#I literally read it in an hour late at night in bed which wasn’t really the time for aesthetic posts and quotes!

[a-ramblinrose]

“A poet once wrote that the woods of Gallacia are as deep and dark as God’s sorrow, and while I am usually skeptical of poets, I feel this one may have been onto something. Certainly the stretch of my homeland that I found myself riding through was as deep and dark as something out of a fairy tale.”― T. Kingfisher, What Feasts at Night

[camilaxmartin]

velvette stressing about a date with reader/getting ready

so stressed, obsessed

navigation // rules // masterlist

summary: how the getting ready for a date looks from velvette perspective

warnings: NOT PROOF READ; some cursing probably, you can count some parts as suggestive

note: i made headcanons out of this cause it fitted more for me (it just looks like headcanons it’s literally a one shot but let’s skip that) i was having a stressful night and just wanted to get it out:)

note 1.2: i love writing my princess as a mess cause as much as she loves being organised i can’t get messy velvette out of my head:) - it’s about balance yk?

requests: open!!

ღ | velvette was soo excited about the date and hear me out, so excited. of course, she was going on a lot of dates i mean look at this girl but this time it felt… different

ღ | the time you asked her out (cause we both know she wouldn’t do it if she actually liked someone and was nervous around them) she tried to play it off and it actually worked until you heard her little giggle when she thought you wouldn’t be able to hear it

ღ | the first thing she did after you’ve asked her out was literally stumble through her whole wardrobe to find something to wear that night you two were gonna meet up. she shuffled through all of her clothes and groaned in frustration as nothing was even close to being enough to what she had in mind for that night

ღ | velvette decided she was gonna try and make something to wear and the start of it was really promising, but soon after she got to like half the dress she thrown it out of her hands and groaned loudly not feeling like her skills were enough (which is fucking RARE for this girl)

ღ | she grabbed her phone and looked up some dresses online trying to find *the one* but nothing seemed right to her. she locked her phone and thrown it away on the ground, jumping on her bed and falling with her face right into her pillows. she wanted everything to be perfect and yet it felt like the whole hell was against her

ღ | soon after her mumbling to herself that everything is shit and she shouldn’t even go on this date, she fell asleep her hair getting out of control, as always when she slept without earlier preparation for it

ღ | the next morning she woke up on her own, her eyes opening slightly as she had no clue she had fallen asleep the day before. she sat up on her bed and unwilling stumbled out of it to grab her phone and check the time

ღ | her hair literally straightened out on its own when she saw the time. it was way too late for her usual routine and by now she should’ve been already in her studio preparing her show. she groaned, which was like literally the only noice she was making for the past two days, and send vox a quick message that she won’t be able to make it today so he has to think something out

ღ | she sighed as she thrown her phone away once again and laid back down starring at the ceiling, rethinking every decision she has ever made in her entire life

ღ | after about half an hour she was already in front of her wardrobe looking for something at least decent to wear for tonight. after many and i mean, many difficulties she has finally chosen a dress matching it with some high boots, a silky jacket and a small purse in the same color as that dress. she wasn’t fully proud and happy with the choice but it was the best she could do. she rolled her eyes throwing that outfit on her bed and stormed into her bathroom knowing she’s already way too behind in her daily routine

ღ | because she has fallen asleep yesterday without planning it first, she had no idea what hairstyle should she wear for tonight. i mean sure- she has thought about it a million times already but hasn’t decided on anything yet. she looked herself in the mirror her hands immediately touching her face in all the spots she wanted to change or just get fixed and sighed feeling her anxiety rising up

ღ | velvette shook her head, took out her phone putting on her favourite playlist to get ready, and undressed, getting into the shower and preparing for one of the longest showers of her life. she turned the water on, heat of it hitting her skin immediately as she sighed in pleasure, getting her favourite shampoo and razor from one of the shelves. she bubbled up her hair and rinsed it out almost immediately putting on some conditioner and making sure not to wet her hair for a while. she then get to washing and dolling up all of her body. she quickly shaved her legs, armpits and decided to shave between her legs as well i mean- you never know what can happen right? especially if you’re in hell

ღ | after removing all of that hair from her body, she rinsed herself off and put on body scrub, scrubbing all of her dead skin off and doing it a bit too aggressively for her liking but what you’re not doing for beauty right? she rinsed off the body scrub as well and finally cleaned her whole body with rose soap getting herself all nice and clean. then she rinsed the conditioner from her hair and washed it with shampoo one again

ღ | finally, she stopped the water and get out of the shower shaking her head before getting out. she grabbed her favourite towel and wrapped it around herself, grabbing a special towel for her hair and wrapping it up as well. she looked herself in the mirror once again and smiled, handing for a body cream to get herself even more soft than she already has been

ღ | after doing so, she took out her face cosmetics and washed her face, doing a face mask in the spare time and then putting on milion of her creams and serums to made sure she was perfect for tonight

ღ | she took a deep breath as she looked at the time and realised she had to fasten up the whole process a bit. she unwrapped her hair from the towel and thrown it on the glass of her shower to dry, as she shook her head once again to feel if her hair needs fake drying or not

ღ | velvette whined and walked out of her bathroom still wrapped in her towel, as she walked over to her wardrobe to pick out some underwear. she quickly decided on a red set with pink and blue hearts on it, and panties that didn’t leave much to imagine. she smirked looking down at it, hoping she wouldn’t wear it for nothing tonight as she walked back to her bathroom putting it on

ღ | being in only her underwear she got started on her makeup knowing it’s probably going to take up most of her time. she took out all of her cosmetics and stuff and got to work. she was singing along to her playlist and actually having a good time while putting all of it on, her mind letting her anxiety go down for a few moments. she was doing her usual routine with her makeup, but also added small hearts around her eyes, something she didn’t do normally, every one of them matching her eyeshadow

ღ | when she was done she looked at the time and realised she needed to be ready in about an hour. her eyes widened as she stormed out of the bathroom and grabbed her picked out outfit, walking over to the huge mirror in her room looking herself up and down. she smiled to herself seeing her body, she was never the one to be insecure about it or at least that’s what she was telling herself, and started putting on the dress having a little trouble with it as she was trying not to get it wet with her still wet hair. she let out a sigh as she managed to put on the dress without any unwanted problems and sat down on the floor to put on her boots. she bit her lip, her thoughts going to the planned date again as she felt her nerves rising again. she took a deep breath trying to calm herself but it did nothing. she zipped up one of her boots and looked at it in the mirror smiling and admitting to herself that it didn’t actually look as bad as she thought it did. she quickly put on the other boot and made a little spin in front of her mirror admiring how her look turned out

ღ | she took another deep breath and ran to the bathroom to dry her hair. she looked at the time and tried not to freak out more as the hour of your meeting was getting closer and closer. she took out the hairdryer from one of the cabinets and plugged it in, knowing it’s gonna take her a while to get at least a presentable hairstyle

ღ | she has been drying her hair and drying as finally they become fully dry. she smiled to herself in the mirror and when she glanced at the time she instantly freaked out. if she didn’t leave now, she’d be late. but her hair wasn’t fully done

ღ | velvette bite her lip and grabbed her phone writing you a message that she was gonna be late a bit and trying not to make it sound as nervous as she was feeling at that moment. did it work? you can just imagine how that message look, i mean it was something along the lines of:

hiya babes, i’m gonna be a little bit late, hope you will wait for me xx

or

i’m running late, so just wait for me and don’t you dare say anything about it when i finally get there, see ya xoxo

ღ | safe to say she was even more stressed out now. she quickly grabbed her hairbrush and started aggressively brushing her hair getting mad at herself more with every second and every brush passing. she let out a whine sounding like she was at the edge of crying and looked at herself in the mirror reminding herself, that she can’t cry now as it would ruin her makeup and she’d need even more time to fix it

ღ | velvette took a deep breath and grabbed another conditioner to style her hair. after a few moments she managed to pull her iconic two ponytails while leaving her bangs curled (like her natural hair, i have ep. 8 in mind)

ღ | she smiled to herself admiring how good she actually looked and quickly grabbed her phone storming out of her bathroom, grabbing her early picked-out jacket along with her purse and immediately left the vee’s building like it was literally on fire

ღ | as she was walking to the spot you two agreed on, she felt like her whole skin was on fire, her heart was pounding in her chest and the biggest lump was forming in her throat. she tried calming down as she started brainlessly scrolling through all of her social media’s but nothing seemed to help. she shoved her phone annoyed into her purse and cursed herself in her mind for choosing such a small one. her thoughts were getting louder and louder with every second, even starting to tell her that this whole date was a huge mistake and she shouldn’t have agreed to it

ღ | she was inside her head the whole time as she finally reached the spot you two chose and saw you standing before it, waiting for her yet not looking mad that she was late. her head became empty in a second and an uncontrollable smile creeped onto her face as she walked over to you with her usual confidence, yet her stomach was starting to fill up with butterflies. she finally reached you and greeted you with a small wave and a simple “hi” to which you immediately responded with another “hi”, wide smile and a wave back

ღ | velvette was sure there and then that no matter what outfit she would’ve picked or whatever hairstyle she pulled or if she even showed up two hours late looking like an old windbag (see what i did here?;) all of her doubts would leave instantly when she saw your beautiful smile that was apparently reserved for her only

ღ | the date, obviously, went amazingly and you guys picked out another day to meet up once again, despite the fact that that night velvette wasn’t alone walking back to the vee’s tower and definitely wasn’t the only one sleeping in her bed

ღ | the hopes she had while picking out the underwear before going out definitely got fulfilled

[kirarifutari]

room for two. (jake x reader)

GENRE .. !? jake x reader, roommates, fluff

WARNINGS .. !? sfw! not proof read, rushed bc when is it not, sharing same bed trope, roommate trope, this is bad

WC ..?! aprox. 1.8k

SYNOPSIS .. ?! sharing a shitty apartment with anyone is a pain in itself but with sim jake that was another story, on the most impossible night to sleep, you shamefully knock on your roommates door, asking if there's room for two.

NOTES.. ?! funny story i probably rewrote this like 5 times trying to figure out an actual story line w roommate!jake but it literally still did not work so have this garbage... but if u enjoyed pls share reblog and like hehheehehe <3

You shuffle in your sheets, trying to find a comfortable position on your stale mattress. 

Both sides of your allow were warm and your eyes just couldn’t keep closed. Twisting and turning some more didn’t help either. You checked the time, 01:43 AM. You bring a pillow to your face and let out a muffled groan. 

Sleeping in your rundown little apartment was tough most nights, especially with the train line right next to your window coupled with the little droplets of rain you could feel from the window on rainy nights like this. But you were the one who chose this room for yourself, the other was perfectly fine, not amazing but anything was better than this room. The question is, why this one? Because you’re a push over and wanted to be a nice person. That’s why. 

Joining a new college mid semester was a pain, and no one told you that all the dorms were full, practically leaving you begging for a roommate in some apartment, you didn’t really care how bad it was. (Well, you regret those thoughts a little now…)

There was only one person who was kind enough to offer you a space, he had already rented the apartment under his name and he was even offering you his room, claiming that the other wouldn’t be suitable for you. 

While arranging the living situation, you texted Jake back assuring him a thousand times over that you were fine to take the smaller room, you were just grateful for him to have given you a space at all.

 

It’s true, you meant what you said. Jake was too nice of a person to push him out of his own room when he’d already been kind enough to share rent in the first place. But sharing an apartment with Jake was… more troubling than you thought. 

When you first met him you didn’t expect him to be that pretty of a person. His sharp jawline and happy smile in harmony with the way his hair fell around his face, the cherry on top being his golden retriever like personality. 

You wondered deep down how you were going to last living with practically your ideal type for at least the rest of the year. 

Leaving you back ni your room, time now 01:46AM and you still couldn’t sleep, your eye twitching at the sound of a train passing through the neighbourhood. Your eyes scan the room again, your small desk and makeshift wardrobe, the thin walls and the strange brown circle right above your bed…

Wait. 

You hadn’t noticed that before.

You sit up right, gazing at the patch that had formed on your ceiling, it seemed to be growing rapidly. Just as you were about to get up, grab your phone and inspect it with the lights on, a droplet of water fell on your forehead. No, it wasn’t coming from the window, you were sure of it because the droplets were coming hard and fast. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” You mumble underneath your breath, bursting your door open and trying to grab a bucket from the bathroom as silently as you could, not wanting to disturb Jake in the next room over. Taking the bucket from beside the shower and bringing on top of your bed, you place it directly underneath the leak.

Which also happened to be directly under where you were supposed to sleep for the night. 

You were stumped. It was too late at night to get up and do something to waste time and too early to tough it out till the morning. You’d barely gotten an hour of sleep at this point. 

You chew your lip as you go over the options in your head. 

1.Sleep on your rooms molded, squeaky wooden floor with no blankets too… yours were getting a little wet now.

Or

2. Knock on Jakes door, swallow all your pride, and ask for some spare blankets and sleep on his floor.  

You were seriously considering a third option of flushing yourself down the toilet, but you knew the option A was just as bad as staying up until the sun rose, knowing you’d get no sleep either way. The couch was out of the question too, it would probably give you scoliosis if you tried laying down to sleep on it. 

You sucked in a breath. You needed your sleep… this was going to be the only way, besides what's Jake going to do? Reject you? What’s the worst that could happen… 

Throwing on a hoodie over your tank top you make the walk of shame out of your room, and gently knock on Jake’s door, praying to get this over with quickly. 

At first you thought you heard nothing, knocking gently again, you get a small hum in response. You feel your cheeks heat up at his deep voice. You open the door handle to a bleary eyed Jake with messy bed hair, hunched over his bedside table as he turned on his lamp. Jake’s room was nice, much better than your own with space for a double bed and a built in closet. 

“Hey, what are you doing up? You should get some rest, go back to sleep bunny.” He covered his yawn slightly, leaving you standing there, stupidly trying to get out the right words to explain your situation. 

“Sorry to wake you up,” You start slowly, Jake starting to look more awake now. “But the um, the ceiling it started leaking.” He tilted his head in question over this. “Over my bed and I uh, don’t have anywhere else to sleep, could you lend me some blankets maybe? I-I could sleep on your floor…” You mentally slap yourself for stuttering like an idiot asking him a simple question. 

Jake looked more awake now but still seemed to be processing everything you just said. 

“You want to sleep on my floor?” You wanted to hide from embarrassment, was that seriously all he got out of your little proposal?

“Uh, yeah if that’s okay… we both know how gross mine is.” You laugh a little to fill out the awkward air. Jake is sat up right on his bed now, humming to himself as he puts his head on the headrest. 

He rolls his head towards you, making sharp eye contact as he gives you his usual puppy like smile. 

“There’s room for two in here you know?” He looks at you as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world to your problems, the 1+1 = 2 to your dilemma. You widen your eyes at him to which he only chuckles, shuffling over and flipping up the blanket to invite you in. 

So he wasn’t kidding. 

This wasn’t a little Jake ‘gotcha I’m such a prankster lol!’ moment, this was him seriously offering to sleep in the same bed. You were sure he was delirious. 

“Don’t make me wait for you forever, I have sleep to catch up on bunny.” He raises an eyebrow at you which snaps you out of yoru daze, almost jumping as you slowly close the door behind you and take padded footsteps towards his bed.

You could not believe you were doing this right now.

Gently you sit on his bed and shuffle to lie down, pulling the sheets over yourself. Jake got comfortable pretty quick turning away from you and seemingly fell back asleep within seconds, but you just lied there staring at the ceiling, questioning whether the moldy floor would’ve allowed a more peaceful sleep than this. 

Of course, his sheets smelled exactly like him, and the way he looked when he was sleeping as adorable, all curled up with tiny light snores escaping his lips. You squeeze your eyes shut and consider getting out, knowing there’d be no way you were falling out of consciousness this close to your roommate. But your escape plans rendered useless, a heavy arm locking the route out and trapping you close to his chest. You let out a small sharp gasp, even you could barely hear it yourself, but you were so sure that you could feel Jake smiling against your shoulder. 

Your breathing slowed and your hearts pacing matched his, your eyelids felt heavy and you finally felt yourself drifting off into unconsciousness. A warm fuzzy feeling keeping you smiling in your sleep. 

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

The sunlight gently wavered over your face and an unfamiliar light breeze drifting through the the curtains allowed your eyes to flutter open once again. A split seconds worth of panic arose in you as you noticed the pale white bed sheets and the strange soft mattress. Your surroundings felt all too… nice, you quickly remembered the events of last night and you sighed in relief, only to be swallowed in panic again once you noticed Jake was not sleeping beside you. You looked at the time: 9:30AM. 

Although you were thankful it was a Saturday, it felt odd to be up this later, stranger yet in Sim Jake’s bed… without Sim Jake. 

“Oh the bunny’s awake, morning sunshine.” Jake’s voice startled you form the doorway. He leaned onto the door frame, sipping a cup of coffee in hand and giving you a warm smile. You were dumbfounded at how casual he was about everything, but then again you weren’t going to deny that that was the best sleep you’ve had in months. 

“How long have you been up?” You questioned him.

“Hmm, maybe since 8? I didn’t want to wake you up, you were sleeping so peacefully.” You blush at this, knowing that he’s seen what you look like sleeping gave you that feeling of intimacy that dwelled inside of you. 

“You should’ve woken me up… I feel bad for taking up your space.” You heard Jake chuckle at this, he shook his head, allowing his messy hair to fall over his eyes again. 

“You keep saying that, but we share the rent to this place together, don’t worry about it.” You hum at him, suddenly feeling self conscious under his gaze, clad in a hoodie and pyjama shorts, your hair probably a mess as you try and smooth it out. 

You cough, “So are you gonna call someone to fix the leak? I can call up the landlord of you want me to.” You break your eye contact from him for a moment. 

“No.” He replies flatly, causing you to look back up at him in confusion. “You should sleep in here more often.”

You feel your face go hot again, mouth falling open in an attempt to say something, but Jake had already gotten out of the doorway with a small smirk and a wink.

Leaving you in his sheets,

Time: 9:35AM.

[fandangotales]

Captor Xiao: Introduction

…

GN! Reader

Warnings: Unhealthy attachment, obsessive tendencies, descriptions of depression, dark content.

Please do not read if you think this will have a negative affect on your mental health. If you are experiencing any of these behaviors/habits yourself, please seek out support.

There’s a loud crash, as Xiao’s keyboard slams into his desk. He had just got sniped… again. He hissed in annoyance, closing out of the game. He just wasn’t able to focus as usual, and instead his mind was running rampant with thoughts and images of you.

He groans, laying down on his bed, staring at the darkness of the ceiling. The only light came shown from his computer monitor, as it flickered randomly.

Earlier, he had watched another one of your streams, and some of your random content on YouTube. Gods, he loved you so much. Just seeing those videos, or even just hearing your voice was enough to drag him out of the worst of moods… which was quite the feat these days.

