#i was cold today and i had to give myself a pep talk in my head to ZIP UP MY JACKET

[conanssummerchild]

being alive is soooo embarrasing like oh no i cant handle loud noises like everyone else can oh nooo

[fantasyinallforms]

I was struggling on which one to request, so I would like to put forward two bagginshield options- 20, on a scar, or 30, for comfort i am loving these <333 ur writing is so good

You are so sweet!! Well, I did the scars one already, so for comfort, it is! Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy!! ❤️❤️

~~~~~~

Bilbo paced back and forth in the back corridor to the throne room. The door he came through to get here led directly to the Kings rooms and was just about the only place he knew he would not be disturbed. He smoothed down his shirt for the third time and readjusted his new diadem. It had been crafted by Thorin with today in mind and styled to look like the flowering branches of an oak tree. Today, he would be introduced to the entire dwarven court and all three leaders of the current dwarven strongholds as Thorin’s One. Their relationship up until now had been an ill-kept secret. Those that lived in Erebor knew that the King was unusually attached to his hobbit burglar. There were mummers of what he was. Some were convinced Thorin would never take anyone, let alone a hobbit. Others thought he was simply a convenient bedmate. No one seemed to entertain the notion that Bilbo was the other half of the king's very soul. 

They would after today. 

“Calm yourself, you Tookblooded fool. They’ll like you, or they won't. There is nothing you can do about that now.” It wasn't the first pep talk he had given himself that afternoon, and Yavanna knows it wouldn't be the last 

It lasted all of ten minutes before his mind was racing again. His head jumped through all sorts of scenarios, not stopping to consider how preposterous some of them were. What if They didn't like him? What if they demanded Thorin be with someone who could give him heirs or decided they could be together, but only if Bilbo was kept a secret? He finally stopped his pacing to slide down a pillar until he was hugging his knees on the cold floor. He heard the door open, and Thorin's voice floated through it. 

“Amral, they’re almost rea- Bilbo?” He felt a warm hand brush over the top of his head and down his chin. “Are you feeling alright?”

“N-no! Thorin, I don't know if I can do this! I’m not meant to be the leader of an entire nation of people!” Panic was quickly swallowing his sense, and to his surprise, Thorin just chuckled. 

“If I had not known you were my other half, that would have proved it. When I was a prince, I found myself saying that often.” When Bilbo didn't answer, Thorin sat beside him. Head still between his knees, he took the diadem off and slapped it to Thorin’s chest. He really did feel hopeless, and his anxiety was edging toward a full-blown panic attack. He felt himself pulled into the warmth of Thorin’s chest and held there rather firmly.     

“Are you… second-guessing this?” It was clear from the forced calm sound in Thorin’s voice that Bilbo had learned was, in fact, distress that the question was more, are you second guessing me. 

“Never. I just… what if they make you choose between me and your people? Or what if the people reject me?” He was clinging to the front of Thorin's tunic as he finally voiced his fears.

“They would never be so foolish as to try and make me choose. They know who would win.” A strong hand brushed his cheek, and he dipped down to deliver a long, comforting kiss. Despite his enormous strength Thorin always held him so gently. His hands always found his hair or the small of his back, and he pulled them together. He was like a man who thought this was all still a dream he could suddenly wake up from. Bilbo was putty in his hands, willing to let the dwarf holding him do anything he wanted to him. He had never trusted someone so completely as he did Thorin. “Bilbo, I was made to be with you. Every moment I've spent since my birth has been for you. And I’m sorry, my love, because it does seem like you got the raw end of this deal. I’m sorry that we can't have a simple life, not yet.”

They heard a rap on the door, three sharp knocks, a pause, and another knock. It was the mining code for ready. Bilbo staggered to his feet. “I’m alright with it not being simple as long as youre there.” Thorin was smiling up at him from the floor like a lovesick fool. His lovesick fool. Thorin pushed himself off the floor, and they stood in front of the door to the throne room side by side.

“Bilbo, if you ask, I will abandon all of this. I will ready Fili, and within the year, we can leave for the shire and live there till the end of our days.” Bilbo put the diadem back onto his head. 

“No. These are my people too. I want to lead them.”  

