#things I did not notice on first viewing: someone has kNITTED a MOUSE

[onelungmcclung]

[zoocross0vers]

Raspberries Challenge #10: 101 Dalmatians

Raspberries Challenge #10: 101 Dalmatians

                                          101 Funnies and Boxes

My story begins in Zootopia, not too long ago. And yet so much has happened since then that it feels more like an eternity, a bored male voice narrated as the sounds of uninspired romantic piano music came from the second floor window of a tall beige apartment complex. At that time, I lived alone in a bachelor pad just off of Cypress Grove Lane. It was a beautiful spring day. Real terrible time of the year for bachelors.

Oh! That’s me, said the internal voice as he sat at a piano. The narrator in question was a slender red fox with a black tail tip and the most handsome emerald green eyes. He wrote notes and tested new keys to try to get the right melody, Nick. Nick Wilde, he introduced himself, I’m a musician of sorts. Nick tried a new rhythm that he had written down. He smiled, believing it sounded good until he realized it was just the same uninspired, repetitive theme he had already been playing.

He groaned, dropping his forehead frustratingly over several keys on the piano, causing the large musical instrument to create a loud shrill sound. That’s it! He gives up.

Nick slumped on his swivel chair and turned to face away from his piano, feeling greatly uninspired to write or play anything. He miserably viewed his surroundings. His small apartment, a complete mess -- it screamed stereotypical messy, single male at every corner. Nick sighed at the mess, You know, as far as I could see the old notion that a bachelor’s life was so...glamorous and carefree was all one big fat lie. It was downright dull. Nick stretched and yawned, only to slump back on his seat.

Yeah...I’m pretty sure it was plain to see that I needed someone. I had been a bachelor for...well pretty much since forever at this point. I’d been married to my work and I wrote songs about romance, which to be fair was a subject I knew absolutely nothing about. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a few flings in my youth but never anything serious. Nick looked to a pile of entertainment and clothing store magazines next to him and picked one up. It depicted a pretty red vixen in a purple nightgown. He stared at it with a smile and opened it to the female clothing section to view other pictures of other gorgeous female mammals of varying species.

It was at that moment that I thought, ‘why don’t I just settle down?’ It’d be just the inspiration I need for my work. And besides, I’m a pretty good-looking guy. I’m a smart catch too. There’s no reason I can’t get a cute girl like the ones in these magazines. Nick shifted his gaze back down to the pile of magazines and noticed another magazine with a beautiful female rabbit in a pink and green teddy on the cover. He immediately picked it up with intrigue and gave the image a flirty growl. Plus, I’m not picky when it comes to species. I’m willing to marry outside my kind if it’s the right girl.

With a new rejuvenated sense of life, Nick jumped off his swivel chair and ran to peek out his apartment window. The question was, where to start looking? Nick gazed out the window, paying attention to every young female that walked down the street. At the moment, only a young eligible female elephant and mouse passed by his street. Nick grimaced, Hmm. I’m not picky with species, but I’m pretty sure she should at least be near my size in order to count. Don’t want her too small that I could crush her or too big that she’d crush me.

Nick shook his head, wanting to get that last image out of his head. Just then, a more appropriately sized female made her way around the corner. Ah, here comes a good one. Nick saw that it was a very lanky, very plain looking red vixen with a slouchy gait. She wore glasses and a black beret -- an artist of sorts -- a painter by the looks of it. Hmm, pretty unusual breed for a vixen. He chuckled as the more he watched her, the more he found her unique gait rather comical. Very unusual…...nah. He shook his head. Though her outward appearance said artist, she just didn’t seem like the type of artist that could inspire him.

He turned his attention to the next oncoming girl, a portly pig in a brown pencil skirt business suit and cap. She had golden locks of hair sticking out right from under her cap. Well, what’ve we here? Nick observed her as she walked swaying her all too large hips side to side, causing Nick to primarily lay his focus on her lower back and rump. Hmm...well I like big hips, but...maybe those are a little too big. Giving it another thought, he reached his conclusion, Nope.

Onto the next oncoming girl, Whoa! Nick gasped with wide eyes, his jaw falling at the sight of a gorgeous and voluptuous, fancy looking arctic vixen. By the looks of her expensive opaque lavender coat and matching puff of a hat, a financially well endowed vixen at that! Look at that knockout! Now that’s a fancy vixen if I ever saw one! he thought in excitement. At the moment he thought he had finally found the mate he was looking for, but...upon further inspection of the vixen and her high nose posture, the more he began to question exactly how good of a match they would be. Surely she would not want a struggling musician like himself for a husband, plus given her demeanor and pursed lips, she really didn’t look very approachable. In fact she looked pretty snobbish and like she’d very perfectly live up to the literal definition of a ‘vixen’.

Nick’s excitement died out as did his attraction toward the vixen. Hmm...maybe she’s a little too fancy. He gazed at the vixen once more to confirm, Yeah, too fancy for my taste.  

Nick looked back down to the street, his tone somewhat defeated as if losing hope in his venture for a wife. His deflated mood only worsened when he saw the next two candidates passing by. The first one was an old jittery goat riding her bike down the street while the second was a small juvenile skunk in a yellow dress licking a large swirled lollipop. Too old, too young. Nick mumbled internally in defeat.

Nick sighed discouraged and slumped his cheek on the palm of his paw, This was going to be tougher than I thought. A lot tougher. Nick shifted his gaze back down, hopeless and with very little interest now.

Until...

His eyes caught view of something and he had to shake his head to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t dreaming -- as at that very moment, making her way around the corner was another candidate -- perhaps, the candidate! Nick’s ears stood on end with intrigue and he smiled wide just as his long canid tongue stuck out in joy -- reminiscent to a happy puppy. His tail wagged in excitement, Well, now that’s more like it! The most beautiful creature on two legs!! Nick exclaimed in his mind as he gazed in wonder and admiration at a lovely young female rabbit with beautiful gray and white fur and gorgeous decorative black tips atop her long soft ears that hung low behind her shoulders. From what he could see, she had just the cutest pink button nose he had ever seen -- though he’d never tell her that -- lest he’d risk making her, a rabbit, angry by calling her ‘cute’.

She wore a beige colored, flared skirt business suit and matching hat with a decorative yellow sunflower on the side of her hat. Her features fair and soft, telling him that she was of a very gentle nature. In her arms she carried a small book -- an interest in literature could be a sign of a smart, creative girl in his wake! She was almost too good to be true! I’d never find another girl like that even if I had to look for her for a hundred years!

Not wanting to lose sight of her, Nick ran to the other window at the top of his small stairway. He caught sight of her, Ah, she’s heading for the park! A perfect meeting place! Now if I could only find her there. Nick grabbed his coat and hat, ready to run out the door, but stopped short as he glanced at his clock. Uh-oh. I almost forgot, I can’t ruin my work schedule. I don’t stop playing ‘til after five. But then, that’ll be too late and I’ll lose her. Hustling himself, Nick readjusted the time on his clock from 4:34 to 5:13pm. He smiled proud, There we go. Problem solved! He chuckled and ran out, excited to reach the park and win the heart of his new fair bunny.  

.

Nick sped walked through the park, practically jogging through it in search of the gray bunny. It almost seemed hopeless. The park was huge and full of mammals. She could’ve been anywhere!

Nick could somewhat see someone in the distance wearing a brownish-beige suit and hat. Could it be her?

He jogged over as fast as he could, but when he got close enough he sadly realized that it wasn’t her. It was the pig he had seen earlier in the brown business suit. She just sat there, knitting something and minding her own business.  

Nick sighed disappointedly and continued on his way. He kept his eyes peeled and shifted his gaze every which way in search of the rabbit.

He crossed the park’s bridge hovering over a body of water and spotted another familiar face. It was the lanky red vixen from before. She sat by the lake shore just painting a canvas of the scenery before her.

Nick huffed, growing anxious. Where could she be?!

He hurried off the bridge and continued on his way, but was stopped in his tracks when some giggling children, two young lambs and a bunny, zipped right in front of him. Two girl lambs ran with a jump rope in their hooves and the young male bunny rolled on some four wheeled roller skates. Nick sighed in annoyance and continued on his way after they crossed his path.

His anxiousness was quickly turning into despair as there was still no sign of the bunny. At first I was afraid I’d missed her, he narrated in thought, Maybe she strolled right through the park.

Nick continued with his rushed pace, passing by a path between two bushes. He quickly peeked in and took a few more steps forward when he froze in his tracks -- his brain catching up with his sight. He peered back in to ensure he wasn’t seeing things. He smiled wide.

Then suddenly, I spotted her!

The gray bunny sat on a bench suited for a mammal of her size and with a perfect view of the lake -- a perfectly romantic view that is. Nick wagged his tail. He couldn’t have set this scene any better even if he tried!

Now the question was how to get her attention? She seemed awfully preoccupied with her book as she turned another page. He didn’t want to be rude and interrupt her, but he did want to find a way to start up a conversation with her. Whatever he did, he had to be smart in his approach. Polite. Smooth. Suave. Confident.

Alright Nick, Nick thought to himself as he took in a heavy gulp, You can do this! The bachelor fox took a deep breath and poised his nose up and strolled before the bunny with a confident gait.

As Nick passed her by, the bunny curiously lifted her gaze up from her book to him. She followed his every move as she saw him take a seat at the other end of the bench she was at. Nick kept his gaze forward for a few seconds, pretending to mind his own business.

He then glanced over to her -- curious if she had noticed him at all. The minute he looked toward her, their eyes met. It was only for a second however, as the bunny immediately blushed in embarrassment that she was caught staring at him and quickly buried her nose back into her book.

Nick looked away from her as well, but with a smile. She noticed him! And boy are her eyes just the most beautiful shade of amethyst purple he had ever seen! For a moment it seemed to have worked. At least she'd seen me. Now if I could only start up a conversation with her... Nick rubbed his neck and casually shifted his gaze toward her once more -- his focus landing on her book -- it was Jane Mouseten’s “Pride and Prejudice”. That’s it! He thought in excitement. He had his ice breaker! Plus it was a book he had read before and really liked! It was perfect!

