#the steam anniversary is in a couple of days i just realized

[boffinhillem]

any shiki enjoyers? she's best girl to me.. have a doodle i liked of her

[kairiscorner]

happy birthday — miles 42 x reader (birthday special)

↳ summary: miles has been really busy a lot lately, training hard under his uncle to better his tactics at fighting and balancing school and chores on top of everything, he just kind of forgets today was even special. but luckily, you don't forget your boyfriend's birthday that easily. ↳ word count: 1,916

↳ a/n: i did not realize it was my son's birthday on the third, i'm so sorry it's late SJEBCBFIVBRFVBRBVVRBO BUT I HOPE THIS IS GOOD ENOUGH TO MAKE UP FOR IT, HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY MY BOYYYY AND I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE THIS <333

"got any idea what's up today, miles?" you asked miles with a big grin on your face as you caught miles in the halls before class began. he raised an eyebrow up at you as he glanced up at you after collecting all his books and everything else he needed for his first class of today before heading off. "um... no. is it movie night tonight? because sorry, i... i can't make it tonight, cielo." he muttered as he looked at you with eyes filled with hints of sadness and shame at not being able to hang out with you, despite really wanting to. his responsibilities as being the prowler, a student, and a son have got him really occupied lately. he can't really quit either of these full-time jobs he's got going on right now, and you couldn't blame him. you wished he went easier on himself, though, and took more breaks, took it a little easier on himself, maybe would blow off some steam from time to time and tell you at least how he feels so it doesn't bottle up inside him over time.

you held his hand and shook your head. "nah, silly, it's something more important!" you exclaimed with a grin. miles tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrow as he looked at you with a look of confusion. "um... hmm, is it a study night? i know it's not our anniversary yet, it's not your birthday, uh..." he mumbled as he closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his head, frustrated with himself because nothing came up in his mind. he didn't think there was anything worth such importance today, though if he was being honest, he wasn't sure what date it was today; he just got by the month by remembering what tests were when, if tonight had prowler activities, or if tonight was going to be laundry night with his mom. he was honestly drawing a blank here, he needed you to give him more obvious clues to help him find out what exactly was so important about today.

you sighed as you let go of his hand and folded your arms in front of your chest. miles' eyes widened as he felt you let go of his hand, he reached out for your hand again as he stepped forward towards you. "cielo, wait! please, i... i'm sorry." he apologized first as he stepped back and took in a breath. "can you just, um, tell me what's up today? i'm sorry, i've just been so swamped recently, and i know that's not the best excuse, but i'm not--" he went on and on, but was interrupted by the first bell. "ay, gotta go, cielo, we can talk about this later!" miles said as he scrambled for his stuff and ran off.

you waited for miles outside of his classroom once your class ended, though he had to stay behind and ask the teachers a couple of questions and clarifications over his homework since he was having a lot of backlog due to his duties as the prowler. miles caught a glimpse of you outside, though before he could call out to you or walk over to you, the next bell rang, and you had to attend to your next class. miles couldn't focus properly, he was overthinking about whether or not he upset you, or if you were already disappointed with him forgetting what day it was today. he wasn't able to check his phone or ask for the date today since he was busy catching up with schoolwork. eventually, miles caught you at lunch, but... you were with ganke. you were huddled over with him at his table, the two of you smiling and chuckling at each other as you showed him stuff on your phone.

miles trusted ganke, and ganke expressed how he didn't have any interest in butting in between you two, but the mere sight of you with ganke–all smiles with him and laughing together, after he hadn't been able to spend much time with you recently due to his responsibilities and all–it hurt him deeply, thinking he failed you and were seeking comfort with ganke. miles walked away, hurt and sad, but angry towards himself for the most part. he ate lunch alone, just like he did before befriending ganke and meeting you, but he felt like he deserved it for pushing you aside, even if he didn't mean to and wanted nothing more than to be by your side.

as miles headed home after school, not seeing you in the halls or at the school yard as he scanned his surroundings for you, he felt super dejected and disappointed in himself. he wanted to stop thinking about his responsibilities for once and just put all his time, effort, and focus on you and only you–but he knew that would be a mere twinkle in his eye, a dream that will only remain as that, a dream. but as he entered the front door of his home, he was greeted to the voices of all the important people he had in his life, with yours ringing distinctly in his ears.

"happy birthday, miles!"

miles stiffened as he heard those two words with his name following the greeting not long after. he blinked for a few times and looked around–his mom and uncle aaron were there, so were ganke and... you. wait, could this be the super important thing you hinted about today? oh, man, did he feel like an idiot–he never thought of his own birthday as something of importance, but you... you kept thinking about him, all day. miles was speechless as you approached him, all smiles, and pecked his cheek. "happiest birthday to you, miles." you said as you pulled away and presented to him the gift you had for him. miles looked at you with a puzzled look. "cielo... for-for me?" he asked you as you chuckled and nodded. "for who else, dummy?" you asked him as miles slowly took the gift and stammered. "i... but, cielo, i don't deserve this. i've missed out on countless dates and meet-ups with you, i keep pushing you aside even though i don't wanna, i--" miles rambled on and on, beating himself up for feeling inadequate at making you happy due to his repeated absences.

before he could continue, you hugged him tightly. "and it's okay, babe. you're good. you try, and even if it doesn't work out, it's the thought that counts. i'm already happy you think of me all the time and want to spend time with me, even if you can't. i love you, miles." you tell him in a gentle voice as miles hugs you back, bringing you closer to him as he kisses your cheek. "i really love you, too, mi cielo..." he mutters as you pull away from him and lead him to the couch for him to open his gift from you.

you handed him a thick box, it was wrapped in purple wrapping paper with green accents, with a green and black ribbon to tie it up. you encouraged miles to open it as ganke filmed it, with his uncle aaron and his mom watching intently. miles was gentle in unwrapping the gift, he didn't rip it open, he wanted to feel the suspense of opening the gift you got him. soon, when he saw what was inside, he gasped loudly as his eyes went wide. he kept repeating 'wait, no...' in a breathless, excited way as he realized you bought him the sneakers he had been wanting for the longest time. he could never ask his mom to buy it for him, and he was saving up to buy them himself, but to get them from you... oh, he felt like he had ascended.

"mi cielo, no freaking way...!" he exclaimed in an overjoyed manner with slight chuckles in his voice as his smile widened as the fact you gifted him the very sneakers he had wanted for a long time sunk in and made him momentarily forget the sadness he was feeling just earlier. his uncle teased you as he wished you didn't gift him those sneakers, he'd have a new obsession for a little while and keep his eyes out for him. "that boy's gonna be wary about me, asking me if i touched them. he's gonna be real overprotective of those, especially since they came from you." his uncle aaron quipped as miles told him that wasn't true. just a little true.

miles kept thanking you and kissed you on the cheek, and as ganke was filming, he encouraged you two to share a kiss. "c'mon, you dorks! for the camera! kiss! kiss! kiss!" he chanted, with uncle aaron chanting along with him. his mother chided the two, saying you two weren't going to be doing anything of the sort in front of them, but you decided you didn't care anymore and pulled miles in for a gentle kiss. miles' eyes widened even more as you kissed him, and though his mother cried out in surprise, with his uncle clapping and chuckling as ganke cheered for you two, he found himself not wanting to pull away and kissed you back.

miles pulled away and gazed at you, a smirk growing on his face as he kissed your cheek. "oh, how did i get so lucky? how could i have you, mi cielo? you know, i'll stop being too serious, you're the only lucky break i have from all the chaos in my life. i promise you, though, i'll make up for all the time that should've been just ours together. i swear, i'll make this place safer for you, i promise." he said as he interlocked his hand with yours, clutching the shoe box in his other hand. he kissed your lips and pulled away, causing you to giggle and get flustered. "i'll hold you to that, miles. but please... don't hesitate to come to me, talk to me, or do anything with me. i love you, babe, i don't mind if you miss a few dates or meet-ups, just be safe out there..." you whispered to him with a smile.

his mother retreated to grab a glass of wine as his uncle called out to her to save him a glass, with ganke chuckling as he saved the footage and teased you two lovebirds. "this... has got to be the best birthday ever." miles gushed as he ran a hand through your hair. you chuckled as you fidgeted with the end of his left braid in your hand. "even with your uncle and mom watching us kiss, with ganke filming all of it, probably never gonna let us live it down...?" you asked as you leaned closer to kiss him again and pulling away. miles smiled sweetly at you as he answered, "really." he kissed you again, with you reciprocating his kiss. that truly was going to be a birthday he'll remember, and he's gonna make sure he keeps his promises to you and work hard to earn your love and pay you back for the gift you gave him. though if you were to ask him, the only gift he really wanted was just to... hold you close, hear your voice, and just be with you on his birthday and for all the birthdays there were to come in the future with you, his sweetheart.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @pixqlsin @solecitoszn @q2ie @zalayni @anikaluv

[sun-stricken]

Random Gratsu hc’s

Job dates. Training dates. they’ve probably had like 3 real dates not counting anniversaries

Grays childhood nickname for Natsu was Ashes, it was one of the first he called him and probs the only one that wasn’t driven as an insult.

he stopped calling him that at some point in their early teens, but he accidentally let it slip post forming the team and Natsu wouldnt respond to anything else from him for like a week straight

Gray has chronic pain, and he will drape himself over Natsu when it gets bad bc hes a human heating pad. Natsu takes it in stride even if hes having a conversation with someone

If Natsu gets too flustered (or turned on, or angry) his temperature will rise a lot, and since Gray runs cold their first kiss (and plenty after) created light steam

its happened during most of their firsts as a couple and it always makes Gray laugh which in turn causes Natsu even more embarrassment which creates more steam

its a vicious cycle

Gray fell first, Natsu fell harder

Gray isnt bad at flirting per se, hes just awkward ans gets too embarrassed with it. He prefers to ‘flirt’ with actions (looking him up and down, gifts, being touchy)

Natsu unintentionally flirts, hes not the type to hold back and says what he means. So he ends up giving the most genuine, love struck compliments known to man and he doesn’t even realize.

However, his deep hidden knowledge of actual flirting comes out when they’re fighting

Even though they argue constantly they have a rule against going to bed angry that they follow religiously, and if that means they don’t sleep for days on end sometimes thats nobody’s business but theirs.

When they started dating the original plan was to wait to tell people, but Natsu, who was genuinely vibrating with excitement and a need to tell everyone, broke within the first week

(what he doesnt know is Gray actually broke first, telling Cana the day of the first date (He needed moral support and shes had to listen to him moon over him for years! she deserved to know!))

Not that it really mattered, half the guild thought they were dating already

There was no formal announcement, they just started making out in the guild and that was that

ironically, the guildmates closest to them were the ones that had no clue and were surprised. And the ones that werent that close went on abt how ‘it was so obvious’ and ‘how could you not know?’

Once the shock and awe died down, ppl started panicking trying to figure out who to give the shovel talk to

baseline; it was very eventful

Before they started dating every now and then you could catch Gray looking in pure awe at Natsu when hes beating the shit out of someone

He doesnt even try to hide it now, even if hes the one Natsus fighting

Gray, staring at Natsu: hes so hot
Lucy, concerned: ??? Hes about to kill that guy!!
Gray, sighing dreamily: i know

They dont actually know how they started dating. one minute they were fighting and the next they were making out, two days later they were on a date in a restaurant way too fancy for them. and that was that

Gray has used Natsu as a human lighter so many times over the years its likely he doesnt even carry one any more

Natsu will eat the flame if Gray tries to use one till he asks him

[thekillerwon]

With the 20th anniversary of Cave Story I would like to share the story of the first time I played it and the first time I beat. First when I played it, I uses to pirate games as was a kid and I was looking for games that I could play comfortably on keyboard. I found the game for Windows and to my surprise, it worked. I started playing it but as I got to the Village I got stuck as I didn't read any of the dialog, so I ended up never progressing further than that and I stopped playing the game. I never bother looking up a tutorial or a playthrough at that time to help me progress. I just stopped playing.

Moving to when I first beaten it. It was a couple year back, I owned Cave Story+ on Steam for a bit, but I got into modding handheld consoles like the PSP, PS Vita, and the 3DS. On my modded PSP I was looking up websites to download games that were compatible with the PSP that I can put on and try out and I stumble on a page to download Cave Story for the PSP. So I installed the file, transferred it to my PSP, and downloaded it to see if it worked. And load and behold, it worked. That night I was looking at all the games I had downloaded and started playing it. By the time it was the morning I was near an ending, but I didn't know that. I just kept playing because I didn't have anything planned or schedule the day of, so I just kept playing. I eventually beat the game by the afternoon that day and then I went to sleep so after.

But the ending I got didn't really feel right to what I saw online. So I looked up a playthrough and realized that I got the normal ending. So I decided to follow the playthrough for the True ending on my copy of Cave Story+ on Steam in the hardest difficulty but have restarted multiple times as I had messed up a step. I still haven't finished it and an planning to finish it after I play all of Shovel Knight again.

[gummybearsandgreenmango]

His Bleeding Heart

The air has been knocked out of me. The little whoosh silent but taking me by surprise. My vision narrows, and I reach my hands out to steady myself. It feels as though the world has tilted. I must maintain my equilibrium, keep my poker face on, despite the sweat that's starting to dot my forehead.

Everyone who sees me would never see the turmoil behind my eyes. The pain and the panic swirling within my thoughts.

What should I do? What will happen next?

I see his face in front of me, blurry and unfocused. Quickly, I swipe an arm across my eyes, crouching in front of him. I cup his face with my quivering hands. His declaration has taken me by surprise, and I couldn't think properly. At first.

Now that the shock has waned, every detail of my surroundings is coming into sharp focus. Our curtains lift a little with the breeze, the napkin tucked under the saucer fluttering without care. I see the remnants of my lipstick on the rim, the last dregs of the coffee I'd been drinking cold inside the cup.

My eyes scan every feature of his face, committing each to memory. I remember how many times we'd spoken about the future we'd share together. The dinners we'd spend laughing about this and that.

I just sigh, straightening up and heading toward the kitchen. It's getting late, and I need to prepare dinner. He chooses to stay in the living room. His eyes looking almost vacantly at the basketball game on tv.

I wash my hands carefully. I was planning to make burger patties out of our leftover ground beef, and I needed every inch of my hands clean.

He used to bring every stray he meets into our house. His bleeding heart unable to fathom them being hungry and abandoned. After the fifth one, I'd put my foot down.

He would go to work every day, and leave the actual care to me.

I can no longer stand the toll it takes - not only physically, but emotionally. We can never keep these animals; our children are allergic to them. We've had to hide them in the shed for fear our children would meet them and fall in love.

Tonight is our anniversary. I'd taken special care with my appearance. Our children have been sent off to their Grandma's to spend the night, a little sleepover party I'd told them.

Of all the nights he could have given me the bad news, it had to be this night. I could scarcely accept the news. The shock forces me to widen the distance between us. Him into his designated spot on the couch, and me to the kitchen.

I sneak a glance at him around the corner. He's just sitting there, with nary a care in the world. And why should he look disturbed? His world hasn't changed. He knows I'll be here to pick up the pieces.

But I don't think I will be.

I look around the brightly lit kitchen. At the marble countertops and wooden shelves. When we first moved in here as newlyweds, it was what compelled us to buy the house. Since then, I've spent many a time preparing meals for our family in this house.

Placing the cast iron pan on top of the stove, I turn the knob, waiting for the pilot to turn on. The sound of the vent sucking up any smoke fills the small room until I can no longer here the game.

My hands toil even as my mind calms. I've known what I need to do. Known it for a couple of months now.

I go over all the details of my plan. It won't be easy. But if I do everything right, I can make both of us happy.

"Dinner's ready," I announce from the doorway.

With a grunt, he pushes a hand against the chair and stands. His figure has filled out since I first met him. The shoulders and arms heavily muscled, his hips slim, and his legs sturdy.

"Thanks," he says as he slides into his chair. The piping hot burger I'd placed on his plate still emitting steam. I'd fixed it just the way he liked - with copious amounts of ketchup, lettuce, tomatoes, bacon and slices of cheese.

I won't be begging him to stay. Not me.

But if he's leaving, I want him to realize what he's missing.

"I appreciate you not making a fuss about it, Eileen," he says before taking a big bite of his burger.

My mind flashes back to the suitcase waiting in the hallway. I didn't even think he knew how to pack his own clothes, let alone where the suitcases are.

I just make a murmur in my throat in response. I've lost my appetite, but I know I have to keep up my strength. I'm going to need it in the days and months ahead.

"About the kids," he starts.

I hold up a hand. "Why don't we talk about that next time? Our lawyers can figure that out, surely?" I say, using my knife to cut myself a sliver of meat. I detest burgers, I prefer my patty plain. If I'd know this was where we'd end up, I'd have chosen a different menu.

"I'm hoping for joint custody," he says, ignoring what I've said. "I'll do my best to find a place nearby, so they won't need to go far."

"No reason for things to change for them just because we're divorcing," he chews noisily, taking a big gulp of water to help the meat go down.

"I agree," I say, resigned to having this discussion.

"I do appreciate your sensibility and cooperation on this," he informs me. "I'll need your help in making sure the kids accept Amara, too. After all, she's to be their new stepmother."

I make another murmur in my throat, taking a sip of water. He must have mistaken it for assent, as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

I wait for a few minutes before I speak again, my voice stronger this time. "I do have a few concessions regarding that point."

He looks up. "The children shouldn't meet her until you're sure of your relationship. I won't have them hurt. They'll already be hurting once they hear the news. We should take it easy on them."

"I don't see any reason to rush."

He snorts derisively. "They've already met her a few times. I don't think they'll need a bigger adjustment period. Maybe you do, but not them."

I clench my skirt into a fist under the table, not deigning to give him a response.

Instead, I stand to take away both my plate and his. I've cleared for him during all the years of our marriage, and even though it's about to end, I wasn't going to stop now.

He grabs my wrist, stopping me as I turn away.

"You'll always be my first love. It's just - I've fallen in love with someone else now. You have to learn to accept it."

I take a step firmly away from him. "I don't need to accept anything. You're the one who'll need to adjust. I doubt you have anything in common with a 20-year-old fresh out of college."

"That's beneath you," he admonishes. "I'm leaving soon, I just need to grab a few things I've forgotten in the bedroom."

Making no acknowledgement, I move away finally, walking with leisurely steps to the kitchen. Heaving a deep breath, I slowly place the plates inside the dishwasher, clicking the door shut with finality.

No one can fault me for not being an exemplary wife. I've done everything that's to be expected and more.

Thud.

The sound reaches my ears, and I walk toward where I guess it's coming from. Perhaps something's fallen out from the closet.

Pausing at the bedroom door, and clutching the frame, I look at him in the bedroom, having fallen backward into the mattress.

Moving closer to him, I give him a smile. I slip the syringe I'd prepared earlier from my apron pocket and quickly gave him another dose. His eyes look desperate and pleading - frantic - but I don't give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, I hum to myself, grabbing him by the legs and pulling him to the kitchen.

It's my domain, after all.

I've had enough of his strays. I can't believe he dares to build this one a home.

I always knew his bleeding heart would be his undoing.

I warned him.

[temporarymoods]

almost october

[seething]

i tried a quiche today, at a cafe clearly customer-ed by rich people. i couldn't quite place why the baristas were like, colder than normal, but after a couple minutes of surveying their patronage i was like oh.. yeah. :( this is not the scene i'm used to!

anyway, it's night now. and you won't believe the set-up in my room. little context first: my congestion has been crazier than normal, sinuses just all out of whack, nostrils closing and opening at will. the left nose hole was like, dry today or something, so the corresponding left back of my throat was sore this evening. idk the actual cause and effect here, but maybe someday soon i'll educate myself on the anatomy of it all. anyway, i have too many important things happening over the next couple of days and i can't get sick or have any pestulancies (made-up word)!! since i had already steam-bathed myself over a cup of tea post-homemade-fish-taco-dinner, and it was kind of nice, i had some empirical evidence supporting the idea that adding moisture to my air & sleeping in that for hours would make a kind of difference, so, time to bust out the humidifier! but then-- the air purifier. hmmm, you see i wake up and sneeze every morning because of fucking dust or something idk. mold?! so i've been living with my new baby as we know...but would it dry out my new air? has it been? all thoughts i've had in the last 20 minutes. anyway, i go to fill up my humidifier with water, bam, she's working right away. i put her next to my bed and turn to the air purifier at the foot of my bed, turn it on. WHY IS IT READING AT 100?! oh mygod she turned on and boom numbers start flying up. what?! its normally at like...1. maybe 002. but we flew past the 70s into the 90s and past 100?! (don't ask me what it's measuring, idk, but number bigger = badder) so i was shocked! i ran her last night, with really no need! steady low numbers, even with/after candle burning. then wasn't in my room all day! maybe left my door open for a moment this evening... so that's an unsolved mystery. but i think ugh maybe the humidifier is too close to my bed, i don't want to get wet dirty air. so the two machines are now both at the foot of my bed, sharing the rug <3 sisters <3 so cute <3 and i am well taken care of. thank you, machines! please keep me healthy! (lol just realized the mug of tea i made a while ago is also still quite warm because of my electronic mug hahaha. that's so chic)

that was a lot of dumbness. but it excites me. what else. i had a proper adventure today. so much was inspiring me and filling my bucket i just had to write it down at the beginning of my afternoon class. let's take a look at the notion, shall we?

here's the translation:

i saw a young child at thinking cup newbury. we vibed. tweeted about it. go check (there's a secret passageway on here)

self-explanatory, also, i was there for a rent check

self-explanatory, 2 toast and a sauce please

first quote me staring convo, second quote dude whose smile made my day saying bye; support UFCW !! they gave me a sticker & a pin :D

just checking in...doing my rounds................garnering intel....

same thing.......let a girl be......

wanted to remember this bc it felt like i was on a streak of kindness from strangers :)

self-explanatory, second point true asf

saw a rifle for the first time in a long time! turns out i can recognize that hint of white taped wood anywhere

so that's what i did. what was i thinking tho? good question. got a list for that too.

been watching a lot of movies recently. finished she's the man tonight, actually. weird as fuck, like straight up. if i did star ratings it would only get 2

coming soon :0

didn't yet (pay my credit card. lmao)

new wes anderson flick

also for my watchlist, thanks sapphic twitter

10 year pure heroine anniversary, was gonna tweet about it

coming soon :0

paper i want to read, taken from paper i read about south dakota native american abortion politics in 2006

god. when does she stop making lists...never.

silly

thinking i would

got too many eggs, want sweet treats, mad scientist therapy, etc.

secret (i want a way to store my homemade salad dressings)

pillies

so i've got a lot going on, internally and externally. big woo. have to get up so early tomorrow-- i shouldnt be up right now-- to go to a catholic training about protecting god's children, mandatory for before i begin tutoring writing once a week at an in-need private school. awkwarrddd for the church! (it's about child sexual assault prevention.) curious to see how they approach the subject. but its early as fuck and a 20 minutes drive away. watching pretty little liars right now though and the two cunty moms are discussing divorce and dating again, lmfao. this show cracks me up. i told the elevator pitch version of my parents' divorces story today, only to realize i hadn't really talked about it in a while. a long while. not something i think about, those couple of months. shit was kind of...idk. don't think i have the right word.

i should get goinggg now. i know!! such a shame. isn't it so fun to read all these details?! it's fun for me to write them. i want to remember somehow.

w/ love & sustained interest in life, talk soon, about teaching, and other things, Kate

p.s. i've been taking some pretty pictures, will share soon xo

[chickensuitgay]

Happy 2nd anniversary! 🦌

Since this post first came out I've been meaning to reply to it, but I kept putting it off until I decided to wait for the anniversary of the rip.

Back in late 2020, MLP rips were starting to get some steam which eventually culminated in the anniversary event which I decided to make a rip for. I was already knowledgeable about MLP because I was into it in like 2014 and I even used to have the word Brony in my YouTube username at some point but unfortunately I got bullied out of it and distanced myself from it. I never hated it but my interest in it just went dormant for the most part. That was until a few days after the event I decided to rewatch it, being inspired by KnightOfGames getting into it. It was the pandemic and my online math classes were literally nothing so I watched the show during the video calls lol. I easily got hooked; I originally ended off at Season 3 but within a month I finished watching everything I could. I went on to watch a ton of fan media after not having to worry about spoilers anymore, both what I remember from back then and anything newer and I was practically listening to a ton of brony music everyday. I had a new interest to channel into rips! I made a LOT of pony rips throughout most of 2021 and with the efforts of many, the presence of MLP on the channel grew a lot. Unfortunately, not everyone was very receptive about this… and I wouldn't be saying this if it was just commenters. A lot of 2021 kinda sucked for me. I was starting to have a lot of issues with the community and I wanted to leave every other week. I was lowkey feeling like quitting ripping by the end of the year, even though I knew I wasn't going to detach myself anytime soon, which just made it more painful to have thoughts about. Seeing people in the community constantly shit on MLP rips wasn't helping this at all, and usually it's like whatever not everyone likes it that's obviously okay just make whatever rips you want to but it was getting harder and harder to ignore everything when people just about everywhere, especially those who I respected, said the same stuff frequently. I was getting discouraged more and more and it also started affecting the way I viewed some people.

Let's put that to the side for now. I found out about ANTONYMPH when it first came out after someone pinged about it in a server, and I immediately loved it. I was still in the middle of being fixated on fansongs so this song made my rotation for quite a while and when the CUTIEMARKS album came out I gave that a full listen a couple times too. I remember freaking out so hard about the Fishy On Me sample because I was getting into Fortnite again that year and the song was an injoke within some friends and I literally almost got a heart attack when I clicked the sample video and heard what it was. It was a weird coincidence but I loved it more for it. After skimming through a bunch of soundtrack folders I eventually landed on Field of Hopes and Dreams and when I first slapped the songs together I was happy it worked well enough. I asked my friend Deercarcass who also really liked the song if she'd make art for my rip. It was originally planned for October 10 but the art wasn't done in time and eventually the longer it took I realized oh in the meantime I could ask the SG Art Team if they wanted to make things for it too. I wanted people to make whatever they wanted to, I wasn't particularly asking for 1:1 parodies of the art in the video (and obviously not even everything) and whatever I got I was just gonna compile as best as I could. In the meantime, the deal with MLP hate didn't seem to improve that much. I eventually blew up about it, yelling about how much I wanted to be done with ripping already because obviously it just might hurt when a community you've poured your heart and soul into for the last 5 years is starting to feel uncomfortable to be in. I feel like what was going on contributed to me getting attached to the song so much though, just because of how relevant the message of it was and how comforting it was to think about at a time like this.

Fast forward to the rip finally going up… it got its first fanart within like, 4 hours? And then Vylet Pony, burgivore and AstroEden all acknowledged the rip shortly after and I was so happy about it. burgivore even drew Gir-elle himself!

Above all, I felt so vindicated. Almost a whole year of feeling shitty about myself and my place in the ripping community but I still managed to end the year off on a high note. The rip surprisingly wasn't made out of spite (or at least initially, I don't know if it subconsciously motivated me to make it more ambitious but it doesn't matter) but it certainly felt good to take a dub after having been put down so much.

The rip grew more popular and I remember there was a point where it literally got at least 1k views consistently every day. Spamton Sweepstakes happened and I think it's cool that people say Toby was influenced by the rip, though personally I don't want to say that since I just picked up the vibes that Noelle was already written with, she just felt similar enough to Fluttershy to use as an equivalent. It's cool that it reinforced the idea more though. (also they are besties!! ���🦌💊 <- riamu showed up)

I'm glad the rip had such a huge impact on people. CUTIEMARKS is a really great album and probably my favorite album of all time at the moment. I'm happy the rip introduced a lot of people to Trixie's music as well. I've heard of a couple people becoming fans of her because of the rip and that makes me glad and even more that I've seen people talk about how the rip led them on a path that changed them as a person and that's so cool I can't understate how happy I am about those things. Seeing people kin Gir-elle is lovely too. People have also cosplayed her!!!! I think it's amazing how significant this format can be, how important these songs and characters can mean to people, and how so much can come out of some silly inside jokes.

As for what the rip means to me… a lot. This rip is very symbolic to me; it represents my friendships, my interests, my relationship with the channel, the community and all the time I've spent in it. This rip is representative of my passion and contains a piece of my heart. The reason for the "ChickenSuitPony" credit on the album is because it's the name of the pony OC I made as a child and I like to imagine the rip was made by the spirit of the kid who came back after having been pushed away long ago. I consider it the biggest contribution I could've made to SiIvaGunner and it isn't even my most viewed one.

The impact of the rip is something I consider to have marked off my ripping bucket list… I always wanted to make a rip like those from 2016 you just remember forever and it seems to have been successful. Of course this isn't something that should matter, rips are made for the self primarily, but it's a nice achievement. Not to say I'm going to be done soon, but if I theoretically had to cease contributing one way or another I would at least be satisfied to some extent.