__________

Fun kissing prompt game to be found here!

[summerainss]

confessions of a drunk girl

A/N: I am backkk!! I finally had some inspiration. This is just fluff once again. I don't think I can do anything else haha :)

Summary: finally opens up to Calum but she needs some alcohol in her system first.

Warnings: alcohol use

We were just having a wrap party. I was of course nervous. I thought about making a move however I wasn’t sure about it just yet. I don’t really like taking risks, but I thought this one I could take. We finished the project; we could bump into each other, but we wouldn’t be able to interact. I could do this, I wasn’t certain about it, sure but it wasn’t that big of a deal. Only thing I had to do was to just to take a few shots. I would have an excuse. If things went down bad, I could just tell him I was drunk. My shameless drunk flirting could also be good of a use well.

So here I was giving myself a really small pep talk to go up to him. I had the courage to go up to him, I just cared about him and didn’t want to mess this up. I wasn’t afraid of rejection. I just didn’t want to mess this up. I could take him rejecting me. I just really, really fancied him.

Shit, I fancied him, and I had to be drunk to be able to admit it to myself. How the fuck was I going to explain it to him? I hated myself right at that moment. The thing is my solution to hating myself while being drunk is to just drink some more. It turned out strange, my solution I mean. I wouldn’t call the outcome exactly terrible although there was some regrets and embarrassing moments, I am overall glad I got drunk that night.

           I took those extra shots, and everything started to slow down a bit, the music wasn’t as clear anymore. Instead it was just loud. I couldn’t make out the lyrics. I saw him, he was talking to a mutual friend of ours, Luke. I may have mentioned the possibility of me finding Calum attractive, he tried to play the matchmaker ever since that moment. He was terrible at it. He couldn’t be discreet; it was just painful to watch him find excuses to leave Calum and I alone. His excuse when I came up to them was just ridiculous: he had to “flower his plant”. We were at least in his house, but it was just absurd and wasn’t believable at all. At least he was an adorable dumbass so I could forgive his nonsense behavior. I have to be honest though, if he hadn’t left us alone that night we wouldn’t be here today so I guess I am grateful to him at some point.

“He is ridiculous sometimes,” is the first thing Calum said to me shaking his head as he  tried to hide his smile.

“We accepted him that way. I don’t think he is capable of changing anymore.” I stated as I was staring at the lanky dork’s back until he disappeared into the crowd in the kitchen and couldn’t be seen anymore.

“ I guess so… But I have to say I never approved thi- Hey, you alright?” he asked as his expression suddenly changed into a worried one.

“Yeah… yea… Just a bit dizzy. Are you dizzy or am I dizzy alone? I wanna sit down.” I whined. My last sentence accidentally came off like a child begging to have ice cream before dinner. Suddenly I felt his hand on my back as a support. If I wasn’t dizzy before I would definitely start to be dizzy, then. I became soft from his touch alone. I wanted to give my body up and just let him hold me. I wanted to feel his embrace so badly…

“Come on,” he said as he brushed a single strand of hair behind my ear, “let’s have some fresh air.” He lead me to the backyard.

There were people here having a cigarette, chatting, or getting some fresh air just like us. I secretly wished we were alone but when we sat down on the couch beside the pool we were basically alone. He let go of my back and cold suddenly hit to where his hand used to be on my back. There was some space between us but since I wanted to hit on him, lay down, and stop the spinning in my head; I laid down on his lap. He seemed surprised. I wanted to celebrate that moment. Finally, I was able to catch him off guard, finally I was able to get him frustrated. Now, this must be what having power over someone felt like. I felt like doing a little bit more of this. I started to move my head around and in the end my face faced his crouch. I was in an extremely risky situation, plus I could feel Calum tensing with every move that I made. I had enough of that though. I just wanted to tell him. Tell him my every little secret, starting with my crush huge on him.