Alright, it’s now or never Wilde. Nick shut his eyes and cleared his throat with a light tug at his shirt collar. He turned his body towards her, his eyes still shut as he opened his mouth to utter his first syllable. He had only managed a breath when he opened his eyes and realized -- She’s gone! Nick’s jaw dropped as he gazed at the now empty spot where the bunny sat. He looked up and saw that she was already a few feet away, walking along the path beside the lake.

No… Nick thought miserably. Had he really just lost his opportunity to talk to her? His ears fell in defeat until, out of fate or sheer luck, the bunny’s loosely placed book, plopped right out of her purse.

Nick smiled wide, “Thank you!” he whispered gratefully to the sky with his paws clasped together in a prayer position. Without a second thought, the fox quickly lept into action to retrieve her book from the ground. Once in his paws, he smiled confidently. There was no way he could mess this up now -- he’d give the book back to her and then segway into a conversation about it until he’d find the right moment to ask her out.

The fox adjusted his hat forward, determined. Nothing could stop him now! He cleared his throat and jogged forward, “Excuse me miss?” he called out to the bunny in the distance, “You forgot your book!” Lost in the bunny ahead and in his determination to reach her, the fox failed to notice an abandoned pair of roller skates in his path. “Miss? Mi--Aaaaahh!!!”

Accidentally stepping on one, Nick was propelled forward down the sloping path -- much, much faster than he had intended to move! Along the way he came across the children from before, playing jump rope right in the middle of the walkway. “Waaaahhhh!” Nick crashed right in the middle of their jump rope, yanking it right out of the hooves of the two little lambs and taking it along with him.

“Look out!” he called out as he realized he was about to crash into his lady bunny. The bunny turned just in time to see Nick crash right into her. She let out a loud yelp as before either of them knew it -- they were both entangled to one another with the jump rope.

“Oh! Sweet cheese and--!” the bunny cried out in shock as she found herself pressed up against the fox.

Nick blushed, both in embarrassment and of the fact that he was pressed up against her. “I-I’m really sorry! I-I didn’t mean to--”

“What on earth!” the bunny cried again as both she and the fox tried to pull themselves free from the rope’s grasp. Both mammals struggled and rocked back and forth, unaware that the more they moved, the more they began to move toward the lake.

Before they knew it, “Whoaa! Whoa, whoa! WHOAAAA!!!”

SPLASH!

The two fell into the lake, finally becoming untangled from one another, but both soaked to the bone!

They landed side by side -- Nick kicking his legs up in an attempt to sit up, while the drenched bunny sat and coughed.

Nick lifted the sopping wet brim of his hat from his eyes to see her. He watched as she shivered both in embarrassment and from the cold of the water. He placed an embarrassed paw over his snout, guilt drenching him more than the water, Oh boy, did I mess up big time, he groaned internally.

The trembling bunny looked down at herself, completely mortified and near the brink of tears in sheer embarrassment. “M-My new spring suit,” she stammered, “A-And m-my new hat!” She pointed to her hat that was slowly floating away from her with the water’s gentle current.

Overwhelmed with guilt and desperate to make things right, Nick stood up and quickly waddled over to fetch her hat. “D-Don’t worry I’ll get it for you!” In his rush and because he couldn’t see much given the brim of his soaked hat covering his eyes, he lost his footing, grabbing the bunny’s hat but landing belly and face first against the water.

SPLASH!

The gray bunny yelped and took cover behind her small arms as water splashed against her. She gasped, wiping the excess water from her face. Nick surfaced from beneath the water and instinctually shook himself to dry off some of the water. “H-Hey!” She took cover with her arms once more as some stray droplets flew her way.

Uh-oh, Nick thought, immediately seizing his actions. Way to go Wilde, if I wasn’t dead in her eyes before, then I really am now. “I’m sorry! I-I really didn’t mean to--It’s just my insti--Here, let me help you up.” Nick said as he gently placed his paws underneath her arms to stand her up and escort her off the lake and onto the dry bank. “I don’t know what happened back there,” he tried to explain as he placed her soaked hat over her head, accidently causing more water to stream down her face. “I-I was just walking along the path, and then there was this roller skate, and then there were these kids and a jump rope, a-and I-I…”

“Oh, nevermind, nevermind!” retorted the shivering bunny, not wanting to hear another word from him.

Watching her shiver, Nick chivalrously removed his red coat and placed it over her shoulders in an attempt to keep her warm -- not that it would do much good given the equally soaked state of the coat. The embarrassed bunny flinched from his touch, pulling away from him, the coat still on her shoulders, “Please just go away! You’ve done enough!”

Nick felt his heart in pain -- broken, before he could’ve even gotten the chance to know her. His normally bright emerald eyes dimmed in shame. His ears fell back. He blew it...

Despite not wanting anything more to do with him, the gray bunny still sought warmth from his coat, tugging at the lapel with one paw to better adjust it at her shoulders while her other paw brought her purse up to fish for something inside it.

Though the brim of his hat kept slouching over his eyes, Nick could still see how upset she was as she dug into her purse. “I...,” he spoke, compelled to say something to her, “I know you probably don’t want anything more to do with me, but...I’m really, really sorry--”

“Please...” groaned the bunny as she pulled out a hankie from her purse, hoping to use it to dry herself, “Please just--” she stopped in shock when she saw that her hankie was just as equally soaked as she was.  

Ever the gentlemammal, Nick immediately dug into his back pocket and pulled out a red handkerchief. “Here, take mine.”

The gray bunny’s jaw dropped when she saw the state of his hankie. It too was drenched. She didn’t know why, but for some reason just seeing the state of his hankie brought a humored smile to her face. She stifled a breathy chuckle but then allowed herself to laugh wholeheartedly as she pointed at the soaked handkerchief.

Though at first in shock at hearing her laugh, Nick quickly followed suit and began to laugh as well. Perhaps it was simply because he was relieved that she was no longer sad but smiling. Perhaps she found his attempts to be a gentlemammal sweet and adorable. Or perhaps it was the humor of the the entire situation finally just hit them. After all, had they been on the outside looking in, everything that happened to them would’ve been pretty hilarious! Mostly given how silly they looked.

Whatever the reason, Nick was just happy to know that she was okay and no longer angry at him.

Their laughter began to die out after a while, but their smiles remained. Nick removed his hat to wring it dry. The gray bunny giggled at how much water poured out from it. Nick chuckled as well. “Hey, I--I really am sorry about everything. I didn't mean to knock you into the lake.”

“It's okay,” she said with a smile. “You're the fox from before, right? The one who was sitting next to me on the bench?”

“Yeah,” Nick said with light wag of his tail, delighted to hear that she did notice him!

The bunny giggled, noticing his tail. “So...does the fox responsible for tangling me up and knocking me into the lake have a name?”

“Indeed he does,” Nick offered her his paw, “Wilde. Nick Wilde.” The bunny took his paw and shook it in greeting. “And does the lovely bunny have a name?”

The bunny hummed happily with a blush. “Hopps. Judy Hopps,” she responded in kind.

“Judy,” Nick echoed her name. It was a name he never, ever wanted to forget. They smiled at one another just as Judy's book floated over and bumped against the bank where they stood. “Huh?” Nick looked down to it, “Oh! I almost forgot…” Nick reached down to fish the book out, “Here,” he said handing it to her. “You uh, you accidentally dropped it when you were walking on the path. I was actually trying to get it back to you in one piece until a lone roller skate decided I was in serious need of a bath.”

Judy couldn't help but giggle, admiring his sense of humor. “I guess you weren’t the only one in need of a bath seeing how I fell in too. But thank you for returning it, nonetheless. This is actually my favorite book.” Judy responded with a sweet and appreciative smile as she held the book close to her heart.

“Really? Well then you have good taste Judy. I remember back in high school I hated reading, but this was the first book I actually managed to read all the way through.”

“So I take it you liked it?” Judy asked with a curious interest.

“Believe it or not, it's what got me into composing romantic melodies.”

“You're a musician?” the bunny asked, her ears perked up with intrigue.

“Yup! Er...well, sort of an up and coming piano composer,” he said with a twinge of embarrassment and a nervous rub to the back of his neck, “I haven't composed anything noteworthy yet. Guess I've just been waiting to find the right inspiration.” He gave the bunny a gentle smile.

“And have you found it yet?” the bunny asked curiously.

Nick met her eyes, as if searching for an answer within those gorgeous and sympathetic amethyst pools of hers. “Yeah…” he breathed with a mesmerized certainty, “I think I have.”

Judy smiled, bashfully lowering her gaze, as if somehow knowing that she was the newfound inspiration he was referring to.

Feeling emboldened, Nick decided to leap into the frey, “Hey listen Judy, I don't know if I’m being too forward but, seeing how we’re both soaked to the bone and very likely to catch colds if we don't warm up soon... would you...like to get a coffee with me?”

“I’d love to, Nick,” Judy said with a smile. Nick returned her sweet smile with one of his own. Both of them happy and aware that this was simply the beginning of something more growing between them.

[honeylikewords]

agent andy’s super secret, super special, super spy romance-love-extravaganza mission! (andy dwyer)

(this was not really a request, but just a spur-of-the-moment work! it’s dedicated to my lovely friend @regrettablewritings!)

(the basic plot is Andy doing what he does best- being goofy and loveable! but this time, in pursuit of a lovely lady friend’s attentions! will he succeed? will he fail? will he eat chili dogs? find out below!)

(warnings: none!)

yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm and your cheeks so soft there is nothing for me, but to love you and the way you look tonight you look hot tonight... 

Andy likes a lot of things. Top five favorite things in the world? Well, that list depends on what day you ask him, when in the day you ask him, how hungry he is, what the last TV show he watched is, if he’s seen any cool dogs that day-

To say the least, Andy is both the most fickle and most loyal man in all of Pawnee. His tastes are both constant and assured while also shifting with the rapidity of the winds of a hurricane. He’s all over the place, like a hyperactive puppy in a room full of chew toys.

But the one thing he consistently likes, always, all the time, every day, every night, and every evening in-between is the girl who works as an intern in the Pawnee Municipal Hall of Records. 

