#so now i know i can’t shade with warm colors well

[bananacat76]

this was heck…….

[lovebugism]

“don’t you dare touch him” eddie x shy!reader

idk i need a situation where reader never really speaks up but she finally does when it comes to eddie because she loves him sm😭

thanks so much for your request! hope you like it!! — the one where eddie melts when his quiet gf sticks up for him in front of jason (shy!reader, fluff, 2.4k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

The drive from Forest Hills to the arcade is spent with Lucas and Dustin bickering in the backseat and Eddie’s hand on your thigh.

“It’s been two years, and you still can’t beat my high score, Dusty Bun,” the former boy taunts. The nickname spills like venom from his smiling face. “Just give it up, okay? It’s not happening.”

Dustin grins back at him. It’s more so mischievous than it is taunting. His deep blue eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “You are so gonna be eating your words by the end of the night. When we leave, Princess Daphne is gonna be mine, alright? For good.”

Their arguing becomes background noise. With your cheek lolled against the hand you’ve got propped against the window, you’re pulled into the wispy lilac cloud your gaze is so heavily fixated upon. The sky billows lavender against a sea of pink and golden orange — a summer sunset so vivid you can taste it.

The only thing keeping you grounded is Eddie’s palm on your knee, wide and warm and all-consuming. His thumb rubs against your skin so softly you think it must be absentminded. It feels like static shock, anyway. He laughs quietly to himself, and his fingers tremble gently against you. This time they squeeze you with a newfound intention as he brings you back to him.

“What do you think, babe?” Eddie asks, pink mouth spread in a pearly white grin. His chocolate eyes glimmer with the golden hour sun as his gaze flits between yours and the road. “Think Dusty Bun has a chance here?”

You nod, scrunched nose and squinted eyes, silent in your support for the curly-headed boy who’s still yelling over Lucas in the back of the van.

“What about me?” he presses. And because he knows better than to give his quiet girl anything other than a yes or no answer, he follows quickly, “You think today’s the day I finally beat your Space Invaders high score?”

A beat passes. The momentary silence is filled with arguing boys, old tires on older asphalt, and Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” spilling softly from the radio. A quiet smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You purse the mischievous expression to the side as you turn away from him again.

Your non-answer makes him laugh. It sounds exactly like the colors of the sunset.

His beat-up van jerks when he puts it into park. The door on the side squeaks as the kids file out of it. Eddie’s does too, but you can’t hear it over him telling you to “sit tight.” 

You wait patiently in the passenger seat like you always do, smiling to yourself as the boy rushes around the hood to open the door for you. The hinges screech in protest. His wild curls billow in the wind as he smiles. “C’mon, sunshine. Our palace awaits.”

The group of you stand beneath the spinning neon sign he parked next to — glowing orange and white beneath a setting sun. Someone calls from across the parking lot, “Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

Your heads snap in the direction of the painfully familiar voice. 

Jason and the rest of his abnormally tall goons stand outside the new gym that just opened on the strip. The dark, vacant building wedged between The Palace and Family Video was no longer as scary as it used to be now that it was occupied. You were just hoping it’d be something more exciting. Forcing arcade nerds and gym bros into one spot feels like a crime.

“And they brought little miss wallflower, too,” Jason lilts with his pretty smile and straight teeth. His blonde hair is a darker shade of brown, damp with half-dried sweat. His lean form is unnaturally built underneath his white tank top and basketball shorts. 

It isn’t any wonder why he turned out to be such a raging douchebag. 

Someone so perfect needed at least one flaw.

“The gang’s all here, huh?” one of his other friends — Andy, you think — concurs from behind him, always in the boy’s shadow.

“Like what you see, fellas?” Eddie calls out from across the slab of pavement separating the group of you. He’ll never turn down an opportunity to take the piss out of the so-called jocks, all muscle and no brain. 

“What do we do when those assholes give us hell?” he’d often ask when you’ve had a particularly shitty day with them. “We give ‘em hell right back.”

Jason’s thin lips curl into a more mischievous smirk. His blue eyes are lighter in the golden sunlight, and they twinkle beneath the neon signs as he looks you up and down. “Yeah, actually,” he hums with his unabashed ogling. “I do.”

Mike’s lanky legs sidestep to stand ahead of you. He does it so swiftly, so instinctually, you don’t think he even really meant to do it. Despite the raven-haired boy halfway covering you, you cross your arms over your torso in a further attempt to keep yourself hidden. 

You feel so suddenly exposed in your frilly floral sundress — especially considering the only thing you wear to school is baggy jeans and baggier sweaters. You feel like you might as well be naked standing in front of them just now.

The younger boys stand on high alert as Eddie walks the short distance to Jason. The brief journey is made quicker when the blonde boy strides to meet him halfway. It’s a high school sort of standoff — neither particularly wanting to get physical because the real-life repercussions aren’t worth it. They just want to see who can piss each other off the most.

“She is pretty, isn’t she?” Eddie concedes with a grin, flashing you a brief glance over his shoulder. He turns away quickly at the sight of your wide, pleading eyes. He scrunches his nose in feigned sympathy. “I bet you’re real jealous, huh? Especially now that you’ve got nothing but your right hand keeping you company ever since Chrissy dumped your ass.”

“Watch it,” Jason warns through gritted teeth.

“I think I saw her riding around last week with Harrington, actually.”

The blonde boy’s sneakers scuff against the concrete as he takes a daring step closer. His piercing stare never wavers. “Don’t talk about Chrissy.”

“Don’t talk about my girl, and I won’t talk about yours,” Eddie retorts in lilt. And then, because he can’t help but twist the knife, he tilts his head to his shoulder and continues. “Well, I guess she’s not really yours anymore, is she?”

“I said don’t talk about Chrissy!” Jason repeats, louder than before, when he lets his anger get the best of him. One hand shoots up to shove at Eddie’s chest, using only enough force to make the boy stumble slightly back. 

While Dustin, Lucas, and Mike gear up for a fight, Eddie only laughs in response — big, boisterous, and boyish.

You don’t even realize you’re stepping in front of the group until you’re already doing it. The words seem to fly from your mouth without you even thinking about them. “Don’t touch him!” you shout. 

And even though it wasn’t particularly loud, it quiets in the mindless bickering all at once. Everyone turns to gape at you — Jason, Andy, Dustin, Eddie. Everyone is equally surprised by your outburst. Because you don’t speak. Ever. At least, not if you can help it. 

And it’s not because you don’t have anything to say, because you do. It’s just that your brain works too much, and your mouth can’t keep up with it sometimes. It’s easier just to be silent.

That’s what you’ve been known for ever since you were little. You went through all of it — the bullying, the sad eyes, the talks with teachers, the ‘is everything alright at home’s. Everything was fine, for the most part. Your childhood was equally as middling as everyone else’s. You just had a harder time being human than most people.

Jason smiles again, amused by your warning. “What was that, sweetheart?”

You swallow through a tightening throat. Your sweaty hands clench into balls at your sides. The words come out quieter than before, but no less meaningful. “I said… Don’t touch him.”

“Oh, so she does speak. Here I thought no one ever taught you how to,” the blonde boy laughs. You feel disgusting when his attention settles solely upon you. The lingering sick feeling is eclipsed by your gratitude that Eddie’s no longer in his line of fire. “I’m gonna be honest… I thought you were cuter when you were quiet.”

You don’t know what he means by that. You can’t tell if he’s being genuine, or if he thinks you care enough about what he thinks to slink back into your shell.

“Leave Eddie alone,” you retort drily.

He snorts. “Yeah? Or what?”

There’s a thousand words you want to say. You open your mouth to spit all of them at the boy across from you, but nothing comes out.

“Yeah,” Jason laughs at your silence. “That’s what I thought.”

You stand your ground when he walks towards you. His strides are slow and menacing, like he’s expecting you to back away. You might’ve if you were anywhere else — if Eddie wasn’t a couple feet away and the rest of your friends weren’t crowding behind you. You’re made somehow braver by their presence.

“This is a really cute dress, though, sweetheart,” the blonde boy compliments with a thin smirk. “You should dress like this more often. You know what? You’d really fit in at the strip club downtown— what’s it called?”

“Pink Paradise,” Andy answers without missing a beat.

Jason smacks his lips against his teeth. “That’s the one.”

“Is that the one your mom works at?” you wonder with your arms crossed over your chest. Your head tilts to your shoulder as you squint at him. “Is she still giving those two-for-one discounts?” 

Jason’s confidence stutters at your biting reply — even more so by the choked-back laughter accompanying it. Your boys don’t bother to hide their humored giggles, though the basketball team covers theirs by coughing into their fists.

“Ooh. I didn’t know you had such a much on you,” the blonde lilts as his blue eyes narrow. “I’m like… fifty percent more attracted to you now.”

“Leave Eddie alone,” you deadpan once more. “And go be a douchebag somewhere else.”

One of his friends breaks free from the pack. He’s tall, thin, and toned. He’s got the same haircut as Lucas: compact curls, squared off on the sides. You know him — Patrick McKinney. He’s the only one of Jason’s friends that was actually nice to you. Or, at the very least, he wasn’t a total asshole.

“Let’s go, man,” the boy ushers, nudging at Jason’s bicep. “Let’s go shoot some hoops or something. This isn’t worth it.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Oh, please— the only shooting Jason Carver does is into a kleenex. It’s why you were benched all last season.”

“I twisted my ankle!” the blonde boy defends, sounding weak and pathetic beneath the chorus of laughter as Patrick drags him away.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you mutter, perhaps too quiet for him to hear, as Lucas pulls at your forearm to guide you in the other direction. His touch is still gentle — it would be uncharacteristic of him to be rough with you. It would also be a terrible idea with Eddie just a few paces behind the both of you.

The walk to The Palace is a silent one. There’s too much to say, and everyone’s just a little too amazed to say it. Eddie, however, never had a hard time killing a quiet. He rushes on long legs to match your quick strides, reaching you rather easily. 

“Hey, hey, hey— you okay, babe?” the worried boy wonders. He takes a gentle hold of your wrists when you reach the awning beneath the arcade. His chocolate gaze flits attentively over your form, nowhere near as leering as Jason had been. 

He can tell by your heaving chest and glassy eyes that you’re a little overwhelmed. When he takes your face in his hands, he finds that your cheeks are burning, too.

You nod into his warm palms in silent reply, back in the comfort of your shell all over again.

“What’d you do that for, huh?” Eddie singsongs with a quiet laugh. His thumb dances over your cheekbones as he grins at you. “You know I don’t like you getting involved with those assholes.”

“They don’t get to talk to you like that… Or put their hands on you,” you mutter. Despite your soft tone, Eddie can see the fury flashing in your eyes, getting angry about it all over again.

His smile widens — proud and hopelessly in love with you. “No. They don’t. Especially not with my girl around, huh?”

“Nope,” you murmur, popping the p. A sheepish grin pulls at your mouth, equally as proud and in love.

Eddie leans down to kiss you, guiding your mouth to his with the hands cupping your jaw. It’s innocuously chaste, being that you’re still standing in a public parking lot. You could never quite stomach the attention of PDA, anyway. His pink lips lock with yours in a fleeting peck, and his arms wrap around you a second later.

He smothers you into his chest, and you revel in every second of it. He smells like cigarette smoke and the cologne he tried to cover it up with. He smells like a home you could live in forever. 

You smile into the thrifted Blondie tee you got him — which he happily accepted because he loves you (even though he hates Blondie). He presses a kiss into your hair and smushes his nose into the crown of it as he laughs.

“‘Is that the one your mom works at?’” Eddie repeats with a soft chuckle, chest swelling with pride once more. “God, babe. That’s good.”

“Shut up…” you murmur.

“I’m serious! I didn’t know you were such a good smack-talker! I think you might be a genius, actually.”

“Don’t,” you grouse with a lighthearted scowl. You pull away from him only slightly — enough for him to put your face back in his hands again. You feel safest there, even if you are pouting up at him.

“You’re so cute,” the boy muses with a beam. His eyes glimmer like a sea of chocolate syrup, melting with all the love he has for you. “You’re like a cinnamon roll. A cinnamon roll that could bite people.”

“That’s exactly what I am,” you monotone and try your best not to smile.

Eddie couldn’t hide his grin if he tried. “And that’s exactly why I love you.”

[paperibbon]

ink stained hand (will you hold it?)

chapter i: bookstore girls pairing: poly!feysand x reader series sum. A bookseller’s simple life turns upside down when she becomes fast companions of the Night Court’s Inner Circle. When she develops feelings for the most powerful couple in Prythian, how will she get over the golden thread of fate that pulls them ever so far apart?

The sun was high in the sky, and the sweat stuck to the back of your shirt with a vengeance, plastering the material to you like a second skin. As forgiving and endearing as summer was, children laughing in the streets, people bustling about in sheer, bright colors, the heat could be killer.

Especially waiting in lines like these. 

The queue snaked around the block, everyone from fae that lived on farmland outside of Velaris, to shopkeepers, to families of all shapes and sizes. You’d thought the heat might thin it out a bit, maybe send some people to find shelter and shade, to stand in front of an icebox maybe; but alas. It was just as long as it was a few hours ago. You clutched the papers you’d written up months prior to your chest, lifting your hair from your neck in an attempt to elicit some sort of cooling effect.

You, like many, many others were grateful to your High Lord, and newly minted High Lady for these meetings. Even if not everything was fixed, most people walked out with a respect you were sure you couldn’t say other courts held for their rulers. And the papers you’d slaved over, finding just the right words to propose your idea, well, you hoped they’d hear you out, if nothing else.

Smoothing down the front of your skirts, you surveyed the people in front of you. Three bodies. Three people. Three more appointments to suffer in the heat until you were face-to-face with people who could grant your dreams, or crush them kindly in their fists. Your heart stuttered, thick, humid air winding its way through your nose, and out. Two. Then, the curly haired fae with a sour expression on her pale blue face that had stood before you for the past three hours marched into the heavy open doors, and you were twisting your fingers in flighty anticipation. You couldn’t hear her voice, even at your proximity, and it relieved something in you to know that this wouldn’t leave this room. Your sorry request, your whimsical fantasy would stay stuck in the air between your High Lady, High Lord, and you.

The guard positioned at the gate gave you a wry smile, a rosy hue to her cheeks, the sweat slicking her orange hair to her brow. You were sure you looked similar, frazzled and sweaty, sickeningly anxious and delighted all at the same time.

“You’ll be fine.” Her voice was accented lightly, like nothing you’d ever heard before. You grew up here, in the Night Court, barely a child when Amarantha terrorized the land, now, a fully grown female with stars in her eyes.

You nodded your thanks. She simply smiled wider.

When the doors opened again and the fae from before walked out, a wind flirted across your cheeks curling in your hair. A greeting.

“First door on your left. Can’t miss it.” A smooth wink, and the door thumped shut behind you. 

The marble tiling was smooth, dark, and flecked with silver. How Night Court. You couldn’t stop your head from swiveling as you traversed the hall, ornate art hung on either side, a show of wealth, of power. You recognized some of the scenes, the High Lady fearlessly facing off against Hybern’s forces at the Rainbow, the Night Court’s general sweeping low onto the battlefield, the Lady’s sister, fearsome, cloaked in silver flames like a phoenix. Your eyes shifted towards the open doorway, thick wooden carvings of an animal you couldn’t place, scales expertly carved, fangs and talons almost as sharp as you’d imagine the creature carried in real life. Absently, your hand curled around a claw jutting from the frame, the stable wood almost warm beneath your fingers.

“Admiring the woodworking?” A soft voice cut through the silence, and you turned, abruptly, eyes wide. 

“I’m so sorry.” You stuttered, the words falling out without a thought. The High Lady was standing, a stunning lilac dress tailored to her form, golden and silver stars stitched delicately in sporadic patterns. A golden circlet, plain, yet stately sat at her raised brows, warm sea blue eyes crinkled into a smile. You balked, face pinching into an expression that could only be described as shameful, hands twisting in your old linen skirt, the drab color sticking out like a sore thumb. The High Lord was absent, the chair next to hers empty, but you felt no relief from that. The High Lady was just as imposing.

“Don’t be.” A flick of her wrist towards the chair across from them sent you into action, and you lowered yourself into the plush seat. “Would you like anything to drink or eat? How long have you been out there?”

Her voice seemed too perfect, too hypnotic for your ears. You found yourself blinking, twice, three times before you registered her question.

“I’m okay, truly.” Food would make you barf, so bad move there. From the looks of this place, any glass they’d offer you was likely three times the sum of your rent, and your shaking hands would send it shattering across the floor. “And not long, my lady.”

“Hm.” The sound was low, like the rumble of the ground beneath your feet, and your head felt inclined to dip. The High Lord was just as intimidating as you’d expected; dressed in all black, a matching circlet to his mate’s glinted in the faelight, his hands folded neatly into his pockets. “We don’t take kindly to liars.”

The expression that flickered across your face must have been comically scared, from the way the Lady’s eyes hardened to sheer ice.

“Rhys.” The lovely voice, the bells you would follow to the ends of the earth, possibly, shot out like a crop. 

The High Lord leveled you with a look that would have sent males twice your age running for the hills, and you thought about it. You considered hiking your skirts up, tucking your pitiful tail between your legs, and dashing out of here as fast as your legs could carry you. Instead, you smoothed out the papers in your hands, lowered your gaze, and began to read from the page.

“Thank you for your audience.” You began, eyes tracking your scribbling. “I wanted to first extend my gratitude for not only this moment, but the neverending support that you both have shown your people. I thank you for that.” A glance up, and your eyes connected with the starflecked violet gaze of your High Lord. Something in your gut twisted violently at his lowered brow, and your hand passed briefly over where your heart titered in your chest. “I here to ask for something that may be small to you, but is quite big to me.”

The rest of the words bleed together on the page in front of you, and with a sigh, you fold the paper along the edges, and cover the square with your palms. You know what you want, it swirls in your gut, tugs on your heart. It’s hanging from the biggest and brightest star, and this is the only chance you might have to dream for it, to hope that it might, one day, be real, might be a whisper of fruition eddying towards your open arms. 

“I’ve dreamed for my whole life that one day, I might make a difference. That someday, something might make me matter to someone.” Your voice teetered on breaking. “My mother and father are long gone. I have no brothers, no sisters. I don’t have many friends to speak of, and I’m sure I speak of them more than they speak of me. What I’m asking for is stupid, but to me, it’s a dream.” A saccharine smile aimed at your twisting hands, before your head pulls back to finally look at the two most powerful people you’ve ever known. “Have you ever had stupid dreams?”

The question hangs in the air like a feather. Your fingers flex, like you might reach out and snatch it back.

“No dream is stupid.” The High Lord’s eyes blink with stars. It’s mesmerizing. It’s terrifying. His gaze doesn’t stray from you, and it spreads a heat across the tip of your nose, peaking your ears. 

You pick at the edge of the paper neatly pressed to your thighs, peeling a corner back, folding it on the edge, and ripping along the seam as you swish your thoughts around in your head.

“This one might be.” Your smile is wistful, if not sad, like a flower blowing in the cold wind of winter, the laughter of a grown child. 

The scrape of a chair, and your High Lady has inched ever so close to you, her knees almost touching yours, the hazy purple gauze flirting against the skin of her legs as she shifts. It makes your heart beat that much quicker, her beauty, her close proximity, the power you feel rolling off her. You’ve been caught in storms before, but she’s like lightning itself. Soft, strong hands cup yours, and you almost jerk back out of sheer surprise, but the quirk of her lips makes your own soften into a smile.

“It’s okay to wish for silly things.” 

Years ago, you might have agreed with her.

Today, you aren’t so sure.

“High Lady, High Lord,” You say, eyes stuck on a freckle at the base of her thumb, tracing the lines of the jet black tattoo that curls up her wrist. “I want to find purpose.”

You could hear a pin drop.

The High Lady’s eyes glazed over, the stormy sea calming to a rolling fog. Daring a glance at the High Lord, you noticed a similar look in his eyes, the purple sky a calming shade of lilac, his eyes unfocused. You didn’t dare breathe, catching a gasp in your chest when they both finally resurfaced, a sharp snap in their gaze like you’d clicked your fingers for their attention. It was odd to have such resounding attention from two people who could crush the world around you with a blink, who could kill you without batting an eye. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, but you weren’t sure if it was terror, or great awe.

“That’s your wish?” The High Lord’s voice is startling all of a sudden, though you know it shouldn’t be. You blink, once, twice, and then nod, a simple strong shake of your head.

“That’s my wish.” You feel pitiful as you shrug your shoulders, but the High Lady squeezes your hands in hers. “I understand if you can’t grant it, I do. I greatly understand. In fact, I know you probably won’t be able to. And that’s alright with me. I’m just glad you’ve listened.”  It’s lighter than the rest of your conversation, the almost laughing tone your voice takes on. You pull back from the hands on top of yours, nodding gratefully. You hope you look sincere as you lower your head in a makeshift bow. “Thank you for that. For your hearts.”

You stood, not waiting for dismissal, which might have been a stupid decision. It might have cost you more than just pure embarrassment, the flush taking on a different, less welcome heat as it cloaked your shoulders and pressed into your chest. You did a poor curtsy, out of nothing more than a sorry excuse for respect to the two, and fled the room without a glance in either direction, even as something molten, something tight in your chest tugged away at you.

You didn’t even realize in your haste, the paper you’d meticulously, ever-so-carefully tended to for the last months had toppled to the floor, scrawled with sprawling words. 

Your wish.

-

The sun was still hot and high in the sky as you slunk into the shop, and the book you were using as a fan was doing nothing to combat the heat. Leaned against the entryway, holding the hair off the back of your neck and rapidly flapping the flimsy romance novel in your hand in hopes that even the smallest breeze would cool you down. The magic that typically kept the shop well ventilated was on the fritz, sending wayward gusts of air that ruffled through the pages on hand before stopping altogether, levitating teacups and coffee mugs in the air before dropping them and sending any liquid spilling onto the floor, opening and closing the curtains at will. 

“Hi, lovely!” The seamstress across the way waved at you with a lacy handkerchief, brown hair piled high on her head, a sheen of sweat dotted across her brow and smearing the silvery make-up she’d carefully used to decorate her eyes. 