You usually streamed once a week, and he honestly didn’t know what he would do without those regular updates. It was almost like a set schedule… every Friday night, you’d stream for a minimum of 2 hours. Such an event had repeated for the last 2 months, much to his delight. At this point, Xiao couldn’t imagine going without those weekly updates. Sure, he could watch some contemplations, or rewatch one of your recorded streams. But it really wasn’t the same the second time… not when he had memorized every single word that came out of your pretty lips.

Maybe his… interest in you was getting a little overboard. Although, he couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when you had done so much for him and his current self. You could be compared to a sweet dream… utterly perfect and uplifting in every form. And for Xiao, whose life had been filled with so many struggles, he found it incredibly difficult to break away from that sweet dream. He never wanted to let you go… because if he did, he would simply return to that… terrible sense of misery that seemed to accompany him even in the happiest of moments.

With you… he didn’t feel the overwhelming pressure that usually accompanies his mind. And sometimes, he would pretend you were there with him, if only to help him do the simplest of tasks. Getting out of bed at a reasonable hour, or taking care of himself was instantly made much easier, if he would take the time to imagine you there with him, with one of your typical comments.

“Wake up, silly goose. It’s literally 11am!” You’d say, with your ever-present smile.

Or sometimes,

“Come on, you can do it. Take a shower… it’ll only take 20 minutes, max. It’s not so bad. If you do that… you can eat some of the almond tofu left over in the fridge!”

Maybe it wasn’t the most normal thing to imagine, but if it helped? He wasn’t complaining.

Xiao buried his face in the single pillow on his bed, letting out a sigh. Just seeing you was enough to make him smile… the soft tone of your voice and the way you’d always dress up for your streams… it was truly a sight to see. You were divine… gracing him with your time and company, if only through the screen of his computer monitor. This way, he was allowed to bask in your presence, even if he was a nobody. Even if he didn’t deserve the smallest bit of attention from you.

His computer made a soft sound, indicating that he had an unread notification. He instantly clicked on it, after he saw the typical greeting from your twitch channel.

“Hi everyone!

I’m so sorry to announce this, but I’ll be taking a 3 week break due to some personal reasons. Please don’t worry about me, as everything is completely fine. I just need some time to take a break from my usual routine, as I’ve been feeling tired and worn out as of late. Thank you for your understanding, and I’ll be seeing you all after three weeks.

Love you all, and stay safe…”

.

.

.

.

N

.

.

.

No….

.

.

It’s as if his mood had completely dropped to rock bottom. Forget his previous excitement; forget his previous happiness at seeing one of your announcements. It all was crushed the moment he read those words.

3 weeks.

You couldn’t be serious. 3 weeks? Three whole weeks. It was already hard enough… waiting for 6 days between your regular weekly streams.

The day after the stream would be the easiest, as he would be thinking back to everything that you said throughout the day. It was fresh in his memory… your comforting presence fresh in his mind.

The day after that, the initial happiness began to fizzle away. Still there… but it was much less potent than the day before.

Halfway through the week, it’s almost as if he hadn’t even seen you. Those were always the hardest days… the days were he was thrust back into the familiar feeling of loneliness. It was a heavy feeling, weighing down on him as he tried to sleep. He struggled to even relax… as the negative feelings would always overwhelm him to the point where he didn’t even have the energy to get out of bed. At that point, it seemed like there was no point of anything. No point of taking care of himself. No point in eating. No point… of simply existing. There was no point, if he was without you.

The two days before the stream, his mood switched to one of anxious anticipation. He knew you’d be online… in 2 days. If he could just hold out until then, he’d be able to see you again!

The very day before the stream, Xiao didn’t even sleep. He couldn’t forgive himself if he missed even one second of your content, or one second of your intro screen. It was like a religious ritual… one that he followed perfectly as if he was your devoted worshipper.

2 hours before the stream, he was biting his nails. The anticipation was killing him.

1 hour… he was grabbing another cup of coffee. He was exhausted, but it was worth it if he was able to see you.

30 minutes… he tapped his leg, as he shifted in his gaming chair. Usually your intro screen was on by now… what was happening? Was something wrong? Did you…

Can…

Cancel?

This couldn’t be… not after he put so much effort into staying awake just for you. His breathing got heavier, as he started going into a full blown panic attack. You… you were avoiding him? What did he do…? He’s sorry… he must’ve disappointed you… he’s so worthless… sorry…

he’s sorry…

15 minutes later, the familiar waiting screen appeared on, with a little note apologizing for the late start. He breathed a sigh of relief, as his previous mood completely evaporated at the sight.

You were just late… everything was ok. What a benevolent streamer you were, offering a little apology just for him. He sighed, smiling slightly. You always were the sweetest…

When the stream started, his expression changed to one of pure elation. Seeing you… seeing this new content, hearing about your day… it was the best thing that has happened to him since your last stream. He eagerly watched the stream, replying to your little comments as if you were talking to him and him alone.

You think the “Crimson Witch of Flames” domain is terrible? Xiao agrees, because the Lavawalker set is useless. (He doesn’t even know what artifacts are… he just heard you complain about that set in particular)

You pulled Nahida in a recent banner? Xiao doesn’t even play Genshin Impact, but he’s already looking into this character so that he can better understand your favorite game. He really doesn’t need to understand the whole story line of the game… but if it helps him connect with you in that way, then he’ll gladly look into it. Even if it means watching hours of videos, and spending hours on the Genshin Impact Wiki.

He’s just that devoted… willing to do that… willing to do… anything for you.

.

.

.

.

One week was doable. A struggle, but he could always power through.

But…

Three weeks?

His apartment was silent, except for an occasional sob, as he curled into a small ball on the floor of his room.

The teal LED lights shown down on his pale body, as it was shook on the floor.

The only other sounds in that apartment was the quiet hum of his PC fans, and the occasional startup sound of the air conditioner.

He was alone.

Again.

Again.

Again, he’s alone.

…he needed you.

[emolooswrld]

The Other Woman

part one part two

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, strong language, angst, chrissy being a cunt again😑, crying, and i think that’s it lmk if i missed anything.

summary: after you blew up on eddie, he was determined to figure out what happened. when he finally finds out, he knows what he has to do. he just prayed you would forgive him.

note: hey guys! im so sorry this part took so long to post. halloweekend really took a toll on me lol. but im back and yes, there will be a part 4. and i know y’all are gonna wanna read it because there will finally be some smut🤭also this part is pretty short but part 4 will make up for it! i hope you all enjoy😚

The second your car was out of Eddie’s view, he had almost ran into the school. He needed to know what happened. Seeing the hurt in your eyes just about broke his heart. Your words cutting through him like the sharpest knife imaginable.

The second he had opened the front doors of the school, he was met with a crowd of students, Chrissy being front and center. “What the fuck did you do to her?” Eddie asked, his voice laced with venom. “I just treated her like the pathetic little slut she is.” Chrissy shrugged with a smirk. Eddie shoved past her and the crowd.

When he reached your locker, his heart sank to his stomach. He clenched his fists as he read the words sketched onto the cool metal. “You know, I really should’ve listened to everyone when they told me not to date the freak.” Eddie spun around to face Chrissy. He swore there was literal steam coming out of his ears from how angry he was.

“And I should’ve listened to my friends when they told me not to date the self-centered, stuck up, bitch of a cheerleader, but yet here we are.” The look that struck Chrissy’s face had Eddie biting his lip to keep from smiling. “We’re done. Don’t talk to me ever again.” Chrissy spat at him before she made her way out of the crowd. “Gladly.” Eddie had muttered under his breath.

Now Eddie knew why you were so upset. He felt absolutely horrible. He should have ended things with Chrissy the moment he met you. Regret and anger and sadness coursed through his veins. He knew what he had to do. He just prayed you would believe him and give him a chance.

The second you had gotten home you ran to your room and locked the door. You had crawled onto your bed, hugging your knees to your chest. You had been crying for god knows how long. The tears just wouldn’t stop pouring down your face. You couldn’t believe Eddie had hurt you, yet again. You mentally cursed at yourself for being so fucking stupid.

Night had settled over the sky. You were still in the same position on your bed, tears still flowing. You heard something knock against your window, but you shook it off as a tree branch. Then you heard it again, and again. You shuffled around on your bed to look out your window. This isn’t fucking happening you thought to yourself.

There, standing outside of your house, was Eddie. You wanted nothing more than to walk downstairs, open the front door, and punch him square in the face. But the look in his eyes was desperate, pleading. The soft spot in your heart for Eddie won. You opened the window.

“What do you want, Eddie?” you sighed. “Can I please come up there? I need to talk to you.” he was practically begging. “Fine, but make it quick.” You moved away from the window to make room for Eddie. You watched as he climbed through. This wasn’t the first time Eddie had come through your window late at night so he did it with ease.

You sat on the edge of your bed as Eddie stood awkwardly in the middle of your room. You both just stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Your red and puffy eyes broke Eddie’s heart. You looked like you had been crying for hours, which you had been. Finally, Eddie spoke.

“When you were yelling at me in the parking lot, I genuinely had no idea what had happened. I was so confused and seeing you so upset shattered my heart. So after you left, I went back inside the school and I saw what Chrissy did. I told her off in front of everyone and we ended things. I don’t know how she found out. I promise you I didn’t tell her. I’m so sorry she did that to you y/n.”

You let out a sigh. You wanted to forgive him, you really did. “How am I supposed to trust you Eddie?” was all you managed to say. Eddie walked over to your bed and sat next to you. He turned so that he was looking at you. You watched as he reached up to his neck. He pulled out his guitar pic necklace out from under his shirt and undid the clasp. He grabbed your hand and put the necklace inside.

“I know it doesn’t look like much, but this necklace means a lot to me. I want you to have it. As long as you have that necklace, you can always trust me. I know I’ve fucked up and I know I’ve hurt you. Nothing I say or do can change what I’ve done, but I want to make up for it. I meant it when I said I loved you, I still do. I want more than anything to make you happy.” Eddie looked at you with such genuine love and adoration.

You looked down at the necklace in your palm. You knew how much it meant to Eddie. You’ve never even seen him without it hanging around his neck. “Eddie, I can't take this. It’s too special to you.” You said as you gazed into his chocolate brown eyes. “You’re even more special to me sweetheart. I want you to have it.” He smiled at you.

You both sat there for a moment. You didn’t really know what to say. You knew he was being genuine, you could tell from the look in his eyes. “I still want to take you out this weekend.” Eddie said suddenly. You turned to look at him, a smile on your face. “I’d like that.” Eddie smiled so big you swore the corners of his mouth almost touched his eyes. “Yeah?” he asked hopefully. “Yeah.”

Eddie cupped your face in his hands. He leaned in until his forehead was against yours. “Can I kiss you?” He asked. “Please.” And that was all Eddie needed to hear. The kiss was slow and gentle. Different from the usual heated make out sessions you two had. There was more passion, more love behind this kiss. You were the first to pull away, out of breath. You rested your forehead against Eddies and looked up at him, pure love behind your eyes.

“I wish you could stay, but my parents will be home any minute.” You said, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between you both. “Can I take you to school tomorrow?” Eddie asked. “You know I have a car right?” You said teasingly. “I know, but if I take you, I’ll see you sooner.” He said with a bashful smile. “I was just teasing, you can take me.” You giggled. “Good.”

Eddie stood and moved towards the window. “I’ll see you tomorrow princess.” He said with a wink. “See you tomorrow.” You waited until he was halfway out the window. “Wait!” You said as you walked over to him. “What? Did I forget some-“ Eddie was cut off as your lips pressed into his. He sighed into the kiss as you ran your fingers through his hair.

You pulled away with a laugh. “Fuck princess, you’re making it really hard for me to leave.” You giggled. “Im sorry, you can go now.” “Bye y/n.” Eddie said with a wink before he hopped down from the window and made his way to his van. You stayed at the window until his van was out of view. You couldn’t contain the squeal that left your mouth as you flopped down onto your bed.

You couldn’t wait for Saturday.

taglist: @sanzu-holic @harringtonfan4 @mayafatimakhan @sage-the-z0mbie @zbeez-outlet @tlclick73 @anonymousstoryteller2000 @daydreaming-mood @lali1010 @eddiesbattattoos @iunaelumen777 @whore-for-eddie @emiluvmybf

[flownwrong]

expectations (a due south fic)

F/K, 1.5k words, additional tags: first kiss, stupid phone conversations, drama over a duffel bag

I'll tell you what I told ao3:

"My writing hit a wall a while back. To deal with it, I decided I'd write the only way I can now—short fic I can seat-of-my-pants in one day. A piece for each ship/fandom/idea where I have wips or thoughts that I can't make into actual works. This is the first one.

Thanks to @nigeltde-fic for dragging me down with this ship, and generally being a champion. <3”"

read on ao3

Maybe it really is a damn Groundhog Day type situation. Only twice as boring and nobody gets the girl, like, ever.

One thing he never pictured when he thought of the after-fraser-life, which he didn’t do very often, or, well, maybe he did, but he didn’t like doing it, point being—one thing he didn’t imagine was that it would be the same. As in, poof, never happened, must have daydreamed it, off you go, Stanley, play well with the boys.

And, well, it isn’t really a never-happened kinda deal, because Fraser, he just lives in a pocket in Ray’s head now, twenty-four-literal-seven, like friends do, you know, or something close. And what with Vecchio and Stella fucking off to Florida and Frannie doing her thing all while they were still doing the big adventure stuff, between all that it’s hard to not notice the change. But other than that—it’s the same job, the same desk (his desk, The Kowalski Desk), the same bottle in the cabinet above the sink and the same—the inside of his head is the same, too, giving him trouble like always.

The way they left things—if that’s even what happened, left things, huh—it’s not what he feared. Not what he expected, either—and it took him many, many frozen-through adrenaline-drunk days to put a finger on it, that there was an expectation. And now back here, it’s like one of those tip-of-the-tongue moments he’s so familiar with, only with that expectation; it circles him all predatory with every lonely shuffle around his dance-apartment-floor and every stupid late night reruns session and every finger of drink he takes with that, and then it wafts away on the wind, leaving him feeling like he missed a step and twisted his ankle. Which is kinda stupid, when you come to think of it, since it looks like all his worst-case scenarios solved themselves and left him with a cushy little offering while he was playing explorer, and wasn’t that what it was all about.

And maybe it wasn’t, because Fraser calls, like he does, which floors Ray a little every single time for reasons he can’t even begin to articulate, he calls on a Friday and brings him up to speed on Dief’s aversion to the nearest Tim Hortons (nearest being a few hours’ trip to Yellowknife) because quote he says it’s cheating and Chicago ones tasted better and frankly it’s insulting end quote and how you pay and pay and pay and how he fixed up the cabin now and the second bed is new and really much better than the one Ray had to deal with up there, he made sure of that (felled the best tree he could find, Ray wagers), and Ray finds himself nodding and humming and gripping the stupid station handset, knuckles gone white, biting his cheek, hell if he knows why, not like his smile could do any damage at this point. “There isn’t a waiting list for that bed, is there?” he says, no reservations worth stopping for. And, “no,” says Fraser, and there’s that expectation, clarion as you please, ten-four, roger that. “Greatness,” Ray says, and hangs up, and does a little shimmy he’s not even ashamed of.

And then Fraser doesn’t call for three weeks, in which Ray is very productive, managing to vent drunkenly at Turtle who looks so unimpressed Ray thinks he actually hears him sigh, pack the bag, unpack the bag, consider terminating the lease, call in with Welsh then come in anyway, chase the latest case into almost three whole days awake and get sent away by Welsh anyway once the Bonnie and Clyde of small-time food truck GTA are locked up, pick up the phone roughly thirty-seven times, put it down thirty-six, and that last time, Fraser picks up and calls out for him softly and he’s too much of a chicken to do it back. Where exactly they tripped in a dance Ray felt resonate in his bones, he can’t guess.

Week four, Fraser calls, only it’s Ray’s doorbell that rings this time, and he picks himself up faster than he would the phone.

“Fraser,” he says first, then swings the door open, “Frase,” gripping his wrists way too tight, “what in god’s name was that—scratch that, don’t say, one thing it was is not buddies.”

“I don’t see what you mean, Ray,” Fraser says, and it’s supposed to make him angry, this far in, only this time Fraser is wrapped up in a soft green-gray flannel instead of the red walking coffin and he has his beat-up bag and the stupid hat on, so even Ray can see through the reflex of it. Fraser tugs gently at him. “Ah, Ray, if you could just let me put my bag down—thank you kindly.’

“You do, Frase, I know you do.” He lets Fraser’s wrists go for half a second it takes for the bag to thud onto the floor—other side of the threshold, damn it—and not a moment longer. “Did you come to stand outside my home and bullshit me?”

“Yes. I mean, not for that, no, but yes, I forgot about—oh, darn,” he says and tugs one hand free to take his stetson off, which is how you know, if you’re Ray, things are afoot. Big things. Momentary events in history. So when Fraser steps one foot in and leans back against the doorjamb and pulls him near—with hands snaking under his arms to land just below his shoulder blades, one half of a hug not yet given, a freakish way only Fraser would go with, which fires Ray up instantly, heat flooding his face like a punch he has to close his eyes against—when that’s done, Ray can find his mouth blind he’s so ready.

“You’re off,” he mumbles, because Fraser is the one with eyes open and he still landed somewhere around where Ray’s lips turn into his cheek, and then only corrected half an inch down, catching the corner of his open-eager mouth.

Fraser presses a kiss there, with intent. “Not,” he says, and then, then he hits the bullseye, fucking A, bingo, job done, you get a sticker—or a mouthful of tongue, because that’s faster where they stand.

“Momentous,” Fraser says into Ray’s hair, some breathless minutes later, and Ray says, “wha—’ and Fraser says, “you said, or rather mouthed, something about momentary events, if my memory serves—well, it must, it’s only been three minutes. I suppose you meant momentous, given the context.”

“Jesus, Shakespeare, come the fuck in, what do I have to offer to get you both feet inside.”

Fraser straightens but doesn’t move an inch to displace Ray where he’s giving him the second half of a hug. “Well, Ray, I didn’t mean to stay, per se.”

Ray disentangles them and tugs at the lapels of Fraser’s really very soft shirt, whenever he’s grabbed those, huh. He blinks once, twice, and thinks about how many bottles he will have to get for that cabinet now, because fucking hell. The bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to rub at his eyebrow, so to him it all makes sense somehow. He looks down and frowns.

“What’s with the bag?”

When he looks back up, Fraser smiles, an honest to god I’m-back-in-ten-foot-snow-and-alive-again grin, eyes kind of superglued to Ray’s face. “Promised Dief to get some of those Chicago donuts, which are, apparently ‘the right kind’.”

