#sighs dreamily maybe in a perfect world

[mijuku-dreamer]

🎃 Magitober Day 1 - Fav Magical Girl ✨

*rotates my blorbos*

[k00ldino]

v.. vector

[gghostwriter]

Camaraderie

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and some unwanted guests catch you singing at a bad time Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.1k a/n: something short n’ sweet, get it? i know i said i was sick and I still am but i wanted to really write something based on this post so i did and since I’m still battling the flu, this isn’t my best work nor has this been edited but still posting it for the fun of it all! Hope you like it. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗

Spencer Reid was never one to forget. After all, his near perfect memory didn’t allow him to, which was a curse and a blessing on itself. So it came to everyone’s surprise when Morgan came strolling in the BAU office after hours to pick him and Luke up for a scheduled boys’ night out and the boy genius innocently asked what he was doing there.

“No way,” Morgan chuckled, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Pretty boy has forgotten something? It must be my lucky night ‘cause this only happens once in a lifetime.” 

“You really forgot?” Luke clarified as they all packed into Morgan’s four door vehicle. “Oh man, I thought you were pulling my leg a while ago when I brought it up and you made no comment.”

“It really slipped my mind!” Spencer’s voice going up in defense. 

The duo laughed. 

“Or maybe you’re getting old,” Morgan needled as the car came to a stop at a red light.

Spencer shook his head, wishing to drop the subject. “Hey, do you mind passing by the apartment for a bit? I didn’t tell her that I was going to be out late since it you know, slipped my mind—”

“Can’t you just text her for that?” Morgan argued back.

“—and I’ll drop off my dirty go bag.” 

“Oh got the missus doing the laundry?” Luke teased. 

“She’s not my wife yet,” he sighed dreamily. If he was going to be honest with himself, he was looking forward to it. He had half the mind to propose elopement when got down on one knee but the excitement you radiated off when discussing about themes, dinner placements, and the wedding gown was enough for him to dispose of that idea quickly. It didn’t matter how fancy or how long the planning would take, as long as at the end of it all, he got to call you his and you get to call him yours. Everything in between was just lavish wrapping to present the world Mr and Mrs Reid. 

The car came to a stop, bringing him out of his musings. 

“Thanks Morgan,” Spencer started to exit the passenger seat. “No need to go up, I’ll be quick.”

They both shook their heads, also stepping out—Morgan from the driver’s side and Luke from the side beside him.

“We’ll say hi to the future Mrs Reid,” he patted his back as the trio packed into the elevator up to his floor.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. With your busy work schedule and the upcoming nuptials, it was a rare occurrence for anyone from the team, expect for Garcia, to catch even a glimpse of you.

Echoing melody was the first thing that greeted them once they stepped out of the lifts. 

He laughed under his breath, already knowing that it was coming from the home you both shared. It had been a ritual for you, of sorts, as the only neighboring apartment was empty from tenants. There was really no one to scold you for making any ruckus at this acceptable 7pm time. Spencer, for one, wasn’t one to spoil your fun. He loved seeing you be free, dancing around in his clothing and singing the lyrics no matter how off key. 

Key slotted to the door, he let themselves in without any words exchanged—just looks and laughter under their breath.

—and I’m obsessed Are you free next week? I bet we’d have really good

Spencer admired your swaying form from behind. Wearing his Caltech tee that was three times too big for you, neckline slipping off to one shoulder. His very own personal sunshine chasing away all the darkness that had tainted his very being. 

Unaware of your audience, you belted out the next cheeky lyrics. “Come right on me, I mean camaraderie. Said you’re not in my—” 

Luke slapped his mouth to stop his chuckle from escaping while Morgan’s eyebrows raised at an all time high.

“Love,” Spencer urgently called out.

“—timezone, but you wanna be—eek!” You shrieked, turning to face the voice of your lover, only to find two more unaccounted for in the audience. 

“Hey pretty girl,” Morgan drawled out. “That’s some nice singing you’ve got there.” 

You felt your face flush with mortification. Out of all the people to have caught you, it had to be Morgan. The self titled big brother who liked to tease all he held dear to his heart. 

“W-what are you all doing here?”

Spencer reached out to give you chaste kiss on the lips. “We’re going out for a boys’ night out and I forgot all about it.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re all here exactly.”

“I was just going to drop off my dirty go bag and they wanted to say hi,” he smiled at the embarrassment he could clearly see written in your expressive face. 

But i bet we‘’d have really good bed chem How you pick me up, pull ‘em down, turn me ‘round Oh, it just makes sense How you talk so sweet when—

“Oh my god,” your feet pattering on the hardwood floor as you ran to stop the vinyl still playing in the background. “Not one word,” you threatened the duo with a finger raised up high.

They both raised their hands up in defense but mirth was clearly painted on their faces. This was definitely becoming a lethal ammo perfect for quips and teasing. 

“Okay, you three out,” you all but pushed them out to the lobby. “I need to bury myself in copious amount of wine and please, forget everything you saw, okay, and Spence—” you leaned in to give him a kiss goodbye and squeezed his hand that held yours. “—I’ll see you when you get back. Have fun!” 

The door slammed shut without another word uttered.

Morgan turned to Reid with a smirk on his lips. “So camaraderie, huh?”

“Shut up,” Spencer quipped back, giving him a slight shove towards the elevator.

But before he himself stepped into the awaiting lifts for a night of no doubt teasing and innuendos, Spencer sent a quick message back to his other half with cheeks red and a grin on his face.

Your wish is my command, love. Later. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[monamipencil]

— right here | j.ww

⋆ pairings; wonwoo x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut, stalker themes, angst, fluff, 90s! au ⋆ w.c; 2.9k+ ⋆ warnings; stalking, a brief non-con talk (doesn't actually happen), masturbating (m.&f.), almost phone sex, stealing of panties, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, he's a bit toxic and an idiot, he's a law student, reader's parents are mentioned as strict and conservative ⋆ a/n; yeah... tried to make it dark and failed miserably. and yes wonwoo reads kafka and you can't change my mind.

stalker! wonwoo who also loves horror movies and hence loves to pull little pranks on you.

“so, gotta boyfriend?” his voice is distorted by the voice changer before it reaches you on the other side. he sighs dreamily, eyes focused on your figure as you cook dinner.

you're not wearing any pants, just an oversized shirt. even though he knows your answer, he waits for you to reply. you blow the soup before tasting it, your landline phone pinched between your shoulder and ear.

“why do you ask?”

wonwoo smiles, leaning against the tree in your backyard. it's almost the same age as you. he knows that. he also knows you live with your parents 'cause they want to protect their little girl from the world. and that you're all alone for tonight, and you share his taste for horror movies.

you move around the kitchen, occupied with the dish. “'could take you out on a date,” he suggests.

you roll your eyes with a scoff, but a small part of you wants to entertain the idea. the idea of going on a date with your digital fling for 3 months does sound enticing. you let the idea sink in as you stir the contents of the pot.

wonwoo groans when you lean your elbows on the counter, giving him a perfect view of your ass. the navy blue underwear, or is it black? he squints his eyes and looks closer. whatever it is, it has him rock-hard beneath his pants.

“did you stub a toe?” you ask with amusement to which he laughs. your visage changes when you realise what he could be doing on the other end. “wait, what are you doing?”

“what do you think i'm doing?” he smirks, watching you move off the counter and closer to the phone body. you twirl the coil cord with your fingers and bite your lip.

“I don't,” you take a deep breath, “know.”

he pulls a cotton underwear from his blazer pocket and presses it to his nose, inhaling your scent. his cock twitches with need, and he suppresses a groan. holding his wireless Nokia 6110 between his shoulder and ear, he undoes his jeans.

it's freezing cold outside, and the risk of mosquitoes is high, but he simply doesn't care. wonwoo pulls his cock out, hissing at the cold air biting his tip. he wraps his fingers around the base, lazily stroking it before wrapping his cock with your underwear that went missing a couple of days ago.

you're at a crossroad in the kitchen. a part of you basks in this debauchery, and the other knows that this very well could be some middle-aged pervert or some 12-year-old messing with you.

“you're so pretty, princess.” he grunts into the phone, hips bucking into his hand.

“you don't even know how I look like..” you trail off, lowkey turned on. wait no! he could be an old man, ew.

he chuckles, eyes darting towards your figure leaning back on the counter with your pouted lips and knitted eyebrows. “maybe..”

wonwoo presses your panties on his tip with his thumb, teasing his slit. his breath quickens and worry looms over your features at his silence.

“you don't know the things I want to do to you.”

you roll your eyes again with a sigh. “really? i wonder what it could be.” the boredom in your tone amuses him.

“I want you to sit on my face,”

a scandalised gasp erupts from your throat before acting nonchalant again. “oh yeah? what else, ghostface?” your breath falters, and your stomach flips. you don't even want to think about what's happening between your legs.

“I'd slowly kiss down your body and make you come undone in all ways.”

well, shit. your legs snap close and bite your lips to stop any embarrassing noises from spilling out. the logical part of you drowns in the wave of horniness that hits you. wonwoo doesn't wait for you to speak and continues.

“I want to strip you bare and make love to you.” his hand movements quicken when he sees you slip a hand down your panties. he sucks in oxygen like he's deprived of it. the cold bites at his skin and his breaths turn foggy, but the thought of you warms him from inside.

your thoughts muddle, and any common sense is thrown out the window when you feel your arousal sticking to your panties. you can't offer him many words, and it brings you embarrassment at how easily you fold. to keep up your facade, you scoff into the speaker but wait for him to speak up.

but the line disconnects, filling you with disappointment and wanting. you place the phone on the cradle and sit down on the floor. the disappointment doesn't deter you from touching yourself to the thoughts of him. you wonder how he sounds in real life and imagine him doing the things he spoke of.

your toes curl as you apply pressure to your clit, rubbing it incessantly. your other hand plays with your nipples, pinching and rolling them over your t-shirt. you try and try but can't climax. you pull out your hands with anger and annoyance.

burying your head in your knees, you think of blocking him but realise he's probably using *67. the hiss of the boiling snaps you back to reality, and you stand up in a hurry to look at the food. you groan, looking at the sad-looking dish staring back at you.

the telephone rings, piling up on your irritated state. “what?” you bark, teeth grinding and knuckles turning white.

“come outside,” a low voice tells you.

“what?” you repeat, softer this time. before the gears in your brain could turn, you find yourself at the front door, turning the knob. it feels like whiplash when your eyes land on the person outside.

“wonwoo? what are you doing here?”

now, why the hell was your ex-boyfriend at your door? and wait.. is he your ghostface?

the possibility—possibility? it's the fucking truth. he's the one who's been calling you anonymously for 3 months and filling the hole in your romantic life. the very hole that he left.

he looks the same—almost the same—but then you notice the faint ring of dark circles, the tiredness in his eyes, and, is that your panties hanging from his blazer pocket?

it doesn't take long for your pent-up emotions to flood your senses and suddenly, you're pulling him in, and locking your hands around his neck. you press your lips to his and let his hands wander your body.

 “wonwoo, fuck!”

you throw your head back on the handrest and tug at his hair roots. his tongue laps at your cunt, and his nose brushes your clit as you lay fully bare on your couch. wonwoo’s grip on your hips holds you down while he slurps and sucks on your hole, tongue prodding inside every now and then.

his soft lips mold with your pussy lips, and his over-grown hair tickles your inner thigh. his hungry eyes meet yours before he pulls away with your fluids glistening on his skin. he ascends on you like a predator sizing up its prey. your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him down.

the soft material of his t-shirt presses against your burning skin, and you feel cold without his warmth. “off,” you huff, tugging at the cloth. he obliges with a smile. soon he joins you on the couch, and feeling his bare skin on yours elicits a variety of emotions from you.

you’re ready to break down and cry but also have the urge to slap him along with the cauterizing need to have him inside you. he stills for a moment, silently looking for reassurance to go ahead. you tilt up your head, kissing him softly and breathing him in. you forgot how intimate it felt to share your breath with another.

wonwoo kisses your forehead and moves back, positioning himself between your legs. “condom?” you croak.

“I don’t have one.”

eyeing the hesitant look on your face, he continues. “I haven’t slept with anyone … after you.”

you crash your lips against his, tongue pushing past his lips. you moan wantonly, and the noises of wet kissing reverberate through your eardrums. you card your fingers through his lush black locks and tilt your head, kissing him deeper and slower.

your core pulsates as his hands rediscover your body. goosebumps rise on your skin when his thumb brushes against your hard nipple, and you shiver, feeling his cock on your thigh. you gasp for air, pulling away. his hands brush down your back to your ass, kneading the flesh beneath his fingers.

wonwoo leans back on the handrest, helping you to position on his cock. you sink down on his cock with his help. you moan in unison when you bottom out. his raw cock kissing your insides sends a flurry of tingles through your body.

you grind down to stimulate your clit. shameless moans escape your lips when he thrusts up, balls slapping against your ass. his hands make a home on your hips as he continues drilling his cock inside you. you throw your hands around his neck, pressing yourself against him. you don’t kiss him but place your lips close to his, and with every moan and whimper, your lips brush against his.

you lose yourself in pleasure, in the way his cock splits you open and in the way he sucks on your nipples. one of his hands moves down to rub your clit as he keeps sucking on your nipple. he moves to the other one, swirling his tongue around the bud.

your body trembles with stimulation, and you bounce on his cock harder, desperately chasing your high. wonwoo detaches from your tits to press a hot kiss against your lips. you moan against his lips, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten with each thrust.

his tip kisses your insides, and your arousal forms a creamy ring around the base of his cock. you're way too gone, lost in the warmth of his hands and the depth of his onyx eyes.

a certain thrust and the rubbing of his hand has you trembling above him. your legs give out, and you rest your head on his shoulder, trying to catch your breath.

“I can't—I,” wonwoo shushes you and repositions his hands on your ass, gripping it as he thrusts upwards into your cunt. the sheer force of his thrusts makes you whimper and dig your fingernails into his broad shoulders.

“wonu,” you draw out his name as your face contorts in pleasure.

“yes, princess?” the nickname never fails to fluster you, and the rich timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. he leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses on your neck and chest.

“please, I want to—want to cum.”

he nibbles on your earlobe, wetting the skin with his tongue. “mhm. but bad girls don't get to cum.”

“bad girl?” you whimper, “but I didn't do anything!”

“y'sure, princess?”

“yes!”

“you started talking to a stranger on the phone. yes, it was me. but you weren't aware.” you whine when he slows his pace to a stop. you clench around his length, chasing for some friction.

“you started locking your windows. I thought you liked it when I used to climb into your room through your window—”

you cut him off, “you broke up with me for your stupid friends!”

“and.. I left it open for the first few days after you left...” your voice reduces to a whisper.

“I'm sorry, princess.” he starts. “but it seemed like you moved on with your little church boy,” he hisses through his teeth, voice lacing with venom.

“joshua is my friend.” you hiss back.

wonwoo clicks his tongue, hating the taste of his name on your tongue. the chances of you kicking him out if this keeps up are high. so he changes the topic.

“y'k how badly I wanted to climb into your room? to take off your blankets, and push aside your panty. you would like that wouldn't you?”

“for me to have my way with you while you're asleep? even if you wake up, you'll let me hit it like a slut, right?”

your pussy flutters around his cock and you whine, hitting his chest. wonwoo smirks and leans into your ear, “dirty, dirty princess.” his voice drops an octave.

“I was peeping on you all this time. you wore my shirts, princess? love me that much? hmm?”

you hide your face in his shoulders but feel his smile radiating through his voice. “fuck you.”

“you are,” he grips your hips, pulling out halfway before slamming his cock back in. your slick arousal drips down your thighs, uncomfortably. his cock stretches your gummy walls and the coil in your stomach tightens.

it's hard to adjust to his animalistic pace and you're overwhelmed. lust and passion clouds your senses and the coil snaps. the orgasm crashes over you and your lewd moans fill the room. your body trembles above his and you grip onto him for dear life.

your first orgasm in three months is mind-numbing. wonwoo continues to thrust, chasing his orgasm. he grunts when you violently clench around his length, forcing him to cum.

warm ropes of cum decorate your walls and the wet sounds of sex halts as he pulls you closer. he rests his forehead on yours, sharing his breath with you.

by the time you calm down, you're flooded with shame and the reality of what just happened. his arms and the sound of his heartbeat is no longer comforting. removing his arms around you, you stand up.

you hiss and clench your thighs at the ache between them. his essence drips out of your hole down your thighs, a reminder of what you just did.

wonwoo sits up, worry filling his system as he watches slip on your t-shirt and move away from the couch. he wants to say something, but what can he say? hey, sorry for leaving you and stalking you. 'think we can get back together?

he cringes at himself and watches helplessly as you move towards the vinyl record holder. you pull out a vinyl he recognises and place it on the player.

‘The Chain’ by Fleetwood Mac fills the room, and you walk back to the couch, sitting with space between you two. the soft strum of guitar and drums calms his nerves.

“why?” you fiddle with your fingers, refusing to look at him as you ask. he sighs and shifts a little closer, t-shirt covering his body and glasses back on. “I,” he sucks in a sharp breath.

“I had doubts about … us.”

“I didn't think we'd work out and my friends seemed to agree. I—I'm sorry.” he holds his gaze down with shame.

“it was stupid, i know. but I thought our differences won't work out.”

“how can you decide it before anything actually happens?” you bark at him, your heart clenches with frustration.

“I—”

‘and if you don't love me now, you will never love me again’

wonwoo cringes inwardly. who would have thought that the song he used to dance with you to would represent his life now? he cannot find words to express what he wants to say. two years of majoring in law and literature down the drain.

he simply moves closer till his thighs press against yours and leans his head on your shoulders. “did you only miss me for my body?”

“no!” his defense comes a bit stronger, and he hugs you closer. “no. it's not like that. I missed you.”

‘I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain’

you take his face in your hands, kissing his lips softly. but you break it as soon as your lips meet and drag him upstairs to your room. your grip on his tighter, harsher, like you're trying to prove a point.

wonwoo doesn't protest that he's naked and lets you drag him away. reaching your room, you pull him inside and show him the stacks of books lining your nightstand.

he adjusts his glasses and squints at the books. he saw you buying books and reading them almost every night. he wondered how your conservative parents suddenly allowed you to read books, let alone ... law books?

“law books. I fought with my parents and bought them, just so that we could talk about it because I don't know shit about law!”

you're sobbing, tears cascading down your cheeks, and he feels his heart skip a beat or two. his eyes dart towards the other books on your shelf, Sherlock Holmes and Kafka, his favorites too.

he pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. he smiles at your faux protests and holds you softly.

wonwoo doesn't tell you but he has his own collection of Fleetwood Mac vinyl records lining up in his shelf. he bought Delta of Venus and A Spy in the House of Love, even though he doesn't like the vulgarity of the books you secretly read.

he holds you closer, and for anyone who looks into your windows, they'd only see the silhouette of a single person. your sobs quiet down, and he whispers soft apologies into your skin.

and wonwoo discovers that love is simple after all. love is reading Law and Kafka in your moonlit room filled with '60s rock music.

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy @jespecially

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @gyuguys @embrace-themagic

@aaniag (send an ask to be added on the taglist!)

[moonmaiden1996]

Love at First Sight (According to Nagumo, Anyway) Part 2

I honestly didn't think this story would be as popular as it was. Here is part two. I love this man! Requests are open for him!

The bell above the door jingled as you stepped into Sakamoto’s convenience store for the second night in a row. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly, casting a dim glow over the aisles of instant noodles and neatly stacked snack packs. It was late, you were exhausted, and the only thing keeping you upright was the promise of caffeine.

What you didn’t expect was the man waiting for you like a lovesick puppy.

Nagumo was already there—this time perched cross-legged on the counter, juggling a few snack packs with the effortless grace of someone who had far too much energy for this hour. The motion was fluid, almost mesmerizing, but it all came to a screeching halt the moment he caught sight of you.

His entire face lit up like a firework.

“She’s back,” he breathed, voice dripping with awe, as if your mere presence had turned his world right-side up again. All at once, he lost control of his juggling act, snacks tumbling to the floor and rolling away unnoticed. In one smooth motion, he leapt off the counter, landing in front of you with the practiced ease of a man who had spent his life making grand entrances.

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “...Do I know you?”

Nagumo froze mid-smirk.

Behind him, Sakamoto let out a long-suffering sigh from his place behind the register, his expression screaming, why is this my life?

Nagumo, however, looked as if you had just physically struck him. His hand clutched his chest dramatically, eyes wide with betrayal. “You—” He pointed at himself. “Don’t remember me?”

Your gaze flickered over him. Messy hair, smug yet strangely charming grin, an energy that radiated mischief and unwavering confidence—none of it rang a bell. “No?”

Nagumo staggered back, gripping the counter for support as if he had taken a mortal wound. “No?” he echoed in disbelief.

Sakamoto rubbed his temples, not even bothering to look up. “She was exhausted last time. You probably didn’t leave much of an impression.”

Nagumo gasped, turning on him like he’d just been betrayed a second time. “How could I not leave an impression?!”

Sakamoto shrugged, utterly indifferent.