“Cal… Can I tell you something?” I mumbled. I opened my eyes that I have closed just a moment ago to get my thinking straight. When I opened my eyes I caught Calum staring at me. Now, I was the one who felt uneasy under his gaze. I could see that he was thinking something, he had that examining look on his face that made me feel like he could see my thoughts. I felt like an open book to him which I didn’t like, because it wasn’t who I was. I liked keeping it to myself, I liked the fact that my thoughts were mine and mine only. I had all the control over how people see me, they knew only parts I wanted them to know but Cal was different. The reason I think he could see through me was because she knew what it was like to be like me. He himself was private, a riddle to the others. The thing about these people is that the people who are riddles themselves know how to solve the other ones. There he was now, so close to solving mine. His fingers were combing through my hair:

“Of course, do you need anything? Is your stomach good?” it kind of stung he thought I was that intoxicated to show him this much attention.

“Yeah, no I’m fine. I just… Do you ever feel like you crave love? I mean of course you are loved; you have your family friends and all that, in your case fans who would die for you but like, I mean do you crave to love and to be loved? To even belong maybe? Sometimes I feel like I could explode from all the love I have to give, but sometimes I feel so weak I feel like I can’t even to look people in the eye,” I tried to explain but Cal just had a light smile on his face. “I’m sorry. I’m just talking nonsense,” I said as I shook my head. His smile remained nearly the same but now his teeth were showing. He looked so cute with his cheeks slightly pink from the alcohol he had consumed, his dimples were showing, and his eyes were shining with the dim lights of the party lights creeping on to the patio.

“No, you are not,” he assured me with a soft voice. “Believe me or not I understood exactly what you were trying to explain.” His hand was still tangled up in my hair, slowly playing with it. I felt like sitting up straight. This was it, it was the perfect moment, now or never I thought.

Now we were sitting next to each other, too close maybe. I turned to face him. I made the most intimate eye contact of my life at that moment. He was just looking at me with a dazed gaze almost high I would say if I didn’t know any better. I caught his sneaky glances to my lips and thought now was the time.

“You wanna know something else?” he only replied with a nod. Now he wasn’t even trying to hide his glances. He looked from my eyes to my lips.

“I really wanna kiss you, and be in love with you. I think I almost love you and I also want to be loved by you,” I rushed. All of my thoughts were mixing up. I had just confessed my stupid crush on him to him, but it didn’t even make any sense. I have fucked it up. I shut my eyes embarrassed and hid my face to the crook of his neck. I was blushing so heavily I couldn’t show my face. I felt his hand on my cheek, it traveled down to my chin. He whispered slowly:

“ Do you want to know something cool?” I nodded still hiding in his neck. “ I think I almost love you too.” He used his fingers that have been resting on my chin to lift up my face. As he stabled my face he started to lean in, looking up from my lips to my eyes one last time before kissing me. This was it, I thought. This was what I had been craving all along.

[serephinastardust]

Random writing- One shitty day

---------

Staring at the wall, I feel listless. Unsure what to do, unsure what to feel. Today was the worst day. I will say it didn't start off bad. That wall is mocking me, I start glaring it, even though all my emotions gone.

What up today, the universe made it seem like today would be oh so perfect. Oh how evil that illusion was. I managed to wake up to my alarm on time. Giving me enough time for my routine.

I stretched, showered, managed to style my hair in a way that didn't immediately fall flat. It was great. I was keeping an eye on the time, eating some fruit loops while scrolling through social media.

I had just finished my bowl, when I saw something I should never have had to see. There was picture of a party acquaintances had gone to. But in the background, there was Trist. My boyfriend of 5y making out with what looked like another woman.

I was shocked. I then had an uneasy feeling on how the day would go and what's worse I had to deal with this while trying to work.

"Fuck this shit!" I shout out loud.

And I grab my phone and call my boss asking for a personal day. But my boss wouldn't have it and gave me the ultimatum of be in office or be fired.

I hung up and nearly broke down then and there. I don't even remember the last time I called out. Why was my boss doing this, but I knew I couldn't go in with this mind set. I still probably end fired even if I did go in.

So I collapsed on the couch, and started to stare at wall. I'd never felt so betrayed in my life. It was like a my heart had been torn out of my chest, put threw a meat grinder and was eaten and digested.

I had put a hand to my chest multiple times to make sure there really wasn't a hole, and I really wasn't bleeding out because my heart was missing.