Ray steps back, shoves at Fraser’s chest, no way-like, and folds in two with laughter. Fraser looks at him all affectionate, and the absurdity is so familiar it gives Ray a headrush. Or maybe that’s all the wheezing he's doing.

“A bag? A whole bag of donuts?”

Fraser gets this look where his eyes get all liquid and light, and now that Ray’s got the manual he knows that translates to scared and hopeful in downright unhealthy measures. “I didn’t count on being back to Chicago soon.”

Ray can feel he’s doing the superglue thing now, too.

Fraser clears his throat. “Oh dear. Unless—I didn’t mean to presume, it’s only that on the phone—”

Ray cuts him off in a voice that’s too rough to seize the reins of, so it will probably break in there somewhere but it’s all a-okay now, isn’t it—says, “You’ll have to get in here, Frase. I think I’ll want some pants with my donuts, and I’m now in the bag-unpacked phase—uh, anyway.”

He heads inside and hears Fraser shut the door and toe off his boots. 

So maybe there was no tripping after all. Just Fraser and his insane moves Ray always learns, dancing skills be damned. Good thing he isn’t Bill Murray—would be awkward to explain this to the girl.

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Twenty One

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: ~4,100

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Eva stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her shoulders were slumped in defeat. She tried. Really tried. But, Josh wouldn’t be moved. Every argument she put up was immediately shot down. He barely listened to her as she pleaded with him not to go through with it.

Apparently, he wasn’t done punishing her for the incident with Diego.

It was more than that—Texas was angry with him. Josh’s delivery was two days late. Not a promising start to their partnership. As such, he and Alexei were going to need to spend three or four days cleaning it up on site.

Under normal circumstances, Eva would be thrilled to have a few days to herself. Unfortunately, what she was about to face wasn’t normal circumstances. Josh was resorting to one of his oldest punishments, something he hadn’t done since the months following her attempt to run away.

“Eva!” he called from her bedroom, “We’re late. Let’s go.”

Knowing that she was out of time, Eva straightened the fabric of her night dress and opened the bathroom door. Dutifully, she walked over to her bed and sat down on the edge of it.

Josh scoffed at her sullen silence, “Its just a few days. Alexei even packed you a care package—which is more than you deserve.”

Eva glanced to the side. There was a small basket of non perishable snacks and even a puzzle book to keep her busy while they were gone. It would be all she would have to keep her occupied until they got back.

Digging around the frame of her bed, Josh tugged free a small, but sturdy chain. On the end dangled a cuff not unlike the ones used by local police. He snatched up her ankle and secured it with a hollow click.

“There,” he pronounced as he straightened, “You’ll be fine.”

Not looking at him, Eva asked, “Friday?”

“Yes. Friday. At the latest.”

She nodded.

“Be good and I might bring you back a souvenir.”

Another nod.

He turned and left without saying goodbye. Eva listened as he called out for Alexei. Listened as Alexei called back. Listened as doors opened and closed, as the engine of a car turned over, as the car drove further away. Then, Eva listened to the silence.

With a deep sigh, Eva reached down and picked up the chain. She flicked it to unravel most of the length out into the center of the room. Long enough to reach the bathroom, short enough to keep her from doing much else. If the weather was nice, she could take the chair from her vanity and sit in front of the open terrace doors.

The root of Eva’s punishment was confinement. And boredom. She had nothing to do with her time but sit with her thoughts. Maybe rearrange her closet, if she were in particular need of stimulation. It was only a small silver lining that it was Tuesday evening. She could sleep away the first eight or nine hours.

And, that’s what she did.

Waking the next morning was no better than stewing in her frustration the previous night. Eva spent a long time glaring at the ceiling. She watched the sun creep across the room until it touched the overhead light. Then, she threw back the covers and stomped to the bathroom.

The tinkle of the chain followed her all the way.

There was no sense in getting dressed. No sense in doing her hair or make up. Eva returned to the bed and slumped onto the mattress. Her eyes fell onto the basket Alexei made for her and she was forced to mentally thank him for the consideration.

The first time Josh implemented this kind of punishment, Eva had nothing to distract her from the immense loneliness. It was only when the first of the hunger pains started that she realized she couldn’t get to the kitchen. Eva spent two days without food and drank water from the tap in the bathroom. It was the memory of that pain that kept her in line for months afterwards.

Curious, Eva pulled the basket over to her and dug around inside. Peanut butter and jelly, a couple bags of chips, some rice cakes, half a box of crackers, and—at the very bottom—a Twinkie. Eva held the little cake in her hand and smiled. She would save that for much, much later.

The puzzle book wasn’t all that bad. Eva passed a few hours working through a crossword followed by a logic puzzle. By then, her brain was melting through her ears and the quiet, empty room helped to ease the dull headache. Eventually, her stomach started to growl.

Dumping out her available food, Eva carefully divided it out into individual meals. She would have enough to get her to Friday, if Josh returned around lunchtime. Picking out her first meal, Eva used her fingers to spread the peanut butter and jelly onto the crackers. When she was done, she went to the bathroom to wash her hands and get a cup of water. She spent the evening reading through her Spanish book and practicing her conjugation.

This routine was performed over and over in between bouts of manic energy that had Eva rooting around underneath her bathroom sink for cleaning supplies. She scrubbed every inch of tile and porcelain. Then, she did the base boards. Then, wiped down every flat surface. Periodically, she would take a hot bath. Eva did anything and everything to keep herself occupied until Friday morning arrived.

From there, it was a waiting game.

Eva sat on the edge of her bed and listened impatiently for the garage door to open. Noon passed. And then one...two...three… It wasn’t much of a problem that Josh was late. What ate at her was that Eva had no idea how late he would be. Even if she had a number where he could be reached, Eva had no phone in her room to call him.

Annoyed, she paced to the door as far as the chain would let her. Planting her foot, Eva leaned forward and braced her hands on the jamb so that she could peer into the hall. There were no answers for her there. The angle wouldn’t even let her see through the glass of the front windows to the driveway.

Blowing out a breath, Eva went back to her bed. In the basket at her feet lay her last little snack. The plastic of the wrapper glinted against the wicker around it. She sighed and picked it up. Opening the Twinkie, Eva took a bite and chewed thoughtfully.

She shouldn’t be worried. Josh was not a punctual person and a late return from his trip should be expected. Eva would probably hear the engine of his car pulling in around dinner time. She just needed to be patient.

Rationalizing it didn’t make her any less mad.

Dinner time passed and the sun set. Eva curled up on her bed and remained awake deep into the night. She perked up at any little sound, ears straining in the dark. Falling asleep happened without her realizing it.

She woke to a gray, rainy morning and no Josh. Standing up out of bed, Eva went to the terrace doors and opened them.  She let the cool morning air wash over her body, inhaled the smell of petrichor. Leaving the doors open, Eva went about showering and drying her hair.

By the time she walked out of the bathroom, the room was filled with cold air and the heat was kicking on. Mouth scowling, she went to her closet and pulled out her longest, thickest coat. If he was going to be late, he was going to pay through the nose for it.

She lasted most of the day before her fingers started to lose their feeling and her nose began to run. Closing the doors, Eva crawled under the covers of her bed and watched the shadows grow larger throughout the evening.

She slept fitfully.

The next morning was more difficult. Hunger rose up in her belly the moment she opened her eyes. It was only marginally assuaged by gulping down glass after glass of water. She  spent several minutes leaned over the bathroom counter, waiting for the nausea to pass. It, like hunger, seemed to be her constant companion. Bladder uncomfortably full, Eva waddled back out to the bedroom and assessed her options.

There weren’t many.

She already knew the strength of the chain. She also knew that attempting to break the cuff would be unsuccessful. It would be a waste of energy to try. That didn’t stop her from fiddling with it for about an hour out of sheer boredom and the need to distract herself from the stomach cramps.

Another fitful night passed in hunger that was tainted with growing rage. But, even that was too much to keep up as her body grew more and more depleted. Soon enough, even getting up to open the terrace doors was too much work and Eva passed another half a day staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

Eventually, her fatigue and the way should couldn’t stop thinking about food overcame all her stubbornness. Her anger dissipated and all Eva was left with was defeat. She might be able to withstand the ache in her belly if she knew how long it would last. Josh was two days late already and there was no telling how much longer Eva would be stuck chained to her bed frame.

She cried until her tears ran dry. And then, she pulled her covers up over her head and tried to sleep. It was difficult. Her body was urgently telling her to find food, that resting could come later. She dozed on and off, dreaming of big spread of junk food on a platter. Extra Twinkies.

Her uneasy sleep was disturbed by a soft knock at the terrace doors. At first, Eva thought it was a part of her dream and ignored it. Another knock reached her that was more real than the last. Another.

Eva’s eyes blinked open.

She rolled over and stared in the direction of the knocking. There was little light and all she could make out was a shadow standing at the door. She flinched. Warning bells blared in her already strained mind that there was a burglar at her door. Had she locked the terrace? She couldn’t remember.

The shadow shifted and the door knob turned. Eva held her breath.

Locked.

As soundlessly as possible, Eva tried to move from the bed to the floor where she couldn’t be seen. If a fit of extremely uncoordinated limbs, she ended out falling to the floor with a heavy thud. Wincing from both pain and embarrassment, Eva untangled her legs from the covers and peered up over the mattress towards the doors.

“Eva!” came a voice.

Horacio.

Relieved, Eva pushed to standing with difficulty. She balanced her weight on the mattress as she rounded the bed, stopping occasionally to clear her vision. Dizzy, she took a deep breath and forced herself to traverse the few feet between the bed and the terrace doors.

She opened one of them, resting her body against the other, “What are you doing here?”

Horacio eased inside and closed the door behind him, “I left you a message at the library. You didn’t show. I was worried.”

Eva’s smile was wry, “I’m a little bit...tied up at the moment.”

She could barely see his confused expression in the dark. Carefully, Eva trudged over to the bedside table and flicked on a light. Then, because even that was enough to exhaust her, she dropped heavily onto the bed. Hands draped over her knees, Eva looked up at Horacio and waited for his reaction.

He followed the length of her body down to her foot, eyes narrowing on the chain. His head tilted to the side and she could see his mouth curling as he traced it along the floor to where it was secured to her bed frame. Hands on his hips, Horacio paced to the other side of the room. He cursed a blue streak in Spanish the whole way.

Eva chuckled silently as she waited for him to come back to her.

It took a few moments.

Horacio ran a hand over his mouth, “Why?”

There was such a helplessness in his expression that Eva was half tempted to lie to him. It would have been the charitable thing to do.  At some other time, she might have accomplished it. But, she was just too tired.

She shrugged, “He was pissed off at you. And, since he can’t get at you, he punished me.”

His jaw dropped, eyes going round with shock, “I did this.”

Horacio’s guilt was almost worse than the hunger. The two of them agreed on how they were going to handle Josh’s plan to use her to seduce his partner. They were both to blame for how Josh reacted.

Eva let out a breath, “He did this.”

Moving slowly, Horacio knelt in front of her and touched the cuff. His hands were warm on her skin as he turned her foot over. Eva let him look, counting his lashes as they fanned across his cheek. It was a serene moment right up until her stomach growled.

Eyes lifting to her face, Horacio frowned at her, “This chain isn’t long enough to get downstairs.”

“No,” she breathed, “its not.”

His hand tightened on her ankle, “He left on Tuesday.”

Eva swallowed, sensing his rising anger, “I had food.”

Horacio repeated the word ‘had’ with a soft kind of suspicion. Eva stilled her body and breath, not sure how he was going to react when he asked the question that she knew was coming.

“When did you last eat?”

Her mouth thinned as she debated lying to him.

“Evangeline,” he said firmly, “When?”

The lie on her tongue died a fruitless death, “Friday.”

Eva watched the emotions play across his face and it made her want to reach out to him. It made her want to soothe him. She curled her fingers into her palms and made herself sit still and wait.

He touched her cheek, “When on Friday?”

Distracted by the way his thumb ran over her cheekbone, Eva answered without thought, “In the morning.”

Horacio pulled his lips between his teeth, held them there a second, then let them go. He stood without a word and strode away so suddenly that Eva was knocked off balance. She swayed, catching her weight on the mattress.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer. His feet were already carrying him through her bedroom door. She heard him descend the stairs and a rustling of movement down below. With nothing to do but wait, Eva pulled her legs up onto the bed and tried to arrange the covers, her nightdress, and the chain in a way that was a little less awkward.

Heavy steps brought Horacio back to her. He was carrying one of her trays with several plates atop it. She smiled, bemused, as he set the tray carefully down on the bed and climbed in beside her.

“I tried to find things that wouldn’t upset an empty stomach.”

There were several fruits that had been cut up into small bites, a bottle of honey, and a box of butter cookies that Eva knew Myra liked to have around for when she visited. All in all, it wasn’t much different from the basket Alexei prepared. And yet, Eva hadn’t felt near the level of gratitude for it as she was feeling for the spread before her.

“Thank you,” she croaked.

He shook his head, “Don’t thank me. Its my fault you’re hungry.”

Eva touched his arm, “Its not. I told you.”

Horacio reached back and picked up one of her pillows. He pushed it against the headboard and leaned back onto it, “No. It was me. I’ve been keeping Josh in Texas.”

She frowned at him, “Why?”

He wasn’t looking at her. Eva wanted to let him think about how he wanted to respond, but her patience was too thin to wait. The sooner he got it out into the open, the sooner she could eat. Eva jabbed him impatiently with a finger.

Head rolling to the side, he said, “I was rough with you the last time we were together.”

She scoffed, “Diego was rough with me.”

Horacio sat up and waved a hand, “Same thing.”

“Its not,” she replied as she watched him pull the tray closer.

He blew a breath through his nose in clear disagreement, “Diego was trying to hurt you.”

Eva reached for the fruit he was holding out to her. Horacio pulled it back with a stern look. She dropped her hand and he brought the apple to her mouth. Dutifully she opened and let him slide it between her lips. He talked while she chewed.

“I was afraid your husband could see right through me.” Horacio gave her more apple, “I was sure Zero knew exactly how I felt.”

Eva swallowed and swiped a bit of juice from her lips, “How did you feel?”

Confident hands drizzled honey on one of the butter cookies, “Angry, but you probably already knew that.” She did. “Frustrated that we were even put in that position.”

“Understandable,” she bit down on the cookie, laughing when honey dripped down her chin.

Horacio wiped it away, bringing his thumb to his mouth and running his tongue over the pad, “I supposed it is understandable.” He shot her a flirtatious look, “Frustrated is better than horny.”

Eva almost spit out the cookie. Hand over her mouth, she reached for her water on the nightstand, drinking deeply so that she could breathe again.

“You’re surprised?” Horacio asked with lifted brows.

She shook her head, “No. I’m not surprised.”

“Good,” he retorted sharply, “Its partly your fault.”

Eva was all innocence. “Is it?”

Horacio gave her a piece of strawberry, “I’ve never had to work so hard in my life to fight off an erection.”

Her eyes dropped to her hands, feeling unaccountably embarrassed by the admission. The fog of hunger had faded somewhat and the room around her was slowly coming back into focus. Horacio was slowly coming into focus.

He was close. Inches away. The night of her lamp cast him in a warm, soft yellow that blurred the edges of his body. He was no longer relaxed against the pillow, but the tension in his body was gone. His eyes were focused on his hands as he pulled the green leaves off a strawberry.

“I’m not going to apologize.”

Head turning, Horacio lifted a brow, “I didn’t ask you to. Threatening your husband while you soak the front of my jeans is now in my top five favorite fantasies. Open.”

Eva bit into the strawberry, relishing the sweet taste. Horacio waited for her to swallow before feeding her the rest of it. His thumb swiped over her lips to catch the juice. She followed his hand as he brought it to his mouth, feeling hot all over.

“What did you mean when you said that you would make him regret it?” she asked.

Like Horacio, she’d replayed the events of that afternoon over a few times in her mind. Sometimes, she thought about what would have happened if he’d taken Josh up on his deal. Sometimes, she thought about how he would have reacted if Alexei stepped in. Almost every time, she remembered his overt threat.

Horacio’s hands paused over the apples, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”

She bristled, “Don’t tell me what I don’t want to know.”

Sucking his teeth, Horacio pressed a hand to the mattress and leaned towards her. Eva met his stare evenly. The strawberry in her mouth coated her tongue. She chewed slowly and swallowed, taking with it the sudden nervousness of having him look at her with unchecked desire.

“I was so good,” he murmured, “I let you walk away with him. I’m not a man who has the strength to do it a second time.”

Her mouth opened, hung there, “I don’t understand.”

Horacio pushed her hair back from her face, “Next time he tries to use you like that, I’ll make sure that he can’t look at you without seeing my mark.”

There was no doubt that he meant was he was saying. Horacio’s voice might be low, but the tone was firm. Intense.

She drew back, “How?”

Pulling her forward, Horacio kissed her lightly, saying against her mouth, “I’ll bite down...here.”

His thumb brushed the sensitive skin of her gland and the meaning of his words became crystal clear. Eva couldn’t stop the shiver as it worked its way down over her shoulders and all along her spine.

“Is that okay?”

Was it? What Horacio was proposing was more than just marking. It was bonding. Eva was brought up to understand that a bond was a sacred thing. It was deeper than any marriage. And permanent. Any attempt to separate a bond was about as effective as trying to build a snowman in ninety degree weather—frustrating and impossible.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Yes.”

Even as she said the words, Eva was surprised at her own reaction.

His hand tightened, “Are you sure? You have to be sure.”

“Are you sure?” she asked as her brain caught up with her mouth, “We barely know each other.”

Horacio took her hand, “I’ve been sure since the moment I ran into you.”

Eva wanted to believe him. She desperately wanted to. But, Josh’s voice kept rolling around in her head. It told her that no one would spare her a second glance, let alone want to bond with her.

He must have sensed her thoughts, “You don’t believe me.”

“I,” she said, “don’t know what to believe. I mean, we met and I freaked out because you smelled so good. And then you’re partnering with my husband and such and asshole. But, then I find out that you’re working with the feds and I think to myself ‘maybe this will work in my favor’. And I didn’t expect to like you so much. But, I do. I like you and its really fucking up my life.”

Why was she talking so fast? And why was her voice so high?

He kissed her.

The kiss lingered, sweet and soft. His lips were warm against hers and he took nothing that she wasn’t willingly, enthusiastically giving. Eva inhaled his scent, touched with the fading notes of the cologne he preferred. She wanted to keep kissing him forever.

Against her mouth, Horacio murmured, “I told you I would do anything for you. If you want the bond, its yours.”

Eva caught his eyes, “Yours, too.”

He hummed, “Ours, then.”

Ours.

She couldn’t place all the emotions that passed through her body. They moved so quickly that she could grasp them. Eva could only observe. Swimming in the midst of all the turmoil was the thing that she feared more than any strike by Josh’s hand, more than any nail Alexei could drive into her.

