the remnants off his finger. All at once, you felt yourself grow weaker under the weight of his obsidian eyes. A tension too held in the air as he leaned his body lower and lower...

He tasted like coffee, much as you had expected yourself to taste as well. It was startling, but he was still gentle in the way that he had pulled your frame into his body with fingers splayed across your back. On your teetering tip-toes, you struggled to keep your balance returning the heat of his mouth. He had been smiling devilishly too as his hands explored your whole body: from the curves of your hips and your shoulder blades, all the way down to your ass which he grabbed at in handfuls. It was no mystery that he had hardened against your stomach and the feeling made you keen even further in his arms.

A deep groan vibrated his chest when your own hands explored the width of his back and clawed lightly at the fabric of his suit jacket hiding the rippling muscles underneath. He told you to continue by kissing a trail down the side of your cheek to your jaw, then to your neck where he sucked and kissed wet little reminders of adoration into the skin. Slowly, your hands snuck under the jacket and to his crinkling shirt.

In one motion, he lifted you by the back of your thighs to the stone counter which felt startlingly cold under your nearly bare legs. Here, you were allowed a better angle to throw your arms over his shoulders and push off the thick fabric that kept you at bay. You granted yourself one little peek between the kisses to take up the way that his arm muscles flexed the white cotton. He did the same with hasty fingers going to untie the thin bow that held up your blouse. His fingers tickled you as he tore the shirt up and off your head to throw it somewhere you had no idea where. After, he set to work unclasping your bra with ease, and the same needy hands cupped at your breasts firmly, tweaking your buds in-between his index and middle. Further, he traversed down your chest to suck harshly at your hardened nipples, not even caring when his teeth had grazed them slightly.

Your arousal had become painfully obvious in your underwear constricted by your tights. You couldn’t help but squirm feeling yourself getting wetter by the second. His teasing gaze never left you while he looked up at you with your perky nipples on his tongue. Shameless moans and breathy gasps from you filled the wide and open apartment, and got lost in the empty corners of the room.

You felt dizzy and breathless once he had decided to stop and opted to tear his tie off his neck.

“Can I tie your hands with this? Please?” He kissed the words into your neck and nibbled them into your ear.

You let out a little whimper saying “yes” and offered your wrists to him.

You would have never imagined it, but the blue silk looked even more lovely than you would’ve guessed. His eyes darkened too seeing how helpless you had become like this. It as as if he couldn’t help himself: he held your tied hands up to his lips where he kissed at your fingers and palms, giving them gifts of his pleasure to them.

He lowered you back to lay flat on the marble counter and the cold sensation made your whole body shiver wonderfully.

“Just relax.” He cooed while kissing down your stomach and fiddling with the zipper of your skirt.

The heat of your core had become unbearable waiting for him, and each of his teasing touches against your inner thighs and on your sides sent you spinning for more.

You were colder without your clothes, but soon he had granted you the rub of his thumb on your clit over your panties and a mischievous smile spread across his lips.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” He said, pulling your thin panties to the side to take a peek. He granted one more finger to rub over you directly and mix with your slick.

“Mm-fuck.” Your hips twisted with each of his touches and your hands writhed in the knot of his tie.

Wickedly slow, he removed your panties from your legs, then stopped to let his hot breath swirl over your twitching clit.

“Such a good girl.” He permitted you one kiss which elicited pathetic and needy moans from your mouth.

Wonwoo began his tantalizing lapping: thick and slow stripes with his wetted mouth that made you tremble. It was criminal how wet he had made you, and it was obscene how each of his kisses sounded against your clit. His cat-like eyes tested you further as if to say watch what a beautiful mess I make of you.

The mixture of cold stone on your back and the heat of your waist was terribly confusing, but you couldn’t help but get lost in it.

“Don’t you look so pretty like this?”

Your voice wavered and you lost yourself further in him while he continued. Your hands did feel trapped--you wanted nothing more to mess up that hair of his, and make it all yours to take in sinfully...but he didn’t grant you that pleasure.

It didn’t take him long to build up your orgasm, and each flick over your bud, he drew you closer and closer into melting into a shaking mess over his mouth. He built you up until you were painfully sensitive, then smiled with his gorgeously white smile when you came on his tongue, even grinding slightly to ride your release which he reveled in.

“Did you like that sweetheart?”

Airy chuckles shook your chest and you tried your best to calm your trembling body.

“Y-yes.”

“Here, sit up.”

Wonwoo grabbed you by your arms to help you up, and admittedly, you felt a bit dizzy yourself.

“Grab on.”

He prompted you to wrap yourself around him, which you were a bit hesitant of, but his now warm smile assured you that all would be well.

“Don’t worry.” He simply soothed.

You did so, even getting a little embarrassed over your arousal that must’ve been rubbing off on his clothes.

He walked the two of you over to his velvety looking couch, having you sit on his lap. Even after this while, he was still as hard as before. He returned his mouth to paint kisses into yours once more, filling your mouth with adoring comments in between each one.

“I can’t believe that you’re all mine tonight.”

His hands returned to your breasts to kneed over them more carefully this time.

“Would you like to ride my dick princess?”

It had been absentminded, but you had been grinding into his lap and against his swelling dick.

“Y-yes. Please. I-I want to.”

Wonwoo carefully helped you off his lap to remove himself of his own pants, then guided your hips over his hardened length which was much longer and girthier than it had appeared to be hidden under his pants.

“Take it as slow or as fast as you want, okay? We have all night.”

Once more his smiling kisses peppered your mouth, then you lowered yourself over him, and it was near euphoric how tightly you took him in. It was effortless in the way that the tip of his head would graze your cervix just like this. Both of you groaned out your symphony of pleasure.

“Oh fuck--” His eyes rolled. “You’re unreal.”

Wonwoo’s fingers dug deeply into your lower back, guiding the return of your hips over his length all the while giving love bites to the soft nape of your neck. Connected with him like this, the stranger that you barely knew, you felt a sense of closeness unlike anything you had felt before. He must have put a spell on you from the way each one of his kisses and the pull of your lip by his teeth made you fall deeper into him.

Your thighs straddled him harder in all of your want: you wanted to make him one with you, to have him all to yourself even though you knew he wasn’t yours to keep. The way that his faint grunts wavered in your ears was too much for you to handle. You weren’t alone. On the night that you thought you hadn’t been wanted, he made you feel as if you were the only one there was.

He hushed into you, “Cum for me, beautiful.”

Your hands now untied, you raked them though his hair just as you had wanted, chasing your orgasm roughly while you made a mess of him just as he did for you. It tightened in your core, and you used every last shred of your energy to maintain your speed over him. It was exhausting, and your legs shook the closer you got.

It flushed over your whole body, and dripped down your legs: it was electricity through each of your extremities, and then it was heat, warm as the sun that ran from the tips of your ears to your neck still throbbing from his lips pulling there, hard, as he reached his own orgasm that was left throbbing inside your walls.

A wave of exhaustion swept over you while you clung to him and he to you. He really was unimaginably handsome this close. The side of his hand caressed down the side of your dewy face.

“Would you like to be alone together...more?”

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sidespart · 4 years ago

Note

For the fic title thing: Make Up Your Mind/Catch Me I’m Falling

Make Up Your Mind (this seriously got away from me and became basically a whole string of conscious fic whoops)

Logince, Bakery/coffeeshop AU Mutual Pining/ Not-Actually-Unrequited love, + loceit friendship

So Janus owns a Bakery (struggling to think of a snake/lie based bread pun for the name but ehh). He is the head only baker and sends most of his time in the basement kitchen blasting the phantom of the opera soundtrack and kneading dough.

Logan is his childhood friend. Janus hired him as cashier after Logan dropped out of collage but then he never left and is now basically manager/ accountant/ hbic of this whole operation.

So one night as Janus is leaving he’s casually like: ‘oh by the way, a couple are coming by tomorrow for a wedding cake consultation’

And Logan blocks the door and is like: ‘Janus. We don’t do wedding cakes. We don’t even do cake. You only make weird artisanal bread. it took me 6 months and 8 powerpoint presentations to convince you to sell banana loaf’

Jan, his eye enormous: ‘but Logan, you should have heard this guy on the phone. They only want to use LGBTQ businesses for their wedding, they want to support the community that’s supported them for so long. He spoke so passionately and eloquently about why it just had to be us I couldn't say no’

Logan, his eyes not enormous: did you tell this man we make wedding cakes just to make the phone conversation end?

Janus: I was going to miss the murder, she wrote marathon, Logan

So Jan manages to escape, and Logan rolls his eyes but like. This is nowhere near the worst ‘cleaning up after Janus lied to get out of a situation and made everything more complicated for no goddamm reason’ incident that he has had to deal with during the course of their friendship so, whatever: he can tell the couple there was a miscommunication when they show up in the morning.

Next day, the guys arrive. Virgil, who barley introduces himself and then stays hunched in his hoodie not speaking for the whole meeting, and Roman.

Roman does not have a problem speaking. Roman has lots of ideas.

Roman has a binder.

Somehow in the course of this conversation Logan goes from ‘we don’t make wedding cakes’ to ‘I’LL SHOW YOU, WE’LL MAKE THE BEST GODDAMM WEDDING CAKE THIS TOWN HAS EVER SEEN’

Maybe it was the passion of Romans argument. Maybe it was the slightly disdainful look on his face when he looked round the shop. Maybe it was the ridiculous amount of money he was prepared to pay (see: Janus insists on only making specific, weird bread as to why the shop’s always on the brink of collapse). Maybe it was the power of the binder (Logan is like 80% sure Roman hit him with the binder at one point). Maybe its just Logan hasn't had a full blown passionate argument like that since high school debate club and the rush of adrenaline made him dumb.

Whatever the reason - they’re now fully committed to making this 6 tier, purple and blue, Disney inspired, multiflavoured wedding cake

(Janus, who skipped out on the meeting because he is Like That: But Logan....we don’t make wedding cakes...this was really irresponsible of you...

Logan: I know where you sleep. I could kill you at any time)

Which would be doable (the weddings a while off, and Logan is ready to RESEARCH) except Roman keeps. Coming. Back.

With new ideas. And tweaks. And suggestions. All of them seemingly designed to make the cake less structurally sound.

Basically every time he comes in they end up having a blazing row, first about Romans inability to make up his mind about the cake and then about...literally everything. One time they spent 25 minuets arguing about whether or not Shakespeare wrote all of his plays, which somehow turns into ‘who was the best host of blues clues?’ which then turned into ‘how would nationalised healthcare best be implemented?’ (the loudest arguments were during the blues clues section).Logan had even fewer customers then normal that day.

(Logan: I hate that guy so much! He shows up at 2pm every day and now my blood pressure has started going up at 1.55pm in anticipation of the fight! He’s causing me actual medical distress because he’s so stupid!

Janus:...you’ve memorised some guys schedule and your heart starts racing whenever you see him?

Logan: yes! because he is my enemy!

Janus:...

Janus: mmKay.)

ANYway, one day Roman turns up and is like: Can’t fight today. Need caffeine. Must Study. and sequesters himself on one of their two rinky dink tables and starts pulling enormous textbooks out of his bag. Turns out Roman is in law school, he’s back home for the whole summer to help with wedding prep and has been neglecting his summer reading. He wants to be an environmental lawyer and, ideally, singly handily prosecute every oil company and give a speech at the UN whilst wearing an immaculately fitted Italian suit.

Logan has a panicked moment of OH NO HE’S SMART (he doesn't need an oh no he’s hot moment because Roman’s been hot the whole time). Very carefully he does not think about how upset hearing Roman mention the wedding again made him feel, and then shares a bit about his own anxiety during college which led to him dropping out.

Roman says degree or no degree its obvious Logan is one of the smartest, most capable people Romans ever met.

Cue: blushing, stammering, Logan standing up to quickly and knocking half a pot of coffee over etc etc all that good fluff.

And after that their conversations are less confrontational (although they still debate like. everything.) and more friendly.

They have one (1) more conversation about the wedding wherein Roman apologises for being so stressed and snappy over all the preparation stuff but he just wants everything to be perfect for Virgil. (Logan, awkwardly: you must love him a lot. Roman, himbo-ly: Yeah!) aaand then Logan changes the subject to the best rhyming structure because Romans big sappy grin is making his heart do awful twisty things-

And eventually, Roman asks Logan to go out with him outside the bakery.

Logan: hahaha this is friendship, we are great friends, we are going out as friends. I am not going on a date with a man with a fiancé because that would be the actions of a crazy person.

