#oh also Maria you’re half right
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aurora II Mapi León x Reader
masterlist | word count: 1190
summary: Mapi and reader getting engaged under the northern lights.
author's note: dear readers, this cute oneshot was requested and we hope you'll like it as much as we did writing the story. 🫶🏻🫶🏻
„Oh, Mapi, you know you didn’t need to.”, you began, your voice full of emotions.
In your slightly shaky hands, you held the opened envelope in which there was an invitation to see the Northern lights. A childhood dream was laying in your palms.
It was coming true, and you were going to see that natural wonder with no other than the person you loved the most. A single tear ran down your cheek as an incredible feeling of gratitude spread through you.
The Spaniard pressed a featherlight kiss to the place where your cheek was still a bit wet. “But I wanted to. I know you always wanted to do that, and you deserve it after the year you’ve had.”
For a brief moment, your face darkened; the last few months of the 2024/25 football season had been really tough for you. While Mapi and Irene were fit enough to play in the starting eleven again, you were demoted to the substitutes' bench again, after having grown in the role of defender and been indispensable to the team for many months.
Obviously, you were happy for the two, yet it hurt to be only considered the second choice once more.
“Thank you, amor.”, you whispered gratefully.
“You’re welcome.”, she replied.
“I simply can’t wait for that.”, you hummed excitedly. Something magical at the end of the year was just what you needed, a small winter miracle.
“Luckily, you don’t have to wait for long.”, Mapi reminded you softly.
‘But you're going to be so cold!’ you realised, and there was a hint of a guilty conscience in your voice.
“You can keep me warm.”, the defender responded with an amused smile on her lips.
“I promise I’ll.”, you grinned at your girlfriend.
“Also I already bought us matching sweaters.”,Mapi confessed sheepishly
“You did?”, you asked her touched by such a thoughtful and admittable, cheesy gesture.
“I did.”, she confirmed smirking.
“Maria Pilar, you’re the softest human with tattoos I’ve ever met, I swear.”, you said.
“My tattoos have nothing to do with that.”, the fellow football player laughed.
The weeks had flown by.
Still, it felt to you like a dream when Mapi and you were looking up to the night sky in the northern parts of Scandinavia. The northern lights above your heads.
“Yes.”, she agreed solemnly. With curious eyes the defender turned her head to look at you. “Is it just like you imagined?”
“No, it’s even better.”, you admitted.
“It’s?”, Mapi questioned happily.
You quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek: “Yes, because you’re here with me.“
“You’re so sweet.“, your girlfriend smiled, her cheeks red from the cold.
“Also this feels so good right now. We’re only half way through the season but it’s already been an exhausting one for sure.“
“I know. And that’s why you’re not supposed to think about football here.“, Mapi reminded you gently.
You nodded gingerly. Of course she was right, this was not the time or place to think about football when you finally got to see this remarkable light display with your own eyes. “Sorry.“
Silently, you both watched on for a moment, taking everything in. You still couldn’t believe this was all real. It was almost verging on overwhelming.
“Y/n?”, Mapi said suddenly into the night.
“Hm?”, you replied without taking your eyes off the sky.
“I need to ask you something.“
Finally you turned towards her and what you saw, made the northern lights pale in comparison. There was no way to top this, yet Mapi found away.
The defender kneeled in front of you, holding a delicate golden ring in a little box.
“Oh my god!”, you whispered, incapable of stringing more words together.
“I haven’t asked yet.“, Mapi chuckled.
You shook your head in disbelief: “Well, you already got down on one knee in the freezing cold and pulled out a ring from your jacket so this is pretty self-explanatory!”
“So… Can I get an answer then?”
“Without asking? Hm…“, you teased her.
Mapi shot you a look: “You just said I didn’t have to.“
“It’s a yes, amor.“, you finally answered. You couldn’t contain the smile spreading across your face when you pulled Mapi up from the snowy ground and kissed her.
“You will be my wife?”, she asked as if she needed confirmation that you knew what you had just agreed to.
“Yes, and you’ll be mine.“
She beamed at you happily: “I will be. Even in the cold… Can we go inside now?”
“Of course, I can’t let my fiancée freeze any longer.“, you nodded with a laugh and led her inside your rented cabin.
“Thank you.“, your fiancée said, rubbing her hands together to warm them back up once she was inside.
“You’re welcome. Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?”, you suggested once you saw how badly Mapi was shivering.
“Yes, please.“
While she took off her boots and winter jacket, you disappeared into the small rustic kitchen only to return with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate a few minutes later. You had even added mini marshmallows. Carefully, you handed Mapi a mug and watched her take a sip.
“Better?”
“A lot.“
“Good.“, you sighed relieved.
“That’s all I ever wanted.”, the defender realized gratefully.
“A hot chocolate under the northern lights?”, you asked her amused.
“With my future wife.”, she added proudly. Her words made you feel suddenly very hot, so you had to pull off the scarf.
Despite the rather chaotic proposal you heard yourself saying. “Feels like a dream.”
“It does, huh?”
“Yes, I don’t want to wake up from it yet.”, you confessed.
The fireplace crackled in the background.
“You don’t have to. That’s our life right now.”, Mapi reassured you, the Spaniard gently touched your chin and turned it towards her so that you could look into her hungry eyes.
They and her waiting lips were the invitation you needed, both of your mouths touching in perfect unison, the kiss was perfect, bittersweet, you could still taste the hot chocolate in it.
Then she leant her forehead against yours, her sentence sounded full of promise. “Love you, future wifey.”
“Te amo.”, you whispered gently in your fiancées mother tongue.
“I know.”, Mapi chuckled, her lips escaping a protesting sound once you got up to light some candles and turned out the big lights, so it was even cozier than before.
“Isn’t this perfect.”, the Spaniard admired.
“It’s plus we can see the northern lights from our beds.”, you pointed excitedly to the glass ceiling which gave a picturesque view of the night sky above your heads.
“Nice, right?”, she grinned, as you both laid down on the soft mattress.
“Yes, it’s an amazing place to make..”, you started blushing.
“Love?”, Mapi finished the sentence for you with a teasing look on her face.
“Yes.”, you bit your lips while your fiancée began to leave small kisses all over your body.
Aurora, the blush of dawn would be here soon, but you two had only eyes for each other as you made love under the most beautiful sky you’ve ever seen.
if you enjoyed this story reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated !
Christmas/Winter Oneshots
#mapi leon#mapi león#mapi leon x reader#mapi leon imagine#woso x reader#woso#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso one shot#barca femeni#barcelona women#woso oneshot#woso community#futfem#fcb femeni#woso blurbs#woso fic#woso fluff#woso fanfic#fcb femeni x reader#barcelona femeni x reader#barca femeni x reader#woso x y/n#maria leon#sefutbolfem#woso soccer#espwnt
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How about a NNN (No nut november) fic with either Leah or Alexia where they made a bet and two weeks in regret it but R wants them to win and denies them but also still teases. they end up getting mocked by everyone because of their lack of concentration. you can decide the ending !
Needy November
Alexia Putellas x fem!reader
summary: ale accepts a challenge not realizing how hard it’s going to be
a/n: pretend i’m not two months late…
“C’mon capi, join the bet. Ingrid and I are doing it!” Mapi exclaims, continuing to try and convince her captain to the challenge.
“For the last time Maria, no.” Alexia shakes her head and proceeds to pack up her kit bag. She found the whole month's dare stupid and meaningless, especially when it meant holding off one of her favorite things.
“Ah, I see. You’re too scared that you’re gonna lose. I bet you’d crumble and fail within an hour.” The tattooed girl smirks, egging on Alexia which seems to be working. Alexia is never one to lose a challenge, so hearing people say she’d fail, she’s going to prove them wrong.
“How much are we talking?”
—
“Bebe, I’m home!” Alexia’s voice echoes through the house, but once she notices the nicely lit candles and rose petals on the ground, she decides to quickly look for you.
Making her way around the home, she still has no clue as to where you are. She finally makes her way to the bedroom, and when she walks in, hands cover her eyes from behind which makes her jump but ease down when she smells the familiar scent of your perfume.
“Surprise.” You whisper in her ear, leaning up to reach. Removing your hands, you make your way in front of her and smooth out your outfit. Her eyes trail down her body and her mouth opens slightly in awe.
“What is all this?” She asks breathlessly, hands finding their way to your hips while yours loop around her neck and mess with her baby hairs.
“I thought I’d surprise you. I didn’t have anything to grade or check over today, so I came straight home and set this up. You and I have hardly had much time together since the season started, and I wanted to make time. So here we are.” Smiling, you lean in for a loving kiss. Alexia melts into your soft lips but pulls back way too soon for both of your liking.
“No no no no, I can’t.” The taller girl groans as she runs her hands down her face. She keeps them hovering over her eyes so she can’t see you in your outfit. If she keeps looking, she would pounce and have her way with you, but lose the bet.
Your hands grab her wrists and pull them away from her face, but her head tilts up towards the ceiling. “What is going on, baby? You’re really confusing me right now.” You nervously chuckle at her weird behavior.
“I made a bet with the girls.” She trails off, still avoiding your gaze.
“Oh no-”
“I can’t have any sex this month.”
“What!”
Alexia winces at your sudden rise of tone. “I know, I know. It was so stupid to accept. I should have just left.” She groans, still keeping her eyes off of you.
You let off a small huff and race through your thoughts. Technically, the team wouldn’t even know if she failed the challenge, she’d just have to lie. You grin to yourself and return your hands to her neck, rubbing up and down sensually. Alexia’s breath hitches when you press a few kisses on her jawline, knowing what you’re trying to do.
“Y’know, the girls don’t have to find out. We can have all the fun we want and still win the bet.” You whisper in her ear, attempting to help her give in. You pull back slightly and tug her earlobe between your teeth, making her eyes roll slightly in pleasure.
“No, that’s cheating which makes me a loser.” She suddenly takes a few steps back, shaking her head ferociously while pacing around the room.
“So you’re saying no to your half-naked girlfriend because you’re too stubborn to lose a bet that you got yourself into?” You question, quirking your eyebrow at her.
“Si.”
Her deadpan answer makes you scoff and groan at the same time. She probably didn’t even consider what she’d be taking away from you when she accepted the bet, so you’re going to try one last thing in hopes of changing her mind. You approach her and lightly run your fingertips down her chest and to her stomach, causing the Catalan to look anywhere but you.
“Ale, be serious for a second. You can pretend this stupid little game doesn’t exist and do whatever you want to me. You can bend and flip me into any position then fuck me-“
“La la la la! I can’t hear you!” Alexia covers her ears, shouting like a little kid and closing her eyes to end your temptations. Groaning loudly, you stomp into the bathroom to get your robe and calm down.
After a minute, the brunette peeks her eye open and sees you’re no longer in the room. She lets out a breath in relief but frowns when she takes in how much you did for her only for it to be ruined.
Walking over to the bathroom, she knocks lightly against the door. “Amor? Are you okay?”
She moves back when the door swings open, revealing you with your hair up in a messy bun and your body dressed in an oversized shirt with shorts. Her eyes follow your figure as you blow out all the candles, confusing her as to what your mood is. You can either be angry or just meh. Once you’re done, you walk back over to the taller girl and place a kiss on her cheek.
“I’m not mad, Ale. I guess it’s my fault for being in a relationship with a stubborn captain who can’t ever lose.”
“Hey!”
—
Three weeks in and Alexia has been miserable. Her body aches for yours, to touch you and to be touched. You on the other hand have been okay. Of course, you’re constantly craving Alexia, but you can still get off by yourself. It’s hard, but it’s one way to relieve yourself.
Alexia has been off the past week due to tweaking her knee, so she has to sit out for precautionary purposes. She still goes to training to see the girls and fulfill her captain duties, but today she decided to stay at home with you. It’s the weekend so you don’t have to worry about going to work.
You decided to take in your time off and enjoy yourself with a book in bed while Alexia busied herself in the living room, most likely watching football games. You’re embracing the silence of the room until the door creaks open and a body slams itself onto the bed.
The Catalan sighs, trying to get your attention but when you don’t pay her any mind, she sighs louder. You continue to flip through the pages of your book, purposely ignoring the girl’s advances. She crawls up to your body and places her head onto your stomach then trailing her hands onto your waist, just where your shirt rises and shows off your skin.
It starts as innocent as she rubs her hands up and down, massaging at your skin but soon turns more sinister when she places kisses below your belly button. Her fingers hook onto your shorts in an attempt to pull them down, but her advances are stopped when you slap at her hands.
“Amor.” She whines, looking up at you with your nose still stuck in your book. She huffs in annoyance and slides her body up, poking her head between the gap of your arms, now resting her head on your chest.
When you continue to pay her no attention, she begins to trail kisses across your jaw and down your neck. Her teeth start to sink into your skin right before you slam your book shut, making the girl jump in shock.
“Baby, I know you’re needy right now, but you need to stop.” You say sternly.
“Oh bebe, I know you want this just as much as I do. Let’s get naked, si?” She grins as her nose brushes along the underside of your jaw.
“Ah, no.” You push her off your body and onto the other side of the bed.
“C’mon, bebe. Don’t you want me fuck you with the stra-“
You quickly place a hand over her mouth and say, “You dug this hole, Ale. You gotta get yourself out of it. I’m not gonna give in just because you want it this time. You wanted to win so you’re going to win.”
Alexia buries her face into a pillow and lets out a few noises of aggression before getting up to head back into the living room. You shake your head in amusement and reopen your book, continuing from the spot you were interrupted by.
The Catalan shouts from another room, “I guess I’ll have to occupy myself because my girlfriend doesn’t love me!”
“Don’t you dare, Alexia Putellas Segura!”
—
It’s finally November 30th. Alexia is in the locker room, bouncing her leg up and down in anticipation of tonight. You’re both definitely going to be staying up until midnight to make up for the month’s time.
“Got somewhere to be, capi?” Patri asks, noticing the girl’s antsy behavior.
“Yeah, to her girlfriend so she can finally shag her tonight,” Mapi smirks when Alexia glares at her. “Don’t you think I know? Ingrid and I are both excited too, right bonita?” Ingrid rolls her eyes at her girlfriend who is waving her eyebrows up and down.
“It’s your fault I am even in this mess.” Alexia glares at the tattooed defender who in return holds up her hands in fake defense.
“You’re the one who agreed to take part in it, amiga. I didn’t force you.”
The two bicker back and forth until Ingrid interferes, stopping both of them much to the team’s dismay who find their arguing amusing. Ingrid rushes Mapi out the door to get home and rest as soon as possible from the rough training while Alexia decides to do the same.
It’s around 10 at night as she walks through the door. Just like a few weeks ago, there are flower petals on the ground and candles lit around the house, but now there is soft music playing and you standing in a new lingerie set with two flutes of champagne.
Alexia drops her bag onto the floor and quickly makes her way over to you, taking one glass out of your hand and into hers before wrapping her free arm around your back, pulling you into a steamy kiss. After a while, you both pull away to catch your breath with swollen red lips and blown-up eyes.
“Um, we still have two hours so I thought we could watch a movie for the time being. Can’t let you lose now.”
“That’s so long though.” Alexia whines but stops when you slam your lips against hers.
Pulling away you whisper, “Maybe we can make out during the movie, y’know, set the mood for the hours of stolen time we need to redeem?”
—
“Someone had a good night!” Lucy howls at the love-sick smile and glow that has been plastered on the captain’s face since she arrived at training.
“Mapi, pay up!”
#alexia putellas x reader#mapi leon#ingrid engen#patri guijarro#lucy bronze#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso fic#woso#barcelona fc#barcelona femeni
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Holiday Spirit
Summary: The Christmas spirit is something that should always be shared
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader + platonic!Maria Hill x fem!reader
Warnings: Not proofread (yet)
Word count: 1155
a/n: Happy holidays! I’ll try and get out another fic that isn’t about Christmas sooner than later for those who don’t celebrate. Sorry again for this being so late. (Reblogs are welcome and critiques/advice are heavily encouraged, but please no translating.)
Tossing her duffle bag on the floor Y/n flops onto her bed face first with a sigh of relief. Missions can last longer than expected sometimes— but it’s worse when they’re stake-out missions that last longer than expected. Almost on the edge of sleep, there is a knock on the door to her bunk.
Y/n groans into her pillow, “Who is it?”
“It’s Santa, and you, my trusty elf, are needed in my toy factory.” Begrudgingly Y/n gets out of bed opening the door with Maria on the other side. Maria grins, “You look like shit.” Shooting Maria a quick glare Y/n rolls her eyes. “This,” Y/n gestures to her face, “is due to a twenty four hour solo stake-out mission. Also, you do know you’re only an inch taller than me right? If I’m an elf, so are you.”
“Woah woah woah, no need to get defensive Y/l/n. Anyways, I just came by to see if you were up for Christmas with my Mom again this year. Maybe you could even bring Natasha, I’ve been telling my Mom about you and her.”
“Yeah I’ll go, and that’s a good idea. I’ll ask her later tonight.” Maria nods before walking away, “Great!” Before closing the door Y/n catches her, “Oh and Hill, what have you been telling your Mom?”
Maria smiles, “Just the truth and what I see, you two are good together don’t worry.”
//
Softly knocking on the door Natasha opens it, “Hey detka, how did the mission go?” Y/n shrugs still tired after the nap she took. “It was okay, are you busy right now though?” Cracking a smile Natasha rolls her eyes, “For you? Never, get in here.”
“You look nice right now by the way.”
“Are you serious?” Natasha asks as they both begin to lounge on the small bed in the room. Y/n sits up a little to face Natasha better, “Yeah I’m serious, the messy half up half down bun look is cute. I like it a lot. Plus it’s just nice to see you in non-mission clothes.”
