#i think ill tag my ocs as that! 'burrito's ocs'

[kirishwima]

Brief OC list and info bc I plan to talk about them more frequently~

I’ll seperate them by fandoms/Universes :D

BNHA:

* Ayrinn and Leo: They’re both UA high students, Ayrinn has a mermaid/siren quirk, she’s a real sweet gentle girl and people at school nickname her the ‘Ocean princess’. Leo has a cat-quirk, and is a bit of a wild card, an absoloute chaotic neutral. She’s got the biggest crush on Ayrinn but refuses to admit it lol

* Hoshiki and Kaida: These are the kiribaku twins from my fic ‘Endings Beginnings’ , they’re Kirishima and Bakugou’s kids. Hoshiki is a shy gentle little boy, whilst Kaida is a fiery little girl with an explosive and bubbly personality.

* Toshi: Toshi is Todoroki and Midoryia’s kid, named after All Might. They’re really close friends with the twins, especially with Hoshiki. They’re an absoloute chaotic little thing, with Todoroki’s deadpan humor and Midoryia’s self-sacrificing traits lol

MYSTIC MESSENGER:

* Gin: Gin’s my mysme girl, she’s 23 years old, has a twin brother and an older brother, and that’s about as far as her family extends to. In my AU she ends up with Seven since that’s who her personality best fits with, but she also becomes really close friends with Zen.

* Keith: Gin’s twin brother, they’ve been raised in an orphanage until they were around 10, when their older brother’s family adopted them. He’s pretty much inseperable from his twin sister, since they’ve been through a lot together. He’s a really quiet, grumpy kind of guy lol

* Alexis: Keith and Gin’s older brother. His parents adopted the twins and he soon became the best big brother, always caring for the two kids. He’s 6 years older than them, and when their parents passed away, he immediatly adopted a fatherly role towards the twins, even though they were all adults when it happened. Just a really sweet caring guy really

OTHER UNIVERSE/INDEPENDANT FROM FANDOMS:

* Matt and Jay: Some of my oldest OCs, Jay is a little menace of a person, really guarded and closed off. He ran away from home as a teen and ended up stumbling at the coffee shop/bar Matt works at when he was 19. He started working there and Matt soon fell for Jay, and helped him break down his walls. Matt’s a tall, big awkward guy, but he doesn’t have a single mean bone in his body, he’s just a teddy bear full of love to share :’)

* Alice: My oldest OC, they’re an Absoloute Little Shit. They’re blind, but can make out vague shapes at most; either way this doesn’t hinder them, they’re a really go-with-the-flow kind of person. They’re grumpy and angry over something almost constantly, but are a fiercly loyal friend. They can always be bribed with pizza (the more toppings on it the better). 

* Oscar: Alice’s cousin and the only person they honestly get along with. He’s a very patient gentle guy, a couple years younger than Alice. He’s really shy so he doesn’t have many friends, and well, with someone like Alice constantly hanging out around him it’s hard to make any really lmao. He doesn’t mind though; he’s happy to have the people he already has around him.

* Arthur: He’s the OC I talk the least about tbh, because...well honestly I forgot about him for a while lmao. Arthur’s an alien, but after observing Earth all through his childhood, he came to love humanity and decided to try intermingling with them. So he came down to Earth when he was (in human years) 15, and has just been vibing with us since then. He camouflages himself as an angelic-looking teen with big blue eyes and fluffy blonde hair, but if you pull up the bangs over his forehead, you’ll notice he has a third eye in the middle of his forehead, something he can’t camouflage. He has a couple odd powers, and he’s insanely gullible, but overall a sweet caring kid lol.

* Angie/AJ; My newest OC! Angie was your average teen, when one summer when she was 16, she went on a camping trip with her friends. Your cliche horror trope happened, and a killer chased them all, killing her friends one by one until she was the only one left. With her wits, she managed to trap and kill the murderer. She never got over it, and growing up she vowed to clean the world of all shitty people....so she ended up becoming a serial killer herself. She looks real sweet and innocent at first glance, which is how she’s able to fool her victims. (She’s inspired by this song tbh)

* Alex (Spy girl) and Georgie (Hacker girl): Also OCs I haven’t developed very well, but long story short Alex and Georgie work in an undercover organisation where the less questions you ask the better. Alex is a field agent, working missions and asassinations, whilst Georgie is her girl-in-the-chair; a brilliant hacker that uses her skills to make sure Alex makes it through her missions safely and successfully. The two are dating, although Alex can get really posessive and over-protective over Georgie sometimes; Georgie can’t blame her though-no one working in their line of work is ever 100% sane, now are they? Georgie’s as sweet as can be, but she hides a menace, whilst Alex just lets all her emotions show, even if they can change as quickly as the wind.

I’ll be updating this post with any more OCs I may have (which trust me...I do lmao, I’m just still working on naming & developing plenty of them), so if you’d ever like to talk about/ask anything about my OCs, you can find their names and some info here!

P.S: Please...do talk to me about them ill love you forever lol ;-;

[fuwafuwagem]

Crossfire

Chapters: 4/10 Rating: Explicit (eventually) Relationships: Dabi/OC Additional Tags: Alcohol, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers

Read it on Ao3 here  

Chapter Four: The Good Stuff

The deserted playground was as good a place as any for drinking in the fresh night air. Dabi sat on a swing, nursing the whisky bottle as though it were his only child. Hoshiko sat on the swing beside him, her glare penetrating his temple.

“I’m saving you from yourself, y’know,” he growled when her scowl finally became more than he could tolerate. “You clearly can’t handle your liquor.”

“I can handle it,” Hoshiko hissed. “I just can’t keep up with your pace. You drink that stuff like it’s juice!”

Dabi snorted his laughter and took a swig straight from the bottle. “Ooh, it really is the good stuff,” he said with a wide grin. “This would definitely be wasted on you.”

Hoshiko reached out to grab the bottle, but Dabi hopped off the swing and rounded the set so he could stand behind her.

“I’ll push you. If you can manage to not throw up, I’ll share it with you.”

“What the–? I’m the one who’s sharing with you!”

Still, despite her protests, Hoshiko gripped the chains of the swing, full of determination, and Dabi pushed her. She kicked her legs out as she reached the peak, then curled them back as she swung back towards Dabi, and he pushed her again. She swung higher and higher, hooting with childlike joy, while Dabi cheered her on.

“You’re gonna go over the bar if you get any higher!” he yelled, but he continued to push her, smiling widely at her shrieks of excitement.