So they go on their date. It’s amazing. Roman leans in for a kiss at the end and Logan is delighted!

And then devastated.

He pushes Roman away, yells some creative insult (malodorous centurion?) and flees. Spends the next week basically hiding in the kitchen area, refusing to see any customers and working on the wedding cake.

(which is looking perfect by the way)

So after a week of Logan moping round the kitchen Janus finally blocks the door to stop him leaving and demand he tells him what the hell is wrong. And after a few minuets of filibustering Logan ends up telling him everything.

“In any case, the very fact that he is the kind of man who would cheat on his fiancé means he’s not the kind of man I thought he was. Therefore any alleged feelings I may have developed towards him would now be null and void” says Logan, looking like the worlds sadist accountant

Janus: So...wait. You’re saying wedding cake guy and hot lawyer guy are the same person?

(Logan: you need to come out of the basement more often Janus: YOU need to tell me what’s going on in your life more often. (they have had this conversation many times in the past))

So Janus sincerely tells Logan he’s sorry...and that he’s even more sorry that he needs him to help him deliver the cake to the venue tomorrow.

(this thing is way to big for one person to carry and there’s no way Jan would trust any of their occasional teenage cover staff to do this and ‘we’ll go round the back and you wont have to see anyone anyway comon Lo’ you basically built this monstrosity you should see it home)

So, reluctantly, Logan goes. And they go round the back as promised, and get this enormous cake settled, and then get told to wait there one sec cus one of the grooms is going to come sign for it and before Logan can throw himself out of the widow (get OFF me Janus we’re on the ground floor it’s FINE) from behind them they hear squeeing.

There’s a curly haired dude in a pastel blue linen suit who Logan has never seen before in his life looking at the cake and cooing over ‘all the little details! its perfect! oh Virgil is going to love this! You know he was so embarrassed about asking for a Disney themed cake he had to ask Roman to go with him to -”

“Who ARE you?”

The man blinked at Logan, who realised dimly that he still had one foot up on the windowsill and slowly returned it to the floor.

“I’m Patton” said Patton.

“And I’m Janus” said Janus, removing his arms from where they’d still been clamped around Logan’s waist and stepping smoothly towards Patton, clipboard held aloft “A pleasure to meet you, if you could just sign here...”

“BUT-” Patton paused, hand still raised to accept the clipboard, and looked over again at Logan who found himself mumbling: “but - but the groom is supposed to sign for it?”

And Patton just smiled at him looking a bit bemused and goes ‘I am the groom? And who are you kiddo?”

Logan says he’s Logan. Patton suddenly looks a whole lot less friendly.

“Oh.” says Patton. “You.”

And since Logan’s mind is currently refusing to take in the information in front of him Janus is the one who ends up stepping in between them and going “so just for 100% transparency - you are Patton.

“yes?”

“and today you are marrying the love of your life: Virgil?”

“Yes!”

“And are either of you, at any point today, also planning on marrying one Roman Sanders, caffeine addict and terrible communicator?”

And Paton burst out laughing and says “ROMAN? Virgil’s big brother Roman? He’s my best man but I don’t think we’re planning to take it any further...”. And because Patton is apparently much quicker on the emotional uptake than Logan he gives him a vey soft, if slightly exasperated, look and says:

“Roman - who again, is my future brother-in-law- is helping set up in the main hall.”

And Logan likes to think he said thank you before he took off fucking RUNNING through the building but he can’t be sure.

So he gets to the hall, where a load of people are setting out chairs, putting up flowers etc, and skids to a stop at one end of the aisle. Shouts: “ROMAN.” (Roman and Virgil, who were standing at the other end arguing over a flower arrangements, both look up) “YOU’RE NOT MARRYING YOUR BROTHER.”

“um.” Says Roman “No?”

Explanations are given. Virgil, who is a lot more talkative now that he’s not on 7th wedding appointment of the day burn out, is ready to physically fight Logan for breaking his brothers heart. And then once he understands the full story is ready to kill both of them for being such dumbasses.

Roman: But I s2g I told the guy on the phone that it was the groom and best man coming??? Logan: Yeah he might have lied and said you were a couple for a joke, or he may have just straight up not listened to you. Either way, he is just Like That.

Logan: WHY DID YOU NEVER MENTION VIRGIL WAS YOUR BORTHER?? Roman: I WAS TRYING TO GET TO KNOW YOU AND ALSO SEDUCE YOU WHY WOULD I WASTE TIME TALKING ABOUT MY LITTLE BROTHER??? Virgil: Yeah...he does like talking about himself, sorry he’s just Like That.

Anyway it all ends fluffily, Patton and Virgil get married. Roman cries. Logan and Jan hang around for the wedding. Roman and Logan hold hands throughout the speeches and dance during the reception. Roman has to go back to law school soon but they agree to call each other every day at 2pm to catch up and argue.

Janus gets off with the moustachioed DJ.

And Roman and Logan get another chance at their first kiss.

#sanders sides fic #logince #roman sanders #logan sanders #Loceit #Platonic Loceit #janus sanders #SANDERs sides #YEAH THIS ONE ALSO GO AWAY FROM ME #i might write some of these scenes up properly or draw them out #this was fun #fake fic meme #sidespart writes #Anonymous

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compassofsouls · 1 year ago

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Mobius is grateful that Loki mentions his situation so quickly: the man had been of half a mind to crack a joke and tweak that jacket of Loki’s. He masks disappointment and concern, consoling himself with the reality that, regardless, Loki’s in one piece – and as long as that’s true, there’s a chance that things can change. Still, a hug would have been nice: something to really make this feel solid. Real. Heck, he’s still struggling to come to terms with the scene which had been playing before him for the last hour.

For lack of anything better for them to do, he shoves hands into his coat pockets and rocks back on his heels. Pie sounds good (when doesn’t it?) and it’s not like he has anywhere else to be. Perhaps stepping away from this self-inflicted melancholy would do him good. Besides, he’s certain he’ll need some sugar and caffeine to fully process all of this. “Know what? Sure. C’mon – I’ll find a place”

He knows himself well enough that he’ll have chosen a home in a well-equipped suburb and sure enough it’s hardly far to the nearest diner. An inconspicuous check of his wallet proves reassuring (TVA training had at least equipped him for the event of being stranded), and he orders two coffees to go with the pie. Setting the second mug down opposite, and with every intention to drink it straight after he’s done with his own, he settles back to regard Loki curiously. Now that the initial excitement has settled, he’s keen for details – something, anything, he might be able to use to help. “Okay, so. Let’s get complicated.”

In the scheme of things, Loki has weighed up whether he thinks it’s fair to show up like this. After such a grand bow out, a sacrifice so that those he loves can finally make their own way, is it right not to give Mobius time to process? At the time, it wasn’t as if he expected he would be able to come back; if what he has attempted so far would work. He’s not here, not physically, but he surmised there was no reason he shouldn’t be able to use his duplication casting on a branch. It seemed logical – in the fictional sense – and, apparently, it works. Perhaps what wouldn’t be fair would be to know that you could visit and never do so. Sylvie needs her space, but does Mobius, truly? Better to ask. He can give Mobius all the time or space he wants. Here he stands, his clothes transformed into a kintsugi-styled jacket over a regular black suit. His horns are modest, barely Sylvie’s size.

There’s a soft smile on the god’s – God’s – lips when Mobius inadvertently echoes words from O.B.’s garage. He feels like he should cry, but either he’s done so much crying the ducts don’t want to work for a while or this new status of his makes emotion that much harder. He suspects the former. His heart aches being in Mobius’ presence again after everything and it burns not to be able to reach out and touch him. It’s so strange to have come full circle, to prove right what he has always tried to preach, only after walking among them and learning hard lessons of his own.

Loki turns his face toward him at last. “I told you I was ten steps ahead,” he jokes with a shrug. His lips quickly purse and he shakes his head. “I’m casting here. I’m still... out there. It’s complicated to explain. How about some pie? For you, anyway. I’m used to playing pretend.”

#benevolentgodloki #C: Mobius

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jacksgreysays · 3 years ago

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Fake Fic Summaries 29/?, the Undercover Gender Feels edition (2021-11-19)

Imperfect, Impermanent

Deku goes undercover, investigates corruption in the government, goes to a party, gets introduced to himself, accidentally falls in love with the man he’s always subconsciously loved since he first understood the concept of love, and actively reconsiders his gender identity. Yes, in that order.

So of course, Bakugou has to make things more complicated.

A/N: Again, still, I have not watched BnHA and I do not know why I consume the fanfic regardless, but I do, and I am still as ever conflicted about my feelings for BakuDeku, but here’s a dream I had and it was so clear that I couldn’t help but type it out:

It starts with Deku undercover because he can reliably fake an entirely different quirk than the one he has on file and that’s the hardest part of going undercover, tbh. His appearance can be tweaked with makeup and he is known to be, by the public, a cis man.

I’m going to warn now for gender dysphoria/questioning and, due to that, incorrect/inconsistent pronoun usage because going into this fic, Deku internally thinks he is a cis man going undercover as a trans woman and so since its POV Deku, we will use he/him. However, in theory if I were to actually write this, Deku would feel satisfied/pleased whenever referred by she/her while undercover. Internally presumed because that means a successful undercover; externally we know it’s because Deku’s having gender feels.

Anyway, Deku goes undercover. I think Shinsou was his contact/handler and there was a larger team/department that Shinsou worked with including Monoma and Camie although they didn’t know Deku’s real identity.

The mission was to investigate a leak/embezzling/corruption within Japanese government’s Emergency Management and Response Department, ie the people who are supposed to help with relieving and rebuilding post natural disasters or, in the world of BnHA, large scale quirk related destruction. As such, Deku goes undercover in that department.

And guess whose quirk frequently causes large scale destruction? :D

Anyway, Bakugou meets Deku’s undercover identity. As far as he knows, there’s this one woman who fascinates him who doesn’t put up with his shit even if she is very polite about it, and we already know Deku’s weird admiration/infatuation despite their fraught history. So imagine that admiration/infatuation unencumbered and able to have a fresh start. Sometimes they get coffee because both of their jobs are very important and require caffeine and maybe this has become a weekly tradition of sorts.

The fic that I probably won’t write, would begin several months into this status quo. More specifically, DynaMight’s having a birthday celebration and as #1 Hero of Japan its pretty big and fancy but seeing as how most of his friends/classmates are also big name heroes themselves its mostly just Class 1-A and company partying in fancy clothes. Given the premise, obviously Bakugou invites Deku’s undercover identity. Also obviously Deku as himself is invited and expected to come.

Thankfully, Shinsou is also there. Also also thankfully Camie is there, although we’ll get to that in a second.

Because Deku was invited personally by Bakugou as the undercover identity, that’s the one he prioritizes and he assumes that, since “real Deku” hasn’t spoken/interacted much with Bakugou after graduation that it won’t be noticed if “real Deku” doesn’t show up.

OBVIOUSLY THAT’S NOT THE CASE BECAUSE I LOVE IDENTITY FIC

The dream was very in Deku’s POV, it began with Bakugou and Deku (undercover identity) talking right before entering the party in which Bakugou, in his way, says that he wants to introduce undercover Deku to some people—Deku thinks this is like… probably not fully professional reasons, but as a friend? People are possibly inferring more considering how (relatively) courteous Bakugou is being and the fact that he’s going out of his way to introduce this person to them to begin with.

Deku, who has been in Bakugou’s orbit since he could form conscious memories doesn’t fully understand how unique this situation is. His context, to put it lightly, is skewed.

Anyway, this continues. At some point they do split up enough for Shinsou and Deku to talk (and thus establish within the fic that Shinsou is Deku’s undercover contact/handler) but then here’s the dramatic problem:

Bakugou is looking for Deku. As in “real Deku” but so far none of Class 1-A has seen him. Obviously.

Then for some reason in the dream, Bakugou called Deku on his “real Deku” cell phone in order to yell at him for not being at the party. But then overheard sounds of the party and went like, wtf are you here already and not showing your face, and Deku’s just like… hahaha… I’m… networking?

So Bakugou’s just like. Hey come see me before you fuck off like usual.

So, ok, that’s easy—Deku’s undercover look was designed to be simple enough to change between (not immediate, but less than ten minutes for sure)—so he’ll just show up as “real Deku” for a bit, show his face to Bakugou, and then change back to the undercover Deku identity.

So that’s what Deku does. He does a quick change, says hi to his classmates as “real Deku,” laughs off Bakugou’s irritated yelling, greets him happy birthday and is ready to disappear enough to change back.