“Hi, Dia.” You raised the book in greeting, letting your  hair drop from your hand. She sent you  a smile in greeting before escaping inside her shop, the wooden sign in her window swinging proudly from CLOSED to OPEN. 

With a great sigh, you tipped your head back and listened to the busy street with shut eyes. Children squealed on the street, couples tittered back and forth. Some called your name in greeting, and you waved lazily, eyes still shut, lulled into a sense of hazy drowsiness. Your flushed cheek pressed into the door sleepily, until a wet, cold object was shoved under your collar. 

Eyes flying open, the book fell to the floor, hands flinging to the back of your shirt, hopping from one foot to the next. Finally, the ice cube dropped from your dress to the floor, and you whirled on the culprit. 

“Sammy!” The accused giggled, eyes slit in amused mischief. “You pest!” 

Sammy was the delivery boy, and the bane of your existence. He was a child, only seventeen, with a boyish roundness to his cheeks and an inane personality that would make the sweetest person in Prythian think about bashing him on the head once or twice. It was his mission to make every day you lived harder than the last, but his mother, the owner of the neighboring bakery, thought it was because he fancied you a tad. You couldn’t tell if she was having a laugh, or had too much faith in her only child. You were much too old for him anyways.

“Who said I even did anything?” His blue lips pulled into a pout, his ears flicked and his red eyes widened like that of a street dog. “Mean, mean girl.”

Setting your jaw and bending down to swipe the book from the floor and make your way into the shop, you shot him a mean glare, something to make flowers wither, and little boys cry. He was standing by the back door, a sure sign that a shipment was docked, tightening the string on the front of his sleeveless tunic. Sliding behind the counter, leaving the book on the top, you moved around him to peer at what he’d delivered. 

It was a small box, unusual, but not uncommon, with a dainty golden lock holding it shut. You tilted your head around the boy, trying to get a better look at the thing. It was probably a special edition for one of our wealthier clients, but you hadn’t seen any sort of order like that go through in months, hadn’t heard a whisper of what this could even be. Without thinking, you started towards it out of sheer curiosity, but Sammy stepped in front of it with a sharp toothed grin and held his hand out.

“Payment first, please.” 

You rolled your eyes so hard, the planet did another spin.

“Greedy.”

Shouldering around him, you made your way to the lockbox and shook out a few gold pieces. His palm was cold and damp when you passed them over to him, and with a smirk like an alley cat, he disappeared down the alley and left you with the mysterious package. 

The box was ornate and wooden, the lock glinting on the outside with the winking of the sun through the windows. Approaching it with cautious curiosity, you reached out and grasped the lock, feeling its cool metal under my fingertips. Giving it a good tug, your feet slid out from under you, sending you sprawling to the floor in an instant; the box was heavy - like it was filled with a million rocks, ten ton weights, and a heavy book. Stretching your leg out towards the thing, you nudged it with the tip of your toe, hoping for some kind of movement but, alas - nothing. Abandoning caution, your leg reeled back and kicked the thing as hard as you could, only to be met with searing pain that reverberated through the bones of your shin. With a resigned huff,  you stood, brushing off dust from your skirt, and left it behind the counter with another, less fierce, more defiant kick for good measure.

Stupid thing. 

The box seemed to respond, the smallest of noises —the faint shuffle of the lock settling into place. It wasn't laughter, of course, but in that moment, it might as well have been. 

The day was sluggish and hot into the afternoon. Little to no customers stopped in, and Elias, the owner of the store, had left me alone for the morning. You did your duties; swept the aisles aimlessly, fronted all the books in the history section, wiped the counters at the tea stand. You even ventured to organize the pillows and blankets in the reading section, which was a loathsome task due to the sheer number of them littered about. Finally, when the sun was high in the sky with no promise of a cloud, Reana, the only other worker at the shop, slunk into the shop. 

Her inky hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and the clothes she wore were thin and airy, a short cream top with no straps, and a loose matching skirt that showed off a fair bit of her long legs. Her tanned skin was flushed with the heat, and her glasses sat low on her nose, the chain that held them along her neck softly clinking against itself.  

“I am sweating through every layer of clothing.” Her voice was scratchy, like smoke on a foggy day.

“Elias needs to re-up these stupid wards before I try myself.” Crossing the room from the little nook you’d been tidying up, you offered her a smile as a greeting. 

“Oh, don’t do that to us.” She snorted. With a flick of her hand, the tea stand bustled to life. “The last time you tried, it set us back decades.”

She was exaggerating, of course. The last time you’d tried to enforce the feeble wards on the store, it’d knocked every book out of the shelves and broken almost every mug and cup in sight. Your magic was not strong, it wasn’t practiced, and it sure as the Mother wasn’t controlled.

“Can you make some cold drinks? Maybe?” You plopped yourself down on a rickety red stool, chipped and discolored from use. “Milk tea would be lovely.”

Reana works the tea and coffee portion of the shop. While you could make an adequate cup, she was versed in fancy drinks and conversation; two things you did not have the skillset for. Her head dipped as she moved towards the counter, working meticulously to pull together the things she needed. Each movement was a choreographed dance, as she deftly poured and mixed, her fingers moving with the precision of a seamstress. The glasses sitting on her nose fogged up as she leaned down to sniff the spiced pot of tea on her small stove. She set the milky drink in front of you, the icey glass heavenly against my hands as you sipped at it casually, lolling my head back and forth as you drank. As the both of you sat in silence, the ambient sounds of the bustling street outside drifted in through the open window, mingling with the soft clink of ice cubes in our glasses. 

Gratefully, she doesn’t ask about the meeting you had today. Gratefully, she keeps her eyes trained on her tasks. Gratefully, you don’t have to explain anything to her.

Until…

Until the bell on the front door rings, and in steps the High Lord, the paper you’d apparently forgotten pinched between his thumb and his forefinger, the smile of a jester playing across his lips.

“Hello,” Voice like smooth, rich coffee colors the air. “I believe you’ve forgotten something.”

[moonstruckme]

babe you’ve got me obsessed with doctor remus!

can i request a drabble where reader gets into like a car accident and has been taken into a&e with like mid/severe injuries and remus has been assigned to treat her?

if not then that’s fine! love your work bae 🎀

Hi gorgeous! Thank you for requesting (I'm obsessed with him too) :)

cw: hospital

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 716 words

The nurse leaves, and you think you might finally get more than five seconds to yourself but then the curtain pulls back again, a tall doctor taking her place. You’ve been able to feel your heartbeat pulsing through every inch of you since you’d stumbled out of your smoking car, and this new man doesn’t help matters. 

He’s lovely. With a face smattered with warm freckles and silvery scars and a mop of brown hair that looks like it’s never once been brushed, this is the kind of person who would fluster you on a normal day. Now, you don’t even know the word to describe the effect he has on you. 

He has to ask his question a second time before you hear it. 

“Have you had allergic reactions to any medications?” 

You blink. It still feels like reality is moving at twice its usual speed. You don’t know if it’s just you shaking, but it feels like the whole room. “Uh, no. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright.” The doctor’s voice is businesslike but kind, with a Welsh lilt. He flips a page on his clipboard. “Anything we weren’t able to address in the ambulance? Any new aches and pains?” 

“I—I don’t think so.” 

He lowers the clipboard slightly, looking at you. His eyes are a lightish brown color, like honey left too long in the sun. “Has anyone talked you through grounding exercises?” 

You feel your brow wrinkle. “What?” 

He almost smiles. “I’ll take that for a no.” He sets down his clipboard on the edge of your bed, pulling up a rolling chair and sitting down in front of you. “I’m going to have you breathe with me for a minute, alright, sweetheart?” 

It’s not in your nature to contradict professionals, but you feel your head shaking as if from somewhere outside of yourself. “Why?” you ask. “Aren’t there more important things?” 

“There are still things left to do,” he allows, seeming unaffected by your questioning, “but you’re stable. It’s nothing that can’t wait for a few minutes, and it’s important that you’re calm so you can think properly.” He takes your hands in his, ignoring the odd padding of the splint around your broken wrist and holding your fingertips instead. “All I need from you is for you to copy my breathing. Can you do that for me?” 

You nod. As he starts to talk you through it, your eyes begin to sting, an effect of his gentle tone or the respite your body has been craving or both. Your doctor’s expression doesn’t change when he sees the silver lining your eyes, but he gives your fingertips a light squeeze. 

“Okay, in for eight this time,” he says in that lulling voice. “Good job, just keep at it.” 

You manage to breathe in for long enough to satisfy him, and after the exhale he drops your hands. 

“Well done,” he murmurs, mindful of the small cuts on your face as he thumbs away your tears. “Are you feeling a bit better?” 

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. The word comes out like a sigh, and his lip curves softly at the plain relief in the sound. 

“Happy to hear it. You were right earlier, there’s still plenty left to do,” he says, expression sombering somewhat as he looks at you intently, “but if you ever need a break, you tell me or someone else, okay? I don’t want you suffering in silence.” 

“Okay.” You wet your lips, feeling much more solid than you had a few minutes before. The world has slowed to its regular speed. “Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.” 

He smiles, which is altogether too charming for a place like this. It makes the long scar going across his cheek crinkle slightly and you could swear his eyes lighten a shade. “Well, see, that’s how I know you weren’t really with me when you came in, because we’ve already been introduced.” His expression lets you know he hasn’t taken any offense, but your face still heats at your impoliteness. “It’s Doctor Lupin, but you can call me Remus.” 

Something in you rings at this new knowledge, like a tuning fork has been struck. Remus, your consciousness echoes quietly. 

His smile softens. “We’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other today.”

[onlyhereforpazzi]

Happy Birthday P.

Author note: This is late but we all know life gets hard and well I am finally ready to share this with you all.

Word count: 1373

Warning: Fluff smut slight cursing.

Smut warnings

The morning sun streamed through the window, illuminating the cozy apartment shared by Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd. Today was a day of celebration—Paige’s birthday! Azzi had been planning a surprise for weeks, and she was eager to make it special.

As Paige rolled out of bed, she was greeted by the delicious aroma of freshly baked muffins. Intrigued, she quickly got dressed and made her way to the kitchen. There, she found Azzi, wearing a bright yellow apron, bustling around with a smile that could light up the room.

“Happy birthday, Paige!” Azzi exclaimed, turning to face her with a tray of warm muffins. “I made your favorite—blueberry!”

Paige’s heart swelled with joy. “You’re the best, Azzi! This is amazing!” She took a muffin and bit into it, savoring the sweet and tangy flavor. “Mmm, these are perfect!”

After breakfast, Azzi led Paige to the living room, where she had decorated the space with colorful balloons and a big banner that read “Happy Birthday, Paige!” The sight made Paige’s heart flutter. “You really went all out!” she said, beaming.

“Only the best for my favorite person,” Azzi replied, her cheeks slightly pink. “Now, I have a surprise for you. Are you ready?”

“Absolutely!” Paige said, her excitement bubbling over.

Azzi handed Paige a blindfold. “Trust me, okay? No peeking!”

Paige giggled but complied, allowing Azzi to guide her outside. The cool breeze brushed against her skin as they walked. “Where are we going?” Paige asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Just a little further…” Azzi said, her voice filled with delight.

After a short walk, Azzi stopped and gently removed the blindfold. Paige blinked against the sunlight and gasped at the sight before her. They were at a beautiful park, filled with vibrant flowers and a small picnic setup under a shady tree. A cozy blanket was spread out, surrounded by a basket filled with treats and a small cake adorned with candles.

“Wow, Azzi! This is incredible!” Paige exclaimed, her heart racing with happiness.

“I wanted to do something special for you,” Azzi said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Let’s celebrate!”

They settled onto the blanket, enjoying the delicious spread that Azzi had prepared. As they laughed and shared stories, the atmosphere felt magical. Paige couldn’t help but admire how thoughtful Azzi had been, and how much she cherished their time together.

After finishing their picnic, Azzi pulled out the cake. “Okay, make a wish!” she said, lighting the candles.

Paige closed her eyes and made her wish, then blew out the candles. “What did you wish for?” Azzi asked playfully.

“I can’t tell you! It won’t come true,” Paige replied with a teasing smile.

“Fine, I’ll let it slide this time,” Azzi said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “But you owe me!”

They spent the afternoon playing games, taking photos, and enjoying each other’s company. As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden light over the park, Paige felt a wave of gratitude wash over her.

“Azzi, thank you for today. It’s been the best birthday ever,” Paige said sincerely, looking into Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi smiled softly, her gaze steady. “I’m so glad you’re happy. You deserve the world, Paige.”

Paige felt her heart race, realizing how much Azzi meant to her. “You make me so happy, Azzi. I don’t think I could have asked for a better friend… or a better day.”

Azzi’s expression softened, and she reached for Paige’s hand. “Paige, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

“What is it?” Paige asked, her heart pounding.

“I… I love you. I really do. More than just as a friend,” Azzi confessed, her cheeks turning a shade of pink.

Paige felt a rush of warmth and joy. “I love you too, Azzi! I’ve felt this way for a while now, but I didn’t know how to say it.”

In that moment, the world around them faded away, and all that mattered was the connection they shared. They leaned in closer, their hearts racing, and shared a sweet, tender kiss under the setting sun.

As they pulled away, both of them grinned, feeling lighter than air. “Happy birthday, Paige,” Azzi said, her voice filled with warmth.

“Best birthday ever,” Paige replied, her heart full of love and happiness as they sat together, hand in hand.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Paige looked at Azzi, her eyes sparkling. “So, what now? Do we just sit here and bask in our newfound love?”

Azzi chuckled, her laughter like music to Paige’s ears. “Well, I have a few more surprises up my sleeve if you’re up for it!”

“More surprises? You’ve already done so much!” Paige said, her curiosity piqued.

“Just a little something to make this day even more memorable,” Azzi said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “I thought we could go to that little ice cream shop you love. You know, the one with the giant sundae?”

Paige’s face lit up. “Oh, I’m definitely in for that! Let’s go!”

They packed up their picnic and made their way to the ice cream shop, laughing and teasing each other along the way. Once they arrived, they stood in front of the colorful menu, eyes wide with excitement.

“What are you getting?” Azzi asked, glancing at Paige.

“I think I’ll go for the triple chocolate fudge sundae,” Paige declared, her mouth watering at the thought.

“Bold choice! I’m going for the classic strawberry shortcake,” Azzi replied, her smile contagious.

After placing their orders, they found a cozy spot outside to enjoy their treats. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the stars began to twinkle in the night sky. They shared their sundaes, feeding each other bites and giggling at the whipped cream that occasionally ended up on their noses.

“This is perfect,” Paige said, her heart swelling with happiness. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

Azzi looked at her, sincerity in her eyes. “You make every day better, Paige. I’ve always admired your passion and determination. You inspire me.”

Paige felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “You inspire me too, Azzi. I don’t think I would be the player I am without your support and friendship.”

As they finished their sundaes, Azzi leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You know, I’ve always dreamed of sharing moments like this with someone special. I never expected that someone would be you.”

Paige’s heart raced at Azzi’s words. “Me too. I’ve always felt a connection with you that goes beyond friendship. It’s like we were meant to find each other.”

With a shared look of love and care for eachother. Eventually they return to Paige’s apartment, “So what else do you wanna do, birthday girl?” Azzi asks as she stares at the tall blonde’s blue eyes. “I wouldn’t mind a birthday make out session..” The blonde grinned, planting her hands on the younger girl's hips before kissing her slowly, the dark skinned girl returned the kiss and they began their way to Paige’s bedroom. *Time skip like 15 minutes homie* “Mmm Azzi yeah..” Paige groaned as she stared down at the younger girl's head between her thighs and her hands in her curly black hair, “so good yeah..” Her hips buck up to please herself, grinding into the girl's face. Azzi pulled her head back and spat gently before continuing. “Going come Az..” “Do it P.” Azzi mumbled against her folds, and so Paige did she release on Azzi’s tongue. Azzi came up for air, some cum on that button like that nose Paige loved.

Paige wiped it off and kissed her nose before pulling down the shorts of the younger girl rubbing her clit softly as she kissed her lips in chaste (is that a real word?) quick kisses. Eventually Azzi begged enough for Paige to slip a finger in teasing before a second. She curled her fingers into the younger girl smirking as her moans filled the room. Soon a third finger joined the dance and the rest is history.

“Happy birthday P.” Assistant mumble before hiding her head in the arms of Paige’s to tired to care.

—--------------------------—------------------------

Thank you for reading, sorry for the delay again. I hope this finds you well. Just because Kamala lost doesn’t mean we need to lose you too. 

[luvtak]

be my valentine, hhj x reader

✧ genre/tw brain melting fluff, just a little moment of being in love with hyunjin and accidently getting covered in paint, kissing, petnames, unedited.

✧ w/c 1156

✧ a/n ginger write something other than fluff challenged: failed. i wrote this inspired by the song valentine by inhaler and the way it makes me feel as well as the fact that hyunie deserves to have a very sweet love story <3 i hope you like it!!

Looking at him was as painful as the song’s he chose: he was so bright and incandescent that even in small domestic moments like this one,  filled your life with an almost harmful glow. Like a star, he was burning fast and bright and sometimes it felt like he would burn right through you. 

He was gorgeous and funny, and he was all yours. 

It’s an interesting thought, the fact that this independent and lone star would see you and pick you out of a million souls. An unforgettable moment, the way his eyes glanced down at you when he asked to dance–sultry and cool, and unbelievably sweet. 

He looks a bit like that now; paint covering his lifted hands, sweeping over the plains of his cheek to swipe the dark hair out of his eyes. Glancing at you over his painting, a work in progress you were not allowed to see–a valentines present, he said. The look gleaming off him pressed an ache right into your tummy.

 Gazing at him always felt like a gut punch; A tornado of butterflies reaching from his outstretched hands right into your middle. 

The music playing from his phone is melancholy, a slight betrayal to the smile eclipsing his lovely face. As it plays, he sings along, following the woeful melody with that out of place grin. 

“Hyunie, why are you always listening to such sad songs?” it’s a question you’ve asked a hundred times, and always received a different answer, but this time he only shrugs. You know it's hard for him to respond when he’s painting–focused only on the glide of his brush and the mixing of colors. Reds, blues, greens, etc. shades ranging everywhere from chartreuse to periwinkle, mixing and matching with a wave of his hand. 

“Sad songs are only sad if you are,” he answers late. “Like this one, only the melody is sad, the rest is happy.” 

You try to listen closer, see the music from his eyes, but ultimately the ballad still feels melancholy. Lilting notes piling on top of each other and easing the words, it reminds you of him… the graceful way it speeds up and slows down ; passionate and intimate, beautiful and sad. 

Being unable to admit this to him, you smile, the kind of smile that turns Hyunjin’s knees to jelly and stomach to storms. Secretly, he loves you the most this way: cozy and undone. He has sketches piled up of these moments, you with a book/you cloud watching/laughing with your friends. He adores you, even if he can tell that you don’t like his songs, that you think they’re too sad and wilty. You’re a crescendo of a person, loud and certain, and the music you like follows that. But he can’t help but love you more for listening to him, cuddled up on that tiny chair (surely uncomfortable) just so he can have a bit of company. 

“You look so pretty over there, sweetheart.” Shocked by the shift in his tone you release a nervous giggle and you can feel yourself beginning to warm up. Not like this is unusual behavior for your boyfriend–he’s romantic and glaringly in love with you always, but something about the environment… this tiny room, this beautiful boy (hair pushed back, smile blazing) sends shivers down your spine. 

Laughing, he sets his paintbrush down and wipes his paint-stricken hands off before moving closer. Only taking four steps before he’s in front of you, hands going to your face, hovering gently over the skin of your cheekbones. He never presses down, afraid to dirty your skin with the still green paint on his palms, but the way he’s looking at you gives the illusion that he’s touching you. Raking over your features like a starving man in a desert, lifting from your lips back up to your wide eyes. 

He’s consuming you and yet he’s done nothing. 

You can feel the heat of him, warm palms heating your face almost as much as your nerves. You’ve been together so long now, spent days and months and years becoming intimately aware of his body heat, yet you still feel that familiar shyness creeping up–leading to you biting the side of cheek in hopes of lessening the nerves. 

It’s only when he sees this, you so flustered in front of him, that his hands settle over the side of your jaw. Protective and gentle in his hold, and his crescent shaped eyes smiling at you. Calloused fingers rubbing down your neck, slowly to ease your butterflies. 

“I have them too.” he whispers, and your hands come to his chest, sitting where you know his heart is; beating quicker than you thought possible. How is it that you’re both so nervous? You’ve loved and lost together, know each other more intimately than anyone before, and yet just the sight of him conjures up the nastiest case of jitters. “Gimme a kiss, my love.” He giggled. 

You kiss him once, twice, then three times–kisses that are barely there, mostly just smiles pressed together, lips slightly entwined before releasing–until his hands snake around your waist and pull you closer. Your bodies held against each other like magnets, so close and yet never close enough. He kisses you slowly this time, taking control and easing you into it, lips lingering on yours before moving. Like all things, his kiss is sweet, and he tastes like the dessert you shared earlier: sugary and tart. 

When you move away, foreheads pressed together and lungs heaving, his eyes are still closed. And for one moment you can truly see what you do to him–leaving him breathless and rosy. When his eyes open, hazy and lovestruck, you can’t help but to tell him: 

“Hyunjin, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” your voice is hoarse, heart racing inside your chest and you love him. You love him so much you can’t be mad about that paint on your skin, or the uncomfortable itch of his hair scratching your cheeks. 

In response he takes your hand from his shoulder and kisses your palm, right over your love line. High and close to your pinky, you read once that meant you’d have an intense and passionate relationship… maybe it was silly, but you can’t help thinking it must be true, and what a wonderful thought that is. That from the minute you were born you were destined for him; meant to grow up and meet him, to love and be loved in the truest fashion. 

You hope it’s true. 

He kisses you again before going back to his painting, shyly laughing at the sight of you disheveled and covered in paint. He locks in again, focused on colors and shapes, and looks at you one more time, cuddled up and still reeling from the affection, and smiles brighter than any star as he tells you, 

“You’re the most beautiful too.” 