Things have been a lot better since then. People have been a lot more nicer, a lot of the issues I had during that year were resolved and I think I've also changed a bit as a person and became generally more positive. The community has honestly been in the best spot it's ever been this year. In general people have been showing their appreciation for their friends more frequently, by making things inspired by them if not straight up dedicating it to them. This is something people already have naturally done of course but this year in particular it feels like it became even more frequent. This year I was surprised with a rip album for my birthday: LITTENYMPH. My heart was warmed a ton to say the least. I was mainly trying to give another example here about how great rips are as a medium and the energy they can channel outside of their face value as derivative works. I know this is just the art form of music in general but you get what I mean. Shoutout to my bestie RHMan for plotting this and all my lovely friends who contributed to it. Check out the rest of the Bandcamp too, it's just as friendly! 🐱🐰

Shoutout to everyone who helped work on the rip, Deercarcass, TVGhost, moralem, Tocinin, mBluett, 601billionlazer for all their art, Myeauxyoozi, Netyasha Roozi and overcast for assisting me with some parts of the video, all the people who helped provide things for the rapid-fire sequence, shoutout to Vylet Pony and everyone who helped on ANTONYMPH and the CUTIEMARKS album overall, shoutout to Toby Fox for making the most memorable motifs like ever somehow, shoutout to all the fans who felt attached to the rip and everyone whos made fanart, shoutout to BobTheTacocat for the SGFR arrange and just anyone whos made any tribute in any form, shoutout to ashy for being a kitty friend, shoutout to MtH for being nice to me about cringe, shoutout to Deercarcass again for being one of my most supportive friends and moralem cuz I'm really happy about how close we got during that time, shoutout again KnightOfGames for inspiring me to get back to MLP and my great friend MLPFun who's also stood by me, shoutout to anyone who has contributed to my existence and influenced my personality in any way (even the smallest bits) and thank you mel for the wonderful blog post. :)

Todays rip [First 30 Archive] - 02/06/2023

Field of Love and Cringe

Season 5 Featured on: The Inevitable Holiday Album

Ripped by ChickenSuitGuy Visuals by Deercarcass, TelevisionGhost, moralem, Tocinin, mBluett, 600billionlazer, Galacksy, Myeauxyoozi, Netyasha Roozi, over-cast07

Boy that list of artists huh? Part of the magic of SiIvaGunner is that huge passion projects like this drop within the same schedule as every other rip, leaving it up to fans like myself to generate discussion over when things go crazy. It really isn’t often these days that an ordinary non-event rip truly blows up in the way this one did, sitting at almost half a million as of writing. But like, its well deserved!! It takes the basic concept of a mashup between Field of Hopes and Dreams and Vylet Pony’s ANTONYMPH, and turns it into a full-on tribute to the latter song, remaking the entire music video with all new visuals.

In that process, it creates a really fun new narrative of Noelle substituting Fluttershy in the original video as the “protagonist”, which creates a really fun new look into what the character is. A dorky, happy, proud and above all else SILLY little creature raised on the early 2000s internet culture. People inside and out of SiIva are in LOVE with this depiction of the character and I honestly can’t blame them, and the art used in the video is lovely in every sense of the word. Both as an Undertale fan and a SiIvaGunner enjoyer it’s been so fun seeing this strange mash-up joke turn into a full-on mainstay on the channel, bound to show up in the lore eventually. Not to mention the visuals are great not just for the way they pay tribute to Vylet Pony’s original video, but in how closely tied they still are to SiIvaGunner in-jokes: Its a love letter on all fronts

Though I’m a bit hazy on the full extent of the season’s contents, I’m willing to say this rip alone was one of the most defining moments of Season 5? With several of the original video’s creators giving their full approval to the rip and with Gir-hoodie Noelle being everywhere even outside of SiIvaGunner, its hard to say if any rips in recent memory had more of an impact than this. That’s not a knock against the rest of the channel, but a testament to just how well executed this rip in particular was. ChickenSuitGuy is a legend just in general.

[songbirdstyles]

screw my brain (’till it hurts)

summary: you and harry are spies on an assignment to pretend to be a married couple in order to take down a drug trafficking ring. the only problem? you two can’t stand each other.

warnings: smut (18+), hate sex, knifeplay, breathplay (choking), slapping, fingering, phone sex (sort of); enemies to lovers, one bed, fake dating 

song inspo.: death on two legs (dedicated to ...) - queen / back chat - queen / you’re so vain - carly simon

word count: 19.5k 

You can practically feel Harry’s anger simmering beside you, and you’re tired of it.

He’s been acting like a child since you got on the plane, his eyes narrowed and venomous and steam practically blowing out of his ears as though he’s on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum, and you’re sure if looks could kill you’d be dead a million times over again from all the staredowns he’d been trying to initiate. And you’re used to this, for the most part, but it doesn’t make you feel any less annoyed as he huffs beside you, flicking through the file on his lap.

And - look. You don’t like Harry. You can hardly even tolerate him, most of the time, and the only times you manage to be near him without gagging is when you’re on missions. Usually he’s the same way, pushing aside the mutual disdain you’ve shared from day fucking one when there’s goals to be accomplished and targets to take down but he’s just sitting here like an angry log, thumbing noisily through papers as you swipe through your phone.

He’s looking for attention, Mark would tell you - your boss is the epitome of coolness, desperate for you and Harry to get along because of his tendency to force you together on missions - and that is true. You’re just as pissed as he is and you aren’t making a show of it. No, he’s an attention seeking crybaby, and you won’t give him what he craves. Won’t even look at him.

The plane dips a bit, then, and your stomach lurches, grabbing at the armrest in between you two where Harry’s elbow rests, and he jerks it into his side as though you’d burned him. You scoff, then, the pretense of faking casualness abandoned as fast as you’d stuck to it, and you can sense him rolling his eyes at the noise.

“For Fuck’s sake,” you huff, leaning to the side so you can stare at him as you roll your eyes pointedly, and he mimics the movement. “What are you so whiny about?”

“M’not whiny,” Harry insists in a tone that’s strikingly similar to the whine he claims he doesn’t have, and you sigh before reaching over, snatching the file off of his lap. “Hey - I was readin’ that!”

“Really?” you inquire, shifting so your back is to the man next to you and he can’t read the words on the page you’re squinting at. “Could’ve fooled me. Thought you were just sitting there huffing and rolling your eyes like a baby.” After a moment where he doesn’t respond, you risk a glance backwards and are met with the back of his head full of curls as he stares out the window at the passing sunset as you whiz through the sky. “What’s got your knickers in a twist, hmm? Did Mark not put enough into the budget for hair gel and dirty shoes?”

“Oh, shut up,” he says in a wildly mature way of response, and you can hardly resist the urge to smirk at it. “F’the record, m’mad that I have t’do another mission with you.”

You nod, trailing your finger along the line of words detailing aspects about the target you know you’ll have to utilize later - he has four cats. He and his wife are on the brink of divorce. He has two daughters, and he doesn’t speak to either of them. His name is Vincent Carfield, and, boy, does he sound like a real catch - you’re so focused on reading about him that you hardly register that Harry’s started speaking again.

“Wish Mark would realize m’good enough to do shit like this on my own. Don’t need you t’come around an’ pretend to be my - my girlfriend. S’stupid.”

“Well, if you were good enough, I would be at home with cucumbers on my eyes right now instead of reading about the leader of a drug trafficking ring -”

“God, you’re a bitch -”

“And you’re an asshole -”

“Fuck you - m’calling Mark.”

You snort, leaning back in your seat as Harry fumbles in his bag at his feet for his tablet, and he shakily sets it up on his lap, tapping through the screen until he gets to the FaceTime app. “Real mature, Har, going to tattle to Mark.”

“God, not everything’s about you, narcissist - half hour out, need a debrief.”

You crane your neck to lean in front of him and look out the window, and - sure enough - you can already tell that you’re getting closer, plane dipping slowly lower and it wouldn’t be perceptible to you if he hadn’t told you. Harry’s always been a tad bit more observant than you, though you wouldn’t confess that to him if your life depended on it.

Mark answers Harry’s call within mere seconds - he’s always on high alert when you guys call, especially when you’re off on missions together - part of you suspects he’s always waiting for a call that one of you killed the other. “Hello, lovebirds,” he chirps, the pure image of relaxation as he adjusts his tie, shifting in his seat - you and Harry both roll your eyes at his nickname for the pair of you. “Surprised to see you haven’t clawed each other’s eyes out.” “Wish I did,” you mutter beneath your breath, and Harry glares at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Anyway,” Mark says, and you know he heard what you said judging from the ghost of a smile on his pale face, but he brushes past it. “When you land, you’ll have around an hour to get settled into the hotel before dinner. I’ve sent you the address to the restaurant - the target is eating there with his wife, most likely to discuss their divorce, so he’ll be feeling vulnerable and insecure -” “And that’s where I come in,” you finish, trailing your nail across the fine printed page which holds the plans the three had deliberated over for two weeks prior - compared to most of your missions it was an extraordinarily short amount of time to plan but none of you could foresee this one going anything other than disgustingly easy. If you pull through, you could be home by the end of the weekend.

“And that’s where you come in,” Mark affirms, thick rimmed glasses mirroring the image of you and Harry that he’s seeing on his screen. “Find any way to touch him - pretend to trip - and plant the audio tracker on his jacket.” You nod, and Harry drops his head against the seat with a soft sigh that nearly makes you turn and throttle him but you hold back, fingers tensing as though itching for a throat to grab. “Then you guys go back to the hotel, hold back from slaughtering each other, and listen in - he’s staying at the room next to yours.”

If this situation were occurring a year ago in your first few weeks of working as a spy perhaps you’d marvel at the seeming coincidence of Mark just happening to get you a hotel room right next to your target - but your one-year anniversary working has just come up and, as it so happens, you know he can make just about anything happen by pulling the right strings. And staying in the same hotel, on the same floor, is the perfect talking point for dinner - you’re already storing it in the back of your mind to bring up in conversation when you manage to get the tracker on his jacket -

“ - and, look, guys, I know you don’t particularly like each other,” Mark is saying when your attention snaps back to him, and Harry snorts. It’s the understatement of the century - you almost want to laugh with him. “It’s just really important that you sell yourselves as a couple. I don’t care what you have to do - share a drink or hold hands - but he needs to see you as a couple. All of his mistresses have been seemingly happily married - he’ll be more inclined to get closer with ____ if he sees you’re in a good relationship. Then, Harry, of course, can explore his hotel room - snuff out anything suspicious.”

You nod but Harry seems less convinced - his brow arches as his arms cross over his chest, and you glance over at him with confusion written over your features. “M’confused,” he says, and you raise your eyebrows. “She’s gonna fu - have an affair wit’ him, then?”

God, we fucking talked about this, you want to shout at him, to shake his shoulders until he’s dizzy. If you paid attention while we planned instead of sitting there whining that you don’t go on missions by yourself because nobody goes on missions by themselves unless they’ve been here for nearly 10 years and you’ve barely scraped three -

Mark is more patient. He just shrugs, fingers tapping away at the keyboard connecting to his screen. “Maybe - maybe not. Depends how vulnerable she can get him without resorting to sexual means.”

“Don’t think I’ll have a problem with that,” you can’t resist saying, popping the ‘p’ in problem as you smugly smirk, scratching your nails against the smooth paper you’d been reading as Harry glares at you, seemingly affronted. “Only had to resort to getting down and dirty with a target once - that asshole mob boss - everyone else is just dying to tell me their juicy little secrets. Guess it’s a perk at being good at what you do, right, Har?”

“Oh, you’re such a -”

“Children, children,” Mark interrupts the beginning of Harry’s speech about what a cunt you are, holding up his age-worn palms with mock exasperation as he stares the two of you down. “Stay civil. I’ve just booked your reservation at this Italian restaurant called Fucina’s - it’s for 7, under Mr. and Mrs. James Robinson. Vincent Carfield and his wife have a reservation for 7:30 but have a tendency to arrive early. They requested seating in a more private area, as did I, so you should be able to hear their conversations -”

The conversation rolls on for another few minutes until the pilot announces that you’re landing in ten, and that’s Mark’s cue to sign off - with a fleeting inquiry about any questions the pair of you may have he’s gone, wishing you good luck and making you promise to call him after dinner once you’ve set up the tracker and begun listening to your mark. You don’t suspect you’ll forget to - you and Harry generally can’t be in an enclosed environment together for too long without having overwhelming desires to take each other out, and Mark balances you out. Eases the two of you, calms you down, even when you’re so angry at Harry you want nothing more than to stamp your feet on the ground and scream.

It’s how you feel now, a bit, as Harry shuts his tablet and shoves it back into his bag with a dramatic huff after Mark has signed off. He’s angry about something again, surely relating to you and the mission and how he constantly feels snubbed by Mark but, truthfully, as the plane dips lower and lower to the Earth, you find that you really, really, don’t care.

 ~~

 The hotel room is, for all intents and purposes, fairly large. It’s nicer than a significant portion of the ones you two inhabit on missions and you should be grateful, toeing off your boots in the entrance of the suite, that it has a functioning kitchen and a bathroom with a door that closes and an L shaped couch facing the television (based on the description of the suite Mark had sent), but your mood has been entirely soured by Harry’s sore attitude during the drive from the airport to the hotel.

He drops his suitcase against the carpeted ground of the entrance, and it slams onto the ground so close to your sock-covered toes that you jump back, glaring at him as he pointedly ignores you and descends further into the hotel room, peeking his curly head into the kitchen and the bathroom. You watch him as you rest your suitcase against the wall, nudging his closer to the wall with your foot before following him, already tugging your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check for any new texts from your boss when -

“You’ve got t’be fucking kidding me.”

You arch your eyebrows, tilting your phone into your chest as you turn the corner into the main living area. And it’s nice, eyes wandering over the couch that Mark had told you about, and the TV mounted to the wall with a Roku connected to it that you’re sure you’ll take advantage of later tonight. The carpet is soft beneath your feet even through your socks, and the bed is nicely made, pillows fluffy and looking soft -

Bed.

Shit.

What a bastard, Mark is - booking a room with only one bed? And not even telling you two about it? God, you could kill him. You really could, and you will, as soon as you get back to headquarters and see his stupid bald head in person - you’ll throttle him. Or shoot him. Hell, you’ll even stab him.

“You’re taking the couch,” you tell Harry, and before he can protest you take a running start to leap onto the bed, plopping onto your back and tucking your arms beneath your scalp. “Looks real comfy, doesn’t it? The bed - not the couch. Couch looks like it’ll kill your back.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Harry practically snarls, voice all venom and teeth, and he sits at the edge of the bed anyway, hands going up to loosen at the black tie wrapped tight around his neck. “So entitled - I’ll take the fucking bed. Been here longer than you, y’know - just ‘cause y’like t’act like you’re so good -”

“And yet,” you interrupt, bringing your foot up to kick at his side, and he turns around and glares at you, “I’m the one getting put on assignments with you, even though I’ve hardly been here a year. Oh, yeah, what’s that Mark told us? I was put on duty the quickest than anyone else after finishing my assignments?” You screw up your eyes as though trying to fact check yourself before nodding, smiling at the positively hateful expression on your partner’s face. “Guess I am good.”

He opens his mouth to reply and perhaps he assumes better of it - he simply rolls his eyes, pulling his tie off of his neck and dropping it on the ground beside him. For a moment you simply stare at him as he peels his jacket off, littering it on the floor in a similar fashion as his tie, until he’s merely donning a white button down and his black dress pants, hair messy and face light red. 

Sometimes you do that - you watch him - because it’s nice to see him look so peaceful and silent when you’re used to spewing hatred back and forth. You could even be into him if he kept his mouth taped shut and promised to never make a single noise, but he would never comply with it - and you’re sure you’d find a reason to get pissed off at him if he didn’t speak.

You hadn’t realized how long you’d been staring at him until he turns around, and your gazes lock, and you lift your eyebrows.

“Don’t stare at me,” Harry demands, backing up on the bed until his head rests on the pillow beside you - you turn your head to stare at him, affronted. “Told you - m’taking the bed. An’ m’gonna take a nap f’a half hour- already set the timer on m’phone - so you can either take the couch or sit here right beside me.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, glaring down at the man beside you who closes his eyes (rather smugly, you’ll add) and mimics your own previous position, arms tucked beside his head. “You dickhead.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m not moving.”

“Fine by me.”

“I’m gonna nap too -”

“Go ahead -”

“And I stretch out a lot when I sleep.”

“How ever will I handle it?”

You’ve seem to run out of responses, furrowing your eyebrows as Harry’s face settles into an expression of slight comfort and you wonder if he really has gone to bed, resting in the button down shirt and dress pants that he’s always itching to get out of at the end of the day. You’ve had to watch him undress with absolutely no shame in front of your far too many times for comfort, shoved into small hotel rooms together but at least they had two beds - you can hardly control your heart rate as you stare down at him.

(Because you’re angry, of course. Whenever he’s acting like a dumbass your heartbeat quickens to match the pace of a fucking freight train, and that’s nearly every time you’ve ever had to talk to him.)

After a moment you rest back on the bed beside him, head dangerously close to the center of the two pillows where you can feel Harry’s curls, spread upon his pillows, brushing against the sides of your temples. With every feel of his hair against your skin you feel your anger rising, and you exhale softly, pressing your palms to the top of your stomach as you listen to his steady breathing beside you.

He sounds too peaceful.

You wait nearly ten minutes before beginning your plan of attack, not nearly as meticulously planned as the ones you and Harry will employ later - you slowly begin to spread your legs out, feeling your calf brush against his foot, and your arms follow in a similar pattern. They stretch outwards, forearm thrown across his neck, and you can feel his Adam’s apple bobbing against your skin but he doesn’t take the bait - doesn’t even move a muscle, and you can feel his even breathing against your arm.

For a second you wonder if he really is asleep. You’d be surprised.

It’s uncomfortable sleeping on your back and that’s your justification for rolling over onto your stomach, body halfway on top of Harry’s, chest pressed against his and face buried into the pillow beside him so your nose presses into his hair, softly inhaling the fruity shampoo he uses. Your arm lazily throws itself across his torso, leg nudging his until they fall off the bed, and he grunts.

“What th’fuck are y’doing?” Harry questions gruffly, voice just raspy enough to make you consider the very real possibility that he truly had fallen asleep, and you don’t respond. “Get off me, dumbass - tryin’ t’sleep.”

You remain silent. You work on steadying your breathing, faking sleep in the way that you’ve mastered over the past year (and a half, if you count the six months of training you’d done before beginning work) - on one of your earliest missions you’d pretended to be passed out in the back of a work party you’d seduced your way into with a tape recorder taped to your underboob and you’d been able to get enough recording of a conversation between two sleazy old men to support your hypothesis that their paper company was a front for a sex trafficking ring. You suspect this case should be likely the same, albeit easier and likely without the work party, and you’ll breeze through it like nobody’s business if it requires fake sleeping like you’re doing now.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” he correctly deduces, lifting his arm to slam it against your back entirely too hard and you nibble on your bottom lip to keep from making any type of noise at the slight pain the motion brings. “Get off me. Go t’the couch - stop being so stubborn.”

You mumble something incoherent under your breath, digging your face further into your pillow just to hear the way he hisses as you (un)intentionally tug at his hair. You feel his hands dig into your sides and before you can pull off of him he pushes you away with as much force as he can muster, and you’re send tossed to the other end of the bed, grappling at the duvet to stop yourself from slipping over the edge of the bed onto the carpet.

“Fuck,” you hiss, pushing yourself to sit out with your legs stuck straight out in front of you. With a glare directed towards the man opposite you you pull your legs back and push them towards him sharply, kicking him directly in his thigh, and his legs tumble off the bed, forcing him to sit up to maintain his balance. “Take that, dipshit.”

“Can’t you do better than that?” Harry questions, tone so mocking and condescending that you push yourself to his knees just as he rises to stand, the top button of his shirt mercifully coming undone, and you resist the urge to glance at it every so often. “C’mon, babe - if you’re gonna be a bitch -”

You push yourself to stand on top of the covers, taking a leap towards Harry where he stands on the other side of the bed, and your legs hook around his torso, effectively catching him by surprise as his hands immediately land on your waist, tugging you off of him and throwing you onto the bed with an ease that shouldn’t surprise you after this long of knowing him but it still knocks the breath out of you. His body hovers above you, pinning your arms above your head but you won’t have that - hook your legs around the back of his thighs and force him onto his back, throwing your legs over his torso as you mimic the position he’d trapped you in.

“1…” you begin counting tauntingly as you stare down at his face, reaching down to grab his wrists and hold them above his head, watching as he wriggles beneath you, his stomach tensing against your core. “2 … not even gonna put up a fight? What an agent you are -”

He practically growls at that, jerking his hands upward until they slip out of your grasp, nearly whacking you in the chin before he pushes himself up. You’re slammed into the headboard before you can even stop to think of your counterattack, back slamming into the wood as you drop your head forward to ensure you don’t knock your head into the wall, and Harry kneels in front of you with an exasperated, smug smirk, reaching up to press his forearm over your throat.

He’s not pressing hard - not enough to constrict your breathing at all, merely to hold your head in place - and after a second he begins counting just as you had - “1 … 2 … 3.”

You struggle uselessly against him until he reaches the final number, and a satisfied smile etches itself across his face before he pulls away, resting back on his knees to watch you huff before him before he begins crawling off the bed. “An’ I think that means that you, m’lady, have t’take the couch -”

You deliver one final swift kick to the back of Harry’s needs, and he tumbles off of the bed onto the ground with a cry, knees dropping onto the carpet and hands instinctively pressing to the wall he’d nearly slammed his head into. His position becomes one similar to a prayer, dropping his head forward against the wall with a dramatic groan.

“I won,” you tell him, flopping onto your back on the bed with a satisfied hum. “Get on the couch - reckon we still have a good 10 minutes left of our nap.”

Harry pushes himself to his feet in the blink of an eye, turning around with a look on his face that’s so serious you nearly want to double over in laughter, and as he plants his knees on the edge of the bed to resume the fight you’d had earlier, a sudden noise from the wall opposite your bed causes you to hold your palm out to him, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Shh!” you hiss, pushing yourself onto your elbows as Harry furrows his eyebrows, craning his neck towards the wall as though it’ll help him hear better. “D’you hear that?”

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, pondering the muffled noises coming from the hotel room next door. “Wha’?” Harry questions after a moment, voice hushed and soft, and you wait a moment before responding.

“The shower -” and, sure enough, just as the thought crosses your mind and the words leave your mouth you know that that’s the noise you’re hearing - the sound of water streaming onto the buff body of Vincent Carfield or perhaps his wife - “what time is it?”

“Uh -” Harry scrambles off the bed, digging through his backpack thrown on the ground until he can pull out his tablet, and the light shines on his face as he turns it on. “6:34.”

“Shit,” you hiss, rolling off the bed and practically darting out to the entrance hall where your suitcase rests against the wall, and you knock it to the ground and unzip it quickly. “Vincent’s already getting ready - we need to be at the restaurant soon. How fast can you get ready?”

“Pretty fast -” by the time Harry’s made his way into the entrance hall to dig through the suitcase he’d attempted to hit you with earlier you’ve peeled off your clothes, dropping them in a pile by your feet until you’re clad in only your bra and a pair of lace panties that leave entirely too little to the imagination, holster holding your knife firm against your thigh, and he freezes. “Christ. Can’t y’get a room f’that?”

“Oh, says the one who strips naked in the middle of the room every single night!” You shake your head, digging through your suitcase until you can find the black dress you’d packed specifically for dinner - it’s folded and mercifully wrinkle free, and you unzip the back to begin stepping into it. “Get ready. I’m going to do my makeup.”

“Make sure y’put a lot on - don’t wanna scare him off -”

“Shut up, Harry!”

 ~~

 Fucina’s is dark and fancy, with hosts dressed in all black and waitresses in a similar fashion. You would almost feel out of place, your arm hooked with Harry’s as you’re led through the main dining room towards the back where your table is, but it’s not any more elegant than any of the other expensive restaurants and galas the pair of you have infiltrated together, and with your tight dress and his suit, you look like exactly the couple to eat and afford a restaurant like this.

“The pasta’s $65,” Harry murmurs, trailing his fingertip down the laminated menu that you can hardly see in the dim light of the restaurant. You squint down at the page, bringing your head closer down to confirm that, yes, the fettuccine truly is that fucking expensive, and - not for the first time - you’re immensely grateful for the headquarters-mandated debit cards that you’ll use to pay for this. “Y’see that? The fettuccine?”

“Yeah,” you nod, though you’re not looking at the menu any longer - your eyes scan the restaurant behind Harry’s back, and of the three other tables in the private section Mark had requested for Mr. and Mrs. James Robinson to be in, none of them are occupied except yours. You and Harry had gotten there ten minutes late, much to Mark’s chagrin when you called him in the taxi, and the Carfields still hadn’t arrived. “Think I’m just gonna get a salad - not too hungry, anyway.”

“Me too.”

The conversation drains into a weird sort of silence - not awkward, and not malicious, either, as all of your silences usually are typically the result of one of you purposely ignoring the other. It’s harder to air out your disdain for each other when you’re supposed to be a couple that’s hopelessly in love in a high class restaurant, and you find that you don’t have much else to talk about with your partner besides discussing either the mission or whatever he’s doing that may be pissing you off at the moment -

He actually looks nice right now. Calm, collected - if you didn’t know better you’d say he looks like a pretty stand-up guy. The kind you’d take home to your mom.

“Why are y’lookin’ at me?” Harry questions, then, glancing up at you, and you internally curse at yourself - you always tend to forget how good he is at identifying someone staring at him. 

“Just thinking about how much I prefer you when you aren’t speaking,” you tell him, voice dropping lower as a host clad in black leads an older couple into the area, sitting them at a table towards the window as Harry rolls his eyes. You lift your water glass to your lips, taking a slow sip as you attempt to inconspicuously decipher if the couple is your target -

“You’re being so obvious,” Harry hisses, voice soft like a breath and yet still retaining all the venom his words always tend to hold. “Is it them?”

“No,” you decide, resting your glass back on your coaster as you slide your chair further into the table, foot accidentally kicking his ankle as you do - his face contorts in both annoyance and pain as he repeats the motion to you. “No - Carfield’s wife is young, isn’t she?”

“27.”

“Yeah.” The wife currently settling into her seat, draping her jacket over the back of her chair, is decidedly not 27 - add 50 years, or so. “Not them. They should be here soon, though.” 

“Good.”

In another moment your waitress has come to take your drink orders - you get a bottle of red wine just to hammer in the notion that you’re a young couple on a date night, even if you really prefer white wine, and you’re sure Harry would rather have a beer, but Mark always tells you to go for red when you’re out to dinner on missions. And - well - you’re not necessarily complaining. Wine is wine.

The wine arrives at your table with two tall glasses and Harry takes it to pour with a faux cheerful grin that has the waitress flushing in the dim light of the room - you tell yourself the tinge of jealousy at her clear adoration for the man currently uncorking the bottle to pour for you is simply because of how in character you are in terms of your fake marriage - and if you were someone else, perhaps you’d get angry at her for clearly flirting with Harry, though he doesn’t seem to notice.

Strange. You’d always taken him as the more observant one of the two of you, but he’s paying no mind to the waitress’s blushed face as he pours wine into your glass and she pulls out her notepad, ready to take your order.

“I’ll have the caesar salad, please, without chicken,” you tell her, giving a tight lipped grin as she scribbles it down onto her page. When Harry’s rested the bottle of wine back on the tablecloth-clad table, you reach over and rest your hand overtop of his, feeling his veins jump beneath your touch. “What about you, honey?”

If he’s confused, he doesn’t look it - just gives you a warm smile that feels entirely wrong coming from him, and the waitress looks positively affronted as he orders a large Mediterannean salad, and when she’s tucked her notebook back into the apron tied around her waist and left the private area, he furrows his eyebrows at you.

“Y’jealous?” Harry inquires, leaning his head in with a mocking grin that makes you roll your eyes, though you make no effort to move your hand from his - it looks better for appearances, anyway. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“In your dreams,” you insist, straightening your posture once a different hostess leads a couple into the room. The man is old, bald head shining in the dim light and donning a suit jacket that clearly hasn’t been tailored to his proportions, and his wife is significantly younger, pale face flushed red and wearing a black dress that looks as though she’s attending a funeral - you suppose she is, to some degree, mourning her marriage, so perhaps it’s fitting.

Harry can tell by the way you straighten up that the new couple sitting at the table behind him is the Carfields. Vincent sits with his back to your table, his wife on the opposite side, and immediately they lean their heads together, surely speaking in hushed tones about - prenuptial agreements and custody of their two girls and the like.

You need to be a couple. Mark had insisted on it, that it’s the most important part for you to get closer to Vincent and make him susceptible to your manipulation - he needs to see you as some sort of forbidden fruit - a married woman with a seemingly happy husband. It’s a control thing for him, and one you need to play into if you want to take his drug ring down.

It would sound like an ambitious goal if you weren’t as confident in yourself and Harry - because even if you hate him, he’s a damn good agent.