Except then Bakugou’s like: I want to introduce you to someone. And tries to find undercover Deku.

And Deku is in trouble.

Thankfully Shinsou is there and so is Camie (and also Uraraka, which was important in the dream, although if I were to write this I would probably streamline it to just be Camie? Although maybe not? Let’s include Uraraka.) Unfortunately, only Shinsou knows Deku’s true identity.

Basically, Deku as “real Deku” is like oh—let me also look for her—makes alarmed faces at Shinsou who fixes it by recruiting Camie and Uraraka. I am unsure of the reasoning, maybe its the timing or the lack of physicality of Camie’s glamours (Bakugou has been… physically present with undercover Deku, you know, a guiding hand at the waist—it’s very crowded, Deku thinks, so maybe Bakugou is just like this with women he didn’t go to school with? LOL), but Camie makes Uraraka look like “real Deku” (I guess because she knows “real Deku” best besides Bakugou and Iida and Todoroki who is bad at acting?) while Deku changes back into undercover Deku

Deku and Shinsou are just like, WE WILL EXPLAIN THIS LATER, BUT WE HAVE TO MAINTAIN THIS COVER RIGHT NOW, as everyone is changing and a months long professional secret is being pressure cooked with the private not so secret of Bakugou introducing a stranger to all his friends and family at his birthday. But they’re all already in a private side room when Bakugou finds them and he tells Shinsou and Camie to get lost, losers, and then Bakugou introduces undercover Deku to “real Deku” who at the moment is actually Uraraka.

And here’s where the dream is making a reach, I know, but it made the connection because of all the canonical Star Wars references: Bakugou introduces undercover Deku as “my Satine.”

WHICH, for those of you who aren’t as aware of the romantic tragedy that is Obi-Wan Kenobi’s life, means “the person I would have left the Jedi Order for, had she asked.” And in this context, between a young Deku and Bakugou before everything about their friendship went wrong, a term that meant “something that you love more than being a hero.” And its not necessarily that Bakugou is planning to stop being a hero—he’s #1, at the top of the game, and the people need him—but, maybe, one day, he wouldn’t mind retiring if it’s with his Satine.

“Real Deku” aka Uraraka, whose face Bakugou is looking at for a reaction, does not know this term, just nods and smiles and says nice to meet you. But actual undercover Deku whose expression is slightly obscured by a different hairstyle and who is facing the wrong way for Bakugou’s peripheral to easily catch, is wide eyed. Is shocked to the point of stifling a gasp.

But undercover Deku shakes “real Deku’s” hand and smiles in possibly the best or worst acting since becoming this identity. It’s a strained, wobbly sort of smile because somehow both of his worlds are simultaneously colliding and imploding and he has to stay in character and Bakugou is watching and Uraraka is doing him a favor without explanation and Shinsou is going to kick his ass if he messes up literal months of work. So he smiles and shakes his own hand and somehow makes it through the rest of the night—hopefully Shinsou can field Camie and Uraraka’s questions long enough to set up a proper debriefing session—and if Bakugou is concerned or suspicious at all, he doesn’t say anything and Deku certainly isn’t in a state of mind to pick up on it.

Bakugou doesn’t make any advances that night—perhaps sensing said state of mind? or perhaps never intending to make any advances. The boy is, ironically, a slow burner when it comes to romance—but he does make sure that they’re still on for their traditional weekly coffee. And that’s it. He doesn’t declare his intentions, he doesn’t explain to undercover Deku what Satine means even though undercover Deku really wouldn’t know the significance of that term and should be curious.

TIME FOR DEKU TO PANIC ABOUT HIS IDENTITY AND WHAT HE WANTS IN LIFE.

And then there’s the follow up scene with Shinsou and Camie and Uraraka in which the professional side of the undercover mission is explained/debriefed which is sort of okay since Camie is already in the same team/department as Shinsou and Uraraka can be considered a consultant/contact since she does work frequently with the Japanese government’s Emergency Management and Response Department. So professionally not too bad.

Personally, Deku is getting ROCKED.

And I want to reassure people that Deku isn’t afraid of Bakugou being transphobic. Bakugou has from the beginning correctly inferred that undercover Deku is a trans woman as he was meant to. We’re in the future(? I think?) I’m declaring there is no transphobia. The problem is that Bakugou doesn’t know undercover Deku is Deku. And also, until the possibility of not having to be “real Deku” ie the publicly known version, it never really occurred to Deku that maybe he didn’t want to be a he in real life and that not being that publicly known version could be an option. And to know that option was a viable enough life and identity that Bakugou—who had, as children before everything fell apart, scorned the very idea of something that would take him away from being a hero, had sworn he’d never have anything resembling a Satine—would want to be with that…

I’M JUST SAYING, THAT I GAVE MYSELF EMOTIONS AND I WANTED TO SHARE.

Then I lost track of what happens after that.. I think Deku as undercover Deku starts to distance themself from Bakugou by being too busy for coffee and also self deprecating comments about not being good enough—which leads to a conversation about that. And that makes things worse because Bakugou then actually declares his romantic intentions and it’s like. NO PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY ANYMORE, DEKU.

Presumably the mission objective, ie finding the culprit(s) responsible for the leak/embezzling/corruption within Japanese government’s Emergency Management and Response Department, is actually completed which means that undercover identity is no longer needed which I guess would have to lead to undercover Deku identity disappearing? Which then brings up the ultimate confession scene?

I don’t know. I just had so many identity romantic entanglement feelings. I’m only sorry I cannot write this fic properly. RIP fic idea, you gave me so many emotions.

#jacksgreyson #boku no hero academia #fake fic summaries #brainstorm #fanfiction #bakudeku #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugou #hitoshi shinsou #camie utsushimi #ochako uraraka

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rvmmm21 · 4 years ago

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[ V V S her diamonds ] – ch 03.

[4:15 p.m.] Disappointment tweaks at Seungwan’s heart when she peers through the huge glass window of their study cafe and sees no Bae Joohyun.

. . . . .

A group of students are huddled in the back, bent over open textbooks, laptops and scattered stationary.

Yerimie, Saeron, Seul, wow, there’s Jennie sunbaenim. And she spies Sooyoung sunbaenim balancing a tray of various caffeine-injected drinks back to the table.

A sad sigh escapes her lips. Perhaps she’s l–

“Seungwan?”

Oh my g– what the–?! Seungwan screams, whipping around in shock at the fingers gently resting on the back of her shoulder. She’s met with a slightly surprised Joohyun, standing there wearing a cream Jute blouse tucked into denim jeans, twinkling eyes and endless amusement etched into rosebud lips.

“S-Sunbae!” She exclaims, grasping her chest to calm her rapid-fire heart. “Y-You’re here, I was just–”

What, peering through the glass, looking for you like a creep?

“It’s fine,” Joohyun chuckles, adjusting her hold on the stack of thick notebooks cradled in her arm and motioning for the younger girl to lead the way. “Let’s go. This is heavy.”

Thursdays might’ve found an unexpected favour with Son Seungwan.

Busy eyes move from annotating to the two girls urgently making their way over, the students lifting their heads at Seungwan’s warm greeting.

“Sorry we’re late,” she sincerely apologises.

Jennie knowingly eyes her friend. “Not surprised.”

Joohyun raises her a playfully challenging brow before slipping into the free seat next to Sooyoung at the end of the table, right across her partner.

“You ordering anything, Wan?” Seulgi asks between highlighting her page, offering her and Joohyun biscuits in individually wrapped aluminium packets.

Joohyun takes one and Seungwan nibbles on the edge of her biscuit, deep in thought. The group soon slips into the robotic rhythm of monochromatic scribbling, greyscale note-taking, typing, and intermittent snacking. Jennie slips away to order small desserts for everyone at the table. They thank her with shocked bows and hungry stares, unable to settle on one in the garland of appetising coloured treats on the tiny table.

“Sunbae, you’re like Santa Claus,” Seulgi happily attacks the New York baked cheesecake. “When did you order this? It’s like we were asleep and we just woke up to presents!”

Her bearish enthusiasm has an observant Sooyoung unconsciously smiling around her fork.

As the group tucks in, Seungwan thinks a group study date is the safest she can be in terms of being on the receiving end of any more of her senior’s teasing mannerisms.

Fortunately, Joohyun always surprises her.

A little later on, they’re discussing the historical impact of contemporary Korean literature. Right in the middle of a sentence, Seungwan’s concentration is shattered by a deep blush of raspberry when she feels a feather-light graze against her right Adidas sweatpant leg. She chokes, almond eyes shooting up from messy essay notes, silently begging for mercy. But of course, Joohyun’s serene, unbothered expression gives nothing away as she continues to ask for her opinion as though Seungwan is crazy for looking like a flustered mess.

The frazzled junior doesn’t know what makes her head spin more; the fact that Joohyun, composed as ever, initiated a game of footsie right under both their friends’ noses in public… or that she secretly enjoys it.

Not that she’ll ever admit to the latter.

Small fists corkscrew the sleeves of her sky-blue Chrome Hearts hoodie as the desperation to hide the cherry-blossom tint in her cheeks builds.

. . . . .

It’s past midnight by the time they’re done, and everyone bids goodbye with ‘Z’s coming out of their ears. Much to everyone’s surprise, Sooyoung and Seulgi got along pretty well this evening and the taller girl had hastily agreed when Seulgi suggested they visit her favourite boba place. Yerim and Saeron were late for their movie, and Jennie was spending the weekend at her girlfriends’.

“Wait, are we dumb? Why did we book this now,” Saeron asks incredulously, “aren’t you gonna get wrecked by grumpy ajumma? Curfew ended like ten minutes ago.”

“Ah who cares, she’s always like that,” Yerim retorts with a dismissive wave. “I could fill a prison wall with how many strikes she’s given me and Seungwan and Seulgi unnie.” She slings an arm over Saeron’s shoulder, urging them to hurry. “C’mon, ads don’t take forever.”

“Wan-ah,” Seulgi calls back as she’s being dragged away by an eager Sooyoung, “if you order pizza can you leave some out for me!”

“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy. Don’t wake me up.”

“Hyun-ah, you sure you’re not coming?” Jennie’s sleek midnight-black Vetements cardigan blends with the hues of the night sky, giving away how late it is. She swipes into her messages. “Chaeng said she doesn’t mind.”

Joohyun laughs with mock disgust. “Thanks Jen, but I’m not crashing your date-nights anymore, thank you very much. I saw enough the last time, my eyes can’t take that kind of stuff.”

Waving goodbye, Jennie and Chaeyoung speed off, leaving Seungwan wondering what ‘kind of stuff’ Joohyun could be referring to.

The pair are drawn to the horribly lit bus stop and just about the only source of light for miles.

Seungwan yawns silently, but she doesn’t mind waiting with Joohyun. It’s late and although her apartment is in the opposite direction, she’d be at ease knowing her friend got home safely.

The darkness is engulfing, allowing an overhead street lamp to bathe them in its flicking spotlight like stars in a West End Production.

“We were pretty productive today, sunbae,” the younger tries to make conversation to fill the space between them. “Do you wanna come for next week’s session too?”

“Sure,” comes the reply. “Thanks for waiting with me. When’s your ride getting here? We should’ve booked at the same time.”

Seungwan nervously scratches the back of her neck, crinkling her worksheets in her grip. “Uh, I’m just walking home tonight actually.”

“Oh? Do you live closeby?” she asks in surprise, assuming they were both waiting for taxis.

“Ah, yes, I’m just– it’s just down there.”

Joohyun narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Down there… where.”

“Just a quick walk, past… past the duck pond,” the girl mumbles, staring down at her shoes.

“Q-Quick? Quick?” Joohyun stutters, malfunctioning at their severely clashing definitions of ‘close’. A delicate fist draws back and Seungwan flinches, Bae Joohyun looking closer and closer to doing what she did to Lucas to her poor, startled junior. “The duck pond near uni? Yah, Son Seungwan, that’s almost a twenty minute walk from here.”

“Fifteen if I have my speed walking playlist on,” Seungwan tries, but she isn’t listening.

“A lot of dangerous things can happen in twenty minutes, you know.” She hurriedly unlocks her phone and clicks into the KakaoTaxi app, altering the destination to add a stop and shoving it into reluctant hands. “Hurry, put your address in.”

Seungwan so badly wants to politely decline, not confident in her ability to sit in a moving vehicle with such a pretty person without hurling herself out the window at top speeds. But the latter’s glare dares her to try.