“Have I won, Dabi?” she squealed. “I think I might have won a taste of the good stuff!”

Dabi laughed as he slowed the swing to a stop. “Yeah,” he whispered into her ear as he caught his breath. “You won, Hoshiko. I really didn’t think you would.”

Hoshiko beamed at him as she grabbed the bottle and took a long gulp. “Damn, that feels warm going down,” she said, then started coughing as the heat filled her chest.

Dabi patted her head and chuckled. “Warm going down? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hoshiko’s fist balled and she punched him in the arm, but without any real malice. “You’re an ass, Dabi, but that was fun. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that.”

Dabi smiled. If he were being honest, neither could he. There had been nothing but a burning, roiling, resentment building in him for as long as he could remember. It had only been since he’d started spending more time with Hoshiko that he recalled that he could even feel other emotions. Not that he would tell her any of that. The feelings he was having would remain between him and the good stuff that he snatched back from the only person he considered a friend. He lifted the bottle to his lips, then felt something cold hit his cheek.

“Oh no,” groaned Hoshiko. She grabbed Dabi’s hand as he pulled his hood over his hair, and they sprinted to find shelter as the rain began to pour down from the darkly clouded sky.

He didn’t know where they were going, but Hoshiko dragged him along to an apartment complex and pulled him inside as she fished a jangling set of keys from her pocket.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” she sighed.

Inside wasn’t much to look at, with plain-looking walls and basic furniture. Still, it was dry and warm, and Dabi peeled off his soaking wet jacket as Hoshiko went to grab a pair of towels. They rubbed their hair dry, but Dabi’s clothes were still sopping wet.

“Hmm, I could lend you something to wear until your clothes are dry,” said Hoshiko, “but be warned; it’s not going to fit whatever the hell aesthetic you’ve currently got going on.”

Dabi shrugged.

“Okay, the fire’s on in the living room. Go warm up.”

Dabi obeyed, standing in front of the fireplace. He wanted to sit, but his clothes were still soaked through. He unfastened his belt and kicked off his trousers, before removing his white shirt, that was practically see-through at this point. He shivered and crouched down before the warming orange flames.

“Oh!” Hoshiko gasped as she walked into the room to find Dabi in his underwear.

He smirked. “Well, I figured there was only one reason you’d drag me home with you like this. Figured I’d get things started.”

Hoshiko rolled her eyes and threw some clean clothes at him: a pair of black cotton leggings, and an oversized hoodie with cat paws at the cuffs and ears on the hood.

“Is this … a joke?” Dabi asked, staring at the garments in disbelief.

“It is not,” Hoshiko confirmed. “I did warn you though. I’ll go hang your clothes up so they can dry. Just put them on so you don’t get ill.”

Dabi breathed deeply, swallowed his pride, and squeezed himself into the leggings, then slipped the hoodie on with ease. It was comfy, but still mildly traumatising.

“Cute,” giggled Hoshiko when she returned. She had also changed into a pair of spotted purple pyjamas. “Can I take a picture?”

“No.”

While he sat and fumed, Dabi heard the clink of glasses, and was soon handed a shot of the good stuff. Hoshiko sat beside him, warming her toes in front of the fire while holding her own drink, the half-empty bottle within easy reach.

“I wanted to ask you something,” said Dabi, and reached to pluck the pink strand of hair that Hoshiko always tried so hard to hide. “This streak seems a little out of character. There must be a story behind it.”

Hoshiko released a loud groan. “There is, though not much of one.” She took a sip of whisky. “When I was in school, I was obviously bullied for being the quirkless freak. But there was this one girl, and she never said anything mean to me. Never defended me, either, but she wasn’t actively horrible. She also had this cool quirk. She could permanently change the colour of anything. Last I heard, she’s working for a fashion company. They are really high quality. Bright colours that never run. She’s pretty in demand within the industry. Anyway, back in school, I was going through my dark and moody phase. I wanted to dye my hair black, and I figured I’d ask her if she could do it for me. Then it would stay black forever.”

“Oh, I see where this is going,” Dabi said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, well, the bitch coloured this strand bright pink,” Hoshiko growled, still clearly raw over the whole event. “I can’t dye it. If I cut it, it just grows back pink. It’s permanently pink, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I was so furious that I punched her in the face and got expelled.” Hoshiko shrugged. “It’s all been downhill from there.”

Dabi laughed and knocked back his drink. “That’s too funny. The curse of the pink streak.”

“It is a curse,” whined Hoshiko. “It totally killed my aesthetic. I didn’t leave the house for a month after it happened. I had to change my whole hairstyle just to hide it.”

Dabi tugged at the strand. “Maybe you should embrace the pink.”

“I’ll embrace it when I’m dead,” she hissed. She slapped Dabi’s hand and tucked the rogue strand back into hiding. “For now, it stays buried.”

Dabi shrugged, then stifled a yawn. “The fire’s making me feel drowsy. I’m gonna nod off.”

Hoshiko reached back and pulled a blanket from the sofa they both leaned against. “I don’t mind if you sleep over. Your clothes should be dry by the morning. You can have the sofa. I’m going to head to bed.”

With that, Dabi wrapped the blanket around himself and shuffled onto the sofa.

Hoshiko chuckled as she watched him quickly drift off. He looked like a mildly burnt burrito, but kind of cute. With a soft sigh, she took herself off to bed.

[cnidocyst]

Tagged by: @lesbiansockhead​ (I ALMOST FORGOT U TAGGED ME ND DIDNT DO THIS) 

Rules: Answer 21 questions and tag 21 people you would like to get to know better! (as if)

Nickname: No self appointed ones, sometimes my mom and siblings call me Double D or JD/Jason Dean 

Real name: Jason (middle name is in fact NOT dean) 

zodiac: capricorn 

Favorite musicians or groups: cant stop listening to lemon demon rn PLEASE help. in all seriousness some music artists ive been really fond of lately include Three Days Grace, The Killers, Fun., Kimya Dawson, They Might Be Giants, The Fratellis, Skillet, Oasis, Ninja Sex Party, etc etc etc

Favorite sports team: whatever team those basketball playing rats are on amiright

Other blogs: im up to 4 ed edd n eddy sideblogs(mundane-ededdneddy-headcanons, ededdneddy-artrefs, dirty-ededdneddy-confessions, and now tiny-ededdneddy-details which i havent posted to yet so dont look), an oc blog (jason-mcqs-ocs), and a warrior cat design blog i keep forgetting to update (warrior-catoonz)