Your eyes meet Harry’s across the table, and he raises an eyebrow. You nod, jerking your head up and down before wrapping your manicured fingers around the stem of your wine glass, lifting it up and giving your partner a soft smile - one that he’s rarely on the receiving end of, if you’re being truthful - and you nod your chin towards his glass. Harry follows your lead, lifting his glass and raising it to clink against yours.

“Cheers,” he murmurs, and both of you sip from your glasses before resting them back down on your coasters, the rim of your glass decorated with a generous pink stain from your lipstick. “Happy anniversary, honey.”

His voice raises in volume just a bit, and from the table behind him you can see tears fill Mrs. Carfield’s eyes at the sentiment of a happy couple, and Mr. Carfield’s head tilts to the side though you don’t watch him long enough to see if he’d heard Harry - you simply smile - lift your intertwined hands in the air and to anyone else in your private area you’re sure you simply look the perfect part of a happy couple, celebrating their marriage anniversary. Two years together. Mr. and Mrs. James Robinson have been married for longer than you’ve known (and despised) Harry - surely there’s irony hidden in there, deep enough that you can’t see it.

It’s easier than you’d like to admit to fake a meaningful conversation with Harry. Mark generally gives the pair of you a list of things to talk about so people get the impression that you can tolerate each other but you typically don’t even need it - it’s easy enough to talk about your faux plans for the rest of your marriage.

It’s almost fun, even. Not in a way you’d expect - but it’s funny, talking about whatever the pair of you would imagine married couples would discuss - mortgages and trying for babies and politics - keeping your voices loud enough so the couple behind you can hear but quiet enough so it doesn’t seem intentional.

“D’you think we could turn the guest room into a nursery?” Harry inquires, lips quirking upwards as he lifts his wine to his lips, and you nibble on your bottom lip, pretending to contemplate the question.

“Of course,” you respond faux-thoughtfully, leaning forward just a bit, and his eyes flicker downwards for hardly a second before rising to meet your eyes again. “Or perhaps the office.”

“Yes, that’s a bit bigger,” he says seriously, and you nod, reaching for your glass of wine to take another small sip. It’s bitter and leaves a sour taste on your tongue, but you’re determined to drink the entire thing - it’ll soothe the nerves that you’re sure will arrive when it’s time to plant the bug on Mr. Carfield. You still haven’t figured out how you’ll manage to do it smoothly. “Then perhaps we could save the guest room for the second.”

You nod, hardly able to keep the small smile off your lips, and Harry leans forward, reaching for the stem of his glass - perhaps he miscalculates the force needed to pick up a glass, or maybe he’s beginning to feel the effects of the first glass of wine he’d downed - but his hand knocks into the glass, sending it toppling forward onto your arms, sticky red liquid coating your skin. You jerk your arms back as though he’d burned you, watching him hiss as he reaches for the glass before it can spill any further onto you or the white tablecloth now stained with redness.

You swallow the urge to snap at him - that’s counterproductive, and it’ll blow your cover - so you merely inhale, willing the anger down as you reach for your napkin to begin to mop up the mess. “Should watch what you’re doing, honey -”

“My bad, darling - didn’t mean to -”

And the moment of you beginning to like Harry is gone as fast as it had begun, feeling the simmering anger that’s ever-present beneath your skin already beginning to bubble into existence. He’s looking at you with his eyebrows raised as if this is your fault that he can’t control his own glass, like you’re the nuisance, and your desire to retort snarkily is thwarted only as Vincent Carfield’s head turns just slightly to the side, and you can see him and his wife watching the pair of you in what’s clearly an attempt to be subtle.

You rest your palms on the table as Harry sets his glass back on the coaster, and you can feel the similar waves of annoyance rolling off of him that you’re sure you’re mirroring. “I’m going to go clean myself up,” you tell him. “Excuse me for a moment, sweetheart.”

“Take your time, princess.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you push your chair back with a tight lipped smile, standing up and resting your napkin on the table before your seat as you push past the table towards the bathroom you’d passed when your host had lead you to the table.

The restrooms are nicely decorated, with large mirrors and sinks and two singular stalls - entirely too fancy for the thoughts racing through your mind as you lean over the sink, turning the faucet on and shoving your sticky arms beneath the flow of warm water. You’d managed to clean most of the wine with your napkin but you still just need - perhaps just a moment to yourself, without Harry’s eyes piercing into you in a way that makes it impossible to feel like he doesn’t want to throttle you.

And you want to throttle him, too. That’s why your relationship works because it doesn’t, because you hate him as much as he hates you - and yet, while you were drinking wine and messing around and pretending to be a couple you didn’t hate him. Not even a bit -

Until he spilled the wine. It’s a forcible reminder of why you want to shave off all of his hair when he sleeps, sometimes.

The water has gone cold on your skin when you finally shut the faucet off, picking up a small stack of paper towels to dry off your arms. When you’ve chucked your trash in the wicker-basket garbage bin you take a moment to simply stare at yourself in the mirror, black dress hugging your body just enough to leave very little to the imagination - you adjust the fabric to hide the bulge where you have your knife holstered to your thigh. The cut of the dress dips low into your cleavage - and then you recall how Harry’s eyes had briefly dipped downwards when you’d been talking earlier -

A smile twitches at your lips. You’ll have to remember to use that one against him later.

Just before you turn to leave you pause - stick your hand down the front of your dress to the small audio device you’d hidden in your bra. The bug is small, barely the size of your pinky nail, one side sticky enough to hold onto Vincent Carfield’s tan suit jacket -

You hadn’t thought too much about how you’d manage to subtly get the device on him, but there’s no time like the present, is there?

You leave the bathroom, then - nearly run into your waitress as she stares down at her notepad, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining the dirty look she shoots you - and climb the two short steps it takes to get to the private area you’d been seated in. Harry’s back faces you, curls looking particularly messy and head dropped forward to surely stare at his phone, and you can see Vincent leaning in to talk to his wife with narrowed eyes and a hushed tone.

You inhale and begin your walk over to the table, heels clicking on the tiled floor, and Harry’s head tilts to the side as he hears you coming. Vincent’s eyes rise to meet yours just as your heel slides a bit on the floor and you slip forward right beside their table, and the plan falls into action just as you’d planned in the thirty second walk it had taken to get from the bathroom to here.

Vincent’s arm sticks out instinctively to catch you, wrapped around your stomach for just a moment too long as his other hand rests on your back, and you use the opportunity to reach up and grab his shoulder as a way to steady yourself. Harry jerks around in his seat to watch you, and the concern in his eyes almost makes you revive your brief moment of liking him but it’s overpowered by the pride you feel - if he can’t immediately snuff out that the fall was a fraud, then it had clearly looked realistic enough that the Carfields wouldn’t be able to tell, your hand with the bug pressing to his shoulder

Boom. Planted. Your grip presses the bug against the back of his shoulder as he helps you to your feet, and you pretend not to notice the way his eyes trail up your body - his poor wife looks affronted at the clear display of attraction.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” you apologize, trailing your finger down his arm as he drops his hands back to the table. “I’m so clumsy sometimes -”

“No worries,” he assures you, and perhaps he would seem like a kind, well-adjusted man if it weren’t for the way his eyes zero in on your chest like a magnet - Harry shifts in his seat, watching the two of you, and his wife picks up her glass of wine and downs it in one sip. “Always glad to help a pretty girl in need.”

A blush works its way up your cheeks and before you can flirt back - it raises bile in the back of your throat to do it - Harry intervenes, leaning forward with a goddamn award winning smile and absolutely stomping on your chance to ensure some sort of relationship with Mr. Carfield as he says, “Did she wrinkle your suit at all? We’ll get the laundry bill, if she did.”

You grind your teeth together through a smile as Vincent shakes his bald head, sending Harry a warm smile which your partner gladly reciprocates. “It’s fine - are the two of you married?”

Didn’t he hear you two loudly celebrating your anniversary? Perhaps he just needs to confirm it - nothing wrong with it - but, God, he’s forward.

“Yes, we are,” you reply, and you step away from Vincent to walk back to your table - Harry reaches for your hand and pulls you to him, and you suspect the motion would look awkward if done by anyone else but it feels entirely too natural for you to be bothered. “It’s our two year marriage anniversary, actually. That’s why we’re here - on vacation.”

“That’s lovely,” Vincent says, and his smile stretches wider until it makes you uncomfortable to look at so you busy yourself gazing down at Harry’s head as though you’re so smitten you can hardly stand to look away. Then he holds out his hand, and you grab it, letting him shake it vigorously before he moves towards Harry. “It’s Vincent Carfield,” he tells you both, and Harry jumps in to introduce yourselves by your false names. “How long are you here?” “Just th’weekend,” Harry responds, nodding as Vincent does. “We’re staying downtown.”

“Really?” Vincent leans forward, and you lean your body back just a bit - not enough for him to notice, thankfully. “What hotel?”

And Harry gives him the name and Vincent acts as though it’s the wildest coincidence in the world that you both happen to be staying at one of the nicest, most popular hotels in London but you’re glad he overreacts, in a way. It’s important to establish some sort of relation between the two of you and maybe this’ll make Vincent feel like he’s destined to start some sort of affair with you - sure, it’s stupid, but he’s insecure and you’re ‘married’ and that should make him feel a bit more in control, knowing there’s a man waiting for you when you’re with him.

The thought could nearly make you gag. You hope beyond hope that it doesn’t have to get to it - that maybe the two of you could just sit and talk while Harry searches his hotel room - but, judging from the way he’s practically salivating as he stares up at you, you don’t think that’ll be the case.

After another moment of chatter your waitress arrives with a large plate of salad in each hand - you let go of Harry’s hand with one last departing wink to Vincent Carfield as you walk around the table to your seat, pushing your seat into the table just as your salad is placed before you.

Vincent’s wife glares at you - you’d feel bad in any other scenario. But - hey - at least they’re getting divorced already.

You pick up your fork, stabbing into a crouton and a few pieces of iceberg lettuce, and you raise it to your mouth, chewing thoughtfully on your food as Harry mirrors your actions. The two of you eat in silence for a minute or two, and you occasionally lift your wine to take a sip - he hadn’t poured himself a new glass, for which you are extremely grateful - before he leans in, curls flopping around his ears in a way that would be adorable if you didn’t have any sort of niggling annoyance for him still lingering.

“Good job, Mrs. Robinson,” murmurs Harry into a forkful of lettuce before shoving it into his mouth, and you scrunch your nose at his sloppiness.

“It’s what I’m best at,” you respond in earnest, and you relish in the way he rolls his eyes.

 ~~

 Harry takes forever in the shower.

It’s an indisputable fact at this point and one you should have gotten used to but it never fails to amaze you as your fingers type away at the headquarters-issued laptop resting on the carpet in front of you. He’s already been in the bathroom for nearly 20 minutes - you can hear his music playing, old hippie music that’s always blaring from his earbuds on plane and car rides, and steam billows out of the crack in the bottom of the door - and you’ve been picking up where he left up setting up the audio transmitter you’d attached to Vincent Carfield so you can hear what he’s saying, wired earbuds plugged into the computer preparation for when you start the audio.

Harry hadn’t done much at all to set it up - you can’t imagine what he was doing in the hotel room while you were showering if he wasn’t working on the mission, but you’d come out after your shower and hardly anything was done.

They should come up with better technology for this, you think as you drum your fingernails against your laptop, watching the small loading bar inch across the computer screen, transmitting the audio from next door to both your laptop and to Mark, back at headquarters. You’d texted him briefly to ask if he still wanted you to call him and he told you to merely connect the audio to him and there would be no issues - well, that’s fine by you, even if you’d largely counted on him coming between you and Harry when you’ll inevitably want to kill him later tonight.

The water shuts off. You roll your eyes for a good few seconds as you hear the shower curtain being shoved open from inside the bathroom, and you lean further into the computer before you, squinting at the loading bar that hasn’t progressed further since the last time you examined it. You sigh - push yourself off of the floor, arms stretched above your head and the sleeves of your t-shirt slide further down your shoulders. You’re simply donning a worn college shirt you’d gotten when you were in high school and still had dreams of attending a typical university - dreams that, evidently, you had squashed in the years to come - and a pair of sleep shorts, their waist just a tad too big on you and you’ve tugged them up further than they should rest.

It’s decidedly chilly in the hotel. The steam dissipating through the room from Harry’s shower serves as the only way to heat you up, humid air warm on your skin, and you hate the way you almost appreciate him for taking such a piping hot shower - but the thought doesn’t have to linger too long before the bathroom door opens with the force of a fucking bullet and Harry walks out, towel tied around his waist and hanging low on his hips, sopping curls brushed and resting on his shoulders, droplets from the strands rolling down his chest.

Your stomach flips. 

“Christ,” you say as a way of hiding the way your skin suddenly feels like there’s a fire lighting it from the inside out, burning your insides with it. “Don’t have any clothes to put on?”

He rolls his eyes - you swallow thickly, perching yourself on the edge of the bed as he takes a moment to stop and glance at the computer on the ground before turning back to you. “Changing in the bathroom is gross,” and - well, yeah, you have to agree with that. “Y’practically stripped naked in front f’me earlier, y’know.”

“You did it first,” you mutter, pulling your legs to cross beneath you as Harry crosses the room to the full length mirror mounted on the wall, fingers running through his wet curls, and you tear your eyes away from the water dripping onto his bare skin with only mild difficulty. “The audio is loading.”

“I saw that, believe it or not.”

Dick. You bite your tongue, though, and resist the urge to retort that he’d clearly not even started to set up the transmitter while you were showering, because the loading bar has moved nearly to the end of the screen while you’d been conversing with Harry. You climb off the bed, kneeling in front of the computer as Harry looks down at you, and you distinctly feel a drop from his hair land on the top of your head.

“S’done?” he inquires, and you glance up at him to reply but he’s already plopping down next to you, leaning over you to squint at the screen so you get a nice whiff of the hotel soap he’d used and his own distinct scent of shampoo - it’s fruity, mixed with something musky you can’t decipher - maybe tobacco? It’s hard to tell - he smells good. You wonder if he’s noticed how still you’ve gotten but then he pulls away, leaning back on his arm while you clear your throat and lean forward, tapping the mousepad on your laptop a few times in quick succession. “You’ve got it hooked to Mark?”

“‘Course,” you say, if only to regain your composure and keep your pretense of light annoyance with him. “Probably why it’s taking so long.”

“Ah.”

Then he stands, crossing to the entrance hall where his suitcase is opened, clothes folded meticulously because he’s nothing if not a freak for his clothes - out of the corner of your eye you see him pull out a pair of pajama pants and only a pair of pajama pants, and when his head turns to glance back at you, you’re quick to avert your gaze back to the computer -

Which has loaded. Hooray!

“It’s done,” you call to him, a decibel too loud and you’re quick to lower your voice with a small glance to the wall separating you and the Carfields. Earlier, you’d heard their door slam when they got home from dinner and you could make out their faint voices arguing if you focused hard enough - you don’t want them to hear you. “Get changed and we can listen.”

You pick up one of the earbuds connected to the laptop and shove it in your ear, fiddling with the volume buttons until it’s loud enough that you can hear their conversations as Harry ducks back into the bathroom. Clearly the coat with the bug has been folded in such a way that it muffles their voices but hell, it’s a strong bug, and you can still manage to hear them fine enough.

You send a text to Mark, and he confirms he can hear it too - you toss your phone to the side, letting it slide across the carpet as you lean in, adjusting the earbud in your ear.

Vincent’s voice is what you hear first - he’s talking fast, as though he’s in a rush, and your brows furrow.

“The new shipment isn’t set to come in until the first,” he says, tone hushed and soft, and you can’t hear his wife’s response after a moment of listening, and then he continues. “Think, you idiot! She’s trying to milk me for everything I’ve got - everything we’ve worked for -”

For a brief moment you wonder who she is, but after another few moments with no response you figure that he isn’t talking to his wife as you’d expected - he’s on the phone with someone, speaking of his divorce. A business partner - of course. The bathroom door opens, and your eyes shift to Harry’s figure as you hold out the available earbud for him.

Fuck. He’s gonna fucking kill you - not with his hands or with his gun but with those fucking pants, so low on his hips you can see the trail of hair leading beneath the plaid fabric, the tie done loose and casual. He’s not wearing a shirt, tattoos on full display for you to ogle if you had the time to, and you don’t, of course, but it doesn’t stop your eyes from roaming over his torso, throat feeling suddenly dry as he pads over to you on the ground, dropping to his knees beside you.

“Are you checking me out?” Harry questions, a soft smirk dancing on his lips and you roll your eyes, dangling the earbud for him to grab and he finally takes it, placing it in his left ear just as Vincent begins to speak again.

“Never,” you murmur, and if that isn’t the furthest from the truth you could get to you’re not quite sure what is. “Listen to him - I’m going to the bathroom.” And, as you push yourself to stand and walk towards the bathroom, you swear you can hear him murmur slacker beneath his breath but - well - you don’t need to respond to everything he says sometimes.

Truthfully, yes. You did have to pee. And when you’re done with that you turn on the faucet to wash your hands and you stare at the bathroom mirror that’s still damp from the steam of his shower, edges still frosted with the humidity, and it makes your reflection fuzzy as you look at yourself.

What the fuck? Seriously - what the fuck?

There’s a pressure in your lower stomach and a neediness between your thighs that you can only assign to Harry’s freshly-showered, no-shirt-low-pants appearance and it has shame bubbling under your skin mixed with some other feeling you don’t care enough to figure out. You’re feeling very strange things for Harry - things you’ve never felt for him, ever, in the entire year of knowing him - and you’re almost completely positive he doesn’t feel the same, doesn’t have the same desire to bend you over this sink -

Almost. But almost is very close to absolutely positive.

You feel embarrassed for yourself as you glance around the sink. His hairbrush sits on the counter, and there are so many assorted beauty products scattered across the surface that you can’t tell which ones are yours or his.

The lotion is his, you decide. You don’t use unscented lotion - but you reach for it anyway, squirting a dollop onto your palms and rubbing it in for a reason you’re not entirely sure of. When your hands are as soft as they’re going to get you glance at yourself in the mirror again, shirt baggy and long, the ends of your shorts peeking beneath the fabric.

You reach up, pulling the waistband of your shorts up until they aren’t visible beneath the ends of your shirt, exposing your legs until it appears you’re wearing no sleep shorts beneath the shirt. It’s more comfortable like that, anyway, you tell yourself, which isn’t quite true, before pushing the bathroom door open and walking back out to where Harry’s perched on the floor.

He turns to look at you, and you don’t miss the way his eyes crawl up your legs but he’s a bit more subtle about it than you’re sure you were - his bottom lip looks a deeper shade of red than the top and you wonder if he’d been biting it.

You decide not to repeat his retort about checking you out, even if you’re almost entirely sure he was.

“How’s it going?” you inquire, picking up your earbud to begin listening again. The wire connecting the two buds is short and you shift closer to him until the tip of your kneecap brushes his - you’d expected him to jerk away like you’d fucking stepped on him but he doesn’t, surprisingly. “Got anything juicy?”

“Jus’ vague references t’shipments and goods - they’re trying t’trace his call, see who he’s talking to.” You nod, resting your chin on your palm as Vincent drones on about exactly what Harry had said - the only substantial piece of evidence you have pointing to his business being a coverup for a drug trafficking scheme is references to obscene amounts of money he fears losing to his ex-wife that he would’ve never been able to obtain working at a privately-owned tailory. 

For ten minutes Vincent’s phone call remains as a bit of a drag and, truthfully, a rather large waste of time in your opinion - this is stuff you’d already known, including the shipment coming in a week’s time that you know headquarters will be able to intercept - and you’ve just begun to pull out your earbud to retreat to the bathroom once more to brush your teeth when Harry’s arm jerks towards you, fingers wrapping around your wrist and effectively preventing you from rising.

“Jesus hell,” you hiss, dropping back down onto the ground as you shove your earbud back in, “what -?”

But then Vincent is speaking again.

“ - look, buddy,” he says, voice suddenly dropped lower so that Harry reaches out, tapping the volume button a few times until you can hear him properly, “met this girl at dinner tonight, out with Bonnie. Real cute - body like a fuckin’ goddess.”

Your cheeks flush as a small smirk spreads across Harry’s face.

Vincent pauses, clearly awaiting his business partner’s response to this shocking bit of news, and when he speaks again he sounds more annoyed. “Fuckin’ done with Bonnie - I’m a free agent, Jules.”

You snap at Harry, but he’s already fishing for his phone, pulling up the notes app and jotting down the name Jules in a fresh page.

“Can fuck whoever I want to, now, and I swear, you’d die if you saw her.” You can practically picture the scumbag’s face as he says it, all smug and arrogant - as though you’d ever give him the time of a day if you weren’t being fucking paid for it. “Staying at the same hotel too, with her husband.”

Another pause. “Jules, do you think I give a shit about husbands? Remember Mia, in LA? The one married to that big fella? She was all over me.”

Your lips quirk up into a smile even as your stomach continues to churn in disgust, and Harry exhales softly, resting his phone on top of his knee. Clearly, Vincent’s conversation with Jules has turned from fighting for nearly fifteen minutes about shipments and payments to you and it’s entirely less important but it still piques your interest more. The gritty details of their shipping is for Mark to handle back at headquarters - you need to make sure you can distract Vincent long enough for Harry to search his room.

“ - and, man, you should’ve seen the eyes this girl was giving me - and her husband was all over her, too, checkin’ her out but she was still looking at me -”

You nearly choke at that, head whipping to the side to look at Harry, and he’s doing a sufficient job of furrowing his eyebrows and looking entirely confused at Vincent’s words but you don’t believe him for a moment. Checking you out - God, and you had the nerve to feel embarrassed for your desire for him. A month ago you may have been truly annoyed at Vincent’s observation but it only fuels the fire igniting in your core as Harry puts on his pretense of adjusting his earbuds, tips of his ears bright red as he pointedly avoids your gaze, and you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from grinning.

“I’ll let you go. God, don’t sound so pretentious - didn’t you hook up with that French chick who was married to the boxer? - Yeah, that’s what I thought -”

You’re much less interested in Vincent’s conversations now, pulling your earbud out and standing up, arms stretched high above your head as Harry stays, leaning against the ground with one arm. After a moment, though, Vincent must have ended his phone call - Harry shuts the laptop and pulls his earbud out, standing up, and your gazes meet for a moment.

“Vincent’s an idiot,” he tells you, flush creeping up his neck, and you nod.

“Is he?’

“Y’know he was just saying that so he seemed cool, right?”

“Said what?”

Harry rolls his eyes, then, and you can’t stop the smirk from gracing your lips once more as he crosses across the hotel room, collapsing onto his back onto the bed, and you furrow your eyebrows as you watch him. “Didn’t check you out.”

“I didn’t say you did.” He doesn’t respond, and you sit yourself on the edge of the bed, glaring down at his slumped figure. “You’re not getting the bed.”

“‘Course I am. We fought it out, remember?”

“And we didn’t finish.”

“We absolutely did,” and then he pushes himself to sit up, leaning against the headboard, and it takes more willpower than you possess to keep your eyes from roaming his body but you resist with everything in you - you’ll just about die if he calls you out for checking him out. “I beat you. I had y’against the headboard.”

“That was inconclusive.”

“Get on the couch.”

You narrow your eyes at him and he narrows his right back, staring into his fucking soul because you’ll be damned if you sleep on the couch, even if it makes logistical sense because he is taller than you - but, no. You’re the one who could possibly have to fuck Vincent Carfield in all his glory. You deserve the bed, size be damned.

In the end, you blink first, and come bedtime, you’re nestled on the couch with blankets you’d found in the hotel wardrobe.

You hate Harry.

 ~~

 The couch is extremely uncomfortable. It’s what you’d expected but your back still aches in pain when you wake up at 3 in the fucking morning, blankets dangling off the edge of the cushions you’re bundled on top of, and the pillow your head was resting on has slipped off onto the ground.

The room is pitch black as you groan, the noise purposefully loud, reaching down until your fingers graze the edge of the pillow - but your grip is slow, tired, and as you pick up the pillow to throw it back behind your head it slips from your grasp, dropping onto the ground and bouncing against the carpet until it’s resting a solid six feet from the couch.

Do you really need a pillow? You’re not sure, but you desperately don’t want to have to get up and get it because you know your sleepiness will melt away before you can even think about it, and, more than anything, you desire going back to sleep in order to try and be well rested for tomorrow. 

You reach down and pull your clump of blankets back up over yourself, pulling your knees further against your chest so the entire area of the blankets coats your body. Your head rests against the flat cushion, pillow be damned, and you shift again until your back is rested flat against the cushion as well, legs sticking straight out in front of you, the couch creaking at the movement.

The blankets don’t cover your legs - you push one of them down until they’re situated onto your feet, collectively covering your entire body even if it isn’t necessarily warm. At least they’re blanketed to some degree.

After ten minutes of trying to go back to bed, you pointedly decide that yes, you really do need a pillow, and immediately. Your neck already aches with the uncomfortable position and your ears feel chilly without being pressed into the soft pillow you’d snatched from the bed Harry is currently sleeping on - the bastard. He’d practically suffocated you with his smug gazes before he fell asleep, curled on top of the bed that he’d (rightfully) claimed as his after an arm wrestle, rock paper scissors game, and a half-hearted second attempt at a wrestling match - you’d lost all three.

Whatever. You’d been determined not to sulk at your losses before returning to the couch, trying not to let Harry see you mope but now you wish you’d made a bigger show of your disappointment - perhaps he’d have caved and taken the couch, but you’re sure he’d have stayed firm no matter what.

You slowly push yourself off of the couch, creeping across the room towards where your pillow rests on the ground, and you pick it up, clutching it tight to your chest before returning to the couch. You press it against the cushion, punching it a few times to attempt to soften it before huffing softly, lying yourself back down and tugging your blankets tight back up against you.

The next ten minutes goes by much as the night had previously - you can’t find a good position, turning onto your side and your back and your stomach until you’re hardly sure which way you’re facing, at this point, face buried tight against your pillow. You long for not much more than a soft bed for your back to rest into and you’re sure you’ll be a sore, tired disaster tomorrow when you manage to find Vincent Carfield in the hotel.

You turn to your side, the couch squeaking beneath the shift in your weight, and your body tenses when you hear a soft groan from the lump wrapped in covers on top of the bed, his silhouette illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the window into the hotel room.

“How much longer are y’gonna move?” Harry grunts, voice low and raspy and you swallow when you hear it - if you close your eyes and listen to him speak, you could almost imagine him sounding like that in a very different scenario - “Keepin’ me up.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” you retort, voice soft and crackling with your yearning to sleep. “If you’d like to take the couch so I stop tossing and turning, I’d much appreciate it.”

He exhales softly, the noise sounding so deep and pornographic it makes your stomach flip. “In your dreams.”

You narrow your eyes as you stare at him, duvet pulled up to his chest and head turned to the side towards you - in the dark you can’t tell if his eyes are shut or if he’s looking at you. For a moment you decide not to say anything, hands crossed over your stomach, and then you shift loudly onto your back, couch creaking, and Harry sighs just as you’d anticipated.

“Please,” he begins, tone low and pleading, and you cut him off before he can continue.

“Not my fault the couch is loud, Har.”

“You’re doin’ it on purpose.”

“Of course I’m not,” you tell him, shifting again so another noise permeates the air of the hotel room. “The couch is just noisy - and uncomfortable.”

There’s a rather pregnant pause after that and you keep your eyes on Harry, watching the way he shifts onto his back, opening up a rather small sliver of space beside him and your heart practically leaps at the sight but you don’t say anything else - simply roll back onto your side, the couch creaking as you do, and he sighs again.

It seems like he sighs a lot.

“If I invite you into my bed,” Harry begins, and a small smile begins tugging your lips upwards even if you want to groan at his usage of the word my, “you’ll promise t’be quiet an’ go t’sleep?”

God, he sounds like your mother. “Yes,” you tell him, clutching the blankets wrapped around your torso. “I promise.”

Another pause. “Then - then y’can come. We can share.”

You try not to look too eager. Masking your emotions is, perhaps, the most important aspect of your job and yet you’re sure you look just as excited as you feel, pushing yourself to your feet with your blankets wrapped around your body, pillow stowed beneath your arm. Your feet pad across the carpet, toes sinking into the plushness of the floor before you make it to the bed, and Harry’s staring up at you, face contorted in a mixture of emotions you can’t decipher.

“Not gonna scooch over, then?” you question, resting your pillow against the bed and hitting it a few times. 

“Y’have room, don’t you?”

And the answer is that you don’t, of course. When you lie yourself down on the bed your legs knock into Harry’s, head so close to his you can feel his curls grazing your face, and the duvet you pull up your chin smells like him, distinctly. His elbow juts into your side - your cold foot rests against his warm one - you don’t think you’ve ever touched him this much outside of a mission.

You drape your clump of blankets over your body, partially resting on top of Harry, smoothing your palms over the fabric with a contented sigh. Your back is thanking you for the switch in sleeping spots and your neck sinks into the pillow and mattress, aches already beginning to alleviate themselves.