With shaky fingers, she successfully types in her address after three tries and hands it back. Joohyun checks it and confirms the change. Seungwan wants to comment on how her frantic nature is actually really endearing, but she resists, thinking she’s still cooling off from it.

“Thank you, sunbae,” she bows instead. She even tries to insist she pay her share of the ride, but Joohyun refuses, saying it’s what she gets for thinking it was a good idea to walk home alone.

Finally, a black Sedan pulls up to the curb and the driver winds down his window. “KakaoBlack for Bae Joohyun?” He checks, looking as ready as both girls are to go home and crash for the night.

The girl nods, opening the door for Seungwan to get into the backseat and climbing in after her.

Grand streaks of neon dance across the car windows, falling behind as quickly as they appear. Seungwan tears her gaze from the rapid city lights when she hears her name.

An almost child-like excitement masks Joohyun’s usually steely features when Seungwan hums questioningly, not having heard what she’d said. “I said unnie,” she repeats, “you should call me unnie now that we’re closer. Honestly, I wanted to correct you this evening, but I never got the chance to. Aish, everyone was so noisy.”

The topic of noise has Joohyun distracted, suddenly popping off on a tangent about how sound-proof couple study rooms should be integrated in cafes and student-dense areas alike. But Seungwan finds it hard to focus on anything other than those glowing eyes and that tiny, lopsided smile.

For the rest of the journey, the two exchange stories of their university life experiences, life outside classrooms and even a few laughs; mostly on Joohyun’s part at how Seungwan seems to have the most prankish roommates slash best friends in the world. She loses it at ‘carbonara shampoo’, finding the idea wickedly genius and hilariously absurd altogether. Uncontrollable cackling booms in the backseat and Seungwan can’t help but giggle too, ears saturated with Joohyun’s chimerical laughter.

Eventually, the street lights and the houses start looking familiar and they’re pulled into a student apartment lobby before either of them knows where the time went. Joohyun can see the grumpy ajumma at reception wearing a frown, but she doesn't know it’s because someone’s gone over curfew. Again.

“Goodnight Seungwan.”

“Goodnight… unnie.” Seungwan wishes, ignoring the way their new closeness unfolds her heart like a secretly passed note. “Stay safe, and message me when you get back!”

Making to get out of the car, she flinches when she’s unable to fully stand up. Gulping, she glances over her shoulder to see Joohyun holding her back by her bag straps. In her sleepy state, the younger can’t tell if that intently searching gaze is serious or not.

“By the way, when you were looking into the cafe from outside this evening, you weren’t checking Jennie or Sooyoung out, were you?”

Seungwan shakes her head truthfully. “Why?”

“Good.” A cat-like smirk graces her lips and Seungwan’s stomach drops. “Just making sure.”

. . . . .

#red velvet #wenrene #university au #i ranted about cheesecake #because i want some #established chaennie #YES CHAENNIE IS MY FAV #AM I WRONG?#NO.#the aggression speaks volumes #hints of Saeri and joygi #are we surprised that irene takes kakaoblacks

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whentherewerebicycles · 4 years ago

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y’all something is so broken with my ability to sleep and I just *incoherent screaming for one thousand years* ahhhHHHH. I lay awake for at least 2 hrs 15 min last night after bedtime (I hide all the clocks so I’m not staring at them or thinking about them but I do allow myself to check the time once per night if I am still not asleep and have to get up to use the bathroom). I suspect that during that time I am not fully awake—I did an overnight lab sleep study once years ago and it said I spent a long time moving in and out of stage 1 sleep ie the “dozing off” period that is only supposed to last for a few minutes—but it sure feels like being awake and it also just cuts out a huge chunk of the night where I should be getting NREM (healing stage) and REM sleep (dreams), which I knoooooow must be happening because I wake up with every small injury or strain feeling sooo much more sore and painful, and my whole body just feels like it’s taken a beating instead of rested.

I WILL NOT DESPAIR!!! (she says, a bit despairingly.) okay the breathing and visualization stuff works, I can feel it working, I can feel all 2.5 fucking hours of it working, but there’s still SOMETHING that is making it hard for me to transition from that light drifting relaxed state into deep sleep. the good thing is that after a lifetime of ~delayed sleep onset~ I have learned not to panic about it in the moment because it’ll just wake my brain up more and make it harder to fall asleep. but like while not panicking is good it also does not fix the underlying issue aghh. ok jes think what can you do.

I know I am ultra sensitive to caffeine so maybe I need to carefully examine the caffeine content of the foods I’m eating to see if there’s anything that might be disrupting sleep there

I know I have a lot of sleep disturbances at certain phases in my cycle but it’s hard to track because my cycle can be so irregular. but maybe this is something to research—if it’s something hormonal are there things I should be doing/not doing or eating/not eating?

I have been okayish at putting away screens an hour before bed but there are some nights where I’m wearing my blue light glasses and I convince myself it’s basically fine. it’s probably not fine. I think at some point I want to experiment with a complete screens fast after different times at night—maybe a week where at 8pm I lock up my phone and laptop somewhere so I have 2.5 screen free hours before lights out. I need to do this just to collect some DATA because having that info will help me figure out if it’s that or something else

I exercise 60-120 min a day and I’m careful not to exercise within 3 hours of bedtime so I know it’s not an exercise thing. but maybe I can see if there are tweaks to be made there like I know the morning walk in sunlight is supposed to help your circadian rhythms normalize

I know I’m not always great about ONLY sleeping in bed and ONLY getting into bed when I’m ready to sleep. this is partly just living in a small space where there aren’t that many places to be! but maybe I can look into creating a cozy reading nest in the corner or something so I have a nice place to hang out but can reserve my bed as a space I am only in from 10:30pm-7am. hmmm ok maybe I will think about this today

at some point I need to do the full cognitive behavioral therapy insomnia thing where you deliberately practice carefully scheduled phases of sleep deprivation to force your body to reset but god I do not look forward to it! maybe this summer when I don’t have to be alert for student meetings

I also want to explore napping at some point I’ve never been able to nap but it’s maybe mostly because I’m terrified that napping will affect my ability to sleep at night. but maybe this summer I will experiment with some diff sleep/wake cycles throughout the day and night to see if a mid-afternoon nap would help

I know this is probably at its core a combination of so-so sleep hygiene practices (which I can fix) and my chronotype/innate circadian rhythm (which I can trick a little bit but probably can’t fundamentally change). my mother and grandmother have exactly the same pattern of delayed sleep onset / easily disrupted mid-night sleep / sensitivity to hormonal shifts and we are all extreme night owls who have to live on an early bird schedule. it is FRUSTRATING to know that but also slightly comforting because I feel like it helps to think of sleep issues not as “something is broken inside me ahhHHHHhhHhhhhhh WHY” and more as, like, something about my body’s natural temporal rhythms does not align with the schedule or temporal rhythms of the society I live in and I just need to figure out how to bring those two things a little closer together ahHhhHHH but okay, agh, time to face the day

#sleep #sleep DESPAIR #but also SLEEP PLANS

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explodingcrenelation · 4 years ago

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Quick personal update—I got my second vaccination shot yesterday and so far the symptoms aren’t too bad. Had a bit of a headache, soreness at the injection site (obviously), and experienced some lack of appetite (but no nausea). The worst symptom was insomnia last night. I’d had no caffeine whatsoever, but I couldn’t get to sleep until the wee hours of the morning, no matter how hard I tried. I had some chills when I finally did sleep, too, but those passed pretty quickly. Today I’ve felt generally good, despite being worn out from lack of sleep.

Fic update— I want to start posting small, maybe weekly, progress updates keeping people posted on progress for Nowhere to Go But Home. Maybe every weekend? I’m hoping that will start to give me a weekly focal point to work towards so that my efforts to write become easier and more regular.

This got long, so more is behind the cut:

Lemme be real, the updates will probably start out very small and sparse. There’s a lot left to do and my time is pretty full to start with. Part of the writing process is retraining my brain more towards positive creative habits (and away from addictive, time-wasting habits), and that takes time and practice.

BUT. That being said. I did work on the fic a bit this last week. I’ve got my to-do list for the fic sketched out and divided up into bite-sized pieces, which really helps. I have chunks of the last few chapters written as well as an outline sketched out already. This last week I did some work on revising the story outline because some details weren’t sitting right with me. Specifically, I’m tweaking Steve’s next chapter because I want to dig more into his emotional state. Steve is always the hardest of the three for me to write. I don’t want to break him, but I do want him to get some character growth out of what they’re all going through. (Please work with me, Steve lol)

And yes! So. It’s not much, but the story’s on my mind and I did something about it, and that’s still better than I’ve been doing for the last three, uh, four years. So hopefully the goal for next week is to have the outline for Steve’s role fully sorted out, and then we’ll go from there.

#echo nonsense #my fanfic

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vegetacide · 5 years ago

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Cloak and Dagger

Chapter 2: Nothing Ventured

Vegetable Notes: I spewed out another chapter. Thanks for @gumnut-logic for letting me chew on her ear some- she rocks!

Soundtrack for this chapter - Thornley, Tea Party, Jeff Martin and Never Ending White Lights.

Previous chapter can be found here

Enjoy!

8-8-8

Pulling the door closed, Kayo turned and ran smack into a familiar blue, twill weave. Scott grunted at the sudden impact, his hands coming to brace her at the near miss with the floor “Kay, whoa!”

Righting herself, Kayo took a step back. “Sorry, about that. I…”

“No, it was my fault.”

“Let’s agree to disagree then.”

Putting some distance between them Kayo watched as Scott forced himself into a casual posture, hands into his pant pockets, shoulders down and seemingly relaxed. To anyone else the pose would look just what it was expected to look like. To her, it screamed the opposite. The fine lines of tension around his eyes and the muscles working along his strong jaw as he clenched and unclenched his jaw told her another story completely.

Rocking back on his heels, his eyes strayed from her to the door and back again as if he was expecting someone else to come through the thing.

“He’s already up and about.” She took mercy on him, knowing he was struggling with his need to mother-hen. Pulling her loose hair up and off her neck she quickly twirled it into a bun and fasten it into place with the a black hair band that was every present at her wrist.

Scott watched her well practiced movements a moment and she registered exactly when her words sunk in. Virgil was by no means a morning person. It was barely past 7 am and the man was renowned for his love of sleep.

“Oh…” Kayo blinked, not the reaction she had expected. Scott was off his game this morning but by the looks of him, he hadn’t faired much better than Virgil had last night. She’d seen the same look on Virgil’s face this morning as he had stumbled about in the pre-dawn light - as graceless as ever before his coffee fix.

She could read the brothers like a book and Scott was no different. For all his military training and commanding attitude the worry for his sibling was obvious. “He mumbled something about running diagnostics, post flight checks and cataloguing inventory losses but you know what he is like before caffeine.”

“Damn…” An expletive from Scott this early in the day didn’t bode well. “The call out was a bad one and the mission debrief didn’t go so well.”

“I assumed it hadn’t,” She’d observed quite a bit since she’d returned, “Considering everyone has either run for the mainland, ghosted the island like it might explode, turned into uber professionals or has just up and disappeared.

“Disappeared…?”

“When did you see Brain’s last?” She countered, not expecting a reply and carried on as if she hadn’t been interrupted. Brow raised, her green stare scanning with little remorse over Scott. “Oh, and you and Virgil look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks” Kayo shrugged with nonchalance.

“I call it like I see it”

“Love you too” There, an uptick close to a smile flashing into existence. It was the reaction she was looking for from the straight backed, slightly too contained shell he was putting on. She could work with this now.

Stepping away from the entry to Virgil’s sanctum sanctorum, Kayo put a hand on Scott’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze in support. “Go talk to him. I’ll be in the coms room when your ready.”

8-8-8

Scott stepped out of the elevator onto the catwalk overlooking Two and sighed at the music that greeted his ears. Rock blasted with the heavy beat of drums through the massive space. Ricocheting down off the ceiling and reverberating in the grating beneath his feet.

Dropping his head, he rubbed at his stiff neck. Audible proof that things were in the shitter with Virgil via Thornley, circa 2002. His brother’s music choice was usually a good barometer to his mood and Scott was about to walk in on it.

“Have fun with that.” Scott, looked over at Gordon as he limped up the stairs..

“Thanks.”

“He’s in a real mood today if he’s broken out the oldies. You may be taking your life in your own hands if you go in there. “

“Noted, “ Scott looked down to the open blast door some 200 ft down that separated the main hanger from the module storage bay and subsequently where Virgil could be found in his workshop.

“I’m off,” Gordon turned, looking with appreciation and longing at his craft floating in its aquatic launch. “I promised Alan I would call him and distract him from the boredom of shopping with Grandma.”