Do i get asks: Yes but usually they’re submissions for the hc blog. Been getting dirty confession asks again thank yall ill get to them eventually 

How many blogs do I follow: 552

Tumblr crushes: idk the difference btween “i wanna be ur friend” and crush status so :/// 

lucky numbers: sorry i dont speak virgin

What I am wearing: a black t shirt with the Colts logo and black sweatpants

Dream vacation: i like beaches except for the hot part

Dream car: electric 

Favorite food: BURRITOS also chips w red pepper hummus

Drink of choice: coffee 

Instruments: i tried to self teach myself the keyboard a while back but that didnt go anywhere. would love to go back to it bcause then i could bust out shitty meme songs or somethin. creative skills are for funny and annoyance

Languages: english but should really expand i know 

Celebrity crushes: idk man bernie sandals is pretty cute >///<

Random facts: god fuck idk, i can name all eene episodes in order in couple minutes time(something only i think is cool) and my friends tease me for having long toes(i do not) 

(i feel bad when i tag people bcause i dont wanna bother them!! but if u wanna do this u can copy paste and tag me anyways like i tagged u i wouldnt mind seeing) 

[solivcgant]

6969 👀| send me a number and ill make a post about you

can you believe... even though we have been mutuals for awhile and all that. we don’t have a PROPER thread????? people seeing us talking and answering memes for each other must be like development where???? and honestly thats how it really be like for a lot of interactions i have. because i’m so.. busy at times and then lazy when i finally have time to reply.. so i just opt on plotting through ims or discord. 

                          BUT!!!! 2020 it’s time to change that!!! maybe. 

im cry bc i wanted to find a meme that i could talk about with you. and i scrolled so far... that i saw your original potato king icon. the spud throne and the potato specter. when you matched my horrible sense of humor i KNEW we’d get along. and look at us now. memeing our way into the new decade

i ABSOLUTELY love liv and eiji’s friendship??? bc they’re so comfortable around each other and honestly sometimes eiji just needs time to play his games in silence. which liv allows even if she grudgingly steals his bed and wraps herself up in as a burrito. but also. a thing to consider. eiji inviting liv over bc he knows she isn’t sleeping properly. so he pretends to be so absorbed with gaming to the point that liv HAS to go to sleep?? bc she could be in the background showing off her cosplay outfits our speaking in italian for the language lessons.. but, she’s gotta get some sleep first. 

                                            but really, HMMMM???

but also omg. i love that you appreciate all my random dog memes. like it can be out of context and not part of the initial conversation. or just me popping in after a week like “HELLO LOOK AT MY MEMES.” and opening my trench coat to show off all the dog memes that i collected. im-- i should be banned.

anyway. i want to explore more of live and eiji’s friendship dynamic. like angst??? bc liv has got some BAGGAGE my dude. but also the soft moments like liv knitting holiday sweaters for eiji to wear???? eiji tagging along with liv to cosplay events bc he’s curious why she invests so much time and money. and when they get there he’s just OVERWHELMED 

                bc omg the 2d girls he had a crush on are suddenly real. shhh.

this ending up being me gushing about liv and eiji. and not about you. so time to turn the tables on myself. your drawings are so amazing!! remember when you were showing your oc’s designs and i was like oof eiji’s dead. bc really. he would be dead if that oc interacted with him. he’d just stop functioning and look at her all ‘wow.’

and i still can’t forget the little cheering jumping liv animation that you made? i think.. that might have been the start of friendship??? me gushing inthe comments like “asfkjns so cute” so something. which isn’t something i normally would do with mutuals that i’m not close with??? bc i’ll feel very weird thinking we’re close only to have the other mun be like ‘k thanks lol’. and then there’s me going ‘ooooh-kay that’s awkward bye’ and then i go inactive for a week to move blogs and change my alias.

 but you didn’t do that. and i’m so glad. since now we get to be meme buds. i wish you nothing but the best and i hope we can get eiji and liv to interact this year!! bc the dash needs to be blessed with their friendship B)

another thing to think about: the liv burrito while eiji is streaming. eiji waiting for the game to load or something and casually pans to liv for a secondl like ‘ no italian lessons today, sensei is asleep’

eiji can either be a really great friend, or he can be that ANNOYING worst friend. there is no in-between ubu

[writingismyhappytime]

Dauntless: Daddy Dearest (Part 5)

Eric x OC

Warnings: Language, parenting angst

A/N: I think the panicked expressions on Eric’s face are incredibly accurate for this series lol also, if you want to be tagged in any dauntless updates, let me know! I don’t always post consecutively, sometimes there might be a few weeks in between chapters, and I don’t want anyone to miss out! Don’t forget to check the masterlist for the rest of my Dauntless, and where all parts of this series are tagged.

   I leaned over the crib, watching the infant sleeping in his blue blankets. Camille had him wrapped up like a burrito, still wearing his little blue hat, his face scrunched in his sleep. It was late, I'd just gotten in, but I'd wanted to check on him before I went to bed.

It felt... weird.

Really, my day wasn't any different --- I left early, came back late, the same time every day. Now instead of just Camille greeting me with a nasty look or a sweet kiss, there's also screaming.

So, not too different.

The baby didn't stir much, just moved his mouth occasionally, made some baby sounds. At that moment, my kid was just a screaming, pooping bundle. He's only a week old, so I guessed it would be a while before he had any personality, did anything other then lay there.

I sighed as I straightened, seeing a few strands of dark hair against his forehead, curling upwards against the hat. His hair looked black like Camille's, but I was kind of hoping he kept my blue eyes; someone had said baby's eyes change colors after they get so old, but I hoped his didn't.

Kai.

I'm a little surprised Camille so readily accepted the name, maybe she was just glad I picked something. We'd been fighting over that the last few months longer then we had anything else. I was just glad all that stress was over.

I stepped away from the crib, silently leaving the room and leaving the door only cracked. I hesitantly popped my head into the bedroom, seeing Camille was safely tucked beneath the covers, sleeping soundly. I felt bad about leaving her with the baby all day, but one of us had to be out there working.

New initiates would be coming in soon, maybe another month, and by then Kai should be old enough to go to the daycare in the Pit. I'd take him there myself every day if I had to, if it made Camille feel better about leaving him. I guessed it was a mother thing, being so attached to the thing she carried for nine months.

I shut the door, grimacing. I'd let her sleep, I'd hear the baby if he started wailing.

So far, there'd been a few congratulations for the baby, a snarky message from Melanie, and Max had clapped me awkwardly on the back before moving on. Tori had been over to see it, Camille said, and Zeke.