“Still need me t’move?” Harry asks, and you shut your eyes, nearly missing the way his eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary before he rests himself back against the bed.

“No,” you murmur, and there’s another moment of silence before he mumbles his affirmation. Tomorrow you’re sure you’ll regret this - sleeping beside him, even if that’s all you do - feeling him pressed against parts of your body you’d never expected to feel his touch on.

Well, you’d rather deal with the tinge of embarrassment (and pride) than an achy back and lack of sleep - you smile slightly.

 ~~

 The next morning comes entirely too soon for your liking - sunlight peeking through the windows permeates your eyelids until you’re groaning awake, palm pressed against your eyes to block the light and face burying itself back into your pillow.

Your alarm hasn’t gone off yet. If your alarm doesn’t go off, then it’s not morning. Surely you have a few more hours of rest before you need to get up - even a couple more minutes will do -

Just as the thought crosses your mind your phone blares its alarm, the loud noise jolting you up like a bucket of ice water, and, from behind you, Harry grunts into his pillow.

Behind you.

You’re quick to silence your alarm - another nine full minutes of peaceful resting, if you’re lucky, before you’re disturbed again, though you’re sure you won’t get back to bed now that you’ve remembered the events of last night. 

Harry’s arm is heavy, draped over your midsection, the soft surface of his cheek buried intently into the crevice between your neck and shoulder - you can feel his soft breathing against your skin, the air a warm and gentle sensation. One of his legs has wedged itself between yours, thigh pressed entirely too high in the crevice between your thighs, and with every moment that passes you can feel the rise and fall of his bare chest as he snores behind you.

What a fucking sight, you think, sitting up slightly to look down at him. God, if he were awake, you’d tease him until he cries about what a position the pair of you had worked yourselves into but you have the foresight to see how that would backfire on you - technically, you’re just as to blame as he is, even if he’s the bigger spoon right now.

But you’re most decidedly not to blame for the hardness pressing into your lower back, tearing a sleepy groan from Harry’s throat when you shift in your position.

The bastard. He’s hard as a fucking rock from pressing against you while you slept, and a sleepy smirk spreads across your face as you glance down at him. In any other circumstance you think you’d poke him awake just to make him aware of it but there’s a certain air of desire you’re feeling as well that makes you feel - well, not as though you’re in the appropriate position to make fun of him for his boner.

Slowly, you disentangle yourself from his body. His leg drops to the mattress when you swing your own off the edge of the bed, his arm falling until it’s resting in your lap, palm pressed against a certain area that makes your breath hitch, furrowing your eyebrows as you glance down at his hand. There are still fading, pink indents from the rings he takes off every night and before every mission, save for the fake wedding band the two of you often have to don on missions, and you scrunch your nose as you admire it.

Married. You don’t think so. The only time you think of him with anything other than hatred is when he’s asleep, like this - or shirtless.

You stand up, shaking your head to wipe those thoughts from your mind. Harry’s hand drops onto the mattress and you can tell it’s the push he needed into consciousness - you glance back at him to see his eyes cracked open, and they shut when your gazes meet.

“‘Morning,” you tell him, voice louder than you’d intended, and he winces at the noise, shifting onto his back - it’s as though you can see the exact moment he realizes his little problem mixed with the realization that you would also know about it, pressed up against him during the night - his eyes widen ever so slightly, and he pushes himself to lean against the headboard, bundling his duvet onto his lap. 

“Um - g’morning,” Harry replies, voice raspy like it had been the night prior and your stomach turns - you shift on your feet. “Y’goin’ t’the bathroom?”

“You can go first,” you say, and he nods, bringing fists up to rub at his eyes. And then - because you just can’t help pissing him off when you have such a golden opportunity - you add, “Think you might need it a bit more than I do.”

His face reddens.

 ~~

 Earpiece. Knife. Boobs.

You go through the things you need on a mental checklist as you pick up your forkful of scrambled eggs, chewing thoughtfully on the bite. The hotel restaurant is nearly completely full, couples and families packed into the small tables as they feast on their complimentary breakfasts, chatter filling the section. You’ve been sitting eating (truthfully, delicious) breakfast for the better half of an hour, bringing your plate up to the buffet to refill your platter of eggs, fruit, and toast.

Realistically, you would have eaten and left had you not been waiting for a very specific somebody to walk in and catch your eye. You and Harry had plugged back into the bug in Vincent’s room to hear him planning to go down for complimentary breakfast - the only clue you had as to how he wanted to spend his day - and it was the only opportunity you had to find him. Get him out of his room - talking, if possible - so Harry can search it.

It’s such an easy plan, you could practically do it in your sleep.

“Is he there yet?” inquires a crackling voice from your earpiece, disguised as an earring dangling from your lobes.

“No,” you murmur, voice soft as a whisper, and you’re sure he can’t hear your response until he sighs.

“Takin’ his time, isn’t he?”

“Mhm.”

You pick up your glass of orange juice, raising the cup to rouge-stained lips as you take a sip. When you rest it back down on the table, there’s a light red stain on the glass - you wipe it away with a manicured thumb, leaning back in your seat, legs crossed. Your eyes scan the restaurant again, lingering on any newcomers leaning against the wall in case you can pinpoint the man you’re searching for - wide frame, untailored suits, bald head that shines in the artificial light.

(Complimentary breakfast ends at 10, and it’s 9:48. It’s safe to say that you’re getting nervous.)

Your nerves, however, are soothed just a bit when a familiar figure makes his way into the dining hall - tall and haughty, phone pressed to his sweaty head, Vincent Carfield is the image of a stressed businessman, recently divorced and searching for a young, married woman who’d given him eyes last night. His suit is baggy, buttons of the jacket undone and his white button up has sweat stains spreading from the armpits, visible with his arm lifted up to his ear. Instinctively your back straightens, tugging down the top of your lace top so that the top of your cleavage shows - it seems to be your greatest weapon, dealing with a man like Carfield.

You lower your gaze to your phone clutched in your hand but you can still sense exactly the moment his eyes land on you. In your peripheral vision you watch him straighten up, lips moving quickly before his phone is shoved into his pocket, weaving his way between circular tables until he’s standing beside you, and you pretend not to notice the way his eyes never meet yours - his gaze stays on a point eerily similar to your chest.

“Is he there?” Harry questions, and you clear your throat - it’s the symbol you’d decided on to mean yes if you can’t speak.

“Vincent,” you begin, faux smile spreading across your face, and a similar one lands on his features. He reaches for your hand and you give it to him, watching him press chapped, dry lips to the back of your palm, and the urge to scrunch your nose at the feeling is almost overwhelming. “It’s so good to see you.”

“And you,” he says, and you drop your hand back to the tablecloth resting on your table. “Can I sit?”

“Of course,” you reply, and he pulls out the empty seat across from you, resting with a soft grunt. “Breakfast ends in a few minutes, though - you’re welcome to have some of mine, if you’re hungry.”

He obliges, reaching to pull your plate to him, and you watch as he picks up your buttered toast, taking a large bite and smacking his lips as he chews. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”

You raise your eyebrows, leaning forward ever so slightly. “And why is that?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Vincent tells you, and in your earpiece, Harry snorts at his words - you hope you didn’t jump too hard at his sudden noises in your ear. “I hoped I wasn’t getting the wrong idea at dinner, last night -”

“What idea were you getting?”

“That you were interested in me,” and you tilt your head to the side, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth - if Harry could see the act you’re playing right now, you’d be humiliated. At least he can only hear it. “I saw the eyes you were giving me - not even worried ‘bout your husband seeing?”

“He’s too dense to notice,” you say, a smile tilting your lips up as Harry groans - from his side of the earpiece you can hear bustling mixed with the sound of a door opening, and you assume he’s just entered Vincent’s apartment. He needs at least a half hour, Mark had told you - breakfast ends in nearly five minutes, and you need somewhere else to take Carfield. “You know, Vince - is it okay if I call you Vince?”

“I don’t think he cares what you call him,” mumbles Harry, so quiet you’re sure he’s hardly even intending for you to hear it, “as long as you have your hand down his pants in the next ten minutes.”

Your cheeks flush as Vincent smiles, leaning back in his seat as he finishes off your toast. “Call me whatever you want to,” he tells you, and you can practically hear Harry rolling his eyes through your earpiece.

“Alright, Vince - breakfast is ending in a few minutes, and I desperately hope we can keep talking.” He nods along with your words, leaning in as he pushes his plate to the center of the table - all that’s left is the fruit and the remnants of your eggs. “Do you think we could go up to my room? My husband is off visiting some family members across London - he won’t be home for hours.”

“Hours?”

“Hours,” you confirm, nodding as you take another sip of your orange juice - this time you don’t wipe the lipstick stain off of your glass, and you watch his eyes follow the mark as you lower the glass back to the table. “Can we go, Vince?”

Clearly he isn’t thinking clearly enough to question how curious it is that you’d had similar feelings for him without much trouble at all - instead, he smiles like a boy on Christmas morning. He practically knocks the table in his rush to stand up - you watch a red blush creep up his neck to his ears as he grabs it, steadying the wobbling surface, and you pretend you hadn’t noticed when he holds his hand out for you. You allow him to take your hand in his and he pulls you to your feet, wrapping a secure arm around your waist, palm stretched across your hips so his fingertips creep up the hem of your lace shirt.

“Are you going to our room?” questions Harry in your ear, and there’s a few scuffling noises on the other end that makes you internally cringe as Vincent begins weaving the pair of you between tables that are now emptying as complimentary breakfast reaches its end. “____? ‘Y’goin’ t’our room?”

You clear your throat once, and Vincent glances over at you with an amused glance on his face as the two of you make your way out of the restaurant. “Are you okay, darling?”

The pet name makes you cringe internally and you give him a soft smile as you approach the hallway full of elevators, available to take you to any of the available thirteen residential floors of the hotel - Vincent presses the button to go up, and you wait for the doors to open. “I’m great.”

“Make sure he doesn’t want to stop in his room,” Harry mutters, and you swallow, your smile not faltering. You want to tell Harry to make sure he’s completely quiet in his endeavors in Vincent’s room but you’re sure he already knows - you can’t risk Vincent hearing a strange noise while you’re attempting to distract him.

The elevator doors open, and Vincent pulls you inside with a grip on your waist like a vise. He glances at the array of buttons available to press, and looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s floor 13,” you tell him, and he smiles, pressing the button until it glows.

“Floor 13? That’s where I’m staying, too,” he says, and you nod in mock-surprise -

“What a surprise,” Harry snorts in your ear, and you can’t stop the smirk from spreading across your face.

 ~~

 There’s a thick thigh pressed between both of yours, sweaty palms slid beneath your lace top, and you don’t think you’ve ever found a man’s touch less desirable in your  life - and, for whoever may be keeping a record, this job has required you to get up close and personal with more skeevy men that you’d expected when you’d applied.

The only thing keeping a blissed out look on your face is your focus on the soft noises coming from the other end of your earpiece as Vincent lands wet, open-mouthed kisses to your throat, tongue laving over your skin - hearing Harry’s occasional quiet breathing and muffled noises as he searches the hotel room next to yours makes this entirely worth it.

Against your throat, Vincent moans, and the noise is throaty and loud - you can hear Harry stifling a laugh directly into your ear, and the noise sends a chill rolling up your spine. Clearly, Vincent thinks your involuntary movement was for him - his hands grasp on your tits entirely too hard to be pleasurable and you bite back the urge to tell him so. “Such a dirty girl,” he tells you.

You rest your head back against the wall he has you pressed against with a moan that sounds entirely fake from your throat. You can almost imagine how Harry’s going to make fun of this when he sees you next, and your stomach turns when you think about it for a reason you can’t quite decipher. “Fuck,” you say, forcing your voice to a near whine, and you swear you can hear Harry’s voice hitch through your piece but you’re not sure. “Feels - so good.”

The lie sounds natural off of your lips as Vincent’s knee jabs into your clit - the pressure is a pain rather than a pleasure and your breath hitches as you try not to cry out. He chuckles against your skin, clearly taking your soft sign of pain as an emblem of pleasure, and you shut your eyes as his teeth graze the veins in your neck.

“No way,” breathes Harry, and your ears perk up - had he found something in Vincent’s room? “S’he actually good at that?”

You want to snort at that. Of course he isn’t good but the thought of Harry listening spurs you on more than it should - you roll your hips against Vincent’s thigh with a soft moan, higher pitched than your last one, and the man on the other end of your earpiece exhales.

“That sounded fake,” Harry says, voice soft and light, and you want to slam your head into the wall so he knows that he’s starting to piss you off from next door. “So he’s not makin’ y’feel good?”

You practically freeze. If Vincent wasn’t tugging your shirt up to expose your tits to the cold air of your hotel room, you’re sure you would have forgotten where you were completely. Those words from Harry’s mouth mixed with an edge of venom isn’t what you’d expected him to say at all - on the contrary, you’d think he was fucking with you, trying to work you up to embarrass you if you couldn’t hear his little moans that he’s clearly trying to silence.

Is he worked up? Because you can work with that.

You drop your head back to whack against the wall with a loud moan as Vincent’s clammy lips press to the fabric of your bra. Your hand goes up to press to the back of his bald head, fingernails scratching against his sweaty scalp and you wish - not for the first time - that you were feeling thick, chocolate-toned curls beneath your fingers instead, tugging on them as his tongue lavished you. Though, in your mind, it’s more teeth and grit and anger because you’re sure you’d find a way to be angry with Harry even if his mouth were on your tits - it’s one of your special skills - in every fantasy you’ve had of your partner it’s violent and harsh.

“Fuck,” grunts a voice from your earpiece, and hardly a moment later Vincent groans a similar noise as you rock your hips against his thigh. Thankfully he seems to be getting a decent amount of pleasure just making out with your boobs like a teenage boy and - maybe, if Harry is quick enough in his search of his hotel room - you won’t have to fuck him at all. It’ll be a Christmas miracle (a month early, but a miracle nonetheless.) “Are y’fuckin’ him?”

You whimper, Harry’s voice shooting from your ear directly down to your cunt and your clit and you feel wetness soaking your knickers, pressed against Vincent’s thigh though it may as well be the arm of a couch for how it affects you - the only pleasure you get from Vincent’s hard body against yours is the urge to close your eyes and imagine it’s Harry.

“No, you’re not,” says Harry, and there’s a soft clatter in your earpiece - surely he’s dropped something from the room next door and you tense. Surely Vincent hadn’t heard it, teeth still gnashing against your bra, and he seems too distracted to pay attention to it. “M’hard as a fuckin’ rock, ____ - thinkin’ of you, gettin’ off on my voice, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you exhale, and Vincent glances up at you, thick brows furrowed in confusion. You swallow, focusing on giving yourself a satisfied expression, and he turns back to your chest, seemingly convinced of your pleasure. “Yes - making me feel so good.”

Harry groans in your ear, and you wonder, suddenly, if he’s jerking off - if he’s leaning against Vincent Carfield’s bed, hand pumping up and down his cock as he listens to you. Maybe he’s in the bathroom, or leaning against the wall like you are, his breathing picking up as sweat drips down his forehead - 

“Gonna fuck you,” Vincent mumbles against your boobs, and you scrunch your nose. “Want me to fuck you?”

“Just -” you swallow, and Harry snickers in your ear, the soft laugh breathy and groaning. “Just wait, feels so good -”

“Don’t fuck him,” says Harry, and there’s a few more jostling noises on the other end mixed with another soft moan - you have a sudden image of him, digging through Vincent Carfield’s possessions with a firm hand around his cock and you feel the result of that imagery stricken straight down to your clit like a fucking lightning bolt until you’re crying out, and your orgasm is on you so embarrassingly fast you could sob in embarrassment. “I’m almost there -”

You’re not sure if he means he’s almost about to cum or if he’s almost found something to convict Vincent - you’re not entirely sure which interpretation you’d prefer. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you breathe, the words sour on your tongue as Vincent glances up at you with a wicked smile, jolting his thigh further up into your clit, and you furrow your eyebrows at the pain the motion brings. “Fuck, H - Vincent.”

“Y’were gonna say m’name,” Harry hisses, and you squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassment coursing through your veins. You almost fucked everything up. “Cum. Let Vincent think he made y’cum - go ahead - do it.”

And - fuck. Who are you to disobey? You grind your core down on Vincent’s thigh with a throaty cry, and your orgasm rushes over you with an embarrassing waterfall of pleasure and shame. Never have you cum so easily and it wasn’t even Harry’s touch - simply his voice, his groans as he listens to you come undone - and, in the end, the only thing to pull you from your high is Vincent’s eyes boring into yours, eyebrows raised and lips parted as he pulls his face from your chest with a most satisfied expression on his face.

You want to smack it off of him - if you hadn’t already cum, that look would’ve stopped you in your tracks. As it is, it slows the aftershocks of your release into dull nothingness while Harry moans in your earpiece, his noises a mere backdrop to the sudden growing sounds of scuffling and jostling, and his sharp gasp is loud enough for Vincent’s head to snap up.

“Did you hear that?” Vincent questions - Harry curses into your earpiece.

“I found something,” Harry tells you, voice dropped to a low whisper. “I found - s’under his mattress - m’calling Mark!”

A small smile spreads across your face at his words. It’s done. He’s found something worthy enough to convict Vincent Carfield, and that’s enough for you to press your palms to his chest, pushing him away from you so forcefully that he stumbles over the carpet, back slamming into the edge of your bed as he falls to the ground. His expression is so confuddled as he stares up at you that, for a moment, you marvel at his lack of self awareness - in an instant you’re reaching up the hem of your skirt to the knife in its holder strapped to your thigh, and you pull the blade out to point at Vincent Carfield, in your ear a myriad of Harry’s delighted cheers of, “I’ve found it!”

 ~~

 Wrapping up a mission isn’t nearly as speedy as you’d like - there’s debriefs and paperwork to complete once Vincent is done and arrested, phone confiscated along with the drugs found in his hotel room by your partner, and physical evaluations to determine whether you’d been hurt, and a long phone call with Mark where he congratulated the pair of you.

Not only for taking down Vincent Carfield, your boss had said, his voice booming and cheerful, but for making it out without killing each other.

If only he knew.

Your plane is set to leave tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn, and if you were more reasonable perhaps you’d heade Mark’s advice to go straight to sleep and set an alarm for 3 AM but you’ve never been too bright in that regard. You finish your last debrief in the hotel restaurant, Harry working diligently beside you, and it’s at nearly 9 PM that the pair of you pack up your work and begin to head upstairs.

The elevator ride is silent when Harry reaches to press the button for your floor. Your room had been closed for you to visit for the better part of the afternoon until Vincent’s had been properly searched, though Harry had gladly given the authorities everything he’d found without a moment of hesitation. Tiredness creaks at your bones but here - standing beside Harry, feeling his gaze boring into the side of your face - you desire nothing less than to go to sleep.

“Good work, Mr. Robinson,” you tell him, and he raises his eyebrows when you turn your head to look at him. “Fairly easy mission, wasn’t it?”

“For you,” he says, and you arch your eyebrow, frown tugging your lips downwards as the elevator begins to move up. “Gettin’ off on Vincent’s thigh was the hardest part - I had t’search the room.”

For a moment you wonder if he’s kidding and certainly he’s only teasing you but you still roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as heat creeps up your cheeks. “Didn’t seem too difficult, moaning and crying ‘bout how hard you were. I bet I could’ve found the drugs in half the time it took you -”

“You couldn’t have,” Harry says, and you exhale sharply. 

“‘Course I could -”

“Wasn’t hidden in plain sight like everything you find.”

“So where were they?”

He pauses, and you smile down at your shoes - surely you’ve got him now. “Hidden in his computer,” Harry says, then, and your smile is wiped away in an instant. Shit, you wouldn’t have found them. “Not so smart now, are you?”

“Oh, you dick -”

The elevator doors open to your floor and Harry pushes himself off the wall, stalking out of the elevator and you jump to follow him, picking up the pace to walk beside him as he begins down the hall towards your hotel room. It’s entirely too easy, falling back into an arrangement of bickering with him as though nothing had happened - as though you hadn’t cum with his voice alone, and you’re nearly positive that he had, too.

He stops in front of your hotel door, digging in the pockets of his pants for the room key, and you cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t know why you’re actin’ so high and mighty,” he tells you, voice biting as he shoves the key card into the door’s slot - it beeps red, and he tries again. “As f’you didn’t cream your fucking pants jus’ listenin’ t’my voice.”

“I’m not acting high and mighty,” you retort, praying the burning sensation in your face isn’t visible to him but you doubt you’re that lucky. “You don’t have to be such a douche all the time - and, by the way, you came in your pants, too, didn’t you.”

It’s not a question, and Harry flings the door open, letting you walk in before he follows. In an instant, before you can march into the bedroom area to huff at how pissed he’s getting you - it is what he’s best at - there’s a tight grip on your wrist, turning you around so fast your head spins, and before you can object, Harry has you pressed against the door, hands caging you in on either side of your head.

His face is so close to yours you can smell the alcohol on his breath that he’d had while you two worked, mixed with the scent of his mint toothpaste and his shampoo, curls dropping into your face as he wedges his leg between both of yours, thigh pressed against your cunt. It’s just as Vincent had done but so different, so much better, and it tears a whine out of your throat right off the bat.

Your urge is to lean in, clash your lips together in a fury of tongue and teeth but you don’t want to make the first move - Harry can take the lead and you’ll follow, and that’s more than enough for you. So you simply drop your head back, breathing heavy as you stare into his eyes, nearly cross-eyed to meet his gaze. 

“Fuck you,” you tell him, and the words lack the venom you’d yearned for. It’s filled with more desperation and neediness than you’d anticipated, and you feel your stomach flip-flop at the smirk that spreads across Harry’s face. “Fuck you.”

His hands drop from against your head and for a moment you fear he’s going to pull away, that he’s doing this just to fuck with you but then his hands are on your legs, fingertips dancing up and down your outer thighs, fingering the hem of your skirt, and you jolt under him. “You’re so responsive,” he tells you, and you roll your eyes, dropping your head back against the door. “I love getting y’worked up.”

“Shut up,” you groan, feeling his fingers working your skirt up your legs, and the fabric brushes over the edge of your knife, still fastened to your thigh. 

“Like makin’ y’angry.”

“Shut up,” and finally Harry leans in, mouth slamming against yours until your teeth grind against his and your lips part with a shocked gasp. His tongue slips between your lips, your hands reaching up to bury in his curls and hold his face to yours. His palm slides up your thighs, pushing your skirt up around your waist and your cheeks burn as the cold hotel room air assaults your skin, goosebumps popping up in their wake. You whimper into Harry’s lips and he pulls away, palms smoothing up and down your thighs before you feel his fingers hook against the top of your knife, and he tugs the blade out of your holster.

You watch with wary eyes as Harry brings the blade up to his eyes, examining it with narrowed eyes, his other hand still resting on your thigh, fingertips rubbing circles into your skin harsh enough that you’re sure you’ll find bruises tomorrow in the shape of his hands. Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him and his eyes turn to yours, smile tugging his lip up.

“Y’look a bit excited, there,” Harry says - an acute observation, because you’re practically creaming your fucking panties. “Like seein’ me with your knife?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and Harry flips the knife in his hands until the blade is just an inch from the spot between both of your eyes, your orbs crossing to see it. “What are you -”

Before you can finish the question Harry presses the knife forward, the sharp edge of the plate pressed to your cheek, and you inhale sharply, swallowing thickly as he increases pressure against your skin. Fuck, this shouldn’t excite you - he’s not half as good as you are with blades - and you’re sure if he keeps going he’s going to slice you either by accident or on purpose, and it disturbs you how much that thought turns you on.

The blade drags down your skin, tracing along your jawline with pressure light enough to feel like a breath and hard enough to catch yours in your throat - Harry’s watching it with darkened eyes, watching as he lowers it down your throat, tracing it along your neck and the veins.

You drop your head back against the door with a thud, feeling the cool metal on your skin, sweaty from being pressed against him and the heat that encompasses your body until it’s all you can feel, and Harry’s just watching, watching the knife run across your skin.

Your eyes, fluttered shut, shoot open when a sudden burning sensation overtakes the top of your chest - you glance down to see Harry pulling the knife away from you, the tip decorated with just a smudge of dark, red liquid that’s mirrored on your collarbone.

“Did you -?”

“Oops,” Harry says as you bring your fingers to the small nick he’d given you, wiping away the drops of blood that spread on your chest. You raise your narrowed eyes to glare at him and you’re trying - trying so hard - to be furious with him, to get angry, to push him away and yell at him - but, fuck, feeling his thumb rub across the cut on your chest only increases the ball of pressure in your lower abdnomen as you look at him.

Your lips clash once more, more intense than before as you whine into his mouth - Harry’s free hand hoists your thigh around his waist, and when his lips move down to bite at your throat, the hand still clutching your knife pulls back before he slams the blade into the door next to you, surely taking a few of your stray hairs. You yelp, jolting your head back as you whip your head to the side to stare at the knife stuck in the door barely an inch from the side of your head, and Harry lifts his head with a smirk.

“You assho -”

Before you can finish Harry’s hand is wrapped around your throat, cutting off your ability to speak and you can’t help but moan at the pressure even if the noise is choked and gasping - Harry grins, moving his other hand down to your hips until he’s helping you to roll against his thigh, clit rubbing against the fabric of his pants. You tighten your thigh’s hold around his waist, pressing his torso closer to yours, and he, in turn, tightens his grasp on your neck.

“Y’like m’hand on your throat, hmm?” Harry questions, voice low and raspy like how it had been in the middle of the night except more, better and intense, and you whimper in affirmation. “Can’t even talk - can’t even say anything.”

When he finally loosens his hold on you, you gasp for air and bring your arm up to wrap around his neck again, fingers scraping through his scalp to tug his lips back to yours. Your other hand drops to the front of his pants, palm smoothing over his bulging erection before your shaky fingers begin tugging his zipper down.

“Can I tell you something?” says Harry, then, as you fumble to undo the button of his pants until you can shove your hand into the fabric, fingernails dragging along his cock through his boxers - his hips jolt into your hands.

“Yes,” you murmur in response, hand jerking up and down his dick and, even through a layer of fabric, he grunts into your lips.

“I didn’t cum,” he says, and you move your head from his, furrowing your eyebrows. “Didn’t cum, even when I heard y’with Vincent -”

“You -?”

“Didn’t wanna cum when I wasn’t buried in your cunt,” and you gasp sharply as his hand on your throat slides down your body until it’s shoved into your panties, cold fingertips dragging along your soaking folds that drip your ambrosia into his grasp. “Even f’you sounded so good, moanin’ for me - almost pathetic -”

You tighten your grip on his hair until he’s crying out, fingertips pinching your clit in your panties and you jerk your hips into his grasp at the sharp punishment. “Don’t call me that -” you moan, trembling hand pulling his boxers down over his cock while he smirks.

“Pathetic -”

“Fuck you, Harry -”

“Whimperin’ like a baby -”

You move your hand from his hair to his face, grip bruising as you grab his chin in your palm. Your fingertips squeeze his cheek as you force his head to stare at you - the lazy, cocky smile that adorns his features makes you want to throttle him, and your fingers flex against his face.

“What?” Harry questions, tone mocking and it fuels the anger in every crevice of your body as you glare at him. “Gonna hit me?”

Yes, you want to say - before you can even open your mouth, though, Harry leans in, teeth nibbling on your earlobe as he exhales, his words low and breathy, “Do it.”

Who are you to disobey him?

You bring your hand back and smack it down on his cheek with a satisfying slap that reverberates through your hotel room. His head is slapped to the side, exposing his side profile to you, and you smooth your palm over the red mark already blooming on his cheek in the shape of your handprint.

“You like to be hit, do you?” you inquire - for a moment, just a second, you feel some semblance of control over the situation, wrapping your fist around his cock once you’ve pulled his boxers down over his length. He hisses, dropping his head back, lips parted in a silent cry when your thumb sweeps over the weeping tip of his cock, precum dripping down his member. “Never would’ve guessed.”

And you do it again, bringing your hand up to slap his face and it tugs a louder grunt from his mouth, pressing his body further into yours until all you can feel is him, chests pressed together and cock rubbing against your cunt through the fabric of your lace panties. You bring your hand back to give him another slap but then his fingers are pulling your drenched knickers to the side, bulbous tip of his cock nudging through your folds for only a split second before he pushes himself inside of you, sheathing the entirety of his length until he bottoms out, balls pressed tight against your skin.

You can’t help but sob out. It’s, really, not your fault - you can tell how it spurs him on, but before he can keep fucking you like how you’ve dreamt of he’s pulling out completely, taking a half a step away from you, cock tall and leaking. The emptiness you feel is overwhelming, even if you’d only had him in you for a few seconds at best, and objections immediately rise in your throat.

“What the fu -?”

Then he’s grabbing your throat, using his grip as leverage to force you around, cheek smushed against the wooden door frame and back pressed to his chest. His palms smooth up and down the globes of your ass, pulling the cheeks apart until the pressure burns and you throw your head back with a cry. Then he pulls his hand back - lands it back against your ass with a cracking slap that makes you jump against him - and he doesn’t give you a second to beg him to fucking do it again before he’s sliding his cock back into your folds.