“Well then thank you.” Natasha tucks one of Y/n’s stray hairs away abstenmindly beginning to play with it, “Did you need something though?”
“Right, yeah. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to come with Maria and I to her Mom’s place for Christmas. I usually have fun but I think it’d be more fun with you there.”
“I’d love that.”
//
Ringing the doorbell there’s an immediate faint sound of bells jingling. The door swings open to the sight of Elizabeth Hill in a ugly Christmas sweater coverd in bells, pom poms, and LED lights.
“Girls!” Elizabeth immediately pulls all three women into a tight hug. “Hi mom.” Maria pats the woman on the back struggle to move. “It’s good to see you too Beth,” Y/n croaks out being sandwiched between the other women.
Letting go of everyone Elizabeth begins shaking Natasha’s hand vigorously, “It’s good to me you by the way Natasha. Maria has told me a lot of good things about you. Oh I love your shirt! Is it red silk or-” Maria quickly interrupts. “Mom. Can we come inside.”
“Oh! Yes, yes everyone come in! And Maria dear, maybe you would be warmer if you had a leather jacket with some lining like a told you last year.” Entering the home it is fully covered in decorations of candycanes and colorful lights with a large tree in the living room decorated with a mix of generic ornaments and homemade ones over the years.
In the dinning room though sits two premade gingerbread house surrounded by bowls of snacks to decorate them with. Elizabeth smiles, “Now usually I buy one for everyone but I figured since we have even numbers this year we could do teams. Lets say mother and daughter versus the cute new couple?”
Natasha grabs a piping bag of icing giving Elizabeth a mock scowl, “Absolutly just know you’re going to loose.”
“Ooh I like that energy, Maria dear you need to bring someone home like her.” As Maria sighs rolling her eyes Y/n looks at Natash with a quirked eyebrow and a grin. Natasha looks up from the ginger bread house and at Y/n, “What? I can be competitive. Now are you going to help or not?”
As Y/n gives a nod of confirmation the kitchen dining table immediately becomes a battlefield. Icing tubes all over the table like artillery, random cadies spread out like ammunition, and a mix of orders and arguing coming from the mouths of both teams. On one side of the table being Maria and Elizabeth who are arguing about candy cane placement.
The other side consisting of Natasha and Y/n with Natasha so lazer focused on the gingerbread house she making to notice the mess beginning to grow around it on herself. On the other hand Y/n is making and decorating marshmallow people as instructed by Natasha.
Looking up at the enemies across from them Elizabeth uses the last trick she can think of to try and get ahead. She blurts out, “Natasha did you know Y/n and Maria made a band in highschool.”
“Mom!”
“Beth!”
As Maria and Y/n both yell at the woman at the same time Natasha looks up from the gingerbread house slowly putting down the gumdrops she was using to decorate with. “Do you have pictures,” Natasha asks as she moves closer the woman. Elizabeth grins mischevously, “Better. I have pictures, videos, and the shirts they made for the band.”
“Oh I need to see this.” Natasha follows Elizabeth to the livingroom as Maria and Y/n look at eachother mortified. Hearing giggling already begin to erupt from the living room Y/n launches a distraction.
“Nat, under any circumstances do not come back in here. I may or may not have messed up the gingerbread house.” In the blink of an eye Natasha is standing in the doorway of the dinning room staring daggers into Y/n.
“You. Did. What?” Y/n puts up her hands defensively slowly walking up to her, “Nothing. I did nothing. I was just trying to steal you away for a minute.” Natasha lets out a sigh of relief, “Don’t do that again.”
“Sure, sure. But I will be honest with you it’s kind hard to take you seriously when you have frosting on your nose,” as Y/n says that she wipes it off for her leading to a sudden flash near them.
The two look over to see Elizabth taking out a small picture from a polaroid before pointing above the two. “Misltoe you two!” Elizabeth says with glee as she readies her camera. As the two kiss and a camera flashes once more Natasha smiles softly at Y/n, “This is a great Christmas, thank you.”
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x female#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff imagine#marvel fancic#marvel imagine#maria hill x reader#maria hill#elizabeth hill#mcu christmas#christmas fic
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Better Together
Request by @l0nelyish
Summary: You're going on missions every day for a week, so it's hard to find time to spend with Nat.
Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R
Life is never boring as an Avenger. But sometimes, you wish it was.
You’re walking down the hallway of the Compound, just as Natasha is rounding up the corner. Your girlfriend smiles at you, making you feel like a teenager.
“Hey, gorgeous” she greets, pulling you closer by the waist.
“Hi…” your answer is muffled by her lips, moving softly against yours. You immediately forget what you were about to say next.
“I got us a dinner reservation at that new place. So wear something nice and nothing underneath” Natasha says, kissing you more passionately this time. You have to hold her arms to stay upright.
“I… uh. I think I have a mission today, Nat”
“You think?” Natasha teases, kissing down your neck.
“I’m… oh, God… 99% sure”
“Too bad”
“Tomorrow?” you offer, leaning your head on her shoulder and she smiles.
“Tomorrow”
—
Tomorrow is not any better, as you’re back from the mission at the break of dawn, dragging your feet to the apartment.
Natasha’s not in your room, but either way you’re too dirty to even consider getting in bed. You leave your suit and gear on the floor and hop on the shower, washing away the dirt and feeling relieved when the cold water helps soothe the soreness in your muscles.
You’re in your early thirties but happy to consider retirement. Not everyone on the team is a super soldier or a god.
Once you’re out of the shower, you get in bed, ready to text Natasha. You fall asleep with your phone in your hand and only wake up hours later, a post it stuck to your forehead.
Had to run on a mission with Clint. Be back tomorrow.
Love you.
You sigh, wishing you had stayed up to at least spend some time with Natasha. As you yawn, another post it falls from your forehead and you read it with a smile.
Left you some pasta in the fridge.
—
Protocol would dictate that you have at least a day of rest between missions, but with Tony’s leave to prepare for his wedding, there’s more ground to cover.
Which is why you get a call right as you finish lunch. Natasha, who was resting in one of the rooms after returning late from her mission, is also woken up by FRIDAY.
“At least we’ll go together this time” you say as you both enter the conference room.
“No, you won’t” Maria reminds you and you roll your eyes.
“It was one time”
“Once was enough” Clint mutters, sitting next to his friend. Natasha elbows him and the man chuckles. “It’s not my fault that your girl can’t be quiet. Not that it would change anything, Cap has super hearing”
Steve practically spits out his coffee, turning red.
It was never a good idea to have sex on the Quinjet after a mission. But what were you supposed to do when Natasha beat the shit out of a man that almost killed you? She looked too hot doing it.
“Anyways…” Maria says, sliding folders to the four of you. “Barton and Romanoff, we need you to get us intel on a bio weapon. Once you have the exact location, Rogers and Y/N will retrieve it”
“Can’t Barnes go with Steve?” Natasha crosses her arms, less than excited at the prospect of you handling a lethal substance.
“Does he have a PhD in Microbiology?” Maria asks and you sigh, reaching for Natasha’s hand.
“It will be fine”
“Ok. But we’re free tomorrow, non-negotiable” the redhead says.
“Of course, no missions tomorrow, especially for Y/N” Maria promises, finishing the meeting. You’re about to stand up when you look at her, confused.
“What do you mean, especially me?”
“You’re going to the graduation at SHIELD’s DC academy” she reminds you. “You didn’t forget about it, right? You’re giving the comencement speech and everything”
“I’ll handle the bio weapon and you give the speech” you turn to Steve and he smiles.
“You’ll do fine”
What a week.
It’s only Wednesday.
—
You’ll kill Maria.
She should have mentioned that the speech was followed by a luncheon and then half of DCs politicians looking to have a word with you about their projects for national and international cooperation.
By the time you’re back to the Compound, the sun is setting and all you want to do is find Natasha and go back home.
“They left for a mission. Won’t be back until Friday” Tony says as soon as you enter the kitchen and you sigh.
“I can’t believe I am about to say this but I can’t wait for you to come back, Tony”
“Yeah, I think Pepper is ready too. Apparently, you can actually have too much of me”
“No shit” you sit on a bar stool as he fixes you a drink. “How’s the wedding planning?”
“Well, we are compromising. She agreed to a very big DJ on a massive stage and I agreed to stepping foot on a church. But she says it’s too much to give Aston Martins for the wedding party”
“For the first time in her life, Pepper is wrong”
“So, you’ll still be my best woman?”
“Only if I get that Aston Martin” you raise your glass and Tony smiles.
“I’ll do my best”
—
Friday is impossibly slow, until it isn’t.
“Suit up” Maria says as soon as you pick up the phone.
“Oh, come on. Natasha’s coming back today, Hill”
“Well, the faster you get here the sooner we’ll finish the mission”
“Fine. Tell Fury I’m expecting to get paid extra hours”
“Take it up with payroll” Fury says and you almost drop your phone.
“Shit. I mean, on my way, sir, director Fury, sir”
You’re in such a hurry that you forget to leave a note for your girlfriend. All you can do is hope you two will finally see each other at the end of the day.
—
“We should do the briefing” Bucky says as soon as you land.
“Oh, hell no. It’s Saturday, we’re not clocking extra hours on a weekend, Buck” you say, carrying the stroopwaffles you bought for Nat. “We should have gotten here like three hours ago”
“We did take a detour on Amsterdam to get you those cookies. And you should really get to the medbay” he says, knowing that if you don’t get properly looked at by a doctor, Natasha will make his life hell.
“Fine” you agree, if only because your shoulder is killing you.
In the end, it was dislocated and you have to use an arm sling and rest for the next week and a half. The team is already overworked, and you feel slightly guilty at the idea of not helping for a few days.
Bucky drives you to your apartment, and you’re happy to see Nat’s home.
“Heeey, sorry. I was supposed to be back yesterday but things got crazy” you greet at the door and Natasha rushes to your side.
“What happened? Are you ok? Why didn’t you call me to pick you up at the Compound?”
“Wow, ok. It’s ok” Natasha’s hands go over every inch of your body, looking for more injuries. You stop them with your own, squeezing the hand that is on your cheek. Green eyes finally connect with yours and you smile. “Hi”
“Stop” Natasha says, rolling her eyes.
“I’m ok. Just a small injury. I’m fine, really”
“I can’t believe I want Tony to be back” she sighs and you laugh.
“That’s what I said”
“What do you have here?” Natasha takes the box from your hand and her eyes light up.
“I know they are your favorite. And all I had to do was promise Bucky no one would make him dance at the wedding”
“I love you”
“I love you too” you say, feeling Natasha’s lips meeting yours in a short and sweet kiss.
“I got you pizza and wine” she says when you break apart.
“Ok, I love you even more now”
Natasha smiles, always happy to hear you say those words.
Insisting on taking care of you, she brings a bunch of pillows to the couch, and once you finish eating, you take the arm sling off, resting against her chest.
“Raining” you mutter, listening to the drops hit against the window. The sound lulls you both, and pretty soon the credits of the movie you’re watching are rolling.
“Bed?” Natasha offers and you nod. Even if you already slept, the jet lag and exhaustion of the week are enough to have you both snoring in record time.
You don’t wake up until the sun is filtering through the blinds, and you rub your eyes. Natasha is still hugging you, her lips tickling your shoulder as she speaks.
“Breakfast?”
“Sure. In a minute” you squeeze her arms, sinking further in her embrace.
In that moment, you realise it’s not a boring life you want.
You want Natasha by your side, no matter if it’s a week full of work or a lazy Sunday morning.
“I love you, Tasha” you say, thinking she’s back to sleep.
You can tell she’s smiling by the way her lips move against your neck.
“Love you too, detka”
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'tis the damn season
10k, modern au, smut 🤫, good old fashioned running into your hot ex bf at your family's christmas party when you already feel weird about coming home, you know?? since it's so long, i recommend reading on ao3. but you're welcome to read the whole thing under the cut!
“More hot cocoa?”
Anya shook her head. “I think I’m too warm.”
The house was stifling and warm now with the fireplace going and this whole crowd crammed into the living room, and Anya, for once in her life, found herself a little too hot for another warm beverage.
Vlad lifted a brow at her, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a flask. “You sure?”
She had to stifle a laugh. “In that case…” she let him tip a shot into her mug before refilling. Coming home would always be strange and uncomfortable, but this man, who was more like a loveable uncle than an old family friend at this point, was always a delight to visit with. And now that she was in the latter half of her twenties she could always count on Vlad to supply her with whatever was in his flask. “How was Buenos Aires?”
“Oh, lovely and sunny as ever,” Vlad said happily. “Lily loved it. Though, Livadia is still her favorite.” Since they got married, they’d gone on at least one extravagant trip a year, and Anya could barely keep up with their itinerary. “How are you getting on? Is Paris as wonderful as I remember it?”
Anya felt her jaw tighten, just slightly. But she managed a smile. “Lovely and sunny as ever.”
“Good!” he gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze, unaware of the lie. He was about to say something else, but she was saved by the door squeaking open, the sound of stomping boots, the howl of the wind, a gust of hellos and welcomes. Vlad shot to his feet from the couch, nearly spilling his boozy hot cocoa. “Well, it’s good to see you, my boy! How was the drive?”
A laugh. “Slippery.”
The sound of his voice from the foyer made her heart leap to her throat. She knew he was going to be here. It wasn’t a surprise. But she felt her pulse in her jumping under neck all the same.
Dmitry was still carefully toeing his wet boots off of his feet when Anya made her way to say hello. He didn’t see her at first. Vlad was talking his ear off, other neighbors were trying to reintroduce themselves to him, Olga’s children were hugging his calves, and he was still crouched over and trying not to get the floor wet. At first she could convince herself nothing had changed at all.
But then he rose to his full height, and— no, he was not the same whatsoever. Somehow even taller. Still too handsome, with his dimpled cheeks and sharp jawline and soft brown hair and kind, warm eyes. But in the years since she had last seen him he had lost that youthful roundness of his face, chiseling his cheekbones even more, the boyish flush gone.
But his smile, when their eyes met and he lifted just one side of his mouth, like he couldn’t believe his luck, was like something from a time capsule, and suddenly she was seventeen years old and stupid all over again.
“Hey,” he finally said to her, his rich voice breaking through the others with ease, like a knife through butter.
She tried for another smile in return. “Hey.”
It appeared that was as far as they would get. People wove between them and bombarded him with greetings but those honey warm eyes never left hers. Anya opened her mouth, finally thinking of something normal to ask, when someone else came barging in the narrow entryway.
“Thank god you’re here,” Maria gasped, almost theatrically out of breath. “Please come into the kitchen and fix it. Tatya is convinced the mayo for the deviled eggs is fine, but there’s just something not right and I need someone with good taste to make her come to her senses.”
She was tugging his arm and he about lost his balance. “All right, all right, I’m happy to help.”
He and Anya shared another look before he was gone.
Dmitry Sudayev. One of the many reasons she could never come home, not really. But also probably the only reason she still did.
An arm came around Anya’s shoulders. “Help me refill the punch,” Olga asked in a way that was very much implying this task had nothing to do with the punch. Anya had no choice but to walk in step with her oldest sister.
She helped carry the dishes of citrus slices and pitcher to the drink table. “Is it okay that he’s here?” Olga asked in a low voice while she stirred the punch bowl. “Do you want me to shoo him out?”
Anya bit her lip. “It’s fine, Olya.” Her sister lifted her eyes to her in unforgiving disbelief. But Anya, upon even more reflection, believed she was being honest. “Really. That was all a long time ago.”
Olga pursed her lips. “Three years is still a long time to be with someone, Nastya.”
“I know, but— we were so young.” Anya waved her hand, trying to dismiss it all. As if he still wasn’t one of the most influential people in her life, whether he was in it or not. “I haven’t seen him in— in years.” She had lost count of the time spent away. But when she sat down and did the math, she hadn’t been back home in nearly a decade. “It will be good to catch up with him.”
Olga studied her, searching for the catch, the hesitancy. She had always been able to see right through each and every one of them. Sometimes it was comforting, knowing how fiercely protective her family was of her, but other times, like right now, it reminded her too much of Mamma when she was picking a fight. “You could come home more often, you know.”
Anya walked right into that one, didn’t she. “No,” she shook her head, “I really can’t.”
Olga smiled sadly. “Okay. If you’re sure. About— him, I mean.”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
A blur of squealing children crashed at their feet, and Olga was whisked away, leaving Anya to her own devices. The moment was over. Not alone, though, not in this house, not with this crowd. She didn’t quite recognize some of the faces. Others she knew, but couldn’t place their names and she prayed they wouldn’t come talk to her. Maybe her little corner by the punch bowl was safe for now. Speakers blared classic Christmas carols, the fire crackled, wind howled against the frosted windows, someone hollered a laugh at some ridiculous joke, her nieces were squealing and running underfoot. She caught the eye of her father from across the room. He gave her a wink before returning to his conversation.
This weekend wasn’t all bad. She loved her nieces and nephew with everything in her, and it had been good to catch up with her sisters. Alexei was due to arrive tomorrow. Last night she and Maria had decided to bake cookies for some reason, nearly in tears laughing at something stupid with their fingers caked in dough, like they were giggling little girls again.
But. It was this. These parties, this lifestyle, that was slowly sucking the life out of her.
Anya wasn’t sure what this made her, but she couldn’t help the resentment growing inside of her, for some reason. That her family was too good and wonderful to leave without feeling guilt tainting her newfound independence.
“This looks good.”