It's weird.

I felt like everything had shifted, that now that I had a kid, I... well, I was stupid as fuck. I shouldn't be worried about the fact having a kid would fuck up my reputation, but I was. Melanie was right, anyway, turning down leading the op was seriously going to fuck me over, and I knew she kept hoping I'd change my mind any minute now and take it, leave Camille and the baby to their own devices.

It was tempting.

I sat down on the couch, leaning forward to unlace my boots. I needed to get back out there, remind everyone that I wasn't going to take their shit, that having that kid in my life wasn't going to make me soft. It seemed stupid, even to me, but that's still how I felt. I knew Camille still wasn't feeling well, she was ill and pretty bitchy right now, but she was trapped in the apartment all day with the kid.

She needed some time off.

Hell, maybe I could send her to lead the op --- that would give her something to do and... no, I didn't want to be left alone with the baby. I'd only held it a few times, mostly when Camille begged me too because she was exhausted. It's been a week and I doubted she'd gotten eight hours of sleep yet.

The thing cried all the time!

I leaned up, running a hand along my stubbled jaw. I hadn't had time to shave in days, everything seemed so out of sorts lately. I hadn't felt the need to jump ship and run off yet, so I guessed that was a good sign.

Still, the thought of raising that kid --- I didn't want it to turn out like me. What if it turned out to be a big wimp though, defected to another faction?

Worse, what if it ended up becoming factionless? No kid of mine was gonna end up like one of those pathetic wastes of space! Hell, I didn't even want their to be factionless by the time he was old enough to choose!

Of course, he'd pick Dauntless, I'd make sure he grew up to be tough and a badass like me and his mother. We'd teach him all the tricks, show him the ropes --- he'd end up in leadership like us. He'd be the top of his class, I wouldn't accept any less!

No son of mine was going to end up a disgrace.

I'd chosen a strong name for him, now he better live up to it.

As if on cue, I heard him start to cry, at the top of his lungs just like every night.

Great.

I grimaced as I pushed to my feet, leaving my boots by the coffee table and hastily heading for the nursery. I nudged the door open, shutting it behind me so his cries wouldn't carry to Camille.

"Hey, kid," I muttered, stepping to his crib. "You hungry or somethin'?"

The baby's eyes opened for a few seconds at my voice before closing again, his face scrunching up as he let out another toothless scream. I sighed as I reached down, gingerly lifting the bundle into my arms, supporting his head like Camille showed me.

Where the fuck did she keep his milk, anyway? In the kitchen? I hoped it was already in the bottles and I could just shove it in the microwave or something.

It took me about five minutes longer then necessary to figure it out, especially with him wailing in my arms like he was dying. I ground my teeth together as I finally finagled the bottle into my hand, dripping the milk a few times on my arm to check the temperature like I'd seen Camille do.

Barely warm, that's how it's supposed to be right? I eyeballed the bottle a moment, hoped it was right, and popped the rubber thing between the kid's gums.

Almost immediately he began sucking on it, and I sighed in relief, my ears still ringing. Jeez, the kid had a set of lungs on him!

I gingerly sat back down, feeling awkward as I held the bottle up, his little arms too weak to do it yet. Feeding a baby definitely wasn't giving me any intimidation points, although at least it finally made him shut up.

I leaned my head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The kid was so small in my arms, smelling like powder and detergent, warm. I could hear him eating, and I was relieved he didn't wake Camille up --- she needed her rest.

Fuck, I needed some rest and I wasn't even taking care of him!

I rolled my neck, hearing my joints crack before looking down at my son. Seemed strange thinking that.

His eyes opened for a moment again, still that same bright blue as mine before drifting back shut. It would be a bit before he could keep them open, before he could be out of the serious straight jacket his mother kept him in. She also kept weird little socks on his hands so he wouldn't scratch himself, and I didn't see how he didn't get too warm.

I frowned, pressing the tips of my fingers against his small forehead, but he felt fine. Not too hot, just the right temperature.

Oh, and he's done.

I tugged the bottle out of his lips, seeing him smack them a little bit; he'd about drunk the whole thing, hungry kid. I shuffled, leaning him up a little, hoping I didn't need to do the whole burping thing; I was afraid I'd tap him on the back too hard, I'd break one of his little bones --- I was terrified of injuring my own kid.

I liked Camille doing all that.

When he didn't immediately begin wailing, or throw up all over me, I took it as a good sign. He'd already ruined one of my t shirts, causing Camille to just laugh at me, as if she wasn't even phased.

Probably wasn't.

"Alright, kiddo, let's get you back to bed so I can get some sleep," I muttered, his eyes scrunching as my thumb ran along his soft cheek. My hands felt gawky, too big and cumbersome when I was touching him. I knew my skin was rough, scars decorated my hands, but I hoped it didn't bother him. "Why don't you sleep for the rest of the night, give mama a break, huh?"

I shuffled, reluctantly getting to my feet again, still muttering to him as I headed for the nursery.

"You gotta grow up, be a badass like we are," I said, tugging some of his blankets around in the crib, making sure they were sort of bunched on either side of him so he couldn't roll around and smother himself. Camille had given me a full ranting rundown all of the bad things that could happen to our kid if I didn't do everything right. "Get big and tough and kick the shit out of your peers. Show them that being my kid is a major advantage."

I gently laid him back into the crib, leaning on the railing for a few minutes. I wanted to make sure he was breathing okay, that I didn't still need to burp him or something.

"I don't know if you're gonna have any brothers or sisters, so you have a lot to live up too." I mumbled, propping my chin on my hand. "You're carrying on a pretty prestigious name, you know that?

"Mama is always gonna be here for you when I can't, but I'm gonna teach you everything I can when I am around. You're gonna be the best fighter, the best soldier Dauntless has ever seen. And when I'm leading this faction, you'll never have to worry about anything."

I gazed down at him, seeing he was already asleep, blowing little spit bubbles. I refused to acknowledge I found it sort of cute, and I hastily turned away. If he was conked out, it meant I could get a shower and crawl into bed before one a.m. tonight.