It was hope.

Small. Twinkling. Barely perceptible hope.

Hope for a better life. Hope that someone could actually care about her. Hope that together they might make it through to the end of it.

Breaking away, Horacio asked, “Are you still hungry?”

Eva shook her head. After so long without, her stomach protested eating anything more. She was beginning to feel a new kind of fatigue that only came after a satisfying meal. The bed beneath her was calling her name. Lifting her hand, she hid a yawn behind it, blinking sleepily.

Horacio smiled fondly at her. Then, with perfunctory movements, set the tray on one of the nightstands, “Time for bed, hmm?”

Eva wasn’t going to disagree with him. She pushed her legs beneath the covers, ignoring the clink of the chain. Sliding down, she snuggled down into  the mattress and laid her head on her pillow.

Horacio rested his weight on his elbow and brushed her hair away from her face. His expression was soft and entreating, “Can I stay with you tonight?”

The thought of sleeping next to him through the rest of the night was so overwhelming that Eva found it difficult to answer.

He took her silence as apprehension, “You can say no. I can go back to my apartment.”

Her hand slipped from the covers and grasped his arm as if she could keep him there with touch alone, “No! No… you can stay. Josh won’t get back until tomorrow evening, right?”

He nodded.

“Okay,” she said, “You can stay.”

Horacio’s eyes dropped to her mouth and she knew he wanted to kiss her. And, he might have done so if she hadn’t yawned wide half a second later. She shared his laughter as she rubbed tiredly at her eyes. The bed shifted as he straightened and reached for the back collar of his t shirt. Eva settled in to watch him undress.

God, but he was gorgeous. All thick muscle and smooth skin. The glint of a gold chain danced across his broad chest. A medallion with an imprint that she couldn’t quite make out hung just below the hollow of his throat. It was something that would normally be hidden away, warm from the heat of his body. Eva wanted to touch it, feel the hot metal between her fingertips.

Horacio toed off his shoes as he tugged open his belt. He slipped off his jeans and folded them in half before tossing them onto a nearby chair. Then, he sat on the bed and bent over to pull off socks that he tucked into his shoes.

If Eva were any more alert, her heart might be pounding with nervous excitement as he shifted around to turn off the light and settle under the covers. As it was, all she could do was appreciate the muscles rolling across his body as he moved.

He scooted closer to her and dropped a kiss to her mouth, “Goodnight, Eva.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

[romantic-reveries]

Just had a guy tell me he’s falling in love with me and like—is this what they mean by fuck around and find out?

It’s all so annoyingly serendipitous. He’s been weirdly good for me on the heels of B. He’s so verbally validating and affectionate. He’s this weird culmination of manifestations—I’d been wanting someone to fool around with who would dirty talk me straight out of my mind, and boom, there he was. It literally makes me feel drunk, and the orgasms? My god.

With B, we’d stay on the phone until we decided we were gonna sleep, and I would sometimes wish we could stay on the phone until we fell asleep—all night. Maybe wake up together. This one asked me to do that only a few days in. Something I’ve wanted—not specifically with B, but I did think about it with him—was one day with a partner, to read to each other. Read poetry or a book or something. And when B and I decided to have a two-person book club, I thought ‘maybe’. This one asked me if I wanted him to read to me within the first few nights, and recently, asked me to read to him. And he recited a poem to me from memory.

But he’s not what I would want for a relationship. Even if I weren’t still hung up on B, this one is so… emotionally tumultuous. I’ve worked so damn hard to heal and be better. I need a partner who is stable. I can’t fix someone, and I don’t want to have to. I deserve someone who has already done the fixing themselves. And this one tries—I have to give him that. He said part of what attracts him to me is that I’m so emotionally stable and level, which is… weirdly validating, but again, like a really weird fucking mirror of the situation with B. Like the other side of a coin, and now I’m the healthy one, observing myself in someone else’s body.

I went from wanting someone stable to being that to someone else. And this guy, he lives three hours further from me than B did, and yet he’s saying the drive is no big deal—that if we met, if we ended up dating, he’d come to me, or he’d come pick me up and bring me to stay with him for a week (which would be a 20 hour drive, all told, here and back twice.) That feels like an insane ask. Which, he just flew to Europe a few months ago to meet a girl he started dating online, so yeah, I guess—what’s five hours to him?

It’s just—so weirdly paralleled it’s fucking mind-boggling. And he reminds me a lot of me. A more unhealed version of me, with worse mood swings than I ever had, but the same struggles nonetheless. He even mentioned how he wants someone emotionally stable, which “maybe makes him sound like an asshole”, and maybe isn’t fair since he “has issues too” and I’ll be damned if that isn’t exactly what I’ve been thinking for myself lately. I even said as much to someone, that maybe it was unfair of me to feel that way since I have issues too, but I’ve worked so hard to heal.

And then I was talking with my grandma last night before bed, and I mentioned, realizing how much this guy likes me and I don’t feel insecure or anything except for the occasional moment when I suddenly feel very attached, how it’s all a perspective game based on old emotional patterns (unworthiness, mostly) that’s breeding those feelings of insecurity. It’s not about the other person, it’s about me. How I was drowning in it with B because I liked him so much it made me insecure and irrational. How I suddenly realized how much of what happened was kind of my fault for getting so in my head. Anyway, when I mentioned this guy having feelings for me, she said something to the effect of not wanting to lead him on, and I said I wasn’t, he knew how I felt, I’ve been very upfront, he’s even said he doesn’t know what he wants, etc etc.

Just to get on the phone with him and him drop that on me. The timing was uncanny.

I can’t help but feel like this was supposed to happen like this. Like I needed to learn from it, and I am.

I even had an insane epiphany about B after that conversation last night. I feel this sense of pattern more keenly than I ever have. I’ve often felt like a metaphorical ping pong ball, disorganized and bouncing all over the place. This is the first time it’s felt so methodical. Like there’s a method to this madness called life.

I realized with B, that while I thought I was being “realistic” about things in trying to keep myself safe, I actually was just running scared. I was feeling rejected and I wanted to cut things off before he could, because I felt so sure that he would. I didn’t feel good enough for him partly because I liked him so much (which always makes me insecure because it’s sort of putting someone on a pedestal), but also because he was so stable and put-together that it didn’t make sense to me for him to want me. I was afraid that if he changed his mind, having all of these great qualities that I admired, and knowing me probably better than anyone bar my grandma, that it would reaffirm that I wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t about him—it was about me. I’m accountable for my own feelings. But I made them his problem, and I assumed the worst of him based on past experiences with other people and that was excruciatingly unfair of me.

And I feel so light, realizing that. Because I haven’t really quite been able to flesh it out ‘til now. I knew I reacted how I did out of fear and because I didn’t feel good enough. But I couldn’t quite parse it out to that level and really understand it, and I do now, and it’s liberating and wonderful to know.

[alarajrogers]

upcoming WIP

This is the first part of the next 52 Story and I wanted to share it with you guys because I cannot think of another place where this would be as profoundly relatable.

This isn't autobiographical at all. I don't even use Slack. :-)

The following is a description of ADHD hell (not literally hell, this guy is supposed to be alive) and may be triggering to, well, probably all of us.

***

Jason had promised his boss he’d have a debugged version of the code checked in by morning.

He’d been tracking down a bug when he’d gotten sidetracked reading Stack Overflow. Dammit. He’d just lost an hour, and he still had no idea why his code wasn’t working the way it was supposed to, and it was 10 pm. Teresa was expecting a new version to be checked in by 9 am and she was expecting that it would run.

This was a job for more Coca-Cola. Jason got up, went downstairs and got himself a slice of pizza and a cold Coke.

His mom, also burning the late night oil at the kitchen table, hunched over her laptop, said, “How is it going? You think you’ll have what your boss is expecting by tomorrow?”

No. “Yes,” Jason said. “I just need a few more hours to track this down.”

“Well, you’re running out of them. You’d be better off getting a good night’s sleep, then waking up fresh in the morning early enough to work on it then.”

Mom was 57 and had apparently forgotten everything she had ever known about how night owls worked, despite having spent her younger years routinely staying up until 2 am. “Is that what you’re doing?” Jason couldn’t help saying.

“I’ve got a house showing tomorrow, I just have to make sure that I have my talking points memorized.”

“Why? Does the house really suck?”

“It doesn’t really suck. It’s a good house, really. Great bones, a nice big yard. But I’m gonna have to redirect the prospective owner’s attention away from how ugly the carpet is and things like that, because the seller? Whoo-ee. There’s people who have no taste, and there’s people who never fix anything, and there’s people who own dogs, and then there’s my seller, who is all three.” She sighed. “I tried to get them to rip the carpet out and install hardwood flooring before putting the house on the market, but the market is hot right now; I don’t blame them for wanting to charge forward. I just think they’d get more if their house didn’t smell like dog and look like water damage had a horrible transporter accident with the 1970’s.”

“That bad, huh?” He leaned up against the fridge, sipping his Coke. “You wanna go over your spiel with me, Mom? Some late night practice before you go to bed?”

“Yeah, actually, that sounds good.”

So Mom talked enthusiastically, if hoarsely, about the four bedrooms and the two and a half bathrooms and the recently modernized kitchen and how great the neighborhood was, and Jason listened, because he wasn’t contributing nearly as much to the mortgage as his mom was and she was also paying most of the utilities, so her career was important, not to mention what stress did to her heart.

When he got back to his computer it was 11:30 and he’d finished his Coke and pizza. He thought about getting ice cream, but best not to do that until Mom went to bed, if he didn’t want to get sucked into another conversation. Not that conversations with Mom were bad; they were much more entertaining than debugging code, which was the problem.

He opened up his coding window, stared at it for thirty seconds while doing nothing, and then convinced himself that maybe Reddit would have an answer to his question.

It didn’t. It did have answers to how to solve a particularly difficult problem in his current favorite game, a number of people who wanted to know if they were the asshole, some great reviews of movies on streaming that he hadn’t had a chance to watch yet, political rants, and some really entertainingly stupid coding mistakes that people had posted.

It was 12:30 am. Teresa was expecting this at 9 and she was expecting it to work.

His eyes glazed. The act of reviewing the code for the tenth time, looking for the bug he hadn’t yet been able to find despite knowing the general area it had to be in, was almost physically painful. He checked his brackets, again. The error didn’t look like a missing close bracket, but that didn’t mean anything. If he had a dollar for every time the error didn’t look like a missing close bracket but turned out to be one, he’d have maybe twenty dollars, which wasn’t a lot in terms of actual money but was a lot of times for the same stupid thing to happen in his code.

The software was supposed to warn him when there was an unclosed bracket, but half the time, if the code was particularly complex, it didn’t. It just re-interpreted the bracket locations and then his code broke.

One more time. Stepping through. Why the fuck was it stopping there? There was nothing there that could account for the error.

Time to go get ice cream. Maybe some sugar would help him stay awake and focused enough to get this done. Another Coke, possibly, too.

When he sat back down, he had Discord messages, so he needed to check them. And messages on Slack, which he could be checking in the morning, and probably should be, but maybe one of his co-workers had found an answer to his problem. They hadn’t, but Priyal had a different question and that one, he thought he could quickly get an answer to, so he fired up Google, dug in, and got her answer for her, which he sent. She’d have it in the morning. Unlike Teresa, who probably would not have what she was expecting.

It was 2 am. Stupid of him to get sidetracked with Priyal’s problem when he was having such difficulty with his own. He flicked over to Reddit again because this was unbearably boring and if he didn’t give himself a break from it, he’d fall asleep.

But he had to go back to debugging the code. Or to sleep. He could handle Teresa being pissed off in the morning a lot better if he got some sleep.

Third page of the subreddit he was on. Four. Man, he needed to keep up with this stuff, there was so much here he hadn’t read yet.

Fifth page of the subreddit. He really, really needed to get back to work. It was 2:30.

A screenshot of something really stupid from Cicada. Damn, someone actually posted something that stupid? Over to Cicada to see if there was context that explained it. There wasn’t, but there was a lengthy thread of people absolutely shredding the OP. Including someone he followed, and he should probably catch up with that.

No, he should get off Cicada and go back to coding. Or bed. His eyes were burning. Bed was probably a better idea. Give up on finishing the debug, tell Teresa he hadn’t found it yet and would need another day.

That was an interesting news article, though. He had to check that out.

No, he didn’t. He needed to go to bed.

Jason’s mouse clicked the link to the article. His eyes read the page, despite burning with exhaustion. Some frantic voice in his head was yelling, screaming, get up, put the computer down, you need to be awake to deal with Teresa in the morning, it’s late, you’re doing nothing useful, get up.

Back to Reddit.

Stop this. Get up. Go to bed. You need to go to bed.

3:30 am. He could barely keep his eyes open, but they were still riveted to the computer, his butt still glued to his chair.

Get up get up get up and go to bed, go to bed, turn the monitor off, you need to go to sleep so you can deal with Teresa tomorrow, get up, go to bed, go to bed

4 am. Look, there was his Firefox home tab, with articles from Pocket. A few of those looked interesting.

Don’t read them, you need to sleep, you need to sleep

Right, right, he didn’t have time to read them right now. He just needed to open them all so they would be there for him tomorrow. If he didn’t do that, Pocket would refresh and he’d lose all of them.

Wow, did they really find carbon deposits on the moon? He had to check that out.

Stop it, stop it, you have to stop it, you need to sleep, stop it

5 am. There was no way he’d be up at 9 to deal with Teresa.

Email. “Hey, I’ve been up all night bashing my head against this thing and I’ve made progress—” This was a lie. “—but it’s still not running. I’m gonna have to look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow. I’ll be logging in around 11 am.” This was also a lie, it would probably be closer to noon. But since he worked from home, all he needed to do was drag ass out of bed around 10:30 to send everyone a status update, tell them he was diving into the code and probably wouldn’t see incoming notifications until he came up for air, and then dive back into his bed instead.

Set an alarm for 9:30 am. Set an alarm for 10 am. He’d blow through them both, of course, but they’d wake him up enough to actually wake up when the 10:30 alarm went off, and then he’d convince himself to get up and send the status message by promising himself he’d return to bed.

Check out that article about a different way to manage your ADHD?

No. Go to sleep. Off the computer. Sleep.

Right, but obviously, he needed to put on his Spotify for music to fall asleep to, and adjust the volume because he couldn’t let it be too loud or it would wake Mom up, calm and peaceful or not.

Pop over to Reddit one last time.

5:30 am. Sleep!

The panic finally overwhelmed the inertia and he managed to drag himself off his chair, turn the monitor off, and stumble to bed. Now to get some sleep.

Oh, except now, he couldn’t sleep because he was overwhelmed by his anxiety and fear about not getting enough sleep to deal with Teresa even if he slept until noon because she was going to be seriously pissed off with him because this was the third time he’d blown the deadline.

It was another hour before exhaustion finally claimed him, and he knew that because the sun had risen.

***

He’d never set the 10:30 alarm.

He’d never set the 10:30 alarm, he’d blown through 9:30 and 10 just like he’d planned, but he’d never turned on the 10:30 alarm, so it was half past noon and he’d never sent that status message, so everyone would know he overslept way past the point Teresa would be okay with after an all nighter, and there was a meeting at 1 pm and he had to shower and shave because it was going to be a meeting with video so he couldn’t look like he’d just dragged himself out of bed.

Or maybe he could. He sent Teresa a message on Slack. I think I’m sick. My throat’s sore, and I’ve got a migraine. And I don’t have the program working anyway, so there’s really nothing to show anyone. Can we postpone until tomorrow?

The response was almost immediate. You need to figure out how to manage your time better. You’re sick because you stayed up all night.

Yeah, but I was trying to solve the bug.

If you can’t get something fixed by 11 pm, it’s not going to get fixed. You should have gone to bed.

I know, but I wanted to try. I was getting close. This was a lie. I thought I could get it done before morning.

Yes, and instead you made yourself sick and the program still doesn’t work. ☹ I’ll postpone the meeting this time, Jason, but we need results before tomorrow. Sorry that you’re sick but you know as well as I do it’s because you didn’t get any sleep.

Yeah, I know. I’ll pull myself together, have some coffee, and get back to work. I’ll try to have it done before 5. This was a lie. He knew perfectly well he wasn’t going to get it done by 5, not when he was this tired.

Do you want me to have Jorge review it? Maybe he can see something you missed?

No, that would be the worst possible thing, because then Jorge would know that he’d made basically no progress last night. I don’t want to add to his workload, but if I’m running into trouble later today I’ll pass it over to him, see if adding some eyeballs might help.

All right, I’ll let him know.

And now Jason was awake, the imminent terror of Jorge finding out that he had done basically nothing last night flooding him with enough adrenaline that he could focus enough to turn on his monitor and get back to work.

[cobi-4056]

[E01] camera controls

Pictures

frozen motion;

blurred motion;

min. depth of field;

Writing

frozen motion;

During the last moments of her life, Lena walked around the room. She felt that time stopped around her. The air didn’t hit her the same way, she didn’t feel the effect of gravity on her body and the room didn’t have any sounds, save for her own breath. As she walked, she saw her mother crying by the bed, her hands covering her whole face and her body curling up to get as close as possible to Lena’s. She hadn’t felt the pressure of her mother’s torso on top of her own. She did her absolute best to reassure her mother, but no matter how hard she tried, her body had already stopped living. Now, this still moment was all she would ever see.

blurred motion;

It was way too late for him to be walking home. The night was only painted by a couple flickering light poles. There was no moon to guide his way. With every step he took, it felt like the lights behind him stayed as if to protect him from the darkness that insisted on enveloping him. He closed his eyes and tried to keep a steady breath but failed. The longer time dragged on, the more it seemed that some copies of his body dragged behind him. Some of them reached out to him to try and make him stay still, but he knew he had to get home as soon as possible, no matter how many figures around him tried to stop him.

depth of field;

Miriam forgot her glasses at home. She hadn’t noticed until she tried to read the sign at the entrance to her workplace, which meant she would have to act like a big girl and move on from it. She could always squint. 

To make things worse, they had to decorate the office for some stupid, unimportant celebration that she didn’t quite get. To her, it was torture. Being as much of a perfectionist as she was, she couldn’t just blindly set up the balloons and streamers wherever she wanted, she had to make sure that they looked at least symmetrical from every angle. She spent at least two hours fixing streamers, walking away, then squinting enough for the edges of the decorations to become less muddy. Whenever she noticed something off, she went back and repeated the process. At the end of the day, all of this adjusting and re-adjusting her eyes to fit whatever she needed caused her to have the worst, most constant headache.

challenges; –What difficulties did you find when trying to apply the three photographic techniques to writing? Writing this assignment was hard because I felt like I kept being too literal. I noticed that I’m not great at drawing comparisons (or metaphors, or similes, or literary devices in general), which made it very difficult for me to not erase everything I was writing for this exercise. The one that was the hardest for me was blurred motion, I kept switching ideas because I wasn’t satisfied with the way I was describing scenes. One of these ideas was about a ballerina that moved really quickly, so no one in the audience could see what she was doing. I’m really sad that I couldn’t make it work, because it could’ve been something gorgeous.