© LUVTAK

[jhyoos]

Dreams Come True

Christmas Special 🎄🎀

modern au! hockey player vi x idol! reader

summary: vi and (y/n) spend a night together downtown and have a fun time at the ice rink

notes : this is of course past tense. merry christmas everyone! 🩷

chapters : one, two, christmas special, three, four

The city was dressed for the holidays, every corner dripping in festive magic. Twinkling lights wrapped around lampposts and trees, shop windows displayed intricate holiday scenes, softening the edges of the bustling world. You stood outside the hockey rink, clutching a cup of coffee you picked up along the way. Your breath puffed out in small white clouds as you waited, your hands slightly numb despite the gloves you wore.

The door rink swung open, and Vi stepped out, her hockey bag slung over her shoulder. She looked slightly out of breath, her cheeks pink from the exertion and the cold.

“Sorry,” Vi called out, jogging over, “Coach made us stay late. Some of the rookies kept screwing up the drills.” She rolled her eyes, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

You smiled softly. “You’re here now that’s all that matters.”

Vi dropped her bag at her feet and leaned down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “You always know how to make me feel like less like an asshole,” she murmured, her voice warm and teasing. “So where to first?”

“Downtown,” you said, grabbing her hand. “We’re gonna drop your stuff and we’re gonna do all our Christmas stuff tonight.”

“All the Christmas stuff?,” Vi raised an eyebrow, feigning reluctance. But her mouth twitched upward, betraying her excitement.

“All of it,” you confirmed with a grin, tugging her toward the street.

-

The downtown streets were alive with the hum of holiday cheer. A Christmas market sprawled across several blocks, its stalls bursting with handcrafted ornaments, knitted scarves and sweet treats. The smell of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider filled the air, mingling with the faint notes of carolers singing in the distance.

As you both wandered through the bustling Christmas market, your attention was caught by a small stand selling hand-knit scarves. Among the rows of muted tones and earthy shades, a vibrant red scarf stood out, its color reminiscent of the blush that crept up Vi’s cheeks in the cold.

“Stay right here,” you said, breaking away from Vi for a moment. She picked up the scarf running her fingers over the soft fabric before turning to Vi with a mischievous grin.

“Come here,” you beckoned, looping the scarf gently around Vi’s neck. You adjusted it, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “Perfect.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, tugging at the scarf with mock reluctance. “Red’s not really my thing.”

You ignored her, smoothing the fabric against Vi’s coat. “Well it’s is now. You look adorable.”

Before Vi could argue, you leaned in and planted a quick kiss on her lips, your grin widening when you pulled back. “Absolutely adorable.”

Vi chuckled, her cheeks now rosy for a reason that had nothing to do with the cold. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re keeping it,” you said matter-of-factly as you handed the vendor a few bills. You gave Vi a wink as the both of you walked away, your heart swelling at the sight of the red scarf already becoming a part of her.

You both continued your wander, stopping for hot chocolate at a stand that filled the air with the rich scent of cocoa. Vi ordered an extra whipped cream topping for you, knowing it was your favorite.

“I can’t believe how different this feels,” you said, looking around at the festive chaos.

“How so?,” Vi asked, taking a sip of her own drink.

“Just…happier, I guess. The city feels lighter, for once, everyone’s just here to enjoy something good.”

Vi tilted her head, her expression softening. “You’re the only good thing I need tonight.”

You flushed, looking down into your cup “You’re such a sap.”

“And you love it,” Vi shot back with a grin, you couldn’t deny it.

-

Vi’s idea for the last stop of the night was the outdoor ice rink, nestled in the park surrounded by twinkling lights. A line of skaters weaved around the edges of the ice, their laughter and chatter adding to the festive atmosphere.

“Are you ready to show your hidden ice skating talent?,” Vi asked as she helped you lace you your skates.

“Hidden because it doesn’t exist,” you shot back, already feeling unsteady just sitting on the bench.

Vi chuckled, standing up with ease and helping you up. “Come on, you’ve got me. You’re not falling on my watch.”

You hesitated as you stepped out onto the ice, your hands gripping onto the wall for dear life. “Vi, I swear to fucking god, if I fall—“

“You won’t fall,” Vi interrupted, moving beside her. She gently took your hands, guiding you away from the edge. “Trust me. One foot in front of the other.”

You wobbled, gripping Vi’s hands tightly. “I’m trusting you, but this doesn’t feel safe.”

Vi laughed, her voice low and reassuring. “You’re fine. Look at you—you’re already moving.”

Slowly, but surely, you found your balance. Vi stayed close, her hands steadying your waist when needed. You both moved together across the rink, the cold air biting at your cheeks, but your laughters warming the spaces between you two.

As you both glided under the lights, you couldn’t help but marvel at how natural Vi looked on the ice. Her confidence magnetic, her movements smooth and sure.

“You’re incredible at this,” you say sarcastically.

Vi smirked, spinning you gently in a playful circle. “I told you. Pro athlete.”

“And humble,” you teased, though your heart swelled with affection.

-

The snow began to fall more heavily, dusting off your hair as you both slowly came to a stop in the center of the rink. The crowd around seemed to be a blur, leaving the two of you under the string of lights.

Vi’s hands rested gently on your waist, her gaze soft as she looked at you. “This might be the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had,” Vi said quietly.

You smiled, brushing the snow from Vi’s jacket. “Same here. Thank you for tonight. For…everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Vi said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Before Vi leaned in for a kiss, a distant toll of a clock bell echoed through the frosty night air that they both paused, glancing toward the sound.

The bell rang again, deep and resonant, marking the arrival of midnight. Snow continued to fall in a delicate flurry, and the rink had grown quieter as skaters left to celebrate Christmas with their loved ones.

“It’s midnight,” Vi murmured, her breath visible in the crisp air. Her hands still gently on your waist.

You smiled as you wrapped your arms around her neck. “Merry Christmas, Vi”

Vi’s lip tugged into a small, genuine smile—the kind that you had always cherished. “Merry Christmas, trouble.”

They stood there for a moment, surrounded by the soft chime of the bells and the glow of the holiday lights, before Vi leaned in, her forehead pressing against yours.

“You’re the best gift I could’ve asked for,” Vi said softly, her voice steady but filled with meaning.

You laughed quietly, the sound tinged with affection “You’re such a sap.”

“And you love it,” Vi countered, her grin softening as she closed the distance between you two.

Your lips met in the kiss that tender yet filled with everything they hadn’t been able to say all night. It was a moment of pure connection, one that chased away the cold and left only the warmth between you. When you finally pulled away, your foreheads still touching, Vi whispered “I love you.”

Your smile only grew, your eyes shining with unshed tears. You didn’t know if it was from the cold or from pure happiness. “I love you too.”

As the final chime of the bell faded into the night, you both stood together under the falling snow, the world around you quiet and still. For one moment, it was just you two, wrapped in the magic of Christmas and the love they’d shared.

[itstimetojellyfish]

Visiting you . ( Please just sleep , I’m worried ) ( Jing Yuan x reader)

This is technically my first post so….. yeah! I hope you enjoy this very rocky post! There will be some problems with transitions .

It’s been a while . Hasn’t it?

You can barely remember the warmth he emitted when he was in bed with you , asleep with your arms around you .

He made you feel so safe and warm , loved too . His large arms circling your body as he cuddled you , nuzzling your neck while you drifted off to sleep .

Yet…. The feast can never last forever . More mara - struck have appeared . Jing Yuan can no longer be with you so often . He has to be at the office , day and night , to lead the cloud knights and arrange everything.

( It worries you .)

the man has a very self-destructive habit of overworking himself to the point he downs 3 espressos a day . It’s a pain trying to help him get away from the coffee without having him experience withdrawal symptoms. It’s also a pain trying to get him to stop overworking himself.

Yet.

You do so anyway, you nourish him when he forgets to eat . You remind of his sleep schedule, you even do some of his work for him when he falls asleep at the divine foresight , draping a blanket you brought over him and letting him sleep in your lap .

Today is no different . As you walk down the streets to his office , you can’t help but just wonder , has he not fainted yet ?

(You wouldn’t be surprised if he did .)

Nevertheless, you open the door to see that he’s still miraculously alive and well , but unfortunately, not unscathed from his selfless nature . Deep black eye bags help you understand how sleep deprived he is . Your lover doesn’t even react to your presence , too focused on the slowly growing work load in front of him .

Papers are piled all around him , some even on top of him as his pen vigorously scribbles down information on top of the documents. (You wish you could take him away from this position and let him sleep for as long as he’d like.)

You initiate conversation with him , hoping he’ll get the clues that you will take over the position for him while he sleeps a dreamless slumber .

“ Jing Yuan … how are you ? You must be tired .“ You place down the bags you carry , and walk over to him .

He looks up .

Your heart breaks right then and there .

He looks so tired and worn out . Hair a mess , eyes threatening to close , his skin a pale shade of peach , almost white , barely any color in it .

“ oh ….. my love …. I’m doing fi-“ He attempts to reassure you , knowing your nature . However , his physical condition talks for himself.

“ What do you mean by fine?! Don’t lie to me! “ you rush over to him and cradle his face in your palms , turning his head side to side to inspect him .

( it’s a miracle he’s alive right now )

“ I’m okay , it’s honestly nothing. “It’s an attempt to reassure you , though it fails miserably.

You go to your bags and pull out a blanket and pillow , you always have these items with you whenever you visit him .

“ Aeons…… how many time do I have to tell you to take care of yourself?! You worry me so much! And the people won’t be able to do anything with a sleep deprived general! You’ll probably faint before you even go outside!” You scold him , however , it has an underlying tone of concern.

You walk over to him and attempt to coax his head into your lap so he can get the much deserved rest he needs . However , the attempt fails as he resists the temptation of your soft , plump thighs cushioning his head .

“ No , stopping worrying please , I’m fine …. And even if I do faint, Fu Xuan is there to take my place when I’m resting . “ He raises a hand and turns to look at you , amber eyes softening at your worried expression , eyes watering as you take in the state of him .

He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls you down to his lap , gently coddling you , trying to reassure you . It doesn’t work , you know better . All he’ll do is just work more .

So you struggle , attempting to just get him to relax , “ Jing Yuan! Diviner Fu won’t be there forever you know! “After a while you both give up and try to have a compromise.

Your lover sighs , “ Please dear , just rest your head , I’ll be fine .” He smooths a hand over your side , gently rubbing up and down in an attempt to soothe your frazzled nerves .

“ Jing Yuan ! “ You bat at his arm as you try to get him to rest , “ I should be the one telling you that! You look like you’re about to faint any moment!” The tears in your eyes start to pour .

His eyes soften . Your lover closes his eyes and then shakes his head , making out a compromise . “ How about this . You rest for now , on my chest , so you know I’m alive . “

You glare at him .

He gently kisses your forehead, “ Hold on now , I haven’t finished . “ You raise an eyebrow waiting for the other half .

“ If you let me soothe your nerves for today , then tomorrow, I’ll go home , and rest with you . “

You say yes immediately. It wasn’t a 2 week long break he needed , but it was something better than him staying up .

He smiles sweetly .

It warms your heart .

Soon enough , you’re sleeping in bed , with his warm hands over your stomach and long arms wrapped around you .

( its warm and it helps you finally sleep )

————————————————————————

Thanks for reading! I really hope you enjoyed!

[hinatiny]

trivial things ੈ✩‧₊˚ kuroo tetsuro

kuroo is there with you through thick and thin, for everything between the worst of your days to painting your nails.

w.c: 0.8k

kuroo likes to help you.

the silence you share with him in the space of your bedroom is of the comfortable type—soothing, anchoring your mind to a plane of reality, not in the need of breaking.

your carpet doesn’t do much to soften your seats on the floor, and you’re sure both your and his spine will feel like a disaster within an hour or so. you don’t care about that really yet though.

you can’t care about it, you’re too busy focusing on not moving, to the point where you’re almost forgetting to breathe. you’ve curled a leg up, hugging it to your chest to keep it stable as kuroo, too, is busy focusing; his hands aren’t shaking, but his slight lack of inexperience with nail polish is visible as he tries to paint your toenails.

your feet are cold. just a bit wrinkly as well, the results of washing them after telling him there’s no way you’ll let him do your nails before that. he’d argued back, saying he’ll wash his hands later anyway, but you didn’t falter. thus you sit here with feet, cold, but not freezing at all; throughout the current process, his warm hands brush against your skin every now and then, and it’s oddly calming.

you glance away for a moment, at your own hands that he’d been taking care of just lately. the nails are red, alarmingly red. it’s a shade you didn’t even know you owned, let alone used, and you’re sure you’ll wipe it off before the next time you go out. for now, you’ll let it remain there, although it’s not the color you had initially planned on. “but red was our uniform color in high school!” was what had convinced you, along with a childish pout.

“woops, sorry.” you look back down. out of all the mistakes and accidental strokes kuroo has done so far, this fresh one is the worst. your toe looks like it’s screaming for help, and it somehow makes you feel like laughing. “i’ll fix that later.”

“i’ll forgive you if you let me do your nails later.”

he chuckles, “sure. what color are you planning?”

“black, i think it’ll look good on you,” you say after humming for a moment but he doesn’t seem as pleased with the suggestion, grimacing. “what?”

“that’s daichi’s team’s color.” “fukurodani?” “worse, karasuno. next color.”

you silently scoff, “per that logic, we should be dying your hair too.”

this brings out another chuckle from kuroo, “yeah? what color are we dying my hair then?”

“yellow.” “like kenma-yellow?” “no, it’s called kenma-yellow for a reason.” “are you saying i can’t pull off that color?” “kuroo, i hate to break this to you but you’d probably look like a chicken in that color.”

at any other time, he’d jokingly act offended. however, he can’t bring himself to do so when the image draws a hearty laugh from you as well, the sound only making him smile as he briefly glances up at you.

the laugh is soon muffled below that returning, comfortable silence again. it stays like that for a while, and you wouldn’t mind if it stayed like that the entire night either.

the only issue is the one sob you suddenly let out, one you’d been holding back after already having sobbed more than a just a few times only a short while ago. this time, kuroo sighs.

“i know i told you to cry it all out earlier,” he says without diverting his eyes from the work in progress. “but if your roommate comes in and sees you like this, she’s probably going to think i forced you into doing your nails.”

to his relief, between two more sobs you let out, cracks a small giggle out. “i’ll try to stop. sorry, i didn’t mean to cry again.”

kuroo doesn’t answer immediately. he spends another few moments on the very last nail left to paint, before eventually letting out a deep breath. he puts the brush back into the small bottle of polish, screws its cap shut and puts it aside.

his hand, as warm as it’s always been, finds the top of your head. your hair gathers in messes between his fingers as he ruffles it, but it’s gently done, so gently that you can’t complain like you otherwise would. for a few moments, it makes you forget that you have a whole world of stress and pressure spinning around you.

so you let it happen, finding solace in being able to let your walls down at last. you feel your eyes burn in threatening tears, but as he speaks, his reassurance tilts you closer towards a calm, “it’s okay. everything’s going to be alright.”

kuroo likes to help you, even if it’s through the most trivial ways — like visiting your home at two in the morning and painting your nails. he truly likes to help you and would probably do anything, as long as it meant hearing that laugh again, the one you let out when he soon adds,

“by the way, you weren’t serious about dying my hair, right?”

[vampirehoon]

⋆｡𖦹 °.⋆❀˖°

sunghoon had been hanging with his members at the shore, screaming and splashing like kids. all this running from each other made sunghoon out of breath. sunghoon dragged his feet across the warm sand up to where you where. settling into the beach chair he set up earlier beside you, he caught his breath with sweat dripping down his cheek.

the seagals cried over head and the rest of the boys laughter mixed with the sound of the waves made it feel like summer had officially begun today. unfortunately, the heat is brutal this early afternoon so you chose to hide underneath your umbrella and it would be nice for sunghoon to have some shade to.

you called sunghoon’s name as you sat up, raising your sunglasses to rest on your head. you thought you should put them to rest after on the ride here niki insisted you looked like a mother but sunghoon was quickly to put down his claim and say you looked pulled them off well.

sunghoon opened his eyes and rose as well, his body facing your direction.

“sit over here, and drink this.” you invite him to come over and sit beside you under the umbrella as you open a water bottle you had in your bag. - maybe you are channeling your mom side.

sunghoon complies, watching your hands as you unscrew the top and when handing him the bottle. he kisses your cheek as a thank you as his throat was too dry to speak at that moment. instinctively, yours and sunghoon’s hands met and interlocked. no words of permission needs to shared to simply want to hold hands.

he sighed deeply after drinking the water and wiped his sweat over his forehead. you dapped his forehead with a towel as he asked if you’d want to join the fun. you stopped patting him with the towel and looked into his eyes.

you could tell he wanted to have fun with you. part of you wanted to but at the same time you wanted to rest in the chair for a minute longer.

“yeah, i can but you go first,” “i wanna put up my hair.”

sunghoon lips curl as he chuckles, nodding.

“do you want me to help you?” but takes that as a no when you shake your head.

“alright.” he stands up and looks over at the boys. jungwon has sunoo in his grasp as a shield from jay, nearby heeseung and jake are drawing in the sand - only for niki to walk over both of their crooked hearts. he figured he could charge someone into the water for fun.

sunghoon laughs, choosing to take jay into the water but is stopped before he could take a step. you look up at him with a small smile.

“not so fast.” he sits down, wondering what’s making you want to stop him.

you look at him and really look at him. the sunlight is glowing the sand and hitting him at a perfect color, you would love to take a photo right now. he is breathtaking and he knows your admiring him when you’re hand moves to his cup his face.

“do you know how lucky i am to have you as my boyfriend?” you say, squishing his cheeks with your thumbs. he’s cuter by the second.

this boy felt his heart race, you’re one to talk. he is so lucky to have you as his girlfriend as he never thought he could have dated you in the first place. sunghoon’s always been an introvert and a enjoyer of peace and quiet but when you happily yapped your heart about your favorite book in the library (where you spoke a bit louder than you were supposed to), you left him wanting someone who loved to talk and not be afraid to express themselves. he knew he’d have to tell you how he felt and it worked out perfectly, you fell for him the minute he expressed his love for fall during a passing period.

“that may be true but in no way are you more lucky than me. i’m the luckiest person on earth to have you as my girlfriend.”

you can’t help but meet those rude lips of his that say those sweet things to you. he meets you with the same longing feeling. this moment was right.. for a moment.

water and sand being thrown was not what you’d expect to interrupt your kiss. the two of you look over and attempt to dodge the water, the boys are throwing sand and water in protest against the pda.

“pda not allowed on the beach.” is the last thing niki said before sunghoon shouts with his fangs shining in a grin.

“not at my girlfriend, you punks!” sunghoon stands up, guarding you and then charging them all. screams fill the summer air once again and you root for your boyfriend - yelling “you get them cutie!” and him adorably responding back “don’t worry baby!”

you’re not going home until you throw enough sand at niki. you secure your hair into a ponytail and run over, the cold water made you scream and sunghoon found your waist to raise you and take your further in. the laughter and smiles didn’t go away and it hurt your cheekbones and your stomach.

𓉸ྀི ©vampirehoon

[chihuahuawashere]

ZOLU!!!

During the two year time skip whenever Zoro and Hawks take their well deserved breaks after training Perona would float from the haunted mansion to the training ground, grab Zoro and float all the way to the flower fields to re-wrap Zoros bandages.

During those breaks Perona would teach Zoro how to make a lot of things, flower crowns, braids with flowers in hair (like rapunzel), all types of flower jewelry and time little bouquets.

He always thought that it was a waste of time, but Perona told him that this is one of the ways to make a girl like him (like he cares about girls) but Luffy leaned to more of the feminine side before they had to depart so maybe he’ll like these. That hope was what kepted him going and listen to peronas bickering.

So when the crew finally got back together after the two years the Sunny’s grass and orange trees over grew and flowers were everywhere. Chopper was put to the task to eat it all but he obviously took his time since no one seemed really bothered by it anyways.

One day while the Sunny was bobbing in the ocean and no enemy’s in sight, Luffy and Zoro basked in the warm sun light under the tree im the gress of the Sunny. Zoro feel asleep first naturally in the shade but when he woke up he found Luffy asleep on his leg.

Zoro carefully set up making sure not to wake him up in order to see Luffys peaceful face. As he was looking at Luffy he can’t help but feel crushed knowing that he missed out on this beautiful face for two years he knows that Kuma meant well but he can never forgive him for spittling them apart.

But now he can look at his face for the rest of his life and he never wants to look away again. As he pushed a couple of hairs away from Luffy face he realized just how much Luffys hair has grown. (It’s enough to put it into a small braid) he thought to himself.

As Luffy was still knocked out Zoro instantly started grabbing flowers and grass that were in his reach and made and little band for the braid that he was instinctively started doing as if his fingers were on auto pilot.

Once he was done with the braid he made the flower crown. The grass on the Sunny had a variety of flowers from all the islands that they visited. So all of the flowers were bright and exotic ranging from all different of shapes and colors, making each one of them stand out.

So the crown had one/two of each flower in patch of grass and twigs that dropped near him from the tree to make the crown more sturdy so it can handled Luffys enthusiastic energy. Once he was done with the crown he gently puts it on Luffys head to make sure that he won’t accidentally wake him up.

After the flower crown zoro then started adding flowers in all over his braid. With warm colors near the crown and more down to the end of the braid is cooler toned flowers. After putting some more flowers in between his ears. Luffy wakes up staring at Zoro with loving eyes that Startled Zoro for a second.

Luffy springs up and asked Zoro what he was doing and Zoro just said “I put flowers where they belonged” and with Luffy being Luffy he gave Zoro he bright smile and got up and ran into the bathroom to see it while screaming about how amazing Zoro is throughout the Sunny putting a momentary hold on over ones little relaxation day.

But Luffy left a normal looking Marino into a deep red tomato as Zoro heard Luffy from across the Sunny Saying how cool he looks now. The next time Zoro sees Perona again he really needs to thank her immediately. ❤️

[novellafaire]

TWST Boys on a Carnival Date

Dorm leaders x Reader

Summary: What is it like when the boys take you out on a date to the local carnival?