“Fuck,” he practically shouts, the noise crackling and broken with arousal practically dripping from the syllable, and you drop your forehead against the door with a cry. “Fuck, so tight - knew y’would be -”

“Move, please,” you beg, tone sobbing and desperate, and Harry obliges without another second to spare - pulls out and thrusts back in, pace brutal and desperate right off the bat until you’re quivering, legs trembling when he’s only been going for a half a minute.

Oh my god. Holy fuck, it feels so good, better than you could’ve ever pictured it, his hand smoothing over your ass before landing periodic slaps to the plump skin - his hand landing on you hardly overpowers the sound of his hips smacking against your ass, filling you until you’re crying for it before leaving you empty and diving back in. You can’t do much else other than stand there on quivering legs that feel incapable of handling your weight and take it, pushing your hips back into his with every thrust until you’ve worked yourselves into a rhythm that makes your fucking head spin.

“Harry -” you gasp as he grabs hold of your hips, pulling them upwards until his cock is slamming into the sweet spot buried inside of your walls that makes you sob out, cheek slamming into the door over and over with the force of his pounding. “Harry - God -”

“What?” he practically hisses, the word full of desire and contempt in the most delicious way possible, and your knees would give out if not for his bruising grip on your hips, keeping you flush against him. 

“Har - choke me, please, want you to - to choke me -”

He stutters a groan at that, moving one of his hands from your hips - he delivers one hard smack to your ass before he’s trailing his hand up your back and around to the front of your throat, squeezing your neck once experimentally just to hear the way you moan at it before he tightens his grasp. Your resulting whimper is caught in your throat, pressing your palms to the door you’re leant up against as Harry just fucking laughs from behind you, thrusting himself into you like he was fucking born for it.

“You’re fuckin’ filthy,” Harry says, then, and he almost sounds in awe as he squeezes your throat tighter, tight enough that your vision goes fuzzy and your head feels light. “So filthy - knew y’would be - an’ so - so - fuckin’ - tight -”

With every word he punctuates his meaning with a particularly hard thrust into your cunt, and the hand on your hip slithers around your body until he’s pressing two fingertips to your clit, rubbing shaking, hard circles against the sensitive nub that has you jolting, arms shaking as you attempt to keep yourself up. “Oh my god,” you practically cry, and the voice sounds far away as he briefly releases his hold on your throat - a firm slap is delivered to the side of your face as you’d given him, the motion forcing your head to the side, and you sob out harder. “Fuck - do it again, please -”

He obeys you, bringing his palm back to slap your cheek again before he wraps his hand back around your throat. “M’gonna cum,” he tells you, words throaty and laced with neediness - you push your hips back against his, a loud, long whine bursting from your throat as his fingers never give up on their assault to your clit. “M’gonna fill y’up - y’want that?”

“Yes!”

“Want me t’fill you up?”

“Yes, Harry, please -!” You come undone around his cock just as his hips stutter to a close - there’s a ball of pleasure that bursts in your core, spreading warmth and euphoria through your body like a wildfire attacks a forest. Your forehead slams against the door with a moan that borders on a scream, nails scratching against the wood as though searching for something to hold onto, to ground yourself, because surely you’re far away - in fucking space - because there’s no way on Earth you could feel this good.

Behind you, Harry’s hand on your clit wraps around your waist, holding your body taut to his as you feel him spurt ribbons of cum inside of you, his release filling you up and it only prolongs yours, aftershocks rolling through you mixed with his warmth spreading through your body. His head drops against the back of yours, breath ruffling the hairs at the back of your neck, and when you finally regain the ability to breathe you’re fucking heaving, gasping for air, the once-simple process labored and desperate.

“Fuck,” Harry groans, and then he pulls out of you - you can feel his cum beginning to trickle down your inner thighs, and that mixed with the sudden emptiness in your cunt makes you exhale a low whine. Your pussy flutters around the sudden air invading it, the loss of a certain appendage filling you up glaringly obvious, and you slump against the door. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, and your knees are shaking when Harry unwraps his arm from around your waist, leaving you to fend for yourself as you try and steady your body. “Fuck.”

You hear, then, Harry walking away - surely stalking deeper into your room, perhaps lying on the bed, kicking off his shoes and beginning to tug off his shirt. You feel sudden embarrassment and heat coursing through your body as you tug the bottom of your skirt down over your ass and the tops of your thighs, walking on shaking legs into the bedroom area of your hotel room -

(Your knife can stay in the door until morning. It is, for all intents and purposes, the least of your priorities when you can’t even think straight.)

Harry’s eyes are on you when you make your way into the bedroom section, leaning up against the doorframe to hide the quivering in your legs, and you hope it looks decently natural but you’re sure it doesn’t, judging by the way his lips tremble upwards as he glances down at the shoe he’s focused on untying.

“I’m gonna shower first,” you tell him. Your throat burns with the energy of speaking after screaming your lungs out and your voice is crackling and raspy - you cough into your elbow, hoping it makes your voice sound a bit less fucked-out than it is, but you’re sure you’re not that lucky.

“Fine by me,” Harry says, kicking his sneakers off onto the ground, and he collapses onto his back onto the bed with a sigh. His pants are still undone and are pushed down his thighs, boxers pulled up over his cock, and you feel - decidedly strange, watching him post-coital, at the way his eyes shut, limbs spreading out over the mattress with a grunt. “M’takin’ the bed, though.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “What -?”

“Y’can hardly walk from how hard I fucked you. I think I deserve it.”

And - well - you can’t quite argue with that logic.

~~

TAGLIST (crossed out urls meant they didn’t show up)

@nineteenfiftyone​ @harryslilkat​ @galacticferns​ @ficrecrry​ @morethanamelodyy​ @hoeeforstyles​ @bunny-munchkin-luvs-music​ @mintchipstyles​ @sstarkme​ @thecitiesintheseas @harry-styles-l​

[bbangsoonie]

11:11

member: changmin (q) genre: angst word count: 6,802 synopsis: when changmin finds himself trapped in the past, repeating the day of your death, he’s convinced that he’s been given a chance to save you. warning(s): death

Changmin woke up with a dreading feeling. He hadn’t set an alarm despite it being a weekday. He was hoping to sleep through the day and wake up the next morning. Unfortunately for him, the sleeping pills he took the night before only allowed him rest until noon.

He checked his phone, staring at the date. A year had officially passed by since that fateful day. Groaning, he threw his phone back onto his bed. He stayed under the blanket for a while, not wanting to get up. However, the sunlight shining through his window refused to let him go back to sleep.

Declaring defeat, he sat up and scowled at the sun. It was annoyingly bright today. The weather had no regard for his mood and was unusually warm for a winter day. It pissed him off.

He heard his phone vibrate and chose to ignore what he guessed was Chanhee’s daily check in. Still not fully awake, Changmin walked towards his fridge to grab a cold water bottle. After gulping half of it down, he let out a sigh.

His brain was still at war with himself. Half of it felt obligated to visit you and half of it wanted to drown his feelings in alcohol. He stood there, zoning out, contemplating his options.

Eventually, his guilt triumphed and he found himself throwing on whatever clean clothes he could find. He trudged out of his apartment and down the stairs. On his way to the main road to find a taxi, he passed by a flower shop. The same sense of obligation from earlier made him backtrack and step inside.

It had been over a year since he last visited the place. It felt strange to be back. The emotions he came here with were entirely different from the emotions he had back then.

He asked the worker for a small bouquet of daisies and muttered a word of thanks after receiving his change. After flagging down a taxi, he braced himself for the long ride.

The car escaped from the noisy city and headed towards a more remote area. He almost laughed, remembering how often you would mention that you wanted to be buried in nature and not locked up in a jar behind glass. He used to always chide you for thinking of and planning for your death but in the end, you had been the insightful one. He never thought he’d be traveling to your grave—at least not while he was still in his twenties.

When he finally arrived, his feet rooted itself and he couldn’t bear to walk further. He hadn’t been here since your burial a year ago. A wave of embarrassment suddenly hit him. He truly was an asshole to you until the end. He couldn’t even make things up to you even after your passing.

He hadn’t made any efforts to visit you but it was painfully obvious to those around him that he was still grieving. He blamed himself for letting you die. That burden prevented him from continuing to live life without you. His friends watched as he willingly ruined his own life. He gave up dance and even came to resent music. He spent the past year surviving and not living; he filled his time with part time jobs that would earn him the money he needed for rent and food.

In Changmin’s mind, he didn’t deserve to be happy when your life was cut short. He wished so badly that he could trade places with you.

With another sigh, he made his way towards your grave. He could tell your family stopped by earlier that morning. Someone had left a big bouquet of pink flowers for you. Beside it was a photo of you smiling, oblivious to the tragedy that would occur just a few months after it was taken.

He forced a smile, recalling how you used to complain about how everyone would bring you pink flowers instead of daisies for every occasion. Daisies were your favorite flower and Changmin was the only one who ever remembered.

He placed his own bouquet down and sat next to it. Holding up your photo, he spoke to it as if you would reply.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it, Y/n?” he attempted to say in a cheery voice. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back. I… I was afraid. Seeing you like this really makes reality hit as if waking up in an empty bed isn’t a strong enough reminder.”

He set the picture down and turned around to face your headstone. Hesitantly, he wiped at a spot and fell into silence. 

“Everyone tells me that the accident wasn’t my fault. I don’t believe it but even if it was true, I still hate myself for letting you leave when the last words I said to you weren’t that I love you. Not only did you die a painful death, but you died with the hurt I inflicted on your heart,” his voice cracked as he choked back tears.

Flashbacks of that day flooded his memory. He winced, finally confronting what he couldn’t for a year.

Changmin had left the dance studio angry. Angry at himself. Angry at his inability to perfect the choreography. Unlucky timing had you outside waiting for him to finish. He had planned on blowing off some steam by meeting Sunwoo for drinks but was stopped by you. You had noticed how upset he was and wanted to cheer him up but was brushed off.

Changmin knew he was snappy when he was pissed and didn’t want you to be on the receiving end. He wanted to spare you from walking on eggshells around him and knew that Sunwoo would quietly let him rant without getting hurt by his actions or words. Instead of clarifying, however, he let you misunderstand and walked away.

You watched him leave, staring at his back. The past month with him had been rocky. You knew he was stressed from preparing for the upcoming competition but you still missed the bubbly Changmin. Nowadays, he was more sensitive and on edge than happy and affectionate.

You had bought matching couple rings in hopes of brightening up his mood. They were simple rings made of silver and meant for the pinky finger. It was to symbolize your promises to each other—to always love and appreciate each other. Yours was already on your pinky but his was left in the box you were hiding in your pocket. You sighed and figured that you’d get the chance to give it to him later.

Except that chance never came. Changmin only came across that ring later when he found it on his table back at his place.

“You know, I left you knowing you probably thought I was irritated with you too. It was because I assumed I’d get to clear that up later. Like always. But later never came,” he fidgeted with the ring that now never left his own pinky.

What a cruel way to teach him a lesson.

“I guess at one point, I started taking you for granted. Taking our time together for granted. Who would've known that death would literally do us part before we even made our vows?” he chuckled at the irony. “I never told you but I intended on proposing to you as soon as we graduated. I got ahead of myself and was planning things way in advance. Would you believe me if I said I already decided where to go for our honeymoon?”

He could almost hear you laugh. If you were next to him, you’d lean on his shoulder as you doubled over in laughter. You had loved and teased him for his sweet side.

“That’s how sure I was that we’d get forever together. You spent the rest of your life with me but now I have the rest of my life ahead of me without you. A little unfair, don’t you think?”

Changmin had so many regrets. He wanted nothing but to go back in time and re-do things. After bottling everything inside him for a full year, everything was spilling out now that he was there with you.

You and Changmin hadn’t moved in together but you often slept over. That day, you waited until night for him to come home. He never did.

Sunwoo had called you from the restaurant they were at, asking you to come pick Changmin up. He wasn’t completely wasted but he was definitely too drunk to go home by himself. Sunwoo apologized, saying he couldn’t take him home because he had a prior arrangement to attend.

So you ended up sitting across from your boyfriend, waiting for him to sober up a little more before leaving the restaurant. This was not how you thought you would spend your anniversary with him. When he stormed off from the dance studio after spending the whole day there, you had already presumed he forgot what day it was for you two. You tried to be understanding, knowing that he felt extreme pressure about the competition.

You didn’t expect any gifts but you had hoped that you would at least have dinner together. But now that was also out of the window. You suppressed your annoyance and reminded yourself of how happy Changmin was when he was dancing. You wanted to be supportive of him.

“Why did you come here?” Changmin asked. Something about his tone irked you.

“What?” you frowned.

“I’m a fully grown man who can find his way back home fine,” his words dug a knife into your heart. You wondered if he forgot that you were the reason why he made it home safe and sound after drinking.

“You should be thankful that I always take care of your drunk ass,” you huffed. “You know, you can’t just count on me to do all these things for you. I do it because I want to but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to be appreciated.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he sighed.

You hated that look on his face. He had that look often nowadays. That tired look that screamed that he was too tired to even argue with you. It scared you. Even arguing took interest that he didn’t seem to give you these days. You would rather fight with him than live in such silence.

So you did. You exploded at him.

“No, Changmin, I don’t know. I never know what you’re thinking anymore. You don’t tell me anything and just assume that I can read your mind. And it feels like I’m expected to play the role of your girlfriend when you don’t even act like my boyfriend. You need to take a step back and realize how grateful we should be towards each other.”

After your outburst, you waited for his response. You waited for him to either yell back or apologize. Anything to show that he still cared. Instead, he said something that made you wish that he just didn’t say anything at all.

“Why are you being like this today?”

You felt the knife dig deeper into your heart and his words stunned you into silence.

“You’ve changed,” you whispered.

And with that, you got up and left. Realizing he screwed up, Changmin ran out to chase you. It had gotten late and dark while he was inside and the sky was now pouring buckets. Without an umbrella, you were getting hit by the rain that hid the tears wetting your cheeks. When he finally caught up to you, he grabbed onto your wrist and spun you around to face him.

“You asked why I’m being like this? Today? Well, news flash, Changmin. Today’s our third year anniversary but I guess I’m the only one who cared to remember,” you cried.

His heart shattered at the sight of your face. He never meant to upset you. And he certainly didn’t mean to forget your anniversary. It had slipped his mind while he was focused on practicing. All that seemed futile when he saw the pain on your face.

You didn’t give him a chance to reply and shook his grip off of you. Wanting to avoid him, you ran to cross the street before the light turned red. At that moment, however, a car failed to break in time and the rain caused the driver to lose control.

Changmin’s eyes widened as he watched the vehicle crash into you. The noise was terrifying but seeing your body fly in the air and fall to the ground was even more horrifying. His legs moved before his brain processed the scene he just witnessed. He ran to your side and tried to shake you awake. His hand trembled when he saw that it was bloodied by the wound on your head.

The driver came out of the car, feeling both disbelief and guilt about what just happened. Changmin screamed at him to call the ambulance before returning his attention back to you. He begged you to stay alive but you took your last breath that night at 11:11.

After Changmin came back to Seoul, Chanhee caught him outside of his apartment and dragged him to dinner. He knew that his friend would be mourning all day and not remember to eat. So they went to a nearby restaurant and he practically had to shove the soup into his mouth.

By the time Changmin arrived home, it was late. He washed up and plopped onto his bed, wishing the day would hurry up and come to an end. Staring at the ceiling, he waited for sleep to take him out of his misery for a while. Eventually, his fatigue took over and he fell asleep the second the clock turned to 11:11.

When he awoke, he didn’t feel as groggy as he normally did. He felt strangely well rested. Wondering how long he had slept for, he checked his phone for the time. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion when he saw the date. It was yesterday’s date but with the previous year. He figured it was a cruel glitch on the device’s part and threw it back down.

He got up to get ready for his shift and fumbled around to look for the sneakers he just recently purchased. No matter how hard he looked, it was nowhere to be found. He found it odd but settled for an old pair of sneakers he hadn’t worn in a while.

After he put them on, he turned the doorknob to leave. He swung the door open and was shocked at the sight in front of him. You were standing there, holding a bag of groceries. Just like you did a year ago.

“Uh Changmin?” you stared at him, waiting for him to move so you could walk in.

Changmin was speechless. His brain felt like it stopped functioning; he didn’t know how to react to the familiar scene in front of him.

“Is this a dream?” he asked out loud.

His heart was racing. You hadn’t shown up in his dreams in so long. Now that you appeared to him, there were so many things he wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t mean to hurt you. That he was sorry. But in that moment, all he could manage to do was pull you in for a hug.

“Is something wrong, baby?” you asked.

“Everything. N-nothing,” he stuttered.

Was he supposed to talk to you about everything that happened? Was he supposed to just enjoy reliving this day? He couldn’t decide.

You chuckled at the peculiarity of your boyfriend, finding him endearing. You motioned for him to move over and let you in, which he complied while still in a daze. You placed the groceries on the table and began to put away what needed to be refrigerated.

“Are you going to the studio to practice today as well?” you asked, opening a small carton of milk for your boyfriend.

He slowly took the drink you handed him and nodded. He then shook his head, not wanting to repeat his mistakes.

“Today’s our anniversary. We should do something special,” he suggested.

You lit up, excited to go on a date with him. You were glad you chose to dress up today.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked.

“Hmm how about that art gallery you’ve been wanting to go to?” he smiled at your happy expression. “I haven’t had lunch yet so we can eat some pasta before we go.”

So you two headed out to your favorite Italian restaurant and he ordered a bunch of dishes. You had protested, insisting that you wouldn’t be able to finish but he insisted that he wanted to spoil you that day.

He felt like he was on cloud nine as he watched you enjoy your meal. He missed this. He missed seeing you wiggle in your seat because of how good the food was. He missed cutting your steak for you because you were clumsy with knives. He hoped the dream wouldn’t end any time soon.

Noticing that he wasn’t eating much, you picked up a slice of pizza and held it in front of his mouth. His cheeks filled up after he took a bite and you laughed at how cute he looked. Your laughter prompted him to laugh as well, showing off his dimples that you loved.

You left the restaurant stuffed and was ready to fall into a food coma. Yet you couldn’t refuse when Changmin bought you your favorite ice cream. You strongly believed that people had a second stomach for dessert. You walked with the ice cream in one hand and with Changmin’s hand in the other. You stuck closer to him and leaned your head on his shoulder. He turned to look at you and didn’t want to ever look away.

After spending a couple of hours at the art gallery, you found an arcade and tugged him inside. You bet on dinner over three rounds of a vintage game, which you won. You cheered when your victory flashed across the screen, making him chuckle. To be honest, he let you win by pretending to slip up at the end but seeing your joy was worth it.

To Changmin’s discomfort, you chose the samgyupsal place that you two had fought at. Of course, you didn’t know that and just wanted to spend the night eating meat and drinking beer. Although hesitant, he agreed to your menu selection.

Changmin was indescribably elated to be able to sit and chat with you for hours. He didn’t even notice the rainstorm that began once again outside. He was too busy listening to you talk about one of your assignments for a random elective class you took but ended up liking. You rambled on about how your professor was extremely kind and lenient with grading.

By the end of the night, you two left the restaurant and he grew anxious, anticipating the end of the dream. You took notice of his sudden change in demeanor and questioned him about it. Before you could hear an answer, however, your hat was snatched and taken away by the wind. Not wanting it to get wet and dirty, you chased after it.

It all happened so fast. Again. Just as you were about to catch the hat, it blew further away, causing you to step out into the road. And again, there was nothing Changmin could do about the car that crashed into you.

This time, Changmin woke up with the feeling of falling from a tall height. The sensation startled him awake and he jumped up gasping. He scanned his surroundings, unsure of what he just experienced.

“A blissful dream turned into yet another nightmare,” he groaned.

He paused, reaching out for his phone to check the date. Both his jaw and phone dropped at the repeated date.

“No way,” he muttered. He shook his head, refusing to believe what was happening. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

He racked his brain for any plausible explanations. Surely this was another dream. A dream within a dream. Or maybe he’d finally lost it and was hallucinating everything. Believing in the latter, he made up his mind to finally go to the therapist Chanhee had been bugging him to go to. He quickly got dressed and put his shoes to head out. He paused when his hand grabbed the door.

“Surely it won’t happen again… right?” he wondered out loud.

To his surprise, you were there again on the other side of the door when he opened it. Trying to figure out what was going on, he slammed the door shut and froze. Outside, you blinked at the door in your face. Puzzled at your boyfriend’s behavior, you knocked.

Inside, Changmin flinched at the sudden noise. He was bewildered and beyond confused. This had to be a joke. Or a dream. Or a hallucination. How could you be real? There was no way you were actually back.

Or maybe, it was his chance to set things right. Maybe, if he did everything right, he could prevent your death. The idea sounded ingenious and insane to him. Taking a leap of faith, he flung the door back open and gazed at you. Still skeptical, he extended his hand out to hold yours. It felt warm, unlike the last time he held it in the rain. He wanted to cry in both shock and joy. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat and took the groceries from you.

“Are you okay, baby?” you asked, following him inside.

“I’m okay as long as you’re with me,” he said in a shaky voice.

You chuckled as you began to organize the groceries just like you did the day before.

“Are you going to the studio to practice today as well?” you asked, opening a small carton of milk.

Changmin stared at the milk you offered again. So many thoughts ran through his head as he tried to understand the situation. He determined that this was a blessing. He was given an opportunity to go back in time and change things. To save you.

“Let’s go watch a movie today,” he said.

He thought out and planned the rest of the day. He would sneak out in the middle of the movie to go buy a present for you. Using the excuse of an upset stomach, he went and bought a necklace he had been eyeing for months. It was quite expensive so he had saved up little by little and now he could finally afford to give it to you.

With the corner of his eye, he saw a couple looking at the ring section together. As if caught in a trance, he found himself walking towards the engagement rings. He gaped at the endless options of diamonds that sparkled as bright as your eyes. He bit his lip, contemplating if he should buy a ring as well. He initially wanted to wait until you both graduated but graduation never came for you. It was one of the biggest regrets of his life.

So he carefully took a look at the rows of rings until he saw one that immediately felt like it was meant for you. He quickly asked the worker to help him with his purchase and ran back into the theater to finish the rest of the movie with you.

You didn’t suspect a thing until he took the necklace out after lunch and put it on for you. You beamed at the surprise gift, eager to show him yours. Shyly, you retrieved the couple ring from your purse.

“It’s a promise ring meant for your pinky,” you explained as you slid it onto his finger. “A promise to always love and appreciate each other.”

He smiled at how proud you looked.

“See?” you showed him the ring on your own pinky.

“I love it,” he held his hand next to yours, admiring the view. “But uh I actually have a ring for you as well.”

With his heart pounding, he pulled out the square box and stood up. He took a deep breath before getting down on one knee, making you gasp. You felt tears brimming your eyes as he opened the box to reveal the diamond ring.

Watching proposal videos had always made you cringe. You didn’t get why people would cry. But in that moment, it all made sense when you found yourself unable to verbally reply. As a college student, you never expected him to propose. Sure, you had thought of marrying him but that seemed like such a faraway idea. You knew Changmin would always be in your future and didn’t see yourself marrying anyone else but him. So you managed to nod before he placed the ring on your finger.

“I know the timing may seem premature but with you, I want to have the courage to do what my heart desires. I want to see you walk down the aisle towards me. I want to show the world that I’m yours. I want to spend our honeymoon at Bora Bora and have two kids together. I want to raise a dog with you, just like you always dreamed of. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he confessed.

After hearing his words, you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore. He embraced you in his arms and you buried your face into his chest as you sniffled. Resting his chin on your head, he wished time would stop. All he wanted was to stay in this moment forever.

By the time night approached again, he made sure to keep you away from the street and from any vehicles. You wondered why he was being so overprotective and clinging onto you. He didn’t offer an explanation and just gave you a nervous smile.

Looking at his watch, he let out a deep breath when he saw that it was almost 11 PM. His leg shook anxiously as he held your hand tighter. You had insisted on enjoying the sounds of the city in the rain so you two were sitting at a random bus stop.

All of a sudden, the cry of a child was heard. You turned around to see a little girl who seemed to be lost. You stood up to go help but Changmin sat you back down.

“You stay here. I’ll go,” he said, feeling uneasy.

While he brought the little girl to the bus stop to avoid the rain, a young boy caught your attention. He was playing with a ball and you wanted to warn him to be careful. Before you could open your mouth, however, he dropped the ball and ran into the street to get it back. You panicked, seeing a motorcycle speeding towards the kid.

You ran out to pull the child back but was hit instead. Changmin’s heart dropped at the sound of the collision. When he turned back to find you, you were laying on the wet ground with blood pooling around you. Seeing you die for the third time wasn’t any less traumatic. In fact, it broke him even more. He hated himself for letting it happen again.

“Y/n, please please wake up,” he begged as he held your face in his hands. “You can’t leave me. Not again. I promised myself that I would change your fate. Y/n, please!”

Every time Changmin woke up, that day repeated itself. And each time, he would try to keep you alive. But no matter how hard he tried, that cursed time of 11:11 always ended his brief time with you with the same outcome.

When he kept you inside, you fell down the stairs. When he tried to make you sleep by tucking you in early, you never woke up. Thinking it was Seoul that was the problem, he even took you down to Busan. Paranoid, he even spent the whole day and night with you at his place. But every time the clock hit 11:11, the inevitable would occur and he would wake up to repeat it once again.

The seventh time he awoke to the same day, he screamed in frustration.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” he yelled out.

He cried into his sleeves, wondering if this was his punishment for being unable to save you. While he wallowed in grief, he heard you knock on his door. He wiped away his tears and got up to greet you. Oblivious to his mood, you walked in and opened the refrigerator like you did the previous times.

“Are you going to the studio to practice today as well?” you asked, opening a small carton of milk.

“Let’s just stay in today. I’ll cook you something,” he bitterly smiled when he saw that the engagement ring was no longer on your finger.

He rummaged through his kitchen, looking for ingredients. You sat down next to the counter and watched as he made you kimchi fried rice. You enjoyed watching him cook. He didn’t do it often because he wasn’t very confident about his skills but you loved the gesture. You thought it was cute when he had that concentrated look he usually saved for dancing.

After lunch, you spent the next few hours watching movies. You had eventually noticed how sad he was. You looked over at your boyfriend who seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts. Mustering up some bravery, you proposed watching a horror movie. You knew it was his favorite genre but didn’t watch scary movies with him often because you got scared easily. Slightly surprised by your suggestion, he agreed and let you choose one of the recommended movies on Netflix.

At every jump scare, you snuggled closer to him. Throughout the whole film, you clung onto his arm and he comforted you by stroking your head. Treasuring the time he got to spend with you, he allowed himself to feel at ease for a bit.

For dinner, you convinced him to go out to eat. On the way back, he lured you into a gift shop, kicking himself for not preparing a present ahead of time. While you were busy looking at the dolls, he managed to pick out a bracelet and slid it into his pocket after secretly paying for it. He knew it would be gone when the day reset and dreaded having to see your listless body again later.

When you two returned back to his place, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He wanted to savor every second he was able to spend with you. Noticing his gaze, you stared at him back, bringing a smile to his face. You poked his dimple, laughing at his expression.

“So I got you a little something. I hope you didn’t think that I forgot our anniversary,” he said as he put it on your wrist.

Smiling, you took out the gift you had prepared.

“It’s a promise ring meant for your pinky,” you said as you slid the ring onto his finger. “A promise to always love and appreciate each other.”

“See?” you revealed the ring on your own finger.

After hearing those words for the nth time, he finally broke down. He began to bawl, catching you off guard. For a few minutes, he wept as you tried to soothe him.

“Okay, spill. What’s been bothering you all day, Changmin?” you demanded.

He sighed, knowing what he was about to say was insane. He didn’t want to scare you but it all came out as word vomit.

“I’ve been reliving this day multiple times. I know it sounds crazy—it is crazy—but I was sent back in time. It’s actually supposed to be a year from now, a day after today. But instead, I’m stuck in this endless loop trying to save you. You died, Y/n. You died a year ago and you keep dying again and again! I thought I was given this opportunity because of all the regrets I had. The day you died, I was a complete jerk and you got into an accident after we argued. I blamed and resented myself. I had so many “what if’s” and “if only’s” that it tormented me,” he paused to catch his breath.

“I thought I had to repeat this day until I successfully prevented your death but nothing’s working. I can’t change things!” he cried. “I’ve tried over and over and over again. I’ve tried keeping you away from the street, taking you out of the city, and even locking us up in this damn apartment and nothing’s working! Every time 11:11 comes around, the same conclusion happens.”

You sat in silence, unsure of how to process all the information he just threw at you. He was way too emotional for this to be a joke and too upset for it to be unreal. But at the same time, you wanted it to be fake. You didn’t want to believe it. You were still so young. You had hopes and dreams you had yet to achieve. You wanted to crumble but you couldn’t bear to do so after seeing how heartbroken Changmin was. After thinking for some time, you finally spoke up.