Nagumo turned back to you, determination blazing in his sharp eyes. “Okay, okay. Let’s fix this.” He smoothed out his jacket, took a deep breath, and then flashed you the most dazzling smile he could muster. It was the kind of smile that could sell you anything, the kind that dripped with charm and dangerous intent all at once.

“I’m Nagumo. Master of disguise, incredibly skilled assassin, and—most importantly—your future husband.”

You stared at him, then glanced at Sakamoto for confirmation. “He’s joking, right?”

Sakamoto didn’t even glance up. “I wish.”

Nagumo pouted, but there was an eager glint in his eyes, as if he found your skepticism utterly endearing. “Come on, don’t look at me like that. We had a moment yesterday.”

You squinted. “When?”

“When you spoke to me,” he said, as if that explained everything. “That word made me fall in love with you even more.”

“…Move?”

Nagumo sighed dreamily. “She said it again. My heart cannot take it.”

You exhaled sharply and stepped past him toward the fridge, your patience already wearing thin. “Listen, I’ve had a long day, I’m tired, and I just want my coffee. I can’t… I don’t… I want nothing to do with this.” You scrubbed your eyes tiredly. Maybe it wasn’t them; maybe you were hallucinating. That would make more sense than this…

Nagumo followed, utterly undeterred. “I can make your days better, you know. Imagine this: you wake up, and I’m already making breakfast—probably something impressive, like a perfect omelet. Followed by a back massage. Then, we go on a date. Maybe just the park. Maybe Paris. I’m flexible. I am very flexible, if you know what I mean.” His eyes wiggled frantically in front of your face.

You grabbed a can of coffee and shut the fridge door in his face.

“Not interested in you or how flexible you are.”

Nagumo gasped, reeling back as if you had just delivered a killing blow. He turned to Sakamoto, devastated. “She rejected me again.”

Sakamoto, unbothered, continued ringing up your drink. “You’re surprised? You’re being a creep.”

Nagumo turned back to you, his expression shifting from mock devastation to something more resolute. His amber eyes softened, but the mischief never fully left them. “That’s okay. I love a challenge.”

You groaned, trudging toward the register. “This is harassment.”

Nagumo grinned, trailing after you. “It’s romance.”

Sakamoto sighed, tapping the loudly beeping register. “Please stop encouraging him. ”

Nagumo placed a hand over his heart as if making a solemn vow. “I am but a humble man in love, Sakamoto. I will make her see how I am her perfect husband.”

You paid, took your drink, and turned toward the exit. “I’m leaving now.”

Nagumo leaned against the counter, watching you go with the kind of expression that belonged in a dramatic romance film. “See you tomorrow, my dear. I’ll be waiting! Your devoted husband-to-be…”

You didn’t even dignify that with a response.

The moment the door shut behind you, Nagumo exhaled sharply, slumping onto the counter. His fingers curled into his jacket as he stared at the door with an expression of pure longing.

“Man, she’s perfect.”

Sakamoto gave him a flat look. “You’re a disaster.”

Nagumo grinned, undeterred. “A romantic disaster.”

Outside, you cracked open the ice-cold coffee. “I gotta find a new convenience store. This one is full of weirdos. Assassin my ass.”

[thatoneneuvichiliauthor]

Small piece of post-canon Jayvik fluff and hurt/comfort

Jayce sighs against the grass, deeply content, as Viktor kneads the sore muscles of his back. They should probably get going, leave this flower field they’ve been teleported to and go explore the world, but they both have been deprived of affection for so long… They need this first, need to let their love for each other gently bloom anew after this interminable winter.

They’ve exchanged countless kisses already, but somehow, this, the tender press of his partner’s metal hands into his flesh, feels even more intimate. Under his thorough care, a tension that has lingered for months evacuates from Jayce’s body. Wherever Viktor touches, the corruption that has been incessantly plaguing him recedes. He doesn’t know how that’s possible, nor does he care. At the moment, only the relief matters to his pleasantly dazed mind.

However, as those marvelous fingers reach the center of his back, Viktor stills for a second, hesitant.

“Is this alright? Your scar… I wouldn’t want to put too much strain on it.”

“ ‘S okay. Feels good.” Jayce mumbles.

Just like that, the blissful ministrations resume, although his partner lightly caresses the damaged skin more than he massages it. And as a perfect addition, Viktor leans down to put a kiss right in between his shoulder blades

“Very well. Just tell me if there are any spots I should avoid.”

“It’s fine. I’ve had time to heal and… I know you’ll be gentle. You can touch all of me.”

His partner chuckles warmly at his choice of words.

“Careful there, Jayce. I could take you up on that offer.”

Still, for all his teasing, his strokes remain chaste, with no other purpose than to release Jayce of his dull suffering.

“And maybe I’d like you to,” He dreamily replies. “Just… later?”

Because, while he desires Viktor more than he has ever desired anyone else, he also yearns to prolong this soft, gentle moment, to melt into it like snow under the sun. So, for now, he’d rather surrender himself to its healing warmth than expose his bruised body to the raging fires of passion.

Oh, he doesn’t doubt he’ll be able to withstand that blazing heat soon enough, looks forward to it, even, but first, his many injuries need to be soothed and tended to before he can truly flourish again. Most of those wounds aren’t even visible, hidden deep within the maze of his psyche, but Viktor knows how to reach them with his loving touch and comforting voice all the same.

“Of course. Later.”

On that soft murmur, he returns to his task, gentle, devoted. His hands map all of Jayce’s body; His broad back, of course, but also his neck, his knotted shoulders, his waist, his legs… Those receive special care, especially the hurt one.

Viktor runs his fingers all over the damaged calf until not a single trace of corruption remains there. Jayce cannot help but gasp as the persistent throbbing finally ceases. It doesn’t take all of his pain away, of course not – At this point, nothing won’t. But it is such a groundbreaking change that it brings tears to his eyes.

It’s not just about the physical relief, though. The corruption of that awful timeline receding from his flesh… It stands as an ultimate testament to their bond, undeniable evidence that in the end, Viktor chose him and he chose Viktor…

A dam within him breaks. His shrunken heart, which has been inevitably withering without his partner there to delicately nurture it, gets nearly drowned in love. Emotions he believed long dead, or at the very least forever stunted, violently blossom within his chest. An intense sob shakes his tall frame.

“Jayce!” Viktor exclaims, worried. “Did… Did I hurt you?”

Words alone cannot even begin to describe what he is feeling, so Jayce rolls around and pulls his distressed partner into a tight hug.

“No, no you didn’t. I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m so happy, you have no idea… I have you back. I… I really have you back.” He whispers in amazed disbelief.

Tears born of pure happiness and adoration veil Viktor’s honey eyes also. His hands come to rest on Jayce’s relaxed back and hold him close. To his surprise, they are warm against his skin.

Human.

Covered in rough scars, much like Jayce’s leg, but human.

They are making each other human again.

Another sob crawls its way up his throat at this beautiful discovery.

“Oh, Jayce. Of course, you have me back. I won’t be going anywhere without you. You said it yourself, haven’t you? We finish this together.”

Jayce kisses him. Not on the lips, like he has done so many times before, but on the side of his jaw, just so he can see the unfeeling metal give way to soft flesh. He watches in awe as that miracle takes place, then directs his attention higher, toward his partner’s cheek this time.

As he dutifully covers all of his partner’s face and neck in kisses, laughter bubbles up their chest, sweet and carefree. Jayce feels lighter than he has in years, no longer crushed under an unbearable weight.

For a moment, the entire universe stands still, except for the gentle sway of the flowers under the breeze.

For a moment, their hearts beat in perfect tandem.

For a moment, nothing exists but them.

[lieutenant-amuel]

🌻 and 🌾 for Angel

Thank you!!! I’m sorry for taking so long. I know I could just answer these asks without writing short stories but I have already written them for the previous ask and I wanted to keep it going. Alas I wasn’t really in the mood for writing anything positive lately but now when I feel better myself, I can give Ángel’s optimistic nature justice.

🌻 What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them?

The sun rays broke through the window, shining on Ángel’s face, and he immediately opened his eyes, throwing the blanket aside and jumping out of his bed. A new day came!

Ángel went down to the first floor where Señor Suarez was already awaiting him with a freshly prepared breakfast. His favourite huevos rancheros along with the drink of agua fresca. He savored every bite and every sip, sharing all his plans for today with his father.

As Ángel finished eating the last piece of a fried egg, he didn’t forget to thank Lucas for preparing such a tasty dish for him and got to washing the plates. He still had enough time before the beginning of the first class at school. He wiped his plate, put it on the shelf, and ran to his room. He opened his chest where he kept his clothes and put on his school uniform, admiring himself in the mirror.

How much he loved dressing up! It was nothing but a classic school uniform that everyone at his school wore but he never passed up a chance to stand out and express himself. He had dozens of brooches and bracelets, whether they were crocheted or beaded, and always chose what to wear carefully to match it with his mood for the day.

Ángel and his friends were going to go to the lake to do zip-lining when school classes were over and after a moment of thinking he put on a white and blue crocheted bracelet and a fish brooch he got as a gift from his aunt. He looked at himself in the mirror, winking at his reflection, and took his bag. Now it was time to go to school.

Ángel kissed his father goodbye and hugged Nube when he went out into the backyard, promising him that he would take him for a walk as soon as he got home. Señor Garcia awaited him, and as Ángel jumped into his cart, they set off.

Ángel closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze on his face, and sharply opened them, turning to Señor Garcia. He had so much to tell him! Ángel clung into his arm, making a wide gesture in the air, and Señor Garcia smiled gently, listening carefully to everything he had to say.

“So, Abuela, Tía, and I were gathering flowers for their flower shop! It’s Sweetheart’s Day soon, and we wanted to have as many orchids as possible! This is such a beautiful holiday! Abuelo always prepares a special surprise for Abuela! But yeah. As for orchids. We always make sure to have all the different types of orchids, different colors, different sizes. . . Oh! Abuela loves yellow orchids! Her favorite color is red but Abuelo gave her a yellow orchid on their first Sweetheart’s Day! She has such fond memories of them!”

Ángel took a deep breath and sighed dreamily. “I love Sweetheart’s Day.”

Ángel looked around, admiring the view, and tilted his head back, watching the clouds. He might have lived far away from the city but he never regretted it. Blue sky, bright sun, gentle wind, being on the road in the wonderful company of Señor Garcia, eating snacks prepared for him by his father.

This day was already perfect, and he had so much to look forward to today! He was going to see his school friends, have fun at the lake, and take a walk with Nube. And those were just the things he had planned! He could also have a fencing session with his father, start a new crochet project, or maybe write a new letter to his mother. . .

Ángel touched Señor Garcia’s elbow and pointed his finger at the sky to make him look at the cloud that looked like a bear. Señor Garcia nodded with a smile, and Ángel shifted his gaze from one cloud to another, trying to figure out what each of them resembled.

What a delight to be alive!

***

I think this story speaks for itself: Ángel finds happiness in everything that surrounds him regardless of how big or small these things are. His favourite dish, choosing an outfit, talking with people he loves, thinking about his plans, everything can make his day brighter. And to be honest, I envy him.

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them

It’d been one week since Lucas and Alicia’s child was born. They decided on the name as soon as they learned that Alicia was going to give birth in December. It was the month when the whole kingdom celebrated Navidad, and choosing the names Ángela for a girl or Ángel for a boy seemed to be symbolic.

They had a boy and as they planned, he was given the name Ángel.

Lucas didn’t leave his son for a minute as Alicia spent most of her time resting in bed. He had and wanted to take care of both of them until she got back on her feet again after the months of being completely exhausted.

When Lucas was younger, he didn’t even think of becoming a father. He had lots of fun playing with Mercedes, Rubén, and Aurelio, his niece and nephews, but the thought of having his own child had never entered his mind. He and Alicia felt perfectly comfortable with each other, and a little child needing their constant attention simply didn’t fit into their hectic lifestyle.

But the news that Alicia was expecting a baby turned Lucas’ perception of his life upside down permanently. He was full of excitement, he couldn’t wait for the moment when he would finally meet his child, and now when he was sitting next to Ángel’s crib, he couldn’t take his eyes off him.

It was his child. His son. He was going to watch him grow and change. He was going to see his personality and interests shape. He was going to be by his side every step of his way.

It was incredible!

Lucas held Ángel when he heard that he woke up and lulled him back to sleep, gently swinging him and humming a lullaby that his father used to sing to him when he was little. Lucas remembered that Josefina forbade Gaspard and Candelaria sing lullabies to their children after she reminded them that music was banned in the kingdom.

But he turned a deaf ear to his mother’s demand since singing a lullaby was the only way he could soothe Ángel and put him to sleep. Nobody would hear him anyway, and was it really illegal to calm down a crying baby?

After a while Ángel finally closed his eyes and fell asleep again. It was already late, and Lucas was supposed to go to sleep himself but he didn’t. He kept his son in his arms and couldn’t stop gazing at him with a fond smile.

Ángel was Lucas’ everything.

***

Okay, it was an extremely difficult ask because Ángel won’t have a significant other (I don’t like the words boyfriend and girlfriend, forgive me) in the nearest future and I didn’t want to create a random character in love with Ángel just for this one short story. So, instead I made it platonic and wrote it from the perspective of the person who loves Ángel more than anyone else in the world. His father.

I don’t even know how to describe how much Lucas loves Ángel. His birth changed Lucas’ life drastically, and regardless of how much pain he had to endure after Ángel’s birth he’s still going to say that he has never been happier. Ángel is his world, he adores him, he’s immensely proud of him, he thinks his son is the most talented and charismatic person alive, and he’ll never get tired of showing his love to him.

Thank you again!

Soft OC Asks

[psyduc]

i was tagged! at some point!! by i believe @tjarry and @muppetjohntavares and maybe another person idk!! for the hockey player wrap thing and it's the Last Day Of The Year and i wanna do it before i forget again!!!!! this list should. surprise none of u imma be so real.

(i'm putting this under a cut because oh no i rambled didn't i)

ONE) matthew tkachuk he's my pfp. on discord i am in a few different servers as either "rat boy lover" or "matthew tkachuk girlie". he has bewitched me mind body and soul. i think in like.. february(?) i saw a photo set of him and his eyelashes and went now hold on a second, i think this is the hockey boy for me. i adore him so much and am constantly annoying my besties by talking about him So Damn Much Yall. he's a rat bastard and a great player and a sweetheart and a pest and he lives rent free in so many people's heads, both in a positive and negative way, and i am just completely captivated. remember when the cats won the conference finals and in the final seconds of the game, he was leaping for joy on the ice like an over excited kid??? i love him. ur honor? i love him so fucking much.

TWO) kris letang gateway player that got me back into hockey tbqh. tumblr user charlie tjarry showed me a picture and Immediately got my attention- picture a dog perking up at hearing a squeaky toy. that was me. sometimes i remember that kris letang exists like, out in the world, in real life, and i just have to sit down and sigh dreamily about it. i love his cool hot bitch persona and how he's actually really a fucking freak (the bug halloween costume. his dislike of sandwiches? his cat like tendencies). he's perfect when he's fucking up on ice and scoring own goals and he's perfect when he's fucking crushing it and breaking records. kris letang u truly are a legend

THREE) brandon duhaime i didn't really know this man existed until i logged on one day and saw that my dash was in flames because he got traded away from his family and boyfriend the wild. like a baby duck imprinting on the first person it sees, i was smitten Immediately. he barks! he gets into fights and loses! he screeches on the bench! he cracks coconuts open with his bare hands like some sort of floridian cave man!!! i'm so very very happy he's enjoying his time in washington and is surrounded by other freaks who adore and cherish him. it's what my sweet sad beautiful cringe son deserves

FOUR) pierre-luc dubois back when i was first getting into hockey, i saw a gifset of this man and immediately yelled at my hockey friends because how dare they not tell me that he Existed. he's always been in the back burner of my mind but only recently (when he got traded to the caps because. ya know. see above) have i done a deep dive into one mister pld and man i just. love him. skittish horse of a man. he's such a goofball actually and i love how he sets up plays for other people and like my beloved dew, i am so glad that he has found someplace that cherishes him. i hope washington is his forever home, i really, really do. also did yall know he has a bulldog named chowder. this is important information to me and i needed to share

FIVE) evgeni malkin i just love geno. so much. my first jersey was actually his breakaway jersey!!!! i just think he's really neat- i don't have as much of a like... "must study him under a microscope" urge like the other four boys listed here but i would kill for geno, if he asked. i don't think he would but like ya know, the option's there if he ever needs it ig. he's so fun to watch when he plays and i love how sometimes he's so on point and is this giant, insane machine of a man, and other times he decides that he doesn't want to play hockey while in the middle of actively playing hockey. we have to respect it.

i think i'm supposed to tag people but i do believe most of yall have done this already so ! idk. u can do it if u want, be free, make ur own choices

[britishchick09]

i had no idea that poto ace and aro week was a thing until a few minutes ago, but i have the perfect thing for it... a story from the poto rewritten short stories collection! :D

read it in full below or check out the audiobook my mom helped make! (and be sure to check out the other 5 stories!) i proudly present...

💚🤍🖤 christine the love detective 🖤🤍💜

 Christine was dreaming. She was with Papa, Raoul, Meg and Erik, all of them clad in white clothes. They laughed while sitting in a field of dandelions. A gentle breeze flew by.

Just then, the breeze picked up and a dandelion became caught in Christine's throat! She coughed it out while sitting up in bed. To her surprise, a flower petal floated out of her mouth!

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Meg exclaimed, standing on the bed next to her.

"Wha- What was that for?" Christine asked, trying to catch her breath.

"It's a gentle shower of tulip petals! You rolling over wasn't part of the plan."

Christine took the wet yellow petal with two fingers. "Why did you choose tulips? Roses are the Valentine's Day flower."

"And tulips are the friendship flower! And my favorite. Valentine's Day isn't just about romance, you know," Meg gave a sly smile. "Although I bet you'll be kissing Mr. E lots today…"

Christine felt her face flame. "No, I won't! Just once or twice."

"You'll do it so passionately that you'll have dozens of kids when you let go!"

"Stop it!" Christine exclaimed, playfully hitting Meg with her pillow. "That's not how it works, silly!"

Meg squealed as she fell down, her foot nearly hitting Christine in the face.

"I'm not interested in having children, not with Erik or Raoul or anyone else," she told Meg. "I'm not even interested marriage!"

"As Mama says, maybe you'll change your mind one day. But if not, that's okay. You have your friends!" Meg said as she sat up. "Valentine's Day is for all types of love- friendship, family…" She jumped out of bed. "And especially romance! Race you to the bathroom!"

She dashed out of their bedroom, but Christine stayed put. She slowly got out of bed as one word floated through her mind- 'romance'.

I've always enjoyed singing and reading about romance, and it's fun to think about others falling in love, she thought. But me falling in love? I can't imagine it! I know what romance is, but I don't know it. I've never felt it for myself.

Christine wandered to the kitchen, her mind lost in thought. She smiled at the smell of blueberry crepes.

"Good morning, Madame Giry." she greeted the matriarch, who was standing at the stove.

"Good morning, Christine," Madame Giry replied. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oui," Christine fiddled with a strand of her bedhead hair while watching Madame Giry carefully cut the crepe into a heart shape. "When you fell in love with Meg's father… What was that like?"

"Oh, falling in love with Jules was wonderful," Madame Giry responded with a smile. "When I saw him for the first time... why, I felt a light sensation that I had never felt before. My world felt new," She sighed dreamily. "It was a time I'll never forget."

"It sounds lovely." Christine said softly.

Madame Giry looked over at Christine. "Don't fret. I'm sure you'll find that special someone eventually."

Christine gave a small smile as the bathroom door opened. Meg sneakily tried to get a bite of breakfast while Christine took a couple plates to the living room table. The blueberry crepes were wonderful (especially when they looked like hearts!), but uncertain thoughts slightly dulled the taste.

'You'll find that special someone'… Christine spit toothpaste out of her mouth in a scoff before rinsing her toothbrush. Madame Valerius said the same thing when I was teen-aged. I don't think I'll ever find anyone more special than my friends! She splashed water on her face as a realization came to her. What if that means I'll never find true love? That's fine by me, but it means I'll never truly understand!

She worriedly turned off the sink and dried her face before going to the girls' bedroom.

As Christine made the bed, she thought back to when she saw her friends for the first time. She felt relieved upon seeing Raoul save her red scarf as a kid and was overjoyed to reunite with him years later. Meg made her feel welcome in the opera house and Erik was a surprising (and awkward) sight when they met in person!

But I didn't feel any light sensation, Christine thought. I've never felt that way with anyone.

She gave a frustrated sigh as she wrapped her corset over her torso. It was light pink... the color of love.

I feel love, but not romance. It sounds so wonderful! And yet... Christine laced her corset as she thought, Romance is such a mysterious thing. I want to know exactly what it is so I can feel it for myself someday. Everyone else has, so why can't I? I'm going to figure it out once and for- She winced as she accidentally pulled her corset laces too tight. …all.

Christine loosened the laces, determined to solve the mystery of love.

...

 After ballet practice, Christine and Meg hung a string of paper hearts up on the back wall of Christine's dressing room. They had spent most of the day before creating the decoration, which was their gift to each other.