She woke from her dark thoughts to find Dmitry standing there, thumbing a plastic chinet cup, warm eyes on her. “It’s not too bad.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. He helped himself to a scoop of punch and he leaned against the wall next to her, his arm not quite brushing hers. Was he always this tall? There was no way. He had at least a full foot on her. He had always been muscular, but now his shoulders seemed to have broadened even more in her absence, filling out his cable knit sweater easily. The collar of his button up underneath the wool was crooked and poking out, and her fingers twitched with the urge to fix it.
Instead she asked, “Are the deviled eggs saved?”
He cracked a smile, a sliver of white teeth. “It was a close call, but yes, they indeed will be edible.”
“Thank god.”
He was still smiling when he tilted his cup back for a sip. “How long has it been? Five years?”
Anya wiped her hand on her jeans. It wasn’t like they parted on bad terms— things just kind of fizzled out after she left, which would have happened with any relationship, strong or not. But she felt strangely nervous to be around him again all the same. He still smelled like the crisp snow outside, but with a little clove, a little cinnamon. She had to stop herself from outright sniffing him like a freak. “Eight.”
“Damn. Time flies, I guess.” He dropped a brow. “But… wouldn’t I have seen you when you came home for the holidays?”
She shook her head. “Almost every year the family has been out of town for Christmas.”
Sometimes they visited her in Paris. Sometimes they ventured elsewhere. Those trips helped, if she was honest. She could come and go on her own terms, travel separately, slip away to do something touristy just to have a moment to herself. And none of those places had any memories rotting their walls.
Dmitry nodded. “That’s right.”
There was a pause, nothing but Sinatra and the ambient chatter filling the space between them. She fished for another topic. “I hear you got an apartment.”
“Yep. Right on the town square.”
She smiled. “Moving on up in the world, huh.”
He laughed and ducked his head. Against his cheek his eyelashes were thick, dark, long. Always beautiful. “It’s not Paris, but I do have my own washer and dryer unit.”
“You made it!”
“Living the dream.”
They shared smiles, but Anya felt that sadness creeping up her stomach, making her look down at her cup again. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch.”
“Don’t be.” He shrugged. “You actually made it out. Like— like we talked about.”
Like they talked about. Whispering plans of escape from this dead end town in a parked car, or in the middle of the night with his arms around her and a laptop playing a movie they had long stopped watching, or in a booth at the diner they always went to after school because it had the best fries, their feet touching under the table. Fantasizing loading up his car and driving west as far as they could go, or booking a flight to Paris with nothing but backpacks on their shoulders and cash in their pockets. Longing for a grander life than the dull monotony that was dealt to them. To see just how big the world could be, how big they could be.
She did make it out. But what was the cost?
Leaving him behind, her heart whispered. But she ignored the thought, because her heart was acting like a stupid seventeen year old girl again and nothing productive came from that.
She was about to respond when a hysterical cry came from the hallway.
“What a disaster!”
Anya and Dmitry exchanged a microscopic, knowing look, before Anya mustered up some energy to leave her corner of safety and investigate.
Mamma was weeping, three daughters flanking her protectively, petting her and offering gentle and logical words of comfort. “It will be okay, Mamma,” one of them was saying, “People won’t even notice,” said another.
“Of course they’ll notice,” their mother shooed them away. “I feel a headache coming on. The party is ruined.”
“What’s the matter?” Anya asked.
Olga answered, “We are out of ice.”
“Ice?” Anya should’ve known. There were no such things as real disasters in this house. “Is there none in the ice maker in the freezer?”
“We are all out.”
Maria gave Anya a tired look. “And everyone is parked in the driveway, so we can’t get the car out of the garage without alerting everyone. And we’re about to be snowed in, anyway.”
“We could just go outside…” Anya started, trying to lighten the mood. “Chip off some icicles from the roof and we’ll be all set.”
No one laughed. It wasn’t even that funny, anyway. “We can’t have a party without ice,” Mamma went on, dabbing at her eyes theatrically. “This is so embarrassing. It’s been such a stressful week— I’m afraid this is setting me over the edge.”
“We need ice?” Dmitry appeared, as if by magic, his voice once again alerting Anya, like some kind of beacon. Always here to fix things with the gentlest solutions. “I was the last one here, I can run out and grab some.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that— not in this weather.”
“It’s really no trouble, I put chains on my tires already, and—”
“Oh, would you?” Her mother patted his cheek, suddenly relieved. “We can always count on you to be our best errand boy, Dmitry. Thank you.”
Anya frowned in appalled shock. But before she could scold her mother for belittling him so easily Dmitry only smiled with good humor and told her, “Any time.”
Anya felt him brush past her on his way to the foyer. She followed her family into the kitchen. There was more talk about the party, how well or not well it was going, was the punch bowl refilled? Yes. Okay. What about the charcuterie selection? No, let’s get the stuff out of the fridge— what do you mean we’re out of the top shelf aged Romano blend? More weeping. Anya sighed and made her way to the door.
Dmitry was still putting on his layers, thankfully, when she started stuffing her feet into her boots. She could feel him halting, watching her in confusion.
“I’m coming with you,” she explained. Where was her scarf? “Mamma— we need more cheese.”
“Ah,” he said, sounding like that explained absolutely nothing. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to just tell me to pick some up while I’m out?”
“No, because I know which one she wants, and if they don’t have it I know what her second choice would be, and if that choice fails I know her third, and that would be too complicated to explain.”
When she looked up at him he nodded. “Ah.” And then there was that stupid smile that she had never been able to resist, not when she was seventeen, nor now, when she was twenty-seven, either, apparently. “Bundle up, Romanov.”
Dmitry’s car was still the same old Volvo he drove ten years ago. There was a single dent in the passenger door, a new air freshener hanging from the rear view, a tear in the upholstery. But it was running well, he took good care of it. He took care of what was his.
Aside from the Christmas tunes quietly playing on the stereo they were quiet as they made their way to the grocery. Anya had watched him brush the snow off the windows, losing the battle against the precipitation falling down now. The windshield was still foggy when he pulled out of the driveway. It wasn’t a long drive, but it was dark and the snowfall was thick, and he was driving slow, in case there were any slick spots. She couldn’t help but study his profile. That familiar bump in his once-broken nose, thick eyebrows, doll lips, dimpled cheeks. Both his hands were wrapped securely around the steering wheel but, in spite of the less than ideal driving conditions, he seemed more relaxed out here without the gaggle of party guests to contend with. She supposed they still had that in common.
He declared, rather sudden, “I’m fully convinced your mother still hates me.”
Anya snorted. His eyes were on the road but he was smiling, joking with her, doing his best to keep things easy. This was the Dmitry she was familiar with— comfortable in his space, soft edges, a little sleep deprived. So she decided to joke with him too. “I think she thinks you’re the evil boy who took my virginity.”
He coughed, surprised. “But I— didn’t!”
“You didn’t.”
He didn’t. Three years was a long time to date someone, yes, but they were so young…
There was that burning twist of embarrassment again, on his behalf. “I’m sorry she called you that. Back there.”
“Don’t be. I run errands for her all the time.”
“You… hang out with my family?”
“No, I run errands, if they need something.” Dmitry shrugged. “I don’t know, with Alexei off in med school, and everyone else moved out and settled, I just think… I don’t know, it must be lonely. And it’s not like she knows better.”
She shifted in her seat, looking at him square, trying to read him. “You seem so different.”
In the dark, his eyebrows rose. “Am I?”
“Well— like… you’re… mostly the same,” she said, tilting her head. “But a little different.”
“Different how?”
“You’re… taller, for one.”
He laughed. “Taller? Have you considered that you just stopped growing in fifth grade?”
She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”
“Is that the only difference you see?”
She pushed her mouth to the side. “You dress better now, too.”
His lips pulled, showing his teeth with his grin. “You mean disgusting old hoodies and sweats weren’t all the rage fifteen years ago?”
“It’s a compliment.”
“A backhanded one.”
“A real one. God.” She shook her head, facing the windshield again. “But I don’t know. Maybe different isn’t the right word. You just… seem really happy to me.”
He shot a quick glance at her. “You know… I might be.”
She watched, waited. He wet his lips while he steered them left at the intersection. “I don’t know. It’s— it’s not the life I expected, I guess, but… it’s not too bad. I like my job and my coworkers. I like where I live. I can’t… really ask for much else.”
She felt that twist in her gut again, a little pinch. It wasn’t envy, exactly, but it had the same effect. “Where do you work, again?”
“Nothing fancy. I just fix computers at some corporate office downtown.”
“What do you mean? That’s so fancy!” She pushed his shoulder and he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
With some more gentle probing, he told her a little more, bit by bit, of his life here. He slowly chipped away at his degree one class at a time when he could afford it, worked odd jobs waiting tables and even bartended for a time, lived with Vlad until he had enough saved for the little apartment above the post office on the town square.
Maybe it was selfish, but she allowed herself a moment to consider this, what it would’ve been like if she had stayed. Watching Dmitry grow less moody and instead channel his feelings into helpful and selfless tasks, driving through the snow to get ice for the holiday party every year, living above a post office, Dmitry’s eyes and hands always available to look at. And some small part of her longed for that life, the life she missed, almost as much as she had once longed to escape. The alluring appeal of what could have been.
Maybe she would be happy, too.
But staying here… it had nearly eaten her alive. The itch— the burn— to go, to get out, was too intense. She didn’t think she would’ve survived another year here. So when she got into her dream college, she had packed her car and didn’t look back. Didn’t think about how the one person who really, really understood her couldn’t follow yet. Didn’t think about how that distance ruined them.
They parked in the nearly empty lot, crossing coats over their chests to keep the warmth from getting lost in the biting chill. It was the kind of cold that reached down to your bones, freezing you from the inside out.
Anya expected that from him, honestly. To be just as cold as this wind. It was what she deserved.
But Dmitry was all warmth and easy smiles, letting her walk ahead to the dairy section. Maybe he really had changed. Maybe this… maybe this was good, then. That he had grown so much. Or maybe he was being too forgiving.
“You seem different to me, too,” he said, watching her search for the goddamn right cheese.
She lost focus, eyes drifting to him. “Me?”
“Yeah. You’re…” he wet his bottom lip, waving his hand, searching for the right word. “Quiet.”
Quiet. Huh. She looked back at the shelf of artisan cheese. “I guess coming home does that to me,” she finally said.
“I know,” he said softly, and something about the tone of his voice made her meet his eyes again. He knew. He knew how hard it was, coming home from college, being bombarded with questions why she couldn’t just be content with her lot in life like everyone else. Why she couldn’t just settle and marry a rich man in accounting and have a bunch of babies. Dmitry had always been her one escape, her one thing in life she could call hers, not the family’s. Maybe it wasn’t exactly healthy, but. They had found relief in only one another.
And here they were. Hiding from her family, yet again, escaping in the smallest ways.
His warm eyes swam through hers. “How’s Paris?”
She sighed. “Paris is… is really good.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. It’s… honestly? It’s the fucking best.” She finally found the Romano blend she was looking for, snatching it as she talked. “I get to see all these really cool places all the time and go to museums and try good food and meet really awesome people and— and it’s beyond anything I could’ve dreamed it would be.”
“Yeah?” They walked side by side to the front of the store. “I’ll bet you’ve got some good stories.”
“I do. It’s just…” she bit her lip, watching as his smile slowly fell into something more serious. “I feel a little out of my depth.”
“Really?” He pulled his chin back in surprise. “I never thought that was possible for you.”
He said it like he meant it, which made her confession all the more difficult. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“‘Course.”
“I don’t… really know what I’m doing.”
He smiled, sad, and bumped his shoulder with hers. “Welcome to the club.”
And for some reason, that gentle gesture made something inside her chest loosen, a valve opening. So many people had offered her advice, both solicited and unsolicited, and so far, his four little words made her feel better than anything anyone else had said.
Like if Dmitry thought she was all right, then maybe she could start thinking that, too.
God, she missed him.
They paid for the ice and the cheese and made their way back to the car. The cold didn’t feel as lonely and bitter as it did before, now she welcomed it. Compared to the stifling heat of her house the wind was refreshing, expanding in her lungs, crisp in her nose. Like she could breathe again.
Snow crunched under tires while Dmitry slowly inched his car out of the parking lot. The town was buried under a hearty layer of white but Anya still recognized the street. The shops, the pharmacy, the gas station, all where she had spent her youth. And then there were new buildings in the place of the old, too shiny and sleek and colorless for anyone who lived here. Dmitry quietly pointed out the chain restaurant that just popped up at this intersection a few months ago.
She had left this place because it felt like nothing about it would ever change. But now, seeing how some of it had changed in her absence, she found herself wishing it had stayed the same.
“We could turn here,” Dmitry started slowly as they approached the intersection of her subdivision, “or—”
“Why wouldn’t we? That’s my street.”
“Or…” he went on, “we could just drive around…”
Oh. He was offering her an out. Like he used to do. Giving her the opportunity to escape, just a little longer. She wet her lips. When her arm brushed against his in the middle he didn’t pull away. Neither did she. “I think they can wait on the ice a little longer.”
He shot her a grin. “Just one more loop around the block won’t hurt.”
No, it wouldn’t. A few extra minutes alone with Dmitry never hurt anyone.
The party came and went, and was about as fun and stressful as Anya knew it would be. Everyone filed out around midnight. Vlad and Lily crashed in the guest room, and somehow convinced Dmitry to stay the night as well, who took the couch.
For some reason Anya could feel his presence from all the way upstairs in her bedroom.
Anya was still wide awake, still in her sweater and jeans, too restless to get settled. Too much on her mind to read. She stood from her desk chair and decided something warm and soothing would help her fall asleep. The house was silent as she crept down the hall and down the stairs, assuming everyone else was long asleep, save for the wind whistling outside. After several hours of noise and chatter and songs that all sounded the same, the silence was a luxury.
But when she rounded the corner there was a lamp illuminating the living room. Dmitry was reclining on the couch with a book in his hand, one arm propped under his head. They locked eyes.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
They got stuck on this greeting for the second time that night. Then Anya thought she should probably explain why she was sneaking into the kitchen. “I can’t sleep, so I’m making some tea.”
“I can’t either,” he answered, waving his book.
He kicked off his throw blanket and sat up. He was still in his clothes from tonight, but the sight of him stretching, bleary eyed and sleepy, was almost too intimate for her to handle, so she had to glance away.
“Want me to make you something?” he asked suddenly.
She raised an eyebrow. “A drink?”
“Yeah. Like— like we used to do.”
He said it shyly, almost, like he was realizing how stupid the suggestion sounded once he spoke it out loud. She nodded. “Something with cinnamon.”
“Cinnamon. Got it.” He shot her a smile while they filed into the kitchen. “Booze?”
“Sure.”
The kitchen was in a state after the party— clean, yes, but with the assistance of people who no longer lived or had never lived in this home many of the dishes were placed in the wrong cabinets. But Dmitry was quiet, careful not to slam drawers shut, silently finding what he needed. A saucepan. Cinnamon sticks. What little was left in the bottle of whiskey from tonight. A pint of Tatiana’s oat milk from the fridge. A box of tea bags. Apple cider packets.
Dmitry really had always been beautiful. In some ways he knew it— his perfect hair, his boyish dimples— but in other, quieter ways, he didn’t. How somber he could get. How soft he looked when he was tired. How his smile lit up his entire face, an entire room. Anya watched, transfixed by his hands. Always so sure of himself. Always intentional. Comfortable in his space. She envied him a little.
“What were you reading?” She asked instead of letting herself think too much. He hadn’t been much of a reader back then, admittedly, until she convinced him to read a few Terry Pratchett novels with her one summer. And then he started having a paperback folded in his back pocket everywhere he went.
“Oh,” he shrugged, as if embarrassed she noticed he still kept that habit. Leftover from what they once were to each other. “Vonnegut.”
“Again?”
He sighed. “Look— he’s a good writer, okay?”
“I’m not judging you by any means,” she smiled. He poured his concoction from the saucepan that had been simmering for a few quiet minutes into two mugs and leaned against the counter next to her. It was still steaming when he put one into her hands. A few years ago, or in another life, she would’ve hopped up on the counter, kicking her legs girlishly, but her feet stayed planted on the hardwood floor. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”
“Don’t be. I can’t focus, anyway. And besides,” he lifted his mug to hers, “this is more delicious than Kurt Vonnegut.”
“How could anything be more delicious than Kurt Vonnegut?”
He rolled his eyes, but took his sip, clearly waiting for her to try it. And she did and— holy shit, this was a masterpiece. He used to take her tea and doctor it up for her for fun, adding a few extra spices or experimenting with ways to froth the milk, but this was miles ahead of the silly ideas they would come up with. The warmth from the spices, the kick of the cinnamon, the smooth creaminess of the milk, and that dash of apple…
Before she could compliment him, he said, into his mug, “And, well, you know how I can never really say no to you.”
He said it lightly, like he was teasing. But Anya felt her stomach clench all the same. Her stupid stupid, stupid seventeen year old girl heart.
Anya set her mug down on the counter between them. “It’s always scared me a little,” she heard herself confessing quietly, before she thought better of it. “How much you’re willing to give me.”
Dmitry’s eyes were molten, warm and soft, malleable, giving too much away. “Me too.” He straightened, facing his torso towards hers. “But maybe there’s…”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of?”
“Yeah,” he whispered. For one fraction of a second her eyes flickered, watching the Cupid’s bow of his upper lip, and back up again. Her fingers touched his, still warm from the tea. “Maybe.”
So that was how Anya found herself wedged between her childhood bedroom door and the solid body of her high school boyfriend, hips and mouths locked together, like they were hormonal teenagers all over again.
Coming home would always be complicated. But this? The way she felt about him, everything about Dmitry himself, how good his mouth felt melded to hers, the way he could make her feel seen and safe and adventurous all at once, was somehow always the simplest truth in the world. And she was starting to think that would never change.