–What limitations did you find when you tried to apply these techniques to your photographs?

I have very mixed feelings about frozen motion. I think it can look really cool, but since the shutter speed has to be really fast, it’s really tricky to capture the right moment. These pictures also come out looking too dark or too bright, which is frustrating to me.

For blurred motion, I had trouble deciding why I would do that instead of trying to get a clearer picture. I stopped thinking about it that way after remembering The Making of a Perfect Martini by Guy Buffet. Now I’m leaning more towards the idea that movement/motion is worth capturing, since we don’t ever see someone standing perfectly still. Blurred motion is more similar to my eyes than frozen motion is.

As for the depth of field, I feel like I didn’t have much trouble. I love playing around with the lens and figuring out what you can and can’t focus on. What frustrated me a little bit was that sometimes I would see the perfect image through the viewfinder but the picture itself would come out blurry and not very good. 

[shg-experiment]

Day 1 of being a hot girl.

My phone was in the sitting room, charging, because there’s no plug on my side of the bed. So I woke up without an alarm- that seems hot. My boyfriend (who already thinks I’m hot and loves me an egregious amount just the way I am, is unaware of this experiment. It seemed counter-productive to tell him about it. I will just leave him as an unchanging variable and let him enjoy the benefits of this experiment without telling him what I’m doing.) had already gotten out of bed, so I woke up alone. Here’s the thing, I love sleep. I love going to bed- as early as I can help it- and sleeping as long as I need to. My happy place is between 8-9 hours (closer to 9). When he goes to bed with me, at an earlier time, he literally can’t stay asleep, and will get up before me- which is what happened today.

So I woke up without my phone. It was nice to not look at my phone right away- that honestly felt like something a hot girl would do. D came in and gave me a kiss and told me to keep resting. I kind of did: I laid in bed and thought about how a hot girl like myself would start her day. The possibilities flooded in. I could do some yoga, go on a run, stay in bed and feel my way around (if you catch my drift), read, have breakfast, take a shower… hmmm. Lots of deciding to do. Maybe this is why all those successful people write out their day the night before. Maybe I’ll implement that- later in the experiment, though. I ran through the possibilities and decided to do some yoga and have a green tea. Chic. (I should say that my legs were incredibly sore from going to the gym a few days prior, so the idea of moving any further than my bedroom felt a bit too ambitious first thing.)

I stumbled up, got the tea on, and spread out my mat. I have joined Yoga with Adriene’s 30 day challenge about 3 weeks late. And it took me three days between doing days four and five (like I said, my legs were unbearably sore) but I did it- and that’s what matters. I’m not trying to prove anything! I’m just being hot for me. The yoga was nice, and honestly I think it helped the soreness a bit. However my arms felt weak doing Adriene’s planks and such, but alas. One day at a time. After yoga, I realized that I was getting hungry. So I ate breakfast! Hot girls eat when they’re hungry- that’s a hill I will die on. I can tell you one thing- people who starve themselves do NOT feel hot (unless, I presume, they take a lot of drugs of some sort, which I don’t have the time, money, or stress levels to do.)

I had some oatmeal, and then I got dressed for running and errands. The sun was coming up and it felt a shame not to go to the park for a bit. The leggings I chose were loud and proud. I put on a tight sports bra and a quarter zip that showed off the goods. But then because it was cold I put on two more layers. How does one become a hot girl in the winter? It seems like a cold endeavor, if one is trying to show off all the time. But, I’m not, not really, and I knew I was hot underneath all of my coats, so that’s that. I also put on a cap and sunglasses. However, on my way walking to the shop I passed a man walking his dog and then took off my sunglasses. I felt kind of stupid wearing them because the sun was so low that I was just walking in the shade. Ah well, no matter, I still had my headphones in.

I was listening to a podcast that I’ve been enjoying recently. When I passed people on the street, instead of getting nervous that they might be looking at my butt in the afore mentioned loud leggings, I realized I didn’t really care that much. I wasn’t paying attention to other people, so why would they pay attention to me. Plus, I was focusing on enjoying my podcast and getting to where I was going. Plus, my butt is hot and so what if someone took a wee peek. It doesn’t do me any harm. There, I said it.

I went to a bargain shop and bought a mirror for the bathroom. We had one, but long story short it gold moldy?? Really gross. The frame was wooden and the room was too damp for it. So we’d removed it… but it’s hard to be a hot girl if you can’t do your make up or check your hair in the bathroom mirror! So I bought a small hanging mirror that was ALL metal- hopefully no mold will grow on there. I also popped next door to get some heat protectant for my hair because I decided I would try to Do My Hair now. (That is NOT something I do very much… like I said, it would take me out of my comfort zone.)

Would a hot girl get overwhelmed in the hairspray aisle of a Super Drug? Well, I’m not sure, but I did. There just seemed to be so many products that all did the same thing and yet were all slightly different. It was hard to pick what I wanted because I didn’t really know what I wanted. Perhaps hot girls go through a lot of trial and error. This might’ve been where I could watch an influencer’s video reviewing different products… but I can’t quite do that to myself yet. I didn’t watch any product reviews but the day before I had watched some blowout tutorials, and that’s why I wanted to get heat protectant.

After making my purchase with some money from my tip jar, I headed back home in the sun. I realized when I passed people, I would look at them and smile. I would find something about them that I appreciated, something that made THEM hot, too. Is that the hot girl in me? It’s hard to say at that point. But it was nice not to feel like I was trying to avoid being noticed, or apologize just for existing.

I dropped off my goods and then went to the park. Still enjoying my podcast, I did a bit of a walk/run shuffle. (Sore legs, like I said.) I wasn’t really going for speed or even distance. I was going just to go. Moving consistently feels like something a hot girl would do with her body, and getting out in the sun for a bit felt right today. (I might get more into this later, but I am NOT about tracking exercise, over-exercising or anything like that. Not in the year of our lord 2023, no thank you ma’am. I’m about finding ways to move that bring me joy and feel right in my body… and ANY amount of movement that I do is more than my depression slump, so I’ll take it!)

Hot girl shower was great, and I washed my hair (which I had been needing to do for a few days). I even put on lotion and perfume when I got out. I attempted to wax my underarms, though for the most part it was unsuccessful. The attempt left me with slightly sore, blue, sticky (and hairy) armpits. Ah well, you can’t win them all. I got off the residual wax with some coconut oil and moved on with my day… I never said hot girls are completely hairless! Not to be deterred, I towel dried my hair, did my makeup and then began the blowout. Following the instructions I’d researched the previous day, I used the round brush my mother had given me for Christmas a decade ago. The tutorials said that a thin round brush would be best for my length of hair, but I was just going to use what I had, dammit! And ya know what? It worked alright! I put the heat protectant and some mousse in my hair before I began slowly sectioning and blowing the hair. It was slow going, but I didn’t feel as uncoordinated as I’d expected. Perhaps the planks with Adrienne have been building up strength after all. I succeeded in creating a bit of volume with a very cute flip out at the end. Go me! (It only took me like 45 minutes… hopefully I speed up, otherwise this will be a very time consuming experiment. Though, to be fair I saw a video once stating that your hair looks good for like three days after a blowout, so hopefully that rings true for me.)

D came in just as I was about to change out of the boxers that I’d put on to do my hair and into my jeans for the day. I hid behind the door as he came in because I was embarrassed. TSK TSK! Shame! No hot girl should be embarrassed by her hotness! But, alas, I’m still new. I just knew that he would give me attention and adoration, and I couldn’t take that! Even behind the door, he said I looked very pretty and gave me a smooch on the cheek before heading out on a walk of his own. It’s hard to remember but I think I may have shouted at him to go outside…

So I should say- I’m an actor. Well, kind of. I have two degrees in performance, including a Master’s, and have performed in many different situations as a singer, actor, writer and improviser, but am not currently working in anything at the moment. I’ve heard the term recently: I’m an “auditioning actor”. I like that better than “struggling actor”, though both are kind of true. I’d also been working as a chef up until recently, but I quit that job because I really hated doing it and it made me think of offing myself by walking into traffic more than usual. In general, the cons seemed to outweigh the pros, so I left a couple of weeks ago. Since then I’ve been applying and interviewing for other jobs, that seem like they will make me LESS depressed, but haven’t found anything yet. (Though I have to be honest for a moment, I kind of worry that even working for a fancy tech startup as a customer connection specialist or whatever the hell I apply for these days, with the ability to work remote in my comfy apartment with all manner of warm drinks at my fingertips, will STILL make me depressed. I mean, I’ll still be logging on every day with no end in sight, trying to meet goals or match progress or *insert corporate lingo here* that I don’t care about at all… That’s why I’m working on being hot. Because that’s in my experience and it’s something else to focus on that I am in charge of. I don’t have to wait for a casting director or an agent or a corporate recruiter to tell me that I’m good enough. I can just do these silly little things to feel better about myself, and can feel hot no matter WHAT I’m doing… even if I’m looking at spreadsheets.)

But as an actor, I’ve not given up on the dream yet and part of my goal today was to film a self-tape and update casting photos on an extras casting database that I’m a part of. All of the not-so-glamorous parts of the acting profession. This was added incentive to look nice and have my hair and makeup in an acceptable state. I started with the photos because I just needed to stand still at various distances from the camera, in an array of clothing options, looking in different directions. Headshot from the front, side, other side, back. Full length from the front, side, back. Dressed in a ‘smart’ out fit. Cocktail dress. Posh outfit, fit for the races. (I really guessed on this one because I’ve never been to any sort of races besides high school track meets, but I think they were more going for horse racing.) I even took a swimsuit shot today. For the year I’ve been a part of this casting database, I never had the courage to upload one of those, mostly because I didn’t want to have to take the photo. But in the last few months I got a new ring light that seems to be pretty flattering, and make taking self-tapes easier. I’ve also become a lot more body neutral. And ya know what? I thought I looked alright! Also, being unemployed made me feel a bit more desperate to get more extra work, and I figured the more photos they had they more chance I had of getting called for a job. Wishful thinking? Maybe.

I’ve been an extra on two different professional sets now, and I have to say- it’s really fun! I did two days on a TV set for a Netflix show, and I did one day on an indie film set. It also pays really well compared to most other performance jobs that I’ve had. It’s quite fun, because there’s just so much to look at, and watch. With all sorts of things going on, I find it really interesting. I even got to see a famous actress working who I really admire- that was pretty cool. Also, there’s people whose job it is to tell you exactly what you need to. I like the feeling of certainty that I’m in the right place, doing the right thing. It’s kind of like school, I guess. There’s clear outcomes for me, and I’m doing what I’m told. There aren’t that many situations like that in adulthood, I’ve found. Even if they say- okay, wait here for 2 hours before the next shot- I know where I’m supposed to be, and I’m getting paid. None of the projects that I’ve worked on have been released yet, so I’m not sure if I’ll be disappointed by the finished product. I’m trying to prepare myself to be a tiny blurred blob in the background, so hopefully I won’t be too disappointed.

After I uploaded the photos and updated my measurements on the website, I decided it was time for lunch! (Hot girls eat when they’re hungry!) I got to say hi to D after his walk, and he kept kissing me and telling me how pretty I looked. I made some eggs with veggies and it was seasoned really nicely. (I wasn’t lying about being a chef!) I’m finding that since quitting my job in the kitchen, I’m beginning to enjoy cooking again. It’s something that D and I would do together when we first started dating, but hadn’t been doing as much since I started working as a chef. Hopefully we can do more of that soon.

D works from home, as a software engineer, and he was having a lunch break as well, and then hopped back on to his computer while I washed up. I had a few job applications on my list that I’d wanted to apply for. It’s odd, but before I began this experiment, I would always feel such a block when trying to apply for new jobs. I would always feel insecure about my background, and how I was trying to spin my experience to fit the role. I’m quite an overthinker, and it would always seem to take me a long time. But for some reason, with my new momentum, I was able to apply for two whole jobs after lunch. One was for a recruitment position, and the other was for social media/content/marketing. The content one also asked me to submit a video with the application. I’d been thinking about it for a couple of days, and wasn’t sure which direction to go in. I’d had an idea that I had started the other day, but wasn’t sure about it. It seemed like a lot of work and the amount of work seemed impossible. But today? I just ran with my idea! I wasn’t overthinking it. I just did some googling, some screenshotting, and made the video! There was a bit of a hiccup because I wanted to use the video as a green screen, but when I did that the audio got all messed up. I’m not a very tech savvy person, but I found a compromise that implemented my idea, but didn’t mess the audio too bad.

I noticed my hair started looking less like a supermodel blowout and more like a collection of straw on which to place eggs. The volume was there, but the texture was pretty harsh… ah well, maybe I need to put more heat protectant on next time. I’ll keep trying different things.

Ultimately, I was just proud of my attempt to Do my hair. I was also proud that I’d managed to upload new photos for casting (something that is hard to do when you feel bad about yourself). I was also proud that I’d managed to submit for TWO corporate-type-jobs!

After dinner, I had a meeting with someone I’m going to be working with. In my unemployed state, I’ve been looking for any jobs that might give me more experience to flush out my LinkedIn. (Ick. I hate linkedin, but more on that later.) Out of the blue, one of my friends who is an assistant camp director who I’ve worked with off and on reached out because she was looking for someone to help plan online events for a network of people with special needs. I’d helped for a one-off Christmas event with the group last year, that I really enjoyed. I was really excited to be offered this position, and even though it’s super-super part-time, I figured could also be another line on the CV. So my meeting was with the coordinator of the events. It felt good to have sent off these applications, and then log on to another meeting. (Who knows, maybe the busy work of corporate life would suit me. Now that I’m hot, it all feels like a game anyway- but maybe it’s starting to feel like a game that I’m winning, instead of constantly staying behind.) The meeting also gave me some action points to get going with for the rest of the week. So, something to work on in the midst of my job search.

Overall, the day was quite good. I mean, I’ll have to adjust my schedule as needed, but it was nice to spend some time for myself this morning (yoga, go to the park, get ready) and then also to have things to get done and work on. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

[fe-fictions]

Can I request Dimitri, Dedue and Ashe having a nightmare about byleth being taken away by the spell of Zaharius (the Solon thing where she then merges with sothis) and when they wake up she isn't in bed so they panic and try to find her (she's at the training grounds or was reading at the desk) plz momo this was one of my faves I literally had a BL girls version I was writing myself cause I liked it so much lol

(Of course I can...!!! <3 )

Ashe: He shot up in a cold sweat with a heavy gasp. His limbs trembled before he realized what happened.

It was just a nightmare.

Watching you disappear into the void Solon summoned, only for you to never return…that wasn’t real. The reality was that you broke back through, and you were home.

Five years had passed in Ashe’s life where he relived that nightmare over and over, only to wake up and realize you were dead. At least, they thought you were. Now you were there, sleeping soundly beside him, and you were real. You hadn’t been taken from him.

“Goddess…” Ashe’s whisper was as shaky as his hands that pushed through his hair. He sat up in bed, elbows on his knees. He bent forward, trying to steady his breathing so as not to disturb you.

Your heartbeat was nowhere to be found, but your chest rising and falling beside him was something of a comfort.

He stared at you through the moonlit darkness, resting a hand on your shoulder as gently as possible. The slightest touch tended to wake you, after all.

Warm.

Steady.

Still there.

He nodded quietly to himself, allowing a little relief to ease his agitation.

“...Ashe?”

“Ah.” He glanced over when your hand covered his. You pulled him from your shoulder, kissing his fingertips. 

“You’re trembling…” The quiet observation flushed his cheeks. You pushed yourself up, facing him with a calculating stare and an even gaze. “Another nightmare?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He managed, not thrilled that his voice was equally as shaky as his hands. “I just needed to…uh…I needed to feel you.”

“Hm.” You looked at his hand again, having a pretty firm guess as to what the nightmare was about. 

Instead of talking about it, which you knew he would be unable to recount, you slipped back down into the blankets. You pulled him down with you, and gently pushed his head to your chest.

“I’m here.” You murmured into his hair, kissing his forehead. “I’m still with you.”

His vision blurred, quiet tears slipping down his cheeks. 

“Yes...” His hands curled into your shirt, pulling you into him. “You are.”

“I always will be.”

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

Dedue: The knight was used to late night patrols when he could not sleep. It had become a steady pattern for him after the monastery fell, before he was captured, and after he reunited with his lord, King Dimitri.

It was a healthy habit, and one that would not change even as he shifted his allegiance to his now wife, the Archbishop of Fodlan. 

However, tonight was slightly different.

He wasn’t patrolling so much as he was anxiously striding across the church grounds in search of his missing spouse.

The strides were efficient, but the anxiety was clouding his rationale. If it weren’t for that damned memory being twisted into a horrific nightmare…he wouldn’t have such a thundering feeling in his chest. It was upsetting, but not so much as thinking his wife wasn’t really there.

When he jolted awake from the terrible dream, he found you were missing from his side. The bed was cold; you’d been gone a while.

He paced in the room for a few minutes, hoping to calm himself down. You likely stepped out for a glass of water, or perhaps you were in the washroom. 

Only, not the washroom attached to your quarters.

Hm.

He opted to rush about the monastery, instead, checking the usual places you would be throughout the day. It was not the first time you had left him in bed at an odd hour, but it was the first time it happened after that damn memory. 

The thought of you not being there, even if it was peaceful…it unsettled him deeply.

The dining hall and kitchen was empty, as were the training grounds. You weren’t in the stables, you weren’t in the chapel- hells, you weren’t doing some odd midnight fishing, either. Where had his wife gone?

The panic in the back of his head told him it was long past time to alert the guards that you were missing. 

What if the dastards who tried to seal you away before had come back? What if Solon had somehow returned and had kidnapped you, and he had missed it all ebcause he was too wrapped up in his own twisted thoughts to wake up and notice?

Dedue didn’t realize he wasn’t breathing unti lhe heard the footsteps behind him, followed by a curious noise.

“Love?”

He stiffened, a soft gasp filling his lungs. Dedue turned to find you standing behind him, with a pile of flowers in your arms. 

“What are you doing out here, so late at night?”

“I…” He took a deep breath, and straightened his shoulders to try and recover some of his decorum. “I was looking for you.”

“Why?”

“I woke up and you were not in bed. You were…out here, for some reason. Are you all right?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I came out here because I was worried about you.”

Now he was intrigued. “Why were you worried about me? I was sleeping beside you.”

“You seemed to be having a bad dream. You kept groaning and tossing.” You explained, shifting the flowers in your arms with hesitance.

“It seems I woke you up with my dreaming…I’m sorry, Byleth. I was just reliving a bad memory. From back then.”