"Be careful!" Christine told Meg, who was standing on her vanity seat.

"I- woah!" Meg nearly tripped, causing Christine to wince. "I am! For the most part, anyways," She secured the other end of the string with surgical tape. "There we go!"

She and Christine stood back, smiling as they looked at their creation.

"It's perfect." Christine said.

"The cutest string ever!" Meg agreed before reminding Christine, "Don't forget to put on your heart necklace. It's perfect for you and your boyfriends!"

Christine rolled her eyes. "The hearts represent Papa, my mother and me!" She took the necklace out of her father's bowl and smiled. "But maybe today, it can be Raoul, us and Erik."

"Aww, the middle heart is bigger because we're sisters!" Meg exclaimed, giving Christine a hug.

Christine chuckled softly. "Something like that."

She was clasping her mother's necklace when someone knocked on the door. After turning the necklace around, Christine opened the door.

"Raoul!" she exclaimed with a smile. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

Raoul smiled back. "Happy Valentine's Day, Christine!"

"I have a little present for you," Christine handed him a card. "Here you go."

The card showed a boat with a heart on its sail. On the water below was 'My love for you is bigger than the sea'.

Raoul chuckled. "Nice! Thanks so much. I couldn't find any roses at the flower shop, so…" He took a bouquet of red flowers out from behind his back. "I got you some chrysanthemums!"

"Oh!" Christine sniffed the flowers as she held them. "They smell just as lovely as roses."

Meg took a sniff as well. "She's just saying that to butter you up for some kisses. Roses are way better."

Christine's face grew warm as she gave her friend a look. Raoul's cheeks and ears were pink with surprise!

"I, uh, I guess they are," he said before composing his slightly flustered self. "Are you ready to go out? To the Bois, not some sort of romantic thing!"

Christine giggled. "I am," She gave the bouquet of chrysanthemums to Meg. "We'll be back soon."

"Have fun on your definitely not romantic date!" Meg said with a wink.

...

 Christine and Raoul spent the afternoon at Bois de Boulogne. They strolled down a tree-lined path while snacking on a box of chocolates from Rousseau's. (Their joint gift to each other!)

"You're in love with me, right?" Christine asked. "Romantically, I mean?"

Raoul popped a chocolate in his mouth. "It depends. Most of the time I'm not, but…" He swallowed the chocolate. "Sometimes, this attraction comes over me. I look at you and think, 'Hey, she's pretty'. I feel it when we're close."

Christine touched her hip with his. "Like that?"

"No, there has to be a certain mood. Like when we danced at the masquerade or after coming home from the bistro. But when we're kissing each other in silly places..." Raoul paused to kiss Christine on the nose. "See, it's not there."

"Huh. And what does that attraction feel like?" Christine asked as they resumed walking.

"Oh, I don't know, it feels..." Raoul thought for a few moments. "Well, I don't know how to describe it."

I don't, either. Christine thought with a small sigh.

"I guess it feels like a magnet. I feel drawn towards you," Raoul chuckled. "Hey, that must be why they call it attraction!"

Christine couldn't help but chuckle as well. "It definitely is!"

"It's not a strong magnet, though. It's sort of weak. But that doesn't mean I don't love you! The romantic part isn't that strong."

"How funny," Christine said as Raoul handed her the chocolate box. "We're best friends, family and somewhat romantic at the same time."

"You feel attraction, too?"

Christine flushed midway through a bite of chocolate. "No, I was just talking about you. I… I've never felt romance before."

"Oh. Well, that's fine. You're lucky. Romance is a complicated thing!"

Christine gave the box back to Raoul, gazing at the foliage surrounding them as she thought, I've never felt romance, but what about actions? I don't mind Raoul seeing me in my underclothes, but most friends wouldn't dare to be seen like that! Come to think of it, Meg and I like to snuggle in bed. And I kiss Erik on the lips like it's nothing, Christine gasped. But those things can't be romantic! I-

"Are you okay?" Raoul asked.

Christine jerked her head to him. "Wha- Oh, yes, I'm fine," She paused before asking, "How do you know when you're... more than just friends?"

Raoul's ears turned pink. "Are you talking about us?"

"Sort of. Casually undressing in front of each other doesn't seem like something friends do."

"My navy pals and I did that all the time. Once you've known someone for a while, you become more comfortable around them."

"So it's not romantic? And neither is hugging in bed or kissing someone on the lips?"

Raoul ate a chocolate. "Not unless you make it."

I don't feel romance, I don't do it… Christine disappointedly bit into a chocolate. All I can do is dimly understand it.

...

 A while later, Raoul was singing a love song while Erik played the piano. Raoul's voice was off-key, but he looked so sincere that Christine didn't mind.

Raoul finished singing and told her, "That was my bonus Valentine's gift to you!" Then he said to Erik, "Thanks for the instrumental."

Erik gave a sly smile. "This is definitely the best way to be a third wheel."

"Bravo, brava!" Christine cheered. "Where did it come from?"

"From a guy in Flanders during my navy days. I told him that it reminded me of you and he gave a copy to take home to my love."

Christine put a hand on her heart. "Aww, how sweet!"

"Now it's time for my Valentine's Day gift," Erik said, swiftly rising from his piano. "That's your cue to leave."

Raoul playfully rolled his eyes before giving Christine a hug. "See you later."

Christine smiled at his slight ocean scent and pulled away. "See you later!"

Once he left, Christine said, "Here's your gift."

She gave him a little box containing some dark chocolates and a card. Underneath playing cards in the shape of a heart were the words, 'You're the queen of my heart'.

Erik laughed. "Cards on a card! How clever," He set the gifts on his table before shyly asking, "A- Are you ready to see your gift?"

"Oui!" Christine replied with a nod.

Erik went into the kitchen and came out with three big bouquets of roses. He even wore a rose flower crown!

"Oh!" Christine breathed. "How wonderful!"

Erik gave a triumphant smirk. "And all the other guy got was 'sweet'."

Christine was given the many roses, which were hard to hold. "This is quite a handful!"

"Only the best for my angel. Nadir forced me to go to the flower shop and buy them. I was so nervous that I forgot what a bouquet was!" Erik sat on the bed, fiddling with his cape as he said, "I- I hope you like them."

"I love them! They'll go perfectly with Raoul's chrysanthemums and Meg's decoration," Christine set the roses on the table, looking at them for a few moments before quietly asking, "What does love feel like? Romantic love, I mean."

"Oh, it's wonderful," Erik replied with a smile. "Strange feelings take over and I can't stop thinking about you. It's overwhelming, really. Quite frightening. Terrifyingly invasive."

Maybe it's good to not feel romance! Christine thought in surprise.

"And yet, it's the most amazing feeling in the world."

"But what does it feel like?" Christine asked, making Erik confused.

"You know, like feeling light and happy."

"Ah, the physical feeling. Well..." Erik tried to think of a way to describe it, but came up blank. "Here, kiss me passionately. That'll do the trick."

Christine wasn't sure about the passionate part, but she readily kissed Erik on the lips after joining him on the bed. He smiled, a look of dreamy bliss on his face as she pulled away.

"Quick, describe what you're feeling!" Christine told him.

"My heart feels light... and my hands are starting to tingle. Mmm, it feels like a pleasant tickle."

"It feels like the rush of satisfaction you get after belting out an aria on stage." Christine guessed.

"Oh, it's even better than that! What does the kiss feel like for you?"

Christine looked down at her lap. "...I feel nothing."

Erik snapped out of his dreamy state. "What?"

"I take that back, I feel a little happy. But I don't feel what you're describing," Christine looked at Erik. "What does attraction feel like?"

"Kind of like love. Except your heart aches a little and your face feels hot. I think about how pretty you are and-" Erik giggled. "Well, it makes me so giddy! You face is so cute and your voice is so beautiful and you're the most adorable person in the world-"

Christine's face burned with a blush as she thought, At least I know what flattery feels like!

"Okay, thank you for the compliments, but we need to get back on track. Name one thing that's attractive about me."

"Um... I don't know..." Erik chuckled bashfully. "Your lips."

Christine absentmindedly licked her lips. "And what makes them attractive?"

"I don't know!" Erik exclaimed, looking away with a bright pink blush. "Seriously, I really don't know why some things about you are attractive. They just are. That's how romance is. You don't know why it gives you these feelings, it just does."

"Well, that doesn't help me!"

"With what?"

"With..." Christine gave heavy sigh. "With love research."

Erik frowned. "Love research?"

"I'm trying to make sense of it all, but... it's awfully hard to understand since I've never experienced it."

"Oh, is that why you've been acting like a questionnaire?"

"Oui. I've heard so much about romance, but it's hard to truly feel it."

"Well, I didn't feel any attraction until we really got to know each other, so maybe you just need to find the right person. ...Which isn't me, I guess."

"No... I know I'll never feel it," Christine said, her voice breaking slightly. "Because I'm broken."

"Broken?" Erik repeated as she turned away from him. "No, you're not-"

"Everyone can feel and understand romance except for me!" Christine looked down at her lap. "I don't love you as you love me. I don't love anyone like that. I like reading romance stories, but when I try to understand it…" She felt her voice choke up. "I can't. There's a wall of fog preventing me from seeing it clearly," She sniffled. "And it'll never go away."

Christine buried her head in her hands before sinking down onto the bed. She wept into Erik's comforter.

"Oh, Christine…" Erik said softly. "I… I don't know what to say. I'd say 'it's okay', but I know it isn't for you. A- And I like feeling romance despite the terror, so it's not okay for me."

Christine raised her head a little. "That's fine," She sat up with a sniffle and wiped her eyes with the side of her hand. "On one hand, I'm relieved to not feel it. It's complicated and a little scary. And I could never stick with one person. But on the other hand, if I can never understand…" More tears welled up in her eyes. "Does that mean there's something wrong with me?"

"No! There's nothing wrong with you!" Erik exclaimed while wrapping his cape around her. "Plenty of people don't feel romance. I- I mean, I've never heard of it lasting forever, but it could happen," He looked out the window for a few moments in thought. "I think I know why you're like this."

Christine looked up at Erik. "Why?"

"Well… there's this thing called asexual, which is the absence of the disgusting deed. I definitely don't understand that horrible practice," Erik said with a shudder. "I call myself asexual because of it. You don't understand romance, so…"

"So maybe I'm aromantic!" Christine realized. "And asexual. That explains so much!"

Erik chuckled. "Yes!" He used his fingernail to wipe the tears away from Christine's cheek. "You're not broken, Christine. You're just a little different. A- And while that can seem bad at times…" He smiled. "It makes you unique."

Christine smiled back. "I suppose you should know that better than anyone else."

Erik lightly stroked his mask while saying, "Well, I still view my differences as ostracizing, but I'm getting better at it. I learned that from you."

Christine blushed. She wiped the rest of her tears away and took a deep breath as she rose from the bed. She slowly walked over to the many bouquets of roses as a vision came to mind.

Little ghost versions of Christine and Erik floated beside each other as red hearts danced around them. But just as the ghosties were about to kiss, a wall of fog appeared in between them.

Just then, Ghost Christine was crushed by a magnet! Ghost Erik struggled a bit while freeing her. Once he did, everything around the ghosties faded. They hugged before contently floating away, yellow hearts surrounding them.

"I'm aromantic," Christine declared before striding towards the flowers. "I can't feel romance, but that's okay with me. I'm perfectly fine with platonic love," She inhaled the roses' sweet scent. "Besides, there are much better things to do than fret about romance."

She gave a soft giggle as Ghost Christine nuzzled her cheek.

"Indeed there are," Erik agreed. "But if you're aromantic, why do you kiss me?"

Christine turned to look at him. "I like the physical feeling. You know, the soft hug of our lips," she replied, making Erik chuckle with a wide smile. "If I kissed Meg or Raoul on the lips, it would be weird. But with you… I really don't mind it. I suppose that's weird in itself."

Erik sighed. "What a queer platonic relationship we have."

Christine glanced at her ghostie before saying, “You know… That’s the perfect way to describe us. We’re platonic, yet people would find our kissing and closeness a little strange. Or, queer, I should say. But it's a good kind of queer.”

“Yes! Little Miss Meg is your sister best friend, Raoul is your dearest best friend and I’m your queer best friend,” Erik laughed. “As if I wasn’t already!”

Christine crouched down and said, "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Then she gave Erik a kiss. The ghosties watched with heartwarming smiles before doing the same.

Christine had learned a lot about romance in the past day. It was a powerful type of love that struck people like Cupid firing an arrow. It gave its targets overwhelming feelings of bliss, took hold of them in frightening ways at certain times and made their world seem new. She would never fully know its power… And that was alright with her. Christine was happy with being an aromantic enjoyer of romance stories and love songs. Her friends were the truest love of all!

[in-the-nighttime]

ok ok ok. nsfw headcanons for hitler and/or heydrich pls. thank u.

oomf i am your humble squire

- okay no lie i feel zero attraction to mr big h himself but this will not stop me. my mind wanders and i will not let it be caged

- big obvious one is that he was a Freak, even in a universe where all the dirt on his sex life really was a smear campaign, it takes a pervert to establish a regime i really believe this. Hitler would be so into the breeding thing duh.

- especially during the height of his power i think honestly he would just barely even try during sex because he knows the power imbalance is Sooo crazy tipped in his favor, his partner would 100% be doing all of the work. however when he was just a starving artist he would be Grabbing, biting, yanking, screeching, howling, going at it like he’s at gunpoint, etc.

- I’m so sorry but i think hitlers dick was probably the most average in the reich. like an exact 5.6 inches.

- rambles on during any type of intercourse and doesn’t stop can’t be interrupted by anything he’s just mumbling through it all. Or yelling.

- okay Heydrich time, who i will have way more things to say about because i’ve wanted him to crush me like a tin can for at least a year

- personally i think of heydrich as the worlds most devious bisexual who is a loving, doting husband when it comes to having sex with women, but he would be completely selfish and rough and mean when it comes to men. of course there’s going to be a little overlap as he gets more and more into it. but generally he would treat women in a normal (as normal as a sociopathic war criminal could be) and romantic way, maybe a little condescending at times but only to dissolve any tension. little to no animosity unless his partner specifically asks for something a little rougher. however, when it comes to men, he is so pissed off that he even wants to fuck a man in the first place that he’s always ready to hold whoever that guy is down and mutter insults in his hair, and treat him with little to no respect

- honestly i forget if he smoked or not but i always like imagining him smoking before, after and during sex. and maybe using his partner as an ashtray, or making them light his cigarettes/cigars. also, would be very happy to see his partner make him a drink. he would be so into using his power to make people do little kind of humiliating acts of service that only benefit him, and are also lavish

- i think he’d be so into the whole service power dynamic thing. Ahem ahem nudge nudge he would get a real kick out of making one of his superiors do things for him ahem cough cough. i’m sorry but he’s cheating with every secretary he sees

- would be really bad at giving oral, which is like, cemented in my mind from past headcanons posted on reichblr that got nuked (RIP procksi original headcanon posts fuck my life i requested far too many of them). i think this is weirdly attractive, like he’s so selfish that he’s only giving oral to get his partner ready. he’s like rushing through it and a little annoyed. that’s dreamy

- I think his dick was big i’m sorry. Look at him.

- also another guy SUPERRR into keeping that uniform on. sighs dreamily

- he would act like he thinks he’s the total perfect aryan specimen and he would absolutely Need you to do something about it. i refuse to believe there was ever any sex with heydrich where he didn’t need his ego stroked. you’re gonna have to compliment him, be so happy about everything he does to you, etc. or else he’s going to be bad at sex on purpose

- finally, i think he would be really good at fingering xoxo

[songofsoma]

all you need is love (and salt)

happy valentine's day!!!! <33

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles pairing: ava du mortain x f!detective (cecilia beck) words:  rating: general

read it on ao3

She had circled the date multiple times in red ink on her little desk calendar. February 14th, a momentous holiday for lovers and to her, for the last nine-hundred-something years, an ordinary Tuesday or whatever day it happened to fall on.

Ava drummed her fingers on the surface of her desk. The only time she had even realized Valentine’s Day had come and passed was when Farah came back with bags full of half-priced candy that she swore would last her until candy went on sale again after Easter—it never did.  

That prospect on the so-called holiday changed once Ava landed herself something she had thought she wouldn’t have to worry about. A girlfriend. And just her luck, it happened to be a girlfriend who adored Valentine’s Day. 

Since the end of January, Cecilia’s apartment had been full of vases of flowers and various heart-shaped decorations. Ava swore she decorated more for this than Christmas which was saying a lot. For a virtually unimportant holiday, the woman even had heart-shaped plates in various shades of reds and pinks she had Ava help her bring from storage so she could use over February.

“I just love Valentine’s Day,” Cecilia sighed dreamily as she replaced her normal plates with the festive ones. “I think it’s my favorite. I just love love.”

From that moment, Ava knew she was in trouble. 

“You’re still worried about this?” Farah chided as she followed Nat into the room who at least had the decency to knock before entering. 

Ava turned in her chair, annoyed at the invasion of her bedroom. She thought that maybe she might find some privacy in her personal space, but clearly, that wasn’t the case.

Nat’s help had been enlisted before in the matter of what to do about Valentine’s Day. She was the one that had actually dated people over the years and was more knowledgeable about human traditions. Ava always thought of being interested in the human world had the equivalent of watching a couple of ants interact. Unimportant and fleeting given how short mortal lives tended to be. Then she just had to go and fall in love with a human so now she begrudgingly knows things like who Doja Cat is and that teenagers no longer aspire to be doctors but instead want to blow up on the Tiktok. She still wasn’t exactly sure how shaking one’s posterior meant getting rich, but that was neither here nor there. 

“Yes,” she growled, angrily scrolling through an article titled 50 Valentine Gifts for Her. Ava should’ve clicked off upon seeing the first thing on the list which was matching His and Hers shirts. “Excuse me for trying to give my girlfriend the perfect Valentine’s Day.”

Farah plopped down on the edge of Ava’s bed. “Why are you looking at sites meant for middle-aged men? You think you’re going to find your answer there?”

“At least it’s a start,” Nat tried to add to quench Ava’s visible annoyance. 

Ava slammed her laptop shut, burying her face in her hands to muffle a groan. “This is ridiculous. Human holidays are absurd.”

“You just hate fun,” Farah teased, picking at the end of a bright purple nail. 

“Why don’t you just ask Cecilia what she wants?” Nat asked, resting a hand on the back of her desk chair.

“Because then she knows that I’m clueless and terrible at this!”

Nat pursed her lips. “What are her favorite flowers?”

“Lilies!” Farah yelled before Ava had a chance to answer. “And you should get one of those stuffed bears that are like huge!” She jumped back onto her feet to show them both about how tall the bear was. “You know, with a card that says I’m sorry I suck at being romantic. Here’s a giant bear. I love you, Cecilia.” Farah then proceeded to turn her back and make kissing noises, her arms wrapping around herself and hands groping her back. 

Nat wrinkled her nose before turning her back to Farah, stepping in front of Ava’s line of sight of her. “What Farah is trying to say is get Cecilia her favorite flowers, maybe put them in a nice vase to match her stuff. Why don’t you two do something together? Cook her favorite meal or take her to a museum.”

“No!” Farah cried from behind them. 

Ava looked down at her sheet of ideas and ran a hand over her hair, the loose ends tickling the skin exposed by her tank top. “I can cook.”

Farah groaned in despair while Nat smiled cheerfully. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

When Cecilia opened the door to her apartment, she was immediately hit with the smell of fish. 

She covered her nose with the sleeve of her sweater as she blinked in confusion. It wasn’t that she didn’t like fish, it was just that she wasn’t expecting it. She hadn’t bought any type of fish in ages because of the way it stinks up her little apartment and having little windows that barely opened made the task of ridding the stench even harder. 

“Hello?” she called out in confusion, dropping her purse before venturing further into the apartment. There were only a few people who had spare keys to her apartment so the options on who it was were limited. But the last thing she ever expected to find was Ava du Mortain in her kitchen cooking. 

It accounted for the fishy smell as the sound of salmon sizzling in a pan filled the space of the kitchen as she stood in the doorway. Ava clearly hadn’t heard her come in, which was unusual. Normally, she could tell where Cecilia was from outside the building. But the intense look of concentration on her face acted as an explanation. 

The entire thing was an abnormality.

Cecilia gently set the package she was holding on the counter and approached, wrapping her arms around Ava’s broad torso. “Are you my housewife now?” she teased, kissing the shoulder that didn’t have a towel slung over it.

Ava jumped a bit, startled at her appearance. She recovered quickly, turning to hold Cecilia properly. And when she did, she bent down and gave her the sweetest kiss. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love,” she murmured, her voice wonderfully low and husky.

She smiled. “You remembered!”

Blonde brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, almost sounding offended. 

Cecilia shrugged, moving to lean on the counter beside the stove. “It’s a human holiday. I know you don’t celebrate them.”

“Well,” Ava started and cupped her cheek, directing Cecilia’s gaze to the tiny round dining table where a vase of rose lilies sat. “I wanted to do it for you.”

She gasped and hurried to the table, immediately smelling the flowers before stumbling upon the card and a box of chocolates. “You got me flowers and chocolate?” she said, nearly bouncing in excitement. 