“No physio this morning?” Scott asked with a look of concern as his brother rolled and re-rolled his left shoulder

“Nah, taking a break today.” Gordon looked abashed at this and failed to meet Scott’s eyes. “I may or may not have over done it yesterday...a bit…”

Scott look skyward and prayed for strength, this family was going to make him fully grey in no time. “And you’re worried about me going down there?” He pointed down below and snorted. “If Virgil or for that matter, Lady P finds out you know what will happen, right?”

The shudder that went through Gordon said he was well aware of it. “Please don’t. The images I have in my head about what Kayo is going to do to me is disturbing enough. Don’t add to it.”

“Kayo knows?”

“Busted me last night.”

“Sucks to be you.” Scott winced in sympathy

“No shit”

Shaking his head, Scott ruffled the fish’s hair as he passed by. The scowl that was returned for his efforts ignored as he set off down the stairs.

“If you don’t make it back, I’ll make sure to ask John to erase your browser history. Can’t have Grandma finding out about your disturbing extracurriculars and your hamster fetish…” Scott stopped in his tracks at that but Gordon was already safely stowed away in the lift on his way back up to the main house.

“Brat..”

Hands tucked in his pockets, Scott strolled across the hanger and made his way around the massive supports of Two. The great, hulking beast was up on her struts. One of her nesting modules parked below on the heavy tracks built specifically for trundling the huge cargo crates across the expanse of chemical resistant substrate topped flooring.

Stepping across the embedded components of the pod conveyor system and through the reinforced bay door into the orderly storage area beyond, Scott marveled at the deceptiveness of the place their home was built around. To say the hanger was big was one thing but add in the hidden 1300 foot length of the storage area and the place was massive.

The area, though only the width of about 500 ft at its widest, housed all of the modules, pods, grappling lines, fire suppression gear and spare parts needed for the large, green ‘bird. All of it stored away in specific, tidy, very well maintained numbered bays and lockers.

It was a running gag between the Brothers that if you moved anything a millimeter in any one direction that Virgil would know instantly and without thought; like some OCD zombie, move said item back into its rightful space. Gordon had even tried it a few times for shits and giggles with varying degrees of success.

The aquanaut had learned quickly not to do this though when he found himself locked in his owner bathroom, covered in biodegradable glitter and spray cheese… how and when Virgil had rigged the shower, was anyone’s guess.. Gordon though hadn’t tried to ‘adjusted’ the placement of anything down in storage since. Never mess with an engineer.

To this day, Scott knew that Gordon was still finding flecks of glitter stuck to his person or in random other places. Scott was pretty sure though that Virgil was the culprit there with those instances, placing little, glimmering pieces here and there around the island where he knew his younger sibling would find it. A little subconscious reminder for good measure.

Mentally slapping himself with a silent curse Scott closed his eyes. He was procrastinating. Letting his mind wonder about as his body did so he didn’t have to confront the disagreement from the night before. This was the epitome of going against the grain of his character.

Sucking it up, he peered around module 2. The door to the crate was down, the light from within casting shadows on the alcove that clever mechanic had claimed as his space.

Virgil was sitting at one of the work stations. The chair was tipped back on its hind legs, his steel toed clad feet up on the utility bench, teetering the wooden chair back and forth. In his lap, Scott could make out the pale blue glow of a computer interface his brother was flicking through. Adjusting levels and tweaking air intake ratios with the expertise of a conducted with an orchestra. The music, though not something Scott considered enjoyable, played through the large concussion fire suppression system and from this distance the interference caused by the echo of the hanger was negligible. The module padding and design itself helping to insulate the reverb caused by the massive speakers.

Max was wheeling about in the limited confines of the module, seeming to dance along with the music. Mechanized arms pin wheeling around as if he was directing the course of the notes.

“Max, switch tracks please.” Polite as ever, even to an automaton. The song quickly flipped over to another tune and the melody shifted to something with a bit more pep. “Ugh.. next”

“I think this would be classified as a misappropriation of resources.” His brother barely glanced up at that, dark brows dropping down as some readings flashed across the interface that he didn’t like.

“The sound system I originally installed in here is distorting the lower octaves at higher volume. The sub woofer needs to be upgraded.” An off hand remark, “So I improvised.. Dual purpose, I can check the frequency output at the same time."

Scott plucked the display from his brother’s lap, looking over the present data on thrust to air intake ratios. “Multitasking I see”

“Passes the time. ”

They sat in relative silence for a while, neither one willing to break the stalemate they seemed to have found themselves in. As one song ended and another started up, Scott bit the bullet.

“How are the ribs?”

“Sore”

Scott looked his brother over, he’d pulled his overall down and looped the arms around his waist, the thin muscle shirt underneath dampened with sweat in a few places but relatively clean. “Adhesive bindings?” Scott questioned as he noticed the medical tape under the thin material up his left side.

Virgil shrugged, “The discomfort is more manageable this way.” At Scott’s sigh he quickly added, “Not tight enough to restrict respiration. I know what I’m doing, so leave it alone, Scott”

“OK, OK,” Scott put his hands up in surrender. His brother did not want to be coddled. Scott resisted the urge to say more on it. Last thing they needed with Gordon being out of action still was Virgil being bed ridden with a chest infection.

Virgil dropped his feet to the floor, the heavy soles thunking on the raised metal sheeting that covered this section of the work space. Grimacing he got up and straightened his spine by sheer will power alone against the obvious physical ache. Once accomplished he stalked over to a tool chest “What do you want, Scott?”

“Nothing, just checking in.”

A roughly opened drawer was equally thrust closed again. Small blister pack of pills in hand, Vigil broke the seal on two of the tablets and dry swallowed the lot. “Bullshit.”

Anger simmering, Scott resisted raising to the bait and took a calming breath. Maybe coming down here wasn’t such a wise idea.

‘Fine, I came to apologize for yesterday. I was out of line and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you or the useless forestry service supervisors.”

“Apology accepted, now if you will excuse me..”

“Come on, V. You were almost killed yesterday. I was and still am worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Scott.” Virgil tossed the blister pack on the bench and grabbed a socket wrench. “Ribs will heal, this is nothing. I have had worse.”

“I’m not talking about your ribs and you know it.” Facing off with his brother when he was in this sort of head space was never a good plan.

Virgil was known as the calm and collected one in the house and due to such was usually the sounding board the others went to when needed. But under the calm surface and rock steady nature was a man that felt deeply, more so than any of them could ascertain. And Scott as close as he was to his stalwart sibling, could see that the impact of yesterday was sending ripples out ever widening circles of self doubt and blame.

Scott counted on his brother and he wanted to provide that same support back. Their almost preternatural bond forged by a tragic, shared history had solidified them into what they were today and Scott would do whatever he could to protect it.

“I said ‘I’m fine.’ ” The slight hitch said otherside as the wrench was slammed down on the work surface.” Head down between tight shoulder, arms braced. “Just leave it, Scott.”

The pleading in Virgil’s voice had Scott backing off. “It wasn’t your fault, Virgil.”

“Scott, please..”

Coming up behind the second eldest Scott placed a hand on the back of his neck, “OK, I hear you 5 by 5, little brother.” And gave the tight muscles a reassuring squeeze, instincts screaming at him. He knew though that pushing would get him nowhere.

“When your ready to talk, come find me.”

8-8-8

Kayo hit the volume controls on the holo-vid and crossed her arms as the Kat Cavanaugh's sat up primly with the introduction to her segment.

"Thank you, Albany." Kat nodded in gratitude, her voice confident. Cavanaugh had upped her game since her rescue out by the Gran Roca Ranch. Her show having gained much popularity with her first hand account. The world at large was crazed for any information on the clandestine organization and she had quickly shot up in the reporting ranks.

So much so that the international community at large was now listening. With an added co-anchor, Albany Crenshaw the sphere of her world had changed from basic rag gossip to world wide events. Set changes, advertising, content and even personal appearance had been buffed to a high sheen. Success in every angle.

Her once, rather laid back appearance giving way to a well groomed, professionalism. A slick bob set off the features of her face adding a maturity that the barrettes of the past had lacked. Dressed up in a wool jacket and a fine print, split-neck blouse she radiated respectability all topped off with a dusting of make-up in neutral tones. Nothing out of place, everything poised and polished. A far cry from her previous casualness.

Angling herself just right in the studio lighting, her lips turned up in a competent smile. “Good evening, I'm Kat Cavanaugh. Tensions in Kazakhstan are on the rise tonight amidst continued civil unrest as protests and riots break out across the country."

Since October’s Military back coup by Socialist party leader, Mikhalev Lukyan Grigorievich there has been an outcry to the world nations for his removal.

Grigorievich, who took control from interim leaders after the sudden death of President Alexandra Danilovna, seized power in an overnight raid in the country’s capital of Nur-Sultan.”

In recent years the country has fallen on civil and economic hardships with the depletion of its hydrocarbon production and the forced closure of the counties mineral mines due to civil rights violations. International amnesty groups have reported that this along with the abysmal work conditions and the country’s strict policies against assembly are major contributors to the continued upheaval.

Additionally, unsubstantiated reports of clashes between the Kazakh Renewal and Reformation Coalition and military personnel has lead to a media blackout in Almaty. Rumours supplied by asylum seekers at the Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan borders speak of an increased Military presence within the city limits and a steep escalation of violence.

The GDF and the World Union has been surprisingly quiet on the topic. Issuing only that the area has been declared a ‘No Fly’ zone and that all non-Kazakhstan citizens should avoid the area or head to the nearest embassy for evacuation.”

Several notes of interest followed relating to food shortages and power interruptions but the gist of the news coverage was that the region was in complete chaos and it was not likely to end amicably any time soon. The big question, Kayo pondered as she adjusted the volume to a near whisper with Scotts arrival, was the GDF going to do anything about the situation? Could they even do anything about it without crossing into territory that could divide the world at large. And if so, did they even have a right to? She found the lack of an easy and clean cut response disturbing.

International incidents were avoided these days with great effort but something told her in this case something was going to have to give to bring this conflict to a head. It was either that or watch a country with a population of some 23 million people either starve to death or completely self destruct. The stability in that part of the world would be shattered in the power vacuum.

Nodding her head towards the moving 3D holographic image above the table, Kayo uncrossed her arms and walked over to the desk where Scott had just parked with a grunt. “This is going to get messy before it gets any better.”

He made a vocal note of assent and took a sip of the coffee he’d brought in. Smelt like Virgil’s Sumatran blend she noticed offhandedly. “Looks like it, been playing on repeat all morning. With the GDF evacuation in effect more and more information is leaking out across the borders. I am expecting the GDF will make a formal request of us eventually but as of yet, they have been quiet on that front”

“Formal request?” Kayo cocked a brow, “You think they are going to bar us access to the area if there is a call?”

Scott shrugged, setting his cup down on the report ridden desk. “I have no idea, Aunt Val hasn’t said anything yet but she’s been a bit tied up.” He waved his hand towards the holo cast, encompassing everything going on in that area of the world.

“For the time being we will just have to play it by ear.” Rubbing at his eyes, he changed his focus and glanced at the time. “Lady P is supposed to be calling in shortly, if you don’t mind the wait.”

Kayo shook her head and leaned against the end of the desk. The morning sun was starting to heat things up again outside, and it was threatening to be a record setting high.

“How is he?” Came the inevitable question.

Kayo glanced back over her shoulder, assessing. It was unsettling for the brothers to be at odds. “You went and saw him, what do you think?”

“Fuck.”

“That sounds accurate.” Last night had been rough and Kayo wasn’t known for sugar coating. One of the reasons her and Scott worked well together for the most part. He appreciated her blunt and direct nature. Softening as she saw the matched set to the bags under Virgil’s eyes on Scotts face she tact on, “Give him time. He need to process things on his own. You know as well as I do that forcing things with him before he is ready isn’t a viable options. He’ll be fine given enough space and when he is ready he will come to you.”

“Ya, I guess you’re right. I’m just …” His words were cut off as a signal from their London agent come through. Mouthing an apology to Kayo, Scott opened the channel. “Lady Penelope, right on time.”

“Scott, darling. You look dreadful.”

Lips drawing into his trademark Scott Tracy one-sided smirk, he tilted his head to the side. “Good to see you too.”

8-8-8

Head still down, Virgil stayed silent at his brother’s parting words. The gently supportive squeeze a physical reminder that no matter what there was someone there for him if and when he wanted it.