Her office is on the second floor and Andy likes to pretend to have a “shoe shine-ist appointment” with someone in the city clerk’s office so he can have a reason to wander up to the second floor and walk past the door to the room where she works.

Today is a Wednesday, which means Andy has his lucky boxers on from when the Colts won against the Cowboys, and his special blue-checkered flannel shirt which his mother told him makes him look “adult for once”, which is a very nice compliment, in his opinion. Before heading upstairs, he stands in front of the bathroom mirror in the men’s room and combs his hair over as neatly as he can with his big hands, smiling at himself.

He has a Food And Stuff grocery bag with him which rests on the lip of the sink as he finishes slicking his unruly hair into place, and he clears his throat in the mirror, practicing his most adult, suave smile; the one where all his teeth are visible but not in a creepy way, and one eyebrow is raised in what he believes to be a seductive manner. He makes a small growl between his teeth and practices what he’s going to say to the girl.

“Why hello-oo, my lady,” he drawls, bowing slightly in the mirror. “You’re looking very… lovesome today.” Nice, he thinks to himself. Sexy, but not too sexy.

“May I ask for you- thou-” he corrects himself- “-To join me uponth this, um… evening… to dinner?”

As he’s trying to formulate what he’ll do when she answers him, a stall door behind him opens and Ben walks out, looking at Andy with confusion written into his furrowed brow. Andy blushes, a little embarrassed, and glares at Ben.

“Bro,” he chides, “You can’t just walk in on me while I’m practicing!”

“But I- I was in here before-” Ben stumbles over himself, looking around in flustered panic, then seems to give up with a sigh. “Yeah, sorry, didn’t mean to burst your bubble there, Andy. Go ahead, pretend I was never here.”

“Well, I can’t really do that, seeing as how I can still see you and I remember you being here so… now I have to wipe my brain and start all over.” Andy turns back to the mirror and watches Ben leave, exasperatedly mumbling to himself as he walks out into the hallway.

When the room is finally clear, Andy stands up in the mirror and takes one last look at himself. He looks at his beard- thankfully, he trimmed it last week so it’s not scraggly or full of Cheetos particles (well, at least, not as many Cheeto particles as before)- and then looks at his face. He looks into his own hazel eyes, the ones that squint a little but still seem so wide and excited. He flashes himself a giddy smile when he thinks about what he’s about to do, and his whole aura seems to grow brighter.

He feels the warm, glowy feeling inside his stomach and chest, the one that tingles down into his fingertips and toes and a little into his butt; the feeling that makes his heart feel like he’s just watched the Colts win the Superbowl, or just played a great show with Mouse Rat. The feeling in his heart that he gets when he thinks about her, and the way she looks when she smiles back at him, or how she gets so focused on her files at her desk and her eyebrows knit together in that cute way.

Deciding that he’s ready, Andy nods at himself in the mirror and says his last words of the pep talk he’s been giving himself in his head.

“You got this, Dwyer. And if you don’t, then Burt Macklin’s got it. And if he doesn’t got it, then, uhm, Johnny Karate’s got it. And if he- oh, nevermind. You’ve got this.”

He grins wide, then ducks out of the bathroom, grabbing his Food And Stuff bag as he makes for the stairs, heart pitter-pattering as frantically as it does when he’s done too many jumping jacks or tried to eat too many hamburgers at once. Reaching the top of the steps, Andy takes a deep breath, both to calm himself and because he did actually get a little winded. Once reassured of his ability to breathe, Andy makes his way to the door to the Hall of Records.

Stopping just before the door, Andy peeks his head, nose resting on the edge of the doorframe in what he thinks is a sneaky, subtle spying position. He can see her clear as day, and the sight of her brings an unintentional smile to his face and makes his childlike heart flutter happily.

She is illuminated from behind by the open windows, the ones streaming in the summer sunlight and warm breeze. A portable fan sits on the corner of her desk, blowing cool air onto her face and stirring up with wispy hairs that frame her pretty eyes, and Andy makes a happy sigh to himself when she adjusts her seat in her chair, turning so that he can see more of her face.

Her eyes are focused on an open file on her desk, one that she is tracing over with a highlighter, and Andy follows the movements of her hands with rapt attention, forgetting his awkward stance in the doorway. He instead watches her do all her little things, the tiny, miniscule motions that would go unnoticed to anyone that didn’t absolutely, wholeheartedly, entirely love her.

He notices how her fingers tap on the bridge of the highlighter. He notices how her other hand supports her neck, loosely rubbing at the baby hairs at the back of her head as she gives herself a small neck massage. He notices the movement of her eyes and the blinking of her lashes, and how her lips part when she breathes. He notices the tapping of her practical-shoed feet under the desk, and how her ankles cross to keep her comfortable in the office chair. Andy sees it all, and tucks it away in the special part of his brain that never forgets.

Andy may have been called a lot of things- things like birdbrained, a goldfish, a dumb sack of rocks- but he does remember things. Important things. Like the 1992 lineup for the Indianapolis Indians. And all the police procedures he’d read about. And his dog’s birthday. And this girl’s middle name, favorite foods, the way she takes her coffee (and how she takes her tea on the days when coffee makes her feel sick), and the movies she wants to see this summer.

He remembers everything about her because it matters to him. All the other stuff that he forgets? Bah, that’s stuff that he doesn’t care about. But all these teeny-tiny things about her mean the world to him, so he will never, ever forget them.

Just as he’s about to make his happy, lovestruck smile as he remembers the first time they’d ever spoken, she looks up from her work and meets his eye. And he’s a goner. He grins at her, making a wave as he silently mouths “watch this!”

Which is when he tucks himself in to do an army roll down the hall, moving across the doorway without entering. He hears her sit up and lean across the desk, calling “Andy?” nervously. He reaches into his grocery bag and grabs the first item: a paper airplane.

From his position on his stomach on the floor, Andy sticks his head back into the doorway and squints one eye as he lines up the paper airplane, then tosses it right at her desk, grinning wildly. He waits and watches her catch it, then rolls back out of her line of view.

“Andy, what’s-” “SHH!”

He rolls back in only to hold his finger over his lips, playfully shushing her. He points at the airplane then motions for her to open it up, smiling the whole time.

“We can’t talk,” he whispers. “The scene’s been compromised by Russian agents!”

She blinks at him, then smiles, rolling her eyes but nodding along, opens the airplane. Andy waits to watch her reaction, nervous butterflies bursting in his stomach. Her eyes scan over the page, reading over his messy scribble in Sharpie that reads “Do You Accept This Mission, Secret Agent Codename: Beautiful Mess?”

When she looks up, Andy feels his face get hot, and his armpits feel sweaty, and suddenly he wishes he was a million miles away, not laying here on the dusty tiles of the second floor of the Pawnee City Hall building. But then she smiles and nods, giving him a silent thumbs up, and he grins, floating on cloud nine.

He fishes into his bag and grabs the hard plastic of a CD case, then slides it across the floor to her. She stops it with her shoe and leans down to grab it from under her desk, reading the label he’s put on it.

“PLAY ME,” screams the CD. She pops it out of the case and slips it into the CD-ROM port on her office computer, eyeing him with a wry smile on her lips. He grins back, watching her for even the slightest hint of her feelings.

She clicks her mouse and opens the program to play the CD, and out of her speakers comes Andy’s own voice, blasting as he had leaned too close to the microphone.

“Agent Beautiful Mess,” Andy mumbles in his most serious spy voice, “I have a very important mission for you. A VIP mission. Very Important… Pizza… (no, shit),” he had whispered. “(What’s a good P word, Derek?)” A second voice from elsewhere in the room at the time of recording chimed in. “Pepperoni.” “No, a spy word!”

Andy blushes as he realizes that he did not edit his conversation with Derek out of the recording that he has just gifted to the girl he has a massive, huge, soul-smashing crush on. But as the embarrassment floods his face, Andy watches hers, and sees that she doesn’t look annoyed, or pissed off, or bored.

She looks… happy.

She starts to giggle, covering her mouth with one hand as she listens to Andy and Derek bicker back and forth about the best word that starts with P to include in the description. After about two minutes of unresolved sniping, Andy gave up and went back to his original intent in the recording.

“ANYWAY,” he announced. “The mission is… to gather all the tools from Agent Jean Claude Van Damme- that’s not the real Jean Claude Van Damme, by the way, but the codename for me- and then accomplish the mission that will be handed to you in the final tool. Good luck… this message will self destruct in five… four… three… two… one… KA-BLOOSH, BUH-SHEW, BLAM BLAM BLAM, BBBBRRRR-”

After the recording stops playing Andy’s homemade explosion sound effects, the girl behind the desk looks at Andy, shaking her head playfully, a massive smile plastered to her face. That smile makes Andy feel dizzier than a case of shoeshine head.

He grins back at her, as happy as a kindergartener at recess. She motions for him to slide her the next “tool to her mission” and he happily reaches into the Food And Stuff bag, pulling out a bag of Skittles and a bag of Starbursts.

Andy throws them to her, both bags managing to land on her desk. They are labeled “PART ONE” and “PART TWO”, and the Starbursts bag has a sticky note on it.

“COMBINE ONE SECRET PILL WITH TWO TABLETS TO CREATE THE POWER SERUM,” reads the note.

She starts laughing, and Andy can’t help but join her. He ignores the annoyed stares of strangers walking past him in the hallway, focused only on her happy smile, and the way her voice sounds as it bounces up and down with joy. When she stops laughing, Andy points at the bags and uses his hands to gesture to her the act of opening and eating, so she does it.

She takes out two Starbursts and a Skittle and smushes them together in the right way, making a little sandwich with the Skittle in the middle, properly forming “Andy’s Mouth Surprise”. When she’s completed it, she holds it up and wiggles it at him, showing him her accomplishment. He gives her an enthusiastic thumbs up, then signs to her to eat it, making oversized chewing motions with puffed out cheeks and an exaggerated swallow.

Following suit, she eats the candy, taking her time chewing it and choking a little as she laughs at Andy’s ridiculous expressions. When she’s done, she holds her arms up and flexes like a WWE wrestler, showing off her guns. Andy silently applauds, and when she winks at him, his stomach explodes with lovey-dovey fireworks.