“Maybe you were given a chance not to save me but to let me go,” you said quietly. ”You said you regretted the day I died. Maybe this is your chance to get closure. Send me off in peace. Find peace yourself.”

“No. No way. I’m not letting you leave me again. Not after all I’ve been through,” he said, desperately hugging you. “I finally get to hold you in my arms again. It’s okay if I have to relive this day forever. As long as I can see you, I’m okay with that.”

“Changmin...” your heart broke at the sight of his crestfallen face.

You let him keep his tight hold on you. He was so afraid you’d disappear again that he refused to let you or himself fall asleep. You looked at the clock and saw that the time was approaching.

“Baby, you know you can’t. I’m not coming back to life. I can’t. That’s not how the world works. We were blessed to have the chance to say our final goodbyes. Not everyone gets that. We’re lucky. We get to remind each other of how much we love each other and I get to tell you that I want you to be happy even if I’m not by your side. I’ll still be with you. In your heart. As long as you keep me there,” you pulled away to meet his eyes. “I don’t want you to be miserable without me. I want you to live your life to the fullest. Let me live vicariously through you.”

“But I have so many things I want to do with you. So many things I never got to say to you,” he stammered.

“Nobody gets to fulfill all their desires,” you smiled sadly. “Just know that I know how you feel. I know that you love me. I know that you want to grow old together. I know that you want to see mini me and mini you. I do too. I’m so sorry I won't be able to do that with you.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks. Admitting it out loud made it feel real.

“You have no idea how badly I want to walk down that aisle with you. I want to live happily ever after while bickering with you. I want to see you dance and I want to succeed in my own career. I hardly lived over two decades but you made me so happy for most of it. I’m glad I got to love you. It’s a shame I won’t get to get my degree after studying so hard but there are bigger regrets. Like wishing I had spent more time with you. Wishing we took more trips together.”

Changmin looked at you with a pained expression. He wished that he had taken more pictures with you. That he had gone on more dates with you. That he made you laugh more.

“I guess we were given this opportunity in exchange for all of that. At least now I’ll get to leave knowing that I’m loved and that you know I love you. Our last day wasn’t spent arguing but hugging,” you pointed out.

The two of you lain wordlessly on his bed. The only sound was the clock on his wall ticking.

“Can you tell my family that I love them? And my friends too. I wish I could say goodbye to everyone but that would be greedy of me,” you said wistfully.

At his silence, you turned to look at him. When you saw the guilt on face, you sat up and beckoned for him to do the same. You glanced at the clock, taking note of the time.

“Ji Changmin, I love you. Thank you for making me the happiest girl in the world,” you smiled with tears in your eyes. “While we make promises with this ring, can you also promise me another thing?”

You waited for him to nod before continuing.

“Promise me that you won’t blame yourself for anything and that you’ll move on. I want you to have all the extra happiness I’ll miss out on. I’ll be expecting you to lead a fruitful life for my sake too,” you held out your pinky, waiting for him to wrap his around yours.

“It’s okay if I start to fade out of your memory over the years,” you added. “I’ll understand when my face starts to become fuzzy to you. I’ll even understand when you get married and have kids. I’ll be your kids’ godmother and look out for them. I can’t wait to see little baby Ji’s.”

“But I don’t want that if it’s not with you…” he whispered.

“Don’t be silly. You’re still young and have the rest of your life ahead of you. I’ll be mad if I’m the one that’s holding you back. Now, hurry up and promise me. My arm’s hurting,” you shook your pinky at him, urging him to lock fingers together.

It tore him apart but he shakily held out his hand to make his promise. More tears escaped his eyes each time he blinked.

11:05.

Changmin held your tear-stained cheeks in his hands, staring into your eyes. You hated the sad look in his own eyes but knew yours was the same. He hated the ominous feeling that predicted that this would be his last time in the loop. Now that he came to terms with the fixed ending, he would be freed from his desperate desire for a different outcome.

“Thank you, Y/n, for teaching me what love is. From when I first met you up until now, there hasn’t been a single moment that I didn’t cherish. I love you. I love you so so much. I spent the past year unable to forget you and I never will. I’m going to believe that you’ll be watching over me and I’m going to make you proud. I’m going to experience both my and your share of happiness. So don’t worry about me. I won’t be able to follow you soon but I’ll join you up there one day. Please wait for me.”

“I may be your first love but I certainly don’t hope I’ll be your last. Instead, I hope that I’ll be your endless love,” you hummed, feeling drowsy.

“Of course,” he affirmed. “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too, Changmin.”

Changmin awoke feeling oddly comforted. The sun was shining through the window again and his apartment didn’t feel as empty for some reason. He eyed his phone and hesitantly picked it up. He was filled with mixed emotions when he saw that the year was finally set back to the present.

Out of habit from the past week, his eyes lingered on the door. You weren’t going to come knocking again but you also weren’t going to die again. You were finally sent off in peace.

His phone vibrated, notifying him of Chanhee’s daily text message. Chanhee was a persistent one as well.

Changmin decided to reply and asked him to grab breakfast together, which earned him an immediate “yes”. He told his friend to invite Sunwoo as well and got up to get ready for an outing for the first time in a long time. This was his first step in the healing process.

a/n: tbh i kinda cried writing this. i hope you cried too hehe also idk if you noticed but the line “endless love” is actually from the boyz’s “priority”. i really like that phrase and it’s been stuck in my head ever since the song came out

[novawrights]

When Home Finds You

Plot- Reader remembers a darker time in her life before coming to Lady Dimitrescu's castle, Lady Dimitrescu shows her the home she's been searching for.

TRIGGER WARNING FOR PAST SELF HARM/DEPRESSION.

I sat in the library looking at the calendar on the wall. You would think a timeless vampire wouldn't need one but from what her daughters said, it was a recent thing when you had arrived a few months ago because they hadn't seen one before. So you took advantage of keeping track of each important date. Birthdays, special things they celebrated or treasured, even your birthday, all written in with flowing cursive writing. But one specific day was just a dot. They all shrugged when they saw it thinking it meant nothing but to you, it meant everything. My thumb subconsciously stroked my upper left thigh where thin scars crisscrossed across the fair skin. Most of my life I have felt alone, an apartment in the States that only held the essentials like clothes; basically a place to eat and sleep while I went to my job as a waitress and came home with no one to tell my day to, gossip with or have girls or friends nights. Early on I drifted apart from friends and the moment my so called accepting  family figured out I was were more into women they swiftly and cruelly disowned me. That's when I became best friends with a silver razor blade. Four years of cutting any piece of skin that could be hidden, becoming an expert in covering and tending to wounds, but three years ago, I forced myself to stop. I was then pulled from my thoughts when the big, oak doors opened and revealed Lady Dimitrescu. Or as I somehow got away with calling her, Alcina. Neither of you knew how it started or why she let's it be when the first moment a maid says it, her golden eyes flash with the fury of lightening in a thunderstorm.

"What are you doing in here all by your lonesome?" She asked, voice laced with concern that her eyes mirrored. I shrugged not taking my eyes off the calendar with today's date being the anniversary when you stopped cutting.

"Thinking about how I got here." I murmured. It wasn't a lie. Had I been left to my thoughts any longer I would have eventually made it to the day I showed up on her doorstep soaking wet and damn near hypothermic. She hummed as she sat in the chair next to me and placed a tray with two tea cups on it. Probably the one drink I had ever seen her drink without any blood in it.

"A strange day indeed. My daughter's usually devour any intruders immediately but for some reason they were definitely part of the argument to keep you alive." Her voice smooth with agreement with a hint of a smile and I chuckled in response.

"Oh yeah?" I teased as I looked over in her direction. While she was this tall, incredible and powerful woman, the soft spot she only had for her daughters, now extended to me. She met my gaze, golden irises meeting my steel gray with the softness only so few saw.

"I'm not one to believe in fate. I've lived far too long to really give it credit should anything good, or bad, come my way. But you took that belief and stomped all over it." She sighed as she turned her gaze into the fire I had long forgotten I lit. "Now I know I promised to give you privacy with your thoughts, but something is bothering you enough I can feel the storm cloud from my chambers across the castle." I sighed knowing she wasn't going to let this go. It was weird she had offered me who ended up agreeing to be a maid, privacy. Especially so soon.

"Several years ago things kind of fell apart. Family disowned me and friends drifted apart so I was literally coming home to an empty apartment every day after work." I started as I took the teacup from her hand and took a sip, letting the apple cinnamon flavor warm me. I could feel her eyes fall on me as she mirrored my action with her own tea. "When you get lonely, you don't always have the best coping mechanisms. Mine, was self destructive. Easy to conceal and no one would know since I never wore shorts or went out to the beach or wore dresses when I went to a club." I snorted before taking another sip. "Extremely glad I hadn't known you or the girls then." I added as a whisper as I turned my gaze to her. Her eyes darted across my face as if she was trying find the answer without me saying it. It was only until her eyes widened a moment later that I knew she figured it out. "You would have eaten me alive." She coughed. Not the best time to throw a suggestive joke like that but the line we danced across between attraction and a degree of softness reserved for lovers, was always front and center of my mind.

"We would have." She agreed softly. I looked at the calendar and gestured with my chin.

"That dot next to today's date, is the day I forced myself not to cut myself anymore. The day I threw out my razor blades."

"How long?"

"Three years self harm free." She didn't say anything and I heard the rustle of her white dress as she moved. I felt a twinge of fear squeeze my heart. Would she kick me out? Mock me? Strip me of my clothes and humiliate me that I wasn't strong enough? But to my surprise, a black glove and white sleeve entered my peripheral vision. I looked up and blinked away the tears that I hadn't realize were popping up.

"Come, my dear." She whispered. I wiped my eyes and took her hand as she led me from the library. It didn't take me long to realize she was leading me to her chambers.

"Al..." I murmured. She sent me a small smile as she opened the doors to her room, before leading me to the room where her bath was held. It always reminded me of a in ground pool for how big it was but also since it was indeed, in the ground surrounded by black tile.

"Get in." She gestured. I looked and saw it was already filled, the room smelled of lavender and the water still warm by the steam rising from it. I was thankful she turned away so I could have some modesty left since this was a boundary we hadn't come close to breaching. I stepped into the water and nearly moaned at the warm feel of it on my skin. When I got completely in I sat on the little ledge as she walked towards it.

"Tonight is about you. Because not only am I glad you had some impulse to travel, and travel here of all places and your car to break down in the middle of a storm, I'm also glad you've gotten over whatever life has thrown you. Even if there were a couple roadblocks in the way." I nearly teared up as she knelt on the tile and grabbed a purple bottle. She tapped my head as a non verbal cue to wet my hair, which I complied with, before resurfacing where my head my her hands with shampoo already lathered and ready to be coaxed into my brown hair. My eyes fluttered shut and a moan escaped me as I let myself relax and surrender to her fingers. Even when I felt like it was enough, she kept going.

"Times like this I wish I had my music. Even if you guy don't have electronics, most of my bands do vinyls still so a turntable would work." I sighed.

"I'll see what I can do, my sweet." The pet names were becoming more frequent these days, not that I was complaining. Another tap a few moments later for me to rinse out my hair of the sweet smelling shampoo and I couldn't help but enjoy the domestic intimacy between us. After rinsing my hair and feeling more relaxed than I had that day, I felt like my head was a little clearer and the storm cloud had gone away. She reached around and stroked my cheek.

"Dry off and meet me in my room." She whispered. I blinked as she practically glided out of the room before standing. I took one of the big fluffy towels she used and towel dried my hair as much as I could, and dried my body off. I noticed a pair of my old running shorts and a tank top waiting for me to change into. I ignored the blush creeping up my neck seeing a pair of underwear laying with it.

After changing I walked out of the room to see her in front of her fireplace with a silver goblet with her blood laced wine with another with plain red wine that I liked. I took a seat on the sinfully comfortable, crimson red couch next to her.

"I've felt this draw to you since you arrived. It's why the tasks I gave you kept you closer to me and report to me instead of anyone else. It's why I've done so much more for you as a maid compared to everyone else that has walked through these halls." She started. "If my instincts are correct, you feel the same or follow the same trail of thouught." Lady Alcina, the one who seems impossible to fluster or look unsure, cast this vulnerable air around her; and it surprised me. I swallowed knowing there was no way out of this conversation.

"I-I-I do." I stammered. I looked up at her and met teary eyes filled with love, adoration, compassion and genuine happiness.

"Fate does seem to come into play sometimes." She murmured before she leaned in where her wine red lips met mine. I'm not one to use cheesy movie clichés, but this kiss felt like I was home and complete in a way I thought was just a cruel joke for me. I felt her hand softly touch my thigh where the spandex had ridden up and a few scars where revealed. Pale lines that were almost invisible gleamed in the fire light. When she pulled away from the gentle kiss, her eyes flickered toward them, almost as if she knew my panicked trail of thought was going.

"You are so beautiful, my love. No scar, bruise, wound or anything will ever make me think otherwise." She assured me as her thumb caressed them much like mine had done just a while ago.

"But most of all," she continued, "You're home.

With me and my daughters. " I hadn't realized how much her words would mean to me until I felt tears falling in rapid succession that she brushed them away before pulling me towards her chest. There was one thing I had been hoping to find and I found it in the arms of Lady Alcina.

[omniscientwreck]

Day 7: Bread & Soup // Creation

Here we are! Finally finished Day 7! I’ve never completed anything like this before so I hope you’ve enjoyed this journey with me! Thanks to the folks who organized @shadowgastweek and I’ve loved seeing everyone’s contributions. Here’s hoping this Thursday is a good one for our boys <3 

As always please let me know what you think, this is unedited so proceed with caution, and stay tuned for the college AU I’ve been working on. 

Day 7: Bread & Soup // Creation

Essek knows that, providing he says yes, the moment the Nein find out they are engaged all hell will break loose.

Essek knows that, providing Caleb says yes, the moment the Nein find out they are engaged all hell will break loose. He’s not a particularly conventional or traditional man and a few short years ago he would have never paid mind to the idea of getting married one day.

Things have changed, he’s changed quite significantly. Every day he spends with the copper haired wizard who calls him sweetheart and angel the more convinced he is that they should never be apart.

If simply having the Nein for friends had changed him, loving someone and being loved in return had made him a new person. The simplicity of having someone to come home to, someone to make noise in his previously empty tower. With the relinquishing of much of the privilege of the Thelyss name, they’d taken up residence in a less auspicious district of the firmaments, outside of the gated community in which he’d been raised.

It felt good to be closer to his friends, a few streets down from the Xorhaus, and it felt good to build a home with someone. Caleb hadn’t moved in immediately of course, it took a year or so before they progressed enough in their relationship to feel comfortable sharing a life. That doesn’t mean Caleb’s tastes hadn’t influenced Essek’s decisions, and when he moved in they continued adjusting and changing until they both felt they belonged there.

He asked Caleb to marry him on the anniversary of their first date. After defeating Lucien they’d gone back to Aeor and studied and after a while the tension built. There were small touches, lingering glances, at first Essek attributed this to how Caleb treated his other friends. But as time passed eventually they would reach for each other’s hands, if there was a breakthrough Caleb would press their foreheads together and hold his face and the closeness was intoxicating.

They would have discussions late into the night, discovering and learning. They told stories of their pasts and eventually Essek opened up to Caleb completely, there was not a secret of his the wizard hadn’t heard and Caleb returned the trust in kind.

They worked hard over months and when they were done and had a reason to part ways, Essek found he couldn’t. “I have something to ask of you, it is just a question and any response is acceptable of course. I do not want to pressure you.”

Caleb turned and leaned down, catching Essek’s eyes from the spot on the ground he’d been intently staring at, “Of course, you can ask any question of me.” He was clearly confused but trying to reassure Essek with a small smile.

“I have had, to be honest, a wonderful time studying with you here. Not just studying but talking, getting to know you. I have come to realize that I am quite fond of you Caleb Widogast.” Words tumbled out of his mouth and if he stopped the momentum at all he would lose steam and walk back his confession, “I was wondering whether, when we’re back in Roshona, or anywhere really it matters not to me, if I may buy you dinner. Or we could go do something else, take in some theatre, a concert. I care not what we do I simply wish to be there with you.”

He was out of breath and he knew the effort that had taken cause a deep flush on his cheeks. He searched Caleb’s face and his heart fluttered as his companion’s smile widened, “Yes,” His voice was tender as he closed the distance between them, “That would be much to my liking. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you too Essek and I’d like to see where this road may take us.”

“Well I suspect dinner will the the first place.” Caleb nodded and grabbed for Essek’s hand and they walked together to the Xhorhasian base to leave for home.

Their first date had been everything Essek expected and more, they went on more and more dates, spent time with each other studying, talking, enjoying music and art, and taking physical comfort in each other. It had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced. To miss someone when they were away, to feel like two people with one goal, one project, beginning to build something together that was intangible and entirely personal.

It wasn’t long after they’d begun cohabitating that Essek had though of marriage. It’s interesting how casual a thought it had become in the past few months. Considering Caleb might be his husband, to willingly join himself to another. To never be alone again.

The night he asks, Caleb has just come home from a trip to assist Yussa. They worked together on occasion and whenever Caleb went to his aid he was gone for an extended period. They’d been working on something to do with the folding halls and Caleb has begun telling him all about it. Whenever he tells Essek of these projects his face changes completely, there’s no hint of the sorrow that’s weighed him down for so long, he uses his hands to talk and his features are bright and animated.

He realizes a little too late that his mind has completely wandered off and Caleb is trying to get his attention back to him. “Schatz, what is that faraway look in your eyes? What are you dreaming of?”

Before even realizing the word he’s forming he’s already spoken, “You.”

Cheeks burning, he feels himself beginning to flail at the sweet look on his lover’s face, “Caleb I know we have talked about this before and I know the consensus wasn’t entirely clear but it’s been some time and I love you deeply. Everything we’ve been through together has strengthened us. You’ve made me a better man, taught me so much about life, we’ve conquered so many seemingly insurmountable tasks side by side and with the aid of our friends. We have walked through hell and back and I know that together we can do anything we set our minds to. I love you wholly and without hesitation and I would be honoured if you give to me the greatest happiness of becoming my husband.”

At that he pulls a ring he’s been saving from his wristpocket. It’s simple and silver, two bands side by side that cross over three times at the top of the ring, polished and clean. He holds it to Caleb who is beaming and holding out a simple golden band to Essek, it’s thin and polished with a flat top and a small red gem. “Mein Engel I could not possibly say yes fast enough, I have, I will admit, been waiting for the moment for quite some time. As usual you beat me to the punch.”

Hands trembling, Caleb allows Essek to slide the ring onto this hand and in turn does the same. Essek strokes Caleb’s face with the back of his hand and they embrace, hands entwining into each other’s hair, he holds Caleb as close as physics will allow but finds even that is not close enough. They stay like that for a long time before Caleb breaks the embrace, “We had better tell the Nein, Jester will throw a fit if she finds out we made her wait.”

“Tomorrow, tonight is for us and then tomorrow we can plan.”

They kiss again and the night is filled with sweet affirmations and poetic words.

--------

The Nein arrived a week before the date, promising to help with any preparations needed. Though Essek is no longer integral to the Den’s society, there are still certain expectations. They have ensured the correct people are invited without expanding the affair to be too overwhelming, Essek will have to endure his family but small inconveniences can be tolerated for a greater good.

His mother is, of course, scandalized but he pays it little mind. His brother is surprisingly ecstatic and takes a larger role in planning than Essek would have initially anticipated. He helps them find venues, flowers, caterers (though Jester, as a wedding gift, takes care of the cake and pastries). It’s strange to reconnect properly with his brother after so long apart, but it’s comforting that his attitude towards Essek hasn’t changed much. Growing up had done them both good.

They have asked Caduceus to perform their ceremony which he readily agreed to. They do away with anyone accompanying them to the alter, decide that they will walk out from opposing sides of the backyard layout they’ve planned, and join in the middle. As Caleb puts it, “This decision is mine and mine alone. I love my friends but it is important to me that I am not being given away and that I stand alone and commit myself to you.”

“Of course, I understand, anything you want my love.”

When Essek had explained the bread making ritual that is a part of most Xhorhasian weddings, Caleb had been more than accepting. “It’s customary for us to choose three people to make the bread, I have one person in mind that I would particularly appreciate being a part of that process. My brother has been an immense help to me and I know he particularly enjoys this tradition.”

Caleb nods, “Of course, of course. I think that I would like to ask Veth. She has been by my side for years and is my closest friend.”

Essek nods, he has an idea for the third person and judging by the look on Caleb’s face he has similar thoughts, “Jester?”

He laughs and nods, “Jester indeed.”

They ask their family and are met with whole hearted agreement. Technically the betrothed aren’t supposed to be there but Caleb wasn’t about to miss the chaos. Verin was guiding Veth and Jester through the kneading and they didn’t take long to begin discussing decorations. They decided on a pair of birds for the couple with a bird surrounding them for each of their friends and family, wheat for prosperity, braided strands of dough to represent the joining of lives, different varieties of flowers native to Xhorhas sculpted for long lives, good health, and strong commitment to another. Verin taught them the traditional songs as they worked and soon before long the three of them sang together, Jester inserting profanities whenever she forgot the words.

Seeing them work was complete chaos but soon the couple was shooed out as they got around to sculpting decorations, “Brother you know this must be a surprise. We have to stick to our roots just a little.”

“Yeah plus we need to gossip about you with Verin and learn all of your secrets Essek.” Jester drawls teasingly.

They leave and go about other preparations. Yasha and Beau are arranging flowers outdoors and for awhile they chat idly while following Yasha’s instincts. Beau and Caleb head inside to get some receptacles for the ever growing pile of stems and leaves accumulating on the table on which they worked. “Do you love him?”

Yasha stared intently from her position beside him at the table, having paused in her work. She’s never been talkative but he believes they understand each other, “Yes. I love him.”

“Good. I just wanted to see you say it for myself. The two of you remind me of something I once had. A beautiful moment in a very bleak past.I was lucky enough to find it a second time, and I pray that you never have to search for this again. I hope that your happiness transcends seasons and years and spreads farther than the horizon.”

She’s soft spoken, but he can tell she means it, “Thank you Yasha, I appreciate that very much.”

She smiles, and her eyes light up as her wife and his betrothed return. They talk and laugh through the day, finishing the decorations for the following day’s ceremony.

----

The day of, Essek can hardly contain himself. It’s unbearable that they have to go through the whole day before they can finally relax and just be married already. He’s had his own suit and robe custom made, Caleb hasn’t seen it yet and as he lays it out on the bed. Caleb is getting ready at the Xhorhaus which the Nein keep for emergencies such as this and is undoubtedly surrounded by the Nein fussing over him far more than he’d like. Their abode is quiet, Verin is getting ready in the guest room and is likely much less tense than Essek finds himself. He prepares in silence, going over his vows and wondering what Caleb will wear. He himself has a clean black suit, embroidered on the lapels in the same style as his preferred cloak. The cut is slim and it fits perfectly. The shirt is a deep plum and he has a silken black tie and pointed, shined black shoes. He wears the stole of his Den, his mother’s only request, and begins to properly prepare himself. He adorns his features in black and silver makeup, elongating the eye and adding a little drama. This ritual always calms Essek and today is no exception.

He’s taken his time getting ready and as he fastens his earrings in place, he’s alerted to a presence at his home. As he’s about to move to get the door, Verin calls out that he is taking care of it. Not long after, there’s a knock at his door, “Essek, it’s Veth. I know it’s getting close but may I speak with you?”

Veth. The one it’d been hardest to get to come around. Eventually she seemed to have let go but she still made Essek quite nervous. Far more so than even Beau, “Yes of course, come in.”

He turns to face her, she’s in a beautiful pink dress, makeup done and hair braided elaborately and adorned with flowers. “You look lovely, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?”

“You don’t have to be so formal with me. I just wanted to, I don’t know, speak with you briefly.” He gestures for her to sit in the twin chairs by the window, normally reserved for him and Caleb.

As they sit he folds his hands, trying to hide his fidgeting, “What is on your mind?”

“Well, I know this is a bit of a cliche, and the others have probably already talked with you but I feel I have to say it myself. It took me a long time to trust you, after what you did to my husband and then when we found out about the war crimes, I honestly wanted to be rid of you.

“I promise it gets better, just hear me out. I’ve been through a lot with Caleb. I’ve been by his side for some of his biggest moment and he’s been with me through some of the hardest times of my life. Our bond is forged by fire and nothing will break it. I care about him more than I can describe, he’s my boy and I am his protector.

“You have proven yourself to be worthy of him. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, I’ve heard his stories about you, about your life and what you are building together. I don’t know that I entirely understand, but you make him happy in a very profound way and that’s all I want. You two fucking nerds are clearly very much in love and anything that can make two people so happy must be good. It’s what we fought together for, so that these moments would continue, and for as long as you make Caleb happy I will be thankful for your presence in our lives.”

There’s a long pause as Essek collects his thoughts, “Veth Brenatto I thank you immensely. There is not much more I can say but please know that this is not something that comes easily or lightly to me. I am making a commitment and I keep my promises.”

“I know. But now you’re not only promising to him, you’re promising to me. You’d better make good on that promise or I swear I will make your life a living hell and you know I can.”

“Like I said, I never break my promises. I wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

She laughs, “Oh no, you’re weaker than Fjord it would take me about a day.”

He smiles back at her, “People will be arriving soon, I’d prefer to continue alone if you don’t mind. Please, feel free to stay and wait if you’d like.” She nods and exits the room and he turns back to the mirror and makes a few final touches before heading down to nervously await Caleb.

-----

The ceremony begins, Caduceus stands at the head of the aisle, the Nein and their loved ones are seated, and music from the hired bards begins to soar over the yard. His mother is at the very back, she will be first to see him and likely first to leave as well.

He tries to stop thinking about her and keeps his eyes on the ground. They promised not to look until they were to begin walking and it was taking all his discipline to keep his eyes trained on the grass. It’s dark in Xhorhas but the flower fixtures and garlands are accentuated by globules of light, he’d allowed Jester to place them to create the best atmosphere. She took great care and her sensibilities had always been spot on.

The song changed and finally, Essek could look up. Just seeing Caleb he felt tears stinging at his eyes. Clean shaven, auburn hair braided back with carefully placed flowers accentuating his bright eyes, lit up with wonder and excitement. He’s wearing a traditional wizard’s robe, it looks like he went to the same tailor who did his own embroidery. The robe is a bright white and adorned with gold thread, intricate designs spiraling across the edges. It’s slightly parted in the front to reveal a well fitting black suit, deep red tie, and a flower with a small white ribbon tied to it fastened to his lapel. As they walked towards each other, joined hands, and stepped together to the altar, Essek couldn’t take his eyes away. Approaching Caduceus they dropped each other’s hands and stood on either side of the Firbolg as he touched their shoulders, initiating the ceremony, and began to speak.

“Hey everybody, we are here today to join these two wizards in marriage. Never in my life have I met two people more in need of love and more transformed by it. I don’t want to prolong this more than necessary, before me are two people who are so in love they’re letting us see it plainly on their faces and I think making them wait would be grossly unfair. So Caleb, your vows?”

Caleb unfolded a small piece of paper from a pocket, “I have a near perfect memory but, I want to get this right,” he mutters, he looks at Essek like he’s worried the bubble will burst at any moment and continues a little louder, “Essek Thelyss, you and I we have been through a great many things. We have stared armageddon in the face and we have walked out hand in hand. Through any trial, through any day good or bad, I know that if you stand at my side we can, together, face anything that comes our way. I look forward to the rest of this day and the rest of the days to come and I know there is no place I would rather be than at your side through battle, study, hell or high water. I love you, Essek Thelyss and I will never tire of telling you.”

All Essek can do is watch, he doesn’t fidget, he nearly forgets to breathe as Caleb’s words wash over him and he smiles. He hardly even cares how he looks to those in attendance, for once he can’t mitigate the lopsided grin that comes naturally to him and though he hasn’t cried in years he is having trouble holding tears in now.

As Caleb finishes and Caduceus gestures to him he begins to speak, “Caleb Widogast, this kind of thing does not come easy to me. I am not used to speaking directly and for a long time I couched my feelings in metaphor praying you would understand without my full commital to how I felt about you. Now I can plainly say that I love you, I have loved you for a long time. You have fundamentally changed me as a person, you’ve helped me understand a great many things and I am better now than I have ever been because of you. Through you I learned friendship, patience, happiness, and love. You and your friends well, I don’t know that I can explain the effect you’ve had on me but I am freer now than I have ever been. To you I promise my unending support, my aid in anything you should ask, a partner in your pursuits, and your life. Come what may, I will always love you.”

A few tears had escaped and Caleb’s eyes glistened back at him. They both looked to Caduceus who looked truly proud as he looked back and forth between them, he posed a few questions standard in both the empire and in the dynasty and at the end he declared, “This union is not the ending of two separate lives, but the joining and creation of one life shared by two. I know I speak for everyone when I say, finally, I pronounce you wed.”