“And I wanted to cook you dinner. But there’s also something in the bedroom for you.” Cecilia raised a brow. “The bedroom?” she said haughtily. 

Ava chuckled.

She didn’t wait for an explanation before crossing the living room to stand in the doorway of her room. “Holy shit. It’s huge!”

On the bed sat a teddy bear that had to be close to her height. It was absolutely massive, nearly taking up most of her full-sized mattress. She ran her hand across its fur, noticing how soft it was, and admiring the red ribbon tied in a bow around its neck. 

When she stepped out of the bedroom and came back to the kitchen, Ava was smiling a bit shyer than normal. “It was Farah’s idea.”

Cecilia shook her head and grabbed the collar of her shirt, pulling Ava down to kiss her. “God, I love you.” She relished in the way the tips of Ava’s ears reddened. 

Dinner was soon done and Ava set her plate in front of where Cecilia sat at the table. She had really gone all out. Candles framing the bouquet as the centerpiece, and an expensive bottle of white wine the worker swore up and down complimented the salmon wonderfully. She had even made sure to dish everything out on Cecilia’s favorite holiday heart-shaped plates. 

Cecilia stole one last kiss before Ava stood up. “This looks delicious,” she commented as Ava poured her a glass of wine. 

“I hope it tastes okay,” she said, sitting across from her to pour her own glass.

“I’m sure it will.” She smiled and cut into the fish. But when she began to chew, it took everything in her to keep her face the same. Cecilia didn’t know what on earth Ava had done, but it was somehow overpoweringly fishy whilst bland at the same time. “Oh, wow. That is delicious.” She took another bite as Ava watched her expectantly.

Thankfully, she didn’t catch the lie because her shoulders relaxed and a pleased look covered her face. 

She hurriedly took a drink of her wine, hoping to chase the taste away. 

It was a battle to get through the meal but Cecilia really loved Ava and her gratitude for the attempt made trumped how truly disgusting the food was. Plus, the wine helped ease it all down and Ava seemed happy with herself.

“Oh! Before I forget!” Cecilia jumped up, running to retrieve the package that she had been hiding at the station. She handed it to Ava. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Ava looked between her and the parcel for a long second before beginning to open it. Cecilia watched excitedly as she pulled out something in a glass casing. When she flipped it over, her eyes widened. “Cecilia,” she gasped.

“I can’t get you the real thing, but I found this and thought you would like it just as much.” She stayed beside Ava to watch her marvel at the model car encased in the glass.

It was the car she had mentioned to be her “dream car.” A 1965 Jaguar in the most gorgeous shade of green. 

Ava turned to look at her wide-eyed. “You remembered?”

“Of course I did, silly.” She kissed her forehead with a giggle. “I commit everything you tell me about yourself to memory because I’m obsessed with you.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile didn’t disappear from her lips. “Come here.” Ava tugged on Cecilia’s hand to pull her onto her lap, the display car being safely sat on the table. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I am undeserving.”

Their foreheads pressed together, noses barely brushing as Cecilia smiled. “Is this a good holiday now, then?”

Ava nodded. “Most definitely. I understand it now,” she whispered before stealing Cecilia’s future words with a kiss. 

[wonda-fhr]

Hey! 🌾 for David 🌿 for Lia pretty please? :)

More snippets for the soft ask prompts. They're getting longer, I'm afraid. The idea of answering them in this way carries me away a bit. (But it's so much fun) 😅 Thanks for your ask 😘

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them. For David

"Ric, we have all these paperwork to fill out and these horrible reports to write, and we'll never get it done if you stare dreamily out the window after every other word, grinning like an idiot in love. Well, I know I'm going to regret this, but tell me what's going on now so we can get to work after this.

As soon as the conversation shifts from work, Ortega's feet land on the corner of his desk and his arms cross defiantly over his chest. "Do I have to apologize for being happy for once? But if you really want to know. We've become closer, much closer, and I'm happy about it."

"I'm happy for you too, for both of you. But are you sure he's still the same guy you fell in love with?" Instead of the expected rational conversation, the rose-tinted glasses jump back into Ric's face and turn his voice in romantic colors.

"He doesn't have to be. I'm not either. He doesn't need to be the same, as long as I know he's the one. And he's Chen."

Accepting that the paperwork will probably have to wait longer, Chen gradually puts down his pen and turns to his friend with a slight sigh. "I may have been too suspicious in the past, but I can't quite get rid of it. I still see someone with too many secrets, who is dismissive, scared and cynical, I didn't expect that this would make you happy".

"You don't know him, not really. There's a lot buried deep inside him, but the closer we get, the more of it comes to the surface. There's so much joy in him, so much empathy, caring. He takes care of me much better than he would admit in front of you, or who do you think took care of me the last time I had the flu? This time I didn't have to ask you to bring me something to eat, did I? I would have loved to stay sick longer.

Did you know how much he loves music? Probably not. You should hear him play the piano, as if he immersed himself in another world with you. That alone would be enough to captivate me forever. When we dance, it is not like in the past when we used to tease each other about who was the more gifted dancer. This is different. As soon as his hand is in mine, we become one, just flowing together and dancing. You can get lost with him in little perfect moments.

We haven't forgotten how to tease, of course, he can do it just like he used to, maybe a little more biting, but less vicious. Not as cynical as you think. It's as if we've found a balance in that as well, which makes us happy. You can have a lot of fun with him when he is in the right mood.

He's such a delicate being. So fragile. You're right, he's scared and that still paralyzes a lot of things in him. But a lightning should execute me if I do not protect him from what frightens him."

"I would feel better if we knew what he needed to be protected from."

"I don't care if it's the whole world. I'll get it done."

With hopes of a meaningful conversation about David's concerns dashed, Chen tosses a pen into Ric's lap. "Okay, wonderful, now take all your reality-free optimism and fill out these papers to make the world a better place."

-------------

🌿 What way does your OC show that they care without using words? What way do others show your OC that they’re cared about without using speech? For Lia Let's look through Luke's eyes during a conversation at lunch. He knows her a little better than the others.

"Why are you so sure you can trust her? I can understand her arguments, maybe even your cooperation. But why are you friends? She would work with me too, but I think she would hate me anyway. Why do you think she likes you?"

There is actually some concern in the Captain's otherwise confident voice. You know he doesn't trust Lia, but he trusts you, more and more since he understood that your lunch meetings are not necessary for a collaboration. The terrain of lunch is now familiar enough for him to ask you more personal questions.

"Lia is something more than a villain on the rampage, and I trust her completely. No, she doesn't go around pouring her heart out to everyone, giving them hugs, and telling them how great they are. She's not like that. There are other things that tell me that she cares about me. She never brings me the wrong coffee, she knows exactly which drink I prefer in the evening. I think she knows all my habits, but she doesn't judge any of them. She knows the names and the history of my whole family. And when I'm sad because something reminds me of my brother, she has the courage to ask me about it and relive the moment with me instead of just distracting me like my former friends would have tried to do.

We've been through a bit together now. I like to think of myself as a pretty down-to-earth person, nothing gets me upset easily. But when it does, her hand is in the small of my back before I even realize I could use some support. She protects me. Like a shield, she does it so subtly that I haven't noticed it for a long time. She walks through every door before holding it open for me. She takes a half-step in front of me when a situation becomes the least bit disturbing. But she also protects me from decisions that would weigh on my soul, she takes a lot on herself rather than leaving it to me. As a lawyer, you are used to a lot and you are never completely safe, but since she is here, I feel safer than ever.

But you know what the best part is? That almost everybody thinks like you. No one who meets her trusts her because they only see a small piece. I see much more. I am allowed to cuddle her when we are alone. Or hear her laugh and make silly jokes with her. I can even catch her when she falls. And afterwards, I get to have fun with her over stupid questions like yours that only prove you don't have the slightest idea who you're dealing with."

"Ouch, that was mean, but probably a little deserved. Maybe I should take a closer look. If I try to be less suspicious, would I also have a chance to be cuddled by you?" With a charming smile, Blaze strokes back his brown hair with its tantalizing honey sheen. The sight of him doesn't fail to have an effect on you, as the tingle in your body clearly shows, but it takes more than that to make your poker face waver. Unimpressed, you calmly look at your watch. Then you look deep into the eyes of your attractive interlocutor and send him directly onto the slippery ice with the remark, "It depends on whether two hours are enough for you."

[nahoney22]

Hello! If you’re up for it! I’d love to see your take on this scenerio for 3 of my fave men! Crosshair, Rex and Echo! (All 3 or you can pick one! ^^ ) Of them over hearing their S/O talking about them maybe with either omega or a fellow trooper. Maybe they were just passing by and heard their name mentioned

And S/O just goes practically infodumping how they make them feel. How they feel safe in their arms, referring to a sweet memory , how fast their heartbeats when they are near by. Everyday being a treasure just being with them and all that lovey dovey lol

The Way You Make Me Feel

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

All Bad Batch Boys + Rex X F!Reader

Thanks for the lovely request. Adore you. I know the request only asks for Rex, echo and crosshair but in for a penny in for a pound, let’s do all batchers ♥️

Your S/O overhears you gushing over them.

warnings: none, fluff. Reader gets unwanted attention in the Crosshair one.

Masterlist 🤍

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

☾ Echo

Echo didn’t necessarily hear you complimenting him, rather, he read it instead.

Since Omega got given her own holopad it was only right that himself and the others monitor any suspicious activities including who she messages. After all, it’s a big galaxy and she’s only young. So whenever she receives messages it goes to either one of the boys' own devices. This time, it just so happened to be his.

He was sitting in the cockpit on his own when he heard a ping and as he began to read whoever it was Omega was talking too, his cheeks grew very warm.

The two of you were gossiping about things and just having some ‘girly chat’ as Omega calls it since it’s just her and you being the only females but when he saw his name pop up he was anxious at first but then he realised he had nothing to worry about.

You’re telling Omega how you both met and that he was the most handsome man he had ever seen. Despite being part of a large Clone Army, he had always stood out before AND after the Citadel. To you, you told Omega that he has the kindest heart despite his grumpiness. He frowned that you said he was grumpy but who was he kidding?

Knowing this was the way you felt about him, he could honestly die happy.

He definitely would bring this up next time he sees you but for now, he will stop reading the messages and cherish them.

☾ Hunter

With both of you dating for a few months and happier than ever, you can’t help but quietly gush to Omega in the gunner's mount/her room.

He’s walking nearby but due to his senses he can hear the smallest of things, especially the sound of something that reminds him of a pair of giggling school girls.

“Do you not find him moody sometimes?” Omega asks you with a playful smirk.

You’re tucked uncomfortably agaisnt the windshield, legs pulled up to your chest as she sits on the seat in front of you.

He hears you laugh and he’s unsure if you’re nodding or shaking your head but he can tell by your tone that the answer could have been either.

“He’s… perfect. I’m really happy.” You sigh almost dreamily and Hunters heartbeat picks up rapidly.

Omega rolls her eyes in amusement but she was thrilled to see how happy you truly were.

He’s about to walk away, smiling to himself but then you carried on. You told her how he made you feel like the only girl in the world and how you loved the way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he laughs. Most importantly to him, you felt safe and protected. All that he could want.

He’s tempted to announce his presence but to save your gorgeous blushing for just him, he will leave it for later.

☾ Wrecker

“Where’s my girl?” Crosshair looks up at Wrecker once he approaches him in the Marauder seeming to be looking out for his significant other.

“She’s outside by the lake.” He grumbles in reply and so that is where Wrecker looked.

When he does spot you, he’s about to call out to you with big waving hands but he stops when he hears you talking. Upon closer inspection, he hears you talk to an old friend from your home planet.

Wrecker is about to turn and leave you be but when he hears his name mentioned, his curiosity is piqued. He knows better than to listen in to your conversations but judging by the smile radiating off your face, it wasn’t anything bad.

“Wrecker took me out to dinner the other day.” You chime over your commlink to your friend, twirling a bracelet around on your wrist that he had gifted you the first month of you both dating.

He can’t hear what your friend was saying clearly but when you began to say that you were the happiest you had been in the longest time he was beyond giddy and almost had to swipe a tear away from his eye.

“He’s strong, always positive, a little loud but knows his limits…” you sigh, laying your back flat on the ground and gazing up at the blue sky. “Did I say he’s also unfathomably sexy too?” You giggle and before you could hear your friend reply a looming shadow casts over you and your eyes widen as Wrecker peers down at you with a wide grin.

“Wanna say that again?”

“W-Wrecker?” Your cheeks are burning and in a second you’re being lifted up and slung over a broad shoulder. You’re squealing and laughing and try to protest as he snatches your commlink and shouts down it.

“She’s a little busy right now! She’ll talk later!”

Oh, you were in for it.

☾ Tech

Despite the fact you two had been dating for a short while, Tech was never one to express his feelings emotionally. This also meant that you tried to keep your deep feelings for him at bay, not wanting to overstep.

But, you had to tell someone.

You ventured out into the village with Echo whilst he handled repairs back on the Havoc when his a transmission is being patched through. He mumbled something incoherent and slides out from under the control panel but his frown is soon replaced when he sees your name.

“May I be of your assistance?” He calls out but there’s no reply aside from some crackling and the sound of rustling. He signs and shakes his head. This isn’t the first time you had accidentally contacted him unknowingly with your device in your pocket and he had somewhat gave you a loving lecture about it.

His hand reaches to stop it but then he freezes at he hears his name being mentioned. It’s muffled and difficult to decipher and he knows he shouldn’t but he starts to adjust the frequency wave instead.

When it’s clear enough, he sits down and hunches forward with his hands clasped together, knee bouncing in slight angst. He knew he wasn’t the idea boyfriend and he just hoped his fears weren’t confirmed. To which, they indeed weren’t.

“…. I just feel alive when I’m with him.”

Echo is chuckling beside you, asking you about Tech and you and he had wished Echo would mind his own business nut at the same time… he’s interested in what else you had to say.

“I could listen to him for days, I look forward waking up and just being near Tech. True, I wish we would be more affectionate to each other but I don’t mind. I… I think I love him, y’know?”

Tech’s eyes widen at your admission and he feels like he could run outside the Havoc and scream his lungs out in pure happiness that he found someone who loves him.

He’s holding his breath, so tempted to try and grab your attention but why should he? You’ll be on your way back and he would be more than willing to give you his utmost attention

☾ Crosshair

“You’re with him?”

You’re at a bar and it was your turn to grab the next round of drinks for yourself and fellow Batchers. As you wait at the bar, a citizen came up to you, dripping in wealth and already tried to take a pass at you.

Thankfully, you were taken by none other than the Marksman himself.

When you told him that you were taken, he scoffed and asked for the whereabouts of said partner. So when you nod to the table of enhanced clones and point at the one with a face of thunder, he was bewildered.

“Yeah, what of it?” You bite back, not liking the snobbiness of his judging tone as he looked between the two of you. You don’t think Crosshair had noticed as he wasn’t looking at you and you were kind of glad at the matter. Last thing you needed was Crosshair to get agitated over some guy hitting on you.

The man didn’t know there was a fire of passion in you as you’re ready to defend Crosshair no matter what and he’s almost impressed. Until he smirks. “Is he a Clone?”

“Yes.” You bite on your tongue to refrain from just snapping at him and telling him to leave you alone but you didn’t want to cause a scene. So you bit down your anger until he says:

“Why have a Clone when you can have a rich and successful defence lawyer like me pretty lady?”

“Because unlike you, he doesn’t need body guards or anyone to serve for him hand and foot. Unlike you, I know that he will protect from anything and everything no matter the situation. You say you’re rich and successful yet here you are in one of the dingiest bars on the whole of Coruscant. To me, it looks like life isn’t treating you so ‘successfully’ as you said.”

He’s blinking rapidly, offended and has a growing anger brewing inside him but before he can retaliate, you lecture on.

“I don’t need a rich person. I don’t need money. What I need and what I have is someone I care about and vice versa. Now, please do me the honours of getting out of my face.”

Then, you turn back to do the bar and tjank the bartender as he hands you a tray of all the drinks you had ordered. When you turned back around, the man was gone. But, in the corner of your eye you see Crosshair.

He was on the other side of the bar, chewing on a toothpick and smirking gloriously at you. You’re flustered, a little embarrassed that he watched what happened. He approaches, takes the tray from your hands and places it back on the bar.

“You sure ripped him a new one.” He nods impressively, sliding his hand to your waist out of comfort and affection.

“Sorry you had to hear all that.”

“Don’t be. Made me feel…” he trails off, suddenly finding himself become a little shy but he swallows down his pride, “good. Great, in fact. I wanna hear you praise me like that again.” He grins and waggles his eyebrows playfully at you.

☾ Rex

Dating in the 501st was tough. Not only did he have to keep it on the low in fears of his Generals and other Jedi finding out but then there’s his brothers. The whole lot of them.

With constant teasing and relentless prying into his and your personal lives he’s half tempted to transfer to a different squad. Maybe the 212th would be less problematic…

“Go on, please tell us.”

He halts his stride around the hangar, his attention drawing on Kix and Jesse and more importantly, you.

He’s ready to walk over and ask what was going on as causally as he could but when he heard you mention his name, he halts and ducks behind some weapon crates and earwigs.

“Rex is sweet. I don’t know why you guys are asking me this.” You fold your arms over your chest. You both tried to keep your relationship private but some troopers are impossibly nosey and won’t stop pestering you. So obviosuly, they found out yous were dating.

“Because we wanna know why him, out of any of us handsome gentlemen?” Jesse smirks, clearly teasing but you did blush.

“He’s different.” You state.

“Why, because he’s blonde?” Kix laughs and you can only roll your eyes.

“Well, physically he has different attributes sure but he just understands me.”

Jesse smiles a little before beginning to tease you in a mock impression. “Lil lady’s in loooooove.”

“Maybe.”

Kix stops laughing and Jesse’s gaze is now more intense.

Rex however felt like he was about to pass out. There had been no ‘I love yous’ yet but to hear you tell his brothers that you may or may not be in love with him was making his heart soar. He’s grinning like a wild loth-cat and he feels his skin grow warm and tingly.

You then proceed to tell them about a sweet memory, how he quite literally swept you off your feet once when he bumped into you. “He said it was an accident but Fives told me otherwise. I think he may have wanted to talk to me for a while so Fives gave him that extra push.”

Rex sits and thinks back to that time, only a few months ago and he smiles fondly. He’ll always love Fives for that because that was the first time the two of you spoke and clearly hit it off ever since.

He watches you all part ways after you enthused more about him and the second he sees you alone, he is marching up to you. And right now, he didn’t care if anyone saw but he spun you to face him and before you could say his name, his lips descended upon yours.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Masterlist

tags: @twistedstitcher27 @teletraan-meets-jarvis @jennamelinda12 @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart t @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @adriiibell @theroguesully @equalityforcats @rexandechosandwich @mustluvecho @the-good-shittt @inagalaxywickedfahaway @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @sadspring @chxpsi @alexandrisonfire @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @salaminus @by-the-primes @torchbearerkyle e @tech-aficionado @in-the-crosshairs @therealnekomari @a-c-lee @autumnleaves1991-blog g @tech-depression-inventory @mylifeinthetardisforever @brynhildrmimi i @greaser-wolf @lucyysthings @agenteliix @fiveshelmet @photogirl894 @buddee @s1st3r @cosmic-persephone @imalovernotahater

[anika-ann]

I swear I thought I responded to this? 😭😭I'm sorry! There is NOTHING annoying and EVERYTHING precious about your support and I was delighted to be a part of your challenge 😍

You are so kind! If means the world to me that you think so highly of my work and I'm really happy you enjoyed this fic, that it made you smile and maybe laugh and maybe sigh dreamily over our resident Mr. Perfect 🥺

Thank you so much for your kind words and for hosting the challenge in the first place 💕😍😘

Restless Hearts - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, next-to-zero plot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 6,2k

Summary: Moving in together with Steve is the dream come true – or it should have been. You didn't exactly have the chance to benefit from that since he shipped off to a mission for days and is only now coming back.

You grow restless. And to make it worse, you only get to reunite with him on this stupid pompous party instead of your home. Well. Just few more hours of socializing to survive.

You could handle that, right?

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, semi-public sex if you squint, unprotected sex, language, Steve being a menace, two idiots in love who can't keep their hands off of each other

A/N: written for the Smutty September Fest hosted by @mercurial-chuckles . Thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to f* and quickie where you don’t take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials 🤭

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Sparkling lights. Sparkling drinks. Elegant gowns and sharp suits. Subtle polite laughter and conversation occasionally interrupted by a louder exclamation and a genuine burst of laughter from the groups forming around those who knew how to charm a crowd. A non-descript music, one song bleeding into another, a few couples trying to find space on the dancefloor that had mostly changed into an agora, a space for conversation rather than for moving in well-practiced sync.

The dress skirt brushing over your knees and ankles, a slight chill on the back of your neck as someone opened the balcony doors, letting in fresh April air of New York City. The light stink of alcohol and sweat amongst the hundreds of expensive perfumes and colognes. The rich aftertaste of the sting of bubbles, sweet and spicy on your tongue.