His hand came up around the nape of her neck, tongue swiping the inside of her upper lip, and— yeah. This. All of this. It was so easy.
She still didn’t know where they stood, really, and she knew this probably wasn’t a good idea. But they had always had chemistry this way, with their bodies, taking no time to get reacquainted. They didn’t even really have to talk for him to know what she wanted. And this was more fun and easy to think about than… everything else going on.
Just for the weekend, she thought. Just for the weekend they could pretend. That she was his.
His hand slid up under her sweater and he had her gasping when he squeezed her breast. “Oh my god—”
“Shhh,” he brushed a thumb over her lips. “Don’t want to wake the whole house, do we?”
She shook her head, catching her breath now that his mouth wasn’t on hers, trying to steady it. Her hands were zealously roaming his chest, his stomach, his neck, as if trying to convince her skin this wasn’t a dream. His smell of clove and pine was overwhelming now. If his collar was crooked before it was a mess now, complete with his hair mused and cheeks a splotchy pink, the way they were always flushed when he was younger. She smiled a little. “This takes me back.”
He grinned. “Me too.” He looked around, as if noticing their surroundings the first time. “This room has… not changed at all, I see.” No. It hadn’t. Not her boyband posters on her door, the purple lampshades, the pink shag rug in the shape of a heart, the books on her shelves, postcards pinned on the wall. Another time capsule.
“Haven’t been home to change it.”
“Ah, right.”
Instead of talking about that some more, she kissed him again, continuing where they left off, his hand still cupping her cheek. He tasted like the tea they shared— all cinnamon and spice. He had always been weirdly good at kissing, even when they were teenagers, but now his skills seemed to have sharpened, using his tongue a little more intentionally rather than as a curious experiment. Her leg lifted, looping around his hip, and he caught her thigh, his other hand still cupping at her bra. Even though they were rocking together merely over their clothes she still felt a zing of want zip right through her at the feel of him. All hard and needy and wanting just as much as her.
He yanked himself away again, his head lifting out of her reach. “Shit— wait— I don’t have a condom.”
She rolled her eyes, pushing him away from her. “Ye of little faith.” He lifted a surprised eyebrow. “In my purse, dummy.”
“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “So you’re just… ready to go anywhere then, huh.”
“Better to be prepared and embarrassed than take the risk.”
His smile was small, knowing. If he was anyone else, she would almost call it mocking, but not with him. Never him. No, he knew her too well, even now. He was, dare she call it, fond of her for being so practical.
Their lips met again in the middle. He sighed hard against her cheek, smile dropping while she deepened the kisses, slow and soft. She had her hand on his chest, advancing forwards while he stumbled backwards. When she shoved him back and he landed on the bed, the mattress squeaked noisily, and Dmitry winced. “Well, this won’t work,” he whispered.
She was standing between his knees, her hands on his shoulders and his on her hips. She bit her lip, glancing over at the rug...
“You mean,” he started, deadpan, “you want me to fuck you on the floor.”
“No, I want to fuck you on the floor.”
His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “No way,” he said, but the flush of his cheeks meant his protests were insincere. “You deserve better than an old shag rug from 2008, Anya.”
She huffed. “Fine, you can let yourself out then.”
“No no no.” When she started to pull away his fingers came around her belt loops in her jeans and he tugged her even closer. “Just kidding. The shag rug is a fantasy of mine, actually.”
That made her laugh, she had to cover her mouth. He pulled her wrist away and kissed it, then kissed her lips, smiling against her, still holding her by the belt loops of her jeans. And then his hands were lifting the hem of her sweater, so she raised her arms over her head and he peeled it off of her completely. His eyes stayed on hers but his hands, warm and soft, found her sides, holding her ribs. He stood again and he let her lift his sweater off of him. Let her unbutton his shirt, one button at a time.
He had always been strong. But he had only grown more sculpted, more muscular, more solid, with age. Her hands skimmed over the strong mounds of his chest and down his solid abdomen. Smooth skin, endless, warm, alive. His flush went from his cheeks down his neck, over his chest, creeping all the way down his stomach.
“My eyes are up here, Romanov.”
She felt her face warm and she smiled up at him. “Are you getting shy on me?”
His lips brushed over hers when he asked, “Do you want me to be?”
She played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I want you to be you.”
“That’s what I thought,” he whispered before his mouth closed over her top lip. His hands slid up her back and when she felt the unclasping of her bra she shivered a little. That too was tossed away. And his arms were tight around her, chest to chest, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat.
They had never quite gotten to this point, back then. Sure, they made out, they touched each other, but they always had at least most of their clothes on and stopped before anything could really happen. But now…
“God, if eighteen-year-old me could see myself right now…”
Dmitry was lowering himself on the ground to lean against the bedpost, kissing her stomach, guiding her—still by the belt loops— to sit on his lap, her knees bracketing his hips, their lungs touching. She arched her back into him, and he happily let his hands slide up her ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts. “Worth the wait?”
“You have…” his mouth came down to the side of her neck, warm palms on her bare breasts, “no fucking idea.”
Her head tilted back at his ministrations, trying to stifle her sighs while his hands kneaded at her. He was firm, confident, but also gentle. Soft. She bit her lip. “We never exactly made it this far before, huh?”
He lifted his head, their eyes meeting, his hands halting. “We don’t have to go further, if—”
“Are you kidding?” Her hands came up to the side of his face. “This is the most interesting thing to happen since I got home.”
The corner of his mouth curled. “That’s a pretty, uh, low bar…”
“You know what I mean.” She brushed his cheeks with her thumbs, then tangled her fingers in his hair. “Please, just— keep touching me, Dima.”
Now he was fully smiling. “Okay.”
And he did touch her. But not with his hands.
His arms came around her lower back, pulling their stomachs flush together, while she had her shoulders and head tilted back for him, and his mouth came down, dragging over her throat, her chest, like he was savoring the very flavor of her skin. And then his tongue was licking at her nipple and she had to close her eyes. His teeth nipped at the soft skin of the inside of her breast, making her hiss.
“Hey, no hickies.”
He practically growled. “Logically, I know that, but… if i’m being honest…” he was still sucking kisses down the center line of her chest, “part of me really doesn’t give a shit.”
She smirked. “This part?” she asked, grinding down hard and pointedly on him. He groaned.
“Sure, yeah, whatever. Sue me.”
She tugged his hair so he would look at her. “You’re gonna need a really good lawyer, Sudayev.”
He laughed. “How about…” he lifted her at her hips, shifting them both until she was on her back, “I do some community service.”
Anya allowed a smile, bit her lip. “The court might agree with that.”
“Jury rests?”
“Court adjourned!”
Dmitry started tugging her jeans down, struggling with the fabric, impatient. “God, I— I really fucking missed you.”
She missed him too, more than she realized. Not just this— his warm and solid body, his handsome face, his ability to make her stop breathing— but all of him. His laugh. The way he could pull a giggle out of her on her worst day. The way he was the only soul who could spot every one of her fake smiles. The way they could dream together, talk together, sit in silence together.
He was shoving one of her pillows between her hips and the floor, and grabbing another throw blanket for good measure. The sweetness, the consideration behind his gesture, broke her heart a little bit.
“There’s no one else like you, Dima.”
Dark eyes met hers. Soft. So soft. “Is that a good thing?”
She nodded. More than he knew.
“Hmm.” He hesitated just a moment more, then his eyes dropped between her legs, and she felt herself burning from the inside out. “Do you need help staying quiet?”
She grinned, for some reason. His confidence was bordering on arrogance. “I think I can handle it.”
“You sure?” He pressed a single, wet hot kiss onto the soft skin on the inside of her thigh. “Because I really, really don’t want your family to know what we’re up to. So it’s okay if you—”
“It’s fine, Dmitry, I’ll manage. Just—”
She gasped when his tongue parted her folds in one long swipe. Fuck. She hadn’t expected him to feel this good. Her hips squirmed under him when his mouth engulfed her, but his hands quickly pinned her in place, so as not to interrupt his work.
After a minute of this he lifted his head and a single eyebrow at her, knowing smirk on his lips. “All good?”
God, he was so smug. She nodded. “Fine enough,” she said, trying to feign nonchalance, but it was hard with how heavy she was breathing, how much she needed his mouth on her again, so much she was burning.
He laughed silently, like he knew. He fucking knew. “Just checking.”
When he resumed, she had to bite on a knuckle to keep from making any more noises, breathing hard through her nose. Fuck.
When she had been with other guys, this part was… never all that memorable. Just something to get ready for the main event. So she had half expected Dmitry to treat it the same way, because what reason did she have to believe otherwise? But… she was eating those words now. It wasn’t like he was even doing anything particularly spectacular. But maybe it was how he was doing it. Intentional, making her wait for it, generous. Not trying to rush her through it like others had, but rather taking his time, enjoying it. In a way that was so playfully and irrevocably him.
And before she knew it, that pressure in her lower stomach was already mounting, so high already she wasn’t even prepared for it. The only warning she managed was snagging the hair at the top of his head. Because if she spoke it aloud, it would come out in a loud, pathetic moan, or a shout. And they couldn’t have that. Not tonight.
His eyes darted up to hers. A shiver raced up her spine. He stayed right where he was, continuing his ministrations, but faster and faster with each cycle, somehow understanding exactly what she needed before she could even think to voice it herself. A tightness coiled within her and she had to cling hard onto the fibers of the rug.
“Breathe,” he whispered against her. And she let out an exhale she didn’t know she was holding.
And that was it. Gravity pulled her over the edge, and she was left gasping silently, her back arching off the floor. She had to shut her eyes, but Dmitry was right there with her, his presence impossible to ignore, even for a second.
“So good,” he was whispering, over and over again, kissing his way back up her body. “You’re so fucking pretty.”
Her body relaxed completely, breathing heavily and melting into the floor, eyes sleepy, but she still found the side of his face, pulling him close enough to kiss. He grinned against her. He was so warm, so solid, so sturdy above her. One of her hands slipped into his hair, and when she wove her fingers through the strands he exhaled heavily. Content.
“Before we do anything else,” he started, “you should probably know, while you were gone, I was sort of seeing—”
“Don’t,” she stopped him with a finger to his lips, “I don’t even care.” And then she was fumbling with the button of his jeans. “As long as I don’t have to share you this weekend, I don’t give a shit who you’ve been sleeping with.”
He smiled a little. “You never have to share me.”
She didn’t want to know, didn’t need to think about that right now. She didn’t think he needed to know she only ever thought of him when she was with other men, either. Give and take.
Taking off his pants took longer than necessary because she kept kissing him, and his hand was cupping her face, so they were moving a little uncoordinated, a little unpracticed, laughing softly into mouths. And then he was finally stepping out of his boxers and they were both bare, miles of warm skin on skin, patient and unrushed as ever. She felt like she was baring her very soul to him.
He handed her her purse and she dug through until she found the condom wrapper. Dmitry was arranging the blanket around him, so she “wouldn’t get rug burn,” he explained, and the gesture made affection well up in her so suddenly she could almost cry. She missed him, she missed him, she missed him.
“This feels like a dream,” Dmitry rasped, gasping a little while she rolled the condom on him before straddling his thighs. He was in the middle of the floor, propping himself up with his hands behind him. “I never thought— I never thought this would happen. With you.”
Anya was holding his shoulders and neck, taking her time. She pushed his bangs out of his eyes. It was dark in the room so she couldn’t make out every detail of him, but she’d be damned if she didn’t try while she had the chance. “I had a feeling this would happen someday.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “I think that’s why it’s taken me so long to come home.”
His eyes shone, searching, before his mouth collided with her own. His hands found her hips. She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed him inside her. Without breaking their kiss she moved until she could feel him at her entrance, then she slowly sunk around him. His mouth parted in a silent gasp, breathing hard when she was fully seated on him, while they both took each other in. This was real. This was happening.
When she lifted her hips just a fraction, testing the give, he let out this little moan that made her spine tingle. “Anya— Anya— you feel so much better than— than I ever could’ve—”
Her hand flew up to cover his mouth in panic. She froze, smirking a little. “Do you need help being quiet, Dmitry?”
“No,” he huffed, annoyed and amused at the same time. “You’re still such a brat.”
She grinned. “That’s not very nice to say.”
He sighed, extra dramatic and theatrical, and lamented, “This is also gonna fuck up my back.”
“Your old man back? You’re not even thirty.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m two years younger than you.”
He shrugged. “It’s true.”
“I can’t believe how much you’re complaining when you’re literally about to get laid,” she hissed. He grinned. “I can get up, if you’re so bothered…”
“No,” he repeated, hands tightening on her hips, quite possibly already leaving marks. And he lifted half of his mouth. “I like it. Keep being mean to me.”
She laughed a little, biting her lip. She rolled her hips once more and Dmitry tilted his head back, eyes fluttering shut, like he was praying, or something. And then she was moving for real, trying to feel him everywhere at once. The stretch of him was unbelievable. Her nipples brushed against his warm chest, their stomachs sliding together, and she— she couldn’t get enough of him—
“Slow,” he inhaled the word, “slow, slow, slow.”
Anya didn’t realize how fast she was moving. She let her hips slow to a gentle roll, making love to him the way he deserved, and he was looking at her like she hung the moon, like she was a miracle.
She had been with other men before, of course. They had just moved for a while, eyes shut, until they were done, and then rolled over like nothing happened and that was that. But there was something about Dmitry. Maybe it was his commitment to eye contact, or the way he used his hands, or the ten years of suspense building up to this moment. Or it was just the ache in her for him that had never quite gone away.
“Dima,” she murmured, trying her best to keep her voice steady and quiet. “I really missed you.”
His mouth twitched, nearly smiling, breath fanning her face. “Can’t believe this is what— what we’ve been missing out on—”
So he felt it too, then. How this was better than it was supposed to be. “Fuck— I know.” She couldn’t get close enough to him. Her legs shifted so her ankles were locked around his back, needing to be as close to him as possible, moving back and forth, her arms around his shoulders. His hips were eagerly rocking to meet hers. His hands slowly slid up from her waist to cup her breasts, squeezing and clinging on like a tether, making her feel a little wild and need to move faster.
There wasn’t much movement, not in such an intimate position like this, but it was still beyond anything Anya had ever felt before. With him she could try anything, do anything. Kissing necks and biting earlobes turned to swallowing moans that were too loud for this kind of night turned to simply touching foreheads and just breathing together, unable to properly kiss because they were panting so hard. His arms came around her lower back and her nails dug hard into his shoulders. When she inhaled she could feel him breathing with her, could feel his heart against her own.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he kept whispering. Over, and over, and over again. “I’m so close.”
She was too. She didn’t realize it at first, how this crept up on her. But suddenly there it was and she was about at the point where she couldn’t avoid it anymore. This ending. But he was looking at her like that, so desperate and loving. She cupped the side of his face. “I’m right there with you.”
He kissed her, hard, and she let go, moving without abandon, chasing her own high. And they both reached this crest together, mouths muffling their gasps and moans, hearts drumming against one another. Connected in every possible point of contact.
He exhaled against her, eyes swimming through hers, lips swollen and parted. He was so beautiful. Her hand came up to fold into the hair at the back of his neck. And Dmitry gave her that stupid, crooked smile she fell in love with all those years ago. And suddenly this whole thing was very funny.
Sure, everything was different. But what she had with Dmitry… he would always be able to make her laugh at the most inopportune times.
He slowly flattened himself on his back, chest still heaving, and he rubbed his face. “Jesus.”
She was still smiling, and was about to move to get up off of him but his hands stopped her by holding her thighs.
“No, just— stay, for a minute.” His eyes met hers. “Please.”
Dmitry had told her he could never really say no to her. But little did he know, Anya had that same problem with him sometimes.
So she got comfortable, laying on his chest and tucking herself under his chin. They were still on the floor, shivering a little, and Anya needed to pee, but neither were in a hurry. They already lost so much time.
Dmitry was weaving his fingers in her hair, massaging her scalp. Her eyelids felt so heavy. Her fingers traced little hearts on his chest. And then there was that feeling again, the road not taken, the path that was this that could’ve been her life. The one collateral lost in her escape.
“Does sex make you quiet, too?” he asked.
“No, it’s just— I’m just thinking.”
“You’re thinking really hard…” he went on. She could feel him smiling, feel his need for her to stay present. She needed to do her best to do that, at least. For him. “I can, like, almost hear your brain.”
She took a breath. “I didn’t want— I hated leaving you,” she whispered. He stilled. So she sat up to look at him, to gauge his reaction, even though she knew she was killing the mood where it stood. He looked so perfect with his swollen lips and hair falling into his eyes and his heavy and serious eyelids and lashes. Her chest pinched. “That wasn’t what I intended.”
His expression flickered, just faintly. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“I just— I think I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” he shook his head. “Don’t. You don’t need to.” His thumb stroked her cheek. He chewed his lip, like he was trying to think of the right words to say. So was she. There were just… simply too many things they hadn’t told each other, too many words to cram into this small space between them, into one night, one weekend. But then he smiled, saying simply, “Consider us even.”
Slowly she let herself smile, let herself believe it. “Okay,” she whispered.
“Not that— not that there was a score to settle, or anything.”
She nodded. “I know.”
And she kissed him, soft and slow, and didn’t bother coming up for air.
Only a few hours later, Anya was watching the first signs of sunrise through her window, bundled up in her blankets and a pair of arms in her bed.
It had been disorienting waking up in here this weekend. But now, Dmitry’s arms were grounding, steady and solid, reminding her that last night had indeed not been a beautiful, delusional dream. The dichotomy of things staying the same and changing all at once.