Andy crawls into a kneeling position and reaches into the bag for the final object, throwing it at her feet with reckless abandon. God, he hopes with works. He crosses his fingers and watches her confusedly look down at the mass of feathers and hot glue currently on her desk.

He has hot glued two plastic birds from Food And Stuff together, the tips of their wings fused as if they are holding hands. To the legs of one of the birds he has tied a note, which she unspools and reads, her face going from incredulous smile to a softer, more surprised expression.

The tension comes back into Andy’s muscles, and he can feel his chest and stomach and arms and palms start to sweat and itch with anxiety. The bad feelings make him sweaty, and he’s so worried that she’ll say no that he doesn’t know what to do except crouch in the doorway, forgetting his superspy routine to just watch her.

His fingers fidget with the drawstrings of his shoeshine apron as he remembers the words he’s written for her.

“Agent Beautiful Mess:

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is…

…

…

To go…

With Agent Jean Claude Van Damme…

On a romantical date…

Today, or tomorrow, or whatever works for your schedule. Agent Van Damme is very flexible and has, like, nothing to do after work, so he can do whatever you’re down for whenever.

Sincerely, love,

Agent JCVD.

(P.S. this is Andy.)”

She’s too quiet, Andy worries, picking at the loose threads of the apron. She’s not reacting or saying anything. She’s just re-reading the words, and Andy can feel his once-light heart sinking to the bottom of his sneakers. He should’ve known. No girl like that- smart, pretty, kind, funny, and super hot and also good at pretty much everything she does- would ever look at a stooge like him. And he’s not even a funny stooge, like Larry, Moe and Curly. He’s just a regular stooge.

But then she picks up the fused birds, admiring them for a moment before gently kissing the head of one of the birds. Oddly enough, it’s the bird that Andy thought of as himself, making the other bird her. She sets the birds down and scoots back her chair from the desk, standing up, and Andy stands up too, nervous.

He says nothing as she comes up to him, and as he stands at his full height of 6’2”, he suddenly realizes how small she feels next to him. And he realizes how much he likes that. Andy wants to pick her up and carry her in his arms in a big, tight hug: one that would never let her go.

She looks up at him with her soft, sweet eyes, and Andy swallows a thick lump in his throat, his breath coming in shorter.

“Are you mad?”

Looking taken aback, the girl Andy has fallen for puts a hand to her chest, shaking her head.

“No, no, Andy, why would you think that?”

“Well, you didn’t say anything and when people don’t say anything I get really worried and then I start talking a lot because I feel like I have to so that other people don’t get worried too and I really want you to like me because I really like you in a romantic kinda way and I wanna hold your hand and-”

She presses up on her tiptoes and puts her plush lips to his, and Andy suddenly can’t remember anything in the world except that she feels exactly like how he’d hoped she would. She’s supple and smooth and smells amazing (a little sweaty from the summer heat, a little floral from her shampoo, and a lot like sugar-fruits from the candy), and her mouth tastes like Starbursts and Skittles and his daydreams.

When they break, her hands remain on his chest and his grip her waist, his head spinning faster than the tilt-a-whirl at the county fair that he’d thrown up on back in eighth grade. He can’t breathe, but instead just stands there, frozen.

One of his hands moves up to her face, thick thumb parsing over the hill of her cheek as he cups her jaw. His fingers touch her hair and he stares at her, mouth hanging open. He can’t stop studying her face, because he doesn’t want to forget a single instant of this amazing, life-changing moment. He wants to remember every detail; he wants to remember every hair on her head, every spot on her face, every lash around her eyes, every breath out of her. He wants to remember everything in vivid Technicolor forever and ever, and store it away in the special part of his brain that never, ever, ever forgets.

“Andy? Are you- did I upset you?”

Her voice crackles with concern, and Andy’s reverie breaks; he’s been quiet for too long. He’s made her worry, just like he worried over her. Damn.

“No way. No way, not ever, no- I- would you- can you do that again?”

She giggles, putting her own hand on his beardy cheek and scratching it softly (in the back of his mind, Andy imagines that this must be why dogs love being petted). Looking up at him, she nods and stands up on her tiptoes again, hovering just over his mouth.

“You kiss me this time,” she murmurs. “Just so I know I’m not, like, forcing myself on you.”

“Wouldn’t mind even if you did,” Andy replies dreamily.

And then he kisses her back, one hand holding her face and pulling her in close, one hand on her waist to keep her steady and stable. He doesn’t care that they’re in a government building and could very likely get scolded hardcore for this. He doesn’t care that anyone could walk by and see them. Hell, he hopes someone does, so that way everyone knows: Andy got the girl of his dreams. He’s got her, right there, in his arms, her lips on his lips, and he doesn’t intend to let go.

They part for a second time, and Andy feels dizzy, but in a good way, like after he’s taken medicine for his cold and he’s fuzzy and sleepy and warm. He feels contentedly feverish, and like everything in the world makes sense. He feels like he could write a hundred and one love songs and still have ideas for a hundred and one more. Or maybe just a hundred, since two hundred and two love songs is a lot. But he’d love her even more than the words of two hundred and two (give or take) love songs could ever convey.

“So,” he breathes, giggling. “Is that… a yes to the date?”

“Yeah,” she smiles back. “Yeah, it definitely is.”

In that moment, Andy doesn’t need to be a spy, an FBI agent, a ninja or anything else to be happy. He has everything he needs right there in his arms, looking back up at him with the same excited, gleeful glimmer in her eyes.

And, wow, is she beautiful.

[wanna-see-my-lease]

Confession

Masterlist

Show: NCIS: New Orleans

Summary: Sometimes, when the worst thing can happen it starts a new chapter in your life.

Pairing: Dwayne Pride x Reader

Warnings: Angst, blood, you know the normal from me, and of course fluff.

Word Count: 1,826

Request: Not a request

A/N:  So I’ve watched all of season one, and half way through season 2, and I thought that I would give it a shot. I haven’t written NOLA yet, but really want to try. I do hope that you enjoy this little one shot.

XoX

Being the target of someone was never fun, especially when that someone knows your every move. The first time you spotted your ex was when he showed up standing across from NCIS. You and LaSalle were heading out to learn things from a lead. The second time was when Pride was dropping you off at home. But it escalated from there.

You noticed him another night when you were at Pride’s bar after closing a case.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.” Your ex said walking up and grabbing you by the wrist.

“Hey! That ain’t no way to treat a lady.” LaSalle said, standing up sizing up your ex. He didn’t like the way someone just up and grabbed your wrist, and was always a little protective of you, as he viewed you as one of his best friends.

You shook your head. “It’s alright Chris,” You commented, as you pulled your wrist from your ex’s grip. “John, you can’t be here. There’s nothing to talk about.” You tried to keep the situation calm as, you knew both men every well. It would only take one stupid comment from John and things would escalate.

“Y/N, baby, please.” John begged as he glanced at LaSalle and back to you. “I just want to talk to you, to see you again.”

“Is everythin’ ah’lright?” Pride asked walking over to the group, and placed his arm around your shoulders. He could tell that things were one step from erupting into something as the tension in the air was thick.

John looked from you to Pride and frowned. “We’ll talk later.” He said in a harsh tone and walked out of the bar.

“What was that all about?” Brody asked, frowning as she watched your ex leave.

Leaning into your boss and boyfriend you shook your head. “My ex from a few years ago. Every once in a while, he shows back up in my life trying to convince me that him and I were meant for each other, yad-yad-yad.”

“Seems like Lover Boy needs to be taught a lesson.” Sonja commented leaning against the bar.

That incident happened almost two weeks ago.

“King, she’s not answering her cellphone or her house phone.” LaSalle said walking up to Pride who was coming in from the main door. Worry was apparent in LaSalle’s voice, not to mention the concern was written all over his features.

“She’s not at home either.” Pride said as he looked at his team.

Sonja shook her head, “Where could Y/N, be?” She asked, crossing her arms. “This isn’t like her.”

“Stating the obvious there, city mouse.” LaSalle commented.

Brody stood up from behind her desk and made her way to the group. She was just as worried as everyone else, “When was the last time anyone heard from her?”

“Ah took her home last night,” Pride answered, as Triple P wheeled his way into the room.

“Alright, so I did a little digging.” He said as he wheeled over to one of the plasmas. “I figured since we can’t find Y/N, I would look into her crazy ex that has been showing up for the last two weeks.”

“What did ya find?” LaSalle asked, as he and the group made their way to stand behind Triple P.

“Some scary shit.” He said as his fingers flicked across the keyboard. “I was able to gain access into his computer; the idiot didn’t even have a firewall. But what he had in there, well, see for yaself.”

The whole team looked at the plasma with shock as Plame showed them what was on John’s computer. There were pictures after pictures of you; whether it be with Pride, or the team.

“He was stalking her.” LaSalle stated, his brow knitted together.

Plame nodded, “For longer than we thought.”

“How long?” Pride asked, anger and worry laced his voice.

“From what I can tell, at least three years.” He said as his fingers flickered across the keys, “Didn’t matter if she was working on a case here or in DC.” He added as he showed a couple photos of you with Gibbs, and the team up there.

“Where is this sick son of a bitch?” Sonja asked.

“I was able to pull up a couple things.” Triple P answered, “He has an address in Aurora Gardens, and a storage locker.”

“Brody ya’r with me, we’ll check out the house. Percy ya’r with LaSalle, check the locker.” Pride ordered as he went to the filing cabinet, unlocked it and pulled out his weapon.

Worry and despair were almost incompressible as they devoured your every thought. At this point you weren’t even sure where you were, all you knew was that your hand was chained to something and that you were in the dark completely. You couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face for there was no light what so ever. The smell of dirt and blood filled your nose, as tears made their way down your cheeks.

From what you could gather, you were in a small crawl space of such. However, you also knew by the say your body felt that you were also badly beaten. Your ribs ached every time you took a breath. There was a crimson taste in your mouth, telling you that your lip was spliced open.