The golden lights shone bright but intimate, reflecting in your champagne glass and prompting you to finish your first – and likely one of the lasts – drink of the night.

You weren’t much of a drinker. You indulged every once in a while, more of curiosity about what fancy brand the host had chosen for the occasion and a thing of courtesy, using the glass like a required social prop.

Such was the case tonight too – a fancy evening for investors and associates of the Earth’s mightiest heroes. Politicians, diplomats, government officials, high-ranking military officials and filthy-rich entrepreneurs – mostly not your crowd, to speak plainly. There was a slightly better company too, even if scarce: former agents and other colleagues – well-vetted beforehand, of course – scientists, non-profit representatives, veterans. Several Avengers too, of course.

But your favourite – the one who had brought you deeper into the world of superheroes – was yet to be found.  

Steve Rogers most definitely was your favourite; nearly flawless moral compass, loyal, protective of the less fortunate ones and his own. A fighter who had won and lost all too much; an artist, who saw beauty around him nevertheless. A kind soul with an enormous heart, perhaps a tad too big for his own body despite his impressive physique. Larger than life and yet somehow humble enough in his insistence that he was just a man, ordinary, like most; just lucky enough to had been given a chance to fight and to defend.

And to love.

Steve Rogers certainly was your favourite, as he should be; the goodness of the world distilled into one man, with a face and a body of worth of being sculpted by the masters of ancient arts, the warmest smile and a sparkle to his eye a testimony to his brilliant mind and wicked humour. All that at your fingertips; all that supposedly yours, as incredible as it seemed at most times.

He was yours.

Your boyfriend of four months and seventeen days.

Not that you had been counting; perhaps just a little. You were innocent in the matter, however; it was mostly your and Steve’s friends, teasing you about taking things slow. According to Bucky, had you been taking things at Steve’s desired pace, with how smitten he apparently was, he would have already had a ring on your finger.

You didn’t dare to judge, afraid of raising your hopes a little too much; however, there was something to be said about Steve Rogers in love. He made it clear; so painfully and blissfully clear, letting you feel his much-reciprocated adoration in hundreds if not thousands of little moments.

In his touch. In his words. In his actions.

Your demanding jobs perhaps did slow down your progress a bit, making even the settling on a day of your first date quite the feat; but it was one of those good things that made the waiting worth it.

If Steve was smitten, so were you; and while a proposal would feel rather rash, you certainly not at all thinking about how you’d probably say yes anyway, because you simply knew, you’d settle for moving in together.

You had moved in together, thirteen days ago.

And the move in that had left you with half-unpacked boxes, cold bed and an apartment lacking the true aura of a home, because the person you wished to build it with was godknowswhere in a middle of Siberia, having left after a passionate welcome-to-our-new-home and a message delivered at three damn forty a.m.

Steve had left the pleasant warmth of your bed at four, with a profound sleepy apology and a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Left for an off-grid no-contact mission. Lasting for days.

For all the faith you had in his skill and strength, the worry that came with him being away for so long without as much of a short text was eating at you; and then there was the matter of simply missing him, the empty feeling only accentuated by having expected to be nearer to him at last and getting this instead. You were an independent woman and you could live your life without a man just fine, but goddamn were you also a woman madly in love, missing your boyfriend.

And you were growing impatient.

You were still at your first drink, yes, but knowing Steve should appear at any moment did not help calm your nerves, the slightly uncomfortable but exciting swirl of anticipation of seeing him again – in a suit no less – as intense as the yearning for comfort of actually seeing for yourself that he was safe and sound.

He had texted you, at last, about four hours ago, that he was on his way, nothing but a couple of bruises already healing, looking forward to seeing you.

You had agreed to meet at the venue; he would be running last minute, or perhaps even fashionably late, grabbing a quick shower and a shave at his at-hand quarters at the Tower, just throwing on a suit he kept there for such occasions. You had offered to help – for the completely selfish reason of seeing him sooner and in private instead of in front of hundreds of watchful curious eyes – but he had sweetly refused, argumenting that at least one of you should be on time and promising he would find you first thing upon his arrival.

You would have grumbled if you hadn’t been soothed by the Love you, can’t wait to hold you again, he had texted after. He was a charming loveable bastard like that.

As the infamous murmur of excitement arose around you, bringing you back to the present, your eyes easily found the source of the commotion: Steve Rogers himself.

Your heart rate accelerating reminded you that not being able to meet Steve before the event might have been a blessing. Had you had the chance to get your hands on him, you two would probably end up being very much unfashionably late; a welcome home kiss would have simply not sufficed.

He was breathtaking.

The traditional black suit with navy blue glint was fitted for certain; tight where it should be, accentuating Steve’s absurdly broad shoulders and thin waist, pants no doubt hugging all the right places from behind somehow complimenting his long muscular legs too, pristine white shirt with a bowtie matching the suit; the soft blue reflection emphasized the colour of his eyes as they scanned the room without ever stopping his progress, his polite smile spreading wide when his gaze found yours, the blue of his irises turning warmer; the most beautiful feature to his face battling the magnificence of his sharply cut jaw.

The instant relief washing over you screamed of how anxious you had actually been before you had seen him alive and well; the warmth spreading through your veins whispered of comfort, a tidal wave of feeling at home after a long travel; the heat curling in your belly and sending sparkles through every nerve ending reminded you that your body had been missing him in all different ways.

Your gaze zeroed on his every step. He seemed to move too slow and too fast at once; and suddenly he was standing in front of you, one hand gently grasping yours, the other lightly laying on your waist, a chaste kiss to your temple lingering as your body naturally sought his and carefully leaned into his entirely publicly appropriate greeting. The familiar woodsy notes of his cologne and aftershave had your heartbeat pick up and instinctively move closer into his embrace and breathing in deeply, the scent going straight to your head; but following his lead, you didn’t get too close, letting the gentle timbre of his voice soothe your need for connection instead.

At last; he was home. He was here, with you, and his love, while contained in socially acceptable gestures, seemed to draw a protective circle around your pair, shining brighter and warmer than the lights and all the luxuries around combined.

“Hey sweetheart. It’s so good to see you,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek this time, his eyes lit alive as he retreated, a hint of a smile still playing in the corner of his lips. “And you are absolutely stunning. Almost tripped over my feet the moment I set my eyes on you.”

Resisting the urge to tenderly slap his side at the exaggeration, at making your face burn hot – and something inside you purr with satisfaction since you had chosen your outfit with care, much like your makeup and hairdo – you gathered your composure, straightening your posture and charming a smile for him in return.

In one of many late-night conversations, when he had revealed his artistic side to you, he had admitted he loved to feast his eyes on all kinds of art from the most ordinary ones to the rarest; you had understood then that while a fighter and just a man in his core, his soul was a thing seeking beauty and goodness everywhere. In both things and people. A doodle could make him smile and hum in delight as much as a painting or a sculpture, he had said shyly; a building, an arrangement of flowers, a beautiful dress too. The last one, however, he had appreciated most on a woman as bewitching as yourself, he had told you, a tender finger on your jaw, a glint of dark mischief in his eye, lips slanting over yours and stealing your breath in a matter of a second; proving he was appreciative of you just as much when you were wearing nothing at all.

This time, however, you liked to believe he enjoyed the sight of you in the dress indeed; the top was hugging your curves like a second skin, the dark crimson fabric bled into a breeze-light skirt, shorter at the front, longer at the back, offering a less-than-scandalous but still teasing peek of your legs and clear view of your matching heels.

“It’s really good to see you too, love. And you look quite handsome yourself… I nearly dropped my drink upon seeing you,” you reciprocated with a small smirk, pointedly finishing your drink at last, heat flaring in your core when you caught Steve’s gaze lingering on your lips as they barely touched the edge of the glass, not leaving an imprint despite the dangerously red colour of your lipstick.

As you set your glass on the nearest table, you took a satisfactory note of Steve’s gaze flickering even lower, and bit back a smile.

As high as the neckline of your dress was, actually reaching half-up your throat and barely but chastely covering your shoulders, the oval-shaped cut stretching from between your collarbones down over your sternum was a rather intentional trap.

And your Captain had fallen right into it, his Adam’s apple bobbing before his gaze snapped back to your face, pupils wider, irises having gained just a tad darker shade. The fresh surge of confidence was almost as intense as the swoop of desire in your lower belly, sending your thoughts spiralling far away from a behaviour socially acceptable at an event like this.

It made you want to abandon the event and let it sort itself even if Steve had just barely arrived.

Who cared anyway? Steve deserved a proper rest after a taxing mission; rest and more, whatever his heart desired. And maybe not only his heart; if you were honest with yourself, you were only a hot-blooded human being like the rest of the world and were looking forward to truly greeting Steve home in all the ways imaginable.

You could control yourself in the public, of course, and you genuinely understood the importance of networking. But you should bring up simply taking Steve home for his own good; and you could profit from it all the same. From his proximity, from the privacy of your home, from getting your hands on the insanely handsome man’s body.

Whether he sensed the sparkles in the air you weren’t sure; but he leaned towards your face, his voice dripping slow and rich like honey from his lips brushing your ear, sinful despite the words being perfectly innocent.

“It works well then, honey.” He offered you his elbow, straightening his posture as if he was so damn proud to show off what kind of a woman he had on his arm. “Let’s go fulfil our duty of mingling so we can excuse ourselves as soon as possible.”

With his last words carrying alluring notes of an intimate promise, you conceded.

Nodding, you arranged your face in a polite smile, crafted to nonchalant perfection.

“Let’s go mingle indeed.”

Indeed, let’s work so we can sneak away and go home as soon as possible.

Your plan had gone a little awry.

In the glow of delight at Steve’s arrival, you had underestimated the number of people who found it their crucial mission to meet and greet and catch up with Captain America.

You had kept up the pleasant façade through all the conversations, nodding and chuckling politely when the situation called for it; but you were growing weary and you could feel tension gradually building in Steve’s shoulders as well, the way you remained connected by at least an inch of a touch at all times permitting you to observe the change.

You had thought it would help when you subtly nodded towards the dance floor; his smile turned much more genuine as he asked you for a dance, earning your pair a breather and a moment of shared intimacy for a few songs.

But you had been wrong in your strategy; if it were possible, Steve’s jaw appeared locked even tighter than before once your reprieve was deemed to last too long and you agreed to return to socializing. His touch grew into a hold; at moments, it was but a grip, until you felt him forcefully relax and ease the pressure.

You didn’t blame him one bit.

He must have been exhausted; away from home for so long, physically and mentally drained after an intense, albeit successful mission, forced to put on a mask for everyone else’s benefit, because Steve Rogers, to a point, was a poster boy. As much as he was trying to change that, working on allowing himself to show and accept his humanity, he remained the embodiment of a hero who never gave up and raised others on his own shoulders despite scratching the bottom of the barrel of his own energy.

He remained cordial and polite and a gentleman; he offered to get you a drink as you excused yourself to the bathroom, returning only to find him – visibly annoyed, for once – trapped in a conversation with Tony. A conversation which was probably not at all important, but apparently couldn’t wait, at least in Tony’s mind.  

“Such a charming woman, standing here all by herself. How is that even possible?” questioned a voice from your left just as you pondered rescuing your boyfriend, causing you to waver.

It was a very male voice. An unfamiliar voice.

And had it been Clint or Sam or Bucky, you’d laugh at the poor line, which would no doubt be told with a drop of teasing; or in Thor’s case, entirely genuine and fitting to Asgardian but not Midgardian ways. Hearing it from a stranger, though, that made you want to roll your eyes.

You were a strong soldier of God so to speak, however; you turned to the source of the voice with a smile with just a slightly sharp edge – one the tall lanky man was oblivious to, as it turned out – and greeted him with a measured Sir.

As he introduced himself, you learned that Mr. Doctor Bowers PhD. might have had two PhDs but none of them was in taking a goddamn hint. Because now you were sort-of trapped much like Steve was, the written and unwritten rules of courtesy not permitting you to make up an excuse of needing to go to the bathroom after you had clearly just come back.

You counted seconds, pondering how soon you could leave the man behind without appearing too rude. You got to a hundred when your patience truly was wearing thin.

He was still not taking any of the hints you had dropped. Worse, even. You weren’t presumptuous enough – unlike some people in the mostly one-sided conversation – to imagine the flirting. He was clearly attempting to flirt and was failing miserably. He was shameless about it too, even if a little condescending.

Ninety-four seconds later, you had enough of him and far too little of Steve; your skin seemed to be already burning where Steve had last touched you, yearning for the contact to return in a perhaps clingy, but entirely honest way.

And suddenly, as if some miracle provided by Asgardian magic, the touch was back.

Steve’s arm was curling around your waist, his side pressing to your hip, his lips making a gentle – and strangely electric – contact with your hairline.

“I’m sorry about the hold-up, sweetheart. Who’s your… friend?”

It was a little funny, really. The man matched Steve in height, but at the biting note in Steve’s voice, he shrank at least a foot and a half.

He introduced himself after clearing his throat, maintaining the remnants of his composure which all of sudden carried no hint of the wannabe seducer. You wanted to kiss Steve right on the lips right there for that alone.

Mr. Doctor PhD also probably regretted extending his hand for Steve to shake; because at Steve’s grip, no doubt stronger than necessary despite his entirely nonchalant mask of politeness, he actually winced.

You were no supporter of violence, much like Steve, which might seem ironic to some given his profession – but the lick of heat at seeing Steve put the guy into back into his place sent a shudder of undiluted want down your spine and straight into your core, your posture involuntarily shifting in response. Steve’s hold on you tightened.

“I have to talk to my girlfriend now, if you excuse us. See you around,” Steve said, already spinning you towards the exit to drive his point to the end.

You didn’t resist.

If anything, you couldn’t walk fast enough, regretting wearing heels and wishing for a pair of sneakers instead to sneak away from the party altogether at last.

Only when Steve led you further and further away from people, deeper into the complex, your heart began thundering in your chest; you noticed that the tension in his muscles you had worried about had grew tenfold and realized that his announcement about needing to talk to you might be more than an excuse.

“Steve, are you alright?”

“Fine,” he responded flatly, yet in a voice carrying hundred times more warmth than just a moment ago.

Right. And the Sun is blue, the pigs can fly and tachyons had always been proven particles of matter.  

You swallowed the snarky response, glancing at him as you barely kept up with his long strides; still, you could tell he was holding back, having seen him march with much more hurry and relentlessness.

“Thanks for the rescue, by the way. Really,” you pipped up, one corner of your lips rising despite your stomach turning tight at the unreadable expression on Steve’s face. “Guy simply couldn’t take the hint that I only have eyes for my Captain.”

An uncomprehensible grumbly noise vibrated in Steve’s chest, his arm sliding from your waist in favour of taking your hand in his instead.

Apparently, your attempt at cheering him up failed; you should have known.

The corridor was now completely devoid of people; you had arrived to the part of the floor with three small conference rooms, one an each of them dark and empty – because everyone was at the party.

Your smile turned truly nervous at that point, your mind racing as much as your heart. Steve wouldn’t have led you here unless he wanted to urgently talk about something important. You were a little baffled as to why hadn’t he opted for the elevator and his former quarters instead; but you didn’t question it as he placed his palm on the scanner and practically threw one of the doors open and all but pulled you in, some of the lights automatically flickering to life.

That was all that your ordinary human brain had time to register.

Because then Steve’s hand found firm purchase of your neck, cupping your jaw, lips slanted over yours with ferocity and passion that had your mind snap blank and set your body on fire, your hands limply landing on his firm chest.

Oh. O-okay.

More than okay.

You were forced to walk backwards, Steve’s other hand pressing against your hip to lead your step and steady you at once; an anchor you desperately needed in the whirlwind of puzzlement and madly stirred desire. Your lips parted in invitation just before your ass hit the conference table, an unvoluntary whimper escaping you when Steve’s body aligned with yours, every single part of him bare his lips tight and wound up, his hardness brushing against your thigh.

At the small sound so willingly consumed by his demanding kiss, he squeezed your hip harder, tongue exploring hundred-times explored with delight, air stolen from your lungs, your hands scrambling to grab his suit jacket to pull him even closer.

Who needed breathing anyway?

You didn’t. And you didn’t care how you got here either, be it desire fuelled by impatience or jealousy or the endless time apart, your choice of a dress or your lipstick which you knew Steve liked so much. You didn’t give a damn.

He was the spoilsport, releasing your lips and pressing his forehead against yours, his quick breaths fanning your face, hand from your neck sliding lower, an almost inhuman sound pushing through his teeth when his fingertips found the exposed skin on your breastbone, petting the soft spot adoringly.

You had not known until that moment how much you craved his touch precisely at that spot and how weak in the knees it could make you.

“Please say y-“

“Yes,” you gasped, instantly rewarded by his mouth on yours again with a muttered but hearty-

“God, I missed you-“

-dextrous fingers sliding under your skirts and hiking the fabric up as they travelled up your thigh, Steve’s pelvis rocking against yours, creating delicious friction against your core.

“I missed you too.”

Your hands went to roam over his freshly shaven jaw, over his shoulders, pushing the jacket off just to make him growl in frustration when he had to stop touching you for two full seconds to get rid of it.

“Sorry, want to feel you,” you apologized nonsensically, every single moment of his touch going straight to your head like a strong sweet wine, intoxicating and addictive, much like his scent, his taste, consuming all of your senses.

“Need to have you-”

“You have me,” you said breathily, a plea and a promise at once, thoroughly appreciated by a squeeze to your ass, fingertips wandering towards where you needed him the most--

And then Steve halted in his progress, body turning into a statue as he came in contact with bare skin, lips stilling on yours.

You gulped, trying to judge his reaction despite your haze.

You had had… a little incident when dressing up to the nines. Your broken nail nicked your thigh-high, sending a run up your calf. Uncharacteristically unprepared, you had found out if was your only pair. And sure. You could have run to a store. You could have express-ordered; stores would trip over their feet to deliver to Ms. Captain America in need. You could have worn a pantyhose.

And yet, your mind had steered you towards the drawer where you had kept tights specifically bought for a wholly different occasion than a social outing.

Why not? Your dress was long enough. And having hoped Steve’s mission would bring him home victorious and excited, having missed all of him terribly, you thought you might at least save some time once you two would be home.

Except you weren’t at home now. But that wasn’t on you – you were completely innocent in that matter.

Except you weren’t and your tights were conveniently sewn with a large enough opening to have Steve fit his hand or other parts of his body through, leaving but a flimsy lace panties in his way.

“Sweetheart?” he rasped, licking his lips as if to tempt you further, to confess your sins born of love and lust. He pulled back just an inch, to meet your gaze, his own pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of your beloved blue remained.

You gulped; not ashamed, not truly, perhaps a little apprehensive of his judgement. You had worn what was pretty much an erotic prop to a high-class event and had you not been careful and had had an accident, anyone seeing or god forbid snapping a picture…

“I… wanted to greet you home… and feel you as soon as possible,” you admitted silently, heart thundering in your chest, in your ears, in your temples, in your fingertips fisting the collar of Steve’s shirt.

A beat of silence.

Several wild beats of your heart.

“Christ, I love you-“

You were hoisted up on the edge of the table in a lightning speed and a mouth-watering display of strength, lips devoured by Steve’s with enough force to bend you backwards, the line of your soaked panties pushed aside to not waste time indeed as Steve’s fingertips dipped into your slick with a mutual groan of pleasure.

“Steve-“

“That’s right, honey,” he whispered, lips teasing the soft skin of your throat now, “I’m here now, all yours.”

He teased your lower lips back and forth, once, twice, three times too many and then he finally entered you with two fingers, a dark chuckle coming deep from his throat at the gasp of his name, stepping closer between your spread thighs to press your legs further apart.

He pumped his fingers with ease, driving you towards the stars at a dizzying speed, pressing a soothing kiss to your sternum when you cried out at him curling his fingers just right.

“That’s it, honey… sing for me. Just for me,” he pleaded, contradicting his plea by claiming your lips again and pushing deeper, faster, wicked,your whimpers swallowed greedily, all his, just like you were, on the brink of ecstasy.

You were trembling; in pleasure, in anticipation of absolute bliss, with Steve’s hand firmly pressed to your lower back to hold you close and annihilate you in the most exquisite way known to man. His words, his touch, the husky notes of his voice, the sheer need radiating off him and still making sure you were to steal the first round of fireworks just for yourself.

It exploded through your body without warning.

You broke with a cry of his name, lips freed just so he could hear the delicious sound, so beautifully seconded by his harsh breaths and so filthily accompanied by the wet sound of your pleasure you had no capacity to be ashamed of but revelled in instead.

You knew he did too. Because he had done that to you, for you. It was his and yours and both was a privilege; and lust incarnate, as he brought you down from your high gently as it be, his hand disappearing from your back in favour of undoing his fly and zipper.

Feel as soon as possible; no time to waste. Pants shoved down only as little as necessary, boxers following, a peek of a mouthwatering – and always a little intimidating – sight was all you got.

A small startled sound escaped you when you were being pulled further towards the edge of the table without a moment of reprieve, a chuckle bubbling in your throat at Steve’s impatience – but with no malice. God knew you understood; the moment the head nudged your entrance, coating him in your slick, your orgasmic bliss was long gone, replaced by even more acute need.