A/N: sorry lovelies for the small break! finals were a pain, but we’re here again now, so I hope you enjoy! ♡

p.s. requests are still currently closed for the time being, so if you send any it’ll be a while before we get to them, hope you understand! ♡

• if we’re being honest, you were probably the one who organized the date

• because of his childhood, chances are he’s never been to a carnival

• he would normally see these events as being childish, but the happy look on your face makes it worth it

• he does enjoy spending time with you though, even if he prefers the calmer dates such as tea parties or study sessions

• will be more lenient on his own rules, but will follow any rules to the letter that the carnival has

• you’ll have to remind him to enjoy himself

• wouldn’t care too much for any of the rides, especially the more exhilarating ones, but once again, he’ll do it for you

• if he had to choose a favorite though, it would probably something more calm and traditional, such as the ferris wheel or carousel

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  

Your hand grasped firmly around Riddle’s as you led him through the carnival grounds. He wasn’t quite sure what to do, so he followed obediently. Finally, the two of you came across a carousel.

Riddle looked at you quizzically, did you think he was a child? But you simply smiled at him and waited in line. Once it was your guys’ turn to mount the wooden creatures. Riddle chose a cream colored horse, given his ties to the equestrian club, while you chose the one most suited to your preferences.

Riddle felt incredibly out of place sitting on the faux creature. Even still, he listened diligently to the rules being told about the ride. He couldn’t fathom why you wished to bring him here.

That is, until it started moving. His brain still screamed that this is childish, and if Ace ever saw him like this, he would never hear the end of it. Though, for some reason he couldn’t explain, his heart disagreed. Joy filled his veins as the air slightly tussled his crimson hair, and as the scenery around him began to move. He can’t recall if he’s ever felt this free before.

Once you guys dismount the ride, you can’t help but ask his opinion. A light shade of red dusts his cheeks as he avoids eye contact with you. His hand feels warm curled around yours, even as refuses to admit he enjoyed it.

“I suppose I can understand the endearment towards such a ride”

• you probably had to drag Leona out there one way or another

• he does enjoy spending time with you, but he much rather stay in one of your dorms just hanging out and sleeping

• but he knows that there should be other dates than just those, so he indulges you

• (it’s totally not because when he first declined you, you suggested going with other people instead)

• he’ll buy you anything you want without much thought. he’s also really good at the carnival games, so he’ll gripe about it the whole time but if you want a prize, he’ll win it for you

• the smug lion will also enjoy the compliments that follow

• once again, he doesn’t care much for the rides or anything, he only does them because you seem to enjoy them

• if he had a favorite, it would probably be the haunted house, not because they scare him, but because he likes teasing you, and he won’t admit it, but he likes the feeling of being relied on

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  

You instinctively jump back and lean into Leona’s embrace when another eerily well designed ghoul jumps out at you. In your world they wouldn’t have been as terrifying, but in this world they have the power to use magic to aid in their scaring, which ups the fear factor tremendously. As you hide your face in the lion beastman’s torso, you can feel the deep chuckle reverberate through his chest. Looking up, your gaze meets his infamous teasing smirk.

“Scared, herbivore?” He grins with an eyebrow quirked. You huff, crossing your arms defiantly as you turn away from him

“Of course not! I was just startled, that’s all”

The mocking look on his face doesn’t leave as you guys continue walking. He stays a few paces behind you, thinking to himself. You’re an incredibly strong person who has put up with so much — including himself — and he knows that, so seeing you get scared from what he considers child’s play is very amusing to him. And, as much as he would deny it, he loves how he can be someone you’re comfortable relying on.

He’s used to people not thinking he’s good enough, or that he would always be second pick, so having you come to him first makes his heart soar with joy. It also inflates his already massive ego.

Your banter continues, and to further your point on not being scared, you quicken your pace to go further in front of him. However, this quickly back fires as another jumpscare happens right as you turn the corner. You quickly return to Leona’s embrace, forfeiting your pride for the moment. Leona just secures his arm around you to make you feel safe, but as he speaks you can practically see the smirk on his face.

“You’re just jumping at every excuse to be in my arms, huh?”

• he was actually the one who probably brought it up with you, even though he enjoys taking you out on more lavish dates, he does want to experience more land-dwelling customs and because it can give him ideas for business opportunities

• he’ll try to win you plushies from the rigged games, but he won’t be able to win, which simultaneously frustrates and embarrasses him

• instead he’ll spoil you by buying you other stuff you want

• a bit reluctant to eat any of the food, but will snack a bit on it if you insist

• will never participate in the dunk tank. no matter how much you beg or plead, that is one thing you’ll never catch him partaking in

• most likely to have really bad luck — like he’ll try to be all suave but then something will happen, like the ride getting stuck, and it’ll be ruined

• not a huge fan of the fast paced rides either, he prefers the more “romantic” ones

• but honestly his favorite thing is to just walk around the fair ground with you, looking at all the stalls

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  

Your arm was hooked across his elbow, with his other free hand resting over yours. Even as people bustled around you guys, filling the air with their laughter, you didn’t mind the noise. You and Azul had been having a nice conversation and were now walking around in comfortable silence.

While you were watching everything around you, Azul’s eyes were focused on you. Even in the summer heat and humidity, you looked ethereal to him. Even though he could be pessimistic at times, especially about himself, you were always there to brighten his day.

He was pulled out of his trance when he felt you tug on his arm, pointing to a photo booth they had. He let you drag him over to it, despite his insecurities he would happily oblige you. Especially because it would provide a physical reminder of the day, which is always nice. He would just make sure to hide it from the Leech twins — he didn’t need their relentless teasing.

“C’mon Azul, let’s take some photos together! It would be so cute”

“Of course, anything for you, darling”

• literally a golden retriever the whole time

• he was so excited when he heard about the carnival, and immediately wanted to take you there to enjoy it

• boy is literally bouncing off the walls, wanting to try anything and everything

• Jamil would shadow you guys from a distance though, to make sure nothing bad happened

• if you guys are holding hands, be assured that he’ll be swinging your guys’ arms happily

• Kalim is literally thriving in this type of environment

• another one who will buy you anything you want without a second thought — he’ll even be more than willing to buy things that aren’t actually even for sale

• he especially loves the exhilarating rides and roller coasters, or even the tilt-a-whirls and water rides.

• his favorite is probably the bumper cars though, he just has so much fun interacting with strangers like that

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  

Jumping up and down on the balls of his feet, Kalim was talking animatedly to you while you guys waited in line for the bumper cars. If the people knew who he was, they would probably let you skip the line, but that thought didn’t even cross Kalim’s mind and you would feel bad for the other patrons if you did that, so you didn’t voice that thought.

Luckily though, the line wasn’t too bad, and Kalim distracted you from the wait, regardless. This was probably the fourth time you guys were going to the bumper cars, but Kalim just kept having so much fun with it

Kalim then turned his attention to you, a bright smile adorning his face.

“Isn’t this so much fun?”

His happiness was contagious, so you couldn’t help but grin back, “yeah, it is!”

“We have festivals in the Scalding Sands, but nothing like this” he beams, explaining why he finds this so enjoyable, before he pauses and adds on,

“Well, I always have a lot fun when I do anything with you!”

• the chances of you getting Vil to actually go to a carnival are incredibly slim

• they’re just too chaotic and rambunctious for his liking

• it would take a lot of pleading for him to go with you to one — probably would if you mentioned how you liked them back in your world, because then he would feel bad denying you something that was related to the home you were taken away from

• wouldn’t care too much about what was being sold unless it was accessories or something, but even then he would be quick to point out the low quality

• so no, he probably wouldn’t buy you anything unless you really wanted it, his reasoning being that he could find you something much better elsewhere

• he won’t be keen on the rollercoasters or fast moving rides, namely cause of the damage the wind could do

• flat out refuses to do any of the water rides

• Vil prefers the more slow and scenic rides

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  

Even sitting in one of the small compartments of the ride, Vil still has his legs elegantly crossed and his posture perfect. His eyes are gazing at the scenery that passes by while you guys chat idly. Even though this may not be his preferred type of date, he still enjoys it nonetheless (even if it doesn’t seem like that)

He turns his head towards you when you call out his name. You were pointing a camera at both of you, ready to take a picture. Vil smiles at this, and it’s not his usual smile he’s developed for the sole purpose of photos, it’s a true, genuine smile.

After you take a photo, you pull up your screen so that the both of you can look to see how it turned out. In the photo you can see your bright smile, the beautiful scenery in the back, and then the soft look on Vil’s face as he smiles — a far cry from his usual demeanor.

Enamored with the picture, you look up at him and tell him that he’s beautiful. His real smile broadens further, before it turns into a smirk.

“I look my most beautiful when you’re by my side”

• it would be difficult to get Idia to agree to a date like that, where there’s crowds of people all around.

• once you mention an anime where there’s carnivals in as well, then he’ll be much more open to the idea

• that, and it would make you happy, which is what he wants

• he would be incredibly nervous the whole entire time

•his gaze almost always either looking down at the ground, or looking at you, and he would not leave your side for any reason

• would definitely get a souvenir for Ortho, if he didn’t tag along with you guys

• doesn’t care for any of the rides, those are way too normie for him

•but he loves the carnival games the most — and despite them being rigged, he’s really good at them and wins basically every time

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  

You stood next to Idia, watching as he effortlessly got all the rings to land perfectly in their designated spots. The vendor seemed completely surprised and impressed by this, but nonetheless handed Idia his prize. Idia then gave the plushie to you, mumbling info about how he didn’t need it.

You guys then continued to stroll down the path between all the games and vendors, and you complimented his skills at ring toss. The tips of his hair immediately flared pink as he quickly avoided eye contact with you and fiddled with his fingers instead.

“Er— um— thanks” he stammered, “there was a carnival event in one of the games I play, and that was the game the character I wanted was playing. So I made my own version to play before I tried wishing for her, you know, to like give me luck or whatever so I could get her”

“And did you??”

His whole demeanor changed as he flashed you a cocky grin, “Gwee hee hee, of course I did. I would be just your common pleb if I couldn’t do something as simple as that. EZ”

You giggled and continued walking with him, when he mumbled to himself

“You know, this event might just be my favorite now”

• chances are Malleus didn’t even really know what a carnival actually was

• they’re probably not common in Briar Valley, and even if they were, he was probably never allowed to go to one. And even if he was, it wouldn’t be the same because it was probably rented out and no-one else was there

• suffice to say, he hadn’t ever gotten to experience what a real carnival was like

•kept to your side like a lost puppy, completely enamored with everything

• would be willing to try everything

• Lilia, Sebek and Silver would probably be trailing you guys — Lilia because he wants pictures, Sebek because he refuses to let you be alone with Malleus, and Silver because he wants to make sure the other two don’t do anything stupid.

• both of you know they’re there — they aren’t sneaky — but you guys elect to ignore them

• Malleus is probably not the best at the games because he puts too much strength and is liable to breaking them

• He loves all of it, but his favorite moment would probably have been the Ferris wheel

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  

The two of you were on the Ferris wheel, sitting side by side, and his hand rested on your forearm. Dusk had already settled in, so the view was gorgeous, especially as you reached the climax of the ride. Breaking the comfortable silence, Malleus turned to you.

“Thank you, Child of Man” he started “once again, you have enlightened me on experiences I never even dreamed of”

“With someone as old as you” you jest, nudging your elbow into his side, “I wasn’t sure if there was anything you didn’t know or had not experienced”

“With you, I am constantly learning new things” Malleus smiles, his gaze soft as he leans towards you

That is, until a screech could be heard from the sightseeing cabin behind you. It was soon cut short when someone slapped their hand over the other’s mouth, telling them shush, followed by the click of a camera shutter.

You simply giggled while Malleus sighed, before the smile returned to his face

“Ignore them. Focus on me, as you are the one who is the sole occupant of my thoughts”

[ask-the-command-post-war]

Megatron: I do not see why this stupid blog thing needs to be orange.

Skywarp: yeah, purple is a far better color!

Starscream: fair, when compared to orange, but I prefer blue.

Skywarp: simp.

Starscream: stfu skywarp you ass kisser.

Optimus: That’s enough, we can negotiate colors like normal people. I just thought the warm orange would be nice, and not so assaulting on the humans optics.

Megatron: assaulting? Please, like orange isn’t more assaulting of a color.

Optimus: that’s why I chose a softer orange. And I know you’re not overly fond of softer, lighter, more lavender shades of purple.

Megatron: better than orange.

Hot Rod: can you stop, it’s just a color, leave it be. and if I have to be included can it please not be all orange, or red and yellow as well. It’s like…

Optimus: of course, sweetspark. I’ll change the accent to a lavender that doesn’t horribly clash to look tacky against the orange.

Hot Rod: thank you. I’m muting now to go back to sleep.

Optimus: you’re welcome, love. If you come into the living room, I can make you something to eat before you do.

Hot Rod: okay.

Megatron: that was fast, considering how stubborn you were being.

Optimus: I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it because I want to make it easier for him.

Elita: you didn’t convince slag into us. It’s for Hot Rod.

Jazz: hey hey hey, you three. There’s no need to be picking a fight over the color of the blog, alright. It could be worse. A lot worse. Like, highlighter neon yellow and hot pink worse.

Soundwave: that sounds horrible. I think I’ll take the soft orange and lavender over that.

Prowl: the idea alone is overwhelming my visual senses.

Silverclaw: i like purple. :)

Astralwave: I think both colors are good. I prefer red though. ¯\_(•–•)_/¯

Bluestreak: eh. Lavender is nice, and I’ve gotten pretty used to orange.

Bluestreak: but aren’t we supposed to do a proper introduction for the blog?

Jazz: we’ll put introductory paragraphs in a pinned post, don’t worry kiddo.

Bluestreak: I’m twenty-four.

Jazz: my baby. <3

Prowl: doing it in a pinned post does sound the most sensible. I’ve never ran a blog before, though, so I wouldn’t know.

Jazz: Don’t worry, Soundy and I can manage it. Right, Sounders?

Soundwave: Refrain from ‘Soundy’. I only allow my conjux that nickname. But yes, we can.

Jazz: cool, cool.

Elita: I still don’t get what this is for.

Starscream: me neither.

Jazz: it’s so the humans and others can ask us questions freely, as the war has ended. And we can answer them!

Starscream: would it not be easier to simply write out an article full of answers to FAQs to serve as a PSA?

Elita: he has a point: isn’t that easier?

Jazz: yeah, but what about all the niche questions, and that’s not as fun. We get to actually interact with them, rather than just feigning for a parasocial relationship.

Elita: and we want to interact with them further, why?

Starscream: grand point. id think they hate us. It’s a lot like superhero movies: we think that it’d be awesome to have superheroes, but we would all hate them because last Saturday you watched one pick up your car, throw it at the dude, and fucking miss, and there’s your car totaled, and would the insurance even cover that? “Superman threw my car at a bad guy so it got totaled”?

Jazz: some of them like us! And want to ask us questions! Let’s just give it a try, yeah?

Starscream: …alright.

Elita: so you and Soundwave are mainly managing this, and we sometimes answer questions. Because they have niche questions that we can’t answer in an faq article.

Jazz: yeah! You’ve got it.

Megatron: this is ridiculous. We need to answer to the likes of humans, just because?

Skywarp: I don’t mind. Seems fun enough.

Silverclaw: okay sounds fun :)

Astralwave: alright then.

Jazz: alrighty! Let’s hop into it! Start sending asks, everyone! ^^

[nightingale-fic-recs]

Convallaria Majalis [Alex Keller x Fem!Reader]

Summary: Trusting people is hard, especially when they’ve let you down so horribly before. But you trust Kate, and Kate trusts Alex. And trusting Alex? Well that might just change your entire life.

Author’s Notes: I put a lot of thought and time into the title of this one, and finally settled on Convallaria Majalis- Lily of the Valley. In the language of flowers, they mean “the return of happiness”. The plants themselves have extensive underground root systems that spread quickly, unnoticed, and can easily overtake a large area and other plants with little to no indication it’s happening until it’s happened. That also happened with this story. What I’d planned on being a ~10K fic has become a whopping 19.2 words… I can’t say I’m sorry. I hope that theme carries through what I’ve written, and I hope all of you who read it enjoy the reading as much as I enjoyed the writing. Lastly, a big shout to  @chaoskrakenuwu for proofreading this for me, and the whole Uselss discord for your anticipation and encouragement. Love you all. ❤️

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Modern Warfare

Warnings: language, canon-typical violence, suggestive content, drug usage, attempted date-rape (NOTHING graphic or explicit, implied more than stated)

It was a beautiful, sunny, colorful Virginia afternoon, just like every other you’d had so far this week. The weather was just warm enough to heat your skin in the sun, just cool enough to feel chilly in the shade. You’d brought a smart-looking blazer along that morning, just in case, but it was slung across your messenger bag, unneeded in the balmy weather. You’d stopped by your favorite coffee stand on your lunch break, let yourself be flirted with by the teenaged barista, and now walked briskly into Langley, swirling your iced espresso as you went. Your heels clicked on the tiled floor, echoing through the near-sterile hallway. You smiled and nodded at your colleagues as you went, stopping just short of the elevators when you heard your name.

You turned to see Kate Laswell half jogging down the hall to catch you up. “What are you working on right now?”

All traces of your smile dropped at her serious tone. “Coding. Why do you ask?”

“Hand it off, you’re coming with me. I need you on the ground.” She flashed you an apologetic look. “I need someone I can trust.”

Your spine straightened, field training falling over you like a sheet. “Yes ma’am.”

Kate had already hustled past you, but threw a smirk over her shoulder. “None of that ‘ma’am’ shit, Trip. You know my name.” She waved a hand over her head, calling back “Twenty minutes to brief!”

You didn’t bother answering her, punching the button for the fifteenth floor. You rolled your shoulders back, taking in a deep breath. You’d been off the field for nearly a year, after almost losing an arm in a firefight. Physical therapy had lasted for months, and trauma therapy for months after that. You’d been working out of the main Langley offices, mostly programming, while you healed. You couldn’t deny that you were itching to be back on the ground. But you hadn’t been expecting to be pulled by Kate Laswell of all people. 

The elevator couldn’t move fast enough, your tapping foot the only evidence of your growing impatience. When you reached your floor, your director met you at the elevator. 

“Kate find you yet?” You nodded. He grunted irritably. “Why on Earth she felt she needed you specifically is beyond me, but I wish she could’ve found someone else.” Harsh as he sounded, you took his words for what they were- disappointment at losing one of his best assets.

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be back before you know it.” A look passed over his face that you couldn’t quite name. Wariness? Resignation?

After a moment, he shook his head. “I hope so,” he muttered. Then he turned his back to you, stalking down the hall to his office. Something about this whole thing seemed off, but you couldn’t focus on that right now. You watched him go for a moment before shrugging the whole odd encounter off and making a beeline for your desk.

There, you logged into your desktop to forward the files you’d been working on and to set an automatic response on your emails before pulling your locker out from its place beneath your desk. The tiny key felt both foreign and familiar as you turned it for the first time since your injury.

You took a deep breath, then swung open the locker. In it were all of the pieces of your old life, your real life; your tactical vest and black fatigues, a black bodysuit, wigs, changes of clothes, a duffle, and, nestled into the side pouch, your beloved Sig Sauer P228.

You yanked the duffel out and open, shoving most of the clothes into it along with your tac vest. Then you pulled out the black leather shoulder holster you’d worn every day for four years, stroking the pliable material fondly. You donned it, tightened the straps, and pulled your blazer over it before holstering your gun. You hefted your duffel and took one last look around the office, wondering absentmindedly when, if, you’d be back. Then you marched for the elevator, scanning your badge to access the basement level where Kate set up shop when she worked out of Langley. 

Ten minutes ago, when you’d spoken with her, you didn’t have access. Now you did. She worked fast, you’d give her that.

The doors slid open, silent as ever, and you clicked into Kate’s lair. 

The room was dark, cold, and quiet. Servers and bookshelves lined the walkway, directing you to a large table scattered with documents and folders. A single laptop cast a soft glow on the corkboard behind it. Just as you reached the table, a low voice startled you out of your focus. 

“Who are you?” You whipped around, coming nose to… well, chin, with someone. You tilted your head, looking up to meet a pair of cold, grey-blue eyes. The man glaring down at you had a handsome, chiseled face, visible even under his overgrown goatee and beard. In the low light, you couldn’t quite tell what color his tousled hair was- blond, maybe? Or a light brown?

He shifted, leaning back on his heels and crossing his heavily tattooed arms across his broad chest as he towered over you. He tilted his head, sizing you up, just as you were him. He’d sure be pretty, if not for that scowl. 

Before you could answer him, Kate’s voice cut in. “She’s your new partner, Alex. Introduce yourself, and play nice.”

Alex’s brows shot up, stance relaxing immediately. He looked back to you, curiosity replacing the mistrust in his eyes. You reached toward him and offered your name. When his hand clasped yours, it dwarfed you- his fingers nearly touched his palm.

“Alex Keller,” he replied. You could tell he was deliberately keeping a looser grip than he would normally use, and you squeezed hard once. That made him grin, and he tightened his grip incrementally before releasing you to turn toward Kate. “Now Kate, what’s all this about? You know I was this close to finding those guns.” He held his thumb and forefinger together in front of him, making Kate roll her eyes. 

“Yes, well, Trip was busy too. But I have a delicate assignment and I need people I can trust.” She leveled you both with a look. “This is highly sensitive, top secret, all that bullshit. Do you both understand?”

You nodded, standing up straighter, and saw Alex do the same in your peripheral vision.

“Station Chief Harding has come under recent suspicion for drug trafficking.” You and Alex shared a startled glance. A CIA station chief? “We believe he’s using a club in Amsterdam as his cover. As I’m sure you both know, if Dutch officials were to find him in possession, it could jeopardize our operations there.”

“Ma’am, I don’t mean to question orders,” said Alex. He paused, only continuing when Kate nodded to him. “Shouldn’t the teams in Amsterdam be the ones looking into this?”