My white walls glowing yellow with the sun. Slowly turned black with the night and I was still sitting on the couch. The only silver lining I had to this situation is that Trist and I hadn't decided to move in with eachother yet.

Eventually, I sighed and forced myself up. I was probably jobless, and was single again. I just had to make it known to Trist first. And this feeling of numbness was also scaring me.

I made my way to my closet and found a skin tight black and red dress that showed off all my curves in the most eye catching of ways. I let my obsidian hair down, and brushed out any knots that appeared.

I stared listlessly at myself in the mirror. My body may have looked hot at hell, but my eyes had no life, even with my natural make up to help. I sighed, trying to feel something. I was going to need some anger to help me break this off.

I seriously praid I would break down crying when I got to Trists apartment. With no one to give me a pep talk to get my emotions working, I walked out of my house. I was now going to refer to this outfit as the break up from now on.

But before I got to far from the house I stopped and stared at my feet. Something seemed wrong about how my feet looked and how cold they felt. I stared at them for over 5 minutes before it dawned on me. I forgot my shoes.

And so I walked back into my house to find something I could consider breakup shoes.

[blackink-onpaper]

The Descend and the Resurface

Damian Hart (Beyblade) x OC

Summary: OC comes from a complex background, and in the midst of trying to save it all and help her family she enters a strange arrangement, which will change her life forever.

Masterlist 🖤

Tags: Beyblade, Beyblade Metal Masters, Zeo Abyss, Jack, Damian Hart, OC, Gingka Hagane, team Starbreaker, team Gan Gan Galaxy, dr. Ziggurat, Hades Inc.

A/N: (ambience suggestion) this chapter and the next will go along with the canon storyline, for this chapter watch Beyblade Metal Masters episode 92 if you like, it’s available on youtube! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 15

Early in the morning, when the sun had just come up to creep over the miles of empty desert surrounding Hades City, I woke up to see I was alone. At first, I thought Damian might have gone to the bathroom, but then I recalled they had to do a round of Arrangement before takeoff to the final battle. Returning to my own room, I took a refreshing cold shower and washed my hair, before moving onto planning my appearance for the day. A cheeky thought crossed my mind as I was flipping through my folded clothing, as I considered dressing in Damian’s colours as a sign of support: this was my first public appearance with Starbreaker, after all.

Checking the schedule match time on my phone, which was at noon, I understood I had to be ready at least an hour earlier in order to be on time. I dried my hair and curled it into very loose and unintentional waves, and did my makeup lightly but a bit more sophisticated than usual, because I was unsure if I will be a target for the paparazzi, although I definitely intended not to be and remain hidden if possible. For clothes, I decided on a white linen button down tucked into my straight white ankle length jeans, black chelsea boots with a small blunt heel, and my powder blue Dior bag I got as a gift from Julian’s mom a couple of years ago for my birthday - the colour would serve good as a reminiscent of Damian’s hair. To complete my look, I painted my bare nails black to match my boots, and added gold chain bracelets as the final touch: I was very pleased with my look. Just after texting Ziggurat’s assistant for details, I also remembered I had a thin black velvet choker in my jewelry bag which I immediately added to my ansemble, excited to see if anyone is going to notice.

At breakfast, a familiar situation happened with boys from the Academy; there were too many looks and whispers for me to not notice. I tried to ignore them, but I think today’s match got them too excited to remember some manners. Nonetheless, I did my best to tune them out and read what Ziggurat’s assistant texted me back:

Dear Camila,

The departure time is 10:45AM by helicopter. Please be present in section B3, platform 4 at that exact time to meet the team. Your tickets have been sorted, please find them attached.

‘Great’ I thought to myself, because I had just enough time to finish my meal slowly and make it in time. At 10:40, I was already at the platform, and I was surprised to meet Zeo there. He seemed very, very upset:

“Zeo, are you okay?” I came up to him, but he slapped my hand away as I tried to touch his shoulder, yelling:

“Leave me alone!”