“Don’t apologize to me. It’s not like you can help it.” You smiled gently, “I was going to prepare you some lavender chamomile tea, for when you woke. I thought it would help soothe your nerves. But when I went to brew it, we didn’t have any lavender in the kitchen, so I went to the greenhouse to gather some. I hope you don’t mind.”

“You were going to do that for me?” 

You moved from foot to foot, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I was…I worried I might make you uncomfortable by doing so, but…I figured, you’re my husband, so I should probably take care of you. Unless you don’t want me to.”

You weren’t able to explain any further before broad arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You smelled of lavender, Dedue observed, squeezing you tight.

“Dedue?”

“I could never be more grateful to the goddess for bringing you to me.” He whispered fiercely, burying his face in your hair. He held you for a long while, bathed in moonlight in the middle of a silent courtyard.

It was a precious memory you swore never to forget.

“I love you, Byleth.”

“I love you, too.” You giggled shyly, resting your head on his chest with a contented sigh. 

Your ability to turn a terrible night into a wonderful one was something he would need in the coming years, but you were more than willing to help him with it.

Though, Dedue would attempt to politely suggest, next time he ough to help you brew the tea. It seemed five years of absence left your tea making a bit to be desired.

He was very lucky he was the most handsome creature you’d ever met…otherwise, you warned, you’d be making him brew his own sleeping tea, caring wife or not.

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

Dimitri: The night terror struck long after you had left the bedroom. You were in your office, playing catch-up since you couldn’t sleep.

Thankfully the maids knew where you were.

A flurry of rushed footsteps and panicked whispers struck your ears long before they actually made it to your door, but the pale faces told you everything you needed to know.

It was happening, again.

“My Queen! It’s-”

“How long has it been?” 

“O-only a few minutes. They’ve subdued him now, but…”

You nodded solemnly, exiting the office with urgency in every step. It did not take long before you could hear the crashing and shouting.

Dimitri was having another night terror, and you weren’t there to comfort him when he needed you.

It’d been so long since the last one, especially one where you weren’t immediately by his side to calm him before his panic became unmanageable.

Or rather, unmanageable by anyone other than yourself.

There were seven guards on him, with more racing to aid them as he tried to break free. Dimitri was delirious with panic, lancing your heart with worry.

“Where is she?!” He bellowed, throwing off one of them, “Solon!!”

That damn memory. You cursed to yourself, closing the rest of the distance and ordering the men to back away. 

“Where is Byleth?!”

“I’m here.” You grasped his wrists, forcing his hands back. You did not have to fight him; his sheer strength could overwhelm you in a second. 

So long as you were directly in front of him, though…you could easily capture his focus.

“I’m right here, Dimitri.” 

A confused noise left him, in place of the grunts and cries of anguish. It was a good sign. His eye was bleary, still not fully awake, but if he could look at you then it would be over.

His expression shifted some, his struggle slowly coming to a halt. He stared down at you, blinking rapidly. Finally, his gaze leveled, unflinching, staring directly at you.

“By…Byleth… Beloved?”

“It’s me.” You nodded, releasing his wrists tentatively. You held his face in your hands, offering a small smile. “It was just a bad dream.”

Dimitri’s arms closed around you, pulling you flush into hsi chest with nearly no mercy. His face was pressed into your neck, hiding the cold tear that stained your skin. You motioned the soldiers to back away. 

Crisis was averted.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I went to do some work because I couldn’t sleep. If I knew you’d be plagued by nightmares tonight, I never would have left.”

“That damned…Solon…” He breathed shakily, his voice little more than a trembling rasp. “That memory….it gets more twisted every time it comes…”

You nodded, stroking his hair quietly. 

“We will consult with Mercedes about it in the morning. I won’t let you suffer through this any longer…at the very least, without me there.” 

Your promise was sealed with a kiss, gingerly drawing his face to yours. He returned it with fervor, hands tightening on your waist. If there was some way to pull you closer to him, he would find it.

When he was finally able to separate himself from you, he was flushed, and the tear tracks remained on his skin. But at the very least, he seemed to regain himself.

“I’m…sorry, Beloved.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” You stroked his cheek, “You’ve been through more than any one man should have to go through. Of course you are still healing.”

“I wish I did not cause you such trouble.” He whispered, leaning into your palm. You shook your head.

“It is no trouble. I know you would do the same for me.”

“Without hesitation.”

Quietly, then,you returned arm in arm to your quarters. Dimitri was shaky returning to the bed. At least, until you slipped in beside him, and opened your arms to receive him. 

The king was only a man, then, seeking comfort in the arms of his precious wife.

You remained awake that night, determined to see through his nightmare and keep him soothed and resting. You stroked his hair tenderly, humming soft, aimless songs while his breathing deepened.

He would not be plagued by another nightmare, that night. 

[goddessofmischief]

➵ morning; after spending the first night together, character a spends their morning admiring character b before they wake up with adrian chase?

Daylight - Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reporter!Reader

Soundtrack: Listen to this song while you read. Requests open for Adrian Chase/Vigilante, especially x Reporter!Reader!

...

You loved your boyfriend.

There. You said it.

Then again... saying it wasn’t such a big deal, was it? Not when you’d said it... well.

So many times last night.

You squeezed your eyes shut, vividly remembering-

Well. The night had begun innocently enough.

“I’m really sorry about your shirt,” you said, unlocking your door and letting Adrian inside.

“It’s cool.”

“I mean, you kinda had it coming... you didn’t have to yell at those kids for graffiti’ing that wall. I am sorry they chased you with the spray paint, though.”

“Yeah, ha-ha,” he chuckled, though it sounded a little forced. “I could’ve... killed ‘em...”

You laughed, and he joined in, awkwardly, a minute too late.

Once you grabbed the soap, you began to unbutton his shirt, and, panicked, he smacked your hand away.

“Ow!”

“Sorry! I just... wasn’t expecting that. My bad. Sorry.”

“I should’ve asked first. My fault,” you assured him, and he smiled. “...Do you want to unbutton it yourself? I just have to get it into the washing machine as soon as possible, ‘cause... then it won’t stain.”

“No, I mean - you can do it. You can unbutton it. That’s okay.”

You reached for the buttons again, and it seemed like Adrian had stopped breathing. Finally, you peeled the shirt off, tossing it in your washing machine.

“There - oh.”

You hadn’t paid much attention while you were unbuttoning his shirt, and you suddenly wished you had.

Your boyfriend was... ripped.

There was no other word for it. He was literally the most muscular human being you’d ever seen.

“Do you... work out?” you asked dumbly, and he shrugged.

“I mean - it makes me better at my job, so I try-”

“You’re a reporter.”

“Yeah!” Adrian exclaimed, and it seemed like he had forgotten that. “Yeah, I am a reporter, but, uh... working out helps me focus on the next big... story. Yep.”

You exhaled, trying not to stare. He tapped his bicep.

“Do you want to... want to feel?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, breath shaky. You rested your hand on his bicep, trying not to think about the way Adrian was gazing lovingly down at you.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” he repeated. “...Wow.”

You looked up at him, and your eyes met. His hand brushed a lock of hair behind your ear.

“...I think I love you.”

“What?” you almost shouted, and even he seemed surprised by what he had said.

“I think I love you. I love you.”

You stood up on your tip-toes, kissing him. He wrapped an arm around your waist.

“I love you, too,” you whispered.

“Say it again,” he teased, and you smiled, shyly.

“I love you, I love you, I love you-”

...Which had led to the later events of last night, and the shockingly ripped, 5′11 man ending up curled next to you, his arm still draped around your waist - as well as a black sheet and comforter - and little else.

You could have watched him for hours. Asleep... he almost looked like an angel, with messy brown curls... and a soft smile.

He began to stir, though, and the moment was broken. You shut your eyes, miming sleep, curious as to what he’d do.

Curious if he would leave.

But... he didn’t. He just leaned in, and held you tighter, breath hot against your neck. You turned over, and his eyes opened again.

“...Hi.”

“Hi,” you repeated, biting your lip. He propped himself up on one elbow, observing you.

“I’m thinking waffles. What are you thinking?”

“Waffles?”

“Yeah. Not to brag, but I’m kind of amazing at them.”

“You want to make breakfast?”

“Well, yeah - if you want. Is that so crazy? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, uh-uh,” you said, shaking your head, still dumbfounded. He planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Okay, then. I’m gonna go make my girlfriend some waffles. And then we’re gonna sit in bed and eat 'em - and I’ll try not to get crumbs over your sheets.”

You loved your boyfriend.

[sukirichi]

closer | gojo satoru x reader

a/n: aaah my first ask and it’s a request! thanks so much this is so kind and sweet of you 🥺 and here it is! I’m not sure if it’s exactly what you wanted but I hope you like it anyway! 

summary: in which Gojo has the need to be closer to you after a long day of hard work

pairings: jealous! Gojo x reader

warnings: none, other than this isn’t proofread! (This is just a fluffy domestic short fic!)

masterlist ! 

The best part about being the strongest jujutsu sorcerer isn’t the power (although Gojo basks in that too) but rather the fact that he allows himself to completely tear his walls down and be putty in your hands once he comes home from work.

Gojo would never say it out loud that the best part of his days is waking up next to you, pressing kisses in your still sleepy face and you whining for five more minutes, then watching as you wobble like a penguin to the shower so you can start your day. Although he doesn’t really ask much from you, his heart still swells every time you make him a sandwich, kiss it and claim that it’s “made with love” before he proudly shows off his ‘breakfast’ of the day to his students.

Even in work, he still thinks of you. It’s quite impossible for this man to stop thinking of you; you and him never left that honeymoon phase even after two years of marriage and a much longer time of dating.

He could be exorcising a curse then get distracted afterwards after seeing an Italian restaurant that he just knows you’ll love. Next thing you know, Gojo flicks his wrist and exorcises the curse in a flash before hopping into that restaurant to look at the menu. Loving is knowing; Gojo takes the time to see if the restaurant would be respectful of your allergies every time before booking reservations.

It’s no secret that this man is completely enamoured with you, if his sappy good morning kisses accompanied with light, teasing touches down your legs is not an indication already. Gojo is confident and feels safe in your relationship and he’s never the type to get jealous because Gojo is Gojo – who else would be better than him for you?

Or at least that’s what he used to believe, until he comes home with a bag of pumpkin spice bread for you, arms wide open and a “Darling~” about to leave his lips when he sees your current predicament.

Nanami is leaning against one of the chairs in your cafe downstairs from your home, the usual stoic man’s lips and cheekbones slightly raised in laughter as you tell him something about your day. Gojo can’t exactly understand the worse falling from your lips because he’s too focused on the way you’re leaning forward, eyes absolutely crinkled into half-moons while you share a strawberry tart with him. Gojo sees the cups of tea have already been emptied, meaning Nanami has been here for a much longer time than he is welcomed.

Gojo clenches his jaw. He’s told you many times you should get a bell so you’d know when a customer comes in, but now he’s thankful you’re stubborn and refused to have one because he can hide in one of the propped up tables and chairs hidden in the darkness.

He can’t help the sigh he releases. He’s late – like he always is.

You’re a regular human who isn’t able to see curses. You’ve only ever known about their existence ever since you started dating Gojo, but other than that, you’re completely unaware of how these things work. It doesn’t bother Gojo. In fact, he quite likes that he can be just a regular man around you, and he basks in the comfort of not having to worry about your safety if ever you were also like him.

He met you when you were just still a barista who helped your boss bake from time to time. Gojo was only a student then who hopped from one cafe to another in search of the best delicacy, but he got more than what he bargained from when he met the fresh-faced and bubbly young woman standing behind the counter whose smile was sweeter than the most sugary dessert you’ve ever made.

As the two of you grew older, Gojo supported you in building your own cafe since you’re so passionate about it and it’s been your dream since childhood.

He still remembers how you’d spend hours in the kitchen trying out new ingredients, so much so that you forget to eat on most days. Gojo is left with the task of literally hauling your ass up upstairs and force you to shower with him. You lie that you’re not really tired, but the moment his skilled hands roll the tension out of your shoulders, a contented and grateful sigh paints those lips he loves to kiss.

One of the things Gojo loves doing with you is taste-testing. He’s not around the house most of the time when you work since he’s a busy man himself, but on the days he actively chooses to annoy Principal Yaga and go AWOL, he’d sit obediently on the counter and let you use him as your own taste experimenting dummy.

When night falls and you’re just about ready to head to bed; satisfied and proud of another day of hard work, Gojo comes home early to help you clean up the cafe and prop the furniture so you don’t overstrain your muscles.

Or at least, he wants to come home early to help you. It’s just that he often gets carried away on his missions and stays behind a lot longer than he’d like because the world of curses is extremely demanding. After seeing that you probably already lifted all these heavy chairs and cleaned up everything by yourself even when you’re tired, and you still have the ability to smile and laugh like that in Nanami’s presence when he should be the one on the receiving end, Gojo is unable to fight back the twisting feeling that pools in his stomach.

Forcing a huge grin on his face, Gojo loudly smacks the paper bag in the table between you and Nanami, his hands resting on the blond’s shoulder who only groans at his presence. “Yo!” He greets, winking when your eyes gleam brighter now that your husband is home.

There’s no trace or hint of anything that could indicate you’re upset with him because he didn’t come home early. Instead, you bow and excuse yourself while picking up your cups and the small plate where remnants of your signature tart had been, and Gojo watches with longing eyes as you disappear in the back room.

Now that you’re gone, Gojo drops in your seat, takes off his blindfold, and glares at Nanami. “Nanamin,” he drawls out. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here – getting chummy with my wife, no less.”

Gojo knows he’s being petty and childish. Of course he is. This is Nanamin we’re talking about; the man is as frigid and stone and he’s as interested in romantic relationships as much as he respects Gojo Satoru. Plus, it’s you, and you have eyes for Gojo and Gojo only, but it’s also Gojo Satoru who’s mixed in the formula, and he’s not the least bit ashamed that he’s being immature right now.

Of course he’s jealous. Of course he’s possessive.

You’re his sweet, little wife – of course he doesn’t like it.

As if reading his mind but couldn’t be bothered to deal with him, Nanami slides an envelope across the table. “Ijichi took a sick leave so he couldn’t give this to you. I was tasked to hand it over to you instead so I came around. It’s not my fault you come home late and your wife insisted I have a short meal before I came home,” Gojo opens his to retort something stupid when you emerge from the back, pretty face tired yet still patient as ever.

“Leaving already, Nanami?” You smile up at him, hand slipping through Gojo’s bigger and rough ones. He doesn’t know why the gesture leaves him stunned, especially when you step close enough that he feels your heat on this sudden cold night. He’s so entranced by everything about you he doesn’t even notice the blond bidding his farewell.

Gojo watches as you turn to face him, smaller hands reaching up to caress his face. Now that his blindfold is gone, his hair falls down to forehead, your dainty fingers brushing them away from his eyes so you could marvel in its beauty.

Like a little kid, he melts into a puddle when you do that exact eye-smile he’s seen you do with Nanami, only this time, it’s reserved, private, and intimate.

Gojo shuts his eyes in the process, nearly stumbling forward, which he doesn’t really let happen with anyone because he’s the Gojo Satoru; strongest jujutsu sorcerer. But you don’t mind, you never do, and if anything it only makes you laugh when he pretends to be deadweight by collapsing into the crook of your neck.

“What a big baby,” you tease with your hand rubbing up and down his back in a soothing motion, all the tiredness and exhaustion from his day disappearing into thin air.

“Yes,” he concedes as he follows you up the stairs where you both change into your pyjamas and settle in for the night. “But I’m your big baby.”

The nickname makes you laugh, head thrown back as giggles erupted in your chest. You’ve already removed your makeup, hair down from your work hairnet and flowing in loose waves. Gojo stifles a gasp then, because you’re in his arms, in his bed, smelling like him, and you’re so soft, so free, so vulnerable and the way you lean into his shoulders while he rubs his cheek on the crown of your head makes him feel like he’s falling in love all over again.

He’ll never get tired of this – of you.

The mere thought of seeing you with someone else that isn’t him doesn’t sit well with Gojo. Now he understands why he’s so jealous and immature – it’s because he hasn’t wanted anyone or anything as much as he loves you.

He can’t imagine a life where he’ll wake up to his mornings without your limbs sprawled across his longer ones, or how he may never hear your sleep talks about birds and butterflies; which is utterly ridiculous, but because it’s you, he finds it adorable. Sometimes Gojo wonders how he ever even lived before meeting, but of course, those were days filled with nothing but him doing weird stupid shit.

Not that he’s stopped doing that, but now at least he’s doing those weird stupid with you.

And he only ever wants to share those with you, so he doesn’t and will never allow anyone else to take what’s rightfully his. You’re his wife, the love of his life, the sunshine in his mornings and the sunset of his beautiful dusk.

He doesn’t care if he’s petty – he’s got every right to be jealous because Gojo Satoru never shares what’s his.

When his mind races back to the way you smile for Nanami again, his hold on you grows tighter. You don’t complain when Gojo suddenly presses his lips into yours, a breathy moan blessing his ears once he finally moves on top of you. Gojo runs his hand under your – his – shirt, letting those talented hands of his roam upon the expanse of his skin like an artwork he’ll never get tired of looking at.

“Missed you,” he mumbles in between the lip-locking, leaning closer when your nails start to scratch his scalp as a way to soothe him from the night. Nothing about the kiss is hurried or fervent; rather, it’s calm and steady, slow and passionate, much like how everything he feels for you is similar to a calm, rainy day where he’ll stay in with a hot cup of chocolate.

You’re home – warmth and comfort – and you know you’re his just as he knows he’s yours, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing you like he wants you to never forget that.

You shiver when Gojo’s fingers tickle your ribcage, that spot always having been sensitive. Your husband swipes his tongue over your lips that still tastes like strawberries from your lipbalm, and he groans, falling forward when you allow him access into your sweet, sweet mouth. Meanwhile, you travel down from his hair into those broad, strong shoulders that always seemed like a fortress to you.

Gojo was so big and strong compared to you. There’s no denying he could easily break you if he wanted to, but he’s nothing but gentle – perhaps a little eager – when he holds you like this.

There’s no memory of how you end up on top of his lap that night with the covers barely strewn across your bodies, Gojo’s back pressing into the bed frame that’s witnessed endless nights of passion. His hands then run over your hips, squeezing it a little too hard until you rut against his hips.

“Hmm,” you moan into his mouth at the friction, while Gojo only smirks at your reaction. Even after years, you’re still so sweet, sensitive, and responsive – he just can’t get enough of it. “Satoru,” the way you say his name is so breathy, almost as if it’s a secret only the two of you should know, so he listens intently at your next words. “You’re a little needy tonight. Did something happen?”