Taking a breath, you knew that you had to find a way to get out of the situation you were in. There had to be something you could do. Pulling on the chain that was linked to your left wrist of the hundredth time, you started to accept the inevitable. Hours had past since you work up in the situation you were in. How many hours you had no clue, all you did know was that you prayed that Pride would be able to find you.

It was the next day, when Pride walked out of the second interrogation room that held your ex boyfriend, John. He was pacing the courtyard as memories filled his mind of you and him. The two of you had spent many late nights out in the courtyard. Whether it be having dinner that he made you or a cup of tea.

That’s when it hit him. He knew, without a doubt that he was in love with you. The feeling that he was feeling in his heart were even stronger than he had when he was with his ex wife Linda. He knew even more now, that he had to find you, he had to let you know just how much he loves you.

Thinking over the situation at hand, and the fact that John would only talk about how he and you were meant to be together and that nothing was going to keep you away from him, Pride mulled over all the information they had. That’s when an idea hit him, he knew where you were.

Making his way back into the bullpen, he looked at LaSalle who was the only one in there. “Chris, ya’r with me.” He said as he went over to the filing cabinet and grabbed his gun.

“Where we goin’?” LaSalle asked as he grabbed his jacket.

“Back to John’s house. Ah have a feelin’ Y/N, is in there somewhere.”

You were exhausted by this point, and all that was going through your mind was happy memories that you had with Pride and the team. All you wanted was to see them again, and the hope that they would find you. The worst part of it was that you had no idea where you were, or if you were in New Orleans. For all you knew you could be in another state. But, you had to push those thoughts aside and keep your faith that you would be found, that Pride was going to save you.

“Y/N!” Pride and LaSalle called out as they started to search the house.

Was that your imagination? Did you just hear Pride and LaSalle? You couldn’t be sure at first but you knew that you had to do something, had to let them know that you were there, that you were alive.

“I’m in here…” You tried to call out, but your throat was dry due to lack of water. “Dwayne! Chris!” You called out again in a harsh voice.  Worried that it might not have been enough you did the only thing you could. Moving the best, you could, you went to where your left wrist was shackled too, and started weakly pounding on the pole.

Pride stopped in the hallway and turned to LaSalle, “Did ya hear that?” He asked, his brow knitted together.

LaSalle nodded, “It’s Y/N.” He replied in almost a whisper.

Pride made his way towards the sound, which was coming from the bedroom. “Y/N, baby, we’re here.”

Tears came to your eyes as you heard Pride. “Dwayne!” You yelled with all your strength, which wasn’t much at this point, as you weakly hit the pole a couple more times.

Pride looked at LaSalle, “Over here.” He said as he grabbed the bed. The two of them grabbed the mattress and tossed it aside, followed by the box spring. Horrified they saw a hidden latch. Pride grabbed the handle and flung it open. Soon as the hatch was open, he spotted you. Truth be told even as bad as you looked in his eyes you were beautiful, and relief washed over him as he jumped down into the crawlspace.

“Dwayne.” You whispered as he went over to you was checking you over.

“Shh, it’s ah’lright, baby.” He cooed as he cupped your cheek, “Ya’re safe.” He said as he took his jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders. He turned and looked up at LaSalle, “Ah need the bolt cutters.”

“On it.” LaSalle replied and took off out of the house.

Finally released from the hospital, you and Pride were walking through the courtyard at NCIS. It was late at night, so it was only the two of you there. You stopped at turned looking at Pride, “I want to thank-you for saving me.” You said quietly, as you looked down at the ground.

Reaching out gently, he placed a finger under your chin, lifting your face to look at him. “Ya never have’ta thank me.” He replied as he closed the space between the two of you. His lips gently met yours in a passionate kiss. As the two of your parted, foreheads resting against each other he spoke in a whisper, “I love ya, Y/N Y/L/N.”

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. You poured all the passion and love you could into the kiss, as those words he had said to you, you have been wanting to hear. “I love you too, Dwayne Pride.” You whispered, when the two of you parted.

I lost my tag list, so if I missed you, I’m sorry.

Forever Tags: @emilyymichelle @purplekitten30 @spaceemonkeyyxd @lucifersagents

[ilovelocust]

Mirror Mirror V.2 (Part 12)

Note: Things get better, because Shiro deserves a bit of rest in his life. Everything is in the present from here on out. 

Under a cut again due to length. Not quite as long as the last, but still a pain for mobile users to scroll past.

<< First < Prev.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Keith whispers. He’s trembling against Shiro. Too many emotions, suppressed for too long, “I shouldn’t be telling you this. You have your own problems. I’m so sorry.”

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” Shiro murmurs, gingerly petting Keith’s hair, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Everything is going to be okay.” Hesitantly, he presses a kiss to Keith’s temple. Keith cries harder.

.

Keith’s breakdown is a wake up call. His continued distance is hurting his boyfriend, and this Keith, this Keith hasn’t done anything to deserve this treatment. He’s hovered, but left when asked. Watched Shiro’s every move, but only to make sure he is okay. He deserves better, than a cold shoulder. Besides, he misses him. The easy warmth they used to share. The comfort and safety he used to find in his arms. He owes it to both of them to at least try and reforge the bond they’d made before his capture.

For his first attempt, Shiro tries the obvious. He asks the computer where Keith is and goes to say hi.

Keith’s alone in one of the many rooms in the Castle who’s purpose has been lost to time. Chairs and tables are scattered here and there, but the room’s centerpieces is a curved wall of floor to ceiling windows with an unobstructed view to open space. If you dimmed the lights and stood close to the pane, you could almost think you were standing among the stars.

Keith doesn’t notice Shiro entering, too caught up in the galaxy laid at his feet. Shiro doesn’t say anything, not yet. He hasn’t had an opportunity to just look since he came back. Keith’s beautiful. Black hair contrasting against pale skin, back lit by the light of a thousand far away suns. The other Keith, the one from the alternate universe, he’d been attractive too, with sharp features and flattering clothes, but there’s a difference between finding someone attractive and being attracted to them. The Prince’s cruelty hadn’t turned him ugly in Shiro’s eyes, how much easier would everything have been if things were that simple, but he’d lost something, some critical spark that made the leap to something more. Shiro had never felt the desire to just sit and observe the other Keith. Not like this, not like now.

“Do you need something, Shiro?” Keith asks, his eyes never leave the window. Shiro cheeks flush. How long had Keith known he was being watched?

“I just wanted to talk,” Shiro says, walking closer to stand by Keith’s side. The Castle is passing a nebula right now, all vibrant reds and pinks. The scene is breathtaking. What would his younger self have thought, if he knew some day he could see something like this anytime he wanted.

“Is something wrong?” Keith turns away from the view. Eyebrows knitting together in concern.

Shiro smiles, reassuring, “Nothings wrong, it’s just been a while since we had a chance to just talk,” Shiro says. He doesn’t match Keith’s move. Watching the younger man’s reflection gives him some much needed distance. Everything a little easier when he doesn’t have to make eye contact, “I’ve kind of missed it. Haven’t you?”

“Oh, I guess,” The knot between his brows eases. Keith’s still concerned about him, but he’s no longer preparing for immediate intervention, “What do you want to talk about?”

“Ummm, well,” Right, subject matter, seems there is a fatal flaw in his plan, “What do you want to talk about?”

Keith face screws up for a second, then he snorts, “Takashi, did you just come here to try and make me feel better?” Keith’s voice is warm with held back laughter. Always so easily amused by Shiro’s social schemes gone awry.

Arms wrap around Shiro, a sharp chin digs into his shoulder. Cold sweeps through him, “You big dork, I’m fine,” The word’s only half register, there is an echo in his ears. The same voice, different words. Stars in front of his eyes, Keith wants him to fight slaves.

The arms around him go lax, let go, “Shiro?” Worry, for him.  He’s fine. There’s nothing wrong. This isn’t the same. The observatories lights are dim, Keith says he will fight.

“Shiro, breathe,” He can’t. Don’t make him. He doesn’t want to. Shiro closes his eyes, presses his forehead against the cold glass. He’s leaving smudges.

“You’re okay,” He’s not, “You’re safe,” Just a memory, “You’re in the Castle of the Lions.” Not surrounded by dark metal, no purple glow, not somewhere else. Not with him.

“Come on Shiro, breathe for me,” Keith is calm, steady, kind. Something to hold onto. Shiro takes a shuddery breath in. It hurts, like trying to force something past a closed throat, “There you go.  Inhale, now exhale, slowly, slowly Shiro. That’s it. You’re doing so good.” Keith’s voice guides him. In then out, in then out. The other place fades. There is just the cold touch of the window against his skin and the distant sound of the Castle’s life support.

Shiro’s on his knees. He stands back up. Straightens his sleeves.

“Are you okay?” Keith still there, close but not touching.

“Yes,” Shiro says, “I’m going to go.” He’s back, but untethered. This isn’t a good emotional state to be around Keith.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Keith says, stepping back giving him more room, “Hey, before you go, thanks.”

“For what?” What about this debacle could Keith possibly be thankful for?

“For coming to see me. It means a lot,” Keith’s voice is so sincere it hurts. Shiro has to look away, nodding stiffly. He’s a mess. Keith shouldn’t be thankful for his scraps, but he is, always is. What is he supposed to do?

.

That had been a disaster, but he didn’t become the top pilot of his generation by quitting the first time things went south. He was going to try again. The next day, when Keith finishes breakfast, Shiro dumps his plate and follows him out.

He doesn’t get a chance to look this time. Keith sees him, and despite looking a little surprised, slows down so Shiro can catch up, “Hey,” Keith says.

“Hey,” Shiro says. Just spit it out and they can move on, “I wanted to tell you. I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t..didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” Keith says, having mercy on him, “I get it. You don’t have to apologize.” Have and should are two very different things.

“Still-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Keith stops, pinning Shiro with a glare.

Shiro puts up his hands in surrender. He knows when he’s beat, “Okay, okay, I’m not sorry,”

Keith nods in approval, then starts walking again.

“So,” Shiro starts again, “Where are you headed?”

“Training deck,” Not surprising, the Castle’s entertainment options can be pretty limited at times.