Nice.

~~~~~~

"I can't believe he slept all night," Camille mumbled as she stood in front of the coffee pot, still half asleep. "That's a first."

Ahuh.

"He didn't." I muttered, leaning down to lace my boots, my fingers fumbling with the black laces. "I got him."

"You did?" Camille sent me a surprised look over her shoulder, her eyes not looking quite as tired this morning.

"Yeah. You needed some rest," I stood, stretching my arms over my head. "He only cried twice, don't worry. I fed him and figured out the diaper thing."

After four tries.

Not that I was going to tell her that.

"You didn't have to do that, you're going to be exhausted," she sighed, slowly pouring a cup of coffee before offering it to me. "I'm home all day, I can take care of him."

"I don't mind," I pressed a kiss to her temple as I took the cup. "You're exhausted. Maybe putting him in daycare a little early wouldn't be a bad idea, give you a break some days."

"No," Camille shook her head instantly, looking disgruntled. "I don't want to out him in until we have too."

"Are you still worried someone will be mean to him?" I sipped my coffee, barely noticing the harsh burn. I gazed at her, seeing the troubled look on her face.

"Yes and no." She eventually said, turning away from me to pour her own coffee into a glass cup. "I just... I dunno, I'm not ready to let someone else take care of him yet. I mean, what if they don't feed him or forget him somewhere? What if ---?"

"Camille, he's barely a week old. Don't panic yet," I hooked my finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up. "You have plenty of time to spend with him."

"Only sixteen years," she corrected me, soft lips almost pouting. "What if he chooses another faction and leaves us? What if ---?"

"Too many what ifs this morning," I shook my head at her, pressing a quick kiss against her lips before stepping away, noticing the time. "Don't worry about any of that. He'll be the toughest soldier Dauntless has ever seen, he'll be running this faction by the time he's ten."

"That's some high expectations," she looked amused.

"He's my son, he has a lot to live up too," I shrugged my shoulders. "Now I gotta go. You gonna be good?"

"More or less, I've survived worse then a screaming baby."

I chuckled, seeing her hands on her hips as I strode for the door. "I'll see you tonight."

"Alright."

~~~~~~

"Is she fucking up already?" I asked in annoyance, standing across the table from Max; he'd summoned me up here a few minutes ago, apparently something important was going down.

"Erudite is less then pleased with her progress," Max responded in displeasure, pressing his hands against the table, a map of a city drawn into its top. "Her control over the movement of the factionless and the soldiers is less then acceptable."

"So she has no idea what she's doing." I ran my hands down my face, irritated. Couldn't Melanie do one goddamn thing right? I had enough on my plate to deal with her bullshit too! "She's fucking everything up."

"Essentially. She's managed to move most of the factionless out of the warehouses we need with few casualties, but production has seemed to stop at that point. She cleared these two buildings," he motioned at the map on the table before him, showing me the areas. "But the third is still crawling with them. If they're not gone by the end of the week, we'll be behind schedule."

"Why not just blow the place sky high?"

"It would draw too much attention."

Of course it would.

I rubbed at my scruffy jaw, in serious need of a shave. Maybe tonight I'd have time, if the baby didn't start screaming and Camille start crying because her nerves were frayed. I didn't mind getting up every now and then to soothe him, but I couldn't every night and work too.

"She needs to send in some units to clear it, have them armored and with enough weapons and ammo it's not a problem," I said after a moment. "Go through all the exits but one, leave the factionless with only one escape route so they funnel out into this abandoned part of the city with the rest of them." I drew my finger along the map. "Shouldn't take more then a few hours. Even she's capable of that."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," Max grumbled, and I glanced up at him; he wasn't one to bad mouth one of his soldiers, even lightly; she must seriously be getting under his skin with her fuck ups.

"Just send the order and she'll follow."

"I don't want to send another order, I want to send someone more capable." He shook his head, and I tensed at his words.

I ---.

"Eric, you need to lead this operation before it crumbles through our fingers," he finally said out right, dark eyes on mine. "I'm sending you to replace Melanie, there is no other choice."

Eh!

"I can't ---." I started instantly, curling my fingers into fists. "Camille ---."

"Camille is safe within the compound, her and your child. I need you to stop focusing on them, and focus on your duty to Dauntless." I straightened at the insulting words; did he really think I wasn't taking this seriously? "You need to lead this op to completion, or I'm going to find someone who can follow my orders to a T."

I narrowed my eyes at the hardly veiled threat. He wanted to replace me, did he? He thought he could find some other fucker to do the dirty work and not feel bad about it?

He'd fail, and we both knew it. I was going to call his bluff, I wanted too, especially to remind him how much he needed me.

However...

This might be a good opportunity for me.

"I'll lead the operation," I said thoughtfully, Max starting to smirk. "But not outright. I'll go for a few weeks, I'll train Melanie to get her head out of her ass, and I'll come back. If I think she's going to be shit at it, I'll say so, and we'll make something work. I'm not going to leave for three months at a time, I've got too much shit to handle now."

As I spoke, Max's face steadily soured, until he looked ready to shoot me outright. He ground his teeth as he looked at me, but I merely crossed my arms.

I wasn't changing my mind.

"Three weeks is what I'm giving you." I said flatly. "That's it."

In three weeks, Kai would be a month old, old enough for daycare. I wanted to take him on his first day, and I'd walk back to the compound if I had too. I wanted to make Camille feel better about being separated from him, and me taking him is the only thing I knew to do to set precedence.

You fuck with my baby, I'll kill you.

Pretty easy to remember.

"Fine. Only, however, the factionless are gone by the end of the week." Max said after a moment, deciding not to argue with me.