The mattress creaked when she rolled over. There she found Dmitry already awake. The twin bed wasn’t nearly large enough for the two of them, but their bodies were curved together, all warmth and limbs and hair and bedsheet, and Dmitry certainly wasn’t complaining. He smiled softly, nosing her hairline, his arms still enveloping her in his warmth.
“Hey,” he murmured.
“Hey,” Anya whispered back.
“Merry Christmas.”
His smirk was so contagious. “I, like, completely forgot about Christmas.”
“Really? This was once your favorite time of year, from what I remember.”
“It was.” She could feel him breathing against her forehead, his nose squished against her skin, his heartbeat under his collarbone. She didn’t want her foul mood from the weeks before to spoil how unbelievably happy she was right now, but there was still a bit of sadness in her voice. “I dunno. I’ve been feeling a little Grinch-like this year.”
“Well, you know,” he sighed, pretending to be serious, “I consider the Grinch to be an anti-capitalist hero, so—” Anya snorted, wheezing out a laugh before she could cover her mouth. “It’s true!”
“Stop,” she pushed a palm to his face, because she seriously needed to calm down and quit giggling this early in the morning.
“He saw how consumerism was poisoning the holiday and—”
“Stop it.”
Yeah. She missed this. She missed him so much her heart ached.
Dmitry swallowed, watching her, waiting until she recovered, looking almost apologetic. “I should probably sneak out of here before anyone else in this house wakes up.”
“Yeah,” she said. And then she smiled. “Just like old times.”
He grinned, his eyes softening as he looked over her. He pushed a curl over her shoulder. “Almost.”
Almost like old times. He had spent the night in secret before, he had snuck out in the morning before, either through her window or out the front door before dawn, but they had never woken so very naked and satiated back then.
“I know we never exactly did this before,” Anya started, sighing when he started pressing slow, gentle, featherlight kisses on her skin, starting at her shoulder, “but I’m feeling so much deja vu right now.”
Dmitry snorted, his breath tickling her neck. “Christ, I know.” He sighed. “Remember when I snuck out your window and I sprained my ankle?”
She had to bite back a laugh at the memory. “And you lied and said it was from— what did you say? Soccer practice? Did you even play soccer?”
He was laughing silently against her skin, shoulders shaking, “I think the story changed every time I talked about it.”
“Oh my god,” she had to cover part of her face. “We were so stupid.”
“No, I was stupid. You were…” he pulled his head back, eyes meeting hers again. “You were too smart for me. I wasn’t sure if I could ever keep up.”
He said it lightly, but she could hear the self-deprecation lingering there, years of insecurity. She touched the side of his face. Let her thumb brush his cheek, digging into the dimple cutting into his flesh. “Nothing about you had to change,” she said softly. “You’re perfect.”
His lips twitched, then he tilted his face toward her palm, nuzzling her hand. “When do you go back?”
“Monday,” Anya answered.
“Ah.”
The deadline hung in the space between them, stifling the air. There it was. The thing they’ve been avoiding. Reality.
Her hand trailed down his chest, fingers stroking his collar bone, feeling his steady heartbeat. So she would go back to Paris with her whirlwind schedule and her freedom to live how she wanted and her fancy friends to go out with every week. Her friends who, though fun, didn’t know every corner of her soul. Not the way he did. And there she would lay awake and wonder about the boy she left behind across the sea.
Wait for me, she wanted to ask him. It sat on the tip of her tongue. Wait for me while I make my way back to you. I promise it will be worth it.
But she couldn’t ask that of him. And he wasn’t asking her to stay, promising he would make it worth it, if she did. He wouldn’t ask that of her, either.
In the light she could make out the marks she’d dug into him with her nails last night, little red streaks all over his shoulders. Like she was doing everything she could to cling onto him but he would always manage to slip away. No matter how hard she tried.
Dmitry took a breath. “I know you don’t think you fit in with this town anymore,” he rasped, “but I just want you to know, you’ll always fit in with me.”
Something inside her chest clamped down on her heart and squeezed. She took him in, in all his messy glory, with his hair falling into his eyes from all directions and his marked up shoulders and his longing eyes.
For a minute she thought about it— rephrasing what home meant. Home wasn’t this house for a very long time now. Home was no longer her family, as important as they would always be to her.
But maybe now her home could be him, wherever he was. If that was possible.
Not even with him, but just. The thought of him. The feeling of him. Her fondness for him.
Anya nudged his nose with hers and then pressed her lips to his. She planned on just giving him a peck, but he wasn’t having that, tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck, angling his head and opening his jaw to deepen the kiss, making her sigh against his cheek.
She was just beginning to forget the idea of kicking him out of her room altogether— because he was so warm and they deserved to stay here half the day, consequences be damned— when the sound of a door down the hall squeaking open startled them both apart. Dmitry was frozen above her while they held their breath. Another door closed, the sound of running water. Anya silently counted the steps before the original door opened and shut again. She loosed a breath. It was just Maria. Who would go back to sleep for a few hours more.
“Okay,” he whispered, resigned, “I really don’t want to get caught.”
She smiled. “I guess.” Still, he made no effort to shift out of bed. “It’ll cost you, though.”
“Oh?” He propped his head on his hand. “How about… I go pick up some breakfast for you from the bakery?”
“You’ll have to get donuts for the whole house, though, or everyone will think you’re playing favorites.”
He pressed one more kiss against her mouth and whispered, “Who says I’m not?”
Anya rolled her eyes. He clumsily rolled off the bed, his limbs too long and lanky for such a small space, and slowly started plucking his clothes from the floor. She was able to get a good look at him now with the light filtering through her window. Even though they had been tangled up together in the most intimate way last night, it had been too dark to really study him, so the sight of his muscly back made her face warm.
“What are you doing tonight?” She asked, pulling the blankets up to her chin.
His arms threaded through his button up. “I dunno.”
“I was thinking I could come see this apartment of yours…”
He grinned, ducking his head, as if the thought made him shy. As if he weren’t standing naked in her bedroom. “It’s not much.”
“Let’s see. Do you have four walls?”
He laughed. “I do.”
“Do you have a bathroom?”
“That too.”
“A bed?”
“Mattress and everything.”
She hummed. “Sounds like enough to me.”
He bit his lip, smiling. “I could make you dinner…”
“Dinner? You cook now?”
“Mhmm.” He smirked. “There’s a lot about me that will surprise you, Romanov.”
She laughed. She would love to call him out on his arrogance, but he had indeed proven himself as a surprise last night, so all she could do was shake her head. “Okay, it’s a date, then. Tonight you’ll borrow me, and—”
“Borrow?” He snorted. “What, like you’re just some library book?”
“You know what I mean!”
He laughed once through his nose, continuing to button his pants. Fond. So, so fond. “I suppose you have some ulterior motives for getting me alone again.”
“Perhaps.” She bit her lip. “What about it?”
He shrugged again. “Just looking forward to catching up, is all.”
There was something soft in his tone, something honest. She watched him quietly while he pulled his sweater over his head, leaving his hair all disheveled. “Dima?”
He met her gaze. “Yeah?” he whispered.
“Do you think you could love me again?”
His eyes softened. She herself didn’t quite understand what she was even asking for, what the right words were, what she wanted. But somehow he did. His throat bobbed, eyes swimming through hers. “I never stopped.”
Something inside her came together, like a zipper that had been stuck now gliding closed and secure and warm. Complete.
Okay. She would be okay.
Anya nodded, giving him a soft smile. “See you in a bit.”
He bent down, giving her a slow, chaste, lingering kiss. “See you soon.”
He expertly tiptoed out of the room, knowing all too well which creaky floorboards to avoid, and his trek downstairs was as silent as ever. Anya sunk deeper into the blankets. Just for the weekend. They could pretend.
Later, when her nieces and nephew were excitedly telling her all of what Santa left them, and her family was talking over one another so loudly no one could hardly get a word in, Anya would catch Dmitry’s eye across the way and they would share a quiet, secretive smile, and his toe would graze her leg under the table. The promise of later. The promise of a beginning.
And maybe, she thought, coming home from now on wouldn’t be so bad.
#anastasia broadway#anastasia musical#anastasia#dimya#my writing#fanfiction#anya x dmitry#smutty saturday#listen#i didn't expect this to go over like. 5k#but here we are#for the girls <3
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Day 2: Wish
All Amity Parkers knew that “wish” was practically a forbidden word. Years of interactions with Desiree had all but guaranteed that. Younger children weren’t even taught the word anymore out of an abundance of caution, after all nobody wanted a repeat of the “Toddler Wish-mageddon” that had occurred just a year prior. The firemen had been cleaning chocolate syrup out of the streets for weeks afterwards. This left the naive and unassuming newcomers as targets for Desire’s power, many of whom didn’t quite believe the city moniker of “The Most Haunted Place on Earth” yet. One of those newcomers was Thomas Kincade, and one way or another he too would learn the consequences of the word “wish”.
. . .
Thomas had barely lived in Amity Park a week before his coworkers started messing with him. He had just been sitting down in the breakroom for lunch when Craig from accounting had sidled up in the next chair.
“Oh hey Tom,you’re new to town, right?” he asked while grabbing a bowl from his bag.
Thomas hummed an affirmative while digging through the box chock full of leftover lo mein that his wife had left him that morning. “Yeah, just moved from Springfield like a week and a half ago, why? Also, it's Thomas.”
Craig pointed a fork his way, “Well you should probably invest in a lunch bag or something. That box is a prime target for the Box Ghost you know. He’s usually pretty harmless, but he’ll definitely steal that thing in a heartbeat if he sees you with it man.” He accentuated his point by tapping on said box with his fork.
Thomas sighed. Although he’d only lived in the city for under two weeks, he’d already seen more than enough of the “ghost tourist trap” schtick. “You can give the “ghost” thing a rest Craig, I think I’ll be fine.” he said with a roll of his eyes.
Craig shrugged, “Alright Tommy, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You transplants never quite believe it at first anyway.”
“It’s Thomas.” Thomas said pointedly. Craig made a noncommittal noise before digging into his meal.
. . .
The next day it happened again. Thomas was working at his computer when his deskmate Maria leaned over the divider.
“Hey Tim, did you see the news this morning?” she asked excitedly.
Slightly irritated, Thomas looked up. “No, I didn’t. And it’s Thomas.”
Maria didn’t seem to hear him as she waved her hands around, “They got some footage of the fight between Phantom and that big metal ghost last night on the corner of Park Place and Amity Row! It looked so intense, and the big ghost is so cool looking!” She practically squealed the last words.
Thomas groaned and let his head fall back. “Look, I get it, you guys are pulling my leg, ‘ha-ha lets haze the newbie’ kind of stuff, but its getting old.”
Huffing, Maria crossed her arms. “How long have you been here now? Two weeks? You can’t tell me that you haven’t seen one of the ghosts yet! Hell, blob ghosts are so common I’m surprised one hasn’t popped into your yard yet” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Just hope you don’t encounter any big ones, you definitely don’t want to run into the Fenton’s with their tank-on-wheels.”
With a sigh and a shake of his head Thomas turned back to his work as Maria shrugged and did the same.
. . .
Thomas was getting fed up. Everyone kept talking about ghosts. “Phantom’s been seen here” and “The whisps have been really active lately” and all that crap. How long was everyone going to pull this? Not to mention that nobody wanted to call him anything but nicknames. Why was calling him Thomas so hard for them???
The last straw was his boss stopping by his desk an hour before quitting time.
“Hey Timbo, everyone on the floor is going to head over to the Mitty Boulevard Bistro after work for dinner, company’s treat. Want to join?” he said, leaning an arm on the desk divider.
Thomas’ eye twitched. “Yeah, sure that’s fine. And please. It’s Thomas.”
His boss smiled, “Great! Originally we were going to head over to the Mexican place on Park Place, but they’re closed for cleanup from that ghost fight last night.”
“Yeah! You can thank Phantom for that, honestly the Bistro is sooo good. I like Mexican food and all, but you gotta try the Bistro’s fries Tim!” Maria said, perking up from her seat.
Thomas had had it. “Ghosts this, ghosts that! I’m so sick of this! Just give it a rest already! And my name. Is. THOMAS. Not Tim, not Tommy, just Thomas!” he cried as he picked up his coat and lunch box. “If this is how all of you are going to treat me, then count me out of the dinner. Honestly I wish you guys would just cut it out already!”
Everyone in the office went deadly silent and stared at Thomas with wide eyes.
“Thomas,” began Maria, “you shouldn’t say that word. I’m sorry that we were teasing you so much about your name, but you really shouldn’t say that word.”
Thomas scoffed, “What word?”
Everyone looked around nervously, “The “w” word,” his boss said, “there’s a ghost who grants them, usually in the worst ways possible.”
Thomas threw his hands up in the air. “What, wish? Now you’re telling me that there’s a wish-granting ghost? If there was, I'd wish she’d make you all see sense right now because ghosts aren’t real!”
The office was deadly still and many held their breath. There was always a chance Desiree wasn’t around, but some still expected her to appear and grant the wish.
Instead the Box Ghost popped in out of nowhere, grabbed Thomas’ lunch box, shouted “BEWARE!”, and vanished.
Thomas could say he knew better now to pack his lunch in a bag.
#dannymay2024#dannymay#danny phantom#amity park#box ghost#desiree#oc characters#wish is a forbidden word for a reason
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Jordan had been distracted since Maria and JoJo came to join his adventure. He had skipped more climbing sessions than he wanted to admit. But now that they were settled, it was time to pick up the slack. “Go climb, my love,” Maria told him. “You’re not quitting this thing on my behalf. Isn’t it the whole reason we’re here?”
Another bonus was the free family passes to the park, already bought and paid for as part of his climbing package.
“So you guys check out the park. Nessa will show you everything, and I’ll meet up with you later for dinner.”
Jordan was quite proud of the skewers he’d grilled for the group tonight. It was his turn to make dinner for climb club after hours.
So Maria met Nessa by the pool, and the kids enjoyed the warm, heated water. In November now, the dry northern desert took a sharp turn for winter. They didn’t stay in the water for long, especially in the late hours of evening when the heat of the day dispersed quickly. They were happy for as long as they were submerged, but quickly after, they had to get dressed and moving again to keep warm.
Maria took an instant liking to Nessa, a woman ten years her senior and so accomplished and cultured in life. Maria couldn’t help but feel a little star-struck, but Nessa was so welcoming and easy to talk to, and she never made Maria feel inferior for anything—not finishing college, not having a career, not living in a proper home with her daughter. In fact, she even took an interest in Maria’s hobbies and music, and it felt genuine, too.
Meanwhile, they were also pleasantly surprised at how well Johanna and the boys got along.
With the children playing nicely, they went to check in on the guys.
Jordan’s training had been fragmented by travel, but the last task on his to-do list was to attempt the medium wall. There were only three weeks left in this climbing session before they broke for winter. If he didn’t make this attempt now, he might as well start over from scratch in the spring. And that sounded demoralizing. So he gave it a shot.
It was challenging in the best way. Jordan was meticulous and careful, and he did great, surprising even himself!
He reveled in his success for a moment, then he started his equally meticulous descent.
That was where Maria found him, dangling from the highest point of the cliff face, one-handed, swinging his body from one handhold to another.
She heard her mother’s voice in her head, Oh, God, she’s going to be a widow again!
“I know, right?” Nessa said, “I think it’s better not to watch.”
When he reached the bottom, Maria didn’t have to explain what she was thinking. Her face said it all. Perhaps he should have gotten her used to the little wall first.
“Hey, I have an idea,” he said. “I want to show you something.”
“Is it up there?”
“It is, but we can take the stairs.”
— “boxes and squares #5.2: come down from the clouds” (7/10)
note: she was so upset by the climbing, she didn’t even notice the bee, lol!
Funny story about their sims, in gameplay, they can talk about almost anything and everything, but if he tries to talk to her about rock climbing, half the time she doesn’t like it and gives up negatives and the conversation sometimes turns sour. She doesn’t have a dislike for it in her preferences. Maybe it’s the squeamish trait? But if not that, I can only conclude that she dislikes the risk and worries about him getting hurt.
Climb club stats: Maya 8, Darren 6, Kristoff 6, Tyler 5, Jack 5, and Jordan 3! (Jordan is the runt of the litter, but he’s doing so good, lol! Remembering that Jordan and Jack are newbies this season, and the others have done this before.)
Next -> // 5.2 start // index
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Lalla Maria: The Jewish Princess Djinn 🕎💎💗
"Lady Ghazali—oh Maria, you are the Sultan! Oh Maria, Lady Maria, the Jewess, Maria the Zohawania (one associated with festivity or joy), the owner of elegance, the mistress of hearts."
In Moroccan folklore, Lalla Maria is the daughter of King David (or in some traditions his sister). She appears with him in dreams, and is stunningly beautiful.
She embodies beauty, elegance, charm, wealth, arrogance, luxurious perfumes, gold, and expensive jewellery. She is incredibly wealthy and is invoked for success in business, and her presence brings with it prosperity. She owns a dark brown horse and plays a reed-coloured lute. She is associated with coffee, cards, and fortune telling. Whoever draws a card from her deck is promised great fortune, for her cards never lie. Though she is kind to those who respect her, she is also known for being vengeful and merciless to those who cross her.
Ritual: Her gatherings are luxurious, fragrant, and illuminated only by candles on candelabras.
Ritual summoning of her takes place on Friday nights. Candles are lit, offerings are made, and the rituals continue until dawn, then everyone who attended the gathering that night ascends to a cave where candles and incense are lit again. Then the attendees gather at what is called the “Jewish table” where they eat, drink, and indulge in smoking and drinking alcohol. When the session reaches its climax to the rhythm of Gnawa music, they begin to communicate with “the fairy queen Maria” in order to benefit from her services.