“No,” he lies, smiling to himself once he sees your lips are red and bruised. He’s sure he looks the same, but your eyes are glossed over with love that he can’t resist you pulling you to him as if the space offends him. He trails his lips down to your neck to leave red patches of marks that claims you as his – not that the gold wedding band on your fingers wasn’t doing the job already.

Like the good girl you are, you tilt your head and allow him to do as he pleases. He sucks, licks, kisses and nips at the skin, all the while careful to not hurt you or push you over to the edge since both of you are too tired for the day to ever do anything.

Your head drops to the crook of his neck then, arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely as if you trusted him to catch you whenever you fall – and you know he will. He always will.

Later on, you grow sleepy at the way he starts to pepper kisses into your skin that addictingly smells like cinnamon and vanilla all at the same time. Gojo chuckles to himself at how peaceful you look in that moment, draped over him like a tiny puppy who lives in a world too big for themselves, but that’s not true.

You’re bigger than the universe itself, larger than the vast galaxies he held beneath those eyes, and Gojo finally stops being jealous.

There’s no need to be, after all, not when he’s the one you trust wholeheartedly to tuck you in bed while your soft breathing lulls him into slumber as well. Gojo flicks the lamp off with his finger, not wasting another second before he scoots closer, closer, closer until there’s no more recollection of where you begin and where he ends.

He stands corrected in his statement.

He’ll never get tired of this, of you, for you’re bigger than the universe itself and there’s still a lot of space between the two of you that he can’t wait to cross until your worlds crash and burn.

“Next time,” he promises before kissing your eyelids, “I’ll come home earlier.”

[erodasfishtacos]

Can I request a prompt of dad!Harry where maybe it’s just him And Sasha and they get mobbed and her slightly hurt but he is furious

JUST A LESSON

word count: 5k+ (how'd i write this in one day)

warnings: language, smut, blood, minor injuries

- If you'd like more from dad!harry verse - check out my masterlist! (pinned post)

- PLEASE NOTE: DAD!HARRY & CEO!HARRY ARE TWO DIFFERENT TROPES.

*** <- click for visuals throughout the story!

---

Harry was quite stressed out. He wasn’t sure how his wife did it all the time. She was constantly packing up Sasha and toting her around the globe to meet up with him for concerts and events when he was away.

The little family had been staying in their Los Angeles home for nearly three months now as Harry had been writing for his third solo album. It involved a lot of late nights were Y/N were putting Sasha to bed by herself.

Harry was eternally grateful that she was so patient and understanding when he snuck into bed quarter past three after finding a rift that fit a new song perfectly or when Mitch had an idea that had Harry on Skype for hours with him.

The stress was overwhelming for her though. She was usually good at self-care and taking time for herself but Sasha had been so needy lately and crabby when her father wasn’t at her beck and call.

The toddler was going through a bout where she struggled to sleep through the night and had a tendency to scream bloody murder when she didn’t get her way.

It was nearly three weeks of this and she hadn’t mentioned it too much to Harry because she didn’t want him to be as stressed out as she was.

Tonight, Y/N had rocked, sang, hummed, and read to her daughter to stop the angry tears that were rolling down her cheeks but nothing was working. It was near eleven at night and she had took Sasha out in the car for a long ride where she finally fell asleep.

But as soon as Y/N unlocked the front door, she startled awake even angrier than before, squirming out her mother’s grip and bolting through the house. When she tried to round a corner, she slipped on her bum.

Y/N felt her anxiety level break.

Sasha began screaming once again, “Mummy! No! No!”

When Y/N picked her up after her slight tumble, she was absolutely not hurt but had become even more frustrated. Y/N was starting to feel overwhelmed - which didn’t happen often.

“Baby, what do you want? What can mummy do?” Y/N asks with desperation, searching her baby’s watery green eyes. She looked so much like her dad it was absurd.

“No! Down! Stop!” The two year old orders with a furrowed brow, lips in a tight line with her nose scrunched up in displeasure.

“Sasha, you just hurt yourself. You can’t run in the house, the floor is slippery,” Y/N tells her firmly despite it falling upon deaf ears.

“Bad mummy,” Sasha shrieks, “Daddy! Want Daddy! Now!”

Y/N is embarrassed to admit that she has tears welling up in her eyes. She was trying everything in her power to soothe her baby. It’s midnight at this point and she’d been at it since seven this morning.

Sasha had refused a nap all day - giving Y/N no respite at all. Harry had left at eight in the morning and hadn’t returned yet. Even though Sasha was only two and a half, Y/N felt a pang at the words ‘bad mummy.’

She didn’t feel any other option at this point than to call Harry for help. She wanted to be capable of being at stay home mum but sometimes it was really fucking hard but she felt guilty because she should be able to do this. Harry was out there working hard, providing, constantly.

When he doesn’t answer, the tears freely start streaming down her face in silence. She scrubs at them quickly so that her daughter doesn’t see them but it’s hard to catch them all - sobs threatening to bubble through her lips.

“Daddy’s working, we need to go to sleep,” Y/N replies to her daughter, jaw clenched to hold back the upset she feels. She needs a minute alone but she doubts her toddler will let her.

“Pool?” Sasha piques, “Swim?”

Y/N wants to laugh, it’s so fucking late and Sasha should have been in bed nearly four hours ago. The mother was so beyond her routine at this point, that she actually just gave in to her daughter.

Sasha’s mood turns around when Y/N wrangles them both into their swimsuits ***and trails out of the back patio, switching on all the lights around as well as in the pool. The California air was still extremely warm, enough to cause a sweat. ***

She tugs a little donut raft into the pool with them that Sasha can float around on while Y/N guides it to keep her safe. She was so tired by this point that her bones felt like they weighed a million pounds.

Sasha’s eyes droop until they finally flutter close within minutes of being in the warm water. Her eyelids splotchy pink from all of the fits and tears from the day. And when she is completely asleep, Y/N lets herself cry as she continues to float the baby around the pool to keep her asleep.

She hasn’t been doing it for more than ten minutes when the patio door opens and Harry is stepping into the back with a confused expression that she can’t see because her back is turned to him.

“Love, why are you in the pool? S’late,” Harry asks softly but he doesn’t get an answer, so he’s slipping out of his plain tee and striped pants, dirty vans kicked to the side ***.

Just in his briefs, he quietly enters the pool to not disrupt the ebb and flow of the water. When he makes his way over to her, he slides in front of his wife, alarmed at the exhausted, tearful expression on her face.

“Baby, what’s happened? Talk t’me,” Harry whispers, hands coming to cup his wife’s face in between his large hands. Rings cold against her hot, wet cheeks. He looks to his sleeping daughter, running his eyes over her a few times and decides she seems completely okay.

“M’fine,” Y/N chokes out but the lie causes a fresh wave of tears.

Harry frowns, “Don’t lie to me, pet. Please, don’t shut me out. M’always here for you.”

“I’m a bad mum,” She sobs silently, her eyes closing as she leans into his palms before moving to rest her head heavily on the crook of his tattooed shoulder, his chest damp from the salty tears.

“Wha-What’s brought this on? Y’the best mum in the world, best wife in the world. The best at everythin’, why are you doubtin’ that, my heart?” Harry murmurs, taking over the rocking motions of Sasha’s raft.

“She wouldn’t settle today, Harry. Like at all, refusing to nap, eat any healthy food, or bathe. She screamed at me the whole day no matter what I did and then she told me I was bad and she wanted you.”

“Love, she’s in the midst of her terrible twos. She loves you more than anythin’ on this earth. Y’her mummy and a damn good one at that. Why didn’t y’call me? I’d come home, work is never more important than our family.”

Y/N doesn’t bring up the fact she did try to call, “I need to be able to do this myself, Harry. M’a stay at home mum, taking care of Sash is literally my only job and I can’t even do that.”

Harry’s face hardens but he tries to not take it personally, knowing his wife is just upset with herself, “That’s not fair to me, dove. M’her daddy, she’s half mine too. She’s just as much of my responsibility as yours, no matter what my job is.”

“I don’t want to stress you out more than necessary,” Y/N mutters into his skin.

“Me coming home to my wife in tears and my baby in the pool at midnight is more stressful than you ringin’ me to come home,” Harry tells her, smearing a few kisses to the top of her hair.

“I’m sorry for worrying you. I’m just tired.”

Harry pulls her back so he can look her in the eyes, “Never apologize for somethin’ like that. Go get a bath and let me put the bub to sleep, okay? I love y’mumma.”

--

Harry calls his mum the next morning while Y/N is out getting a manicure with Glenne. He’d called her favorite salon earlier in the day, coercing them into opening a spot for her with a monetary bribe.

Y/N had hesitated at the door as Sasha threw a fit at her mother leaving the house. She clung onto her calf until Harry had to physically pull her off and hold her tightly in his arms.

Currently, Sasha was playing with a set of dolls on the floor of her bedroom as Harry sat next to her. She’d originally been happy with the presence of her father until he told her he needed to make a phone call.

Harry had to be stern with her when she went to grab at the phone pressed to his ear, gently gripping her wrist and frowning, “We don’t do that, s’not nice.”

Sasha had attempted to grab at it again and managed to tangle Harry’s long locks into his fist, tugging at them. Harry unraveled the small fingers before telling his daughter, “If you do that one more time, y’going on the step for two minutes.”

The threat had her pouting harshly but turning back to her toys to occupy herself, sighing when his mum finally answered the phone, “Hi darling.”

“Hi mum, you alright?” Harry asks, relaxing at the sound of his mother’s melodic voice.

“I’m perfect, you don’t sound okay, dear,” Anne replies with a concerned twinge.

Harry didn’t call much to complain, didn’t like worrying her and most of the time Y/N was able to provide the support he needed or Jeff.

“Y/N’s really overwhelmed,” Harry tells her before choking up a bit, “And I don’t know what to do mum, I feel like m’bein’ a bad husband. Came home to her crying last night and she feels like she’s a bad mum.”

When Sasha hears her father’s voice crack, she looks up at him curiously before recognizing that he’s upset. She crawls into his lap, fitting herself against his chest before playing with a doll there. Comforting him.

Harry wraps his free arm around her, pulling her as close as possible. His precious little baby. A little blessing as sweet as her mother.

“Oh honey, that happens. Mums, good mums especially are so critical when they don’t need to be. Baby’s are overwhelming, plus I know she’s been alone a lot with her. But you’re not a bad husband, dear.”

“It feels like it,” Harry sniffles, burying his face in his daughter’s lavender-scented curls from her bath earlier.

“If you were, you wouldn’t be calling,” Anne chuckles at her son, “Now how can we make this situation better?”

-

The phone call helped Harry not feel so hopeless in helping his wife. He’d come up with the plan to fly to England with Sasha so that Anne could see her but Y/N could have some alone time for a long weekend.

When Y/N enters the front door after her appointment, she’s met by a very excited little human who rushes to her mother and demands to be picked up. Of course, Y/N obliges, looking a bit more refreshed and awake as she tucks the baby against her hip.

Harry had ordered their favorite salads from a shop in the city and had it ready for her, “Oh, looks delicious. Thank you, H,” She smiles at him, leaning to give his stubbly cheek a kiss.

As they dig in, Y/N feeding bits of chicken and veggies to her daughter as they eat, Harry clears his throat, “I’m taking Sash to Holmes Chapel for the long weekend to see my mum.”

Y/N smiles, “That sounds great!”

Harry gives her a perplexed look, he’d thought she’d put up a fight. She despised being away from Sasha - couldn’t go a day without seeing her daughter.

“Really?” Her husband asks, putting down his fork.

“Mhm, I just have to pack a bag for Sash and I. When are we leaving?” Y/N replies eagerly, ready to go back home and get away from California for a bit.

Harry’s stomach clenches, “Erm, I meant just me and the baba? I thought you could stay here and relax for a weekend. Sleep, hang out, shop.”

Y/N’s face falls and is replaced with a devastated look, “You don’t think I’m being a good mum.”

Harry backpedals, realizing he shouldn’t have approached it in the lax way he did.

“No, no, of course not, baby. I think you’re such a good mum that you need a break. You never get breaks, m’the one who always does. S’not fair to you. I just need you to have some time to take care of yourself,” Harry explains, his heart shattering a bit at the tears brimming again.

“I don’t want a break, don’t leave me here,” Y/N begs, tucking a piece of tomato in her daughter’s expectant mouth before Sasha chews and smiles at her mother.

“Mummy, more please?” Sasha chirps, her mood a little bit brighter than it had been the last few days.

“Thank you for using your manners, here baby,” Her mother responds, popping another into her mouth after she sliced it in half.

“Did you book a commercial flight?” She asks her husband with an angry tone.

“No, private but we have to catch it at LAX,” Harry explains, the private airport they usually fly out of was filled to capacity at the moment.

“Either I’m coming or you’re going alone. You’re not taking Sasha without me,” Y/N replies firmly. She stands up and shuffles Sasha into his lap before leaving the room without another word.

Harry didn’t expect that. He should have thought it through more. If Y/N wanted to come, of course she could, but he’d never meant to offend her or act like he was taking Sasha away from her.

--

Harry had attempted to reason his way out of going to the studio with Jeff today. However, with the final cuts and adjustments were being made - he was quickly turned down and demanded in the studio.

When he’d trailed into the quiet house that night, relieved to find his baby in her crib instead of the pool, he went to his bedroom where the lights were still on.

The closet doors were open and Y/N was on the ground folding and sorting Sasha’s clothes before placing them in her suitcase. ***

Y/N’s suitcase already laying zipped and ready to go by the entrance of the closet. Her toiletry bag was placed neatly on top of it. Then his heart pings a bit when he sees that she’s already packed up his suitcase as well.

Harry pads over to his wife, plopping down behind her and tugging her back into him - long arms wrapping around her upper chest.

“Missed you, mumma.”

She hums, “I missed you too. Miss you always.”

“Y’the love of my life, y’know that?” Harry asks, kissing the back of her neck.

“I better be or you married the wrong person,” Y/N laughs softly, her tone still off but lighter than before.

“Married the right person, knocked up the right person.”

Y/N barks out a laugh, rolling her eyes, “How romantic.”

“Baby, y’know what I’m getting at. You’re the best mum and wife. I just wanted you to have a few days to yourself. To lower your stress level and let you do some self-care,” Harry murmurs, pushing the baby clothes out of her hands.

“But your mum can watch her for a bit while we’re there, right? I don’t want alone time, I need the exact opposite. I need company,” She tells him, twisting herself until she’s seated in his lap - straddling him.

“Mmm, can definitely have some alone time,” Harry agrees instantly, his mouth finding her throat - beginning to lay a path of wet, hot kisses down the column down to her collarbones.

“H, I have t’pack, we’re leaving tomorrow morning,” Y/N weakly argues but can’t help but bear down against her husband when she feels him harden in his loose pants quickly.

“S’just a quickie? Yeah, pet? Lemme fuck you,” Harry’s hands dragging the shirt she’s wearing up and over her head. Eyes lighting up boyishly when he realizes she didn’t have a bra on.

She can’t argue as he darts down to wrap his lips around her pert bud, sucking between long swipes of his tongue - just how she liked it. “Missed y’body so much,” Harry states against her heated skin.

“Just had me two days ago,” Y/N laughs but it cuts off into a moan when his hand slides into her pajama shorts and finds her clit over her thin underwear.

“Never enough,” Harry replies easily, “Remember the song I wrote f’you?”

Y/N snarkily asks, “Which one? Nearly all your songs are about me.”

And well...Harry can’t even argue how true her statement is. “The one titled ‘Never Enough’, pet? Remember?”

Before she can speak, he lowly croons out the chorus of the song he wrote for One Direction years ago, “Lips so good I forget my name. I swear I would give you everything. It’s never enough, never enough.”

Harry knows his sweet as syrup singing gets her immensely turned on and so he’s not surprised when she whimpers against his lips, “Fuck me, c’mon.”

He’s delighted at his wife’s pleas and quickly moves them, leaning forward with her until she’s on her back on the ground of their walk-in closet. He accidentally kicks over a pile of Sasha’s dresses but neither even notice.

There is no time wasted as Harry removed every single article from Y/N’s body quickly as well as his own. He’s leaning forward to suck a few more kisses to her chest as his fingers slip down to crook right up into her hot center.

“No teasing,” Y/N complains, wrapping hands around his biceps and bringing him on top of her more fully. She’s squeezing around his two fingers with need, it has him groaning when he brings them up and sucks them between his pouty lips.

Then she’s not waiting any longer, reaching down and grabbing a hold of his thick length. Harry lets out rumble from his chest at the contact before she’s guiding him into her without any further ado.

“Baby,” Harry chastises as soon as she starts goading him into thrusts with her feet against him bum, pushing him into her harder than he’d usually start, “Y’squeezin’ me s’tight, you missed me too?”

Y/N nods, whining every time he pushes against her spot and sends a zip of arousal through her body. His trimmed hair around his base brushing against her clit causing delicious friction for her.

“No, y’need to tell me,” Harry huffs, hand gripping her jaw harsher than he would if they were having slow, intimate sex. He knew she loved it by the way her eyes twinkle with stubbornness.

“No,” She replies coyly, heels of her feet pressing hard against him to the point it itches with a slight pain. Harry loved his wife so much it was looney.

“It’s fine, don’t need y’to come for me to get off, dove,” Harry replies simply, speeding up his thrusts with his hand holding her jaw for him to press bruising kisses against. His teeth are coming to pull her bottom lip in between.

Something switches in her demeanor though without warning, her voice softer and pliant, “Tell me you love me.”

It has Harry slowing down his hips until he’s rocking deeper into her, going down on his elbows so their noses are bumping. He releases the grip of her chin and instead moves to her bum to encourage her to meet him halfway.

“I love you, s’much it hurts most days,” Harry replies obediently, knowing what his wife needed at that moment. Reassurance. “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, then you made us a perfect little baby.”

She’s looking up at him with loving, grateful eyes, landing a gentle peck to his upper lip and letting her head fall back onto the floor. This is what she needed right now from her husband and he was so good at providing.

“Breaks my heart when y’don’t think your a good mum or wife. ‘Cause you’re everythin’ I ever wanted. Why’d you think I write every song about you, lovie? S’cause you’re my soulmate.”

“H,” She whimpers, emotion thick in her throat as she meets his eyes, “I love you so much. You’re the best husband and dad ever.”

“Baby,” Harry murmurs into her cheek, picking up speed as she starts to clench around him in a warning of her oncoming orgasm. He slips his hand down to press a few light rubs to her clit before she’s arching her back and moaning with pleasure.

“You look s’good, coming ‘round my cock,” Harry tells her, helping her ride through it before hitching her hips up even further and thrusting harshly until his hips stutter and he’s coming as well.

“Harry,” Y/N sighs, her breathing coming back to normal as she roams a hand down his shoulders and back - scratching lightly.

“Hmm, dove? Y’want my cock again? Need a few,” He replies into her neck, ever the teenage boy.