I smirked. "Done."

~~~~

"Three weeks?" Camille nearly shrieked at me, and I winced as the baby immediately began to scream in her arms.

"Oh! I'm sorry, baby, Mommy's sorry," she sighed immediately, starting to bounce and rock him slightly. She glowered at me over the top of his curly black hair. "Eric!"

"It's Max's orders!" I shrugged my shoulders, watching her grit her teeth as she tries to quiet Kai. "I don't have a choice. Melanie is fucking the op up pretty bad for Erudite and it's becoming a problem. I should never have agreed to let her go." I sighed.

"But --- Eric! You're going to leave me here all by myself with this thing!" Camille gasped, looking ready to cry herself; I could hardly hear what she was saying over the kid, I was having to read her lips. It was just a constant barrage of high pitched screams.

"You're more then capable, and it's only for a few weeks." I said gently, offering my arms. Maybe if I held him she wouldn't have a mental break down on me. She handed me the baby readily, and I cradled him in my arms, running my fingers across his snarled nose. "You're alone with him all day."

"Yeah, but you always come home at night," she sat down on the sofa, running her fingers through tangled black hair. "You give me a break."

"Not all the time. Camille, you can do this. We're soldiers, we can handle anything," I said, holding Kai up against my shoulder, letting him wail into my ear; I didn't need to be able to hear anyway. "He's sleeping better now, right?"

"No." She stressed the word, dark circles still beneath her eyes. "Eric, you can't leave me here by myself. I can't do this."

I knew it was coming.

"Baby," I sighed, shuffling Kai a little against my shoulder, relieved he was finally starting to hiccup instead of scream. I stepped to Camille, sitting down on the coffee table in front of her. "I have to do this, Max isn't giving me a choice. This is big for us and Erudite building trust, and Melanie is blowing all of it up. I love you." I reached forward, taking her hand and squeezing tightly. "I'll be back in three weeks to drop Kai off at daycare if I have to walk the distance myself."

Camille gazed at me with those dark eyes, and finally she nodded, frowning. "Max is the leader."

"Yeah, for the time being." I glanced down at the baby, grimacing as I saw the spit on my shirt. "I'll take control one day and it won't be like this."

Camille snorted, shaking her head. "You really think you'll get Dauntless one day?"

"I'll got you, didn't I?" I arched a brow at her. "I convinced you to fall in love with me and have my child, the hard part is already over."

She almost smiled at me.

"You're so fucking dumb." She finally muttered, but leaned forward to kiss me lightly; her kisses are basically the only affection I've had since she started ballooning outward, and I missed it. I missed the sex like crazy, I'd never gone so long without it before, and I missed her giggles, those coy looks she'd send over her shoulder at me.

The moment she'd gotten that baby bump, all of that stopped.

I was still going through withdrawals.

I wanted --- needed --- it now that I had it.

Being trapped with Mel for three weeks was going to be torture. I wouldn't be getting sweet kisses or halfway smiles, I'd get... Mel.

I wasn't looking forward to it.

Tags: @jcause.    @elaacreditava.       @riegan.   @deathbyamonster @pathybo@buried-in-books @maquet-lambb.  @jojuarez26. @ljvosscmt    @beltz2016 @magellan-88     @kenzieam    @tigpooh67   @rred87

[3one3]

The Sequel - 872

Domestics

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“You know what sucks about ending one’s relationship with a major fashion house? No more invitations to parties that warrant ball gowns. I want to wear a dress and go to a party that takes three hours to get ready for. Take me to a party, boyfriend.”

“No parties until this is healed, otherwise you can’t wear a sexy open back dress.”

“Stop picking at it.”

A week after the nasty altercation with the tree branch, Christina’s wound was scabbed over and surrounded by yellowish brown post-bruise skin that didn’t much hurt anymore. The area was healed enough that André could touch it, and trace the crooked mark with his finger, and try to peel away the scabs at the smallest end. She made him lie nearly flat across the long part of the living room couch instead of reclining down the chaise in his usual spot so that she could lie on top of him and still see the TV, on which they watched her downloaded American coverage of the Emmy awards from the night before. She put the smallest throw pillow on his chest and had no problem resting on her cheek to watch the show, but the player didn’t like craning his neck all the way to the left to watch it, and didn’t really care about the dresses and tuxedos and hairdos anyway. He watched the top of her head and her back instead, and felt all over with his palms while she commented on the looks, laughed at the host, and scoffed at the unfunny jokes provided for and badly delivered by the presenters.

“Take me to one anyway. There are tons of amazing, chic gowns in the world that look amazing and chic without showing rib cleavage, waist, or mid-back.”

“Rib cleavage,” André laughed, moving his fingertip to travel over the faint bumps of the ribs in question. “I’m sure Tim can find some charity gala if you want to wear a gown.”

“That might be the most rich-person thing you’ve ever said,” the very large paperweight holding him down chuckled back.

“You told me everyone in New York gives to charity just to go to the galas.”

“They do.”

“Well I think you look nice in this bra thing, and no hairdo.”

“Bralette, and Luke did my hair.”

“You let him use a hot curling iron?”

“No. He braided my hair for me when it was wet. Do you think my boobs would look saggy if I wore a dress with the neckline down to my belly button like that?” Christina squinted at a sparkly red, full frontal gown on the award show stage and wondered if a bustier woman could get away with the same style without falling out.

“No. I think they’d look sexy as hell. Under-boob is so hot. But you’d need a dress that lets them be loose and natural. That dress is squishing her tits flat.” André poked at the side of her right breast, which was definitely also squished, but not because her comfortable bra top was tight. “To be honest, I prefer them just naked, no dress.”

Me too, his girl silently agreed. I don’t notice boobs in clothes but sometimes I think naked ones look nice. And I like when mine are freeeeee, naked or otherwise. I also like the way he looks at them when they’re naked though. And touches them. And kisses them. She thought absently back to the morning before, when her husband was able to stay in bed late because it was a matchday and he still couldn’t play and there was no training at Brackel. The equestrian trainer had no lessons to teach either, and Lukas was sleeping in because he stayed up late Saturday night to go to the Oktoberfest party at the stable next door. They did an in-house horse show during the afternoon and then the lesson riders took part in drill team performances, put on comedy sketches that included their horses, and competed in tandem races, in which three riders tried to do a combination of staying side by side as evenly as possible, even over jumps, and doing perfect mirror image turns and fences while separated. There was grilled food, a bonfire, live music, cornhole, and excessive beer drinking for those not riding or finished in the saddle for the day. Christina was invited to judge the horse show, which she enjoyed very much, and then André brought his mini-me over to enjoy the festivities. He had a great time, and was sure to need the extra sleep in the morning. His parents used the morning to get connected. Breasts and hands were particularly well connected. Christina liked that.

“I don’t know who most of these actors are,” the recovering Bee yawned.

“Me neither. I think we’ve seen all the gowns by now. Do you want to watch something else? Did you want to watch the match, or do you all go over it together during the week?” His girl wanted him to say he wanted to watch Borussia Dortmund vs. Köln again. They watched it together live, in the stadium, but she knew that was different than seeing it on TV, and she knew he would say things on the couch that he couldn’t or wouldn’t say at Signal Iduna Park. She wanted to hear them.