“No. I need people that Harding won’t recognize. I hand picked both of you for this one. I trust in your abilities to work without supervision, and to be discreet.” Kate held Alex’s gaze, nodding toward you. “And I’m trusting you to protect her.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Alex bend in your direction. He was still facing Kate, but he seemed to lean involuntarily toward you. Your own posture shifted, your hands coming up to rest on your elbows as you shuffled your feet.

“Protect me?”

When Kate looked toward you, she didn’t look happy. “You’re going in as one of the… workers at the club.” She paused, letting her words sink in. Your heartbeat slowed before kicking back into gear at twice the pace. Alex was watching you carefully, brow furrowed. He hadn’t put it together yet. But Kate had read the look on your face before you had even realized it was there. She reached out, laying one hand on your forearm and one on Alex’s bicep. “I wouldn’t send you in if I didn’t think you could do it. And Alex is the best man for this job. He will not let anything happen to you, okay?”

“Kate?” Alex’s open face had closed off somewhat, suspicion lacing his lips and his words. “What am I protecting her from? What’s going on?”

“I’m going in as a waitress in a strip club.” Kate shook her head, looking ready to protest. “Dance club. Whatever.” Alex’s head snapped in your direction, mouth falling open in silent protest. You spoke again before he could interject. “And you’re going to make sure Harding and his men don’t kill me if he finds out.”

There was an awful beat of silence before Alex wrenched his arm out from under from Kate’s touch, sputtering in indignance. “Now hold on-” he began. But you couldn’t hear him. A cacophonous tunnel of white noise had enveloped you while he argued with Kate; all you could hear were the voices of the last pair of agents who had been assigned guard duty for a mission like this, back when it had been a strip club. 

“We could do better without her,”, “It’s not like she’s in any real danger,”, “You really expect us to babysit a girl in a strip club when we could be accomplishing something real?” You’d heard it all before, the night you’d returned to base with your arm limp and nearly detached at your side. Those two had blown into the back room, overconfident and uncaring. The target had pulled out a knife that “miraculously” made it past the club’s security and nearly cut your arm off before your partners killed him.

It hadn’t been Kate’s mission. When she’d found out, she’d summarily fired both of the agents and the special agent in charge. That knowledge did little to ease your anxiety. You trust her you told yourself.

You vaguely heard her, calmly explaining that Harding was well known for surrounding himself with scantily clad young women, both on and off duty. “It’s the easiest thing to exploit!” Everything sounded muffled, as though you were underwater.

“You can’t put her in a direct line of fire just because it’s easy! We have to figure something else out!” Alex’s roaring yanked you back to reality. You turned to look at him, then- to really look at him. His chest rose and fell quickly, eyes glinting and jaw set. One hand reached protectively out and back toward you. Somehow in the midst of the conversation, he’d angled himself between you and Kate. You wondered if he’d even noticed. And in that moment, that singular subconscious gesture, and his vehement opposition to the plan, you saw why Kate had chosen you both, why she felt confident enough to ask you to walk back into the fire. A seed burrowed under your skin, into your chest, latching onto the side of your heart.

Gently, you laid a hand on his shoulder. He seemed to unwind beneath your fingertips, tension sapping out of his muscles. He turned his head, pursing his lips as though about to speak. “I’ll do it,” you said. He froze, eyes scanning your features. Whatever he was looking for, he found. He nodded once, sharply, and lowered his hand as he turned away from you both.

“Fine.” There was a resignation in his voice that made your heart clench. Kate let out a silent sigh of relief, meeting your gaze. You nodded at her. She turned to the table behind her, picking up two case files and extending one to each of you.

“Your flight leaves in two hours.” With two quick “yes ma’am”s, you and Alex moved for the door. He darted forward, holding it open for you and not quite meeting your eyes. You murmured a quiet thanks and scurried through, turning to hold the elevator door open for him when you stepped in. He ducked his head in thanks, pressing the button for the ground floor and retreating to the far side of the elevator.

Neither of you spoke a word, not even looking at each other until the door opened and he waved a hand for you to go first. You did, exchanging small smiles, and then went your separate ways. You turned as you reached the front doors, catching just a glimpse of his puzzled face as he examined you from the garage before disappearing into it.

-

There was a certain disappointment in leaving behind your duffel. You laid it reverently on the shelf in your closet, stroking the side of it and tucking your handgun back inside. You felt vulnerable, leaving it all at home. But there was no place for anything in it on this mission.

In the two hours you’d been given, you managed to walk home and pack a different suitcase with a wide variety of clothes, get a cab, and make it through airport security. You arrived at the gate just as they announced early boarding, catching a glimpse of a tall head of ashy hair stepping through the bridge. You walked to the counter, scanned your ticket, and smiled at the girl who thanked you for your service. You kept your eyes down as you walked, shuffling through the narrow space. You only raised them when someone stood from their seat, dark boots blocking your way. 

You’d changed into sneakers and without your heels, your eyes barely came to Alex’s shoulders. He smiled lopsidedly, offering you a hand. “Take your bag?” he asked. His voice was low and smooth, just a hint of gravel in it. You unslung your backpack, handing it to him with a grateful smile. He reached up to stow it in the overhead compartment and your eyes fixed on the rippling muscles of his arms. Pretty, indeed. “You can take the window seat if you want,” he said. 

You slid between his lithe body and the seat, not giving him any opportunity to rescind his offer. He chuckled as he lowered himself into the aisle seat, giving you an amused look.

You shrugged. “You offered.”

“I did.” His eyes sparkled as he quickly looked you up and down. You allowed yourself a glance over him, as well. In the brightly lit airplane, you could see him much more clearly. His hair was an ashy brown, just as mussed as when you’d first seen him, with a wavy pair of cuts in the side you weren’t sure were intentional. His skin was tan, even under the line work covering his arms from the wrists up, and his face was lightly freckled. And his eyes, locked on you, were the stormy, slate grey of the roiling ocean, just a hint of blue in their depths.

You’d also looked him up, in your brief trip home.

His entire file had been redacted. So, you dug deeper as quickly as you could to find his file from before. Most of that file had been redacted, too. There had been single visible words scattered throughout the pages you skimmed. Efficient. Intentional. Empathetic. Cautious. And beneath his file photo, taken with the same ridiculous houndstooth scarf he’d worn both when you met him and now, a lone, lonely squad designation. Delta.

You blinked back to the present, zeroing in on his raised eyebrows. You blushed, having been caught staring, and turned to face the window. “So how long have you been doing this?” you asked. Alex took so long to answer that you looked up, only to find him turning his head away. Almost as though he’d been staring, too.

He cleared his throat. “‘Bout ten years now. What about you?”

“Depends.” He cocked his head, studying you. “I worked in the field for four years before they made me a desk jockey. And I was in the Navy for a couple of years before that.”

A look of pride crossed Alex’s face. “No kidding. Army. Six years.”

You smiled wide, turning to better face him in the narrow seat. “I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine.

-

A quiet dinging noise roused you from your dozing. You shuffled a bit, turning into your pillow, until it moved. 

Your eyes flew open, head snapping up.

Your cheeks burned when you realized you must have fallen asleep on Alex’s shoulder. You’d both talked about your time with the military, being snatched up by the CIA, and what you did now- all in hushed tones, of course. You’d leaned together, foreheads nearly touching, and whispered stories to each other for several hours until you’d convinced him to try to sleep. He’d spent the last 24 hours flying to DC from the Middle East, and now he was back on a plane to Europe.

You registered mild surprise that you’d fallen asleep, yourself. You’d been tired, but sleeping on planes had never come easy to you. Not to mention your trust issues. You seldom so much as rested your eyes around new people.

He was still sleeping now, head angled toward you and arms crossed over his chest. The dark circles you’d noticed under his eyes hadn’t lightened yet, but you knew they would take time to fade. His chest rose and fell slowly, lips twitching slightly under the curled ends of his comically large mustache. You heaved a sigh, looking up to see what had woken you. As you did, the pilot announced your descent into Amsterdam. The glowing seatbelt sign accounted for the sound you’d heard. You fastened your seatbelt, then glanced at Alex’s lap, hoping his would be on, too.

It wasn’t.

Gingerly, you reached around him, lifting the fallen belt from the side of his seat. Just as you clicked the two pieces into place, Alex’s hands shot out and gripped your wrists like vices. You froze, looking up at him as he stared through you in a haze. His eyes darted across your face before he seemed to recognize his surroundings, recognize you, and his hold loosened.

His eyes flicked down to his hands on you and he recoiled, horror sweeping over his handsome face. “‘M sorry,” he breathed. He sat up straight, wriggling away from you, hands suspended halfway between you both where they seemed to reach for you, but clasped nothing. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. Panic laced his voice in equal parts with the rasp of sleep, and his eyes flew over your arms as though he didn’t believe you. Cautiously, you reached for him, laying a hand on his forearm. You lowered your head, barely succeeding in catching his frantic gaze. “You didn’t hurt me.” He swallowed hard, nodded, and scrubbed his hands down his face slowly.

“We’re landing?” he asked.

“Mhmm.” You turned your back, leaning toward the window to give Alex a moment to collect himself. It didn’t take long for him to lean forward in an attempt to see around you. You glanced at him, offering a smile that he returned tiredly. “I always love looking at the lights. They’re so pretty.”

He said nothing, but you could feel his stare heavy on your face. You said nothing else to each other as the plane landed. Alex stood as soon as the seatbelt light flashed off, reaching up to pull down his duffel and your backpack. Rather than hand it to you, though, he slung it over his own shoulder, holding a hand out to gesture you forward.

“After you,” he said.

You arched an eyebrow as you passed. “Such a gentleman.” The only response you got to that was a low chuckle.

You were able to get your bags, a cab, and to the safehouse within the next hour, punching in the door code and flipping on the lights. The house was narrow, but far deeper than you’d expected. The kitchen was stocked with various MREs and canned goods, a large office tucked behind it. When you both trudged up the stairs, you found a library and a fully stocked weapons room.

You squealed about the Dutch classics you found, while Alex lamented his general illiteracy of the language. When you offered to read to him, he gave you the softest look you thought you might have ever seen. You moved to the weapons room, taking your time admiring the stash, murmuring to each other about your favorite guns and attachments, before moving up to the third story in search of bedrooms. There were two, side by side with a bathroom and tiny loft on the other side of the long hall.

“I’ll take this one,” said Alex, moving to the first door. He shrugged at your curious look. “Closer to the stairs.”

You gawked, moved by his thoughtfulness. That seed burst, spreading roots in your veins and the cavity between your ribs. Alex shifted uncomfortably under your stare, mumbling that you could have that room if you really wanted it. You shook your head.

“I see why Laswell likes you,” you said. A brief shock flashed in his eyes before he carefully schooled his face, shrugging again.

“I like to think I’m alright,” he quipped.

Acting on a rush of boldness you’d later explain away as getting into character, you deliberately looked him up and down, basking in the blush you could see rising on his cheeks. “More than alright.”

You sauntered into your room, withholding a giggle at the choked noise Alex made as you went.

“You go ahead and shower. I’ll get started on our case file,” you called. If Alex answered, you didn’t hear. But when you finished unpacking and walked into the hall, the shower was running and the bathroom door was shut. 

You walked downstairs, pausing in the kitchen and debating on dinner. You weren’t really hungry, but was Alex? You’d find out when he came down. You stepped into the office, planting yourself in the desk chair and booting up the computer. Once you had it open, you considered trying to dig a little deeper into your teammate. You strained your ears; you could still hear the water running. You had at least a couple of minutes, more time than you’d need. 

But something stopped you. You weren’t sure if it was a sense of owing him, or general guilt for snooping. Or maybe the hope that he’d tell you himself, someday. Either way, you opted to open the encrypted files Kate had sent instead. You were scanning everything she had on Harding when you heard Alex come down the stairs. For such a large man, he walked remarkably quietly. However, the floorboards’ soft squeaking gave him away as he stepped into the doorway.

“Looks like the club manager is one of Kate’s contacts,” you mumbled. Your chin rested in your hand, muffling your speech. “Though how, I’m not-” You turned then and promptly lost your train of thought.

Alex stood in the doorway in a grey t-shirt and a dark pair of sweats, barefoot and still damp. His hair shone, sticking up at odd angles, and the t-shirt stuck to his sculpted chest in all the most delicious places. If he noticed that you hadn’t finished your sentence, he gave no indication. He was squinting at the computer screen, leaned slightly forward.

“Hmm, seems like your run of the mill manager at least.” You were grateful that he didn’t seem to notice your fixation on his muscles, his own eyes fixed on the screen. He’d taken the few steps into the office in order to lean over your shoulder, one hand resting on the desk. You could feel the heat radiating from his chest to your back, and you took a shaky breath. You watched him scan the file out of the corner of your eye, then a grimace crossed his face. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, and you felt suddenly freezing from the loss.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

You turned the chair, pulling your feet up and wrapping your arms around your knees. Alex was studying you, scowling as he did. He seemed to zero in on the scars beneath the sleeve of your t-shirt. You pulled on it reflexively, regardless of the fact that the sleeve wouldn’t cover anything, and watched as a guilty look crossed his face.

“I’m okay with it.”

“What happened to your arm?”

“The last guys who ran an op like this with me didn’t take it as seriously as you seem to.” Alex flinched, arms falling to his sides. His expressive eyebrows shot up, then lowered again. That adorable little furrow between them surfaced while his lips worked silently, seeming not to find the words he wanted. “I got caught because they didn’t stick to the plan. They thought they knew better. I nearly had my arm cut off.” You lifted it, showing him the straight, vertical incision scar that ran from elbow to bicep from the surgery to repair the breaks in the bone. A patch of raised, much more ragged scarring ran horizontally on the outside where the knife had torn through your flesh. 

Alex’s expression was pained as he examined it, eyes finally lifting to yours. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” His voice was low and determined. He was still frowning, but there was a softness to it. “Okay?”

You nodded, lowering your arm to wrap around your legs again. “Okay.” You watched each other for a long time, tilting heads one way and the other as you took each other in. Finally, Alex cocked his head over his shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s get something to eat.”

-

You were woken the next morning by a gentle rapping on your door. When you opened it, bleary-eyed and somewhat unsteady, you found an equally groggy Alex on the other side.

“‘M gonna take a run, wanna come with?”

You nodded, yawning. “Give me five?”

He nodded, shuffling to the loft and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

You brushed your teeth and picked up a light sweater, pulling a baseball cap over your hair, and slouched into the hall. There was a murmured agreement to find coffee as you locked the safehouse, and then you were off. 

The run was mostly quiet, silence broken only by the sounds of your breaths in the crisp morning air and birds twittering from the tree lines. It was comfortable. By the time you found a nice coffeehouse, taking cups out to sit at a little table on the sidewalk, you both seemed to have woken up.

“I was thinking,” began Alex.

“Sounds dangerous,” you quipped. His answering playful glare made your heart skip a beat.

“How early do you have to get to the club?” he asked. 

“Eight o’clock.” When you’d opened the wardrobe in your room the night before, you’d found several “uniforms”, complete with weaponized jewelry and heels, and a slip of paper with a time and door codes. You’d glared at the outfits, hummed appreciatively at the cleverly hidden blades and USB drive, and memorized the door codes before tearing up the paper and flushing it down the toilet.

Alex hesitated. He watched his coffee as he swirled it slowly.

“You need to show up separately from me,” you said. He breathed out, nodding. “I’ll be fine.”

He looked up, unconvinced. “I have done this before, you know,” you teased. His gaze flicked quickly to and from your arm as he forced a smile.

“I know. I just don’t like the idea of letting you out of my sight.”

Your heart warmed at that, and you reached out to lay your hand on his. “It’ll be okay.”

There was some more quiet discussion about how you’d both get in and what exactly you had planned once you infiltrated Harding’s space, and then it was back to the safehouse. You both poured over all of the files Kate had sent, studying the blueprints and quizzing each other on them, and then walked to the market for lunch.

You’d found familiar foods- potatoes, hearty vegetables, and a roast small enough for two- and made your way back to the safehouse to cook. Alex had cut the vegetables while you’d seasoned the roast, finally putting it all together in a large pyrex pan to bake. As you straightened up from closing the oven, Alex asked “So how’d you get your name? ‘Trip’?”

And as though the fates had written it, you’d turned to answer him only to slip on the water you’d dripped just before when you’d washed your hands. Your arms windmilled out as you tilted backward. Before you could fall, Alex’s strong hands gripped you, one wrapping around your waist and one sliding up your spine to rest on the back of your head. He’d leapt forward, feet planted firmly on either side of you as he pulled you forward. When your chest bumped his, you looked up at him breathlessly. He hadn’t let go of you yet.

“Pretty much just like that.”

He barked a laugh, releasing his hold on you almost reluctantly. “Just like that?” “Well, no. I fell the first time.” He laughed again while you regaled him with tales of your legendary clumsiness, embellishing anything you could to make the stories even funnier than they already were.

You retreated to the library, making good on your promise to read the Dutch classics aloud as Alex listened with rapt attention. After several chapters, you paused and turned to him. He’d stretched out along the coach by the window, head pillowed on his arm. The midday sun filtered through the warped panes, casting him in a soft glow that turned his hair to honey and his eyes to the clear blue of a still lake. His eyes were fixed on you. They had been since you’d started reading and, even as the sunlight and his exhausted body tried to pull him away to sleep, they kept him tethered to wakefulness.

“Do you understand any of what I’m reading?”

“Not a word.” Your giggle made him smile.

“Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll wake you when the food’s done.” When he looked like he might protest, you tilted your head at him. “Can you honestly tell me jet lag isn’t kicking your ass right now?”

“No,” he grumbled, relenting and turning onto his back. He raised his free arm, draping it across his eyes. “What about you?”

“I’m not tired. I’m going to read.” He lowered his arm, just a bit, giving you a sidelong glance. “I haven’t flown halfway around the world and back this week,” you singsonged. Alex grunted before lowering his arm across his eyes again.

“Just… don’t let me sleep too long,” he murmured. You hummed in acknowledgement, turning your attention back to your book. You read for some time before standing, stretching, and padding up the stairs to the bathroom. You had just enough time to do your makeup before the timer in the kitchen pinged. When you peeked into the library, Alex had turned in his sleep to face the doorway. The arm that had lay across his eyes now draped across his body, nearly hanging over the side of the couch. 

You called his name softly. He stirred, but didn’t open his eyes. You called him again, and he turned his face.

“Alex.” The third time you called him, his eyes snapped open. He turned his head, eyebrows raising as he took in your heavy makeup. You’d lined your eyes with black kohl, brushed on a smoky eye and three layers of mascara, and filled in your brows. You were sure you looked like a different person altogether.

He sat up, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You look great,” he rasped.

“Thanks. Dinner’s ready, you coming down?” He nodded, stretching and yawning.

“Be right there.”

You walked downstairs and were halfway through plating the food when Alex shuffled into the kitchen. You handed him a plate and gestured toward the small table in the corner. The calm quiet of the afternoon had turned foreboding and you both ate in silence. Alex offered to clean up when you were done, so you went back upstairs to get dressed. You felt tense as you did, apprehension tightening your muscles and lungs.

The “uniform” was a black fishnet body suit, skin-tight black minidress, and a pair of pumps with a two-inch platform and a six-inch heel. The only part you didn’t mind was the jewelry- a glittering silver spiked necklace and matching bracelet that you could pull pins out of as weapons if you needed to. The finishing touch was a silver ring housing a miniscule USB drive that you’d programmed yourself; once plugged in, it would copy an entire hard drive in less than five minutes. You were proud of that one. 

You pulled it all on, glared at your reflection in the mirror, and applied a coat of cherry red lipstick before stalking out of your room and down the stairs. Alex stood in the entryway, fastening cufflinks in a smart black button down. 

It would seem that the man’s back side was just as attractive as his front.

As he heard you come down, he looked up, body going completely still as he looked you slowly head to toe. You felt suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny. The dress sported a plunging neckline, putting your cleavage on full display, and barely covered your ass. You were grateful that the fishnet bodysuit was solid black around your hips, offering you some tiny slip of modesty. 

Alex looked incredibly handsome, himself. He wore a fitted black shirt, complete with a matching tie and vest. It all strained across the hard muscles of his upper body, matching the black slacks that hugged his thighs and a rounded, firm-looking ass. The jacket hung on a peg by the door, ready for him at a moment’s notice. His unruly hair looked as though he might have tried to style it, but it had sprung back to its tousled state of being. His mustache, however, had been waxed into perfect curls at the ends.

He swallowed, hard, and let out a low whistle. His pupils had blown wide, nearly eclipsing the darkened blue of his irises. “You look…” He gestured up and down, clearly coming up empty on compliments.

“Like a cheap whore?”

“No,” he snapped. His lip twitched, mustache trembling with the movement. He reached a hand forward, which you took gratefully as you descended the final few steps. The outrageous heels brought you nearly eye to eye with him, though still not quite. He looked directly at you. “You look stunning. Harding’s a madman if he doesn’t want you as soon as he lays eyes on you.” 

The statement sent a shiver through you. It simultaneously ignited a fire low in your belly and a chill at the base of your spine. Alex felt it, and squeezed your hand. “But he can’t have you,” he said lowly. “I won’t let him touch you.” You offered him a shaky smile, trying to control your breathing. You considered asking whether that meant he was a madman, or that he wanted you. But there was no need for that. The heat from that particular question would keep you warm all night.

“So,” you started instead. “I look like an overpriced whore, then?”

Alex groaned, rolling his eyes and shaking you gently. “No, you do not look like a… a…” The blush that flamed up over his cheeks was so endearing that you couldn’t help reaching out to touch his cheek as you chuckled. “You just look gorgeous,” he said softly. The roots between your ribs spread out, twining more tightly into your bones and reaching toward the flesh of your chest.

You smiled. “Thank you.” Your smile faltered as you reached forward, straightening his perfectly straight collar nervously. “You sure you’re going to be able to do this?”

Alex blinked in surprise. “Me? Shouldn’t I be asking you?”