“Mind if join?” Shiro asks. They’d first bonded over sparring back in the Garrison. The gym was nearly single handedly responsible for him worming his way past the walls Keith used to keep everyone at arms distance. Maybe it could do the same in reverse.

“Of course you can,” Keith is looking at him, his nose all scrunched up like he’s trying to figure out Shiro’s game, “You don’t have to ask.”

Shiro opens his mouth to respond, “Shiro!” Allura’s shouts. The Altean princess is striding down the hall, clearly on a mission. Whatever she wants must be time sensitive, “The Blade of Mamora wishes to talk. I need you on the bridge.”

Allura’s issues with the Galra rebellion, had eased the more they worked together, but part of being a leader of a coalition was recognizing your weaknesses. She always brought a neutral party into her negotiations with the Blade, “I have to go help with this,” Shiro says, apologetically.

“Go, it’s not like me being in the training room is a rare opportunity,” Keith says, giving Shiro a little shove towards Allura, “You can join me some other time.” Keith smiles and the world brightens with him.

Shiro smiles back, “I will,” He promises.

.

Talking with the Blades gains them a lead on one of Lotor’s schemes to solidify control of his Father’s Empire. They chase him and his generals through half a dozen star systems, with pitched battles on barren planets, and deadly cat and mouse games through silent asteroid fields. There are too many close calls, but the mission, the goals, help Shiro keep his head on straight. Push the past away, while he focuses on being the leader his team needs. He doesn’t falter once, and victory comes with a glorious explosion, sending Lotor slinking off to lick to his wounds.

All in all, disrupting the plan takes days, and Shiro doesn’t speak to Keith once outside their roles of team leader and second in command. He can’t keep letting this slip to the wayside whenever something happens. If he’s going to fix things, he needs to do better.

This time he makes sure nothing can go wrong. No spontaneity, he plans ahead of time, lets Allura know he’s busy. He makes himself sleep the night before, meditates to calm his nerves, and only then invites Keith down over the comms.

He waits for Keith on one of the less used training decks. He’s wanted something that is face to face and simple. Simple for him and Keith has always been stargazing, piloting, or sparring. Stargazing is out after the incident with the dim lights and window. Piloting in the same ship or lion involved being locked in a tiny metal box with no quick way out, didn’t seem like the best idea considering the state of his head recently. That leaves sparring. Friendly, by the official rules, sparring. Where the worst that happens is someone gets a busted lip or a couple bruises. He can do this.

Waiting for Keith to arrive undoes all the good meditating did him. His stomach is a mess of butterflies. What if he has another panic attack? What if their relationship can’t be salvaged? Maybe he’s finally too broken to be with Keith. His hind brain certainly thinks so, little whispers of danger. He should prepare something bad is coming. No just Keith, his Keith. No danger. The doors open. Shiro shoves those thoughts to the side as Keith enters. Concentrate on the here and now.

Keith looks better than he did. There are still dark circles under his eyes, fighting Lotor never left enough time to rest, but he no longer looks likes he’s about to pass out on his feet. That’s good. Maybe crying out his emotions, telling Shiro about his nightmares, helped him, or maybe like himself, the mission kept Keith too busy to think of anything else.

“So I thought, maybe you’d like to spar. A few rounds, no weapons, might be fun?” Shiro asks, before he can over think things further and psyche himself out, “If you’re up to it?”

Keith raises an eyebrow, “Seriously?”

Shiro hopes his smile comes across as winning, or at least please take pity on me I’m trying.

Keith returns his smile with a fond shake of his head. Success! Keith strips out of his jacket and blade, tossing them to the side, before walking out to join Shiro in the middle of the room. He slips into a ready stance, “Ready old man?” Keith asks, smirking.

“Hey, I’m not tha-” Keith lands the first punch.

Shiro scores the next three, and the match goes just about as well as could be expected. Keith is a compulsive trainer, if he could have a bed in the training room he’d probably never leave, but Shiro has more hands on experience in life or death scraps than any person should. Shiro wins four out of seven rounds, and Keith makes him pay for every moment of hubris.

His bruises have bruises, but the laughter comes easy. Adrenalin lifts him up for competition and excitement. Nothing of value is on the line, no blood is spilled. They part happier than Shiro’s been for a long time. His gut doesn’t even twist, when Keith offers for the same time tomorrow. This is how things should feel.

.

Same time tomorrow turns into same time every day. It’s not that odd. They’ve been sparring partners for nearly as long as they’ve known each other, and with no other major meltdowns on Shiro’s part, at least not in the training deck, there isn’t a reason not to reestablish a routine they both enjoy.

They’ve just finished a session, panting and drinking water in amiable silence. They’ll both go their separate ways soon, but for now there is nothing pressing and his thoughts can wander. The Castle has reestablished it’s rhythm since his return. If Slav wasn’t still here, there wouldn’t be any signs that he ever left. No one even mentions the time he was gone, seemingly trying to forget the period ever happened. Had Keith even take over the Black Lion like he’d asked?

“Why are you staring at me?” Keith asks. Shiro startles. His eyes had wandered without his permission. How long had he been looking before Keith said something?

“You’re cute,” He says, distracting from his own embarrassment. Keith’s flush is just an added bonus, “Also, wondering how Black treated you while I was gone.”

Keith ducks his head, hiding his red cheeks from view. He’s adorable. Still shy about compliments, after all this time, “Fine,” Keith mumbles.

“Just fine, no details?” Shiro pokes Keith in the ribs. There’s a little spot right between them, that never fails to make Keith giggle and squirm.

Keith squeaks, grabbing Shiro’s finger in a death grip. Keith gets his knees between them, guarding his soft spots from Shiro’s wiggling fingers. Tickle fights had always been weighted in Shiro’s favor. Keith didn’t have uncles to pin him down and tickle him until he squealed as a child, so he’d made it all the way to adulthood without building up a resistance. Shiro is working on fixing that, “What do you want?” Keith growls, trying to look fierce and annoyed, but a smile keeps break through.

“Details on how my second in command did in the big chair,” Shiro says, grinning. He holds up his free hand threatening more tickles. Keith tries to bat it away but Shiro just pushes closer. Crowding past his defenses.

“Things went fine. I don’t know what you want to hear. Black let me pilot her until we found out where you were, but it’s not like it mattered. We only had four pilots, so we couldn’t form Voltron or anything.” Keith says with a huff, his eyes avoiding Shiro’s.

Shiro bumps Keith’s forehead with his own, waits until his purple meets Shiro’s grey, “Team listen to you?” He prompts.

“Yeah,” Keith sounds a little out of breath, “Everyone listened just fine. Even Lance, Pidge said it was because I looked like I wanted to bite someones head off. That’s never stopped him before though, so I don’t know why.” Keith’s pretty eyes have gone wide, pupils dilating. Shiro’s leaning over the smaller paladin, so close Keith’s breath mingles with his own. An inch and he’d feel Keith’s lips. There hasn’t been this little space between them outside of a spar since before…

Shiro casually moves away, reaching for his water bottle, “That’s good. Told you, you’d make a good leader.” Shiro takes a few gulps, then stands up, “Same time tomorrow?” He asks.

Keith’s staring at him, like he wants to pull Shiro back down to the floor, but he just nods his head, “See you tomorrow.”

-

Spending one on one time with Keith is good but not enough. Their distance reaches more things than just in private. Even the others notice. Hunk asks why he and Keith no longer sit next to each other during meals. Pidge keeps giving him meaningful looks when he walks into a room and doesn’t walk over to Keith. So he forces what used to be second nature. He stands beside Keith during briefings. Pats his shoulder when he does well during training.

His motions are stiff, more awkward than they’ve ever been before. Several times he has to back off, walk away and give himself room to breathe until his rational side an reassert itself, but little by there is progress.

Pidge organizes another movie night. By popular vote, Allura selects the film from the Castle archives to watch. Shiro finds a spot on the couch between Hunk and Coran to settle. Much to Lance’s disappointment, Keith claims the spot beside the Princess on the far end of the couch. Snacks are passed out and the movie begins.

Turns out, by earth standards, all Altean films are horrible. Filled with references Shiro doesn’t understand and humor that’s either word play in a long dead language or so bizarre as to be incomprehensible. Also, Allura is a fan of epics. Pidge and Lance are both passed out by the time the thing finally ends.

Despite his utter boredom, Shiro isn’t the least tired. He only waves as the three youngest paladins and the Alteans trudge off to bed. The door shuts, and he’s alone with Keith in the common room. Keith should be following the others to bed, catch up on the sleep debt he’s stubbornly carrying around, but his performance hasn’t been suffering as of late. If Shiro tries to shoo him off the bed, Keith won’t hesitate to point out the hypocrisy of Shiro refusing to go to his own. No other options then, “Want to watch another?” Shiro asks.

“Of this series?” Keith’s nose wrinkles with obvious distaste. Allura had eagerly informed them the movie was a classic, and spawned over six sequels, all just as fascinating as the first.

“I was thinking more along the lines of letting you try your hand at finding something interesting,” Shiro says, tossing the remote to Keith. Whatever he picks can’t possibly be worse than what they just watched.

“That’s dangerous. My tastes are campy remember,” Keith smiles mischievously. They were pretty bad. Shiro used to tease him relentlessly about cheesy movies. That hadn’t stopped him from curling up with Keith on the couch to watch Killer Clowns from Outer Space.

“I trust you, besides even the worst cheese would be better than whatever it is we just finished.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Keith starts clicks open the option screen, beginning his quest through the database.

Keith pulls up his legs, as he concentrates far harder than picking the way to waste their next hour or two deserves. There is so much space between them. When the couch was full with snoring teammates, everything looked fine, but now their deliberate position on opposite ends of the long couch is glaringly obvious. They look like one of those divorced couples, who are only in the same room to fight over custody for the dog. This is silly. He feels pretty good tonight, he doesn’t need five feet of buffer space, “You can sit closer if you want,” Shiro says, patting beside him when Keith looks up, “You don’t have to stay all the way over there.”

Keith cocks his head, assessing, “You sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Because he never does, he doesn’t push Shiro. Monitors his boundaries like a hawk, in case he might cross a line. He’s too good for him.