“I’ll get to see plenty of it again in meetings. Are your legs getting hot? My legs are sweating,” he complained. There was a cashmere blanket treating them like burrito filling from the waist down. Christina shifted to get up, and free them from the blanket for some fresh air if she could without disturbing the Toy Fox Terriers also nesting in it. “Where you going?” André questioned with what his wife deemed a hilarious level of urgency. He used both hands to hold her waist too so that she couldn’t move.

“I was just going to ventilate,” she assured him with a smile.

“I can do that without you moving. No moving.” He let go to slide his palms over her butt and collect some of the blanket to open up and drape over the dogs and onto the back cushions. Fresh air felt great. His wife’s body went into thermonuclear runaway at times for various reasons- overtiredness, too much sun, PMS, illness, anger- and even just sitting too close to her could be like lounging in front of a blast furnace. Physical contact could result in melting. As a perpetually cold person, André usually liked the standard, reasonable amount of warmth she provided on, next to, or in a blanket with him, but her overheating could be really uncomfortable. He was fighting his rising temperature to keep her close because she seemed calm, and peaceful, and content, and historically passed those things on to him by proximity. He also liked the weight of her on his body. It was satisfying. Her breathing was a primal comfort. And the extra-quiet voice she used because they were so close was inherently sweeter sounding than her regular conversational volume.

“In exchange for not moving, can you rub my lower back?” Christina lay her head back down on the thin, rectangular pillow and winced at the tugging sensation in her spine. It actually felt good, but good was accompanied by short, sharp pain.

“Have you ever considered acupuncture? For any or all of your ailments?”

“No, not really. I like when you use the word “ailments”.”

“Why don’t you try it? Can’t hurt.”

“Yeah, how could sticking a bunch of needles in my body possibly hurt?”

“It doesn’t! I’ve had many times. The Chelsea doctors use it a lot.”

“I hurt my wrist today too.”

“Doing what?”

“Yoga.”

“Pfffft.”

“Rub harder.”

André pushed his longish fingertips into either side of her spine, right above the tag sticking up out of her underwear. He made a circular motion with them, like a DJ winding back a very small record. Each hand circled in a different direction but both pushed inward toward the vertebrae. It really wasn’t her actual spine that hurt- just the muscles helping to hold it up. The Olympian had a beautiful seat with silky, fluid softness, and that requires strength and discipline. Christina always had trouble explaining that contradiction to new riders. They often didn’t understand how strength and its connotation of rigidity could help one follow and give with the horse more. Weakness means bracing against movement to stay upright, or to hold an angle. Bracing against movement destroys rhythm, feel, and the ability to use the body to influence the horse. To ride as if her butt and legs were fused with her mount, Christina needed as much core strength as he needed in his topline and hindquarter to perform her asks. But since not every stride is about grace and synchronicity, she needed upper body strength too, through her shoulders, and in her arms, for wrestling their inner demons and their exuberance, and in her calves to moderate her signals precisely, act as a powerful rudder for their momentum, and use pressure to dictate the volume of the energy in every step. She didn’t know any professional riders without chronic pain in at least one of those areas, and occasionally wondered how some of the older top riders put up with it for so long. Forty years of lower back pain seemed exceptionally self-loathing. The frequency of the wondering increased during the period she and everyone close to her identified as her chance to figure out what would come next.

“It’s kind of weird to be pushing so hard on you like this in this position and not also be inside you.”

“Do you want to be?” she yawned, chin on her pillow so she could see her masseur.

“Not really. Last night you couldn’t sleep, you’re black and blue around your joints, you’re achy, you’re wearing a bra when you don’t have to be, and you’re hotter than dragon’s breath. Your period is coming tomorrow or the next day, and that means today you’re the least horny girl in Germany and it would take so long to get you off that it wouldn’t even be enjoyable.”

“My head also hurts. Don’t forget that part.” It’s kinda cute how husbands know all the signs, the sleepy rider reflected. You don’t even have to announce that your period is coming and complain, because they already know. Boyfriends don’t usually know. Well, Juanin does, I think. Anyway, some girls put a hot water bottle or a heating pad on their uterus. I just put my uterus on my husband. Same effect, really.

“Do I need to rub that when I’m done down here?”

“Nah. But since you brought up dragon’s breath, I have some news.”

“Oh god.”

“You know how I joked about changing Dirkmeister’s name to Dracarys? I briefly entertained the idea of changing Dylan’s name instead- like his show name, since I can’t change his registered name and it has to be a Q name anyway. But I like Qué Qualität. Soooo then-“ Christina paused to yawn, and André smiled inside about the way she spoke. It was as if she were just reporting dialogue from inside her head- quickly, unconvincingly, without any persuasive eye contact, etc. He sometimes fantasized about getting some magical chance to be in her head for just a few minutes to see what it was like, and if everything moved even faster in there and less coherently. He wondered if she was as rambling inside as her inner monologue seemed when it spilled out due to excitement and impatience or tiredness. The shortcut was a “careful what you wish for” thing for him though, because organically learning about the contents of her head was his favorite thing. “Then Tom and I debated calling Navarra’s next baby Dracarys, because there aren’t any important naming rules for him if we’re going to register him as a Hanoverian. THEN I was like “Oooooo, I know!” We can call Navarra and Nick’s foal Viserion, which was one of Dany’s dragons- her “White Dragon”. The foal could be a gray. And Nicky’s real name starts with a V too, even though it doesn’t matter. But Tom said to wait until I finish catching up on Thrones and get current, so now I’m afraid Viserion is going to turn some character I like into barbecue or something.”

“I don’t like that name.” The footballer and forced Game of Thrones watcher shook his head and took it upon himself to try to rid his girl of her headache despite her earlier answer. He gently fed his fingers into her hair from the front, around her face, and slid them to the back to massage her scalp. “I think you should wait until you have another Dirk baby and call that one Dracarys, because he’s like your dragon, and the most important thing about a dragon is his fire, and Dirk’s fire will live on in his babies, yeah?”

“D’ya’know’what? Sometimes you’re exactly like Jon Snow,” the mother of horses without dragon names proclaimed very solemnly, sitting up just a little. “You know nothing, but because you’re so good inside you get to the right answer anyway, and you always have this reason for it that sounds deep at first but is actually so simple, and good. I love that about you. So much.”

“I’m not very good with a sword, and you stop having sex with me when my hair gets too long for your liking, Prinzessin.” André winked at her and played it cool on the outside. Inside, he was thrilled to hear that there was still an inherent quality about him that she loved, and not just things he did. Most of her “favorite things” weren’t character traits like that, but consequences of different ones. His intuition was something that could only be his, and which no one could change.