Names: Some of her titles include "Lalla Ghazali," ""Maria Sabtiah," Princess of Princesses," "Maria Al-Hawawiya," "Lady of the Girls," "Maria Al-Yahudiya," and "Beloved of David."
Followers: The key information is that she does not impose servitude on anyone as other jnun do, nor will she mingle with just anyone. For example, if you live in a modest house or own a cheap car, you can’t claim to have Maria with you. Her presence shines among the noble and distinguished figures, state leaders, and influential people. Those who truly have Maria wouldn’t wear anything less than diamonds. People with Maria have luxury cars, lavish homes, and the best of everything. They love colors like pink, white, and light blue—nothing ordinary. If you have Maria, your finances and lifestyle should be extraordinary—not average or barely sufficient. A description I read of her female devotees says:
"Imagine someone going to the bathhouse in luxurious loungewear and expensive slippers. Their accessories alone would be worth a fortune, let alone their jewelry.
When these women go out, they always look flawless. If they wear jewelry, it’s extravagant, and their outfits might be worth half a million.
These people are simple yet refined. For example, they might wear a delicate gold necklace that costs as much as a car."
Followers of Lalla Maria don’t waste time with idle chatter. When they meet with someone, it’s about business. Everything they do, even attending events or outings, has a purpose tied to their success. They don’t talk much—they’re concise, say a few convincing words, and get to the point.
They live in luxury and often travel, hopping on and off planes for business or pleasure. Even their relationships are strategic, as they don’t waste time with unimportant people.
Maria comes to her devotees through inheritance, so even if you’re not wealthy right now, you’d likely come from a family that has financial stability or prestige. She’s not tied to mere appearances or materialism but rather a certain level of class and influence.
Some people attempt to summon her or practice her rituals, but it only works if you are truly connected to her. Otherwise, she might simply appear, laugh at your efforts, and give you a bit of what you ask for before leaving. Her true presence and influence are passed down through inheritance, and some people have Maria without even realizing it.
Even if people don't realise they have Maria working with them, she’s present and helping them in her own way. To work with Maria, you don’t always need to follow specific rituals or use stones unless she specifically requests it.
Some people have dreams about Maria, seeing her appear to them in various forms. However, it’s not always necessary to have a direct connection with her to feel her presence or influence in your life. Having her in your dreams doesn't necessarily mean she's your spiritual Queen - it could mean she's a spiritual companion, either a lover or adversary. Once she's there, she's difficult to get rid of.
Relationships: Her father is David, who she accompanies on Saturdays, which are filled with indulgence, spoiling and pampering. She has an older sister known as Lalla Diana. Rituals are sometimes held for both Maria and Diana at the same time. She is cherished by the Kings of the Djinn, especially the Jewish kings.
Personality: She is kind, delicate, and generous when she wants to be. She can make a woman radiant in the eyes of those who see her and can turn a man into the king of hearts. However, she is strict and does not tolerate betrayal. People who attempt to summon her often seek her for money or personal gain. However, they should stop entertaining illusions because her influence isn’t something easily manipulated.
Manifestation: She often wears royal silky garments in either golden or straw-colored hues. Some say they resemble the colour of banana peels. On her head, there’s either a spirit thread or a crown of flowers. She also likes to wear pure, bright white - white gowns, white crowns, and dazzling diamonds. Unlike most Princess and Queen jnun, she doesn't wear yellow gold, preferring white gold and diamonds.
She is radiant and extremely beautiful. Her skin is very fair and her hair is long, sometimes black and sometimes light. She appears to be about 30 years old, but sometimes she is perceived to be about 15. She often appears looking petite and pampered in the Jewish quarter. If she speaks to you, it will be in the Jewish dialect (I also read that she speaks English). She might offer you money—euros, dollars, or other types of paper currency—or give you something valuable like a diamond, silver, or even a key. Each person experiences her differently.
All her messages to mortals come through dreams. She might enter through Jewish magic, mirrors, or other means. If she appears to you, consider yourself fortunate. She is a queen that comes to people through inheritance or lineage.
Maria may not always appear as her true self, but rather as lesser entities, like a servant. For these lesser forms, you might light candles or offer her things, but she doesn’t bring significant benefits. She’s just a guest. This isn’t the same as having Maria in her full power.
Days: From Friday afternoon until Saturday afternoon (the Sabbath), her presence is particularly strong. She is the Queen of the Sephardic Jews, beloved by Moroccan Jewry. She is also present on Mondays. On Monday mornings, if you’re working on a project, you might find yourself guided by her energy. It’s essential to work with her influence only on specific days and times—especially Monday mornings.
Offerings: Acceptable offerings include: sweets, nuts, high quality drinks, shisha, Caro (a brand of coffee), and candles (typically blue or gray). Depending on the tradition you may light seven or eleven candles for her. Her preferred incense is original and pure frankincense, serghina, oud, premium musk, and a small amount of fragrant gum resin. She doesn’t like too much incense, just enough to create the right atmosphere. She also likes rosewater, but not orange blossom water. Her fabrics must be white and of high quality, preferably from expensive, premium brands - nothing messy or casual.
Some people like to sacrifice chickens for her, but one shawafa I follow, Meryem Bant Chrifa, who is a devotee of her (and whose altar is in the picture at the top) recommends buying a dove and releasing it instead.
Generally her offerings are similar to Lalla Malika's, a fellow genie Princess who presides over prosperity. If you know about Lalla Malika and her preferred offerings, then there's no need to explain: you already know only the best will do. Lalla Maria requires the finest drinks, the best cigars, the most luxurious cigarettes, and the best shisha. The food on her table should be of the highest quality and prepared perfectly. Her makeup should always be the finest, luxurious brands only.
Colours: Pinkish-red, bright white, white with a touch of grey. If you want to set up a table of offerings or prepare something important, it’s essential to wear white. Wearing white ensures her approval.
Shrine: She has a shrine in the town of Ouazzane.
Why Invoke Her: When Maria is with you, your business will thrive. Anything you get involved in will succeed, and you’ll never leave empty-handed. Every decision you make and every word you say carries weight because of her influence. In major business deals involving diamonds, gemstones, or even international trade between countries, Maria is invoked as a symbol of prosperity. She is the essence of success and luxury.
A folk song about her: Lalla Ghazali Ya Maria.
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so none of this is what any of you asked for, but part 3 of the stonyclunks soulmates au @stark-and-shield @polizwrites @soliloquent-stark
(parts one and two)
tony spends his flight home from london agonizing over what he should do next.
on the one hand, his feelings about captain america haven’t changed. if anything, he’s now even more adamant that he wants nothing to do with him, because not only does tony now have proof that cap is a total dick, he also now feels like all that childhood trauma?? was the result of a lie. now he knows that he grew up being compared to someone who isn’t even really as great as his dad made him seem. so maybe now he has some validation (and vindication) that howard was wrong. but still, he could have just done without the years of feeling like he wasn’t good enough.
on the other hand, he’s a hopeless romantic at heart and he’s always dreamed of meeting and growing old with his soulmate. he grew up surrounded by them — his parents are soulmates. ana and edwin jarvis are soulmates. aunt peggy and uncle daniel are soulmates. that nature-defying love has always been the shining example of what real happiness is to him and he’s been desperate for it since he was 25, the average age when people meet their soulmates. the fact that he lived until he was 38 and still never met his soulmate had hurt him everyday. and sure, he’s happy in other ways. he’s content with how his life has turned out. he has amazing friends. he has a family that supports him. but god, he wants to share it with someone who he knows is fated to be his.
now, he’s kind of annoyed that he and his dad have another thing in common, what with howard not meeting maria until he was in his 40’s. and at this point he’s starting to think that being soulmates with captain america is some sort of sick cosmic joke that the universe is playing on him.
also he’s really, really pissed that the words that are permanently marked on his skin are so ugly.
at dinner before their night at the opera, tony tells maria, “mama, i met my soulmate.”
“oh that’s wonderful, antonio! tell me all about them!”
maria can hardly contain her excitement, and tony feels awful that the news he’s about to share isn’t worth her feeling this happy about.
“it was two weeks ago, a total accident. he was really mean,” he explains softly. if they weren’t in public right now he might even have just shown her the words on his thigh, but he knows her protective instincts would rear their head immediately and she’d skip the opera just to get started on hunting down the man who spit such vitriol at her son.
“oh. well, has he apologized for it?” maria asks. “i hope he has some basic manners, at least. i won’t allow someone who treats my son such poorly into the family, whether you’re soulmates or not.”
“he… has. quite dramatically,” tony says, thinking about the instagram post that had been causing a media frenzy for a week now.
“well, good. he should know you’re to be treasured,” maria sniffs. “when will i get to meet him?”
“i haven’t seen him again since. i don’t know if i really want to.”
“why not, bambino? you’ve always wanted to meet your soulmate.”
“mama… it’s captain america.”
maria looks around the restaurant. “where? i thought howard was with him tonight. crazy old man, still thinks he’s in his prime and trying to keep up with people half his age.”
“no, mama. my soulmate. he’s captain america.”
“oh. oh dear.”
“yeah.” tony picks up his fork and starts eating again. “i think i might just be better off dying alone.”
maria doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. suddenly all the excessive whining from steve that howard has been telling her about makes a lot more sense. she knows that steve is a good man. maybe not perfect like howard always made him out to be. but kind, nonetheless. he would be good to tony, good for him, she’s sure. tony just needs to give him a chance.
but also, like she said, tony should be treasured. if steve wants to make up for how they started off, he needs to pull out all the stops. tony deserves nothing less than the best, after all. and to be honest, maria thinks she might enjoy watching steve grovel a bit. she’s also looking forward to making fun of howard for having such an idiot as a best friend and future son-in-law.
so she starts planning.
“tonio, darling, why don’t you stay over at the mansion tonight? ana was just saying we haven’t had brunch with you in ages.”
“sure, mama.”
under the table, she texts howard.
M: is steve still pouting about his life?
H: unfortunately. i’m just glad beer does nothing for him. i can’t imagine how much worse this all could be if he were drunk.
M: poor boy. maybe he’s also feeling a bit lonely. there are plenty of rooms in the mansion if he doesn’t want to go home to an empty apartment tonight.
H: he might like that. i’ll let him know.
#maria loves to meddle okay she just wants her son to be happy but she also wants to have her fun#while writing this i also just realized that howard should be basically on his deathbed now he’s so old#but let’s just say… when you meet your soulmate you start aging slower. okay yes let’s go with that#stonyclunks soulmates au#stevetony#stony#kay writes things
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I really hope you’ll write Peter Pan in Rainbow Valley! You’re the most qualified to match Barrie’s and Montgomery’s respective tones, all your fics are very whimsical and funny. I’d LOVE to read it.
Lol! Oh, thank youuu. That’s so nice! 🥹 And just so you know, I’m really happy to have another J.M. Barrie mutual, I feel like we’re kind of thin on the ground on tumblr. I follow all his tags here, and they’re so rarely added to.
I like half drafted an outline on this, and will keep it in the future-maybe-someday file for ‘fics that want to be written,’ but it’s a real purgatory over there, if I’m being honest. But outlining it has admittedly taken zero effort, because these two stories almost seem meant to be joined. We know Maud was a huge fan of J.M. Barrie, and by extension of Peter and Wendy… and I’ve long personally thought that it was beyond pure coincidence that ‘James Matthew Blythe’ is so similar in name to ‘James Matthew Barrie’… but even Rainbow Valley (place not book), which is kind of this liminal space between fairyland and reality, sacred to childhood and play, has some existing Neverlandness about it already built in. And then there’s these compelling similarities between Mrs. Darling and Mrs. Anne Blythe as well; both charming mothers, both adult advocates for/in/of imagination, and both wonderful storytellers (Peter lingers around the eaves of the Darlings Bloomsbury home to hear her stories) that are devotedly loved by their husbands and children. But for me, I think it's a huge (the hugest) point of interest to loop in Walter, who saw the Piper, like really really saw him, in Rainbow Valley. How easy it would be to kick out the German Pied Piper and drawn in Peter Pan and his flute, instead… two characters who are already deeply linked by folklore. Elsewhere, if the Jolly Roger, did take a wrong star and run aground in the Rainbow Valley brook, it’s just asking to have the suspended-in-time Neverland pirates be familiar with Captain Jim and maybe Lost Margaret, from bygone Life-Book days. I’d even give Shirley a boyish thimble-passing romance with Tiger Lily, the same way I’ve always wanted to see him paired off with a Mi’kmaq girl. Aunt Mary Maria’s hand also shoots right up for the doubling Hook-ish authoritarian/‘grow up already’/take-all-the-fun-away role (Gilbert would never suit it the way Mr. Darling did). But anyway! With all this low hanging fruit, it’d seriously be so simple to neatly tuck these two books into each other at every corner. It’s really all right there.
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Having a #1 Song doesn't mean SHIT anymore! It doesn't mean the song is a hit.
Let's be so serious rn. Nobody knows any of her damn fault track that keep charting. I asked my mom to name one song of hers and she could name "Shake it off."
Smooth Criminal went #7 in the US.
Remember the Time went #3 in the US.
Heal the World went #27 in the US.
They don't care about us #30 in the US. But it still went viral on tiktok. A song that is almost 30 years old!!
Thriller the song also never went to number one, but ask people to name one Halloween song they gonna name that song.
And what is more impressive, having 1M EAS the first day or still selling 1M EAS 15 years after your passed and more than 20 years after you dropped an album. Longevity is quality. 1M first day sales she's gonna sell that much for years. Hell, she be lucky if she even sold 50k in a year in 30 years.
5 music videos of his that are made in the 80's and 90's are about to have 1 billion views this year.
Billie Jean still gets 1M daily streams on Spotify.
I'm sorry if you aren't an Mjfan and I bring him up but he's the best example I can give you also because Swifties keep comparing her to him.
If people don't like the song they won't keep listening to it. And if Taylors song just stay in her fanbase and they just massstream her shit. Nobody is gonna know this song in 20 years.
Because what is the last hit Taylor Swift had that was known to the general public? Anti Hero maybe? Cruel Summer?
And something that is also funny is that, Remember when her drunk self got on stage and snatched the grammy from Celine Dion and didn't even look at her.
And people were pissed and her team was quick on working getting a picture with her to mend the damage.
Celine Dion has 5 Grammys and Taylor Swift has 14.
But they knew that Celine Dion got more respect from the GP then Taylor will ever have. And that is something you cannot buy. And they know if someone wins out of pure talent or just because of favourism. And let's be real. Most people know these award shows are rigged and they don't care about it.
Like when RollingStone came out with that fuck ass best singers list that put Taylor at #102 and excluded Celine Dion. People were mad that Celine was included but Taylor was.
Or just recently they also called her the better Adele. Nobody from the GP was like oh yeah that is true.
I mean they can try to name her the Queen of Pop in one of the award shows alà Michael Jackson style, but it's not gonna work with her. When he got that name people actually agreed and they still do. Outside Taylors cult nobody will agree with that.
Taylor's Team is aggressive with the Marketing and pushing these numbers onto us because they know outside of it she has nothing to offer. Her talent isn't marketable. Her singing and dancing isn't that impressive. The most marketable things about her career are her wealth and business success. Have they ever talked about her performance while she is on tour. What is so impressive what she does on stage? No they just keep talking about the money she makes.
No I completely get why MJ is a relevant comparison here. Swifties do keep comparing TS to him and for that alone they need to collectively get their asses beat. But you used good examples and I just want to applaud you for that
& you’re right, I can’t name a single vault track. Every time I’m exposed to her its against my will through my recommended (and its usually so out of place too because i watch really weird video essays).
Charts truly don’t reflect cultural impact because Drunk in Love by Beyoncé never went #1 and neither did Toxic by Britney Spears but both are super well known. Anti Hero is probably the last single to go #1 but I genuinely felt harassed by that song 😭 its sooooooooo bad
Yes! The vocal trinity—Celine Dion, Mariah Carey, and Whitney Houston—have done SO MUCH for music and all have less than half of Taylor Swift’s amount of Grammys. Celine and Mariah each have 5 and Whitney has 6.
I didn’t watch the Grammys this year (forgot to) but I heard about the Celine Dion incident I was SHOCKED because the audacity of this woman! Her entitlement shows in everything she does and she’s really starting to believe her commercial success makes her a better artist.
THE ROLLING STONE LIST WAS BULLSHIT. THEY DIDN’T INCLUDE JENNIFER HUDSON EITHER! Their definition of a “singer” was soooooooo bullshit too like that magazine’s merit has gone down so much in the past 20 years it should be regarded with way less status and credibility. And who tf called TS better than ADELE?
You’re right, her moniker will be chosen by the general public (probably from a viral tweet/tiktok/etc).
And she needs aggressive marketing because she really is a below average musician in all respects! She has her songwriting but she should’ve just been a hit songwriter (like Estelle Dean) not a singer. What makes her marketable is very “ordinary” image—which makes her relatable to “every girl, like me and you” 🙄 her soft voice really creates an intimate atmosphere especially with her vulnerable (but superficial) lyrics. She has to be friends with her fans for her success to work. Because there is no way you can justify her being regarded as a “god” the way people do with Beyoncé and MJ otherwise.
🎯 with the Eras Tour coverage. No one ever references or cites a particular jaw dropping vocal performance or dance number. It’s always the amount of wealth she’s generating.