You wanted him. Now. All of him. Wanted to feel him deep inside you, wanted him to fill you so completely as only he ever could, devoured by him, desired and loved.

And you wanted to make him feel as delirious with pleasure as he had made you a moment ago, wanted to make his world so hot it turned white for a moment, make his knees buckle with the force of his release.

Your gaze met his, eyes feasting at the beautiful panting mess he already was, all pristine in his suit and bowtie and ready to ruin and be ruined, lips crimson and kiss-swollen and parting with a groan as he slowly pushed into you.

“Look at me, Steve. Want you to see what you do to me,” you whispered, the little broken sound pushing past his lips the only warning you got before he snapped his hips forward with a curse on his lips and sheeted himself fully inside you at once. God, so fully and suddenly that all air got knocked from your lungs.

His hand grasped your jaw, tender but firm, a dangerous glint in his eye, thumb running over your painted lower lip.

“Oh I’m looking, honey.” His gaze flickered down as he retreated almost all the way out, shining with your arousal, and thrusted deeply again, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “And there’s nothing prettier than you falling apart for me, so let. Me. See you.”

He accentuated every word with a sharp snap of his hips, stroking and stretching your walls over and over, setting a rhythm, teasingly slow and punishingly quick, hand and lips roaming, grabbing and caressing, kisses all teeth and all soft, grip on your hips keeping you still to assure he could take you exactly as he liked and encouraging you to roll your hips at your pace as you balanced on the edge of the table all the same.

“Missed you.”

“Love you.

“Need you.”

“So good for me.”

“I’m so damn lucky.”

“Please.”

“Look at me.”

“Give it me, honey.”

Your head was spinning as you were consumed by bliss, spiralling towards your peak so fast you couldn’t tell anymore which words were yours and which were his, where you ended and he began, clinging to each other as you were carried higher and higher, your ears ringing and still allowing you to hear the clinks of the belt buckle and the sinful sound of your rapid love-making; like a lightning running through yours very being, you shattered with a high-pitched whimper of Steve’s name, an echo of a hoarse voice stringing curses and praise barely reaching your conscience.

You panted against Steve’s shoulder as he curled around you, minuscule movements of hips to ride out both of your highs, soft words spilling from his lips as he was barely caching breath himself.

You took a minute, maybe two or five, still, clinging to him all the same, the heady scent of sex and sweat weighing down the air, your tongue heavy and throat parched, fingers carding through Steve’s damp hair softly.

And still, you chuckled breathlessly as Steve kept running his warm hand up and down your back, the sound causing him to press a kiss to your lips that tasted of apology for some reason.

“Well…”

“I’m sorry for pouncing on you, sweetheart,” he muttered, a genuine note of regret nearly lost in the pleasure carried over to his voice.

Your smiled must have looked exhausted, you thought; but blissed out.

Oh, your sweetheart of a boyfriend. As if you hadn’t just both enjoyed this tremendously. Surely, he didn’t really mean it, did he?

“I’m sorry for sort-of setting a trap then…” you followed suit, the words feeling simply wrong on your tongue. “Except I’m not.”

At that, Steve lifted his head, meeting your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire still.

“Me neither.”

You grinned, trying not to be acutely aware of his hardness still stretching you to your fullest.

Of course he wasn’t entirely satisfied. One round had barely even been enough.

“That’s what I thought. Good.”

He mirrored your expression, his grin a little boyish and devilish at once, his expression soft but somehow everything but innocent.

Yet, he caressed your face with his fingertips with tenderness, from your damp temple over your cheekbone to your jaw, gently pressing against your lips.

“I love you. And I missed you. So much. I swear I just wanted to go home – take you home, the moment I walked in,” he admitted, causing your smile to turn sympathetic.

You knew all about that; it was all you had been truly thinking about the whole evening.

“I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh…” you trailed off, sensations slowly returning to your body outside the all-consuming pleasure. You felt like you were burning; sweaty and fucked-out for the lack of a better term, most of your body tingling… You chuckled self-deprecatingly. “God, my legs shake so much… what did you do to me?”

Steve’s hands moved to your thighs as if he needed to feel it and steady the trembling, to help, teeth worrying over his lip, just a hint of guilt – and a whole lot more of something you didn’t dare to decode, because those were some dangerous waters.

You expected him to pull out and help you stand then, clean up; after all, he was a gentleman like that, always supporting you.

He did the former, tenderly so as not to hurt you; but not the latter. When he carefully left your body and you tried to stand, he halted your movements with tightening his hold on your thighs, his gaze roaming all over you as you glanced at him all with puzzlement.

“Steve?”

“Maybe you should lie down,” he suggested lowly, his gaze flickering from your still quaking legs to the opening of your dress on your chest and to your lips and then back.

You swallowed against your dry throat.

The dangerous waters you hadn’t dared to explore roared in the back of your head, a shudder of scalding heat running through your body.

He hadn’t cleaned up. He hadn’t tucked himself in. He was still… as always---he-

You licked your lips, your heart stumbling so hard in your chest it was almost painful.

Wordlessly but with his blown pupils observing you like a hawk, one of his hands moved to your shoulder, gently pushing, encouraging you to lie down on the desk indeed.

And who were you to protest? His gaze was once again pleading and challenging you.

Please, say yes.

Like a fallen angel coaxing you to sin; and you’d all but follow hm straight to hell, because you knew he’d show you heaven unparalleled.

The table was cold and unforgivingly hard against your back, but you didn’t care; all you cared about was Steve looking at you like that, like you were a goddess and a prize he had sworn to win, guiding your leg up to rest your ankle against his shoulder, his hot mouth pressing a kiss to your calf. His other hand pushed his pants and boxes down his legs this time, before he reached for your other leg and wrapped it around his waist, once again nudging your sensitive opening.

“Just one more, honey,” he coaxed you, as if you needed convincing, as if the tremble of your body hadn’t turned from blissful and exhausted to one of anticipation. “Just one more and then we’ll go home…”

He pressed another kiss to your calf and met your gaze as he slowly sank back in with ease, something devilish and painfully alluring flashing in his eyes as a shudder ran through your body, sensitive from your earlier activities.

“And when we’re there, I’ll take you once more… once for every day I would have made love to you, had I been in our home with you as I should have.”

In the haze of your mind, the math didn’t seem to math or even matter, even though you felt it should.

But for now, all you could focus on was Steve, finally with you, and soon coming to your shared home with you, at last.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

The event's masterlist

*chuckles* I’m in danger🥹

I hope Steve makes sure she’s hydrated and eats something in between🤭 And maybe gets some sleep; not all of us are supersoldiers 🥹

ANYWAY. Thank you for reading! Drop feedback if you're willing and may September bring you many smutty cozy evenings and peace 💕

[yandere-chocolate]

Yandere Hunter x Human Reader ~(Romantic)~ fluff

(I thought the last story a wrote was a little darker than intended, so here’s some fluff! This won’t be set on current episodes, sorry:(

TW: Yandere content, implied stalking.

Scenario: Hunter just had a long day of running errands & feeling useless. He demands cuddles.

You were snooping through Hunter’s room to try & find the perfect gift. Hunter has had a rough week, taking orders, being bullied by the coven heads, & even Darius has left on a mission that shouldn’t be done until a few days! You just think he needs a distraction.

As you search, Hunter barged into his room, holding his head in his hands as if he had a headache.

You jolted in surprise, scrambling to get out of the window. You failed miserably, knocking some stuff over before falling flat on your face. You groaned in pain.

“Huh…?” Hunter took his hands off his head, “(Y/N)?…” he moaned, seemingly groggy & frustrated, but not with you.

“Oh! Hi, Hunter! I-I uh…I was just—” “mmhh…” Hunter flopped onto his bed, clearly not caring why you’re in his room.

“Bed. Now.” Hunter demanded, which given that you have been in a relationship with him for about 7 months now, you could easily translate it to mean: “I want cuddles. Give me cuddles.”

You giggled & climbed into his bed, wrapping your arms around him.

“Rough week, huh?” You giggled. Hunter simply huffed & turned his head towards your chest, squeezing you closer to him. “Yeah…” “anything I can do to make it better?” Hunter paused before responding, “actually, yeah. Do you remember anything about the human relm? What’s it like there?” Hunter had heard so about the human relm from Belos & some rumors. He never asked Luz about it though, but you were human too! So maybe…

“Well, it’s much safer, for one! The rain is just cold water, the seas don’t boil, the…” Hunter got lost in your words. It all sounded unbelievable. It was too perfect, it sounded too peaceful.

Hunter’s mind wondered as you spoke, now going off-topic & into praises about you.

You were so beautiful, you were so strong, & brave, & respected in this world that you had been in for only about a year…how did he ever manage to get with that?

A scrawny, bookworm with absolutely 0 social skills got with you.

(This isn’t meant to offend my fellow antisocial people, Or people who are scrawny & read a lot of books. Just…feel like I should say that in case it wasn’t clear-)

Hunter pulled you even closer & nuzzled his head further into your chest, letting out a muffled “I love you…”, earning a giggle from you. You rubbed the back of his head, smiling, “I love you too, dork~” you say as you kiss the top of his head. Hunter’s face went red & he let out a sort of low squeal.

The two of you laid there for the rest of the day, eventually you both feel asleep.

.

.

.

.

(⬇️Obsessive content below ⬇️)

Hunter woke up from his slumber, slowly removing your arms from around him & getting out of the bed.

He looked at your sleeping face, resting a hand on your cheek. You look so peaceful when you sleep.

Hunter leaned down & kissed your lips before getting back up & leaving. He entered a secret trapdoor in his room, behind a bookshelf.

The golden guard crawled through the door & into the dark room, grabbing the pull string & watching as the lights flickered on.

Pictures of you adorned the room, along with an entire alter that had everything you had “lost” over the past 7-or-so months. Hunter felt bad for stealing from you, but you have no idea what he feels when you’re not here! It drive him insane when he doesn’t have you here to lean on after he’s done with…with his work.

He looked up at the pictures of the two of you together & sighed dreamily.

“Soon, it will be just you & me, sweetheart~” Hunter blushed just at the thought of the two of you alone together once everyone else dies. He picked up a photo from before you even knew him; this one was taken in the bushes. Hunter giggled at the low quality.

“I love you so much~” Hunter chuckled lazily & went off to finish some paperwork & maybe even write more stories about the two of you.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 III {finale} || professor!helmut zemo x reader

{𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 I} {𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 II}

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : some part of you thought that maybe you could get through this without ever having to really talk about your feelings, or the future, or all those things you were pretending didn’t matter.  but they matter, and they can’t go unspoken forever.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 11.7k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (semi-public sex aka car sex), some possessiveness, angst, fluffffff way too much fluff, violence (mentioned), mentions of serious injury, military references, relationship discussions, choking (non-sexual lmao it’s just on food), minor character death (in a flashback kinda, not graphic)

You glanced over at him as he stared out into the road ahead, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh, his thumb absent-mindedly stroking your skin.

The weekend getaway had been his idea, but he let you pick the destination.  You picked a cabin in a cute little seaside town, something relaxed where you could spend the whole weekend in bed together and not worry about the rest of the world for a little while.

But you were still in the car, so you were still worrying— specifically, worrying that this felt sort of like a boyfriend and girlfriend thing.  And that itself wasn’t so bad, but it made you feel like the ‘what are we?’ talk was inevitable, as was that talk going poorly.  You could picture it now: I like spending time with you, he’d say, one of those things that sounds like a compliment but really means you’re worth it as long as you require no effort and stay out of my way.

And you’d just nod and pretend to be okay with it because you were in too deep now to break it off.  When you were together, you were so happy that you couldn’t imagine ending it; and when you were apart, you missed him so much that all you could think about was the next time you would be together.

We’re happy now, why do things need to change? he’d say, one of those things that makes sense until you really think about it and understand that it just means why would I care if we’re moving forward or not?  I’m already getting what I want.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat, and he glanced at you quickly.  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, squeezing your thigh.

“Nothing,” you mumbled.

“You expect me to believe that?” he chuckled.  “You’re overthinking again, I can feel it.”

“You can feel me overthinking?” you confirmed, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course,” he nodded.  “I can tell your mood very well by now.”

“Alright, then why ask me what I’m thinking about if you already know what I’m feeling, mind reader?” you challenged.

“You’re sighing because you are bored from being in the car so long,” he decided, “and you’re also noticing that you’ve never dated anybody who drove such a nice car before.”

Does that mean we’re dating?  “Anything else?” you smirked.

“And you’re wishing I would move my hand a little higher.”

Before you could react to that, he moved his fingers up under your skirt, gripping your thigh tightly until you breathed another sigh— one very different from the last.

“Am I right?” he grinned.

“Spot on,” you breathed, whimpering a little when one of his fingers toyed with the hem of your panties.  It was subtle, teasing, and yet it was enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your thighs to clench together which he noticed easily.

He tutted in faux disappointment when his finger moved down to find a wet patch in the fabric.  “Oh, wet already… what are we going to do with you, draga?”

Whatever the fuck you wanna do with me, you thought, but when your lips fell open thankfully only a little moan fell out.

It was impossible to complain about the risk of distracted driving when his fingers slipped into your panties and explored your folds— yet you were about to complain when he pulled his hand away, until you watched him bring his soaked fingers to his lips, quickly getting a taste before reaching under your skirt again.  As if that wasn’t hot enough, he growled a bit when he pushed two fingers into you suddenly.

“Fuck,” you whispered, making him smile proudly.  He only ventured the fingers inside you briefly, sliding them out slowly to brush the rough pads of them over your clit and it made your whole body shudder— he pressed down, drawing slow circles, until you were biting back whimpers and pleas for more.

He kept on teasing you, only reaching as deep as he needed to to lightly press into your spot before slipping out to rub your clit and then start the process all over again.

“You’re so…” you panted.

“Hm?”

“You’re so mean,” you hissed.

“Am I?  I can stop if I’m bothering you,” he offered.

“N-no!  I… I just need more, please,” you groaned, yelping a bit when he pinched your clit roughly.

This time when he filled you with his fingers, he twisted his arm to go a bit deeper and kept his thumb on your clit, your soaked pussy making it easy for him to pump in and out at an increasing pace.

Your eyes fell shut as you gripped the seat beneath you, rocking your hips up against his hand for more.

“Ohh, fuck, Helmut, I’m gonna come,” you warned mindlessly.

You only opened your eyes when you felt the car start to shift, looking over to him as he checked the road before pulling over off the side and stopping near the wooded treeline.

“Wh-what are you—?” you mumbled, cut off when he put the car in park and grabbed your face to kiss you roughly.  You held the wrist by his hand that held your face, moaning against his tongue, still not sure what he was up to but already on board.

“Get in the back, I can’t wait any longer,” he whispered, and you nodded dreamily as you broke away and awkwardly climbed into the backseat; he followed soon after, pushing you back against the leather and sliding his body between your legs; holding you close, kissing you harder.

It would have been reasonable to expect that the small space would make everything more uncomfortable, but instead it just made it hotter— like there wasn’t room to be anywhere but pressed right up against each other, like the only place he could rest his hands was on your body.  You felt totally helpless to his dominating and open-mouthed kiss, to his thick hands tugging your clothes out of the way while you blindly attempted to open his belt.

You reached into his trousers and found him already incredibly hard, wrapping your fingers around the silky skin and grinning when he cursed under his breath.

A bit hasty with your desperation getting the better of you, you guided him to your entrance and began to slowly push your hips forward— but he held your thighs and did it for you, sliding in in one smooth stroke.

This angle seemed to force him even deeper, and you clutched his shirt in weak fists as he pushed all the way inside.  “H-Helmut,” you breathed as he started to move, not quite sure if it was a plea for him to slow down or never stop.

“Fuck, say my name again,” he demanded.

“Helmut,” you repeated, giggling when he kissed your neck on a spot that sort of tickled a bit.  

“One more time,” he instructed; you could feel his grin against your skin, alongside his teeth grazing your pulse.

Just as you started to say it he fucked you harder all of a sudden, just to make you choke on it.  Soon you were saying his name like a prayer, over and over until you worried you’d lose your voice and he had to kiss you to make you stop.  “Say you’re mine,” he pleaded softly, right against your lips, “like you did the first time.”

You felt shame pang at the back of your head, a strong instruction from what was left of your logical mind not to do that.  But for all your mind’s protests, your body was already his and already bending to his will.  “Yours,” you moaned, “Helmut, I’m yours…”

“I know,” he breathed, nodding slightly as he kissed you again, “I know, baby.”

You whimpered and wrapped your legs around his hips, holding him closer as he stayed deep inside you, barely letting him pull back to thrust though he still managed regardless.  The bottom of his shirt was rubbing against your clit (consequences of only half-undressing for a quickie) and it made your back arch until you couldn’t push your body into his anymore.

Embarrassingly quickly, pressure began to build inside you, your moans getting louder as they echoed around the inside of the car.

“Will you come for me, draga?” he purred, a low growl against your neck where he had moved his assault of wet kisses.  You nodded quickly, holding onto his back tight and biting down on your lip a bit too hard.  His hand held your neck, thumb running over your jaw, and in a way it soothed you, but it also sent you tumbling over the edge all at once   You barely choked out his name as your attempt at a warning, as if it weren’t obvious just from the way your channel seized up immediately.  “Good girl,” he cooed lowly right against your ear, “so good for me, don’t stop.”

You couldn’t stop so long as he kept his pace— not nearly as fast as you were used to, much more measured and patient, and yet it ruined you in a way nothing else could.

It was much too sensual for the backseat of a Lexus.  Much too delicate and loving for two people who weren’t even in a formal relationship.  Much too perfect to ever forget, irritatingly enough.

He kept his eyes open to watch your face closely as he came inside you, admiring every detail of your face twisted in pleasure— a tear even fell down your temple and he softly brushed it away— before it all slowed down to a stop and you were just holding each other.

Once you both cooled off for just a second, he pulled you close and rolled you around so he was sitting and you straddled his lap, keeping you in an embrace while he kissed your neck and shoulder.  “So beautiful,” he whispered, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

You wanted to tell him that you meant it, that you were really his.  That it wasn’t just dirty talk (and you weren’t even sure if it qualified as ‘dirty’).  Even if he rejected you, at least it would be off your chest.  

But you chickened out; and in your defense, if there’s any time to have a talk with a partner that might end up awkward, right before a weekend trip is probably the worst time possible.  So, it was strategic aside from just pathetic.

“We’re already going to be a bit late,” he noticed, lifting his hand over your shoulder to look at his watch, “is it alright if we just stay like this for a while before I get back to driving?”

You nodded sleepily against his shoulder and he grinned, kissing your cheek.  “Maybe you can rest here in the back after that…”

And you did, drifting off quickly in the comfort of his arms.  You only partially roused from your sleep when he carefully pulled out of you and laid you down gently, the sound of the car starting coming a few moments later.

He had to keep his eyes on the road, but he wanted so badly to watch you sleep in the rearview mirror.  

“So, what did you think?” you smiled expectantly as you turned from watching the credits roll on the TV to looking at where he sat beside you on the cabin’s big fluffy couch.

“Eh,” he shrugged.

“What?!” you squawked.  “You just experienced an American classic!”

“American classics, in my experience, are aggressive and boisterous and… greasy,” he explained.

You snorted.  “How can a movie be greasy?”

“I meant the food—”

“Oh!  We should watch Grease!” you realized.

He grumbled something in Sokovian to himself as he rubbed his forehead, and you laughed in relent.  “Fine, I won’t make you watch anything more.”

“No, I like watching movies with you,” he decided, “but maybe the next one can be a bit more… subtle.”

"The next movie we watch should be Sokovian," you suggested.

"There aren't many Sokovian films… the constant war was pretty hard on the cinema industry, believe it or not,” he scoffed.  “We managed to make a lot of porn, though.”

“Well then maybe we should watch some of that,” you smirked, and he laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh no, it’s awful.  Plumbers and lonely housewives, cops pulling women over, that sort of thing,” he dismissed.

“Cheesy porn tropes, you say?  Like, perhaps, a professor and his student?” you pressed, leaning in to run your fingers playfully over his open collar.  “So unrealistic.”

“It was different with us,” he decided.

“How?”

“It wasn’t for a grade, we never used the term ‘oral exam’...”

“Mm, maybe we should have,” you purred, hopping up to straddle his lap and trace your finger over the chain of his necklace that was just barely exposed under his shirt.  “It’s sorta sexy.”

“Really?  Oral exam?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.  “Makes me think of the dentist.”

“Oh, so you don’t think dentists are hot?” you joked.  “Who doesn’t like latex gloves and drills in their mouth?”

He laughed, and although you were sort of trying not to seem totally desperate, you just couldn’t hold yourself back from trying to kiss that smile right off his face— thankfully he didn’t seem to mind, humming a bit against your lips and placing his hands on your back to hold you closer.

Just when you thought he would deepen it, he pulled back slightly.

“Wait,” he mumbled against your lips, pushing you back gently to break the kiss.  “It was… different with us, right?”

You shook your head slightly, confused as you struggled to remember what he was talking about.  “What?  Yeah, of course.”