A warm breeze blew through the yard, carrying the sweet scent of flowers and tousling Essek’s hair, and as Caduceus’ hands left their shoulders Essek wrapped his arms across Caleb’s shoulders as his husband pulled him in by the waist and their lips locked in a kiss. Jester broke the silence, cheering loudly as their friends and family joined in, the Nein far rowdier than the rest who clapped politely. They shakily added rings they’d picked out weeks ago, matching and complimentary to their previously decided on jewelry.

As they pulled back, Essek looked at Caleb who had tears running down his face and Essek swept them away as Caleb leaned up to kiss his forehead. Their family began to gather around and offer congratulations but Essek’s eyes couldn’t leave Calebs as the human cradled his face and whispered a simple, “I love you.” and Essek returned, having practiced the phrasing and pronunciation meticulously to get it right, “Ich liebe dich.” Caleb smiled and kissed him chastely again, before they opened up to their friends and began the nights’ festivities.

[whengeorgiawentblue]

I've seen people's reactions about my post, most of them strong (justified) criticisms and (a few) of support (in the sense of understanding why I was venting)

First, I want to apologize for my inappropriate wording. "Emotionally abusive" is a very strong word and I said that in a moment when I had to vent all this frustration. In no way I'm justifying that, I know I was an asshole and an ignorant for saying something so awful.

I want to explain why I was so frustrated. This is what I call my "first thought". But in the process of thinking about that, I realized why I was probably very wrong for blaming Misha for my frustration, and I'll explain that in what I call "my second thought":

(Warning! Long post)

First thought: most of cockles shippers know where to draw the line with the privacy of the actors. As some people said in my former post, we are no entitled to tell them what they have to post, they don't owe us anything, and it's their choice what to show to the general public.

I absolutely agree with that, in the sense of not posting anything at all, in case they don't want that in the know. So I look at Jensen, and he just remains silent about the things he doesn't want to (or can't) say in public, i.e. the spn finale (I bet my ass he's still very pissed off, no matter what he said at Creation panel) or the tapes of 15.18 (which I also bet my ass he will never release).

But Jensen is also very straightforward when he's telling something. He wanted to tell the world he loves Misha, so he posted the 10th anniversary pictures or the chest-to-chest selfie. He's not really outing themselves, but it's so telling, it's so clear for me and many hellers that he's saying he loves Misha, that I actually admire his guts in order to post something like that.

And then I see the stuff Misha usually posts. And it's so ambiguous, so open to tinhatting speculation, but not straightforward at all. He's the one leaving little, ambiguous crumbles, and that was fun at first, but after long time it becomes tiring, and frustrating. What's real? What's not real? I'm tired of speculation and tinhatting. I'm not asking them to out themselves, but, if Misha is meeting Jensen, why the secretism? Besides cockles shippers, nobody gonna think you are a couple. Just post something simple, a picture of 2 friends hanging out, that's all. Jensen would be simple and forthright, meanwhile, Misha is shady and dubious. That's the reason I got angry at first, because I felt Misha was kind of "playing" with the fandom.

Take the Misha's video at the beach. That post was released like 1-2 days after the Alma poem about 2 lovers reuniting in a beach. Personally, I don't believe Misha is Alma, so I don't think there's any connection at all, no matter how much I would love that. But let's think for a while Alma is really Misha, and he posted that on purpose, so we would "know" that he met Jensen on the beach.

Well that happened months ago, since then we haven't got any confirmation at all. In all honesty, why leaving us these hints when there won't be any confirmation? That's the reason I got angry; Misha, if you were Alma, better not to say anything, just don't leave this material to speculate because at first it's funny but at the end of the day it gets frustrating because we end up with nothing. Just behave like Jensen: if you don't want something to be known, just remain silent (I'm saying this as an example in case Misha is Alma, which I highly doubt as I said previously)

So I had all this shit on my head and I needed to steam off, reason I wrote that harsh post. But then, I realize why Misha would behave that way, and why it was so unfair to blame him for that. That's my second thought.

Second thought: the reason Jensen is so sincere, so straightforward about the stuff he chooses to post or not to post, is because he has a pass. When he posted the 10th anniversary post, nobody (but hellers) would think he's "gay" for doing that. He's kind of privileged, he has the image, the looks, the power, to not to be questioned by the general public. He's loved by literally all the spn fandom (at least until the recent J2 fallout); no matter what he shows (or doesn't show) to the public eye, his public image won't be damaged.

And then I look at Misha, who is deeply hated by a good chunk of the spn fandom, who is always under scrutiny for everything he says or does, who is (compared with Jensen) unprivileged. He hasn't got that pass, so he's the one who must be extremely careful about the things he say.

I deeply believe both Jensen and Misha want to tell the world they are in love with each other. But, while Jensen has the privilege to be so straightforward, Misha hasn't, he can't allow himself to be as sincere as Jensen, so he has to use these subtle hints to express what he wants to say so badly: that he loves Jensen.

And then there are morons like me who didn't understand that situation and put all the blame on Misha's shoulders...

(PD: I want to say just one (1) thing in my defense. I've been blamed for "demanding" Misha to post a picture of him and Jensen (and Danneel) together. I was just asking for a picture where they all are together as friends. That's all. (ok I also said fucking picture which is very rude)

Of course, people are entitled to disagree with me, but it's awkward that I've been called out for that, when half of the heller fandom, almost everyday, are asking for the tapes of 15.18 to be released. Guys, the content of these tapes is far more controversial than a simple pic of 3 friends hanging out. It's not just sensitive material the CW probably will never let to be known, it's also the fact that it would be the definitive proof of Misha and Jensen being a couple in real life. Jensen admitted he slipped out of character during that scene. God knows what happened there. If Jensen asked that to be recorded, it was only for him and Misha's private viewing. It's better to accept the fact that we'll never, ever, see the tapes.)

[itsadamcole]

i wish

fem!reader x tyler breeze

It’s been almost three months since reader last saw her husband, Tyler Breeze. He’s been traveling for wrestling. Reader has a fancy dinner event for her law firm and she wishes that Tyler was there to accompany her. Little does reader know that Tyler has a little surprise up his sleeve ... “i wish you were here”

word count: 4.6k

warning: soft smut, fluff, a scene including sexual harassment, tyler being cute and happy, probably wrong legal stuff but we’re gonna pretend it’s real for the sake of the imagine

— just something i’ve been working on for a while and never posted —

masterlist || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

As you do your makeup for your formal dinner party with your co-workers, your mind wanders off to your husband.

It's been close to three months since you kissed Tyler goodbye and it's gotten harder and harder every day. You miss him. You miss him being around and you miss hearing him yell and scream when he's streaming or playing UNO with DaParty.

The house has been too quiet without him. The only reason you're not feeling lonely is because of Kanga, Tigger, and Roo, the two dogs and the cat you and Tyler parent.

As you're applying your lipstick, you realize that you have a few tears running down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. You groan, frustrated with yourself as you dry the tears and fix your look.

Once your makeup is finally done, you get into the dress you bought for the occasion.

The dinner tonight is a formal event, meaning full-length dresses instead of the usual cocktail dress. You bought a full length dark red satin dress for the occasion. The top of the dress hugs your chest while the skirt has a slight flare to it. The v-neck dips down a little bit and the sleeves are thin as they sit on your shoulders. You pair the dress with dark red heels.

You put in diamond earrings that were gifted to you by Tyler on your first wedding anniversary. They hand down a little bit. To decorate your neck, you wear a necklace that your sister gave you for your birthday two birthdays ago. You put on your engagement and wedding rings on your left ring finger. You rarely ever wear your rings to work, let alone a work event.

As you're putting on your jewelry, your phone starts to go off. You walk over to the ringing device. Tyler is trying to FaceTime you.

You've told him about the dinner tonight and he said that he'd be there if he could. He knows how much you hate any kind of party.

Putting a smile on your face, you answer the FaceTime call. Tyler is looking at his phone, waiting for you to pick up. The second he sees you, a smile lights up his face. "There's my beautiful wife," Tyler says. "I can only see your face but I just know you look stunning."

"Hold on," you say, walking over to the full-length mirror in your bedroom. You turn the camera so the camera is on the mirror. The sunlight coming through the window lights up the room.

Tyler has a look of awe on his face as he looks at you in the mirror via the phone camera. "Baby," he says. "You look like a princess."

You smile and say, "I just need a little tiara."

Your husband says, "You don't need a tiara to be a princess, baby. This right here proves it."

You giggle and turn the camera back to your face. "I wish you were here," you say. "I hate going to these things alone."

Tyler says, "I know. I wish I was too. I'll be home for the next event though and we can kill it together. I promise."

"I can't wait," you say, glancing at the time. "Okay, I have to get going. It's going to take me years to drive to the place where this event is going to be because I'm in a gown and heels."

Your husband laughs over the phone and he asks, "Is it at The Oak again?"

Nodding, you say, "Of course it is because the partners always have this stupid dinner at the same exact place every few months."

Both you and Tyler laugh before he says, "Well, then, I'll let you go. You look beautiful, baby. I love you."

"And I love you," you say, blowing him kisses through the phone. "I'll see you when you come home."

Tyler smiles and says, "I'll be home before you know it. It'll go by quickly."

You smile as you both say your goodbyes. You grab your clutch and walk downstairs, phone already in hand from having just been on it when Tyler called.

You get into your car. You turn it on and start the half-hour ride to The Oak.

The Oak is a fancy hotel with a large ballroom area that the partners at your law firm always use for these events. There's one every four to six weeks. You've been working at Dolan and Reid's law firm for close to ten years so these get kind of boring after a while. You're required to be at each one though because of your position in the firm. You're a junior partner. You were promoted late last year and you were ecstatic.

You've been with Tyler since you were just starting out in the law firm. You got married four years ago. It's been an amazing four years.

As you pull up, you see several of your co-workers walking into the hotel. They're laughing and already having a good time. You park in the parking lot before you walk into the hotel yourself.

You've been here so many times, the hotel employees know your name and you know most of theirs. You don't have to ask where the bar is because you've been here so often.

When you walk up to the bar, the bartender, whose name is Lucy, asks, "What can I get for you, Y/N?"

You sigh, "A glass of your best whiskey, Lucy. Thank you."

She nods and gets your drink ready.

"This drink is on me," a male voice says beside you. You look over and see one of the other junior partners standing next to you. Danny Watson. You roll your eyes as you're handed your drink. "What? No 'hello'? Or what about 'hi, Danny. How are you'?"

You sip your drink and hold up your left ring finger with your wedding ring on it. "I'm married, remember?" you say coldly. "I'm not interested for the hundredth time."

Danny says, "I know for a fact that your husband is out of town for some wrestling bullshit so let me take you home, baby. Let me show you what I could do if you dumped that husband of yours that's never home."

You stay calm as you say, "Listen here, Daniel. Don't you insult my husband's work by calling it bullshit. And don't you dare even ask me to go home with you. I'm tired of you and your sexual harassment. Do it one more time and I'll talk to the partners about it."

He laughs and says, "You think they're gonna do anything about it? They have more important things to deal with than an allegation of sexual harassment."

"You forget that I'm a lawyer that handles sex cases or cases involving harassment and assault," you spit at him. "I'll sue you and represent myself."

Danny rolls his eyes and says, "Whatever, Y/N. You're not worth my time anymore."

You get angry and you say, "Fuck you, Danny. I was never worth your time because I am not going to cheat on my husband with anyone, let alone someone as low as you."

Someone walks over and stands beside you. "Y/N, is Danny bothering you again?" You look over and see that it's your best friend from work, Y/WBF/N. You sigh with relief and nod. "Go the fuck away, Danny. Stop harassing the poor girl when she's already upset enough."

Danny rolls his eyes and walks off. You thank Y/WBF/N and say, "My hero."

She hooks her arm with yours and says, "Let's head into the main room and dance a little bit. We both need to let off a little steam after that."

You finish your drink and say, "I couldn't agree more." The two of you walk into the ballroom area and walk to the dance floor.

Y/WBF/N is wearing a full-length form-fitting black dress. It looks beautiful on her. Her jet black curls bounce up and down as she moves.

You and your work best friend both dance for about 30 minutes before the DJ says, "Let's slow it down a little bit so the couples in the room can dance together."

A Thousand Years by Christina Perri plays and you leave the dance floor area with Y/WBF/N, finding a seat at one of the round tables. You sip the water that's provided for you and you notice Y/WBF/N glance behind you and smile a bit.

Before you can react or say anything, you hear a familiar voice behind you say, "Excuse me, Mrs. Breeze. I believe that you should be on the dance floor with your husband." You quickly turn around in your seat and look behind you to see your husband, Tyler Breeze, standing behind you. He's fully dressed in a black and white suit with a red tie.

Quickly, you get up and wrap your arms around Tyler's neck. You're on your tiptoes as you hug him. You're hugging your husband for the first time in months. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck.

Tyler takes your hand and leads you over to the dance floor, where about twenty or so couples are dancing together to the slow song. You haven't been able to stop smiling since you turned around in your seat.

Your husband takes you in his arms, wrapping them around your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck and sway to the music. You stare up at Tyler, meeting his pretty brown eyes for the first time since he left three months ago.

"How did you get here?" you ask. "Last time I checked, you were supposed to be in Seattle for NXT Takeover."

He smiles and says, "That's not until Saturday and I decided to come by for the next four days and spend time with my wife. Dango is covering for me in Seattle while I'm here with you. It wasn't worth spending four days in Seattle with nothing to do so I decided to come and surprise you."

You smile and pull yourself closer to Tyler. Your cheek is now on his chest and you listen to the sound of his heart beating. You say, "I'm so happy you're home for a few days. I've missed you so much, so have Kanga, Tigger, and Roo."

Tyler laughs and says, "I said hi to them when I stopped by the house to grab this tie so I can somewhat match you."

Laughing, you look back up at Tyler. A smile is on your lips as you sigh, "I've missed you, Tyler. So much."

Your husband says, "I've missed you too, Y/N. You look absolutely stunning and I am so glad that I got to see you in the dress."

You smile and wrap your arms tighter around Tyler's neck, pressing your cheek to his chest again. Tyler kisses the top of your head and you close your eyes as the song ends but changed to One Direction's If I Could Fly.

Tyler wraps his arms tighter around your waist and you both continue to sway to the music.

As you dance with your husband, you wish that this moment would never end that way he wouldn't have to leave in four days to fly across the country from you. You wish you could stay in his arms forever. You don't want him to leave and you can't go with him because you have an important case to prep for. The trial starts on Monday.

"Hey," Tyler says, looking down at you. "Y/N, what's wrong? You're crying."

You hadn't noticed that you started crying. You wipe your mascara filled tears away and you say, "I wish you didn't have to leave in a few days. I hate it when you leave for so long. I wish you could stay with me for a while."

Tyler smiles and says, "I was going to surprise you with this later but after Takeover, I'm home for nine weeks. No more touring until after the holidays. The next Takeover is in Orlando so I don't have to go very far."

The news makes you smile wide. You say, "Really? You're going to be home for nine weeks straight?"

Your husband nods and says, "I am. I'm all yours for the next nine weeks after Takeover. I also told Dango to stay away for the first week or so since I have a lot of time to make up for." Tyler winks at you. You lightly kick Tyler's shin.

"Tyler!" you scold. "I'm at a work event. You can't be saying these things when my co-workers are around."

He laughs and asks, "Am I not allowed to touch you then since your co-workers are around?" He lets you go and you pout.

You say, "I never said that." Tyler smiles and puts his hands back on your waist. "You're mean."

Tyler smiles and says, "But you love me."

You giggle and say, "Yes. I do love you."

"Am I allowed to kiss you or no?" your husband teases. "Since your co-workers are around."

Rolling your eyes, you say, "I don't care if my co-workers are around. I haven't kissed you in close to three months."

Tyler laughs and brings his lips down to yours. They move against yours slowly and your eyes flutter closed as you kiss your husband for the first time in three months. The kiss is very soft and passionate from the start. Your hands slide to Tyler's cheeks, holding his face between your hands.

The song changes and everyone comes back into the dance floor. Tyler pulls back from the kiss and looks down at you.

"Y/N," one of the partners calls, walking toward you. Mr. Reid is the partner walking toward you. "May I have a few words outside with you?"

You nod and look at Tyler. "I'll be right back," you say to your husband. "Y/WBF/N is still at the table you found me at."

Tyler nods and you walk away with Mr. Reid, leaving the large ballroom and loud music. You find yourself in the lobby of the hotel with not only Mr. Reid but Mr. Dolan and Danny.

That bitch, you think to yourself.

Mr. Dolan says, "Mr. Watson here has told us you have been harassing him for a few weeks. He's been saying you've been wanting to, and I quote, 'take him to bed'."

Your eyes widen and you say, "That is not how it went down, Mr. Dolan. It's been the opposite actually. My husband has been away for a few weeks for his job and Daniel has been harassing me the entire time my husband has been gone." Panic rises in your voice. "I've never once asked if Daniel could take me to bed. As a matter of fact, I've never approached Daniel for anything outside of work."

Mr. Reid looks at Danny and says, "You omitted the part where she had a husband, Mr. Watson."

You've rarely ever told anyone that you have a husband let alone that Tyler Breeze is your husband because of his status. NXT Tag Team Champion and WWE superstar. He's well known, and you never know who is or isn't a wrestling fan.

The partners never asked for your marital status so you never told them. You were single when you started working at the firm. You've been going by your maiden name at work, not your married last name since you never legally changed your name to Y/N Breeze after you married Tyler.

Between your friends and family, you are Mrs. Breeze. Legally, you're still Y/N L/N so you're not obligated to tell anyone you're married. You've only told Danny and Y/WBF/N because of Danny's harassment and because Y/WBF/N is your best friend.

Daniel says, "I didn't think that was an important subject."

Mr. Dolan says, "Miss L/N, we did check the footage from tonight at the bar before we came to get you and we did see that Mr. Watson came up to you and you did seem agitated that he was there. You held up your left hand as well. We just wanted to confirm that it has been Mr. Watson harassing you since we did have visual evidence."

You sigh with relief that the partners didn't believe Danny.

Danny on the other hand looks pissed that he's been caught in a lie. Mr. Reid says, "Now, Mr. Watson, next time you lie, you might not want to lie to lawyers. As of this moment, you have been demoted to associate, and associate you will stay for a while. If we get any more reports of harassment coming from you, you will be terminated. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Danny mumbles.

Mr. Reid says, "You're dismissed, Mr. Watson."

Danny walks away and you look at the partners. Mr. Dolan asks, "Miss L/N, is your last name legally L/N, or do you share your husband's last name?"

You say, "It's legally still L/N. I've been thinking of legally changing it to my husband's last name for a little bit."

"What's been stopping you?" Mr. Dolan asks.

You play with your thumbs and say, "My husband is a professional wrestler. A pretty well-known professional wrestler and I've been trying to keep my marriage on the quiet side because of his job."

Mr. Reid says, "You don't have to use your husband's last name on your cards for work if you want to change it to his last name. You can still be Y/N L/N since it is your maiden name."

You blink and say, "In that case, I might legally change my last name to my husband's. I was lead to believe that I had to use my legal name."

Mr. Reid says, "You can go by your birth name or your married name, Miss L/N. We have a few documents upstairs that will help you begin the process of changing your last name tonight. I can retrieve them quickly. All you have to do is provide some information and sign a few papers and then it's done."

You nod and say, "Let's do it."

The partners go and get the documents. Tyler texts you in the meantime.

11:27 pm

tyler bby: everything okay? you’ve been gone for a little bit

11:28 pm

you: everything's okay. we're talking over a case that starts monday. i'll be back in a few minutes

Tyler writes back an "okay see you in a few" and you sigh.

He surprised you and now you're going to surprise him. He's been wanting you to change your last name so he'll be happy about this.

With Mr. Reid and Mr. Dolan's help, the documents are all signed after you provide the information. It takes about fifteen minutes once they come back with the papers.

Mr. Reid hands you a document with your new legal name and says, "Congratulations, Mrs. Breeze."

You smile and say, "Thank you."

You walk off back toward the dinner party and walk to Tyler.

When you get to Tyler, you lower the paper in front of his face from behind him and you say, "Surprise."

Tyler looks up at you and asks, "You changed your last name?"

You nod and say, "It'll take some time and some processing before it's officially legal but yes, I changed my last name. I am now unofficially Mrs. Y/N Breeze. I'm still going to use my maiden name at work and it's what my clients will call me but my legal name will be Y/N Breeze."

Your husband stands up and kisses you. You giggle into the kiss and he mumbles, "Mrs. Breeze sounds so hot."

"It was your last name before it was mine," you say against Tyler's lips.

Tyler smiles against your lips before he pulls back. "Tonight's just full of surprises for both of us," he says.

You peck his lips and say, "Take me upstairs to see another surprise that will give you a preview of what our week will look like once you're back from Takeover this weekend."

Tyler's eyes widen and he takes your hand. He walks to the receptionist's desk and says, "We'd like a room. Any room that you have available."

The woman behind the desk says, "Room 1118 is available."

Your husband says, "We'll take it."

Tyler pays for the room and is given the key. Excited, he takes your hand again and walks to the elevator. He steps on and pulls you into his arms. As the doors shut, Tyler kisses you passionately. You giggle against his lips and mumble, "Someone's antsy."

"I haven't been intimate with my wife in three months," he says, pulling back from the kiss and undoing his tie. "Excuse me if I'm a little excited to have sex tonight."

You smile and pull Tyler back to you by pulling his jacket. Your lips crash to his and the intense kiss continues as Tyler presses you against the wall of the elevator.

Luckily no one is on the elevator as you ascend to the 11th floor. The trip takes what feels like forever before you reach the 11th floor.

Once the doors open, you take Tyler's hand and walk down the hallway quickly until you get to room 1118.

Tyler unlocked the door with the keycard and pulls you inside. The door closes and automatically locks behind you as Tyler presses you against the door.

You stare up at Tyler and see his brown eyes dark with lust and need, for you. Your core begins to ache at the thought of what Tyler's going to do to you tonight after he sees the underwear you're wearing.

It's been three long months since you last had sex. Three months too long.

Your need for Tyler overwhelms you and you lean your head up, kissing Tyler hard.

As your lips move against Tyler's, you push off his suit jacket. It drops to the floor. His tie joins the jacket before the two of you stumble toward the bed.

It's mostly dark in the room, except for the moonlight and bright lights of Orlando shining into the room from the window and glass doors that lead to the balcony.

You've done this so many times with Tyler that the two of you know each other like the back of your hands. You don't need light.

Tyler's fingers work on the zipper on the back of your dress as yours work on unbuttoning his shirt. Your lips move feverishly against each other. You eventually get Tyler's shirt unbuttoned and you pull it off of him.

He gets your dress unzipped and you let it fall off your body, pooling at your feet. You step out of your heels and Tyler pulls back from the kiss. He looks down at you. You're not wearing a bra but you're wearing a pair of red lacy panties.

Your husband licks his bottom lip and says, "Now that's a surprise."

You giggle and start to unbutton his pants as he spins you around and pushing you back onto the bed. He leans over the bed with his hands on either side of you, holding himself up. Tyler kisses you softly, taking his face in your hands as you kiss him back.

Tyler pushes you onto your back, breaking the kiss. His lips are on your chest and slowly trail down your body. You've missed this feeling. His lips on your body, his fingers touching your skin. It's been three months since you've been with Tyler like this.

He pushes your panties to the side and starts to kiss and suck on your sensitive clit. You let out a soft moan and bite your lip. Tyler hums softly and runs his tongue through your folds. "Tyler," you sigh. "Please. No teasing tonight."

Your husband smirks and pulls off your panties before slipping two fingers into you. You moan a little louder and your back arches off the bed as Tyler moves his fingers quickly.

You grasp onto the bedsheets and let out a loud moan as he adds a third finger. Loud moans escape your lips with every flick of Tyler's wrist. Your body jerks beneath Tyler's touch and he looks up at you with his eyes.

It takes maybe five minutes before you're pulled to the edge of an orgasm. Your legs shake a bit as you get closer and closer, then Tyler pulls his fingers out of you. You whine and look at him.

"Baby," you say, pouting. "Not fair."

Tyler stands at the foot of the bed in front of you. You watch as he pulls off his pants and his boxers. You gently bite your lip and Tyler crawls onto you, hovering over you between your legs. His lips are on yours within a few seconds and they move against yours intensely. Your fingers are in his hair, holding Tyler close to you.

The two of you share the passionate kiss for a few moments before Tyler begins to push himself into you, making you moan and gasp softly against Tyler's lips.

Tyler pulls back and his lips attach to your neck. Your hands slide down to the back of Tyler's neck and he starts to thrust his hips into you gently. Your eyes flutter closed and you enjoy the feeling of Tyler inside you. "God, Tyler," you moan. "I've missed this."

Your husband smiles against your neck as he moves harder into you, his tip grazes your g-spot and you moan his name loudly.

He props himself up on his arms, pulling away from your neck. Your eyes meet his as you wrap your legs around his waist tightly. His thrusts are harder and he's so deep inside you that his hips are now flush against yours.

As you're pulled closer and closer to your orgasm again, your legs begin to shake. You're gasping and moaning. The sound of skin slapping and your moans fill the small room.

"I'm close, baby," Tyler groans as he's pulled closer to his climax.

Your hands cup his face and you say, "Come, baby."

Tyler thrusts a few more times into you before you both release. You around him and him inside you. He helps you ride out your high. You come down, whining and sighing. You pull Tyler's face down to yours and kiss him lightly.

Both of you are out of breath as Tyler rolls off of you and walking to the bathroom to grab something to clean everything up. You crawl under the blankets and once Tyler's done cleaning up, he joins you. You rest your head on his chest and listen to his heart beat in his chest. You smile and say, "Your heart is beating so fast."

He lets out a breathy laugh and he says, "It's beating that fast for you."

You move so you're laying onto your stomach. Your breasts are presses against Tyler's side and you rest your chin on your hands, which rest on his chest. Tyler smiles at you and you say, "You're so cheesy, but I love it."

Tyler kisses your nose and says, "I can't wait until after Takeover now if that's what our week is going to look like as soon as I get back."

Laughing, you say, "It's going to look like that and so much more. Expect some new outfits too, Mr. Breeze."

Your husband smiles and says, "Oh, I'm excited about these new outfits, Mrs. Breeze."

[shesclearlya3]

i loved you first. p.1

pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

word count: 2,205

warnings: au! in present time, language, but okay can you imagine (not dead) Xavier THRIVING in 2020

not entirely proof-read. *title inspired by joan’s song*

part 1 | part 2 |  part 3 | part 4 | epilogue

1.

When you met Xavier Plympton, your relationship had been strictly platonic. You expected it to remain that way, despite the fact he was funny, empathetic, good looking, and at times, a little dumb, endearingly so.

So when you started to fall for him, you continually brushed it off.

Oh, it's just a phase, you'd think to yourself as Xavier sheepishly wiped down the kitchen after using the Ninja blender and not securing the lid tightly enough. Or the time he and his friend, Chet, spent hours in your cramped living room arguing because they couldn't figure out how to set up the Roku Xavier bought instead of paying for cable. You watched in amusement, sipping your smoothie, wrapped in your blanket until they finally figured it out.

The little things Xavier would do for you also did not help. He'd make your coffee in the morning, or make dinner on nights you'd run late or grab food on the way home, ready to pig out and watch Netflix. The little things you never thought would make you fall for someone, did. 

When your first anniversary of living together passed, Xavier bought a box of Capri-Suns and put some balloons in the living room when you arrived home from work. Your feet were aching, and you were ready to take a hot shower and curl up in bed. Xavier's infectious smile made you forget all of the seemingly endless bad things that had happened to you that day. 

Still, you continued to hide your true feelings. Xavier never indicated he felt the same for you, and you were afraid of getting in too deep just to become disappointed. 

It was like watching a Hallmark movie enfold in front of you when your best friends, Montana and Brooke soon realized you had feelings for him. 

"You should tell him, y/n," Brooke said, her eyes bright, she was quite the romantic. 

"Yeah, it's unfortunate watching you pine over him," Montana said, shrugging at you when you glared at her. "What? All I'm saying is that it's sad, and you deserve to be happy," she said. Brooke nodded in agreement. 

"And if he doesn't like me back? I might lose him for good," you said, pushing that wicked thought away as fast as it came. "I don't want to lose him."

Brooke and Montana shared a look before changing the subject. You still caught the glimpses they threw you throughout the evening.

That was last weekend, and now that Friday was slowly approaching, you anxiously watched as the clock ticked to the time your shift ended. Xavier wanted everybody to go out and have a good time tonight, and he claimed he was bringing along a "special guest." You immediately assumed it was Brooke's boyfriend, Ray, who was away for work and was supposed to be home a day early to surprise her. 

You were... kind of correct.

Ray was there, but so was another woman.

Who Xavier introduced as his girlfriend. 

The initial shock at his words quickly manifested on your face. It was more horrifying when not only Brooke and Montana looked at you, but Chet and Ray as well. You hid your face with your hair as Xavier proudly introduced his friends to the redhead who was clinging to his waist. 