I stood in silence, with shock caught in my throat. He then realised what he did:

“Camila… I feel like I’m losing my mind.” He said in an almost sobbing voice: “I couldn’t finish my Arrangement again, and if I lose Toby-“

“Zeo listen to me” I interrupted him, realising he needs to hear a proper pep talk: “What does Starbreaker stand for? The American flag, and breaking stars: breaking stars like Masamune and Gingka” he stared at me, probably shocked at where my sudden agency came from: “and you were not picked up from a dumpster to play, you were selected as a rarity. Please remember this!”

He stared for a second longer, before clearing his throat, and then giving me a strong, tight hug: “Thank you Camila, really.”

“Well well, what do we have here?” Damian’s voice echoed behind us, he was accompanied by Jack. Zeo broke off the hug gently: “Camila helped me with my nerves before the battle, which is usually a captain’s job.”

“There’s no need for nerves, Zeo. Simply don’t dissapoint and everything’s fine.” Damian brushed him off with his trademark grin.

“Damian!” I gasped at how inconsiderate he was being.

“I’m not even being rude” he said to all of us very bluntly: “I am just saying if he recalled the number of zeros behind his training costs and his paycheck, he should forget all about nerves!”

“Now, now, kiddies” Ziggurat came up to us as well: “No commotion please. Today is an important day.” He shot me a glance as well: “Starbreaker is about to make history, Hades is about to make history, and we also have our debut with Camila.” He added the latter in a noticably more condescending tone, but then again I was just an accessory in this narrative. We boarded the helicopter and were brought to the stadium by 11:15, accomodated to a room in the backstage.

“Camila, from what I understand you’re on the first row next to the exit, correct?” Ziggurat asked in a very dry manner while looking over some paperwork. The boys and I were seated at a table:

“Yeah, right next to where Starbreaker stands.” I caught Damian’s glance.

“Excellent” he concured, before flipping his folder closed: “Could I please ask you for a few minutes alone with the boys?”

I hated how cold and alienating talking to Ziggurat made me feel; as if every answer I said was considered mostly incorrect but tolerably acceptable. I agreed and left the room, deciding to have a small walk along the hall before coming back. Strolling around the empty tunnel-like hallway, my boots’ short heels made much more noise than one would’ve expected. Because of this, I didn’t hear other footsteps approaching from behind:

“Ah, sorry miss do you maybe know where the bathroom is?”

I turned around, equally surprising and being surprised by Ginka and the girl that accompanied them: “Gingka!”

“Camila! What are you doing here?”

For some reason, I suddenly felt utterly embarrassed to say I am here with Starbreaker because the last time he saw me I was wheeping for Excalibur; I also didn’t feel like doing myself a disservice in a moment where I didn’t have time to explain myself properly:

“I am actually also looking for the bathroom!”

“Ah good let’s look for it together!” He smiled at me, the girl adding: “Yeah, the bathroom can’t remain hidden from three people looking for it!” I followed them to the bathroom, which ended up being nearby, and reapplied some lipgloss just to do something until they came out of the stalls to wash their hands:

“Guys, I need to go now, but I wish you lots of luck okay?” I smiled at them, although I was lying through my teeth: “Have you found a third member?”

“Ah no, unfortunately I’ll probably take on two from Starbreaker. We’ll see who though!” Ginka smiled at me, with no idea he was talking to a Starbreaker informant: “Thank you, please cheer for us!”

“Of course” I gave them a thumbs up, adding: “see you out there!” Before swiftly leaving to return to the Starbreaker room.

After closing the door behind me, I realised the boys were by themselves and Ziggurat had gone somewhere:

“Gan Gan Galaxy don’t have a third member” I announced, observing Damian for his reaction: “I just ran into Gingka and that girl in the bathroom”

“Resourceful” Jack said in a kind of flerting voice. Damian grinned: “Look at you, Camila, a real Star-breaker.” He alluded to the metaphor I told him last night. Soon after, Ziggurat returned and I had to depart to get my seat before the match began. I was nervous and excited, mostly for Damian’s sake, but also for Zeo and Jack; I wanted to see Damian win and to see Zeo get his revenge against that moron Masamune. With the exact strike of noon, the presenters announced the final battle with energising theatrics:

“The first team to arrive are our very own US representatives: team Starbreaker! There they are!” The one in the ridiculous white suit and tophat announced as the boys stepped out into view. I clapped very hard, and tried to whistle as a sign of support but failed miserably at the attempt.