You shook your head, still looking down. “No, you. I know you don’t like the plan, but… it’s a good plan. Are you going to be able to go along with it?” Alex made a confused sound. You looked up at him. “Are you going to be able to you fit in with the men there? Act like you own me, if I need you to get me out?”

Anger churned in his eyes at that. “If it’s going to keep you safe, then… yes.”

“It will,” you whispered.

As you dropped your hands, Alex’s surged up to clasp them. “Just… so long as you know that… that’s not me.”

“I know,” you said, and you were startled by how much you meant it. A sharp honk let you know that your taxi had arrived. You squeezed his hands. “I’ll see you soon?”

“One more thing.” Alex turned to the side table in the entryway, sliding open the drawer and pulling out what looked like a glittering, silver spiked ear cuff. He turned it so that you could see a cleverly concealed earpiece on the back side. He reached up, hesitating with his hands near your ear as though asking permission. You didn’t move and, ever so gently, he reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from your ear. He fiddled with the cuff until the earpiece sat just behind your earlobe. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Your throat felt suddenly dry, voice coming out in a whisper. He was close enough to touch, close enough to kiss if you wanted to. And you wanted to. But you pulled back, smiling a fake-bright smile, and backed toward the door. “I’ll see you soon!”

Alex leapt forward, opening the door for you. “See you soon,” he echoed. You made your way down the stairs, only turning to look back at the door when you lowered yourself into the cab and murmured the club’s address to the cabbie. Alex stood in the doorway, silhouetted in the light of the hall, until the house’s facade was no longer visible. You let out a long breath, wondering what might happen if circumstances were different.

But there was no time for that. The club was only a few minutes away from the safehouse. You made some final adjustments to your dress, trying in vain to pull it down, before resigning yourself to the lamentable length. Or lack thereof. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as the cab pulled to the curb. You thanked the cabbie, tipped him, and lifted yourself out of the back seat.

You knew there was a door set into the side of the building that led into the bar storeroom and prep kitchen. Laswell had gotten pictures of you and Alex to your contact, Luca; he knew to expect you, and what you were doing. Much to everyone’s chagrin, though, he had stressed to Kate that he would not and could not afford to acknowledge either of you. Whatever you did, it had to fly under his security’s radar. If you were to be caught, he’d have no link to you, or the CIA. 

Typical.

You punched in the door code you’d memorized, holding your breath for the second it took to beep and open. When it did, you slid into the building, the clicking of your heels buried under the pounding bass as you made your way through the prep kitchen. You could hear a young man jabbering away in Dutch as you approached, critiquing the presentation of charcuterie boards and drink trays. He looked up as you approached, eyes roving over you.

“Ah, you’ve finally arrived! Good, good. Mr. Harding and his guests will be here any minute. Let me show you to his preferred room.”

“Bedankt,” you said, and Luca beamed.

“Ah, you know some of our fine language!” he crowed gleefully. He began chattering again, speaking intermittently in Dutch and English as he led you through the private rooms to one at the end of the hall. He opened the door, ushered you in, and then glanced quickly around the room.

“All of Meneer Harding’s business, he conducts from his personal laptop. He will set it there.” He pointed to a narrow shelf that jutted from the wall to cross the wraparound seating built into the sides of the room. “He demands no surveillance in this room and pays handsomely for it. He is very strict.” Luca turned to face you with a deadly serious expression. 

“I strongly recommend that you do not try to plant any equipment now. He has a man who will sweep the room prior to his arrival. He is quite thorough.”

“Bedankt, Luca. We appreciate your help.”

He nodded sharply, opening the door and ushering you out with another conspicuous look at your figure as you passed him. “You will bring champagne, charcuterie, and anything else Meneer Harding requests. And if they request nothing, you dance,” he muttered. “Good luck, and Godzijdank.”

While you made your way to the bar, Luca broke off to go to his office. He must have told the bartender to expect you, because he gave you a wary look when you leaned on the bar before handing over what looked like a wristwatch. When you turned it over in your hands, you realized it was a pager. You looked up as you fastened it and the bartender pointed to a tray filled with drinks.

“Booth twelve,” he shouted. You nodded, picking up the tray and turning toward the club. Colorful lights flashed and swept across the floor in time with the throbbing bass pumping through the speakers. Bodies swayed and bounced along, packed together tightly between you and the booths across the dance floor. You straightened your shoulders, lifted the tray above your head, and set off through the throng.

You’d just broken through the bulk of dancers when the door swung wide to reveal Alex, feet planted firmly shoulder-width apart. Your breath stuttered in your lungs. He looked like he belonged here; since you’d left the safehouse, he’d managed to tame his hair. Mostly, at least. It was swept back, but not slicked to his scalp, and several carefully chosen pieces still stood upright. He’d forgone the jacket, and his all-black ensemble helped to blend his broad frame with the surrounding party-goers. His piercing gaze swept the room, landing on you for only a split second before he stalked into the room, heading for the bar.

You managed to keep your feet moving, arriving at the booth and leaning too-far forward with your chest out as you lowered the tray and passed out drinks. The men at the booth whooped, eyeing you appreciatively, but thankfully keeping their hands to themselves as you turned to go back to the bar. Alex stood at the end when you arrived, facing the dance floor. You could feel his gaze heavy on you, but each time you glanced over, he appeared for all the world to be observing the room, bobbing his head lightly along to the music.

Your pager buzzed, the number “06” flashing across the screen, and you picked up another tray of drinks. You delivered them to a table of squealing young girls who shouted that you looked good enough to eat, batted your eyelashes, and sauntered away. You didn’t see any trays when you got back to the bar, and when you looked up at the bartender, he motioned to the floor. “Dance,” he mouthed.

Before you could turn, you felt a warm body press itself to your back. “May I have this dance?” rumbled Alex. His lips brushed your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine as he laid his hands on your hips. You smiled, a wide and savage smile, turning to take hold of his tie and walk backward toward the dancers, pulling him along as you went. He came willingly, swaying along with you until you were pressed together by the people around you.

You raised your hands to the back of his neck, stroking gently as his hands pulled your hips toward him. He leaned forward, pressing his lips just behind your ear. Any onlooker would think he was whispering sweet nothings or dirty secrets. Instead, he was asking “Any word on Harding?”

You turned your own head, pulling him down just enough that you could say “no” into his ear. His hands tightened involuntarily as you did, and you wondered at the goosebumps you could feel under your fingertips. Had those been there before?

After a too-brief time of dancing, your pager buzzed, flashing a bright “03”, and you grudgingly pulled free of Alex’s hold. He reached out a hand after you, and you let your fingers trail down his arm as you backed away. He watched you go, half amused and half like a lost puppy. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wanted to keep you there.

You picked up a tray of drinks, made your way to the booth, delivered while your pager buzzed again, and cycled back. Half an hour of this later, with momentary excursions into the crowd to dance, and your pager flared up again. This time, the screen only flashed light at you. You looked to the door, and there was Harding. He was flanked by two burly men nearly Alex’s height, and easily just as broad. The three of them pushed through the crowds toward the private rooms, and you rushed to the bar. The bartender had already placed a bottle of champagne on a tray, complete with two crystal flutes, and bustled you off the moment you arrived. 

You picked up the tray and hurried down the short hall, pausing with your hand on the doorknob before opening it and walking in. Harding looked up, eyes widening almost imperceptibly as you let your hips sway for the three steps it took to get to the low table. You smiled up through your lashes, crouching to set the tray down on the table.

“May I serve your champagne?” you asked in a low, sultry voice.

Harding leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of his seat. “You may.” He watched your every movement as you opened the bottle, giggling as the foam gushed up and over your fingers. You expertly poured a flute, extending it to him as you leaned across the table. As you did, you rested your free hand next to his laptop in an imitation of maintaining balance. You thumbed your ring, working the USB drive free and sliding it into a port on Harding’s laptop surreptitiously. 

“May I bring you anything else?” You pulled your shoulders back, exposing more cleavage in a bid to hold his attention long enough that he would miss the popup on his screen. His eyes never left you, traveling slowly down your body before raising themselves back up to your face. You could barely suppress a shudder of disgust. He cocked his head slightly, leaning further back and taking his time to contemplate.

“No,” he finally said. “Not now.”

You nodded, fluttering your eyelashes, and let your hips sway provocatively as you stepped out. When you turned back to the main club, you saw Alex leaning against the bar nearest the door. The moment he saw you, he ran his tongue along his teeth and grinned wolfishly at you. You wondered what he would taste like if it was your tongue instead. You quickly shook the thought free, striding toward him. You murmured out of the corner of your mouth, hoping you could be heard by your earpiece without being seen. “Putting on a show now, are you?”

He unabashedly let his eyes roam down your frame, and you couldn’t stop the shudder you felt now. But there was no disgust in it. You barely caught his tiny nod, but you scanned the room until your attention caught on a man watching you from a booth nearby. He was young, traditionally handsome with tan skin and sun-kissed blonde hair, and well-dressed. His suit probably cost more than your entire wardrobe, and you didn’t even want to know the brand of the gold watch on his wrist. He watched you as you walked, predatory as he sipped some dark liquor from a cut glass tumbler.

Alex reached out as you passed him, standing and pulling you to his chest in one fluid motion. “I’ll put on any show I need to, I don’t like the way that guy’s looking at you.” You let him pull you into the throng, giggling loudly for effect as you pasted a smile on your face.

“My hero,” you whispered. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the man drain his glass and stalk toward the private rooms. Into your earpiece, you murmured “Can you see which room he’s going to?”

Alex took your hand, pulling back to blatantly admire you in what was probably meant to be a salacious observation on full display for anyone watching the two of you. He lifted your hand, spinning you and then pulling your back to his chest, deftly wrapping a hand around to rest on your abdomen while turning to face the doorway. You just caught sight of the door to Harding’s room swinging shut behind someone. Likely your admirer. You leaned back against Alex’s chest, lacing your fingers behind his neck and tilting your head back to look up at him. He was already looking down at you, the leaden blue of his irises eclipsed by his pupils. Desire. You were seeing your own desire reflected on his face.

You swallowed hard, and then your pager buzzed. Show time. 

You peeled yourself from Alex’s body, tracing his reaching arm with a light fingertip and smiling coyly at him through your lashes. You picked up a tray of bottles of expensive, dark liquors- some in crystal decanters to match the cut glass tumblers- and sauntered to the private rooms. 

Harding and your admirer were deep in heated conversation when you stepped through the door. Your heart sank when you realized that they weren’t speaking Dutch, but Russian. Your Russian was mediocre at best, and you just hoped Alex’s was a little less rusty. You caught stray words as you sat on your heels to pour drinks, but nothing cohesive passed your ears. All the same, your skin crawled. What little you could make out seemed heavy with slurs and threats, and neither man had become any less angry than they were when you’d arrived. You stood, reaching out to offer a glass to each of them with a wide smile pinned over your rising discomfort.

“Gentlemen,” you purred. “May I bring you anything else?”

The younger man’s hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist lightning fast and dragging you down into his lap. The shriek you let out was real, too real, as your heart stopped. You forced out a slightly manic giggle, trying to play off your anxiety. After all, regardless of circumstance, the action warranted some level of surprise. You just hoped he took it as nothing more than that.

He gripped your chin and turned your head, studying you. You could see him undressing you with his eyes. You were going to be sick.

“I think I have everything I want,” he drawled. You felt a sharp pinch in your arm, looking down in horror to see a needle withdrawing from the crook of your elbow. “Let’s just test this out first. See if it works like you say.” He turned back to Harding as you wrenched your arm, but he only tightened his grip. “Give me the girl for the night and you have a deal.”

“Hey,” you began, and hated how your voice shook. “What the hell was that?”

Your heart leapt into your throat before sinking to your knees. You felt a cold sweat break as white noise overtook every other sound in the room. You snapped back to yourself just as quickly, realizing that you could hear Alex whispering. “I’ve got you. Just hold on, I’ve got you.”

Harding was studying the man who’d dragged you down, cocking his head back and forth. Both men ignored you as you looked between them frantically. “You know that this isn’t a strip club, Sasha. The girls here aren’t under my… jurisdiction.” His face betrayed nothing, as though he hadn’t just watched a man drug some girl in some club. You were definitely going to be sick. “You’d have to talk to the owner.”

Sasha’s lip was curling up in a sneer when a loud crash echoed through the room. You looked up to see Alex lurch in, careening with his hands held out to the sides. You could smell alcohol on him, from all the way across the room. Your heart sank and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry. You’d let yourself trust him. You thought he’d be different. You hadn’t pictured him getting drunk at all, let alone like this. All your hope oozed out as he swung in a haphazard circle, briefly resting his hand near the laptop before looking blearily around the small room. When his eyes landed on you, a slow grin stretched across his mouth as he raised his hands lazily.

“There she is!” he slurred, stumbling in your direction and wrapping large, warm hands gently around your wrists. He unceremoniously dragged you up, forcing Sasha to let go, and pulled you straight to his chest.

And then he kissed you. Soundly.

Whatever you’d expected, it wasn’t this.

But he didn’t taste like alcohol. Through the haze of confusion and terror and shock, you felt an overwhelming sweep of relief. Your hands involuntarily shot up to cradle his jaw as he attacked your mouth, like a parched man who’d just found water. His hands clutched at your waist, pulling your body to his tightly as he leaned toward you. The kiss was sloppy, far overdone for your audience, a tangle of tongues and teeth, but still it took your breath away. You ran a hand down the side of his neck as you tilted your head, pressing yourself further forward into the safety of his arms. His tie and the collar of his shirt were soaked under your hand. He must have poured a drink on himself to seem more drunk. You gasped, and Alex swallowed it, offering up the tiniest moan in return. The roots shot through the surface of your skin. 

You felt tears burn the back of your eyes, hope swell in your lungs. You didn’t know which of you had slowed down first, but the kiss had become tender. With every brush of his lips, you could feel as much as you could hear “I’ve got you I’ve got you I’ve got you”. The flower buds tickled at your chest, begging to push through the soil of your skin into the sunlight that was this man. The inexplicable draw you’d felt to him since that first meeting at Langley, the safety, the trust, it all came flooding up. It wasn’t enough to drown the abject fear you felt in the moment, but it met it head on, keeping it from suffocating you. Holding it at bay. 

You heard Harding clear his throat impatiently, and pulled back, giggling. Alex chased you, placing two more feather light kisses at the corner of your mouth. Suddenly, whatever you’d been injected with hit you like a train. The room seemed blurry, and kept spinning even once you knew your head had stopped moving. And your head. It felt so, so heavy. You couldn’t focus, could barely keep your feet under you. You clutched at Alex’s shirt front, willing your body to cooperate. It took you too long to realize that he was speaking, and you knew it more from the rumble under your palm than the sound of his voice. He sounded underwater. Other people were speaking, too. And they sounded underwater. 

Then you were moving, half walking and half being carried out of the room and down a hall. It was bright. Too bright. And so loud. You looked at Alex, who was now watching you with a wildness that took you a moment to place. Raw, helpless panic. “Sweetheart?” he was saying, but the word sounded funny. Sweet as molasses and just as thick in the distorted realm you walked. 

“Drugged,” you managed, a strangled croak pushing through your throat. “He drugged… me.” You thought you heard cursing, and then your feet weren’t holding you up any more. Your body floated into a place not so loud, not so hot- quite chilly, actually- and when you turned your head, you weren’t floating. Your cheek rested over Alex’s thundering heart as he ran. You reached up a limp hand, barely managing to stroke it down his temple. “Y’re so… pretty.”

You closed your eyes and slipped into blackness.

-

You came back slowly, wading through a haze of voices and beeping and clattering. When you managed to peel open your eyes, you saw a dark room and a man half sitting, half laying across your bed. There was a moment of near-violent alarm before you recognized Alex’s unruly head of hair. He was sleeping, face turned away from you on the edge of the bed, and one arm lay draped over your waist. The other was tucked to his chest, and you noticed with a jolt that he was holding your hand, his thumb resting lightly over your pulse.

You took a moment to inventory your feelings. Your blood still sang with a vicious flight response, but you’d managed to compartmentalize for the mission. You had no idea how Alex had gotten you both out of there, but you didn’t care. You were grateful. The kiss. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to memorize all the best parts of how that kiss had felt. In the moment, it had grounded you. Surprised you enough that you could tamp down your feelings. 

Alex’s file flashed across your minds’ eye. Intentional. Disappointment bubbled up in your throat before being swept over with thankfulness. He’d kissed you as a distraction, to both you and the room. To get you out of a bad situation. Nothing more. 

You didn’t even know why you were wishing it was more. You’d known this man for only days. Yet something in you reached out for him. You wanted to know him more. You’d built more trust in him in these days than in anyone else in the years since that fateful mission. Well, more than anyone except Kate. Maybe. You smiled to yourself as it dawned on you that Kate knew exactly what she was doing, putting the two of you together. She knew you needed him. Unbidden, Alex’s file leapt back into your mind. Delta.

What happened to you, sweet boy? Could you need me, too?

Unconsciously, you reached across your body to thread your fingers through Alex’s hair. The moment you made contact, his body went rigid. That split second stretched into a lifetime as you remembered the way he’d snapped awake in the plane, and again from the safehouse couch. You froze, but there was no fear. When time came back to itself, within the same second you’d touched him, he relaxed. His grip on your wrist tightened, just a bit, thumb pressing down on your pulse. He sucked in a breath and slowly, carefully, turned his head to look at you. 

His eyes scanned over your face, and you weren’t sure if you imagined that they lingered just a bit longer on your lips before meeting your gaze. You quirked up one corner of your mouth in a tiny smile and it was like a dam broke.

The breath Alex had taken in came shuddering out as he raised his hand from your waist to your cheek. He half stood, hovering and squeezing the hand he still held. His thumb trembled as it skimmed across your skin and you recognized that he was shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. He leaned further forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. You squeezed his hand.

“It’s okay,” you started, but he’d pulled back and was shaking his head. He sank to his knees at the side of the bed, clasping your hand in both of his and drawing it to his lips.

“I failed you,” he said simply. You couldn’t picture the look on your face in that moment. You just knew you must look like something out of a cartoon with the way you felt your mouth and eyebrows twist in disbelief. 

“And how do you suppose…?”

Alex’s eyes flashed. “You were hurt because of me. I should have pushed back about this whole plan, I should have figured something else out. It should have been me.”

Your heart clenched. With a pang, you recognized something for which you had no proof but the undeniable comprehension that filled you. Survivor’s guilt. 

“Almost,” you whispered. Alex’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching up to smooth your thumb over the skin. It disappeared the moment your fingertips brushed against it, and Alex leaned into your touch. “I almost got hurt. You stopped that from happening.”

He didn’t look convinced. You both watched each other for several long minutes. His eyes kept skimming your lips, and you were sure yours did the same. “I had no right to kiss you,” he finally murmured, and you blinked in surprise. He’d dropped his gaze, looking away as his cheeks burned with shame. You raised a hand, turning his face back toward you. He looked up reluctantly when you held him there.

“That kiss saved me from… from…” You gulped, suddenly trembling all over again. Alex made gentle hushing sounds, raising himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached for both of your shoulders, rubbing them lightly. You debated with yourself for only a moment before launching up to hug him. He let out a grunt at the force of your contact, but his arms came up around you, cradling you to his chest as sobs wracked your body.

You’d managed to put it from your mind, mostly. Now terror and revulsion and dread and fear and fear and fear crashed down, rattling through your lungs and threading through your veins like ice. You sobbed, and Alex rocked you, humming and hushing and holding as you broke down, kept together only by his firm grip on you. You weren’t sure how long you stayed that way, clutching him as though for dear life, but when you opened your eyes again, the sun was blazing on the horizon. 

You squeezed his broad shoulders, and he squeezed your waist. You took a moment, finally calm, to run your hands over the planes of his back. Hard muscle clenched under your touch before your hands settled on his shoulders, still wrapped under his arms. You weren’t ready to let go quite yet.

“How’d you do it, anyway?”

You felt, more than heard, his answering hum. You turned your head, tucking your nose under his jaw. He inhaled sharply and you traced a line to the back of his ear, speaking with your lips at the place the two met. “How’d you get me out?”

“I,” he said, and his voice came out somewhat strangled. His arms pulled you the tiniest bit closer as he cleared his throat. “I may have, um. Told them that, uh, that I’d already paid for you for the night.”

You pulled back, blinking at him. His hold on you loosened, but his hands still rested between your shoulder blades. He seemed nervous. You smiled at him, hoping to ease his nerves. “And they accepted that?”

He scoffed. “Almost didn’t. Harding didn’t seem to care, but the asshole who had his filthy hands on you,” his own hands tightened here “said he’d buy me out.”

You raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Alex’s eyes softened considerably, and he raised one hand to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “I told him I’d made up my mind about you and no amount of money could change it.” You smiled at each other then, and your eyes dropped to his lips. When you looked back up, he was watching you intently. “He wasn’t too pleased with that, but… Harding, actually told him to cool it. No weapons in the club, don’t jeopardize the operation over…” here he stopped, looking away in obvious disgust. “I knew something was wrong when I tried to take you out, but I didn’t know what.”

You took in a deep breath, looking down. “What was it?” Your voice sounded small to your own ears. Alex didn’t answer right away. When you looked up, he seemed fixed on a point on the wall.

“Ketamine,” he said softly. Your body convulsed then, a fresh wave of icy terror sweeping over you. Alex hauled you forward until you were practically in his lap, rocking you again and stroking your hair. I’ve got you I’ve got you I’ve got you.

“Tell me you got the USB,” you said through clenched teeth.

“I got it,” he answered. “Harding, that scumbag, the whole operation- it was all on that file. The Amsterdam team already locked up the asshole who had you. Harding’s next. You did so good, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

You cried again, crawling as far into him as you could. You tried to silence your mind. Nothing happened, you reminded yourself. Nothing happened.

You cried until a nurse came to release you, then managed to pull yourself together enough to get dressed with Alex watching the door, close enough to touch through the thin material of the curtain that separated you. The hospital had given you a plain grey sweatsuit, which you’d gratefully donned without bothering to put on your underwear. You’d put the jewelry in a bag to go back to Langley, but the mini dress and fishnet body suit and everything underneath had been bundled up and handed to Alex to be thrown away. He’d done it for you gladly.