She giggles, “No, we have to catch a flight at eight in the morning and it’s currently four-thirty.”

Harry grunts before pulling out and sitting up, “Y’better have packed my favorite pajama pants or I’m goin’ to be cross with you.”

--

Y/N now regrets the second round of fun as soon as their alarm goes off. Her body sore from the position he’d twisted her into against the shower wall after they packed the rest of Sasha necessities.

They were nearly at the airport with Sasha nodding back off in the carseat. She was excited to see her Nana and Aunt Gemma once again.

Their daughter was in the cutest, comfiest jumpsuit with comic hearts all over it *** and adorable little sock sneakers*** that slide right on and off her feet.

Harry had chucked on black sunglasses, a black jumper with green lettering, black joggers, and blue checkered van with white socks. He was attempting to fly under the radar as much as possible because he knew paparazzi just sit outside the entrances to spot celebrities. ***

It was annoying but he could deal with it when he was mobbed at the airport when he was by himself. But when it was with his wife and baby - he couldn’t stomach it. It’s part of the reason they fly private from a private port.

When they pull up to the curb, a staff member is waiting for them and helps Harry as well as the driver put his luggage on a cart to be brought to the awaiting jet.

Y/N unbuckles the baby who is awake now but bleary-eyed as she’s sitting on the curve of her mother’s hip.

And well - that’s when the madness begins. A pap spots them within seconds of exiting the car and is pulling up his camera for the first shots, the other photographers sitting around follow suit.

As soon as one of them screams, “Harry Styles - look this way!” The jam packed area looks towards them, seeming fans of his start murmuring before following behind the paparazzi pulling their phones out.

Y/N is used to the crowds by now - but just like Harry, not with Sasha around. They tried to avoid situations like this as much as possible. The lights and loud noises were scary to the little girl.

“Mummy,” Sasha whines, picking her head up from her mother’s shoulder to stare wide-eyed at the gathering in front of them.

Harry started to feel anxiety because this was becoming a massive crowd - scratch that, it wasn’t a crowd it was a fucking mob of people. They were all too close, blinding the family with their flashes despite security attempting to push them back.

Fans were shoving and thrusting their phones in Harry’s face, shoving random things for him to sign in front of him. Paparazzi were screaming questions and taking thousands of pictures in a minute’s time.

Harry grabs onto Y/N’s hand tightly, their diaper bag on Harry’s shoulder, and begins to attempt to guide them through the swarm. It was like trying to move through cement, the crowd not budging despite security’s screams.

Sasha is full blown crying at this point into her mother’s neck. Y/N’s hand cupping the back of her head to keep her head down and out of the photographs - holding her as tightly as possible.

Y/N can hear Harry began to curse - signaling that he’s becoming stressed out because he would usually never be rude to the public despite their actions. But he couldn’t give a fuck when it came to his family.

“Move out of the way.”

“D’you not see I have a fuckin’ baby?”

“Get those fuckin’ cameras out of their faces.”

“Back the fuck away from my wife and baby.”

Then Y/N is being shoved by a teenage girl who trips when she thrusts her arm towards Harry. She tumbles into Y/N with her full weight and Y/N’s loses her footing, falling forward - letting go of Harry’s hand.

When she falls, she manages to catch herself with the arm that’s not holding her daughter. But she feels pain in her knees and Sasha emits a sharp wail that alerts Y/N her daughter is hurt.

“Sash, fuck,” Y/N gasps, her motherly instincts automatically kicking in and she’s cradling her daughter as tightly to her chest as she can, shielding her from the swarm who had quieted only a bit.

It must take Harry a second to realize that something had happened, he turns around - eyes frantic as he absolutely roars, “Back the fuck up! I’ll fuckin’ break each and everyone of your cameras! Fucking leeches.”

With that, he’s helping to pull you up and grasping at the two, “Are you okay? Wha’s hurt?”

Y/N just shakes her head, having a panic attack as she shuffles the crying baby into his arms. “Please, just...Sasha. I think she hurt her arm when I fell.”

“Daddy, ouch,” Sasha shrieks loudly into his sweatshirt as he hikes her up onto his chest, her little legs wrapped around his midsection.

“Ssh, y’okay,” Harry tries to reassure her, matching his wife’s panic.

The crowd seems to give way now, the parents rushing their daughter into the airport.

Employees guide them to the medical office on-site where it’s now silent and calm but the family feels anything but.

Sasha’s sobs have turned into moans and whimpers at this point - but come back with a vengeance when Harry has to set her on the exam table and wrestle her out of her clothes until she’s just sat in her diaper.

The nurse was so amazing and kind. She checked Sasha thoroughly for any signs of trauma or broken bones but luckily, it was just a nasty scrape on her forearm that was hurting her. It wasn’t anything serious.

The parents had such concern for their daughter that Y/N didn’t even realize she had bled through her white joggers at the knees ***. The nurse frowns, “Honey, you’re still bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” She insisted even though her knees were aching.

“I’d like to examine your legs, dear,” The nurse tells her sternly, signaling that Harry can dress Sasha again.

He’s digging into the diaper bag for a spare out that they were always ready with. She was calming even more when Harry dressed her in a comfy pink set of clothes with little deer on them. ***

“Love, please let her,” Harry asks softly, pulling Sasha back onto his chest. Her thumb tucked into her mouth and her father hands her a plushie that Y/N had shoved in the bag last minute.

Y/N obliges with the pressure, wiggling the loose fabric down her legs until she’s just in her underwear and shirt - sits up on the table with her knees off to the side for her to examine.

Harry grimaces when he sees the multiple cuts and scrapes tainting her skin. A few slow trickles of blood still oozing from the gashes. The skin is already slowly covering purple and blue with bruises.

The nurse cleans her up, Y/N wincing when the alcohol brushes the cuts but Sasha is smiling again like nothing ever happened and cooing at her mum. It makes them both feel a lot better.

--

When they’re finally on the private jet, up high into the clouds away from the crowds and paparazzi - it feels like relief. ***

They had tucked their daughter onto the couch with her favorite fuzzy blanket and she’s asleep nearly as soon as her head hits the pillow.

They trail back into the other part of the cabin so that they don’t disturb her, cuddling up on the couch together.

“M’so sorry, I’m such a bad fa-”

Y/N cuts him off before he begins, “If I’m not allowed to be a bad mum - you’re not allowed to be a bad father. It wasn’t y’fault that happened - it’s those careless, crazed people who have nothing better to do.”

Y/N was always the voice of reason in Harry’s head when he started to spiral.

Spiral because his fame was so overwhelming and got his family into difficult situations sometimes. She brought him back to reality.

“Hey, we’re both okay. Just a few scrapes. It was just a lesson, Harry. We just need to be safer and plan better, alright?” Y/N assures him softly, kissing under his chin before resting back - ready to sleep.

“Y’the best. Best mum, best wife,” Harry tells her, encompassing her in his loving hold.

let me know your thoughts bub

come talk to me <3

[fortuositywritings]

Tattoo Heart

Summary: Tony and you make a dumb drunk decision. He gives you a tattoo.

“Um, what the hell, Tony! You said it wasn’t that bad.”

“It’s not! It’s well-proportioned. Really it’s the best heart I’ve ever drawn. I don’t know why you’re so upset. It could have been worse.”

“The heart isn’t the problem. You tattooed Wanda’s name on it!”

“Yeah, I can see why you’re mad.”

You poked your sore arm. Out of all places, he had to tattoo it on your arm above your elbow where everyone could see. Talk about bad placement.

You pout, “How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Baseball tee’s could make a comeback. You’ll be a trendsetter,” he suggests, not helping at all. 

You glare at him. “You’re paying for it to be removed.”

“I expected no less,” he concedes. You’re still touching the tender spot, frowning. He stops you. “Poking it is not going to make it go away.”

“Fuck! I’m never getting drunk with you again,” you vow. 

“You say that now, but come Friday night, whiteclaw in hand, you’ll have no recollection of this ever happening.”

“Getting a tattoo with your crush’s name on it is kind of hard to forget, Tony,” you spit out. He wears a sheepish smile. Speaking of the party on Friday, “Shit!”

“What?” Tony asks, clearly not processing the situation you’re in as fast as you are.

“Wanda’s gonna be there,” you remember.

“Well, yeah. It’s Pietro’s birthday party and they’re twins so,” he comments sarcastically.

“It’s a pool party. How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Just don’t get in the pool. Or you know what, just don’t go. Say you got sick,” Tony suggests.

“I can’t do that. She expects me to be there and I don’t want to let her down on her birthday,” you explain. Wanda had personally invited you to her party, saying you were going to be her partner for beer pong. 

“Fine. Don’t worry about it too much. We have all week to figure something out,” he reasons. You guess he’s right. No use in stressing too much.

Friday afternoon comes too fast.

You’re stressing as you look at yourself in the mirror. You look ridiculous. 

“You’re literally a genius and this was the best you could come up with?” you complain. You already feel yourself sweating. You hadn’t thought of what to wear. You only had your one piece bathing suit. Tony told you he had something and you trusted him. What he brought you, a long sleeve rashguard to wear over your bathing suit.

“Makeup was just going to wash off. We couldn’t chance it. This way, you can get in the pool,” he says. 

“I look like I’m going surfing, not a pool party,” you huff. 

“You look fine. If anyone asks, you burn easily. Now let’s go. Your girlfriend is waiting on you,” he rushes you along, grabbing your stuff for you. You throw on some shorts and slip on some sandals.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you mumble, blushing as he pushes you out the door.

“Oh, I know. This wouldn’t be such a big deal if she was.” He closes the door.

Pietro opens the door for you and Tony. You both hug him and congratulate him on another year of being on this earth or as Tony puts it, “Congrats on being one year closer to death!”

Technically, their birthday is tomorrow but they always have a birthday dinner with their parents, so they celebrate with their friends either the day before or after. You and Tony hand Pietro your present for him. 

“Just don’t open it in front of your parents,” you warn. He decides to unwrap it right then. You roll your eyes at his impatience to wait until tomorrow. To his satisfaction it’s running shoes with a bottle of alcohol in each shoe. He laughs, thanking you for his present. He notices you looking around, searching for a certain somebody. He already knows who you’re looking for. 

“She’s in the kitchen,” he tells you, a smirk appearing on his face when you blush at being so obvious. You thank him and go find Wanda.

As Pietro said, she is in the kitchen fixing some appetizers to bring outside. What you weren’t prepared for was her already in her bikini, like she’s ready to jump into the pool. Her two piece bathing suit doesn’t leave much to the imagination but you’re quite the daydreamer it seems. You’re snapped out of your trance by Wanda clearing her throat.

She wears a smirk much like her brother’s and you splutter an embarrassed, “H-hi! Happy Birthday. You, uh, you look good. Great! You look ready for the pool.”

She smiles, amused by your awkwardness. “Thank you. You look ready for the beach.”

You blush. “Yeah, I burn easily,” you lie and quickly move on, handing her the present you got her. “Here.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she says, but you shake your head. “Of course I did. It’s your birthday tomorrow. You can open it now if you want. Your brother did.”

“Unlike my brother, I can wait. Let me go put it in my room. I’ll be right back. Wait here,” she requests. You nod and she leaves with her present. You respectfully turn your gaze to the appetizers, not wanting to ogle her backside. 

“Cowabunga, dude! What the hell are you wearing?”

“No way. I almost wore the same thing. Good thing I didn’t or that would be embarrassing.”

You roll your eyes, turning around to see Sam and Rhodey, both clearly amused by their own jokes. You give them an unimpressed look and they laugh harder. 

“Haha. So very funny,” you deadpan.

“Seriously, Y/N, why are you wearing that? It’s like a thousand degrees,” Rhodey asks. 

“Maybe I’m insecure and you guys laughing just makes me feel worse? Maybe thought of that?” you retort, but neither buy it. They look at each other and start laughing. 

“Insecure, my ass. You almost give Tony Stark a run for his money in the size of ego,” Sam says between laughs. You just roll your eyes.

Wanda returns to find the guys pressing you about the long sleeves. 

“Hey, Wanda. I think you might have given Johnny Kapahala the wrong address. She’s gonna be late for the competition,” Sam jokes and you hate that you get the joke. Wanda doesn’t and looks adorably confused. All she knows is they’re referring to you so she looks at you for an explanation but you ignore her in order to throw your own remark.

“At least Johnny wasn’t afraid to swim at the beach,” you bite, making Rhodey and Wanda laugh and Sam take offense.

“There are sharks!” Sam defends himself, making you all laugh. 

The three of you help Wanda bring out the appetizers to the backyard. They’ve got a table and a bunch of chairs laid around. Wanda asks if you’d like a drink and goes to fetch one for the two of you while you greet other friends. 

“You didn’t want one?” You ask her when she returns with only one drink. “If we’re going to be beer pong partners, you can’t leave me drinking alone.”

She giggles and takes a swig from your drink. “Happy?” She asks when she returns the drink to you and smirks upon seeing the slight blush on your cheeks. 

You get a few more remarks about the rashguard but with a few drinks in everyone’s system, the pool is more enticing than poking fun at you. You didn’t plan to get in the pool but with a simple “come on” from Wanda, you’re cannonball jumping into the deep end. 

Once it’s dark, you all begin to vacate the pool in order to play games. You and Wanda play two games of beer pong seeing as neither of you are very good and you think you’ll surely be sick if you play another round. 

You eat, you dance, you sit around and talk to your friends, and Wanda is with you the whole time. It’s midnight and you’re right beside her as everyone sings for her and Pietro. She hands you the first slice of cake, which you eat standing up just to stay next to her as she cuts a piece for everyone. 

It’s nearing 2am as people begin to leave. Wanda and Pietro make sure everyone is getting home safely, either taking a LIFT or having a designated driver. You and Tony stay later to help the twins clean up, which they greatly appreciate.

Almost an hour later, the house looks as if there hadn’t been a party. You and Tony wish them happy birthday once more before he pulls out his phone to call an Uber. The twins insist you two stay, that it is way too late and they’d feel better if you do.

Tony wiggles his eyebrows discreetly at you when Wanda invites you to sleep in her room. You spare him a warning glance before following Wanda to her room. She offers you some pajamas and hands you a long sleeved tshirt like you ask. You excuse her questioning glance saying you get cold at night. 

You change in the bathroom. When you return, you find Wanda also in her pajamas sitting on her bed with the present you gave her earlier in her hand. 

“You want to open that now?” You ask, amused at her eagerness to open it.

“I mean it is my birthday now,” she reasons. You nod, closing the door and going to sit next to her. “Or is this one of those ‘open when you’re alone’ presents?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What kind of presents are those?”

“One of those romantic ones like in the movies that show that you’ve always loved me or something,” she replies. Your palms feel sweaty all of a sudden with the way she stares at you. She reads the nervousness on your face and takes pity, continuing, “Or a vibrator.”

You burst in giggles. “Damn it. How’d you know?” you joke. 

It’s not a vibrator, obviously. You got her two necklaces, one gold with her name and the other sterling silver with her initials.

“I was going to just get you the gold one but then I thought maybe you wanted one to match all those rings you wear so, that’s why there are two,” you explain.

She puts the box aside and throws her arms around you, pulling you flush into her. “Thank you. I love them.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I could totally return those and get you a vibrator if that's what you want,” you laugh. She pulls back immediately, a frown on her face. 

“No, they already have my name,” she protests, pulling a chuckle from you. She hands you the golden one that says ‘Wanda’ and asks, “Will you put this one on me?”

At your nod, she twists around, turning her back to you and sweeping her hair up. You struggle with the clasp a little due to your nervousness, but you get it. Had you paid closer attention, you would have noticed how Wanda shivered at your touch. 

She turns back around and you admire her with your gift around her neck. “It looks great on you.” 

She leans toward you again and you assume it’s to give you another hug, which you wouldn’t mind one bit, but she doesn’t move her head to the side the way one does to hug someone. Her nose bumps into yours and you realize she’s going to kiss you. 

For some damn reason you pull away before her lips reach yours. She looks embarrassed and begins to apologize, “Sorry, I misread that. I thought with the present and the way you’ve been looking at me all day, shit.”

“No, you didn’t misread anything,” you reassure her. She relaxes. “Can we try that again? I was just nervous, but I’m ready now.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Wait.” You get up and make a show of shaking off the nerves and pumping yourself up before you sit back down. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

She giggles, grabbing your face and pulling you into her, kissing the life out of you. She moves to lie back on the bed and you follow her lead. You’re kissing and it’s getting hot and she tugs on your shirt. You remove it without a second thought. You begin kissing down her neck pulling sweet noises when you leave a love bite. She gasps and grips your arm, right above your elbow. 

You flinch in pain. The sudden intake of breath tips her off and she pulls her hand away. She asks worriedly, “Are you okay?”

You remember the tattoo and the fact that it’s not so hidden right now. You start to panic. “Yep, why? Are you okay?”

She narrows her eyes in suspicion, but you kiss her with the intention to make her forget. A minute later, she does it again, grabbing right on that spot. You try not to, but she hears the small groan and she pulls away. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong,” you lie. 

“Then why do you flinch every time I grab your arm?” She moves to grab your arm again to prove a point but you move it away.

“Nothing’s wrong with my arm,” you deny. She sits up and reaches for your arm. Once more you pull out of reach. 

“Y/N, let me see your arm,” she demands. 

“Okay.” You try to save yourself from some of the embarrassment by explaining, “But before you look, just know I did it on a drunken dare and I didn’t know until the day after what Tony actually wrote.”

That piques her curiosity and she shuffled around you to take a look at your arm. You can’t watch, so you hide your face behind the palm of your other hand. You expect her to either laugh at you or get upset, but moments pass and you don’t hear anything. 

You get the nerve to look over your shoulder at Wanda. She looks indecisive about what she wants to say, but she doesn’t look mad. Finally, she says, “I guess I don’t have to ask if you like me or not.”

You groan in embarrassment, hiding your face again. She laughs and pulls you into her as she lies back down. “Don’t laugh. It’s embarrassing enough getting your crush’s name tattooed on you. I don’t need her to actually make fun of me.”

“Aww, you have a crush on me?” she coos. 

You pull away, giving her a deadpan look. “No, I get girls’ names tattooed on me all the time.”

“Having your crush’s name tattooed is embarrassing,” she agrees.

You narrow your eyes, thinking she's just making fun of you now and that was the last thing you need but she continues, “So how about we say it’s your girlfriend’s name?”

Your eyes widen. Wanda bites her lip nervously, waiting for your answer, and that’s how you know she’s serious. You blush, “That would be less embarrassing.”

“I think so too. So what do you say?” She asks, wanting a clear answer.

“I would love to be your girlfriend,” you answer.

She smiles and kisses you. You can’t help the giddy laughter that comes after. 

“You know, he didn't do too bad. It’s pretty well-proportioned.”