“That’s okay.” Christina put her cheek back on the pillow and sighed. “Jon Snow is always trying to get himself killed, and occasionally succeeding. I prefer my partner safe and sound.”

“And he’s like 5’8”.”

“I don’t mind short heroes.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Ow, the pretender exclaimed to himself when she deftly, but gently, smacked him in the face without even looking. It really didn’t hurt. There was no need for an “ow”, aloud or otherwise. That response was just instinctive. It was followed with a small chuckle. Christina might not have found his Juan joke funny, but he sure did.  

“I’ve never heard of any of these shows. Do we watch less TV than everyone else, or are we watching the wrong TV?”

“I don’t know. You always say you can’t follow too many series because you’re not home to watch them week after week and they’re not on the same night or same time in the different countries you go. We have like hundreds of shows saved on the box,” André snorted, letting go of her head to feel around on the chaise for the remote control. “Aren’t a lot of the shows that are winning on Netflix and Amazon and things?”

“Yeah. I don’t have time for that. My regular old American network shows are coming back soon, aaaaand I’m gonna be able to watch a lot of them at home this fall instead of on planes and in hotels.”

“How is the charter pilot going to feed his family if you don’t go anywhere?”

“I don’t fly private that often!”

“You’re using it in a couple of days to go to Rome!”

“And it’s the first time in over a month. And I’m only doing it because I have to take the whole squad, including your parents. Plus Spencer and Lucky don’t like having to stay in bags under a seat. They get their own seats on the jet.”

“They had no idea how lucky they were that I decided to take you on a picnic at the horse trial. Imagine the life they’d have if some poor person adopted them instead.”

“They wouldn’t care. As long as the person loved them and took care of them and let them sleep on them then they’d be happy.”

“You used to be the same.”

“Still am.”

“No comment.”

“Heyyyy.” The rider lifted her head again to glare more directly at her contradictory husband. He was smiling at her. That didn’t make her less upset at the insinuation that her happiness was much more complicated than her dogs’. That’s not fair, she complained. All I need is to be loved, looked after, and snuggled. He doesn’t always act like he loves me, and he doesn’t always look after me very well. Sometimes he’s very bad at that.

“Calm down,” he replied dismissively. “You’re going to get even hotter if you get all excited. I’m already melting here.”

“But-“

“I didn’t mean anything by it. Just playing. Here, why don’t you get rid of this pillow and come up this way.” The Dortmund man wriggled the throw pillow from under her chin and then patted near his shoulder to invite her to rest her head there instead. Christina went without a word, in protest or otherwise, and he let his own head tip over to rest his temple against her. He closed both arms around her upper body too, and gave her a mild, lingering squeeze. One of the black, white, and tan creatures stirred against his leg because Christina’s 6” move northward moved one of her legs away from them. “I’m very happy when I get to love you, take care of you, and have you sleep on me,” he told her, his words slightly muffled by her hair. “I’ll always be happy as long as I have that- doesn’t matter what else isn’t right.”

“You’re sappy tonight.” And lying. Or...romanticizing the situation. He’s always had the ability to love me, take care of me, and let me sleep on him, she thought. He’s not always happy. In fact, he’s rarely that happy lately. Those are nice lines to say, but they’re inauthentic.

“Your hair doesn’t smell very good tonight.”

“It was stuffed in a helmet for 6 hours so I would expect not.”

“What’s tomorrow? Riding and teaching all day?”

“Yeah, and then I have a date with Jon and Dany. I’m finally going to see them bang in context, and then I’ll probably spend the rest of the night fantasizing about being in bed with Jon Snow. He got so hot this season. I just- Ugh,” Christina growled. “The way he looks at her. The way he looks when he’s being all noble and honorable and strong and fucking perfect. Ten out of 10, would smash.”

“Are you sure the period isn’t already here? Are you past Miserable, Suffering, Desert Vagina, No Sex Drive PMS Prinzessin and already into Very Horny, Very Orgasmic But Bleeding Everywhere Prinzessin?”

“Yes, I’m sure. He’s just really sexy. Like you used to be.”

“Mean.”

“You’re so old now, and wrinkly.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you know what my favorite part of Thrones is?”

“The dwarf. You identify with him so much,” André sniggered. He was making a short joke, but really he thought the character was the one most like his wife. He was incredibly intelligent and forever trying to compensate for disappointing his family, incredibly clever and forever trying to brain his way out of difficult situations. He was funny and dry, but kind, and big-hearted. The player suspected she liked him best, despite her obsession with Jon Snow and admiration of Daenerys.

“No. The scything electronic sound effect they always use right before Drogon is about to spit fire at someone. It’s so badass. I now hear it in my head every time I’m about to jump something. I keep meaning to see if they got a new music director at some point. I forget where, but some episode, maybe the end of season 6, feels like the first time the music is actually noticeable and significant. I always wondered before that why music wasn’t used more.”

“You have the most obsessive personality of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re sure your favorite thing isn’t that all the most powerful and intelligent characters are little tiny people?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose you’ll want to be Daenerys for Halloween, yeah?”

“I dunno. It’s not even October yet.”

“Then is it too soon to ask if you’re doing Halloween here or going to London for Eden’s party?”

Christina didn’t answer right away, and that left plenty of time for André to contemplate all the reasons he asked the question. If she decided to go to the annual party back home in London, it would of course be to have fun with Natasha, see other friends, and catch up with Yannis and Leo. But it would of course also be to see Juan, and it would probably involve staying a couple of nights with Juan. The Spaniard was not a frequent topic of conversation over the past week, which was a bit out of the norm for recent times. André was pleased about it, but curious. Juan just didn’t come up. Usually Christina couldn’t help but mention him one way or another, and usually her partner couldn’t help but let his jealousy conjure the Chelsea man in his head all the time even without her bringing him up. He also didn’t “catch” her texting him, or talking to him on the phone all week. He was sure they still communicated plenty, but she was either trying to be considerate about not doing it in front of his face, or they were talking less. André didn’t want to consider that his wife could have consciously hid her communications with Juan because she didn’t want him to know about them for some malicious reason. It was more satisfying to believe he just wasn’t on her mind as much.  

“I dunno,” she shrug-yawned. She turned her head the other way too, to give her neck a break. “I haven’t thought about it. I’m going there for Nat’s birthday right before that.” Thanks to her, the Bee’s electric razor had sharp blades again, and she poked her left pointer into his neatly trimmed beard on his chin. Rather than buying new heads for the device, the industrious girl took care of the problem herself with the help of some Google-sourced DIY instructions. “Do me a favor, okay?” she prompted quite quietly, and with more seriousness than the rest of the conversation warranted. Her change made him anxious.

“What?”

“Don’t keep pushing me to answer things about the future- even the soon-future. I want to take my time getting there, while I can.”

“I’ll do my best, Prinzessin.”

“You understand what I mean, right?”

“I think so, yes.”