With a blush, I observed how attractive Damian looked in the displays on the screens across the stadium, as the presenter resumed: “These finalists have won their way here with complete ease! Making a live appearance today is this newcomer: Zeo!”

“Zeo! Zeo! Zeo!” I clapped and chanted.

“And the guy who might carve out his art of victory into the stadium again today, the true artist of Blading: Jack!”

“Wooohoooo! Jaaack!” I clapped even harder, knowing my darling is up next:

“And last but not least, the fearsome guide of Hades, his opponents tremble before him: Damian!”

I stood up and managed to push out a whistle, clapping my already pink, sore hands: “Go Damian! Break stars!”

Gan Gan galaxy was announced next, and I saw Starbreaker were talking something inaudible among themselves before Jack noticed where I was, and waved at me. Zeo waved as well, while Damian shot me wink and a pearly winner’s smile. The first battle between Masamune and Zeo was announced, and I was back on my feet again cheering him on.

The beginning of the match was quite dramatic, as Masamune and Zeo exchanged a heated argument before ripping: one that is very cryptic to those who are not familiar with what happened between them. Zeo’s tall Bey resisted Masamune’s continuous reaches for an attack, which was an entertaining start to say the least. But the entire match was laced with absolute hate; a side of Zeo I didn’t see even when he was telling me about Masamune and Toby. Zeo’s special move had Masamune’s Striker in a chokehold, so I expected the match to be over soon. But then Gingka yelled some instructions to Masamune, telling him to strike Byxis from above.

“How is this fair?” I uttered under my breath. I wondered how is it allowed to help out your teammate in the middle of a battle like this, while the American fans booed loudly with the same idea in mind. According to Gingka’s instructions, Striker descended onto Byxis with great force. But then, Zeo suddenly burst with a massive wave of blue, cold energy, which blew away pamphlets from the hands of the audience; but where did this come from? Consumed and confused with the situation, I was at the edge of my seat trying to understand what I could expect next. Zeo was yelling something that was unintelligible to the audience because of the wind and sounds of the energy burst, when suddenly - it was over.

“Did he win?” I heard a boy sitting next to me ask his friend, as we were all onlooking over each others’ heads to see the outcome. Masamune was unconscious, his bey next to him, and Zeo was on his knees briefly before slipping onto his side, fainting as well. I assumed this entire and abrupt win was the result of the Arrangement, and because this was my first time seeing Zeo in battle I understood how much struggle he had to go through to get this far; he truly deserved this win. A brief recess was called as Zeo and Masamune were taken away on stretchers, but the crowds blocked every milimetre I could move in, so I was halted from joining Starbreaker in the backstage and forced to simply await the next match between Jack and Gingka.

[modal-mixture]

If I could run through time...

March 12, 2023. Spring forward.

It’s been 5+ years since I ran this blog. More accurately, this blog was running me, as if I had something to prove to others. Having read through some of my old posts again, I’m glad I left behind some of these toxic emotions. I always liked writing, I just wish I processed my younger thoughts in a healthier way (who doesn’t). Thoughts so ugly it hurt to read and think about. Thoughts full of doubt, indecisiveness, lies I told myself and others... But there were also warm, unique, and strangely funny thoughts. I never missed an opportunity to praise friends and experiences. I'd come here when I was as happy as when I was sad. I’d come here to give good advice I couldn’t follow myself.

My drafts are full of pep talks, chord progressions, lyrics, college thesis chapters, and my chances at love. Since the height of my casual blogging, I’ve gotten rid of some of my “deep cuts” posts over the years. I’d run away from myself so I could look forward. Only to not run far at all. I’d forgotten many things.

I'd run towards people and experiences as passionately as I'd run away from them. I'd run in circles. Sometimes in small familiar ones. Sometimes in larger, unknown ones. Sometimes full circle.

If I could run through time, I'd reach out a hand to myself in this cold world of mine... To my surprise, today I have a chance to work out things I wasn't able to work out alone over the years. I'm so grateful she reached out. The question is how long I'll stick around and whether I'll stop running for once. This Spring is a refreshing one.