Hastily pressing your lips back on his, you were all in but he was clearly distracted, only half-heartedly kissing you back; you could all but taste his hesitance and it forced you to pull back and look down at him again.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

“Oh, uh, nothing’s wrong,” he assured, “I just… I was just thinking.”

“...what were you thinking about?” you asked when you realized that was the end of his sentence.

“I was thinking about what you said a few weeks ago, on my birthday— that you liked that I’m so much older than you.”

“Mhm?”

“You’re not…” he started and began again.  “This isn’t just… about that, for you, is it?”

“What?” you furrowed your brow.

“I mean, is that what this—” he motioned to the space between the two of you— “is about?”

You frowned, a little sinking feeling already forming in your gut.  “I don’t understand,” you spoke, but your fear was more that you understood him completely.

“My English isn’t good enough for this,” he sighed.  “Sometimes I worry that this is… something you do.”

“That what is something I do?” you asked, a bit more pointed than you meant for it to come out, but you really just needed him to say it.  

“Date older men,” he finally finished.  “Seduce professors, I don’t know, whatever you’d like to call it.”

You straightened up and got up off of his lap, stepping back.  “Seriously?  You think this is, like, my kink or something?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he clarified, standing up with you, “but I’m asking in case I’m wrong.”

Maybe on some level, you could appreciate that it was a reasonable question.  After all, you had been sort of wanting to ask him if he made a habit of seducing students— but you didn’t because you knew it would be horribly offensive, which is why it was so aggravating that he was doing it to you now.  In these months together (but not together together), had he not learned enough about your character to realize you weren’t in it for anything but him?  “I told you I haven’t even dated that much before you,” you reminded him firmly, crossing your arms.

“And I believe you, I’m not accusing you of anything—”

“It kinda sounds like you are!” you snapped.

“And it sounds like you are getting defensive about it, which makes me worry even more!” he shot back, and you wondered if you’d ever heard him raise his voice before.

“Well, don’t worry about it, because it’s none of your business,” you rolled your eyes, “we’re not even dating anyway.”

Just as you started to walk away, not even sure where you would go when you were staying here with him (a walk outside, maybe, just to clear your head and be somewhere that he couldn’t see you cry?), he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Wait, please,” he breathed, and only because he sounded so broken-hearted did you turn around.

“What?” you sighed, showing your irritation in lieu of your heartbreak.

He took a quick breath, collecting himself before he spoke again.  “I don’t mean to be invasive and I certainly don’t mean to be controlling,” he explained, “I just… I want to understand what you want.  From me, specifically.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “that might be a more complicated question than you realize.  With a complicated answer.”

“I have time, I have the rest of the weekend," he decided.  “Just tell me that this isn’t only fun for you.  If it is, then… then I’m glad you had your fun, and we can have fun together here, and then when we get back to the city… we can go our separate ways.”

“And if it’s not?”

He swallowed, looking away briefly before stepping closer, reaching up to cradle your face in his palm.  “If it’s not just fun, then… then we need to have a different conversation.”

You cleared your throat nervously.  “What conversation?”

“I need to know first,” he insisted, “or it would be wrong for me to tell you.  I don’t want you to spare my feelings, draga, I just want the truth.”

What you really wanted was to know his feelings first so you could spare your own, but he was so adamant on making you speak first, his gaze desperately searching your face as you tried to avoid the heat of it.  “I…” you began, not sure what to say.  You knew what you wanted to say, you just didn’t know how, exactly.  Looking up into his eyes again, you took a quick breath and started over, trying to ignore your heart racing inside your chest.  “It’s not just fun, Helmut, or a bucket list thing or a ‘trying something wild and crazy while I’m still young’ thing.  I’m serious about this… but, you know, if you just wanna stay casual I understand—”

He cut you off with a kiss, sudden but not quite desperate; rather relaxed, actually, and you melted into it as his arm snaked around your waist and pulled you close.  

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. 

“You— what?” you gasped, pushing back slightly against his chest.

“I love you,” he repeated.  “It’s not just fun, it’s not a bucket list thing or a midlife crisis thing— I love you, I’ve been in love with you for weeks and couldn’t think of what to say… I was afraid to smother you, you wouldn’t be wrong to want more freedom than you can have with me.”

A shaky breath moved in and out of your lungs as you looked away from his gaze— it was too wonderfully all-encompassing for you to be able to process this with his eyes on you.

“I hope it doesn’t bother you,” he mumbled nervously, “but I can’t change how I feel.”

“No, it doesn’t… it’s good,” you smiled, starting to laugh.  Your heart was beating so heavy you could hear it in your ears, you could barely even hear yourself speak as you answered him.  “Helmut, it’s— I love you too, of course.”

“Really?” he beamed.

“Really.” 

He kissed you again, harder, and neither of you could stop smiling through it.  "Say it again," he pleaded softly. 

"I love you," you repeated.  "I love you, Helmut."

“Mm, one more time,” he encouraged with a soft laugh as he lifted you into his arms and began to carry you down a familiar path to the cabin’s bedroom.

“I love you I love you I love you I—” you had to stop to gasp when he bit down on your neck, not too hard but still quite surprising, before he tossed you down onto the bed and pounced on top of you.

“Is it fair to say that we’re dating now?” he presumed, making you laugh.  

“Yeah, I think so.”

“So it’s just us, you and me, girlfriend and boyfriend?” he continued.  “Nobody else?”

“There was never anybody else,” you promised.

“I know, and now there never will be,” he cooed, placing a kiss right on your ear.  “You’re all mine now.”

A shiver ran up your spine instantly.  “God, how do you do that?  Go from sweet to filthy in a split-second?”

“Mm, a habit of mine,” he hummed, “because it makes you all cute and whiny.”

You frowned as he kissed your nose.  “Hey!” you, proving him right, whined; he laughed and held the back of your neck as he kissed you again.

Just the sex that followed that conversation would’ve been enough to make this an amazing weekend, but it was even better to leave the vacation as a couple when that wasn’t even how you’d started it.  

Afterwards, you laid together in bed and commiserated how silly you both had been to assume the other didn't want more, deciding from now on to be open and honest as much as possible.  That was what inspired you the next day to spend the morning trading secrets over the breakfast he'd made.

"I cheated on my eighth grade Spanish exam," you admitted, making him put down his fork in pretend shock.

"¡Chica traviesa!" he gasped.

"Maybe if I'd actually studied, I would know what that means…"

"Truthfully, I can't judge you.  I did something similar in my primary studies,” he recalled.  “I broke into the teachers' desk and stole an early copy of the exam.  But I didn't use it myself, I used it to impress a girl in my class."

You smiled trying to imagine that.  "I can see you as the romantic type when you were a kid," you hummed.

"I was more the rebellious type, with girls being one of the more reliable ways to rebel."

That piqued your interest, and you gave him an excited grin of anticipation.  "Did you have a punk phase?"

"It was Eastern Europe in the early 90s: of course I had a punk phase," he chuckled.  "How else do you celebrate the end of a brutal capitalist revolution but by importing every Western record you can find and dying your hair black in a petrol station's bathroom sink?"

"Oh my god!" you giggled.

"But it was rather minimalist, I wasn't permitted much stylistic freedom so it was little things like that… I wanted an ear piercing, but my mother would've truly had a heart attack."

"I guess you're better than I was,” you shrugged, “my rebellious phase was brief but with a much stronger willingness to sacrifice my mother's sanity."

"Yes, that's more typical," he nodded.  "I suppose my real secret was that I didn't want to rebel from my parents nearly as much as I thought I did… I just wanted to make them happy."

You smiled at him as he stared down at his plate.  "You sound like a sweet kid."

"Horrifically stupid and a bit self-involved but sure, sweet," he agreed with a chuckle.

"So, all our secrets are out, huh?" you grinned.

"Perhaps I have a few left," he smirked as he leaned across the table to kiss you softly.  "I'm saving them for a rainy day."

The weekend went by much too quickly, but you couldn’t begrudge the return to daily life now that you were returning to it together— so far, you’d found that together was the best way to experience life. 

Almost as fast as the vacation, so went the seasons as well: you both had classes through summer, and you enjoyed the freedom that came with a much more empty campus; fall, as always, was damp and chilly yet comforting— sometimes the leaves turned just the right color of brown before they fell to remind you of his eyes; winter sent you back home to see your family for the holidays, just for a few days, and you told them you’d bring your mysterious boyfriend next time even though it made your heart race to imagine that.

Your birthday passed at some point during the year, and he took you out to one of those slightly-hipstery barcades where he revealed his secret talent for skeeball— you were glad he felt comfortable completely annihilating your high score even on your birthday.  He invited your friends, too, and it went significantly less horribly than you imagined; they only asked him weird questions about being a professor a few times, but otherwise everyone got along oddly well.

And soon it was another spring again, one of your last ones before you graduated, and you let yourself focus on things other than what might happen when you left the university and he almost certainly stayed.  For now, you just needed to worry about how you’d ever find time for each other during finals season when both of you were busy for different reasons.

           Dinner tonight?  I have a reservation at 7 for a place in the museum district.  They have a dress code so wear something evening ready if possible.  -Z

you don’t have to sign your texts you know.  I know it’s you.  it says your name right above the text.

           It’s more formal this way.  -Z

it’s a text message, it will never be formal??

          Will I see you at dinner tonight or am I in trouble for asking over text?  -Z

I’ll be there

          I look forward to your company, draga

hey, you didn’t sign it!  progress!

         -Z

goddamn it

“This place is… really nice,” you noticed sheepishly, glancing around at the minimalist-yet-luxurious decor of the restaurant while you took your seat across the white-linen-covered table from him.  “Like, significantly nicer than I’ve ever been to before.”

“Well, you look like you fit right in,” he assured, and you almost believed him— it was the nicest thing in your closet, but still seemed like the wrong energy compared to how him and everyone else seemed so casually flawless.  “I took the liberty of ordering for you,” he explained as he poured water into your glass for you from the basin at the table, “I was going to make you order the salmon anyways, it’s really impeccable.”

“What’s the occasion?  I’m still feeling spoiled from the anniversary celebrations last month.”

You two had decided to celebrate a year since the day you’d met (and had sex for the first time; it was an action-packed day) instead of the day you had officially began your relationship, since there was no reason to commemorate months of pretending to be casual while you were both quietly devoted to each other.

“I just want to have a nice date with my girlfriend, is that so terrible?” he smiled.

“No,” you answered quickly, “but that’s a load of bullshit.”

He chuckled a little.  “You’re right.  I wanted to do something nice with you before I go.”

“Yeah, that’s not ominous at all,” you frowned.  “Care to elaborate, international man of mystery?”

The conversation paused briefly as the server came by with your meals, and you gave him a little nod of appreciation before he left; the salmon did look pretty amazing, and you trusted your boyfriend’s taste even if it was often more refined than your own.

“I need to make a trip home in the next few months,” Helmut finally clarified.  “Nothing particularly interesting, and thankfully all very temporary— boring estate management stuff, comes up every once in a while,” he shrugged.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound as needy as you felt.

“No more than three weeks.”

“Three weeks?!” you yelped.

“You know I’d never leave your side if I had the choice,” he smiled.  “It’ll go by in a moment, you might not even notice I’m gone.”

“Are you kidding?  I practically live at your apartment.  We probably haven’t spent three days apart since we met.  Hell, we have sex, like, five times a week!”

You heard the chatter of nearby restaurant-goers die down, and you awkwardly looked around to find some of them staring at you as Helmut tried to suppress his laugh.

“I… may or may not have forgotten we’re in public,” you whispered harshly as most of them seemed to get back to their own conversations.  “Let’s not eat here again.”

“Oh, would you like to announce our sexual frequency anywhere else?” he joked, though his tone remained as serious as ever, and it made you laugh even though you were the butt of the joke.  “Olive Garden, maybe?”

“Shut up,” you demanded between hiccups of laughter.

“The Texas Roadhouse?  I’m sure they would love that,” he continued.  “They seem like a real liberal crowd.”

“Stop,” you snorted, trying to catch your breath and not laugh too loud in front of all these people who already had a poor impression of you.

“Or we can go to the drive-through at Taco Bell and you can tell them through the little speaker thing,” he offered, and you hid your burning face behind your cloth napkin.

“You’re mean, I was just trying to say that I’m gonna miss you if you’re gone for so long!”

He leaned across the table to grab the napkin and slowly pull it down from your face, smiling at you when he could see you again.  “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised.  “We’ll have sex fifteen times when I get back, for lost time.”

“That’s not really my issue,” you sighed.  “I mean, yeah, we’re still definitely gonna do that, but that’s not what I’m gonna miss most.”

“I know,” he nodded, “don’t think I’m going to do anything but miss you terribly the whole trip.  In fact, that brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about tonight.”

“Telling me you’re leaving for three weeks isn’t the main topic of discussion?” you realized.

“It was, but now I’m here with you and it has me thinking all sorts of things,” he explained.

“Okay… what are you thinking about?” you asked quietly.

“Well, I was just thinking that I don’t want to keep you from living your youth while you can,” he answered, looking back at you as you took a sip of your drink, “but that I’d like to marry you.”

Just like that, you inhaled some water and began coughing and choking.

“Hypothetically!” he blurted out, leaning forward to make sure you were okay but you waved him back into his seat.

“I, uh,” you began, coughing one more time before you started again, “I didn’t think that was what you were thinking about.”

“Well, clearly,” he mumbled.

“I mean, I didn’t know you were thinking about that at all,” you explained, “like, I wasn’t sure that we were there yet.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice when I told you not so long ago that this year with you had been the best of my life,” he recalled, making you smile a bit to yourself at the memory.  “I’m there.  I’m just asking where you are.”

“I guess I need to think about that,” you lied.  You didn’t need to think about it, you knew that he was talking about exactly what you wanted, but you needed to convince him you were taking this question seriously— god knows he was constantly worrying that you shouldn’t be tied down to him when you were so young, and although you typically handled that by making a bondage joke (and he typically handled that by making a non-joke bondage offer), you didn’t want him to worry about this.  

“Maybe you can think while I’m on my trip,” he decided, “and when I come back, we can talk about the future.”

“I just meant for, like, a few minutes,” you admitted.  “I don’t need that long, Helmut.  I know what I want.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

“To be with you, whatever that looks like,” you said, sounding more confident than you thought possible.  “That’s what I want.  And I don’t wanna hear you saying anything about how you think I might be too young for marriage or that I might change my mind later… I have a right to love just as much as you, and to know what’s right for me.”

“And it’s me?” 

You smiled as you reached for his hand where it rested on the table, squeezing his fingers in yours.  “It’s you.  Obviously.”

He looked at your hands held together before he smiled back at you— but it faded suddenly, and he pulled his hand away to lean back in his chair.  “There’s something else I should tell you, before I let you say too much...”

You swallowed thickly.  Oh god, here it comes.  Secret family in Canada, glue-sniffing addiction, absurdly specific and disturbing fetish… the wheel of misfortune was already spinning in your head, and you took a bite of your fish to try to look natural.

“You should know the truth about my family, back in Sokovia?  We’re, in a certain sense of the word… royalty.”

You started choking again; why did he keep telling you this stuff while you had something in your mouth??

“Shit, are you alright?” he asked nervously, and you nodded in spite of your fit of coughs.

“Are you a prince?!” you spat out as you started to catch your breath again.

“A baron.  A little less romantic, I know,” he smirked.

“And if… if what you’re talking about, actually happened, then that would make me…” you trailed off, raising your eyebrow expectantly.

“My baroness,” he finished for you.  Funny enough, the word my was doing more for you than the royal title.  “Hypothetically.”

“You keep saying that word,” you noticed.  “I hope we think it means the same thing.”

“Maybe a better word would be ‘eventually,’” he decided, and your back straightened because oh shit, this is really going to happen.  “Maybe an even better word would be ‘soon.’”

You almost choked again, with no excuse this time as there was nothing in your mouth to actually choke on.  “H-how soon?” you whispered, and his lips curled into a mischievous grin as he lifted his drink.

“Sorry darling, I don’t think I can tell you that,” he decided as he took a sip slowly, still staring you down over the rim of the glass.

You shifted nervously in your seat, trying to imagine how you were supposed to be anything but jittery after this conversation. 

“Can I ask an inappropriate question?” 

He raised his eyebrow.  “Let’s try not to scare the other patrons again, but sure.”

“How rich are you?” you blurted out, and he laughed a little.

“Somewhere between ‘outrageously’ and ‘ludicrously,’” he decided.  “It might seem a little far-fetched considering I prefer not to live extravagantly here in the States… but we’ve made good use of the last dozen-or-so generations of wealth.”

“And you let me pay for lunch last week!” you remembered, leaning forward to smack him on the shoulder with a scowl.

“That’s all you have to say about that?” he realized bewilderedly.

“It’s all that I can process right now!”

“I should apologize for not telling you sooner,” he nodded.

You paused as you stared back at him.  “I sorta thought you’d continue with that by explaining why you didn’t.”

He sighed, looking away.  “I spent so much time worrying you were only with me in pursuit of a new experience with an older man.  And then if you knew how much money was involved… I didn’t want to jump from one insecurity to the next with you, if I could avoid it.”

“You’re insecure about being rich?  Next you’re gonna start crying ‘cause your cock’s too big,” you rolled your eyes.

Again, other diners turned to you and this time you looked back at them.  

“What are you looking at, huh?” you snapped, and they all stared back down at their plates quickly.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“If you could stop antagonizing the public, that would be ideal,” Helmut hissed.

“I don’t think I’m handling this very well,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands.  “I wish you would’ve told me before.”

“So do I, but believe me that I had my reasons,” he sighed.

You lowered your hands from your face to rest them on your elbows as you crossed your arms.  “I think if we are going to talk seriously about this next step, then you’re gonna have to tell me those reasons,” you decided.

“Right, of course,” he nodded, clearing his throat as he looked to the side.  “Well, I guess I should start from the beginning.  As good a place to start as any, yes?”

You wrinkled your brow; you weren’t sure why he was so clearly nervous.

“As you can imagine, I was born into the royal life, I didn’t have much of a say in it all.  From the time I was eighteen I was the 13th Baron in a line of Sokovian royals who controlled a certain amount of land.  In retrospect, I understand how incredibly fortunate I was, especially compared to the poorest people in my country, but at the time all I could appreciate was that it was stuffy and boring and allowed for none of the adventure I longed for.  Hence the aforementioned punk phase, but that didn’t satisfy for long.  I suppose that was why I enlisted.”

“You were in the military?”

He nodded.  “Briefly.  I liked the idea of being a part of something that had nothing to do with my name.  And I was two years into my contract when my unit was stationed in a little border town, mostly farmland, but Sokovian borders are always contentious places… anyhow, one night, while another Lieutenant and I were on patrol, there was an ambush.  They shot at us, we shot back, but we were just firing into the dark so we went down rather quickly… I assumed that was the end, everything went black in an instant before I could even think…”

You shuddered, appreciating how traumatic this was for him as he looked down at his lap, stoic but in that way that clearly held more underneath.

“I woke up in a bed, in a cottage,” he recalled.  “A farmgirl heard the gunfire and waited until the enemy forces moved on to render aid.  She told me I was nearly dead when she found me but that her uncle was the local doctor and had been able to remove the bullets and stitch me up.”

“You told me those scars were from being attacked by a dog as a child,” you remembered.

“Yes, I didn’t forget the lies I told you,” he frowned.  “I think that one should be understandable.”

You swallowed, regretting saying anything.  “O-of course, I’m sorry.”

“The important thing is that she told me my partner was dead when she got there, and she couldn’t do anything for him.  I was in shock— keep in mind I was young and dumb and thought of myself as some kind of invincible— but for the next month she delicately nursed me into… at least decent health, and helped me cope with it all.”  He took a deep breath, a soft and somber smile crossing his face.  “I suppose you can imagine what happened next.”

He looked at you again and you gave him a shrug, unsure what he expected you to guess.

“We fell in love,” he finished flatly.

“Oh,” you nodded, “right.  It sounds pretty romantic.”

“Yeah, the wounded infantryman and the rural farmgirl… it was all very pastoral,” he sighed, “but anyways, my family was more than hesitant to allow me to marry a poor girl, which obviously only made me want to do it more.  I even told her that I’d leave the title for her, and she gave me some pitiful monologue about how she’d never forgive herself if she was responsible for me being disinherited, she pleaded with me to find a way to gain my parents’ approval… but I knew that we were in love and that nothing could stop us, so I didn’t think much of it.”

You tried to imagine him as a young, hopeless romantic, and some part of you was a bit jealous that others got the opportunity to experience that side of him when you didn’t; but it wasn’t like he was exactly cold and hardened now, at least not with you.  Just wiser, with more experience and more scars.

“My parents had put their foot down and demanded I call off the engagement.  And, oddly enough, they told me that it wasn’t her social standing that bothered them but that they simply didn’t trust her.  That they thought I was being rash and had only known her a few months— that I was too young, I would change my mind.  I was incensed; I mean, not only do they dare to insult my foresight, but this was the love of my life they were talking about like she was some conniving witch.  So I said some things I regret to this day, and I told them to keep their title and their properties and have me formally disowned at their earliest convenience.”