After a moment he gave his head a shake. Enough of this crap. Time to get back to work. He had system analyses running on Two that needed to be monitored and an intake manifold for the rear, right VTOL had to be tweaked as the mixture ratio was off somehow - he suspected carbon deposits from back washing exhaust through a main intake to be the cause but he couldn’t be sure without removing the cowling and several other components. Hours of work ahead.

This could of course all be done automatically but Virgil like to be hands on with maintenance, tweaking and adjusting where needed to get the most of of his craft. He knew his ‘bird intimately,having crawling over and under every part of it. He enjoyed losing himself in the work, seeing what he accomplished at the end of the day like rebuilding an engine, overhauling a control panel or relay. It was good, honest work that left him feeling satisfied.

Yes, there were some days that things didn’t work out as planned. Some frustration caused by an answer eluding him, the challenge presented keeping him up sometime well into the early hours. But when the solution finally presented itself, the sense of achievement was phenomenal.

And finally, there was the pod drive sprockets.

He needed to know how he’d missed the damage. Their procedures dictated that visual scans be conducted after every mission so that any broken or damaged parts could either be repaired or outright replaced. In addition to that, during the decontamination and cleansing process, scanners in the washer bays would look for possible stress points. Virgil had looked over all of those scans personally as he did every time and he hadn’t seen anything.

He’d looked over the scans again this morning and still there was nothing there. So what had he missed? He’d thought that maybe complacency had come to the fore. Having done the process so many times, human errors could easily account for it but one thing Virgil prided himself on was his attention to detail. It’s what made him a good engineer.

Looking at the interface, he let his brain zone out with the hopes that the answer would jump out at him. If the procedure wasn’t the issue, maybe there was another angle he wasn’t seeing.

They could micro-scan the metallurgy, test for stress points and density but they had too much equipment for that. It would take weeks of fine tooth comb’ing it to go over all of it, There had to be another option available to them.

Turning, he took in all that was parked, stored and at the ready for whenever they got a call out again. Clean, orderly and poised for use at the drop of a hat. Geared up to be shunted into modules with a couple flicks of a finger and off into the air in a matter of minutes but what the hell was he missing..

A thought came to mind that had Virgil toggling his coms. “Hey, Brains?”

“Virgil, w-what can I do for you?” The genus’s 3D holographic image suspended above the receiver built into work desk flared to life. Brains was the other side of the hanger by One but it was just easier to call then haul his ass all the way over there and back.

“The wash-bay scanners been calibrated lately?”

Framed glasses slipped down a narrow nose as the relevant information was pulled up. “Uh, three w-weeks ago. Why? Is th-there something wrong with them?”

“Just a hunch. Can you run it again and do a system analysis?”

“That will t-take some time. I have the bulk of the island servers dedicated t-to the zero-x build.”

Virgil dragged a hand down his face. He didn’t have any other options right now. “Do what you have to and let me know if anything comes up.”

Brains’ image nodded. “R.A.D”

Virgil only rolled his eyes a little as he closed down the connection.

TBC

NEXT CHAPTER

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds are go #Virgil Tracy #kayo kyrano #virgil/kayo #scott tracy #Gordon Tracy #international rescue

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years ago

Text

The Coffee Prince Pt. 4

(T’Challa x Reader)

*Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3*

Word Count: 7.1k

Plot: Stuck in your ways of living, one day at the coffee shop, you run into a tall dark roast that threatens to wake you up from your romantic hibernation.

*Previously*

You close your room door, tossing T’Challa Jr. on your bed. Kicking your shoes off, taking your hair down, you pull out your phone.

Home safe! You send to him. You put your phone down and unclothe to get comfortable. Suddenly a ding sounds and you dive for your device.

Glory to Bast. Sleep well, umhle.

You read it a couple of times before setting your phone back down. Laying down, you clutch your prized possession T’Challa won you to your chest as the day’s event float in your head: euphorically exhausted.

The next few weeks with T’Challa that follow are some of the best you have experienced in a long time. You guys meet at the coffee shop from time to time when your schedules allow, and take evening walks to vent about your days and life, ending with sweet kisses before you guys part ways. You can’t remember the last time you walked into work on cloud nine, but T’Challa seemed to be doing that for you now.

This day however was particularly tasking. Your company’s online server was down, causing an uptick in calls from begrudging customers wanting answers on when their products would be available again to use. The worst part was that your processors had no clue what the problem is or how long it would take to fix, so you try your best to white lie your way to keeping customers satisfied enough to keep from threatening to revoke their memberships. Just before you are at your wits end however, you see your phone light up with T’Challa’s name calling in. T’Challa wasn’t a big texter; he likes to hear your voice and feels texting is too impersonal which you thought was quite sweet but could be inconvenient at times. You pick up and speak in a low tone.

“Heyyy, Chacha, what’s up?” You were still kind of trying to figure out a nickname for him. You kinda like this one.

“So much, right now, umhle. I could really use a break at the moment. Are you free to meet?”

You look at the queue of calls sitting in your phone line and the stack of paperwork you need to upload and organize.

“Yeah, I can step away for a bit. The usual?”

“If you don’t mind. We could do something else if you’d rather.” His tone tickles your eardrum as you imagine him saying that in another context, but T’Challa was completely pure in his intentions with you most of the time.

“No, no. I could kill for some caffeine right now and it’s closer. My energy is too low to walk far.” you say with a whine.

“Ms. Macchiato, in her true form. I’ll see you there then.”

“Ok, see you!” You’re cheesing as you hang up the phone. You look around at your other co-workers completely ignoring the queue and roll your eyes as you walk out. No way in hell you would be the only person putting in phone work around here. You remind yourself to do some job searching later when possible.

Walking into the shop, the smell of the coffee beans roasting was enough to make you moan audibly. You were so damn ready to wrap your lips on the rim, letting the warm liquid rejuvenate your spirit. As you approach the register, you hear a voice call to you.

“(Y/N)! Over here!” T’Challa waves from a table by the window.

You wave and mime the you are going to order something and he replies, “I’ve got you right here, umhle.”

You squint as you see the extra cup sitting in front of him with your name correctly scrawled along the side. Walking up to him your heart swells with appreciation. T’Challa stands up placing a hand on your arm and a kiss on your cheek.

“You didn’t have to buy it for me. I owe you for a couple other ones already.” you say taking your seat.

T’Challa hisses his disdain for your comment. “You have no reason to pay me back. That’s not how I do things; my treat is seeing you in front of me.”

You feel heat rise to your face from something other than the coffee. You hide your goofy smile in your cup as you take a sip.

T’Challa smirks at you a while before continuing, “A hard days work looks good on you, by the way. I know you said things have been piling up, that’s why I wondered if you would even be able to see me today.” T’Challa sips from his ‘Thomas’ cup.

You tweak your mouth as you shift in your seat, “Yeah, I just figured, the work will still be there whether I take a break now or later. And trust me, the work will still be there for me to do alone.”

“Ahh, so your co-workers aren’t as dedicated as you seem to be.” T’Challa summizes.

“I mean, dedicated is a strong word. I do what I need to do to get things cuz otherwise I’m going to hear someone’s mouth about it, and I don’t needed that added stress, you know?”

T’Challa nods hugging himself in contemplation, “I see what you mean. Your situation seems to be working in comparison with mine. You know of my community work in high-crime areas?”

You nod. T’Challa had spoken of his work with a non-profit to rebuild some areas that were pretty violent and drug ridden that you knew all too well.

“Well, of course it is not so simple as to give people things and expect them to use the materials to create a better situation for themselves with education. So we are trying to do that, educate, but everyone is at a different learning level, and not everyone learns at the same rate or method. So, as much as we would love to be projecting great numbers of progress, they have been slow to come and almost stagnant at times due to us still trying to build a foundation for a successful program.” T’Challa lifts his hands in surrender, shaking his head as he grips his cup up, staring into space.

“I get it. That’s some of the hardest work in the world; helping others in a completely selfless way. It can consume you, corrupt people and forget the mission at large. But I think you have a good head on your shoulders to keep things on track.” You reach for T’Challa’s hand, running your thumb along his slightly rough knuckles.

T’Challa sighs deeply watching your hand on his; his eyelids halfen his eyes. You see his shoulders start to relax as he grips your hand in yours.

“Look at that. It looks funny to me how polar opposite our hands are.” You stretch his out, raising it up to mirror yours, palm to palm. “Mine is stout and chubby, yours long and knuckly.” You chuckle to yourself regarding the assessment,

T’Challa interlaces his fingers in yours, his eyes smizing, “It’s a beautiful combination, I think. I need something soft to rest my hands on.”

Your heart skipped a beat at this statement. T’Challa kept doing things like this. You smile at him and he just smiles back, kissing the back of your hand gingerly, maintaining the hold as he drinks from his cup. Does he really not realize the double entendre or are you just too hot for him at this point? That’s something Tavia has practically put a countdown on: the time when you all fully express yourselves physically.

T’Challa says, “We have a community get-together happening this weekend by the way. You could come by; there will be food, music, games, the works. I’ll be working a little bit of everything, trying to spread the word of our program for people to take advantage of, but I could escort you around.” T’Challa says with a smile.

“Oh yeah! I’d love to see you in action over there. You had me at free food, but you know, the kids are the future as well.” You quip.

T’Challa scoffs, “Well that’s what the food is there for. Cheapest advertising tool known to man.” T’Challa looks at his watch, “I think I may have taken more of your time than I anticipated.”

You look at your phone at get a mini heart attack. Someone may actually notice your absence this time. You could just say you were in the bathroom the whole time. You both get up to leave the coffee shop.

Once outside you guys turn to each other. A thought crosses your mind and you start to speak but decide against it.

T’Challa, always observant, notices. “What’s on your mind, umhle?”

“Uhh...I don’t, mm.” You bite your tongue.

T’Challa rests his hand on your arm, sending an electricity through you that you found to be completely unfair. “If you can’t make the community event, it is alright. Your rest is more important. And I know you have plenty other things to do.”

“No, it’s not that. But um, are...do we…” T’Challa looks at your expectantly. “Are we...exclusive?”

There it is. Something that has been plaguing you for a while is how much you guys have hung out and gotten to know each other, but you couldn’t place if you guys were good friends who just kiss sometimes, or if he was looking for anything more.

“Are we exclusive?” T’Challa parrots back.

You nod, not wanting to say much else out of embarrassment.

T’Challa steps in front of you slowly leaning to whisper in your ear, “I don’t kiss my friends the way I kiss you, umhle.”

His bass snakes your inner ear like the serpent on an apple, as you twinge to keep your juices from flowing on sight.

He pulls from your ear staring you, hand resting on your hip. “And I am a one woman kind of man, (Y/N). Don’t think anyone else could carry a single percent of my attention from you.” Looking to your mouth he hovers his over it before allowing you to close the gap between you. His lips fit with yours perfectly as the suction creates a chorus of smacks, sealing the definition of your relationship.

A low grunt comes from T’Challa as he sighs deeply pulling from you. “So, do you like me? Yes or no?” He smiles goofily at you as you laugh at his childish question.

Stifling your smile, you say, “Maaaybe. But it’s in your favor.”

Heading back to your place, Tavia is posted on the couch with an array of books and papers scattered around her. She is back in school to earn a certification in something you keep forgetting.

Tavia looks at you over her glasses, “Whaddup, doh?”

“Nuthin much, girl. You?” You kick off your shoes and throw your keys in a bowl.

“Hun, you lookin at it. Procrastination remains the death of me. Them white folks still giving you hell at the job?”

“Yeah, they stay lazing around and I’m tending the field like Boss asks.” You exasperate as you plop on the easy chair massaging your scalp.

“You need to get the fuck outta there. They don’t appreciate you. And you too smart for that busy work.”

“Yeah. It would be so much easier if I could just stay and not start all over in a new place, though.”

Tavia wags a finger, “Uh-uh. Cuz then you would be getting more responsibility that does not reflect in your pay. Leave!!”

You marinate on Tavia’s words. It seems like she’s right honestly. You have no position in that job and there is no way to work up because positions get taken quick or just aren’t available.

“At least we can get our frustrations all out on some canvas at the Sip and Paint Saturday. Groupon finally came through with something good.” Tavia says bobbing her neck as she reads her notes.

Your stomach drops as you remember the plan you made last week with her. “Uhh…”

Tavia snaps to look at you, “Uhhh? Uh what?”

You play with your fingers as you speak, “So I ran into T’Challa today…”

“And?” Tavia winds her hand in the air for you to hurry up.