[live-laugh-loverpool]

I’ll Protect You

Tags: @millythegoat, @alissonbecksfan234

Warning: angst, lots of angst, mentions of depression (but it all gets better)

Dear Diary:

It’s me, Pep Lijnders, with another entry in this diary. Boy, was today strange. I mean, everybody knows Jurgen and Ali are really close. But I never thought they could have been this close…

Alisson slowly made his way into the room. He had no idea why his vision was so blurry...no, it couldn't be. Slowly, his eyes settled on the figure.

He didn't know why he'd chosen to come last of all--if Fabi or Bobby were here, maybe they would have prevented him from collapsing into the chair. 

"Ali..." A hand on his shoulder, the last time he would feel it. Ever. "Don't lose hope. You have to go on with your life."

"N-not without you! I can't!"

"It's not your fault. You know I've never been that careful about myself."

"Please, come on..." He couldn't take it anymore. "Don't leave me."

"I love you, Ali. You're like the son I never had."

"I’m not even remotely related to you."

"Haha, true." A sigh. "Ali, no matter what happens...I love you to death, remember that? Make sure... you keep smiling. That everybody keeps smiling. Keep hugging them...joking."

"Why'd you have to accidentally crash into a lake because you were busy helping me over the phone?!"

A sigh, then a shaking of the head. "Take care of them, Ali." Then a slammed door, combined with the sounds of muffled sobs.

Alisson jolted out of his sleep, panting heavily. He ran his hands through his hair in a futile effort to calm himself down, and examined the room. Firmino was snoozing in the bed next to him, and the digital clock glowed, reading: 6:24 AM.

"Relax, Ali," Alisson whispered in the dark. "It was just a nightmare, you're in the same room with Bobby. The boss is just down the hall, with Lijnders. Everything is alright."

But while his mouth spoke the words, his mind sim

ply couldn't believe them. He sprinted out the door, not even remembering his slippers.

"Uma, duas, três, quatro, cinco, seis portas. Please be okay, boss, please be okay," Alisson pleaded as he opened the door ever so slightly, tiptoeing to the closest bed. But he accidentally knocked over an orange vase, and he dived behind a dresser before Klopp woke up.

"Just a vase," he chuckled, placing the vase back on its stand. "You gave me quite the scare there, buddy."

Alisson flopped onto the floor, breathing a sigh of relief. One of his worst nightmares still hadn't come true.

But I need to be more careful, he thought as he slunk out of the room, creeping down the hall. He winced, only now did he notice the cold tile. I can't let anything happen to him.

*

After a sleepless night like the one before, Alisson would be exhausted, falling asleep at breakfast. But for some reason--he didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the coffee--he was all jittery.

“Ali, quit bouncing your leg,” Fabinho groaned for the fifth time that day. “You’re going to knock over my coffee!”

Alisson didn’t even pay attention. He continued stirring his coffee, not even sure if he was hungry anymore.

“Ali?” Firmino raised an eyebrow, leaning on the table. “Did something happen? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Okay?!” Internally, the keeper facepalmed. His effort to sound cheerful was just awful. “Of course I’m okay! Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“You’re bouncing your leg, and you only do that when you’re nervous,” Firmino pointed out. “Plus, that coffee is going to give up on you and hire a carousel if you keep on stirring it.”

“I’m fine, Bobby, don’t worry.” Alisson shrugged, pushing his plate away. “I’m just not that hungry.”

“But you’re always hungry,” Fabinho protested. “You know you can talk to us if anythings wrong, right Bobby?”

Before Firmino could respond, the door to the cafeteria creaked open. It was Klopp, carrying a cup of hot coffee.

“Sorry I’m late, boys!” he announced. “I’ve been getting so used to Kirkby, that I completely forgot where the cafeteria here was!”

“OUR GAFFER IS OLD! OUR GAFFER IS OLD!” Robertson chanted. “Hit it, Calvin!”

The two Scots bounced in their seats, and soon Alexander-Arnold joined in, too. Klopp didn’t mind--he even began dad-dancing to the impromptu karaoke as well. But it was all interrupted when Alisson grabbed his coffee.