You gripped his hand the whole taxi ride back, and he’d wrapped an arm around your shoulders protectively. He’d carried the jewelry bag, stuffing it into the entry table drawer in passing. Halfway up the stairs, when you stumbled from a wave of nausea you’d half been expecting, he swept you up as though it was a perfectly natural occurrence and carried you to the bathroom. When you’d collected sleep clothes and makeup remover, he turned to leave. When your hand shot out to grab his, he nodded and perched himself on the toilet to watch you take off your makeup.

You didn’t have to say a word.

When your hand shook so badly that you had to stop, leaning against the sink, he stood, silently taking the makeup wipe from your hands. With the softest touch you’d ever felt, he tiled your chin up and wiped at your eyes, intermittently stopping to re-fold the wipe in search of a patch not streaked with black.

“Where do you want me?” he asked when he was done. 

You glanced around the small room, grasping your elbow. “You can go, I’ll be okay.” He watched you, giving you time to change your mind, and then nodded, stepping into the hall and closing the door behind him. You stood for several moments before turning on the shower, anxious all over again. The steaming water did little to calm your nerves, and you scrubbed yourself raw in an effort to wash away the dread that had woven into your skin.

When you’d finally stepped out, opening the door to let steam pour into the hall, there was Alex. He sat against the opposite wall, head in his hands, and looked up when you stepped out. He offered a weak smile in your direction. “Feel any better?” You shrugged, but nodded. He looked down at where you still held your elbows and pushed himself to his feet. You abruptly felt horribly selfish. The circles under his eyes had darkened again and he looked pale. His tie was loose, askew, and he still wore the vest, although the buttons were all undone. His shirt had come partially untucked and you were certain the dress pants and shoes were less than comfortable. How long had he stayed up with you? You’d been hospitalized overnight, sleeping off the effects of the drug. Had he eaten anything since your dinner together the day before?

“Are you hungry?” you blurted out. His mustache twitched, betraying the amusement he felt.

“Not really. Are you?”

You shook your head. You noticed the clean clothes in his hands for the first time, and that wave of selfishness passed over you again. “You should shower.”

“You can come, if you want.”  Your head snapped up, but there was nothing teasing in his tone or gaze. He seemed to think you weren’t pleased by this, because he rushed to say “I just mean if you don’t want to be alone.”

You looked down. “I don’t,” you said quietly.

Alex reached a hand toward you. “Then c’mere.” He pulled you into the bathroom, leaving the hall door open, and lifted you by your waist onto the countertop. He opened your toiletry bag, rifling through until he found what he was looking for. He turned on the tap, running your toothbrush under the stream of water, and then squeezed out a perfect stripe of toothpaste. Your eyes filled with tears when he presented it to you.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you took it. He smiled, squeezed your shoulder, and turned to undress. You looked out into the hall, allowing yourself just one glance as he pulled the dress shirt off and dropped it to the sides. The muscles in his arms rippled under the dark lines of his tattoos, and you found yourself surprised that he didn’t have more covering his torso. His shoulders were a wide, blank canvas marked only by faded white scars. 

You turned quickly away, cheeks heating with guilt. He’d let you in here to calm yourself, not to ogle him. He showered much more quickly than you had, turning off the faucet as you spat your toothpaste into the sink. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his arm as he reached for his towel, pulling it back behind the curtain. 

“I’ll let you get dressed,” you said, stepping into the hall. You left the door cracked, pressing your back against the wall beside it and tilting your head back as you waited. You counted the seconds to keep your mind calm, and Alex emerged at 104. Like that first night in the safehouse, his hair was wild and his t-shirt clung to his damp skin. White this time, revealing a single tattoo on his chest above his heart. You couldn’t see clearly what it was, but you thought you saw something vaguely triangular. He smiled when his eyes rested on you and you offered a shaky smile back. “You look tired.”

He stretched his neck, reaching up to run a hand down his face. “Yeah.” He said simply. “Are you?” You nodded. He tilted his head toward your rooms, stepping forward. “C’mon, then.”

Your hand shot out before you could stop it, fingers wrapping around his bicep. Alex looked down sharply, concern etching his features.

You found that you didn’t know what to say. His face softened as he watched you, patiently waiting for you to find the words you wanted. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

He visibly melted, nodding. “Of course.” Blooms burst from the stems that rose from your skin, turning toward him like sunflowers to the sun. When you didn’t move, he offered you his hand. You took it, reveling in the warmth of his palm as he led you to his bed. You crawled across the narrow space, pressing yourself as close to the wall as you could.

Nerves sprung up as Alex deposited his clothes on the floor before sitting. He was a large man, and this bed was only meant for one person. He was already so tired, you couldn’t possibly keep him from sleeping well again, you had to tell him you’d be okay on your own, you had to-

“Stop thinking so loud.” Alex had stretched out, turning to you and waiting for you to lift your head so that he could rest his arm there. You did, and he scooted closer once you rested your cheek on his bicep. You didn’t move for a moment, too ashamed for taking even more than what he’d already given you. He reached around you, tugging you forward until your body was flush with his and your legs tangled together. You were so close that your nose rested on top of his, and one hand lay against his chest while the other toyed with the hem of his shirt.

“Thank you,” you whispered. In the darkness, you could only see a slight shine where his eyes were.

“Of course,” he murmured. His lips brushed yours as they formed the vowels. Your heart skipped a beat. He closed his eyes, and after a time, his breathing evened out and you thought he’d fallen asleep. Then he whispered, so softly that you almost thought you’d imagined it, “I want you here.”

You opened your eyes to see a pale sliver of moonlight illuminating a strip of his face. His eyes were on your lips, but they flicked up when yours opened.

You hardly even had to tilt your head, more leaning than actual movement. You pressed your lips to his, and the instant they touched he whimpered softly. Slowly, carefully, you slid your lips against his. You let your fingertips slide under the hem of his t-shirt, smiling against his mouth at the goosebumps that broke out across his skin. You traced the taut muscles of his abdomen as your tongue slid into his mouth, tracing patterns against his in a slow dance. 

Alex was perfectly still, save for kissing you back. His hands hadn’t moved, one flat against the small of your back and one on the pillow somewhere behind your head, and suddenly you worried that you had overstepped. You flinched back, Alex involuntarily following you forward as his eyes snapped open.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed.

He was panting lightly, clearly trying to hide it. He licked his lips. “For what?”

“Kissing you, I don’t… I don’t want you to feel used.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile. Finally, the hand on your waist lifted to cup your cheek. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me. For anything.” His expression turned serious and he cleared his throat. “Besides, I’ve… I’ve been used for much worse. This is… this is a nice change.”

Delta flashed through your mind, but you kept your mouth shut. His thumb skimmed your lips, your nose, and the apple of your cheek. You closed your eyes, leaning forward to press one last kiss to his soft lips. He sighed into it, hand sliding down your side to your waist once more. He tugged you ever so slightly closer as you tucked your nose under his, lips still a hairs’ breadth apart. You slept soundly that night.

Two years later

You stood at the airport terminal, tapping your foot in excitement and anticipation.

Alex was coming home.

Amsterdam had been the start of a new routine for you both. He’d had to fly straight back to his post in Bahrain, but he hadn’t left without your number. You’d scribbled it in a tiny space of blank skin on his wrist, just below a line of barbed wire. You’d nearly added a heart, but worried at the last moment that it would be too intimate and instead settled on a poorly drawn shoelace, haphazardly tied around the barbed wire. 

Alex had come back from that assignment with an addition to his sleeve that no one else was likely to notice. But you noticed.

You had picked him up from the airport then, too, and you’d stayed up all night, talking about everything from Alex‘s assignment that he was able to share and everything you had done in the time since. It hadn’t been much. Despite therapy, a strict gym routine, and a full plate at work (your director was thrilled to have you back), you’d been having nightmares. And early the next morning when you’d woken up on the couch where you'd fallen asleep, gasping for air and desperately trying to blink away the image of Sasha your subconscious had dredged up, Alex had pulled you into his lap and hushed you, stroking your hair and rocking gently.

“He’ll never hurt anyone again, angel. None of them are ever getting out, and it’s all because of you. You were so brave.”

You’d made each other house keys later that day. You’d joked weeks later that he should give up his apartment, seeing as he spent most nights at your townhouse anyway. He didn’t, and the change of scenery when you both stayed there was nice. You were particularly grateful when he was gone- staying there, surrounded by him, helped ease his absence- but you still felt just a bit of disappointment. You’d been joking, but you would have let him move in without a moment’s hesitation if he’d said yes.

Since the first time you’d picked him up, there hadn’t been a day that Alex was stateside that you hadn’t seen each other. This assignment had been the longest, and with the least contact. He’d been gone for nearly three months and you’d only heard from him twice- once to tell you he’d landed and once to tell you his flight information to come home.

You’d arrived at the airport half an hour before the time he’d given you, too impatient to spend the time flitting uselessly around your townhouse. Dinner was in the oven, the pantry was overfilled with snacks, and you’d made gallons of the sweet tea Alex was so fond of. Your spare room was ready with clean sheets and a lavender oil diffuser, and you’d laid out his favorite plaid pajama pants on the bathroom counter. You’d smiled to yourself as you fingered the soft material. Sometime in the early weeks of staying together, Alex had emerged from his room wearing them with one of the tank tops he usually wore to the gym.

“Oh, so we’re working out now?” you’d teased. You were curled up on the couch, flipping through channels in search of a good movie. Alex hadn’t answered right away, and you looked up to see him rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“I, uh. I don’t really have too many t-shirts,” he’d mumbled. He shrugged at your incredulous look. “I’ve been on my own for a long time. Never really worn a shirt around here.”

You’d felt the heat rising in your cheeks as you cocked an eyebrow at him. “So then take it off.” Flustering Alex never ceased to amuse you, and didn’t fail now as his cheeks flushed red.

“You’re… you’d be okay with that?” You leveled a stare at him as if to ask “seriously?” and he shifted his weight, debating. After a few seconds, he reached for the back of the shirt and tugged it off. You stared openly at him. You’d assumed he’d be gorgeous, had imagined it, but your fantasies couldn’t compare to reality. Your eyes had gone first to the solitary tattoo on his chest- a dagger through the center of an open triangle with a lightning bolt on one end. Then they’d followed the trail of hair that led down and fastened on the lines of muscles along his hips. Your mouth watered. You wanted to touch them, run your tongue along them. They clenched as Alex shifted again, clearing his throat, and you looked up to see him looking, of all things, self-conscious. You let out a low, long wolf-whistle and he huffed lightly. “Hush up with all that,” he grumbled good-naturedly, dropping onto the couch and pulling you into his side. “Although I suppose I should expect it. You did call me pretty once, after all.” Your cheeks had flamed, but the outcome had been more than worth the momentary embarrassment. He’d slowly stopped wearing shirts to bed, in either of your homes, and you’d done your level best to keep your ogling to a minimum.

The tram slid into the station and you held your breath, as you’d been doing every time it arrived.

Your eyes landed on a tall head of messy brown hair, just over the top of the crowd. Your grin widened until you were sure it would split your face. You watched Alex step onto the escalator, searching the crowd for you.

You held up the houndstooth scarf he’d given you before he left for his first new assignment after Amsterdam. “Something to remember me by,” he’d said, fingers catching on the tassels even as he pressed it into your hands. As if you could ever forget him.

You caught sight of the matching scarf he wore, the one you’d given him at the airport when he’d come back from that assignment. Then his eyes met yours and he lifted his hand, offering a weak attempt to meet your smile. Your heart sank. He looked haunted, and exhausted. The circles under his eyes were far, far worse than any you’d seen before. He looked thinner, and there was a vacancy in his eyes that hurt your soul to see.

You pushed through the crowd when you saw him tap the shoulder of the man in front of him, making his way down as fast as he could. You broke through the last line of people just as his boots hit the floor and you sprinted the two steps between you to launch yourself into his arms. He wrapped you up like you weighed nothing, lifting you off your feet in a bone-crushing hug. You lifted one hand to run through the hair at the back of his head as he held you.

As if they were miles away, you heard passers-by coo. You paid them no mind but the common courtesy to not wrap your legs around Alex’s waist in such a public place, instead dangling from his hold by your arms around his neck. You asked nothing, and he offered nothing. When he put you down, he smiled. It wasn’t his usual mirthful, bright, Alex smile. But it was better. 

“Can I stay with you for a couple of days?” he murmured. 

“Silly man. Of course you can.” You trailed one hand to his cheek. He leaned in, then turned his head to kiss your palm. Goosebumps broke out over your skin. “You know you don’t have to ask.”

He was quiet for the drive, only clasping your free hand in both of his lightly. At home, you ushered him off to shower while you finished dinner. When he stepped into the kitchen, still damp the way you hated to be, you dropped the spoon in your hand.

“Alex,” you choked out. He had lost a notable amount of weight, but that wasn’t what held your focus. Angry marks ran down his torso, ranging in severity from scrapes and bruises of varying colors to a deep gash across his lower abdomen that wrapped around his side. You stumbled toward him, nearly losing your footing in your rush, and he sprang forward to catch you. Your fingertips ran gently over the gash across in his side and he hissed quietly, muscles tensing. “Sorry,” you whispered, still surveying the damage. He’d been wearing a long-sleeved shirt when you picked him up, but now you could see more cuts and bruises on his arms, even beneath the heavy line work of his tattoos. 

Tears filled your eyes as your hands hovered just over his skin, afraid to touch him lest he break.

“I’m okay,” he said. He didn’t reach for you, allowing you to inventory his wounds. “It’ll heal.”

You shook your head, reaching for his hand. “Come on,” you said softly. You led him to the bathroom, sat him down on the toilet, and collected your first aid kit. You perched on his knee, trying to keep the majority of your weight off of him. He chuckled as you wavered, struggling to keep your balance.

“You won’t break me.” He rested a hand on your hip as you relaxed your stance. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, only occasionally flinching as you applied salve and bandages to the worst of the cuts.

After dinner, you turned on reruns of an old sitcom with the volume low and dozed on the couch. At some point, you roused when you felt Alex lift you up.

“You shouldn’t be carrying me,” you said sleepily. Alex made a dismissive noise, nudging open your bedroom door and crawling into your bed with you still in his arms. You fell asleep that night laying on his chest with his heartbeat in your ear.

It was weeks later that you jumped awake when you heard Alex yelling, flying up and down the hall to his room. You could see him thrashing in the moonlight that shone through the window. You called his name, but to no avail- he couldn’t hear you through whatever he heard in his nightmare. You turned on the light and then knelt on the bed to grab his wrist. Instantly, he flew forward. He had you pinned to the foot of the bed before you could blink, one arm holding down your midsection while the other hand wrapped around your throat.

You froze, banishing the fear that pricked the back of your mind. You took a deep breath as the wildess in his eyes faded, making way for horror. He scrambled backward until his back forcibly hit the headboard, eyes fixed on you as he whispered your name.

“Did I hurt you? Oh, God, if I hurt you…” His voice and body shook violently, and he scrabbled at the sheets in a full-blown panic. You’d sprung up as soon as he’d let you go, crawling toward him and reaching out.

“You didn’t hurt me. I’m okay, Alex. You’re okay. Come here.”

“No!” he shouted. He seemed to shrink even further back against the headboard, shaking his head frantically. You paused. “No,” he whispered. “I- I didn’t mean- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-”

You crawled the rest of the way to him, still with one hand outstretched. You laid it on his cheek as you crept toward him until your knees straddled his hips. You pressed as close as you could, wrapping your arms around him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, desperate to reach up. To take the comfort you offered. To touch you. But he wouldn’t. 

“You didn’t hurt me,” you repeated. You took one of his shaking hands in yours, raising it to your throat where it had been a moment before.  Alex shuddered violently. “Look.” Gently, you pried open his fingers until they lay flat against your skin, and you dragged them down to rest over your heart. “I’m right here, and I’m okay. Okay? You didn’t hurt me. It’s my own fault, I know better. I shouldn’t have touched you.”

He was shaking his head, nearly incoherent in anguish. “No, no, it’s not your fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault.”

You grasped his head firmly. “Stop,” you whispered. “It’s no one’s fault, then. Okay? Everything is okay.”

Alex sobbed, finally leaning up to tug you closer, tucking his face into your neck. “You would never hurt me,” you repeated. You lifted your hands to his head and scratched lightly at his scalp. “My sweet Alex, you could never hurt me.”

For all the post-assignment nights you’d both had, you’d never seen Alex cry. It was a strange experience, and it broke your heart. He made practically no sound, but the force with which his body shook made the whole bed vibrate. You tightened your grip on him, tilting his head up to yours. He wouldn’t meet your gaze; his eyes were half-lidded, red-rimmed, and fixed on your mouth. You leaned down and he sucked in a breath. Just before your lips touched his, he whispered in a strangled voice. “Don’t.” You froze. “You can’t kiss me.” The roots beneath your skin splintered, breaking apart from each other.

There hadn’t been any more kisses, or discussions of kisses past, since Amsterdam. You’d tried to bury the attraction you felt, the longing to be near him, but you’d come to hope that it was returned. You knew, at least, that your presence was equally wanted. But in this moment, Alex was uncommonly still, eyes closed. Your heart had stopped beating. You leaned back, watching his face for any hint as to what he was feeling. Anything that might lessen the shock. You saw only pain there.

You had horribly misjudged his feelings, horribly misjudged the situation. You wanted to bring him comfort, of course, but you also wanted to show him your heart. To know his heart for you. You’d been selfish. Bile raced up the back of your throat, threatening to come out as you began to raise yourself up on your knees. The moment your hands left his head, though, Alex’s eyes snapped open. 

“Wait,” he breathed. He lurched forward, clumsily grabbing at the backs of your thighs. 

You could feel tears stinging your eyes. Shame and rejection and despair pumped themselves through your veins with every hard thump of your heart. “I’m sorry-” you began.

Alex had drawn in a deep breath. Now, he cut you off. “You can’t kiss me because I want to kiss you,” he blurted out. That stopped you dead in your tracks. He had looked back to your mouth now. One thumb stroked along your bottom lip as he swallowed, hard. “I want to kiss you so badly it hurts.”

Intentional flashed through your mind in a whole new light, this time. 

A breathless laugh escaped you at that. “Well I want to kiss you, too. So why can’t I?” 

Alex tore his eyes up with a visible effort. He cleared his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you every day since Amsterdam,” he said solemnly. You felt your heart soar up, up, and away from you. “I didn’t want to stop kissing you in Amsterdam.”

You lowered yourself back to his lap, stroking his hair and the cuts in it. On a balmy night that you’d slept on your balcony, when his head had been in your lap and you’d traced the scars, he’d told you he’d gotten them when he nearly died. “Explosion launched a piece of metal straight at me. Cut right down to the skull. They didn’t think I was going to wake up.” You shook the memory away.

“Then why did you?” you whispered.

Alex was watching your mouth again. “I didn’t want you to think I wanted you just because of the outfit, or that… that I’d kissed you in the club just to kiss you, just because I could.” His voice dropped as his eyes fluttered closed. “But God, did I want to. I didn’t want to stop.” Chills broke out over your skin. His eyes snapped open, blazing with resolve. “I wanted you to want to kiss me. I need you to want me.”

You lowered yourself further, stroking your thumbs up from the tips of his mustache to the tops of his cheekbones. “You didn’t think I wanted to kiss you when I kissed you that night? Didn’t think I’ve wanted you all this time since?”

“I… I thought you just wanted comfort. I didn’t think it had anything to do with me.” The hurt must have flashed across your face, because Alex leaned forward, cupping your cheek and pulling you closer to him by your waist. “I didn’t care. If all you ever wanted from me was comfort, I’d give it gladly without expecting anything in return. And… I had hoped. Since then.” A blush had risen in his cheeks then. “That what I was feeling wasn’t one-sided. I thought maybe, but…”

“I do want to kiss you,” you murmured. “And what you’re feeling is definitely not one-sided.”

He made a pained sound, leaning up seemingly against his own will until his lips barely brushed yours. “Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear.”

“I’m not.”

There was a beat of stillness before he closed the distance, sealing your mouths together. His tongue seared a trail along the seam of your lips until you parted them for him, and it was like a switch flipped. His body came alive; hands roamed along your back as he alternately gripped your sides and pulled you closer; his chest heaved under your touch. He finally settled on squeezing the tops of your thighs while you tugged at his hair and moved against him, eliciting soft gasps and moans from both of you. The marks across his body had healed, leaving new scars in their places. You danced your fingertips along his bare collarbones, across the Delta team tattoo over his heart, over the scars and down his sculpted pecs and toned abs, drawing out a groan from him when you met the waistband of his pajamas.

“Wait,” he rasped. You waited, stroking the soft trail of hair beneath his belly button. He shuddered under your touch, cursed, and reached down to still your hand as he exerted visible self-control to look up at you. You blinked innocently at him. “You make it so hard to concentrate,” he said mildly, though his pupils were blown wide as his eyes roamed over your face. You giggled at that, which drew out a smile. He met your gaze briefly before looking away and clearing his throat again.

“I love you.” Every root in your body, every space along the stems along your skin and wrapped around your bones, burst forth in uncontrollable buds. You held your breath. “And I don’t expect… nothing has to change. If you don’t, that’s okay. I’ll still give you whatever you want-”

Your heart constricted painfully. You laid a gentle finger against his lips, drawing his attention from the floor. “I would never use you like that,” you said softly. You took in a deep breath. “I’ve loved you for a long time. Since Amsterdam, at least.” Breath had rushed out of him. His face glowed as he looked up at you in adoration. 

“At least?” he breathed, teasing even in his disbelief. You shrugged.

“I don’t know. It might have been since you stepped between Kate and I.”

His eyes shone at that. A darkness descended, though, clouding his gaze. “And you’re not… I don’t…” You understood what he couldn’t say. You lifted his chin.

“You do not scare me,” you said firmly. He swallowed, looking away, and you wiggled his chin to get him to look back at you. “You would never, never hurt me, Alex. I’ve never felt as safe as I feel with you.” He nodded slowly. You leaned forward, pressing him back against the headboard to kiss him hard. You took control, and he let you. You poured all of your longing, love, desire, and reassurance into the kiss, leaning heavily against him as your mouths moved. Your hands were all over him, tracing scars and tattoos and patterns only you could see.