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Well, the truth, as it often does, came out sooner or later.  That all along, her love was for the money and not the man.  When I told her I’d left my title behind for her, she… didn’t take it very well.  And by that I mean she slapped me so hard I saw white for a second.”

Your heart hurt to imagine him being treated like that.

“I told her that we would be poor but we would be happy together, she told me that she never wanted to be poor again, that the reason she did all this was to get out of this hellish farming town and live in a castle in Novi Grad.  I suppose I could’ve forgiven all that, after all I imagine she struggled greatly for a long time living that way.  But then she started ranting about how she didn’t drag some dying Baron through the mud that night on the patrolway just to marry a poor man.  I was heartbroken just realizing that she knew who I was when she saved me— that she might not have if I were anyone else.  Like, say, my partner that night.”

Your chest was too tight to gasp properly.  “You don’t mean…” 

“She held out on me for a minute but I finally got her to admit it… the other man was alive when she found us, but she left him to die while she saved me, apparently planning from the very beginning to seduce me and escape to Novi Grad like she always dreamed of.  His name was Miroslav Pavlović, and he was a good man…  a boy, really, only twenty when he died.  Alone.  In the dirt.”

Hot tears on your cheeks made you realize you were crying, and you awkwardly wiped them away in hopes that he wouldn’t notice.

He took another deep breath and seemed to reorient his mind, away from the mourning and back to his story.  “Of course, I, being a young man with all my pride, told my parents that I ended it in respect of their wishes, but I think my mother suspected what really happened.  Especially when the girl went ahead and married my cousin.”

“She what?!”

“An industrious young woman, I have to give her that,” he nodded.  “She didn’t need a Baron, she just needed somebody who could get her out of the farm and into whatever her idea was of a luxurious life.  And yes, it is exactly as wonderful as you’re imagining to see her on those rare occasions where the extended family all has to gather.”

“Yikes,” you mumbled.  “That’s… cold.”

“I suppose it all worked out for the best— I dodged a bullet much worse than the ones that hit me before I met her, she got her riches and noble husband, and my parents were free to arrange a marriage for me with a woman of more adequate social standing.  I was so convinced I was terminally unlovable that I actually went along with it.”

“You married her?”

“No, I just agreed to, on the condition that we meet a few times first, at least.  It was the second time we met when she confided in me that she was actually a lesbian.”

“Oh!” you chuckled, hoping it wasn’t inappropriate to laugh a bit.  Not as his misfortune, per se, or at the idea of a lesbian in general, but just the way this story seemed to get more complex at evey turn.

“Yes, well, my family was more liberal but hers were not the sort who would respond well to that news… I considered going through with the marriage to give her an alibi, so to speak, and the both of us would quietly have affairs with women— ideally different women— to keep up appearances for our families.  She and I actually got along alright, we thought maybe we could be good friends, which some husbands and wives aren’t even when they marry for more genuine reasons.”

You scoffed as you nodded, “yeah, true that…”

“But,” he shrugged, “I got cold feet, I just couldn’t bring myself to resign to an entire relationship built on a lie again, so, I decided to leave it all behind and study at a German university— I chose history because I’d consumed historical nonfiction voraciously throughout most of my life and it seemed like a good fit, and I suppose it was the right choice… because here I am.”

You took a long, deep breath, but you didn’t feel that much more stabilized afterwards.  “Okay, a lot to unpack with that,” you announced.  “I understand why you didn’t tell me about the money, with everything that happened before… but you lived this entire life that I knew nothing about.  You already know everything about me.”

“I couldn’t tell you much more than I did without burdening you with it.”

“Sure, but you can appreciate that this puts me in a sort of vulnerable position,” you offered.

“Right,” he agreed.  “That was, of course, never my intention.  I don’t tell anyone the things I’m telling you now, understand that.  Everyone at the university thinks I came from much more humble beginnings and has no idea about my military service— well, except for that one royal historian who unfortunately recognized my name, but I’ve been bribing him into silence from my first day.”

“Wait, you pay him off?!”

“Oh, god no— I just grade his final term papers,” Helmut shrugged.  “But still, I got pretty comfortable with my reinvention, weeks go by without me thinking about my life before this.  Especially with you… sometimes I thought maybe it would be better to quietly abandon it all and become the person you thought I was.”

You smiled a little; maybe you wished that you knew how to be angry with him even in times like this, but you just couldn’t do it.  “You’re still the person I think you are,” you assured.  “Where you come from is not who you are, it’s just one of those things that help make you who you are.  It’s up to you to decide what you do with it… and I think you’ve done something pretty great with it.  Plenty of people who didn’t need to work for a living just wouldn’t.”

“I know it sounds nice, and I won’t pretend it isn’t an invaluable resource, but I find it much more fulfilling to work.  I really love what I do, so that helps.”

Nodding a little to yourself, you reflected on how true that really was; after all, this all began in a classroom where you were enchanted by his passion.

“I suppose the moral of the story is… I’m sorry that I hid things from you,” he concluded firmly.  “I’ve learned that I can’t protect myself from heartache and love you properly at once— I have to pick one.  I want to choose to love you, I want to choose that every day for… well, forever.  If you’ll let me.  But if the secrets are too insurmountable, I won’t judge you.”

You let out a heavy sigh.  “That’s the dilemma of love, isn’t it?  You have to be willing to get hurt.  But the last thing I want is to hurt you, I promise.  And in the end, it really doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor or a fugitive from the law or an alien from space: I love you, really.”

For the first time since he started telling you everything, he seemed to relax.  “I love you too, I hope that much is obvious.”

You nodded, reaching across the table to hold his hand.  “Yeah, it is.  I’m still getting used to that, honestly.”

“Not that I don’t mind being the first,” he tilted his head, “but it’s a shame no one ever cherished you before, in the way that you deserve.”

“You do seem to mind it a little bit, when you always go on about ‘keeping me from my youth’ or ‘restricting me when I should be free’ or whatever,” you recalled, putting on a poor imitation of his accent when you quoted him.

“Well, I guess it’s that I never desired to be the first,” he clarified, staring you down suddenly, “but that I intend to be the last.”

That look… you were already biting your lip and you didn’t even notice it.  “Okay,” you sighed.

“Hm?”

“You can be the last, just take me home,” you whispered, crossing your legs to hold your thighs together as your tongue ran over your teeth.

He could only bear to tear his eyes from you for a second as he called out, “The check, please!”

wanna come over later?  I can’t focus enough to study

You stared down at the text you’d sent Kacey, wondering if it made you sound pathetic.  You didn’t want to seem like the sort of girl who made her boyfriend her whole life, and therefore had no idea what to do with herself while he was gone.  And to be clear, it wasn’t loneliness itself that made you so listless; of course, you missed him plenty, but your inability to get anything done or even enjoy some alone time was disrupted by that sort of numb, shocked feeling you got every time you remembered that he wanted to get married.

Even more shocking: you wanted to get married.

It didn’t feel too soon, it didn’t feel all that sudden, but it felt like it should feel too soon, if that makes any sense.  Maybe you could try to explain it to Kacey if she ever checked her damn phone.

You groaned as you tossed the device away, knowing staring down the screen wouldn’t make her answer any faster.  Having already watched everything good on every streaming service ever, you figured your next step was to move on to the mediocre things on streaming, but you couldn’t decide between a show about renovating tiny-houses or cooking using only leftovers.

It was hard to focus on your choices when you kept playing the moment before he left in your mind over and over.

You nestled in under his arm around your shoulders, tightening your grip around his torso until you caught a glance of his watch.

“Don’t you need to leave soon?  There will be traffic on the way to the airport.”

“No, there shouldn’t be, it’s only a ten minute drive.”

“What?  It’s at least half an hour.”

He laughed a little as he realized the misunderstanding.  “Darling, I’m not going to the airport.  I’m going to a private airport.  For a private plane.”

You cleared your throat.  “Oh… right.  Still getting used to the exorbitantly rich thing.”

“But I suppose I should finish my packing, I think I’ve put off the last of it long enough,” he sighed, sitting up and tearing himself out of your arms even though you were pouting about it.

Before he left he gave you a long kiss at the door, just meant to say goodbye, but then your knees went weak and he had to hold you and it all started to lead from one thing to another very quickly.

“Fuck, Helmut, your flight,” you reminded him breathlessly, holding onto his biceps as he kissed down your neck.

“They’ll wait for me, it’s my fucking plane,” he growled, grabbing your hips hard.  “I need to be inside you one more time before I go.”

Just as the best parts of the memory started to flood back, your phone rang and you jumped up instantly; the sound of 99 Luftballons, your custom ringtone for him that started as a joke but stuck for some reason, told you it was your boyfriend calling and it barely rang for a second before you answered.

“Hi!” you greeted instantly.  You looked at the clock on the wall and did some quick math to realize it was probably almost time for dinner there, when it was still before noon where you were.

“Hello, darling,” he answered back, his voice instantly soothing you as you leaned back against the headboard of your (his) bed.

“Your accent is stronger than when you left,” you noticed.

“This is the first time I’ve spoken English in days,” he explained.  

“How does it feel to be home?”

“Do you mean being in Sokovia, or talking to you?”

“Baaaabe,” you whined playfully, “you’re gonna make me all needy…”

“I just wish I was there to see the effect I was having on you,” he cooed.  “It’s been a bit boring without you— I’m going to bring you with me next time, I assure you.  Not just because I miss you so much, but so you can see the country.  I want you to see my homeland and there’s no one better to show you around than myself.”

“You really love it, don’t you?” you hummed.

“More than almost anything,” he answered, and you knew what he was implying he loved most.  “I know it has… struggled, it isn’t considered exactly a vacation spot by many, but it means everything to me.  I don’t have much family left for you to meet, but I’m sure I’ll find some people to show you off to.”

“I’d love to come with you,” you agreed, “you know I’d go with you anywhere, though.”

“And you need to try the ćevapi!” he added, and you could hear his beaming smile through the phone.  “Sokovian food is very different from Western dishes but I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Yeah,” you agreed dreamily, laying back on the pillow as you heard him sigh from the other end.

“God, I miss you,” he breathed, making you hum proudly.

“Miss you too,” you agreed.  “I’ve been thinking about you a lot…”

“Yeah?  I bet I can guess what you were thinking about.”

“Such as?”

“Things I can’t say right now, in case someone hears me,” he chuckled.  “We may not speak English much but they still understand it.”

“Well, I’m all alone,” you purred, “and I’ve been thinking about everything I’m gonna do to you when you get back.”

“Oh fuck, baby, don’t—” he pleaded weakly.

“I really wanna ride you,” you continued in a sultry voice you didn’t even mean to put on, “even though you’re probably too big for that, I just want you so deep in me I can’t fucking breathe—”

“You’re cruel,” he hissed, a low whisper, and you loved his helplessness.

“It’s been so lonely without you, Helmut, I’ve been fucking myself with every toy I can find but nothing fills me up like you do, god I just need your cock.”

“I should’ve had something custom made,” he decided, still whispering but you could hear him smirk, too.  “So it’s only ever me inside you.”

“Even then, it’s not the same… it has to be you, the way you fuck me is just impossible to recreate, nothing’s as good as you, professor.”

He made a strained noise and you giggled happily.  “How long has it been since you’ve called me that?”

“Too long,” you hummed, “I still think it’s pretty hot.”

“Oh, it definitely is,” he chuckled breathlessly, “listen, I have to return to my meeting, and you’ve made it impossible to focus on boring legal things now but I need to try my best.  Alright?  I’ll call you tonight, if you’re still awake.”

Of course, your tonight was his tomorrow morning; you decided not to make him worry by admitting you would stay up all night to be able to talk to him.  “Okay,” you sighed, “good luck in your boring legal meeting.”

He gave one last whispered ‘goodbye’ and the line beeped as the call ended; you sighed and flopped back onto the bed, staring up at your ceiling blankly.

He’d only been gone four days.  How were you supposed to make it to three weeks?

When his plane landed, you were waiting for him in the car, parked on the runway; it was a much quicker process than picking someone up from a traditional airport, plus you got to run to him the second he was off the plane and it made you feel like you were in an old movie or something.

Throwing dignity to the wind, you jumped into his arms and let him spin you around, setting you down to kiss you hard as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I missed you so much,” he mumbled against your lips, hands gripping your waist, and you’d been trying to imagine this moment ever since he left but you couldn’t have ever come close to how perfect it was.

“Missed you more,” you promised with a smile.  “Let’s go home, Helmut.”

“Or…” he trailed off, and you raised an eyebrow as you sank back down onto your heels and looked up at him.

“Or?”

“Or we could get back on the plane and tell them to take us wherever we want.”

“I-I have finals!” you gasped.  “So do you!”

“Not until next week,” he dismissed, “this is just for a few days.”

“I haven’t packed any of my stuff!”

“You have your phone, everything else can be bought when we get there,” he shrugged.

“What’s gotten into you?!” you giggled, looking back up at him wildly and wondering how he could seem so calm.

“I’m rich and in love and a little bit impulsive, is that so bad?” he smirked.  “Where do you wanna go, draga?  Rome?  Sydney?  Jakarta?  Nairobi?”

“...Luxembourg,” you blurted out.  

He chuckled a little, eyes sparkling.  “Why there?”

“First place I thought of.  Is that a good enough reason to want to go someplace?”

“It is to me,” he grinned.  “You get on the plane and get comfortable, I’ll tell the pilot where we’re going.”

“Okay,” you laughed.  “This is crazy, you know.”

“I know,” he nodded, taking your hand and guiding you up the stairs back onto the jet.

It wasn’t like you’d never experienced the concept of travel before, but it was still blowing your mind that you’d woken up in your (his) bed this morning and now, in the same day, you were spending your evening in box seats at the Luxembourg National Opera.  He picked out the gown you were wearing (only fair since he was picking up the tab) and at first you had worried you couldn’t pull it off, but the way he kept glancing over at you made you confident you looked just fine.

“You’re not watching the performance,” you whispered to him, leaning closer to his shoulder.

“You don’t really need to see an opera, do you?” he frowned.  “Can’t I just look at you?”

“These tickets cost an arm and a leg, you can look at me for free!” you hissed, but you softened a bit when his hand moved to rest on yours and he kissed your temple softly.

The two of you stayed that way for the rest of the performance, leaning on each other and holding hands.  Even when you'd been together this long, you still felt butterflies when he interlaced his fingers with yours.

When the show was over and the lights came up to a wave of applause, he looked at you with bright eyes and took your hand.

"Let's walk to the hotel, yes?" he suggested.  "Explore the proper way instead of a cab."

"I can't walk that far in these shoes," you frowned.

"I'll carry them for you!"

"I can't walk that far barefoot," you laughed.

"Then I'll carry you," he offered, extending his hand for you to take.

And that was how you ended up being carried piggyback through the streets of Luxembourg, across cobblestone that reflected the soft yellow glow of the street lamps and sconces, in the most expensive dress you'd ever worn.

Life is crazy like that, sometimes.

"You know, this place is a bit like Sokovia," he decided, "but with a better GDP and fewer churches."

"As I understand it, most of the world has a better GDP and fewer churches than Sokovia," you quipped.

"Hey!" he yelped in defense.  "Just because it's completely true doesn't mean you have any right to say it!"

You laughed, holding onto his neck tighter but trying your best not to inadvertently choke him.

"Typical of a Westerner to have something snarky to say while standing on the backs of hard-working Sokovians," he scoffed, "or, in this case, riding on the back of one hard-working Sokovian."

"Hard-working?  What exactly does a Baron do for work?" you interrogated.

"Uh, carry spoiled girlfriends around tiny European countries, for one," he enumerated, "and when we're not casually becoming distinguished professors in America, we have to manage the various projects of the estate… the Zemo family— which is just me, at this point— runs eleven orphanages.  I visit those sometimes and make sure they have everything they need."

"Okay, I don't know that I'd call that hard work, but it's very important so you get a pass," you decided.

"This is us," he announced he stopped walking.

"What's us?" you asked, looking around.

"This building, this is where we're staying," he explained as he set you down and made sure you were balancing right on your heels.

You let your jaw drop as you looked up at the building, admiring the carved stone face with its intricate detail, designs that evoked a certain prestige that just couldn't be found on American buildings.

"Wow," you nodded, "you really don't skimp on your last-minute random vacations, huh?"

"Not if I can avoid it," he shrugged, leading you inside.

For an exterior so gothic, the hotel’s lobby was modern and clean, though certainly not lacking in extravagant touches; you were a bit too tired to properly appreciate that, though, leaning up against his shoulder as he conversed with the front desk clerk in German in order to finish the check-in process.

The hotel had one of those elevators with mirrors on the walls, and a more energetic version of yourself might have noticed the fooling-around potential of the space, but instead you just let your eyes fall shut until you reached the correct floor.  Being an incredibly fancy place, the rooms had actual keys and not just RFID keycards— you thought Helmut looked quite regal in his opera tux, unlocking a mahogany door with a golden key.  Hard to imagine him in a windowless office and a messenger bag on his shoulder now, but you could remember falling for him in that state just the same.

He let you in first— a true gentleman, of course— and the moment the door to the room shut behind him, you groaned and flopped down onto the bed unceremoniously.  He, meanwhile, undid his bowtie and unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt before he laid down on his side by you, running his fingers over your back left exposed by the dress for a few moments before he pulled away.

“Darling?” he called to you softly, but you were too lazy to lift your head from where they were buried in the pillows.

“Mhmm?” you answered back, muffled.

“I…” he began, sighing before he started over.  “Well, nevermind.”

“What is it?” you pressed, turning your head over to see him— but then you saw his face, and the conflicted look it wore, and you sat up to lay closer to him.  “What’s wrong?” you asked gently, watched the way his hair fell into his face when he combed his fingers through it and glanced away from you.

“Draga, I must admit that I lied to you before about why I was returning home,” he spoke, and you were confused but said nothing.  You would’ve worried if it weren’t for the look on his face— calm, yet with something brewing in his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe.  But you trusted him.  When your brain would normally fill the silence with a thousand awful ideas of his real reason for his visit to Novi Grad, it was suddenly quiet.  “It wasn’t just for management of the estate… I had to retrieve something.”

He reached into his coat pocket, fishing out a small velvety box with red and gold along the edges.  Your heart either stopped, or beat harder than it ever had before; at a certain point the difference was irrelevant.  

“I know I should wait longer, for the perfect time, or even just any other time than when you’re not jet-lagged and I’m not so nervous I can’t even think, but…”

A sudden sigh fell from your lips when he opened the box and showed you the ornate ring inside— you couldn’t tell if it was aquamarine or blue diamonds but they shined brilliantly nonetheless.

“My mother wore this ring from the day my father gave it to her until the day she died,” he explained.  “I would like for you to wear it.”

Too stunned to do much else, you looked up at him blankly.

“I want you to be my wife,” he clarified, like he thought you didn’t understand what he was asking, and finally you snapped back to reality (as overwhelming as that reality was).  You smiled, even nearly laughing,  as you leaned in to almost press your lips to his— but when he leaned closer you kept him at bay with a hand on his collar.

“Say it again,” you requested coyly.

“You’re going to make me propose twice?” he realized, and you nodded as you bit your lip.  “I’ll say it a thousand times, draga: be my wife.”

“Two down, 998 to go,” you grinned, laughing when he growled and pulled you closer to bury his face in your neck.  You definitely noticed the longer beard when it tickled your skin with every kiss to your pulse.

“Be my wife, be my wife, my wife,” he cooed, casually starting to slip the ring on your finger before you dodged him.

“No no no, you haven’t said it a thousand times yet,” you chided him, “and I haven’t said ‘yes’ yet.”

“Oh, darling, don’t dare me to make you say ‘yes’ as if I don’t make you scream it out every night.”

And that’s exactly what he did: make you say yes a thousand times to a thousand proposals, pinning you down and showering you in love relentlessly.  For once you just accepted it; for once he didn’t feel guilty.  

In a certain sense it was sort of hasty, half-dressed and unexpected with him fumbling to hold your dress out of the way while you clung to his shirt and kissed him hungrily: but still, it was nothing less than sensual, due in part to every beautiful thing he whispered to you until you were too far gone to understand them.  He still kept going after that, even, just to feel the weight of his words on his tongue.  Just to promise himself to you whether you could hear him or not.

Who could say how far into the night it went?  That was the magical thing about it all— neither of you cared, neither of you worried or even thought twice about what time it was or if the sun would rise soon or if it would never rise at all and this was actually the beginning of the apocalypse.  It didn’t make a difference; because whether the world ended now or in a decade or in a billion years, you would be together for the rest of your lives.

We were young and in love and I knew nothing could stop us, you remembered something he said.  He said it like it was ridiculous, just a frivolous dream; and in retrospect, he may have been right about that specific situation, but now you understood why he had felt that way— you too felt that euphoric glow of knowing you were on the edge of something amazing.  Maybe not something perfect, but something that would work out for the best in the end.

When he was finally satisfied with how many times he had satisfied you and you fell asleep on his chest, he took the opportunity to slip the ring on your finger, admiring how beautiful your hand looked wearing it before he kissed the top of your head.

“Fits perfectly,” he whispered to you in spite of your unconsciousness.  “We’ll be so happy, draga… I promise.”