“I wouldn’t offer if it would,” Shiro replies. Keith seems to accept that answer and crawls over. He settles a couple hand widths away from Shiro. Not cuddled up to him like they used to, but close enough Shiro could rest his hand on Keith’s thigh if he wanted. He keeps his hands to himself.

The movie Keith settles on is better than the one Allura chose, but only in the so bad it’s good sort of way. The characters and plot are the kind of stupid that go a thousand times better with a riff trax, and he and Keith are up to the challenge. During one particularly poorly written scene, they end up just muting the film and making their own dialog. Shiro laughs until his sides hurt, then laughs some more. The film ends, and Shiro isn’t ready to leave. Not when he feels so good and happy. Keith find a sequel, and he doesn’t have to. Tonight is terrible movie night for just the two of them.

Sometime during the sequel’s second act, Keith decides that Shiro and the main character are obviously two peas in a pod, and well, he just can’t let that stand. Keith earned that noogie all on his own, and if, when he’s done, Keith stays under Shiro’s arm, well he’s the one who put distance between them in the first place. He can take it back if he wants to.

He’s tired by the time the second movie ends, Keith is stifling back yawns, going soft against his side. If he left now, he could sleep, maybe even rest well, but the only thing waiting for him in his room is a cold lonely mattress. He’s not ready to leave the warmth of their movie night for that just yet. He turns on the third movie in the series and Keith snuggles closers.

Bzzip, Shiro’s eyes flutter open. The common room is quiet and dim. The monitor power light flashes once, then completes its deactivation. He must have fallen asleep. He’d been watching a talking scene, not even in the second half of the film, then nothing more. The room is safe, lit just enough to see everything, but not enough to dampen the sweet call from his dreams, luring him back to slumber.

A small snort, a second person is breathing, chest rising and falling against his own. At some point, Keith crawled into his lap cushioning his head against Shiro’s shoulder. Had he done that consciously? Keith wriggles in his sleep, he might have just squirmed to the best position to absorb Shiro’s heat without waking. Really shouldn’t have been a surprise he was related to the Galra, he loves his warm spots like any other cat.

Shiro runs his fingers through Keith’s soft hair. He doesn’t move, dead to the world. Shiro should probably wake him. Send them both off to their respective rooms for a good night sleep. Sitting upright on the couch isn’t the best for either of their backs, but he’s comfortable and so warm. How long has it been since he had both those things? Just for a night, even if it’s only for a little while, he deserves to enjoy this one thing. Shiro closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep.

Next >

[these-are-the-first-steps]

Hate marriage au, where they are doing the do and Rey gets carried away and punches Kylo in the face. But he likes it. *flounces back into the trash can*

Anonymous said to these-are-the-first-steps:Ayyyye more of that tipsy Rey would be cool. Idk how to redirect the fluff back to the angst tho that would be your job :o hehe

How ‘bout both? Both is good! Rey is large and in charge in this one, folks!! Although with some darker reasons as to why…

PS: This is really radically NSFW if that wasn’t apparent by the prompt, but it’s REALLY radically nsfw...

————

Another party. She was drunk. Again. But he had noticed a few times as they crossed paths in the halls during the past several days that she’d seemed a little unsteady on her feet, a little more prone to walking closer to the wall than she used to. With the corridor virtually deserted due to all hands on deck for the large affair, no one was there to see as he hauled her around the waist, through her bedroom doors, and dropped her unceremoniously onto her bed.

She half groaned, half whined, as she slowly unfolded and sprawled over the bedspread, loose hair hiding her face from view. Kylo turned once he was free of her without missing a beat, and ran his hands through his hair as he paced the room.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked finally, holding out his hands.

Rey didn’t answer, but slowly rolled herself over and onto her back, wispy red dress tangling in her legs and hair streaming across her face. She blew at it half heartedly in an effort to push it away, but ended up bringing up a hand to sloppily pull it away before flunking her arm back onto the bed.

Kylo waited, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“Well?” he asked again quietly.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” she replied quickly.

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t ask what was wrong with you, I asked what had gotten into you.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes.”

Silence.

“Well, maybe you’re just asking the wrong question then,” she said finally.

Kylo sighed and looked down at the floor. He didn’t need to ask her what was wrong- he already knew the answer to that.

“Come here,” she said suddenly, raising up an arm.

He arched a brow as he looked up at her, hesitating, but followed her command. Her hand wavered slightly raised in the air as he approached, her finger beckoning to him, until he stood at her knees, the thin fabric of her dress brushing against his pants. Finally, her hand opened and her fingers wiggled.

“Help me up, will you?” she asked, and he raised his brows.

Is that all I’m good for?

Stifling another sigh, he grabbed her hand and pulled her up more firmly than perhaps she was anticipating. She squeaked as the force of it caused her to stand up momentarily, pressing her chest to his own. Reflexively she grasped hold of his robes to steady herself, but gasped at the warmth against her chilled cheeks and pushed her face closer to his chest. She could hear his heart beat faster, and couldn’t help but give a secret grin. She closed her eyes as her head swam pleasantly and spread her hand against his chest. She pushed her fingers up until she felt the hard ridge of his collarbone, and then slowly dragged them down again- his breath hitching as she brushed past his nipple- and felt at his torso for the undulating muscle she knew to be there. Her fingertips hit the edge of his belt when she felt two hands on her shoulders pushing her down, plopping her back to sit on the edge of the bed.

He stared down at her, eyes sparked with a strange look, until her eyes met his. She squinted up at him.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t drink anything,” she commented.

“Why?”

“Didn’t you?”

He gave her a critical look. “I did.”

“But not enough to get you drunk?” she asked with a catty curl of her painted lips.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Someone’s got to take care of you at these things.”

She scoffed. “No one has to take care of me….”

“I would beg to differ,” he countered, and watched as she flopped back moodily onto the bed.

“You have zero experience with alcohol, Rey. You don’t know how to temper it. Or how you appear to others.”

She peered at him from the corners of her eyes. “Don’t I?” she replied with a lift of her brow.

“No,” he said simply.

Rey took in a deep breath before suddenly pushing herself back up to her feet. Kylo didn’t budge from his spot, giving her very little room to balance herself in. His arms didn’t raise to steady her, but her strength spoke for itself as she stood of her own volition and stared defiantly up at him.

“You don’t know everything, Kylo Ren.”

He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. He stared at her, eyes tracing over her hair and brows before looking back into her eyes. Slowly, he began to nod.

“I know that,” he breathed quietly.

Rey didn’t seem as adept at hiding her surprise in her current state, and he could tell his answer must have been unanticipated with the widening of her eyes. Suddenly, she smiled.

“Well then,” she said with unexpected enthusiasm, and sat back down on the bed with a bounce.

Her hands reached for his belt and succeeded in freeing one loop of it before Kylo picked his jaw up off the floor and grabbed at her hands.

“Wait a minute, what are you doing?” he said with a frown.

It was her turn to sigh as she turned away from her work to look up at him prettily with a purposeful flutter of her lashes.

“What I want,” she said sweetly with a grin, and batted his hands away to pull again at his belt.

She could feel the shock run through him as he pushed her away, this time finally moving back. He grabbed at his belt as her hands hovered there where he’d been.

“No,” he said, trying to hold his pants closed. “No, you’ve had one too many for this.”

“Kylo,” she protested, her hands falling back into her lap in annoyance.

“No!” he shouted. “I won’t have you… I won’t have you instigating for once only for you to come back later and blame it on me- no….I won’t have that,” he ended quietly.

Rey’s anger simmered behind her eyes.

“Come back,” she sneered.

Kylo’s eyes were wild. “What?” he replied incredulously, ambling dangerously back towards her. “What is it, Rey? Get to the point, quickly, so that both of us can get to bed.”

He bent over her now but she refused to budge, refused to give him an inch or show him even a glimmer of intimidation.

“You get your way most nights. How dare you begrudge me mine this once?” she gritted out.

At this, he nearly deflated. “Rey…”

“No!” she shouted, craning up to make sure he fully understood the expression she wore. “The one time I—“

“So I’m supposed to believe this??” he countered, his face contorting with frustrated disbelief. “That after all the games, all the cat and the mouse, ‘Kylo, I want you!’ “

His voice rose steadily until his hands hovered over her shoulders, straining in his anger but never once touching her as she tried to keep up her defiance as she started to waver. Taking a breath to try and calm himself, he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out finally. “But it’s too easy.”

He was shaking slightly as he stepped away, turning to leave, but her hands shot out, back to the two loosened ends of his belt, pulling him back towards her, her brow pinched. Kylo opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him.

“Then stop expecting. Please,” she reasoned. “Stop making me feel sober right now…” she added quietly.

“You always ask me what I want,” she continued. “Well now I’m telling you that this is what I want to do right now, so why are you ruining it?” she whined, thumbing at the edges of his belt.

Kylo’s throat ran dry as he tried to swallow. He could attempt to push her away again. He could try to—

She’d gotten too good at undressing him over the few months they’d been together, because as he was trapped in thought suddenly his trousers were around his knees and her cool hands were on his thighs.

“Rey—“

“Shh, please,” she pleaded, leaning forward to leave a soft kiss between his hip bones. He breathed out, and she looked on with apparent satisfaction as his cock started to twitch to life. She leaned forward again, leaving more kisses, more light brushes of her lips against his skin as she danced around that place he always wanted her most. He choked as she nipped gently at the skin just above his cock.

“I want to have my way with you, for once, Kylo, please.”

He shivered under her hands and she pulled him close, resting her cheek against his stomach.

“This drink is making my mind swim and I want to know what it’s like,” she murmured against him. She pulled away and looked up at him with more innocence than he had any right to be comfortable with.

“I want to know what it’s like, like this, with you. Will you let me?”

His brows knit together as he looked down at her, gaping slightly as he breathed- was this real? She wasn’t…he couldn’t call this affection, but part of him…part of him wanted to take what he could get.