His hands crept under your shirt, skimming your sides until they rested between your shoulder blades. He squeezed lightly, leaning forward to deepen the kiss. He tilted his head and you let your hands brush down his ribs to trace the beginnings of the v-cut you’d always wanted to touch. You dipped your fingertips beneath the band of his pajamas and he lurched forward, breath leaving in a rush as though he’d been punched. 

“Wait,” he gasped again, hands flying to your hips. 

You huffed out an amused sound. “You know, if you keep stopping me like this, I’m going to worry that you don’t actually want me.”

Alex tugged your hips against his, wiping the smirk from your face as he leaned forward. His face had flushed cherry red, and the uncertainty with which he spoke was preciously endearing. “I think that you can feel perfectly well that that’s not true,” he murmured. And oh, goodness, could you. 

You hummed in agreement, grinding your hips down on the proof of his desire. Alex groaned, grip tightening and face reddening even further. “I’ll never say no to you,” he ground out. That piqued your interest. You relented, sitting back to look at him curiously. “But I just… I didn’t want our first time to be… I’d never imagined…” His voice softened as he trailed off, eyes flitting to the foot of the bed. He didn’t want it to happen in the wake of his remorse, weighed by his inner turmoil.

You felt your heart melt. You’ve imagined this?

Your hand flew to your mouth when Alex’s darkening gaze told you you’d spoken aloud. His voice was gravel when he spoke. “Yes.” One hand stroked the scars on your arm, the other the side of your throat. “There’s a reason I usually get up before you.” 

“Oh,” you said. And you realized, with a start, that he usually did. Ohhh. He was looking down now, shame coloring his cheeks. Anticipation lit beneath your skin, tempered only by the exhaustion evident on his face. You tilted his chin up. “I’ve imagined it, too.” He twitched beneath you, face a display of utter shock. You traced the shadows beneath his eyes tenderly.

“Take me to bed,” you whispered. “We’ll sleep tonight. Our first time can be any time you want, however you’ve imagined it.” A slow smile spread over Alex’s face. 

“Yes ma’am,” he said. Then he abruptly stood with you still in his lap, wrapped your legs around him, and carried you shrieking down the hall to your bed.

-

The first time was the next morning, slow and soft as the sun breaking on the horizon. It was just as gentle, adoring, and attentive as you’d come to expect from Alex. Lush, languid, loving. 

“Just like you’ve imagined?”

“Mhmm. And so much better.”

The next time was at Alex’s apartment as you packed his things the morning after that, half on the couch and eventually on the floor. Giggling, silly, and so natural. Just like you’d imagined.

Then there were the gym showers after he’d benched nearly his body weight. You’d teased him for too long, straddling him and giggling as you leaned down to whisper filthy things in his ear. He’d given up halfway through his set after nearly dropping the bar on his face, hauling you furtively to the locker rooms. Neither of you had quite imagined that.

The week Alex let his apartment go, you literally ran into Kate in the Langley halls, nearly spilling both of your coffees and successfully scattering the files she’d been holding. 

“Trip,” she greeted warmly. “Living up to your name, I see.” She waved off your profuse apologies, walking with you and asking about how you’d been since you last spoke some weeks ago. “I see Alex changed his mailing address,” she said with a sly smile. 

You raised your eyebrows, faux innocence dripping from your voice. “Oh? Was it unexpected?”

“No. In fact, it was quite expected.” She was beyond pleased, barely containing her smile before walking into her briefing. She took your hand just before you turned toward the elevators. “You’re so good for each other.” You’d smiled for the rest of the day, thrilled to have been right about her intentions. You couldn’t wait to tell Alex. 

When you got home that afternoon, he wasn’t there, but there was a note on the island. “Gonna be late, dinner at 7?” There was an address for a fancy restaurant just a few blocks away that you’d mentioned wanting to try. You smiled, walked into your bedroom, and smiled even wider when you saw the dress and heels he’d set out for you. The dress was a rich, sapphire blue satin you’d bought some months back for a wedding that was unexpectedly canceled. You’d whined to Alex that you’d have to return it without ever having worn it and he’d insisted you keep it. “I promise you I can find some occasion for you to wear it,” he’d said. 

You showered, re-did your makeup, and then slid the dress on. The sleeves fit tightly to your elbows, covering your scars, before flaring into bells that draped past your knees. The back was open all the way down, and a provocative slit up the side showed off most of your thigh. Alex hadn’t seen it on you yet, and you were eager to see his reaction. You’d learned since that first morning that he loved your thighs, something that was particularly delightful to you. You pulled on the silver pumps, considered a wrap, and decided against it. The weather report showed a warm evening with only a slight breeze.

You thought about taking your car, but decided not to when you saw that Alex’s was gone. It wasn’t so warm that you’d be sweaty by the time you got there, and it wasn’t so far that your feet would hurt, even in your heels. You fixed your hair, took one last look in the mirror, and set off. 

The streets of D.C. were as lively as ever; people bustled up and down the sidewalk, taxis honked at each other, birds chirped, and you could hear children laughing from the park across the street. You smiled to yourself, grateful that you loved your city. When you reached the restaurant, you paused to admire the plate glass windows and gothic architecture before walking in.

Your eyebrows shot up when a doorman swung the door open, bowing slightly as you walked past. You murmured your thanks before approaching the maître d', an elderly gentleman in a tux who greeted you with a stiff bow and a warm smile.

“Good evening, my dear. Do you have a reservation?”

“I believe so,” you said, sure that Alex had thought this far ahead. “Seven o’clock for Alex Keller?” The maître d's face lit up and he extended his arm to you.

“Ah, yes! Mr. Keller. He asked me to seat you upon arrival and extend his deepest apologies for his tardiness; he shall arrive presently.”

You pursed your lips, trying to hide your smile. “Thank you so much.”

“But of course! May I interest you in anything to drink while you wait? A glass of wine, perhaps?”

“Um,” you began, and it was the maître d's turn to hide a smile at your ineloquence. “Could I just have a glass of water, please?”

You’d reached a table at the far side of the restaurant, just against a wall filled with expensive-looking, tasteful art. The maître d’ pulled out your chair, lowering you into it and nodding emphatically. “One glass of water, in just one moment.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. You took the opportunity to peer around the restaurant, noting the chandeliers and formally dressed staff. You wondered, vaguely, whether Alex had something up his sleeve or whether he’d just picked the place because you’d been interested. Or whether he’d picked it for an excuse to get you into, and later out of, that dress.

A waiter brought your water. You thanked him and, just as you picked it up, you heard Alex.

“She didn’t go falling on you, now did she?”

“No, sir, not at all!” replied the maître d’. You turned, gaping at your- boyfriend? Partner? There didn’t seem to be a good term for you two, and you hadn’t discussed any labels. You settled on person in your mind. And your person was beaming, eyes sparkling in mirth as he walked to the table. He held out a hand to you as he arrived.

“You expect me to kiss you after that?”

The maître d’ laughed sharply, quickly covering his mouth and excusing himself with a bow. 

“I do,” said Alex smoothly. You grudgingly rose to your feet for a chaste kiss, eyeing him appreciatively as you did. He’d picked a black suit and tie with a silk shirt that matched your sapphire dress. His hair was, as always, out of place and wild. It just added to his charm. He looked devastatingly handsome. He seemed to think the same as you, holding you out in front of him and whistling low. He spun you around and was shaking his head when you faced him again. His eyes had darkened nearly to match his shirt.

“You look ravishing,” he said solemnly.

You felt a flash of shyness before the lust in his gaze caught up with your own, and then you felt just as ravishing as you were sure he thought you were.

“Business go well?” you asked as you slid back into the chair Alex had pulled out for you.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he sat. “Extremely.” There was a twinkle in his eye that made you squint at him, but he waved a hand. “Later. Have you looked at the menu yet? Pick something and tell me about your day.”

So you did. Your department had just begun using a new program and the legwork associated with updating all of your files was extensive. You’d been tasked with sorting and fixing error codes, and the list was thousands of lines long. It was tedious work. You paused to order when a waiter arrived, then regaled Alex with overly dramatic tales of your boredom, making him laugh loudly enough to look around the otherwise quiet room sheepishly. 

“I think this place is juuust a little too fancy for us.” He’d lifted his fingers, holding them close together as he smiled, and suddenly you were back in the basement where you’d met. Your waiter delivered two plates of delectable looking food, then. You both thanked him, studied your plates, and dug in. Your food tasted even better than it smelled, and you assumed Alex felt the same as he chewed slowly with a blissful glaze over his eyes. 

“Did you ever get those guns?” He blinked at you, snapping out of whatever higher plane he’d been transported to, utterly lost. “Right before Amsterdam. You said you were this close to getting those guns.” You mimed his pinched fingers, covering your mouth with your other hand. Alex reached up to cover his mouth, too. His shoulders were shaking and he shook his head, swallowing the food he’d been chewing. 

“Where did that come from?” he chuckled. You made a face at him and reached across the table to pinch his nose, which only earned you an undignified snort. 

“This!” You tapped your fingers together in a hyperbolic imitation of the gesture. Alex was full-blown laughing now, covering his mouth with a linen napkin and trying to quiet himself. He nodded, snickering into his wrist as he lowered his hand 

“Yes, angel, I got the guns.”

You grinned at him. “See? How hard was that? Now your turn, tell me about your day.”

He shook his head, still smiling, and held up a finger for you to wait while he finished the last of his meal. You took advantage of the pause in conversation to finish your own food, leaning slightly back in your chair as you pushed your plate away. 

“Good?” He asked. You nodded, patting your belly. 

“So good.”

“Dessert?”

“Gosh, no,” you chuckled. “I don’t think I could even split something with you right now.”

“Good, neither could I.” He made a little cutting gesture across his throat to someone over your shoulder, and you turned to see the maître d’ nod in your direction. “Business was good,” Alex began. He’d taken the day off in order to sort through the last of the details of moving in with you. “Got all my paperwork done with my leasing office, got my address changed for all of my bills, canceled the internet, hit the DMV, all of that.” Alex stood as your waiter approached, pulling his wallet and an envelope out of his pocket. 

He set the envelope on the table while he fished out his card for the waiter, exchanging it for a bottle of champagne with two flutes. 

Your heartbeat sped. 

“Are we celebrating something?” you asked, barely concealing the quaver in your voice.

Alex flashed a grin at you as he opened the bottle, pouring you a flute. “Gosh, I hope so,” he mumbled. Before you could question it, he handed you a flute and the envelope. “Open it,” he said softly. 

Your heartbeat had slowed considerably. Whatever this was, it wasn’t what you’d expected from that opening. You squashed the pang of disappointment you felt. It’s too early for that you told yourself. You didn’t believe it. 

Regardless, this had to be something huge. Alex didn’t make a big deal out of nothing. Whatever was inside, he’d already seen. The envelope had been opened. You pulled out a bundle of papers, unfolded them, and promptly dropped them to cover your mouth with both hands. 

“Alex?” you whispered. Tears were already filling your eyes. He nodded. 

“Laswell approved it. It’s conditional upon my acceptance, though. I told her I’d have to talk to you first. Comes with a bit of a paycut.”

You were shaking your head violently, already moving toward him with arms outstretched. “Oh, Alex,” you sobbed. “Alex, my Alex, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter, you’re going to be home. Oh, Alex.” You were weeping now, waves of relief and gratitude coursing through your veins. 

He chuckled low, pressing his lips to your ear. “You’re saying my name so much it’s almost like we’re in bed,” he whispered. You hit his shoulder, face flushing as you sputtered. He laughed deep in his chest, squeezing you a little tighter. 

You hadn’t even known Alex had filed for a departmental transfer. You hadn’t even looked yet at what it was. You let go of him with one hand to scrabble for the paper, lifting it to eye-level. 

Language officer, operating out of Langley in Washington D.C. 

Alex breathed a laugh as you held onto him for dear life. “You know, I was hoping you’d be a little happier,” he teased. You smacked his shoulder lightly again, laughing a watery laugh and fumbling for a napkin to wipe your face. He let you go and picked one up, turning back to you and suddenly looking quite nervous. 

“But,” he said shakily. He wiped his hands down the front of his slacks. “It does make me feel a little more confident doing this.” He reached into his jacket. 

And he dropped to one knee, withdrawing a black velvet box.

Your heart stopped. 

Your breath caught in your throat. 

Alex had squeezed his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. He opened his eyes and breathed out your name. 

“I never imagined myself falling in love. I thought I was going to be on my own for my whole life, and I was okay with that. Until I met you.” He opened the box and you let out a sob, covering your mouth again. The ring was two slim, twined bands- a black gold string of barbed wire and a white gold shoelace- with a sparkling diamond nestled between them. Alex looked down at it. His voice was low, solemn. “You wrapped me around you so fast it made my head spin. Now, I can’t imagine life without you.” He leveled you with an intense look. “I don’t want to imagine life without you. 

You were nodding vigorously, and he chuckled softly, eyes shining. “What are you saying yes for? You have no idea what I’m about to ask, I could want you to join a cult. Just calm down.”

You laughed, all progress toward putting yourself together hopelessly lost. You were a blubbering mess; shaky, tear streaked, the whole nine yards.

Alex’s face softened as he looked up at you with such adoration that it might break your heart. The roots beneath your skin had overgrown your whole skeleton, every organ. There were nothing but blooms in your body, now- bright, white, sweet flowers. 

“There’s nothing I could ever do to earn your love. But if you let me, I will dedicate my life to just that. Will you make me the absolute happiest, luckiest man in the world and be my wife?” You hadn’t stopped nodding, and you whispered “yesyesyesyesyes” as you launched yourself forward. True to form, you stumbled along the way. Alex, being Alex, was ready for you, anticipating your clumsiness. He laughed, the best laugh you’d ever heard from him and suddenly you realized that the whole restaurant was cheering and clapping and calling out encouragement as he lifted you off the floor and spun you around. 

You kissed him, and felt him smile against your lips. He set you down just long enough to pull the ring from the box, sliding it onto your finger with ease. 

“How did you know...?”

“I… may have taken the USB ring from Amsterdam.”

You looked at him incredulously. He gave a rueful smile. 

“Call me a dreamer,” he murmured. Just a trace of nerves tinging his voice. You took his hand in yours, raising it to your lips. 

“I’ll call you anything you want, so long as I can call you mine.”

The grin that split his face was instant and wide. “That was so, so cheesy.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up toward him. “You love it.”

“I love you,” he whispered. He pulled you close, kissing you breathless, people be damned. 

The lilies that had grown to cover your skin all reached up for him as he did. 

[deadlynavigation]

Can you write another male Wednesday where they do get married and are newly weds? Please??

Married Life

Pairing: Male!Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warnings: Blunt suggestion of smut, marriage, mention of torture, contact with hot liquid

Author's Note: Ooh, I like you, anon. You used the word please. Characters aged up, same as other fics.

I do not own The Addams Family. Pls don't come after me.

Do not copy, plagiarize, or translate any of my works or their assets.

“Wednesday, put me down,” You laugh, hands gripping the back of his neck. He shakes his head, a small smile making its way onto his face.

“Is it not customary for husbands to carry their wives over the threshold?” Wednesday questions sarcastically, knowing full well the tradition called for that.

You shake your head in exaggerated exasperation, doing your best to restrain your grin. It’ll only encourage his snarky attitude, and you can’t have that.

Wednesday smiles down at you before looking back up at your new home, one that was bought months ago as a post-wedding dwelling for you both. It’s a beautiful house- dark paint covering it, with shades of black complimenting the trimming and accents. And though the house is large, the purple-leaf plum trees provide excellent dimension, as well as a small pop of color. It took days for you to convince Wednesday that the color the plants offered was a good thing, and not everything had to be pitch black. But the convincing was worth it, you think as you stare at your new home. The purple really does tie it together.

Wednesday seems to think so too, judging by his awestruck stare. You laugh quietly at his admiration, determined not to break the moment’s serenity. That, and he looks too sweet to interrupt.

And so you enter the house, or rather, Wednesday carries you into it. Once in the foyer, he gently sets you down, rubbing his hand along the small of your back once he does. You let yourself enjoy the vintage-like atmosphere of the house, your eyes wander over the walls and ceiling before returning to your husband.

Your husband. You could get used to that.

*___*

Barely two weeks into your marriage, and you’re loving every second of it. Sure, the occasional bicker over what type of carpet to buy or what color the sitting room should be painted, but other than that, life is peaceful.

You think about this as you walk down the stairs towards the kitchen, steps echoing through the wide hallways. Light from the windows shines onto the wooden floors, warming the otherwise brisk corridors in early autumnal sunshine.

Finally, you make it to the kitchen, where Wednesday has already set up camp. He’s fretting over the counters, cooking up a storm. That’s another thing about your spouse- almost everyone in his family knows how to cook, and cook well. Of course those skills were handed down to him.

“Hey, babe.” You call out, leaning against the island countertop. Wednesday turns to you, his icy eyes warming a little with your presence.

“Good morning, cara mia.” He strides over to you, wrapping his arms lazily around your hips. You lean into your husband, your eyes fluttering shut in his comforting presence.

“Did you sleep well?” Wednesday murmurs, dropping his chin to rest on your head.

“I did, especially with you there,” you respond, sighing happily.

“I’m flattered, my love.” Wednesday grins. He kisses your head once, twice, before leaning back. “Now, how would you like some coffee?”

You groan. “I love you.”

“I know,” Wednesday smirks, but after a sharp glance from you, he backtracks. “I love you too, cara mia. I’ll go get your coffee.”

He walks back to the countertop, reaching for your favorite mug and bringing it back to you. You take it from him, not-so-accidentally brushing your fingers over his to make him blush like a schoolgirl.

“Thank you, babe.” You whisper, planting a kiss on his cheek before sitting yourself on the top of the counter.

“Anything for you, Y/n.” He follows you to the counter, waiting for you to open your legs so he can slip in between them. “Coffee, torture… pleasure.”

You almost give in, but you’re rudely reminded of your coffee mug when the hot liquid splashes onto your wrist.

“Wednesday, let me finish my coffee before you eat me out.” He snorts at that, lowering his head to hide his grin before backing off.

“Of course, cara mia.” And with a kiss to your forehead, he’s swept away from you and back in front of his cooking, a grin still tainting his lips.

Yeah, you could definitely get used to this.

(Navigation)

[inkspottie]

Accursed- Sebastian or Sadao!

Gnashing, shredding. Flesh stretched against the maw of the monster. Ripping, pulling the tang of iron is hot on his mouth. Lapping it up like it was an oasis he shudders and groans unable to stop the instincts that flow through him.

Hooks dig into his mind, tugging him about like he was marionette on a string.

“Well done Z-31. The project was successful and now we won’t have to worry about a breach. With him gone there is no one to usurp the facility.”

Ribs poke out of the meal he had been devouring, breathing heavily the flashes of blue and wide eyes shocks him out of the haze.

Blood spills on the floor, warm and sticky and he’s covered in it. It warms his cool scales, a blood bath. And the corpse?

It was Sebastian.

“Our little killer. Isn’t that right Z-31?” He feels hands on his shoulders looking over seeing the darkness of Mr. Shade, the smile warping his face.

He can’t speak, only whines and whimpers leave his mouth. He can’t move, he only sits in the carnage of his friend, of his companion.

“Well done. Well done.”

He grips his head as Shade laughs, the sound twisting and writhing in his ears.

“Sadao.”

The corpse whispers, voice ragged and quiet. “Sadao.”

“Sadao wake up!”

Sadao’s eyes fly open and he gags, tumbling to the side and heaves but nothing comes up. His flesh isn’t the color of the spider-lillies that would grow on the side of their house back in Japan.

Instead it was the muted beige and green.

He shakes and shudders, closing his eyes shut as he tries to burn the images of the nightmare. He feels hands touch his cool skin and flinches yanking away.

“Hey…hey, it was just a nightmare. You were digging into your skin really badly.” Sebastian’s voice is like a cool breeze against his fevered mind. Gently caressing him soothing him.

Sadao gulps for air, gripping his hair seeing the indentations on his arm where he had been gripping himself. Blood is smeared and he can’t look at it. Instead he just stares at the ground with heavy breaths.

“Sadao.”

“This accursed body, I can’t take it anymore.” Sadao whispers his eyes shutting, clenching as if that would rid the imagery of Sebastian’s corpse.

He feels smooth scales gently wrap around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He leans into the scales, feeling them tickle at his face.

Sebastian gently claws his fingers through Sadao’s hair, which makes Sadao whimper quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Sebastian whispers, “I still get nightmares too. They’re always so realistic. So horrible. Me hurting friends, family. You.”

“I was eating you. And Mr. Shade…”

Sebastian gently shushes him, not wanting him to continue. “It’s not real. I’m here. Those instincts can’t control you. You’re in charge here.”

“But what if I’m not? What if..”

“If you think like that you’ll never be. You have to be the one to hold the reins. They don’t control you. You control you.” Sebastian says gently, his hands still carding through Sadao’s thin strands. It was the longest he has ever seen it, and it suited him.

Sadao leans into the touch, feeling like he was wrapped in a warm blanket provided by Sebastian and his body.

“How can you do it? How can you control the urges.”

“I’m the one on the pilot seat, and I’ll be damned if some animal tells me what to do.” Sebastian growls, the markings flickering slightly.

Sadao can’t help but chuckle, “You are fascinating.”

“I know, I’m quite the specimen.”

“Indeed. I need to further my research.”

Sebastian raises a brow seeing Sadao cough into his shoulder at the joke. “Did you just make a joke? Oh my God you’re delirious.”

Sadao grunts, “Refrain from your antics.”

“There he is. That’s the Sadao I know. Feeling better?”

He hums leaning against his companion’s body, “Better now that you are here.”

“Good…good. I’m not going to let that slide though.”

“I regret opening my mouth.”

This makes Sebastian laugh before Sadao quietly follows and they settle down resting next to each other with hopes of a better dream to follow them.