#ask#anon#anti taylor swift#mj#beyoncé#celine dion#artist comparison#eras tour#notyouraryang0dd3ss#mariah carey#whitney houston
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Homesick 05 - take a bite
Sae Itoshi - 05
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ Series: sae x f!reader | childhoodlovers!au,
Stuck in a small town near the coast with a previous crush on a boy who returns after years
After your and Sae's brief quarrel, which you don't regret in the slightest, you spend another hour and a half raking a lot of leaves before everything was clean and tidy. You two return to Maria's residence for rest and recuperation after exchanging innumerable perspiration. Two teacups of rosemary-honey tea are set down by Maria's delicate hands as heated steam silently rises into the air. Sae appeared effortlessly handsome even from the multiple rowing of naturally colored leaves into sacks. He still had a dashing appearance from any angle you might choose.
Maria takes a seat facing you both and leans into the circular table. , “You guys must be tired, I thank you both for your kindness and for taking so much care of me. But that last scheme was on both of you” She chuckles off lingering into the memory of you two bricking. You laugh it off with small wits “I think that was mostly Sae.” But how could he have forced you to rake the remaining leaves? Blatantly cruel and harsh. Sae glares at you right away, clearly irritated by your hasty tendency to place the blame on him before you've even said anything else.
"Oh, you two already get along. In the interim, I have no doubt that you will come to like one another.
“With an octopus?” Sae insults you, never in his mind and imagination of the future would he believe to be somehow in liking to you, or in anything in general. “You two both grew up in the same town, work at the same job, and find something in common to connect with” Maria suggests with diligence. She stood up to heat up some more tea leaving you and Sae alone once again.
“You’re from this town too?”
“You don’t remember me?”
“Uh…You’re…the one who couldn’t figure out how to work a vending machine.”
“It was broken”
“It really wasn’t”
“It was.” Here we go again, “Are you two bricking again?” Maria steps in with another hot cup of tea. “Might I add, if you keep this up I’ll have to assign someone out of the job. Now you wouldn’t want that would you?”
“We weren’t bricking or anything at all, we were just…um…talking.” You try to claim, you really need that job to pay your rent and your meals, and your, well, everything till you find a stable career in writing and journalism.
"Then, I think you two ought to figure something out." As she sipped the boiling tea, her lips touched the ends of the cup. You turn to face Sae, who appears to be thinking, but his countenance is the same as always. Did he accept Maria's request? Or is he just mentally criticizing you? Perhaps you should also make some comebacks. “I have an awesome idea youngsters, for two times a week you meet up for lunch.” Was that Maria talking or your subconscious whispering demonic words in your ear?
“Wasting my lunch time with someone like her would put a lot on my schedule,” Sae exclaims unbothered, unwilling to contribute. So, he was insulting you in his head.
“Yeah, I think so too” Sae looks at you, still unbothered by his teal eyes but with a small head tilt. “Like for my schedule, not yours…” You quickly correct yourself
“Remember what will happen if you don’t” Maria reminds, that someone is out of the job. Although it most likely won’t be you, those chances aren’t something you should challenge against judging by your current financial life. Should you really agree to this? Two times a week, lunch with Sae Itoshi.
“Fine-” You agree in defeat. “No thanks,” Sae interrupts you quickly, his answer leaving you with many imaginable outcomes. You’ll go on the street! Or worse find a much worse job like being a prostitute. You frown at Sae, “You didn’t even think about it” “I did and I say no,” Sae claims, you look to Maria with doe eyes in hopes of her magic words filled with fairy dust to spell Sae to just say yes.
Sae notices your look on Maria, it says everything about how desperate you are. A moment of silence fills the air, “Mondays and Thursdays starting this week, don’t be late.” Sae’s words beam like angelic tunes into your ear “Thank you” You sigh in relief, never more feeling the stress of Sae’s confident ‘no’
--
Your apartment grows chilly, mostly in the mornings. Marked on your calendar, magnetized on the fridge door was every Monday and Thursday to be with Sae at lunchtime, a little sticky note on the side exclaiming ‘Don’t be late! Please’ and a little cat drawn by it which now looked drunk, but you swear it looked cute last night. You excused it by your tiredness on that Saturday night you marked this.
The sun sinks into your skin with Winter slowly creeping in the Autumn breeze. The trees that once carried its colorful leaves now stand lifeless yet nearly beautiful and fitting for holiday spirits. With the cold winds, you wrapped a white knit scarf around your neck along with a thick jacket to secure you. You thought a little treat to yourself wouldn’t hurt. Heading out to a small restaurant that consists of delicious food and milkshakes to go with.
As you stepped in, the smell rushed through your nose, the chatter appeared in your ear, and a pretty waitress headed towards your direction. "I'm sorry, but there are no more tables available." According to the waitress, you can see that every table and seat is occupied from back to front in the corner.
You looked at the back of a specific redhead guy who was facing the window. He had a familiar appearance. "Sae?" you ask. The mention of his name causes his head to gently turn around.
"Do you guys know each other? Maybe you two could sit at the same table? You intended to enjoy a well-prepared supper for a lady alone this afternoon, even if the waitress offered a solution. In addition, Sae insisted on having lunch with him exclusively on Mondays and Thursdays.
Was this the only way to solve the problem? You agree to it anyway, “If you’re okay with that Sae. Sure” “Wonderful, I’ll get you your menu and drink.” Sae remained quiet as you sat yourself across from him.
“I…uh..didn’t expect you here.” you start, trying to make small conversation to remove the silent atmosphere. However, you think that made it worse somehow because now he’s just looking at you with a quiet manner and distant gaze.
“It’s freezing cold, I had to wear another shirt under this sweater.” Maybe if you pinched yourself, you’ll wake up from this weird nightmare.the waitress returned with a steaming jasmine tea and a mug of hot chocolate, breaking the uneasy silence between you and Sae. She gave you a little sigh of relief before turning to leave.
“How’s soccer?” You ask hesitantly He looks up from his tea,
“None of your business” So rude…
“Oh okay.” Not surprised he would say something like that.
”Well…have you tried the ice cream down Rune Street?”
“Yeah”
“Which one do you like?”
“The blue ones,” Sae says
“Oh, is it the popsicle with two sticks? Those are fun, but I always lose…”
“Winning just means luck. Luck gets you nowhere.” What a gloomy dude, you were just talking about popsicles. It made you wonder, however, who he shared the other one with.
“Who did you give the other popsicle to?” You observe Sae's silence and his brief pause in movement. “That's none of your business.” You grow quiet, figuring this is probably a personal topic. You didn’t mean to become so personal with just two blue popsicles. You had to switch the topic before he probably hit you on the head,
“So now that we had lunch today, does that mean we don’t need to have lunch on one of these Monday or Thursday?”
“I already schedule it, I’m not changing.”
“Right” With a cheerful smile, the waitress returns with a small strawberry cheesecake and exclaims, "Enjoy." Your lips form a tiny smile as you pick up your fork and dig into a slice of cake, then put it in your mouth so the taste melts instantaneously.
With Sae's austere gaze staring up at you, you look up. You were unsure of how to react to this; what was he thinking? One more insult? You'd best not be called a fatty by him. "What?" Did your face have anything on it? It must be another insult because you're not a messy eater. You continue to just eat your cake, so yummy, definitely not like he’s glaring at you like it’s Caseoh a few feet away from him or something.
“Would you like some? It’s really good.” You offer awkwardly despite not really being willing to share. “It’s fatting food” Sae replies. “But it’s really good.” you state blankly “Here,” you say as you bring your fork near his lips waiting for him to take the bite. You waited for a few moments till you saw his lips nom on your fork and away the small piece of cake that was on it. For another few moments you waited, his reaction slow and steady, “Well…?” “It’s not bad,” Sae remarks
After finishing up meals where you and Sae lived in an awkward atmosphere for the afternoon, the waitress places down the ticket. “Oh, I can pay for myself,” you say right before Sae casually hands her an American black card. His affluent existence was nearly forgotten as you had to pause while everything else played. On his wrist you observed a shiny silver watch, on the other wrist were two bracelets: one white and another black. You also noticed how toned his arms were.
You thank the waitress for her service and walk out catching to Sae, “You didn’t say thank you to her,” you comment “Do I really need to?” he sighs. “well…it’s already too late for that,” you say as you both head off walking.
“So, where are we heading next?” tilting your head in question. “To take a nap.”
“In the afternoon?”
“I take one-hour naps in the afternoon every day.” Of course, Sae would do something like that.
“Before you do that, can we grab popsicles? My treat.” As you smile at your thoughts, Sae lets out a sigh. Both of you wait, standing in front of the place that holds popsicles.
Everyone else surrounding you was little minions who ran with excitement pumping in their blood. Little giggles left their lips as they got a hold of their cold dessert. Next in line were you and Sae, “Two popsicles for two lovebirds” the male employee comments as he hands you your request for two blue popsicles that were attached. Love birds? “Oh— no we’re not-” Sae walks away pulling you with him by your wrist “Don’t cause such a commotion. I don’t want any attraction.” You nod softly; your wrist still held by his slender fingers. “Could I have my wrist back?” With a sudden drop, he lets go of your wrist.
It takes a few seconds to calm down the awkward tension between you. With a snap, you break the two attached popsicles and hand the other to Sae. Continuing a small walk around town as you devoured the glace popsicle. ‘You lost’ the wooden stick that carried a delicious cold dessert now has left you with slight disappointment. You look over to Sae with the exclamation ‘You win!” on his. A growing knot of envy forms inside you “Mmm not fair. I always lose.”
Sae was quiet, his expression blank as always. Not knowing what to figure out with any movement he makes. ‘I won?…’ “Doesn’t matter, luck runs out and doesn’t last long.” Sae finally speaks
“Well, you won anyways…”
“Who’d you share the other piece with back then?” Your ears perk at the question, not surely knowing if it was Sae questioning
“My friend Mel, known her since high school. We’d always go and grab something to nom on after school. You?”
You try and question again “My younger brother” He leaves his answer at that
“Are you the oldest of your siblings?”
“Sure”
“Is that a, yes?”
“Sure”
“So, Maria said you left for Spain for your soccer career?”
“Why do you want to know? “Maria did say to get along”
“Yeah”
“Oh, that must be great, I always wanted to travel in Europe. Mostly London because you can get a better writing career there and maybe Paris because of sight-seeing. And coffee.” Your mouth started to move on its own, this sort of topic got the best of you.
Sae’s phone rings interrupting you, with a small peak the words on his phone call spelled assistant. Not even a name maybe? You wonder what he put you as. He started to speak and that's where you grew silent till he spoke back up. “I’m going, bye” And with that, he just leaves. “See you tomorrow!” you wave.
next chapter
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Teach Me, Maria-sensei! 4️⃣
Maria Lorraine is best known as the author of “Authoritarianism is Good when I Do It,” a sprawling tract which is supposedly about the relationship between philosophy, the creative arts, and imperialism, but also contains many odd tangents and suspiciously specific complaints. Maria is second-best known for ‘the Turk speech,’ in which she argued at a Poster’s Union meeting that “if there is, hypothetically, such a thing as a ‘master race’ or a people chosen by god, it would objectively have to be the Turks.” The meeting ended in a brawl that left several posters hospitalized. “If there is, hypothetically, such a thing as x” lives on as a popular meme to indicate an absurd or overly combative argument.
+++++
Maria Lorraine: Do you want to know the difference between Eastern and Western philosophy, Sunny?
President Sunny Roosevelt: Honestly, not really, but I’ve interrupted you enough already so I’ll let you have this one.
Maria: The origins of Western philosophy are found in the symposia, ancient Greek parties which revolved around wine, conversation, and sex, while the origins of Eastern philosophy are found in the shi, a class of itinerant advisors who would travel from region to region offering their services to local rulers and ministers, and writing treatises to show their administrative expertise. In other words, the origin of Eastern philosophy is the just and proper administration of a state, while the origin of Western philosophy is drunken pederasty.
Sunny: Hey, maybe both sides have a point.
Maria: Now, are you at all familiar with Taoism?
Sunny: Sure. You’ve got your Yin, and you’ve got your Yang, and they’re like opposites, right? Night and day, hot and cold, all that good stuff. And everything’s made up of Yin and Yang, and they’re always turning into each other, or something like that.
Maria: That is the popular perception - and it’s pronounced yang, rhymes with song.
Sunny: Correcting my pronunciation is such a - Wait, what does all that have to do with running a state?
Maria: Oh, you’re actually paying attention. As I said, that is the popular understanding of Taoism, but the truth is deeper - Taoism is not mere metaphysics, but a layered and intricate metaphor for the administrator’s craft. It is something one can ponder for a lifetime and not exhaust even a fraction of its implications. Two forces, so diametrically opposed that they cannot exist without the other, a syzygy…
Sunny: You’re making that up. No way is that a real word.
Maria: Night and day, hot and cold, male and female… urban and rural, centralized and decentralized, core and periphery. Do you see what I’m getting at?
Sunny: [nods] Not even a little.
Maria: Let me put it this way. Rural people complain about the rootless superficiality of the urban people, and urban people complain about the obstreperous traditionalism of the rural people. Both seek to shape the other to be more like themselves, but they are both products of their context. Rural areas exist because resource industries - logging, mining, agriculture - are spread out by their - pardon the pun - by their very nature, while the development and production of consumer goods and services requires factories and offices which leads to urbanization. The existence of one depends on the other, and it is that dichotomy which allows society to function. Theoretically.
Sunny: Ahhh, now I see. Urban and rural are like a siggy-ziggy.
Maria: Syzygy.
Sunny: Why does that matter, though?
Maria: Why does it matter? Half the country is one big cyberpunk megapole and the other half is a neo-feudal wasteland. The ideological conflict between these two extremes will be a defining challenge of your tenure. It…
Sunny: No, I mean why does it matter that I properly pronounce your stupid made up words?
Maria: Because all words are made up, and ‘syzygy’ is a lot faster than saying ‘a pair of forces which are diametrically opposed and yet interconnected because of their opposition,’ and understanding established terminology means you can actually engage with…
Sunny: Why not call it a beep-boop?
Maria: What?
Sunny: If you just need a word you can use to refer to the concept, why not call it a beep-boop? [Peace sign] Beep-boop!
Maria: Cease this whimsy, it sickens me physically.
Sunny: Beep-boop!
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steve/tony with alpha!tony and omega!steve? fluffy or smutty, up to you! 👀 I just finished reading Tis the Season and I absolutely love the way you write a/b/o <333
Aw, thank you so much! Since you enjoyed Tis the Season, here’s a snippet from that same universe. I hope you enjoy it!
---
Steve’s first Christmas at the tower had been a lavish affair, hundreds of guests and a giant tree to accompany the party. It had been overwhelming, loud and flashy, all of which were things he’d associated with their host for the night.
Now that they’d all settled in and become friends, Tony had apparently done away with the need to impress them. Which suited Steve just fine. He’d always liked a more private party anyway, and having his chosen family along with his alpha with him was all he’d ever needed.
Steve’s eyes drifted across the room to Tony, who was sitting on the couch and chatting with Rhodey, a glass in his hand. He smiled involuntarily as a wave of affection rolled over him. Christmas always made him appreciate the things he was grateful for. And there was nothing he loved more than having Tony at his side.
Bruce walked past him with a tray of sugarcookies, and Steve gladly snatched one up, turning back to Natasha and Maria who seemed to be squabbling over who would win in a fight, Santa or Jack Frost. He was only half-listening, just basking in the calm atmosphere of the evening. It was nice to see everyone so relaxed and happy.
“Steve! Hey, Steve!”
Steve turned around, smiling at Tony who was beckoning him over to the couch with a shifty expression on his face. Rhodey seemed to have wandered off, so Steve walked over to Tony, happy to keep him company. He’d just opened his mouth to say hello when Tony grabbed his arm and unceremoniously dragged him onto his lap so Steve was sitting on him sideways.
“What the –” Steve froze, then frowned at Tony. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Just stay still,” Tony said, pulling Steve a little closer. And even more firmly on top of his rock hard cock.
“It’s Christmas. What are you doing,” Steve hissed, and Tony huffed.
“Calm down, I’m not going to do anything. You’re just less suspicious than a pillow. I don’t want anyone else to see.”
Steve barely held in a snort. “Wow, thanks a lot.”
“It’s your own damn fault,” Tony grumbled, hiding his face in Steve’s neck. “You did this to me.”
“Me? I was all the way over there, minding my own business. How is this –”
Steve broke off when Tony shoved his glass under Steve’s nose. One sniff was all it took to make an incredulous smile break out on Steve’s lips.
“Oh my god. Seriously?”
“I told you,” Tony said miserably. “Eggnog boners. That’s a thing now.”
“Jesus, keep it down,” Steve said, but he was laughing too hard to do the same. “God, that’s so ridiculous.”
Tony glowered at him. “What am I supposed to do? It tastes just like you.”
“Sorry not sorry.” Steve settled more comfortably in Tony’s lap, smiling when Tony let out a shaky breath. “You alright there?”
Tony growled. “Laugh it up while you can. I’m going to fuck you through the mattress later.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Tony stuck out his lower lip, and Steve couldn’t help but kiss the pout off his lips, chuckling when Tony nuzzled his jaw.
“Ew, keep it in the bedroom,” Clint said as he walked past the couch, munching on a gingerbread man. “I’m getting more punch. You want anything?”
“Another eggnog for Tony,” Steve said, laughing when Tony squeezed his sides, giving him a pitiful look. Clint eyed them both before he shook his head.
“Sure thing. Weirdos.”
Tony barely waited for Clint to turn his back before he nipped at Steve’s scent gland, making him shiver. “My revenge will be swift and merciless.”
Steve smiled, grabbing Tony’s hand to interlace it with his. “I’m looking forward to it.”