"-and my roommate, y/n," he gestured to you with a grin.

You slowly waved at her, ignoring the sinking feeling in your belly as she slowly sized you up and down before smiling and waving back. For a quick second, you felt judged. Until you realized you had also checked her out for the simple fact of wondering what she had that you didn't. 

"Guys, this is Chloe," Xavier grinned down at her, before pressing a kiss to her head. 

"How long have you two been together?" Ray asked, throwing his arm around Brooke, who slid her eyes from yours. 

"About a month, huh babe?" Chloe smiled. 

Your mouth dropped open, looking at the couple in front of you as if they grew two heads. You lived with him, and Xavier never told you about her?  

How could you not know?

You continued to remain silent as everybody congratulated Xavier on his newfound romance. A part of you was angry; Xavier was one of your closest friends, you told him everything, and he did the same. For the most part.  

Had she been to your apartment? When you weren't home? When you were asleep? 

You were also angry that you seemed to miss all the signs. Plus, your heart had just been shattered into a million pieces, and the night had barely begun. 

Xavier followed the boys to the bar, promising to pay for the first round. Chloe stayed behind, sitting down in the booth with a sigh. Montana took your hand, giving you a reassuring smile as your eyes blinked back tears. 

"Aww, are you two dating?" Chloe asked, her eyes trained on your hands. You could hear her excitement. "I've always wanted lesbian friends!"

Montana smirked, squeezing you tighter. You gave her an alarmed look, but like always, Montana came through. "Only for this one, babe," she said. "Plus, we kind of only just met you, so."

You released Montana's hand, excusing yourself to go to the bathroom while Chloe started taking selfies for her Snapchat. Brooke went to find the boys as you walked to the nearest safe haven, keeping your head down. 

You didn't realize that Montana had followed you until you went to lock the door. She gave you a sad smile as she let it click shut, before locking it. For a bathroom at a bar, it was nicely cleaned and smelt like peppermint. 

"I didn't know if you wanted to be alone..." she whispered. 

"N-No, it's fine," you said, ripping out some paper towels to dry your eyes with. "I appreciate the company."

"If I had known, I would have told you about her, Xavier kept her from me too." 

"I just feel so stupid," you sniffled, turning on the water to wipe your eyes with. "To think Xavier would remain single forever until I grew a pair to tell him." 

"It's not your fault!" Montana interjected. 

You nodded to appease her, but deep down, you were still thinking of the redhead in the other room who was dating the person you loved most.

The night went with you sitting in the booth, watching all your friends dance and grind on each other. 

Brooke had an early shift the next day and eventually joined you, swearing off alcohol for the rest of the night. She wrapped her arm around your shoulder, causing you to tear up a little. 

Chloe seemed friendly, and you hated that. You wanted to find an excuse to hate everything about her, but it was almost impossible. She had tried talking to you about Xavier, but he pulled her up and away, and you had to stare at the table, so you didn't see them practically fucking through their clothes. 

It was the worst when your closest friends didn't seem to notice something was up. Or they pretended not too. The boys were clueless, and you probably needed to be thankful for that. Chet wasn't always the best with dealing with "girl problems," and Ray was currently drunk off his ass. Xavier just danced with Chloe and occasionally came back to the table to suck down his drink. 

One AM slowly came around, and you gathered your things, checking your phone to see it was close to dying. 

"I think I'm gonna go home." you leaned over as Brooke looked up from her own. She smiled at you, pulling you into a hug, which you gratefully returned.

 "Text me when you get there!" she said, saying a final goodbye as you slipped out of the booth. You shrugged on your light jacket, dodging the dancing bodies, and made your way to the entrance when an all too familiar hand gripped your arm. 

"Hey! Where are you going, y/n?" Xavier asked, pressing your hand to his chest like he always has. He didn't seem to be drunk yet. "The night's still young, babe!"

You frowned at him, loving his touch, but you pulled your hand from him. "I'm not feeling well, I'm going home!" you called out over the music, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I haven't seen you all night!" he said, a pout on his face. You wanted to throw Chloe into his face, but you knew better. He deserved to hang out with who he wanted. To date, who he wanted.

"Oh, yeah, you've been busy," you said. "I gotta go, Xav," you pulled yourself from his grasp completely before slipping the hood over your head as you walked outside to your car. 

When you got home, you texted your girls like you promised and slipped into the shower. You blared your favorite songs, crying when you needed to and fuming when you didn't. 

You're so naive, thinking Xavier Plympton could love you.

Don't be so harsh, you then scolded yourself. But at the same time, those words hung heavily over your heart until you crawled into bed, falling fast asleep. 

2.

The next few days were somewhat average. You went to work, came home, spent time with Montana or Brooke when Xavier wasn't back at his usual time. 

You hadn't seen or heard anything from Chloe since the night you met her. 

Almost a week after the bar, you were surprised to find Xavier lounged on the couch, wrapped up in blankets. His cheeks were rosy, and he looked tired. Oh no.

Xavier Plympton had a fever every few months, it seemed. You had always been his designated caretaker since you met him. A part of you hoped that some things could still be the same, even with him having a girlfriend.

He smiled at the sight of you until you heard rustling in the kitchen. You set your bag down in your usual spot, "Xavier, is it another fe-,"

"Xavier! Baby, your tea is ready," Chloe chirped as she came in from the kitchen. She didn't glance at you as she walked to Xavier, holding your designated mug in her hands. 

"What kind?" Xavier piped up, sitting up just a bit. You continued winding down, using your ears instead of your eyes.

"Black."

You fought the urge to snicker aloud. Xavier's favorite tea was peppermint, especially when he was sick. You could almost imagine the disgust on his face.

"Oh, thanks, babe," he said lamely. Xavier sat up, gently blowing on the steaming mug in his hands. Chloe sat in the only available chair, watching him with rapt interest. You headed to your room, stripping from your work clothes, not realizing you were rushing just to run back out there. 

You're not going to spy on them!

YES, I AM! You snickered to yourself, slipping on your pajamas before brushing out the tangled knots in your hair. 

Xavier had laid back down when you came out, watching reruns of Judge Judy while Chloe typed on her phone. Her brows were furrowed as she concentrated, and even then, she looked gorgeous. You chewed on your lip as you crawled on the floor towards Xavier, who smiled at you when you sat in front of him.

"Hey," he rasped.

"Hey, you," you pressed a hand to his forehead, instantly feeling the heat radiating from his skin. "When did this start?" 

Xavier shrugged, "I woke up this morning and felt like shit, I've been here all day," 

"Are you monitoring your temperature?" you asked.

"Yes."

"Are you staying, hydrated?"

"Yes."

"Did you wash your sheets?"

Xavier gave you a guilty yet charming smile. "No, I have not."

You laughed a bit, removing your hand from his forehead. "I'll do it for you," you glanced at the teacup on the coffee table, seeing it was barely touched. Chloe didn't seem to be paying you much mind, so you asked him if he'd like more tea. He nodded, almost aggressively as you stood up, promising to make his favorite. 

The rest of the night went like this: Chloe hounded Xavier about a few outfit choices she was debating for an important meeting at her job. You made Xavier some soup, opting to reheat your leftovers from the night before. Xavier drank two cups of peppermint tea, then dozed off, leaving an awkward silence between you and Chloe. She seemed attached to her phone, but you didn't mind. 

You watched television, still sitting in the same spot on the floor as Xavier softly snored in your ear. It wasn't until you were dozing off yourself that Chloe left, pressing a kiss to Xavier's hot forehead before leaving. 

You had changed and washed his bedsheets, but you knew it was pointless trying to move him into bed. When Xavier was sick, he slept like he was dead. You turned off the television and gathered his dirty dishes to place them in the sink. 

No matter what became of you and Xavier, or Xavier and Chloe, you knew some things would just never change. One of them is you would always care for Xavier, no matter what. 

*if you want to be added to the taglist, you know the drill.*

[mugiwara-no-angel143]

Drowning

Kirishima x reader

Warnings: death , that should be all, I’m sorry I missed anything. 

Italics - memories

I'm really nervous about this, it’s been 2 years since I've written anything and I heard “Drowning” - Chris Young and this was done. 

Tags: @aurorahoneybuns

Beep

“Hi this is y/n , leave a message and I’ll get back to you … eeek Elij! I’m trying to do my message … you took too long and I want to cuddle …. beep beep beep ….

Kirishima has you pulled over his shoulder taking you into the bedroom, your phone long forgotten  as  you giggled and wiggled your way down to set your legs around his waist. He pulled you into a passionate kiss.

Kirishima had his phone to ear, tears rolling down his face as he listened to your voice remembering the events that took place that night. He couldn’t believe you kept the message but he loved that you did.

“Kiri baby, I need to go get the ingredients for dinner.”  You called as you got ready to leave.

“Hold up, I’ll come with you.” He was getting ready when his phone chimes indicating a text. He looked at the phone and then as you.

“Duty calls?”

“Yea, they need my help.”  He frowned.

“Mmmm my hero ,” you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, “I’m so proud of you baby.”  And he smiles as you said your goodbyes.

He heard a knock at the door and grunted as he fumbled past the door to head to his bedroom.

He heard the door getting kicked in.

“Oi! I know you heard me knocking. “ Bakugo yelled as he walked into the apartment, he made his way through his friend’s place, as he found him on the floor of his room with pictures of you and him scattered everywhere.

Kirishima was smiling at one of his favorite pictures of the two of you. It was one from high school, lunch with the group as you were laughing at something he said with your nose scrunched up and your beautiful (e/c) eyes closed and he was looking at you and it was as if no one else was there at that moment but you to him.

“She looks so beautiful here, you know this was the day I fell in love with her , her laughter, I knew I wanted to be the one to make her laugh like that for the rest of my life.” His tears fell onto the picture as he wiped his eyes.

Bakugo sat next to his friend and sighed, rubbing his back. “Kiri, this isn’t healthy , we need to get out of here, get you some fresh air.” Bakugo could be a loud mouthed jerk at times but he knew his friend needed him.

“Nah, I ….  I’m just gonna lay down and sleep.” He knew when he closed his eyes you would be there holding him.

“Nope, get up! Do you want me to take you to her? Maybe talking to her will help.” His friend held out his hand and Kiri took it, letting him help him up to his feet.

“ come on”

“Oi shitty hair , so did you do it?”

“No, not yet ,” he said as he took the little velvet box that held a princess cut white gold ring that had a beautiful ruby in the middle of it. He was smiling from ear to ear with his toothy grin. “ Tonight, it’s our 2 year anniversary, she is getting dinner and I have to be here.” He frowned.

“Oi, once we help arrest these jackasses you can leave and i’ll take care of everything else at the agency.”

“You’d really do  that for me? I always knew under that hot tempered persona was a teddy bear.”

“*tsk* don’t make me regret this.” Bakugo chuckled. He could be a jerk to everyone he came across but when it came to his best friend, he owed him alot. “ She’s pretty cool, even for a quirkless extra.”

Kirishima just smiled that big toothy grin at his friend “ She’s not an extra, she’s so manly.”

The car ride seemed to take forever, tree after tree, building after building, it was an endless montage of leaves and roofs. Kirishma sighed and he placed his head against the cool glass of the window. Leaves littered the streets.

“Let’s see, that should be everything i need.” you looked into the cart pointing off items hoping you didn’t forget anything. Once you were satisfied with what you had you went to check out. As you walked outside you heard a loud noise. You dropped your bag of food.

You saw the scene in front of you, people running , screaming and crying. You make out two villains are the cause of the scene: one sticks around and the other leaves to lead the heroes away.   They are powerful. You hear a faint cry.

“Ma-mama … “ the little boy is scared , he’s using his water quirk to try and quiet the flames around him, standing in the middle of the street.

“Well, what do we have here.” One of the monsters smirks at the child and he freezes. He couldn’t move his legs to get away. You weren’t sure if it was from the villain or because he was frightened. You watch as the man stalked up to the child and you couldn’t just not do anything. You ran from your spot in front of the store and covered him in your warm embrace.

“Hi sweetheart.” You coo trying to distract him, to get him to move. You look behind your shoulder and see his face, scars distorting his face. You see him smirk at you.

“Oh! Do I have a hero here hmm? I fuckin hate heroes. “ he spilts as his face transforms to disgust.

“Sweetheart, when I count to three I’m going to need you to run as fast as you can. Ok? Can you do that?”

He looks up at you and nods and you smile. “I have a friend whose name is Kirishima and you know what he’d say? You are so manly for being so brave.” You look again and the man is approaching fast. You take a deep breath when he emits electricity from his hands.

You turn to face the man and say “ don’t look back sweetie. THREE!”

The boy runs as fast as his legs can.

The car stops and Kirishima sighs and brings his hands to his face. “I can’t Bakugo. I don’t want to let her go yet.”

“I know buddy, but I think you need this. Take your time, We can stay right here til you’re ready.”

“Oi! Shitty hair! There’s something going on in the city, some bastards tearing up the place. We gotta go!”

“Wait … y/n’s in the city. Getting groceries! Baku …”

“Let’s go call her on the way, we're not far. “

“Bro she’s not answering!”

The scene in front of them was a disaster. How they were able to do this much damage in a short amount of time was beyond them.

“Do you see anything Kiri?”

“I see one by the store! There!” He points. “Someone else is down there.”

30 minutes pass and Kirishima finally gets out of the car , he take a deep breath in and looks at Bakugou who’s now standing next to him.

“Want me to come with you?” He asks.

“Thank you bro, but i think I need to do this myself.” He gave him a weak smile. His first attempt in 2 weeks.

You turn running to the other side of the street distracting the villain from the boy. He raises his hands and electric ropes fly to you, wrapping around your body and neck, small waves of electricity run through you and your neck begins to close. You gasp for air, he’s slowly stopping the air from filling your lungs.  Heroes that were helping secure civilians realize what had quickly conspired. Running towards you and the villain to try to help.

“Let her go!” You hear a familiar voice and you turn looking at your boyfriend’s face and you mouth an I'm sorry. You go limp in front of him. You boyfriend chased in with no regard to his safety; he knew he needed to get to you. Kirishima heard cracking behind him as he hardened and Bakugo let his explosions go off unhinged seeing the scene in front of him. You. His best friend's girlfriend. No this wasn’t happening right now he thought. He has a ring to give her. And his screams were heard within the vicinity and you fell into your boyfriend's arms.

“Baby, baby. It’s going to be ok. I got you now.” He sees the cut in your stomach. The rope from the man torn into you before wrapping abound you. You bring your hand to his face.

“Baby? Is the boy ok?”

“What boy? Sweetheart? Who?” He’s staring into your eyes and he realizes what you had done.

“Make sure he finds his mom ok.” Kirishima is putting pressure on the cut.

“Someone help! I need medical!l”

“Ei, I’m cold.” You curl further into him. “I love you baby, I’m sorry dinner is going to be late today.”

“Gawd princess, don’t worry about dinner, I’m going to get you out of here and I’ll make dinner when I can get you back home ok?” He can’t see from the blur in his eyes and tear steam his dirt covered face.

“Oi! How is she? I got a recovery girl and the medics are almost here.” He runs up and looks down at the scene in front of him and he knows. Bakugo punches the piece of building that fell next to them and with an explosive punch he yells into heaven , pissed they didn’t get here on time.

Kirishima makes it to your headstone, placing his hand to it and he begins to cry. “Why couldn’t it have been me? Why did you have to be so selfless?” He asks, pulling out the little velvet box, opens it and places it on top of the stone. “Supposed to love you til I died, princess. I miss you everyday, it comes in waves and today baby girl, I’m drowning.” 

He sat on the grass covered earth pulling out a hand drawn picture. “I met someone a couple of days ago. He drew you something.” He smiled at the drawing “he said you talked about me and how you helped him be brave”,  he smiled his big toothy grin that hadn’t graced his face since that day. In the picture there was a rubble lined street and it was you with your arms wrapped around a small child with angel wings attached to your back, written on it “MY HERO”

You didn’t have a quirk, you couldn’t stop the villain, your boyfriend’s manly spirit flowed through you and you distracted one bad guy and made sure he didn’t hurt anyone else.

[7team7]

Sharp edges

Mai notices. Zutara from an outsider POV // eventual Zutara, eventual Mailee

A/N: ok hi i love sasusaku fics told from an outsider pov, there are a few really good ones from karin’s perspective so i was like ok sorry mai i will do this LOL (if you’re unfamiliar, karin had feelings for sasuke but he didn’t return them and he married and had a baby with sakura) this is not at all supposed to be The Other Woman type of thing, there’s no cheating, it’s really observations and another way to look at zutara yup! 

.

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Mai stood by Zuko because she knew he was a good man. She knew he cared about her. Her childhood crush on him wasn’t misplaced. 

When she first sensed the distance growing between them, she chalked it up to Fire Lord duties demanding all of his time. But despite his good intentions and traits, he was not in love with her the way he was in love with someone else.  

She first really noticed when he was running around the palace like a komodo chicken with its head cut off while preparing for visitors. Not just any visitors — his old friends from across the nations used the one year anniversary of his coronation as an excuse to get together. She had sensed his loneliness in the way he constantly gazed at the sky, lost in his own thoughts, in the way he sent off pages and pages of letters. But she assumed he yearned for friendship and not romance. She was only one person, she could only give him so much.

The palace was ablaze with activity in the days before the highly anticipated celebration. “Aren’t you excited?” he asked her, looking like a kid on the morning of his birthday. 

His face drooped when he realized, no, of course she wasn’t. They weren’t really her friends, they weren’t here to see her. 

She verbalized her feelings anyway, “Why would I be?” 

“Oh! I forgot to tell you that Ty Lee is coming too. And my sister got cleared by her doctors to join us for a while. That’s something, right?” 

She sighed. He was trying. He always tried his best and that was one of the things that was so endearing about him. “Should be an interesting mix,” she remarked. She excused herself to go lay down and left him to finish hanging the flags of the other nations in the hallway. Even with all his servants doing their best, no one could work fast enough to keep up with his boundless energy. He really was excited, wasn’t he?

Before she rounded the corner to her room, she could’ve sworn she noticed the way he seemed to hold onto the blue Water Tribe fabric just a bit longer. She shook her head. She must have been tired, imagining him run his thumb over the fabric before hanging it. 

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The Gaang arrived noisily as usual. The way they all arrived on time (at noon, peak Zuko energy time) was a little freaky. It seemed no amount of time would mess with their sync. 

A seemingly endless round of hugs was exchanged, everyone chattering excitedly as they caught up with each other and made plenty of nostalgic jokes that you really had to be there for to understand. 

Aang had arrived first, flying in and bowing with exaggerated politeness to “Sifu Hotman” that only served to send both Zuko and himself into a fit of giggles. Two of the world’s most powerful benders were really still kids. 

Toph came stomping in next, wondering aloud if Zuko would change her life today. He gave her an affectionate noogie, and asked, “Haven’t I already?” 

She shoved him, “Don’t go thinking you’re Iroh.” She was happy. 

Sokka would’ve been next had he not been intercepted by Suki. They had their own little reunion on the docks before joining the group. 

So that left Katara to skip up to the palace, leaving her brother behind. Mai could’ve sworn Katara was an airbender when she all but flew through the air when she launched herself at Zuko, arms outstretched for an embrace. 

And Zuko caught her. 

He captured her in a tight hug and spun her around, looking like they hopped straight out of an Ember Island Players romance.  

When her feet met the ground again, the waterbender seemed to grow embarrassed as she quickly turned away from Zuko to greet her other friends. Zuko seemed to reach for her again, but dropped his hands and squeezed them into fists. The smile on his face was just a bit less dazzling than it had been a moment before, even when Sokka came barreling through the scene with a witty comment.  

Mai tilted her head, surveying the situation. To Sokka, he was a fellow swordsman; to Aang, he was a firebending master; to Toph, he was the sibling she never had; he was their friend. To everyone — Suki, Ty Lee, Momo, Appa — he was a friend. 

But who was he to Katara? The question grated on her nerves. It was too loud. She left to check on Azula. 

.

Maybe she was reading into it too much. It wasn’t like Katara had no options: Aang’s feelings for her were obvious. She watched closely to determine if those feelings were reciprocated. Maybe time and distance had changed things.

Katara had suggested going into town to explore the marketplace and Aang jumped up to join her. But then Zuko started droning on and on about the economy and instead of being bored to death like any normal person, she started offering her own suggestions for improving revenue streams and diversifying product offerings. Yawn. 

Aang trailed after then, looking forlorn. Katara had the Avatar hanging on her every word, yet she chose to pay attention to Zuko, her former enemy. That was really something. 

And Zuko, he was listening to her more intently than he ever listened to his aging advisors. 

Mai stayed back. She wasn’t interested in inserting herself. Time and distance only seemed to make Zuko more sure of his feelings, even if he didn’t realize it yet. She would need to reevaluate the situation herself. 

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Mai never felt left out as a nonbender. She had seen the way fire had destroyed her own nation. 

But she had always wished they could spar together. It wasn’t about meeting halfway, she could have easily requested that he use his swords to level the playing field. 

But his identity would always be tied to that of a firebender. He was the Fire Lord, for one thing. He could put down the swords whenever he wanted, but the fire would always be inside him, licking at his insides, smoking its way out in every exhale.  

Fire and water were opposites, but they worked together surprisingly well. Balance, she thought as she lazily twirled a dagger in her hands while watching Zuko and Katara’s sparring session.  

“You’ve improved,” he praised her, clearly impressed. Zuko wore his heart on his sleeve, something he apparently thought Mai should try. Her face pinched in for a split second when Katara’s shining eyes met his. For a waterbender, Katara’s eyes had so much warmth. Like the changing tide, they held a special sort of softness when she looked at Zuko. 

“You have too. But what else would I expect? You’re the Fire Lord now,” she teased. Fighting alongside Zuko had always felt natural, but it was a joy to be able to practice against him now that they weren’t sworn enemies. 

“A Fire Lord who will get rusty if he has to do anymore paperwork,” he grumbled, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

“Well come on. I’m sure paperwork can wait for a little while longer. Can you show me that new move you did at the end?” 

Mai remembered Zuko promising the other benders that they’d get a chance to spar with him too, but that seemed to slip his mind. He eagerly started showing her the forms. Katara picked it up quickly: it was clearly a fusion of water and firebending styles. 

An understanding started developing at the back of her mind: there were things Zuko and Katara had that Zuko and herself could not have. 

The session only ended when Azula came waltzing in, asking if anyone was up for a little fun. 

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Breakfast the next day was held outside to take advantage of the favorable weather. The pleasant breeze coupled with sunshine put everyone in a merry mood. Instead of Zuko sitting at the head of the table in his fancy throne-like chair like he would inside, everyone squished together on two long benches at one table. Mai sat to Zuko’s immediate left, at the edge of the table. 

People like Aang, Sokka, and Toph were driven by hunger and started digging in quickly. Suki had clearly taken a moment to actually get ready because when she took her place next to Sokka, her hair was neater than almost everyone else’s.

Katara came in last, yawning and rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes. Zuko brightened when he saw her, “Katara! I saved you a seat.” He scooted closer to Mai, brushing her side with his, but only so he could make room for Katara. Mai sighed. Why was he so clueless sometimes?

As soon as Katara was settled next to him, Zuko poured her a steaming cup of tea. She gave him a sweet smile in thanks. He pushed a plate towards her, “Here, this one shouldn’t have any fire flakes.” She dug in eagerly, nudging his shoulder with hers in silent happiness while she chewed. Zuko’s body jostled up against Mai’s as a result of being nudged, but he had never felt so far away.

“Anyone else want some tea?” he asked the table. Of course everyone wanted a sip of Iroh’s delicious breakfast brew, so they all said yes. But instead of serving everyone the way he had served Katara only a moment ago, Zuko just passed the teapot across the table so everyone could pour their own cup.

Clueless, truly clueless. 

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“Guess what my silly brother told me when I arrived yesterday? He said, ‘Be nice.’ Ha! As if I would ever imagine being anything but,” Azula cackled. He had pulled her aside when he noticed the way everyone (or really, Katara) hesitated around her. Her unpredictable energy still put everyone on edge. 

“I can hardly believe little ZuZu is the great big Fire Lord now,” she continued. The original trio — Azula, Mai, Ty Lee — were strolling around the city. There wasn’t much to do at the palace until dinner time seeing as Zuko was tied up with his daily meetings. Bureaucracy didn’t stop, even for visitors. 

“I know right. Things are so different now.” She knew what Azula left unsaid: Zuko was Fire Lord and she wasn’t. Mai still wasn’t sure exactly how to go about tending to Azula’s feelings. She was still her friend, but everything had changed so much, there was a much needed distance between them. No matter how bored she was, she would never follow the princess’s every whim again.

“I’ve been told to work on being happy for others. Even if they have what I want, even if I can’t get it. He’s still a dumb dumb, but you know. I’m working on it.” Azula examined her nails as if the conversation was completely casual, but her words held great significance. 

Oh. 

It would take time, but maybe she could work up to being happy for them.

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She waited a day, mulling it over on her own. But she didn’t wait until everyone else went home to end it. Really, why bother? 

“What are you talking about? Why would you leave? Does this mean we’re breaking up?”

She closed her eyes. The pain and confusion written all over his face were making this difficult. “Yes. I’m not the one for you and you’re not the one for me. There’s no reason for me to stay here anymore.” She wasn’t sure where she’d go, but it might be nice to see the world when she wasn’t on a manhunt. 

He spluttered, “But if it’s not us, then who is it?!”

She waved her hand vaguely, “You’ll figure it out.” Even if he wasn’t in love with her the way he was with Katara, he was still emotionally attached. Since he had yet to confront his own feelings, she realized this break up came as quite the shock. But he’d get over it. There was someone who would help him. She was almost positive that he’d go running into her arms momentarily. 

Mai was truthful when she told Azula she loved Zuko more than she feared her. 

Zuko had done a lot of growing up, had gotten so much stronger; she was proud of him for it. But Mai had to come to terms with the fact that Zuko still feared Azula because of her capacity to hurt Katara. He still feared Azula because he loved Katara. 

Katara was so precious to him, he would put his life on the line to save her — he already had. 

That pained Mai to think about, it cut her to the core, it stung so, so badly to be the second choice. But there was nothing she could do. 

How could she compete? The difficulties of a Water Tribe girl being with a Fire Nation boy obviously didn’t matter. They would make it work. 

Conceding defeat to someone like Katara should not be so hard. Bowing out was the graceful thing to do. She wasn’t the type to make a dramatic scene anyway.  

But when she finally walked away, she dug her fingernails deep into her own palms despite it all. Loving Zuko was not so easy to let go of. 

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She returned months later with a slew of Kyoshi Warriors to celebrate Zuko’s birthday and found that Katara had never left. She squeezed Ty Lee’s hand to say I told you so. 

The girl in pink gazed up at her in wonder, “You’re so good at predicting!” 

Mai muttered, “Not that hard when it’s right in front of you.” They were clearly not shy with the displays of affection now that they were officially a couple. 

Ty Lee sighed in contentment when they walked into the palace, “The auras in here are so much happier than they were a few years ago, it feels great!” She turned to poke her girlfriend’s side, “Yours too.” 

“Don’t make me blush,” she murmured. 

“That’s why you like wearing the Kyoshi Warrior makeup, huh? But I know, I always know.” Her tone was light, but it was true. Out of everyone, it was Ty Lee who knew her best, who always stood by her. It was Ty Lee who dealt with her dreariness after breaking up with Zuko, and it was Ty Lee who gave her time and space when she hesitated to step into a new relationship. And Ty Lee was the one who made it worthwhile.

“How are you feeling though?” Ty Lee regarded the other girl carefully. Zuko had been part of her life for so long, it was no simple feat to move on from him. 

“The usual, I’m fine.” Her emotions had always been low key and thankfully, no jealous beast reared its ugly head upon seeing Zuko and Katara together. Really, she was fine.

Ty Lee nodded in satisfaction. She tilted her head thoughtfully, “They look happy, too. I’m happy for them!” Ty Lee might’ve felt it more acutely, but Mai agreed. It was a good feeling, light and sweet and satisfactory. She hoped Azula could feel even a fraction of this relief in her own life. 

It had taken a while for all of them to get to this point, but it was worth it and they were all good. If that wasn’t something to celebrate, she didn’t know what was. 

She finally walked up to him. “Happy birthday, Zuko.” 

“Thank you, Mai. It’s good to see you.”

She nodded at him. It really was good to see him so happy. It didn’t hurt anymore. Letting go of each other didn’t necessarily mean that they had lost. 

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A/N: I chose Mai over aang bc I feel like her quiet nature is just more observant and aang is babie. Also I don’t hate Maiko lol I just. Ship zutara :P I don’t really ship aang with anyone, so he’s j chillin, he has his own happy ending everything is fine 

Please let me know what you think about this one >_< I have a few other zutara things in my wips, plus of course I need to keep updating my sasusaku arranged marriage story, so some of those will come out eventually. Couldn’t keep up with zutara week or ss month but its ok!