His eyes softened as his hand raised up to run his fingers through her hair. He brushed through it once, twice, and she leaned into his hand, the alcohol elevating the already pleasant sensation, and he leaned down to kiss her meaningfully on the forehead. His thumb caressed her cheek.

“Take whatever you need, Rey,” he whispered, and as he pulled away, he ran his fingers through her hair one last time before gathering a fist-full of her hair in his hand and looking down at her with a needy resignation that caught her wide-eyed attention.

Her eyes darted along his, unreadable, and for a moment he thought she’d changed her mind, when suddenly she turned back and licked a long stripe from the tip of his head to the base. He gasped, hand closing tighter in her captured curls as she did it again, running her hand along the length of him until he was soon at full attention before her. Her lips were already wet from her own efforts, and they shined enticingly as he looked down at her through cracked eyelids. He wanted nothing more than to reach down and kiss her, push her into the bed with his tongue, but he knew she wouldn’t let him this time. This was her game. And as she parted those pretty lips to take just the tip of him into her mouth he hated that he had agreed to this- to wordlessly acquiescing to let her take the lead- because he needed to put his hands on her, but when he felt her lips pull once, twice around him, his thoughts whited out and all he could hear was the sound of his own moans echoing off the walls.

She added her tongue at the next pass, pressing hard against the under ridge of him until he was crying out, doubled over her and clutching her shoulder for support. Gods she was strong. He always knew that. But for some reason now it seemed especially significant. He absently noticed her hand snaking down between the sheer layers of her crimson dress, groping to pull them quickly aside until her fingers disappeared and the groan that vibrated through his cock in her mouth nearly sent him over the edge right then.

Her wrist moved over and over and he felt his mouth start to water as he watched what he could of her pleasing herself to sucking him off.

“Rey,” he whimpered. “Sweetheart, please, let me—“ he pleaded, barely able to move his hand away from her shoulder to try and reach for her own slick fingers when she batted him away with her elbow, squealing angrily as she sucked almost painfully hard around him. He buckled over, shouting into the back of her shoulder. She worked rapidly then, and he was almost disappointed at the idea of it ending quickly until he felt his mounting orgasm as he hit the back of her throat.

“Oh sshit…Rey, I’m…”

His moan grew louder against the thin layer of fabric covering her shoulder until he felt himself come while at the same time her fingers held tightly at the base of him. He bucked into her almost frantically and she let him, but she wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t let him leave that part of himself inside her, and as he came down, panting loudly, she pulled away as his hand tried to caress the back of her head and she grabbed his robes, depositing him squarely on the bed beside her.

“Rey, what did you—?”

“Scoot up,” she ordered.

“I didn’t—“

“I know you didn’t,” she answered quietly. Those lips…

He edged backwards, pulling more of himself onto the bed, as he watched her hitch up her skirts.

“Rey,” he said warningly as she straddled him from above and began to loosen his clothes. His head was still swimming from his orgasm as she left his chest exposed.

“Take the rest of it off,” she snapped, and as he looked up at her, his eyes narrowed.

Suddenly, he rolled into a sitting position and curled his arm around her, holding her flush against his bare chest. He looked down at her in silence as at first she started to struggle until her eyes met his and she started to still. He didn’t look away as, with one arm, he shucked his layers, still holding her tight against him. He slung them to the floor as he felt his cock somehow wetly twitch beneath her bottom.

Her breath quickened as she looked up into his eyes and her mouth opened as if to speak, her jaw working up and down, and he tilted his head to watch, but she could find no words. Her thighs squeezed hard around him as she took in a breath.

“Lay down,” she said quietly.

“You next,” he said lowly.

She brought up a hand to splay against his naked chest as if, from this proximity, she could somehow force him to do her bidding. He resisted the urge to smile. Her eyes were locked on his as her small hand pressed into his flesh before easing up again, and, slowly, her other hand reached up to the gathered shoulder of her dress and gently dragged it down the slope of her arm. It fell, and she reached over to the other side to do the same. She finally let go of him as her arms pulled back to fumbled with the fastening, her eyes finally breaking away from him, as his hand found hers and, together, the zipper came down. The fabric fell forward and pooled along the top of her thighs as she looked up to meet his heated gaze. Carefully, she reached down and pulled it over her head and tossed it with his robes. He looked down and slightly arched a brow.

“No underwear?”

She arched an agitated one back.

“Already took care of it.”

“Oh—“

She pushed him back just as his arms slackened with the distraction and soon followed herself, pushing her breasts against his chest as she latched on to his neck, sucking hard as she knew he did to her, and was pleased when a bright red mark blossomed against his skin. She licked up the side of his neck before catching the lobe of his ear between her teeth. At this, his hands grabbed hard around her waist. Their cheeks brushed until her face hovered above his and she watched as the color danced along his skin. He swallowed.

“I want to kiss you,” he said almost painfully. His hand grazed her side and she allowed him to squeeze her breast in his hand, letting herself indulge in the sensation of his rough thumb toying with her nipple as she pressed her pelvis against him and felt for the space below his abdomen.

“You’re not allowed,” she gasped, breath ghosting hot over his lips, and his expression would have broken any woman’s heart. Rey relished in it. He looked like he had tears in his eyes.

“Why not?” he whispered sadly. At this, she leaned down, lapped at the skin just next to the corner of his mouth before leaving her own, wet kiss there before pulling away.

“Because you like it too much,” she said with a coy smile, and as she moved down to roll her hips against the top of his cock she swore she did see a tear slip from the corner of his eye as she worked him back to erection by sliding herself over him again and again.

She hated him. But she liked that stupid face when he looked at her like that. She liked the way he felt when she rubbed him against her clit.

His stomach clenched as the tip of him grazed her entrance, and she bent over to leave a kiss along his sternum and down the split of his muscles that squirmed under her touch, his back arching towards her as she bit delicately at the bit of flesh that protruded just at the base of his navel.

It was then that she slid herself along the length of him and took him inside, completely, until she sat back with a deep sigh and him within her to the hilt. He was breathing heavily but somehow managed to bend his legs up, support her where he could, as she started to move.

It was too good, he thought, too good to have her on him like this, why had they never…? Yes. That’s right. She had never wanted him like this. But as she moved up and down, pulling him along with her tight pussy, head rolling back before dropping forward, he realized he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life than this woman, Rey, his wife, riding him steadily with nothing but that small, pretty necklace he’d given her on their one-month anniversary glittering at the space between her collarbones. A space he wanted very desperately to arch up, hard, into her, to kiss and suck until he had her begging.

But he kept it to his imagination- there would be plenty of time later, later- as he reached up to grab both of her delicate breasts and knead them in his fingers. He brought his thumb and index fingers to his mouth to wet them before bringing them back to her erect nipples and rolling them roughly in his fingertips, causing her to arch back, her head hanging behind his knees, as she bared herself to him, still pushing along him, and he got distracted watching her slick pussy, soaked with both their efforts, slide along his shaft. This image of them joined, literally, never ceased to daze him, and as the image of it nearly overloaded him, he let his head fall back against the bed as he slowly, gently, met her thrusts and pushed up into her in tandem.

“No,” he heard her whine faintly.

He didn’t quite hear her, lost in the feel of her, his movements grew more pronounced as he felt her motions stutter briefly and he slammed into her hard, causing a shout to choke out of her.

“No, don’t, I want to, I—“

“Rey, don’t make me…please,” he pleaded, continuing to fuck into her, but she slammed down onto him hard, digging her fingers into his chest as she rode him faster.

“No, tonight you’re mine, do you hear me??” she half screamed as she dragged her nails across his chest. He cried out from the sting coupled with her faster pace. He could hardly breath.

“Rey, please, I’m going to…I’m going to—“ he shouted as he pushed into her again and she roared in frustration, swinging back her arm to punch him squarely in the side of the jaw just as his thumb found her clit. They cried out together, for two different reasons, as the pain in his face pushed him over the edge and he came hard inside her. His thumb pressed hard against her clit before stroking it aggressively until she was arching away from his legs, pulling up along him tightly over and over again, clenching hard against him until he was crying out again, overwhelmed, but euphoric, as he finally, finally, came inside her as she veritably milked him with every slam of her hips.  

When she finally slowed, his hand fell away, and she collapsed in a heap on his chest, knocking the air out of him, again. The sweat made her slick against him, and he lazily brought up his fingers to caress at the wetness on her back. He dared to feel at her mind to find her utterly gone, so he pushed himself inside her head as he pulled his cock out of her body and painted patterns in the skin of her back.

She sighed. Feeling some semblance of strength start to come back to him, he curled his arms around her, lifting his legs to try and bring them around her, too.

He felt her nuzzle into his neck despite the wet, despite the heat, and he held her there, cradled her, as her breath added to the furnace surrounding them.

He didn’t care if she didn’t.

He wanted to say a million things, but chose not to. He just held her in silence, and her arm curled up towards herself on his chest. He lowered his hand to cover hers with his own.

Whatever it is, Rey….I’ll always be here, he mumbled in imprecise form in their shared consciousness. Passing along the feeling of his intentions was always better than whatever words he could come up with. Words always seemed to get him in trouble.

She was relaxed against him, and when she didn’t protest as he began to move, he took it as permission to move her along with him so that they were laying along the correct length of the bed. With her finally laid properly along side him, he did cage her in now, and left a feverish kiss along her temple.

“I’m sorry,” came her muffled voice.

“Hmm?” he replied, moving slightly away. She looked up at him groggily and worked to free her hand and rested it on his chin.

“I said I’m sorry,” she repeated, gently gripping his chin and pulling his head slightly to the side.

“What for?” he asked in confusion.

There was a pause as she sighed in mild irritation and her fingertips brushed along his cheek.

“For hitting you,” she said finally, letting him go and tucking her arm back between them.

He smirked with a huff and grabbed up her hand again, his thumb fitting neatly in the palm of her hand as her fingers closed almost instinctually around it. He pulled her fist up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, the tops of her fingers, before gazing back down at her affectionately.

“Any time,” he replied with a slight quirk of his lips.

She smiled. She huffed and she smiled as she looked away, and when he smiled back, she saw it, and he pulled her in close, letting the cool air dry them in the quickly fading night.

“Any time.”