“He has a thing at his non-profit. Like a block party type thing. I said I would help…” You squeak out, waiting for the storm to blown.

Tavia looks at you frozen with blank expression. “Ok, I see.”

You recoil into your body as you continue, “Are you mad?”

“NAH! You good! I get it, dick is important to lock down. I applaud your efforts.” Tavia whips out her phone. “I guess I’ll get back on this app life. The Groupon is only good in for a couple, not single.”

You go over to half hug Tavia, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Girl.”

“Tsk, make it up by making that dick dance for you. That’s all I ask.” She pats your head on her shoulder before rolling it to get you off her.

You go to your room as you hear Tavia’s phone pinging on and on. “See? I got options too!”

Saturday comes and you make your way to the park the community party was being held at. Balloons and tables were in abundance; speakers were playing everything you heard on the radio and then some. The smell of burgers and brats filled the air and your stomach instantly caved in with hunger. T’Challa said they were good on set up and really just wanted you to enjoy yourself for the most part.

Making your way through the crowd, you go to the food table to fix a plate. You smile and thank the servers as they pile your plate with the goods. Once you make it to the dessert area, you feel two hands grip sides, making you jump a little.

“I have to admit, the sweets on that table would only disappoint you.” A voice you know too well tickles your hearing as his lips greet the side of your face.

You turn to see T’Challa smiling at you. “They look pretty good to me, what’s the problem?”

“As sweet as your lips are, they’d only taste sour.” he says screwing his lips in disgust before planting his mouth on yours. You didn’t need the plate or dessert if this was all that touched your lips today.

“Brother! This is not the way you introduce me to your girlfriend, eh?” a voice says behind you.

A young lady with braids in a bun shakes her head clicking her tongue at the both of you. “Shame, shame, I must say. We have health codes to maintain, please move the PDA along elsewhere.”

T’Challa smiles speaking to her, “(Y/N), this talkative volunteer is my sister, Shuri. I told you about her a little bit.”

Shuri nods proudly, sticking her hand out. “The pleasure is all mine. I am the subject of many people’s conversations, I’m just that memorable. And don’t let him fool you, I am running this operation, not just volunteering.”

Taking her handshake, you buck your eyes at T’Challa “Oh?”

T’Challa shifts his weight, pursing his lips, “Shuri, you know better than to fib. This isn’t Wakanda, you have a secondary position here.”

Shuri waves her hand in his face, “Ah ah ah! Bump all of that, Brother. Science and tech is the most important aspect of the program, no surprise. The public schools here do nothing to emphasize the importance and hone their knowledge to be able to apply what they learn outside the classroom. Also, I meant the picnic anyway. You barely lifted a finger to decorate.”

“Bast! I did more than life a finger. Anything heavy was my job to handle! Cutting up cake is not ‘doing everything’.” T’Challa exclaims.

Shuri holds a fist up to her face and demonstrates a winding motion next to it. “I wonder what will pop up?” Her middle finger slowly unravels.

“Can I get the apple pie, please?” a person asks.

Shuri drops her hands and puts on a winning smile, “Of course! We have plenty, so don’t hold back!” She says as she hands over a pre-cut slice.

You were getting your life to the back and forth between T’Challa and Shuri. Rubbing T’Challa’s back you dismiss yourselves. “Thank you Shuri, and it was so nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, (Y/N). He can’t shut up about you, so use that to your advantage.”

T’Challa moans in frustration shaking his head as he leads you away to a table to sit.

You sit and start to to smack on your food.

“(Y/N), I’m going to make rounds for a bit. Will you be ok here?”

You nod with a mouth full of food hindering your speech. T’Challa smiles, kissing your forehead as he walks toward some informational tables. The whole party seemed to be a smash hit. Hordes of people walked around enjoying the sites and music. Kids ran after each other and got their faces painted. Shuri moved from the dessert table to the science area where she and others demonstrated simple experiments making fog and foam appear from virtually thin air. There was a mini exhibit on an element called ‘vibranium’ that you hadn’t heard of before so maybe you would check that out.

Finishing your plate, you definitely had The Itis, so you needed to get up and do something. You weren’t sure where T’Challa went, but you went around to enjoy the sights regardless. You played a couple of the carnival games, trying to knock bottles down with a nerf gun and that one cornhole game that’s always a classic.

You waited in line forever to get your face painted and while the clown lady was giving you a gorgeous flower on your cheek, a voice calls out to you.

“Yaaass! Getcho face BEAT for the Gods!”

Turning slightly to not mess up the creation, you see Tavia made it to the party.

“Hey girl! Whatchu doin here? You didn’t say you were coming!” You exclaim taking her hand lovingly.

“I love surprises though, so here I be! I did wanna be nosy too though. Where’s Tobago?”

You roll your eyes, “Tavia, I will knock you clean the fuck out if you get his name wrong in front to his face. T-Cha-lla.”

“Listen, it only matters that you get Thalia’s name right. Don’t worry bout me! Where is he anyway?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I thought he would be escorting me around but he got caught up in the mix I guess. Why are you here though? Ain’t Sip and Paint tonight?”

Tavia nods, “Uh-huh. I found a willing participant to accompany so I’ll be leaving, like now.”

The lady gives you a mirror to show you the finished art on you. “Ok, well have fun. I know this is about to wrap up too in like 15 minutes, so if I don’t do anything after, I’ll be home.”

“Please, do something else! You made your way out here for the nigga to abandon you for most of it. He owes you somethin!” She raises her eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Ok! Bye!” You say dismissing her.

As Tavia leaves, you look around to see where T’Challa went. Instead, you see Shuri breaking down the science exhibit area and decide to ask her.

“Hey, Shuri. Have you seen your brother around?”

Shuri looks across the way, “I don’t know actually but I hope he is deflating the bounce house. People will keep coming and kids will never leave if that stays up.” Shuri struggles to fold a table and you reach down to bend the leg joint of it so it folds.

“Ugh, thanks (Y/N).”

“No problem! Do you need help with anything else around here? I got nothing else to do.”

Shuri nods looking around, “If you collect some tablecloths and toss them. They are disposable so we aren’t keeping them. After that, we got tables we are loading up in the trucks nearby. Don’t wear yourself out though! Just a couple would be a great start and you can leave whenever you want.”

“Ok, will do. This was an amazing event by the way.”

Shuri laughs with her tongue out, as she brushes her shoulders off, “I does what I can!”

Collecting the tablecloths you think about how beyond her years Shuri appears to be. The girl is a teenager, but is of course so smart and has a great business-head on her shoulders. Plus it was so cute to hear her talking shit with her accent; she really was down! You wanted to be her when you got your life together.

With all of the tablecloths disposed of, you head to tipping a table and getting it folded.

“Eh! My sister has you working now?” T’Challa comes out of nowhere, reaching to fold the legs down.

“No, I volunteered! I wasn’t doing anything else so…”

T’Challa raises the table on its side, walking the table to the truck. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. There was a lot of behind the scenes stuff that I had to help with that was...unexpected.”

You nod, quiet. You couldn’t hide your disappointment. “I still saw a lot though, escorted on not. This place was hopping with shit to do.”

T’Challa steps in front of you, grasping your chin, eyes locked on you suddenly. Your insides jump at the anticipation of what was to come from his touch.

He turns your head slightly to the left, studying your art, “Ahhh, a purple flower. It almost resembles the Heart Shaped Herb from back home.”

Your pace steadies as you realize his intentions. “Yeah? I just wanted something pretty and purple and boom! There it is.”

T’Challa nods, licking his lips as he studies your face. Letting go, he say, “Let me make it up to you. We could get some dinner...or a movie.” You contemplate the options. “Or both? We could really paint the town if you want, so we can catch up.” He says softly caressing your painted cheek. Your center began to throb again. T’Challa was always making it impossible to think clearly when he is talking about completely normal things but not giving you any room to breath. If it weren’t for the people around, you would press up on him right now; that’s what you wanted to do!

“Both is good,” you squeak out before moving away to go back to get another table. You walked with a bounce to ensure he would have a show as you walked away.

T’Challa had three tables down as you had just finished folding your one. Walking it back to the truck, your foot hits a hole in the ground you didn’t see. You lose your balance as you try to hold the table, but it sends you off kilter even more. A sharp pain shoots through your ankle as you land, the table plops on top of you.

You yelp in pain as you try to push the table off and not move your leg. Suddenly the table is clear off of you and you see T’Challa over you, face riddled with worry.

“(Y/N), are you ok? Where are you hurt?” He asks, kneeling and holding your head in his hands.

You point down to your leg. “My ankle! God!”

Shuri has come over to look it over. She presses something on her bracelet causing a stream of light to cascade over your swelling foot. Your skeletal make up in your ankle is revealed for a short period.

“What is that?” you ask, having never seen that kind of technology.

Ignoring you, Shuri says, “It isn’t broken, thank Bast. We can’t handle an OSHA case right now, right brother?” Shuri jabs him, chuckling. T’Challa’s returned expression snaps her back to a professional tone. “Like I said, not broken, just sprained so she needs to lay off of it a while: wrap it, ice it, the works.” She instructs as she heads back to her duties.

T’Challa nods, “Ok, come (Y/N). I’ll take you home.”

You didn’t protest this time. Your ankle hurt like hell, so a free ride couldn’t hurt. T’Challa reaches your arm around his shoulders and reaches his arm under your knees to lift you.

“Whoa, whoa! I don’t like that. Please, I’ll hop.” you say.

T’Challa looks at you incredulously, “It will be faster if I carried you.”

Your body tenses up, “Come on, I don’t wanna...weigh you down or whatever. Please, this is embarrassing enough.”

T’Challa bats his eyes realizing the problem, “Do you think I cannot lift you?”

You lean your head back, mortified. “I know you are strong, I can tell. But I’m a sturdy gal, I’m just trying to warn you.”

T’Challa sucks his teeth, going at lifting you again. You close your eyes tightly as your weight becomes nothing in his arms. You feel the bounce of his stride as you peak to see you are in motion. T’Challa looks ahead, no signs of strain, he looks at you and winks. Your cat could meow with how good he was making you feel right now showing off himself. You hadn’t been lifted since grade school, and your current boo does it like you are a toddler. God bless it.

T’Challa puts you down a moment to get the door to his Lexus open. T’Challa takes your hands as you slowly sit down, folding your legs in, careful to not bump your ankle against the door.

“How are you feeling?” T’Challa asks, resting his hand on your knee, eyes wide with concern.

You nod, “I’m good, don’t worry.” You cup the side of his face, causing him to lean his face into your palm. He turns to kiss your palm before getting up to close your door and make his way to the drivers’ side.

Starting the engine, he asks, “Alright, now what is your address?” as he searches for the GPS program in his dash. You give it to him, praying to God Tavia hadn’t made it home yet.

Once you guys are on the road, T’Challa reaches over for one of your hands in your lap. “Are you still ok?”

“Yeah, more than. Thanks, by the way, for the ride.”

“Ahh, don’t thank me. It’s the least I could do. You were such a big help today.” T’Challa says gripping your hand a little tighter.

“Hardly! I took down two tables and almost broke an ankle. Plus we won’t be able to go out tonight cuz of me.” You say disappointedly.

“If I was by your side like I said I would, there would be known of these issues to begin with.” T’Challa takes your hand, kissing the back of it.

You almost forget your ankle when he warms you up like that. A man admitting fault was a big turn on, you had to admit. And you loved how affectionate he was, without pressure; just enough. Looking at your ankle you remember something from earlier, “What was that device Shuri used? It was like a portable X-Ray device?”

T’Challa nods slowly, “Precisely what it was. Shuri developed it in her lab in Wakanda and it’s been pretty vital to our village.”

You think on this, “Wow, you guys have a lot more to you than I imagined. It’s beautiful.”

T’Challa smirks, “The Western media would make you think we are impoverished but we have handled ourselves without outside help, and I think that says something.” Your mind was churning with so many other questions but before you knew it, you guys made it your your place.

Luckily you all have an elevator, so T’Challa only carried you, without hesitation, to the elevator then your door. Setting you down, you get your keys together to find the one for your door.

“Umm, once I get inside, I should be able to manage if you need to make it back to the park.” you say nervously.

“Oh, they wouldn’t miss one person, I think. If it’s comfortable with you, I want to check your ankle once more before I head back, though.” He looks at you with a serious expression.

You nod, turning to the door to hide your excitement. As you open the door, the apartment is dark and quiet, so Tavia must be having a good night. Turning on the lights, you start hobbling to the couch. T’Challa doesn’t miss a beat, ducking under your arm to support you as you sit down.