--
You can also find an extended version of this fic on AO3, right here :)
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You mentioned you think about scripting Mansfield Park or North and South, and it made me remember an idea I concocted one for how to open/structure a MP movie or series. The concepts are probably trite and demodé at this point, but I think they have potential in this case.
It would open with a young Maria, Julia, and Fanny at their school room for a lesson, Fanny failing to answer correctly on something she never was taught about, and being humiliated by her cousins.
Then it would transition to Fanny at the room she shares with Susan in Portsmouth later in the novel. She might, for example, be looking at the window and have a book Edmund gave her open on her lap, at his handwritten dedication (a quote about strength would be apropos). Susan comes in for another study session (bonus points if it is the same topic as the first scene, but presented in more depth or with more accuracy), but then she asks about Fanny's life at Mansfield, and that would be the closing of the opening of the adaptation.
I know narration is a bad word these days, but I think it could work really well here, because Fanny would tell Susan of an event in one way, but we'd see how in reality it was in a different, harsher way -Fanny is trying to protect/be grateful to her relations. It reveals character, and it can also create funny contrasts like Fanny mentioning the quiet kind intimacy of her evenings spent with Mrs. Bertram, and what we see is Mrs. Bertram snoring on the couch with pug on her lap as Fanny does her worsted work for her.
I thought of both opening and narration as ways to show front and center Fanny's growth and her at her moment of, paradoxically, the most agency and authority, in her relationship with Susan, and then preventing her from sinking into the background -fitting for the "I was quiet, but I was not blind" character. I think it also highlights the theme of education, that is so important to the novel, and would give more urgency to the events later on Fanny's Portsmouth visit and afterwards, which are A) the most thrilling B) those where the family begins to realize Fanny's importance and value to them. I mean that we'd be experiencing them with Fanny rather than through Fanny as before. Oh, it would also make Henry's Portsmouth visit more shocking, as Fanny is not privy to the scene where Henry discusses all her excellencies with Mary.
So, hmm, that's my idea, IDK what you think, but I had to share XD
wow I love this idea! it’s kind of giving me the mental image of Goob’s “they all hated me” as the flashback shows that everyone thinks he’s cool, but with Fanny it’d be the inverse. you get the sense of Fanny kind of wincing when she gets to a particularly painful point in the story and trying to gloss over it or soften it while the reality is much worse.
(this as an antidote to Fanny trash talking the Bertrams to Susie in 1999 my beloathed)
and you’re right, the narration also works best because so much of Fanny’s character relies on her inner thoughts. it’d be a bit of a challenge to find the right balance of Unreliable Narrator Fanny and Most Observant Person in the Room Fanny, as well as the right balance of stuff she leaves out of her tale but is still shown vs. what isn’t shown at all (such as Henry’s perspective of falling in love with her), but with some good brainstorming and trial and error, I think it would be very good!
your idea also somewhat reminds me of (sorry!) Little Women 2019, with the flashbacks to their childhood being interspersed with the second half of the story until after Laurie’s proposal, at which point we return to the present and experience the rest of the story in “real time.” so it’d be a similar thing here. oh, we’d also have to decide how much (if at all) Susan might interrupt the narration to give her own comments on it, possibly expressing skepticism or concern about the more dubious parts of the story.
honestly, this gives me so much to think about and I love it!! thanks so much for sharing it with me!
#but you know you’ll have to collaborate with me when I do this 🙂↕️#ask elly#friends 💌#thatscarletflycatcher#mansfield park#mansfield park adaptation committee
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don't look at me like that unless you mean it
pain, make your way to me, to me ♫ and i'll always be just so inviting
|| series masterlist || main masterlist ||
a/n: this chapter properly beat my ass. like. i struggled so hard to write this one you guys. however, i'm excited for the chapter after this one! i do think the next one will be a lot longer than the previous chapters, i've written a lot and i haven't even gotten halfway the plot of it. that being said, it may take a little longer to push out! as well as the fact that i will be working a lot this week (i do contracting work so i'm also lowkey daydreaming of joel half the time and let me tell you,, i will prob be putting out works based on those daydreams alone lmfaooo). anyways, i'll cut the rambling short- hope you guys are enjoying this fic! :)
word count: 3k
pairings: joel miller x f!reader
warnings & tags: minors dni, angst, reader dealing with past trauma, depictions of anxiety, ellie and reader spend time together, joel is cute at the end — please tell me if i missed anything!
Today marked your final day of administration duties for the week before a much-needed two-day break for patrol rotation.
You dreaded the switch more than ever now, but also because of the heat. During the summer, patrol weeks always felt like they came too quick. You could do the cool nights, you actually looked forward to those more, but you absolutely hated the long, unbearably hot days that preceded them.
The house had been quiet since your last conversation with Joel days ago. Since he held your face and told you that everything was going to be okay with the most tender look on his. Since you once again walked that careful line of what is and what could be.
During the day, you were able to keep yourself occupied with work, but it was harder at night when all you could do was stare at the ceiling and think yourself down a hole.
Ellie took note of your change in behavior. In fact, she knew it all too well. How it always looked like your head was somewhere else other than the present, the quietness, the thousand-yard stare. She especially sensed it when she overheard you and Joel talking on the back porch one night when you thought she wasn’t home, revisiting your previous conversation and asking how to break it to her that she couldn’t do patrol until things settled down. Though she didn’t outright confront you about it, she knew something was under your skin.
And she was right; you just couldn’t shake this off. So, you slung your pack over your shoulder and your gun in its holster on the way out to find the one person who could give you the answers you sought: Maria.
Her office resided on the second floor of the town hall, facing the wall built around Jackson, specifically arranged so she could watch the gate when she wasn't doing other duties around the town.
You thought up reasons and excuses to give for dropping in, but they all pointed to ones that wouldn’t warrant a visit or would reveal too much of your own thoughts.
Coming to the Bison tomorrow? No. She wouldn’t be interested in having that conversation, probably. Hey, any updates from patrol? Too direct. She’ll know you’re looking for something. You scoffed at yourself for not having a better plan.
Approaching her door, you silently prepared yourself for a somewhat calculated conversation. You knew her guarded nature, and you needed to employ a cunning approach to elicit the details you came for. Be light– not intrusive or eager. Maria was smart, you had to conceal and control your words and expressions.
You plastered on the biggest smile you could muster and knocked on the door, peeking your head in. “Maria, not catching you at a bad time, am I?”
Her head turned towards you, “Oh please, come in,” she gestured for you to join her at the window she stood at, "out of anyone, I'm glad it's you that came knocking."
This.. could be easier than you thought. You sauntered over next to her and followed her line of sight that fell upon the patrol, they'd been in a tight circle just before the gate. Tommy stood in the center of it all– seemingly giving a speech as he pointed and paired up people as he went along. When you caught sight of Joel, your heart skipped a beat, followed by a weight of discomfort. You watched as Fitz strolled over to him with a wide grin, which of course he didn’t return.
"Most of the time, I don't feel anything when he leaves," Maria's voice was calm and steady, "because part of me knows that he'll come back." She maintained her gaze below, shaking her head that it was almost imperceptible. "But now.. I'm not so sure of that."
You turned your attention to her, eyebrows slightly furrowed, looking for any indication of emotion from her words, but she stayed the same. Relaxed. Which contrasted from what she was insinuating. And while she was speaking of her own dilemma, you couldn't help but see that it was yours too.
“I’m gonna tell you something that has to stay between us,” you eased your expression as she shifted to face you, “and I’m gonna trust that you keep it to yourself, for now, at least.” Her eyes locked on you with caution before turning away to her desk, leaning her weight upon her palms.
"This group.. They're called the Washington Liberation Front. Most of them are former Fireflies."
Your jaw tensed at the name. The Fireflies, once perceived as fighting for a good cause, had betrayed you in the worst way possible, almost taking another person you loved, and framing it as a sacrifice for the greater good of humanity. Your hands twitched into a fist at the memory.
“Tommy started noticing the same descriptions on the patrol logs, so he sent a small group out for a couple weeks to see if they could find a trail.” You glanced back towards the window; the patrol had already left. "They found camps, concealed caches full of weapons and supplies.. And believe it or not, the last Firefly activity.”
You snapped your head at Maria as she chuckled lowly.
“Seems like they had some big operation in..” she flicked through some papers on her desk, dragging her finger across a page and tapping it once she found it, “Salt Lake City.”
It was like a pair of hands wrapped themselves around your throat.
No.
“I just- I don’t know-” she shook her head, “I don’t know what Jackson has to do with it.”
The wounds were tearing open, reminding you of all the bloodshed from that day, and how it stained your hands permanently. That shattered hospital, a place forever burned into your memories, tormented your conscience and left you wishing that you could erase every second spent in there.
You slowly leaned your arm on the window sill, trying to stabilize yourself as it felt like you could've collapsed right then and there. You hoped to God that your face wasn't giving anything away as you tried to maintain steady eye contact with her, even though she wasn't looking at you. She pulled a tattered paper from her drawer and handed it to you. "We found this the night before the meeting."
With shaky hands, you unfolded a map marked with color-coded strategic points and messages in regard to the group's surveillance of Jackson.
The havoc you wreaked on the Fireflies hadn’t been enough to end them, leading to something far worse; a bigger, stronger, more threatening militia than you could’ve imagined. The weight of the world threatened to crush you, you tried to control your breathing through your nose and struggled to keep your hand steady as you looked over the map. You felt your heart beating so hard that you were sure Maria could hear it too.
You had to maintain your composure. Nobody in Jackson knew, not even Tommy, and you were not about to fill the gaps for Maria right now.
As you studied it, you noticed an emblem in the top right corner that read ‘W.L.F’ with a crudely drawn wolf head right beneath it. Ugh– another one of those cliché military group symbols designed with an overinflated ego and heightened sense of self-importance. Overlooking your personal issues with it, you read a specific note in red ink:
WV - EC - CB
MVL > BM
Mike, Tango 2x, Sierra 2x
Fuck, that does looks like some sort of tracking. Goddamnit, Tommy.
Your face scrunched up as you reread the words, racking your brain to figure out the combination of military-alphabet and abbreviations. You held up the map with an inquisitive brow, “Have you figured this out?”
“No,” Maria shook her head as she pulled out more papers from her desk, stacking them gently before pushing them into your possession, “but I think maybe you can."
She looked at you in a way that let you know that you couldn't decline at least trying. You reluctantly nodded as you folded up the map and added it to the pile you held in between your fingers. Her trust in you was appreciated, but at the same time, you didn’t want it. Not for this, at least.
You gave her an affiliative smile and turned away to the door, but she called your name at the last moment as your hand grabbed the handle, anchoring you where you stood. You turned over your shoulder to her.
“Do you have any idea what they want with Jackson?”
You bit your lip and shook your head in a moment of silence.
“No.”
The rest of the day dragged on longer than ever, and forcing yourself through interactions proved harder to be than you thought. Even though most of your conversations were regular routine checks, you dreaded each one. You counted down the minutes until you could seal yourself away in your home.
The papers stuck out of your pack the whole day, a nagging reminder of what you had to look at sooner or later.
As soon as the town lights came on, that was your cue that your work day had come to a close, and you carried yourself home as quickly as possible, feeling like your legs would give up on you at any moment. Once the door clicked shut, you slumped against it and slid until you hit the floor, throwing the cursed papers away from you and sitting in complete silence and darkness.
You wanted to cry. Scream. Punch, kick, or break something. All day, you had to bottle up this knowledge while faking your smiles and laughs. But now it all came barreling down on your head. You had just gotten everything back, finally able to put the past behind you. But you felt it resurfacing with a mean fucking vengeance, and you didn’t know if you could endure it this time.
If this was your karma– a toll had already been taken. How much more had to give for your sins?
You tried to take deep breaths, but they seemed to make things worse. A familiar dizziness and numbness riddled your body as your hands and arms trembled. The air was getting thicker, and you were gasping out, fearing you couldn’t get enough of it into your lungs. Tears blurred your vision and hot streaks streamed down your face. Involuntarily, you rocked back and forth, hiding your face in your hands and knees that were pulled to your chest, and letting out broken cries and choked breaths.
It hit you with an overwhelming force. Your thoughts spiraled, each worry and concern feeding into the next. Minutes stretched into eternity, and it felt impossible to rip yourself from the vicious cycle.
You rested your head against the door, pushing out heavy sighs to ground yourself from the come down of adrenaline, and letting a profound exhaustion settle in. You rubbed at your eyes to dry any residual tears and massaged your temples, staring straight forward at the laundry room at the end of the hall. The streetlight filtered through the back door and glowed over a pair of Joel’s boots and Ellie’s sneakers kicked off next to each other. You whimpered and closed your eyes, not ready to start crying all over again.
You wanted them home so indescribably bad.
When you opened them, they landed on the documents strewn about the floor in front of you. And with a flicker to the laundry room and back, you leaned forward to grab them and pushed yourself off the floor.
Upstairs in your room, you flicked on a lamp and spread out the papers onto your bed to see exactly what Maria had given you: The map and a roster of members retrieved from their camp, a copy of Jackson's previous and future patrol schedules, threat assessment reports from patrolmen, and descriptions pulled from patrol logs.
You lazily glossed over the threat assessment reports, most of them contained the same details and alluded to the same idea that they meant harm. You didn’t bother looking at the roster and patrol logs for now, not even trying to attempt to make connections between descriptions and names and whatnot.
You grouped the items and slipped them into your nightstand drawer, turning your attention back to the map and patrol schedule. You sunk into your bed as you flipped through the several pages of the schedule, reading the same names, days, and times over and over again, your eyes lingering longer when they read Joel’s name.
After a certain point, you couldn’t make out anything, and a fizzled-out frustration crept in as the pieces of parchment became nothing more than just blurs of ink. Your head was pounding between the crying and attempting to make sense of all the information. Your fingers soothed the skin on the bridge of your nose, gliding over your eyebrows and temples, and then dragging down to rest your cheeks in the palms of your hands.
“Hello! Anybody home?”
Ellie’s voice caught you off guard, you hadn’t even heard the front door open.
“Up here!”
You quickly stowed away the rest of the papers in your nightstand and made your way downstairs. She'd been taking her shoes off on the couch when you saw her, and you felt instant relief. She was home. Home and safe. She peered over her shoulder at you as she fussed with the laces, "All the lights were off?"
“Oh- I just.. got in a few minutes ago,” you turned into the kitchen in time to miss the iffy look she gave you, “wasn’t sure if you were coming home or not.”
Ellie followed into the kitchen after you. “Sorry, I know you said not to be out past curfew,” she gestured two glass tupperwares in her hands towards you, “I was packing up leftovers from Dina’s for you and Joel.”
With that sheepish smile on her face, you couldn’t even be mad at her. She’d been late because of you. You smiled warmly at the sentiment, placing them on the counter and pulling her into a hug, holding her longer and tighter than you normally would, afraid to let go as if maybe you wouldn’t get the chance again. As you broke away, you lovingly smoothed her hair, “Thank you, Ellie.”
She stayed in the kitchen even after you went to store the leftovers in the fridge, watching you with an attentiveness you weren’t particularly used to from her. “Something on your mind?”
Her bottom lip jutted out, her voice a little higher than normal. “No.. Just wondering if maybe you wanted to.. watch a movie?” A small smile appeared on her face as she raised her shoulders.
You mirrored her smile. “I’d love to, kiddo. Why don’t you go pick out what you want to watch?”
She shook her head, walking over to you and guiding you out of the kitchen. “Nuh-uh. You always let me pick, I want you to pick and I’ll get everything else ready.”
You chuckled at her insistence and padded into the living room, crouching before the media center and picking through the titles until you found the one that piqued your interest the most.
Once you had it, you popped it into the DVD player and fiddled with the remote until it was at the title screen. You moved the coffee table in front of the tv and pulled the couch over accordingly, and just when you were about to go fetch more blankets and pillows, Ellie joined you with your share of the leftovers heated up “just incase” and a plethora of snacks and drinks. She swatted at you to sit while she reminded you that you were only supposed to pick the movie and nothing more, scolding you down the hall as she retrieved all the movie night necessities.
“Curtis and Viper 2? I swear, you and Joel are the same person sometimes!” She laughed as she finally saw the screen. “Speaking of Joel– he’s gonna be so mad when he sees that we watched it without him-”
“Again!” You blurted out with her, falling into a fit of laughter.
For the next almost two hours, you were able to forget about your entire day, solely enjoying the time you had with Ellie. Together, you recited your favorite lines from the film without missing a beat, humming the soundtrack while making dramatic action-like moves with your arms at each other. You bursted out in laughter at the cheesy one-liners, and gripped the blanket with anticipation at the climax of the film, though you knew the resolution. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much and your lungs ached in a happy pain.
This was what you needed.
In somewhere in the falling point of the film, you dozed off to sleep, unable to fight against the soft pillows and blankets you were wrapped up in. Ellie noticed when she went to nudge you during another scene you both loved and you didn’t respond, and instead of waking you up, she lowered the volume on the tv and sat with you until the end credits rolled.
It was well after midnight when Joel came home and Ellie was already in her house in the back. She’d tiptoed around the house to clean up so you wouldn’t have to in the morning, but forgot to put the DVD back with the others.
He almost walked past the living room until he saw the furniture rearranged, taking a few steps in to see you peacefully sleeping on the couch. He mustered up a tired smile at the sight of you, gently reaching out to brush stray hairs from your face.
And when he noticed Curtis and Viper 2 still on the coffee table, his smile deepend despite missing out on movie night once again. He spoke in a whisper that could have easily been to you or himself.
“You two are gonna be the death of me, you know that?”
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fic#tlou#the last of us#tlou fanfiction#annasmasterlist#annawrites
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