T’Challa takes a couple decorative pillows and props them under your ankle, lightly inspecting it.

“Well it doesn’t look worse, which is good. Do you have little baggies and ice?”

You nod and point, “The fridge makes it, yeah. And the drawer under the microwave should have some lunch bags to fill.”

T’Challa gets to work, Macgyvering an ice bag for you. As you lay back, you catch yourself smelling like the outside, and instantly get embarrassed. You can’t get comfortable when you’re funky anyway, plus T’Challa would help you hobble around so might as well use him while he is here.

“Uh, T’Challa, can you hold off on the bag for a second. I need to go to my room, if you can spare your shoulders.” you ask.

“All the more for you to lean on, umhle.” T’Challa says lovingly, as you direct him to the right room. “It’s nice to see how you live on a daily basis. You keep a nice home.” T’Challa says as you reach your room.”

“My roommate gets most of the decorating credit, I gotta say. I do tell her when to reel it in though, so points for creative direction goes to moi.”

As you step into your room, you declare, “So I need to shower, cuz yikes.” You say sniffing yourself. “But did you want to stick around or….”

“I would love to!” He answers a little quicker than necessary. “No problem at all. Do you want me to order something? We could still have our dinner here.”

“Yes! Good idea. Let’s just do a pizza, from that local spot we passed.”

“I am well aware of it. Excellent choice.” He takes his phone out as you get a change of clothes and head for the bathroom.

In the shower you give yourself a pep talk. You are a goddess, queen! With your prince out there lying in wait for this body. He wants ALLADIS, sis! Don’t get nervous, or shy. If you run out of things to talk about, hey, you are on a bed, fill in the blanks. Damn, Tavia really got into you.

You lather your body in berry scents as you rinse, giving yourself a towel off and quick moisturization. You picked some shorts and a baby doll tank to wear. Still pajamas, but with a hint of lingerie appeal. Opening the door you step out to see T’Challa flipping through the TV channels. His head cranes in your direction.

“I didn’t think I’d smell something so heavenly until the pizza arrived.” He says smiling, eyes darting down your body.

“Haha, good one.” You say limping to the bed, sitting back.

“Was it too….”

“Don’t!”

“....cheesy?” T’Challa says scrunching his nose.

You slap his back with an audible thud. He holds takes your calf, placing it on his lap to ice with the bag he made earlier. The cool sensation was relieving, making you moan audibly. You bite your lip when you realize how comfortable you were getting.

T’Challa massages your calf as he holds the bag on your ankle, “Does that relieve you, umhle?”

You nod before answering, “Yeah, it does. Keep doing it.” You say, your vocal cords suddenly laced with honey as your voice dips seductively.

T’Challa rubs your calf some more. “I told you it is nice to have something soft to rest my hands on.” studying your leg as he goes.

You could’ve jumped out of your skin with that comment. So he DID know the double entendre, sly devil!

You chuckle trying to keep from freaking out before saying, “I’m pretty soft just out the shower though, don’t be fooled. Takes a lot to maintain.” You make a face behind T’Challa at your words. Snatching an insult out of the jaws of a compliment, nice.

“You make it look effortless.” he says looking up at you. “You think you could lend me some products?” he says showing all those beautiful teeth to you.

You smile into your chest shaking your head. “You can have whatever you like. But you have to follow the steps or you’ll just be a mess!”

T’Challa squints at you, “Eh? What process are you talking about?”

You swallow, hoping this doesn’t go over his head, “Well, you are on the right track practically. I like to start with my calves, very important. But I have so much more leg to go.”

T’Challa nods slowly, appearing to understand. “I see, so then we go to…” His hand hovers above your thigh. You shiver in anticipation, “The knee!” planting his hand on your kneecap.

You guffaw, “Right! Can’t neglect ashy knees! True! Then what, Chacha?”

He looks at your knee quizzically like its a jigsaw to solve, “The only way to go is the…” and without a word he snakes his hand up your thigh. You bite your lip, elevating your hips under his touch.

T’Challa tucks his lips as he notices your movement, “Is your reaction normal for the process?” he asks as his voice has caught the honey coated timbre of seduction as well. His eyes glaze over, looking from your face to your body, mouthslightly agape to the treats he will hopefully be soon to receive.

His hands grip both your thighs, one working inner, the other outer; his long hands encompass the surface area of your thickness easily. Your walls start to talk back to you, awaiting their turn for a massage.

“When it’s done right, yeah.” you say, unafraid at this point. You pull T’Challa’s face into yours, gripping the back of head. The kiss starts off as your regular ones do, only once did T’Challa try to slip tongue, but you go into a schoolgirl giggle fit when he had. This time was different, there was no ‘will he, won’t he’ because you were both on the same page. Your mouths opened simultaneously to welcome each other in. T’Challa moves your leg away gently as the ice bag falls to the floor. One of his hands grips your booty cheek, spreading it about like dough. You felt the spread in your lips as you moaned against his mouth, gripping his back to wrestle his shirt up, feeling the warmth of his skin.

You lean back on the bed as T’Challa hovers over you, sucking your neck; the sounds sensations of his lips against you could make you climax on its own. Then he got the nerve to pepper your collarbone and chest area with kisses, gripping your titties up like the were ripe for the picking.

“I have been wanting to explore your body for weeks.” He says suckling on your neck in between. “You can’t imagine the torture I have sustained to remain respectful.”

You shiver at this confession. All the feelings you had and that he gave you were mutual. “I think I can, ‘Challa. I feel it, 10 times more.”

You hadn’t gotten this far before, and it was becoming overwhelming for you. You either had to stop or get it in. Reaching for the button of his pants, you were shooting for the latter. T’Challa freezes above you as he watches your hands undo his pants. His breathing is heavily laden as you work the fly down to relieve his growing protrusion.

T’Challa begins to ask, “Umhle, are you sure-” before there is a knock on the front door.

You instantly dry up as you forgot the pizza was on the way, dropping your hands frustratedly. T’Challa rests his head on your shoulder a moment, before unmounting you to gain his composure on the side of the bed.

You don’t see his face but an awkward amount of time passes before you sit up. “I’ll get the door...”

T’Challa waves his hand in protest, “No, you rest your ankle, I’ve got it, I just...need time.” He gets up, buckling and zipping his pants as he walks outside. You cross your arms in wait, thinking about what almost happened. You would have to take another shower with all the preheating he did to your oven.

T’Challa stands at the door with the box in his hand. “Did you want to eat in here?”

He looked at you like a lost puppy. You weren’t sure what he was thinking of, but you figured the moment between you both has passed for now.

You nod, patting the bed. “Yeah, nothing fancy here. Come on.”

T’Challa sits on the edge of the other side, placing the box between you both. He picks up the ice bag to place on your ankle once more, patting your leg like cattle this time.

The fresh smells makes your stomach churn as you remember how hungry you were, grabbing a slice; T’Challa takes one as well, taking a big bite. You turn the TV to one of your tried and true comedies to binge. As the canned laughter fills your room, you look over to T’Challa looking like he is about ready to doze off.

“T’Challa?” you call to him.

His eyes flutter open as he looks to you, a lazy smile spreads across his face. “I’m sorry, umhle. I’m more tired than I thought before.” He gets up to stretch, joints popping, groaning with relief.

“You can sleep over if you want...just sleeping, you know. You’re tired, I’m tired, let’s just...sleep.” you say rambling. You wanted to make sure there was no pressure to spontaneously perform again.

T’Challa leans over the bed kissing you on the side of your face. “You would take in a lost Wakandan to lay his head at your residence?”

You give him a defiant look, “I didn’t say the whole village, now. Just you!” You both laugh as he takes the pizza box and sets it on your table.

“Plus my ankle has felt much better since you been here.” You tell him as if he needed further convincing. He climbs in next to you, resting his head on you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Then let’s dream for a speedy recovery.” He says sleepily.

You feel his hand rub your side gently, slowing up until he goes to sleep. The hum of his breathing sounds so sweet to you as you close your eyes to listen to its melody. Turning off the TV, you shimmy down to lay next to him, stirring T’Challa only a little, who adjusts to pull you in for spooning as you call it a night. You thought about how wild the night progressed but you still wouldn’t change a minute of it. His arms beat the panther plushie you have been hugging on any day.

Morning rays flood your room as the sun woke you up. You start to stretch and jerk with alarm when you feel him around you still. You forgot for a second he stayed with you. Adjusting your titties back in your shirt, you hear him waking up behind you as well.

“Mmm, is it morning already?” T’Challa groaned.

“It is, Chacha.” You look back at him, eyes still squinting awake but smiling at nonetheless. “Do you want to do breakfast?” you ask turning to face him.

T’Challa rubs your back as he replies, “I wish I could. But I have to get back to the center to debrief about yesterday’s festivities. It’s already-” he looks at his watch. “9:30 am. I’ll be there around noon, so I’ll go home and freshen up first.”

You whine at his plans, rubbing his chest for coaxing, “I don’t want you to go yet…”

His forehead meets yours, “How about I order you breakfast to enjoy in my absence and we make a date for my place next week?” He looks at you for a reply.

You wipe some sleep out of his eye before answering, “I guess that sounds good.” You exchange smiles before pecking a kiss on each other.

Suddenly music blasts from the living room. Tavia has been on a workout kick that requires a trap soundtrack to stay motivated.

T’Challa winces at the noise, “And we can be free from interruptions...” He twirls a wayward twist in your hair. “Completely free to do...anything.”

You squeeze your thighs at the thought before squirming away to get up. “I’d like that, T’Challa. Let me walk you out.”

Opening your bedroom door, you see Tavia hopping from one side of the room to the other. She sees you come out.

“Hey girl! Listen, when I’m done, let’s do a brunch thing or somethin! I’m starving and got some stories for you!” After one rotation she looks back at you for reply, by now noticing T’Challa. Tavia stops in her tracks, pausing her video.

“Tavia, this is T’Challa.” You make faces, pointing at Tavia from behind him as he walks over to her.

“Nice to meet a friend of (Y/N)’s. I have heard wonderful things.”

“Same here...T’Cha...lla.” Tavia says dumbfounded. You give her a thumbs up.

You and T’Challa walk over to the front door going outside to kiss each other goodbye once more before closing the door.

You and Tavia look at each other in silence for a second before bursting out in shrieks and giggles, jumping around.

“That’s my BITCH! I see you with that morning after glow on you! Talk to me, tell me something GOODT!”

You guys park on the couch before you start, “Ok, so first things first, we didn’t sleep together; like we literally just slept.”

Tavia instantly checked out. “Oh HELL NO! Did he go down on you at least?”

You shake your head.

“Come ON, B! Well what the fuck is there to talk about?? How is he here in the morning but not for getting it in. You need to swipe your card before it expires!”

“It doesn’t expire, hoe! And I’m more than ready to swipe it, cash it, turn it in to the authorities, but if you let me tell the story-”

A knock raps on the door. You both look at each other confused before you get up to answer. Peeping through the hole, you see a delivery man, you think.

Opening the door, the man holds two sacks to you.

“Delivery, miss!”

“We didn’t order anything…” You say looking to Tavia.

The delivery man looks at the receipt. “A….Ms. Macchiato?”

The name rings bells. T’Challa said he would order breakfast for you, but you forgot to turn it down.

Tavia comes up behind you, “What is it?”

“T’Challa got us breakfast,” you say taking the bags and thanking him.

“Bish whet?? Gimme gimme gimme!”

Tavia rips open a bag to see the omelettes, hashbrowns, toast, boiled eggs, sausage, bacon.

Another knock comes to the door. You jump to get it.

“Here are the drinks too, Miss.” the delivery man huffs and puffs.

“Oh thank you!” you reply taking the OJ and apple juice cups.

Tavia is tearing through her spinach omelette when she says, “Ok, I’m ready to hear it. What freaky shit you put on him to do alladis??”

Part 5

Other Works

King Kil’mawalls

T’akia

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others

Song of Stevens

Commencement Day

Wakanda Got Y’all

My Ragtag

@sweetpeachjones@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@hairhattedghooligan@universalbri @therevolution-willbelive@you-like-this-chain @sarcastic-sunshines@airis-paris14 @afraiddreamingandloving @kreolemami @lalapalooza718 @syreanne

No mans land Tags

afraiddreamingandloving groovybbyy and nyeebey, yall here too! I just can’t tag you for some reason <3</p>

#t'challa fanfic #t'challa x reader #t'challa x you #coffeeshop au #black panther au #black panther fanfic #marvel fanfiction #shakafic #fanfic

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