“Ali?” Klopp was surprised by Alisson’ erratic behavior, to say the least. The goalkeeper was usually…not erratic. “Are you trying to steal my Bundes-coffee? You know I need that thing to stay sane throughout the day.”

“It’s…it’s fine! I was just thinking…what if you dropped it? Can’t have anything happen to you, now can we?” Alisson laughed nervously, carrying the coffee to a table. “Here, sit, sit! Very quickly, please! We can’t risk you standing up!”

“Is this some type of April Fool’s Day joke?” Klopp raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Because it’s very late--it’s almost July.”

Robertson shrugged, tray in hand. “I wouldn’t worry, gaffer. Maybe Alisson accidentally stole your tin-foil hat and so is having crazy predictions like Joel!”

The whole cafeteria erupted into laughter. But Klopp didn’t. He could sense that something was up--or was Robertson right? Maybe he was just being too paranoid.

*

“Thanks again, Fernando,” said Klopp a couple of hours later, taking the sack of mail from the elderly mailman. Somehow, he ran into Fernando in Thailand. “Are you sure you shouldn’t retire?”

“What do you mean?” Fernando yelped. Although he was eighty-nine now, Fernando wasn’t looking forward to retirment at all. If anything, he was trying to avoid it. “Have I aged that badly?”

“Oh, no no no!” Klopp fumbled to find an excuse. “It’s just that…you’re old enough to be my dad and…”

“Well, then.” Fernando scoffed, hauling his mail sack into the van. “At least my mind is still sharp enough to not confuse ‘brainfog’ with brain--”

“Alright, that’s quite enough!” The German shrugged, waving Fernando off. “Um…good seeing you as always, see ya later, Fernando!”

“But Jurgen…”

Before Fernando could say anything, Klopp ran up the driveway, slamming the door behind him and sighing in relief. He certainly didn’t want to touch upon that subject again.“That was a close one,” he muttered to himself, carrying the heavy mail bag onto the pitch. “A very close one by the way--OOF!”

In two seconds flat, Klopp found himself on the floor, mail scattered all over the hall. Unfazed, Klopp dusted himself off and got set trying to find the culprit. Apparently, he had tripped over Florrie’s toy lion. He shrugged, stuffing the softie into the mail bag as well.

“The German has brought the mail!” Klopp announced, striding into the hotel assembly hall. “And there’s something for Baby Florrie here, too.”

“You mean your grandkid Florrie!”

“Okay, seriously Robbo?” Alexander-Arnold playfully rolled his eyes, bouncing Florrie on his hip. “Are you deranged or what? Or is your wee, pale body getting to you again?”

“No, come on, mate!” Robertson opened the tiny navy blue blue notebook he carried around everywhere, and Alexander-Arnold couldn’t hide his smile. Ever since Scotland had failed to qualify for the World Cup, Robertson had been uncharacteristically (but understandably) sullen about it, to the point where he’d tried to avoid anything blue, even the sky itseld. Oatmeal cookies, Irn Bru, “Fernando” by ABBA--Alexander-Arnold had tried everything to cheer his best friend up, but no dice had come out of it. So seeing Robertson joke around and begin to heal on his own was a good sign for him.

“According to Chapter 39, titled ‘Wee Bairn Florrie’, Florrie is Milly’s kid primarily, Ali comes in second and Hendo comes in third. So therefore, if Florrie is Ali’s kid and Ali is the gaffer’s kid, then Florrie is the gaffer’s grandkid and--”

“Oh my god, Robbo!” Tsimikas groaned, handing Adrian a pair of earplugs. “Will you just shut up?!”

“Oi, you wanted me talking,” Robertson argued, snapping the book shut. “So here you go!”

Klopp groaned, thinking here we go AGAIN. 

“Trent wanted you talking!”

“You helped him!”

“I was dragged into it!”

“You were also dragged into playing for your joke of a national team! Win a World Cup first, mate!”

“Oh, really? Why don’t you and your Tartan Nursery qualify for a World Cup, ‘working-class hero’?”

“Lads, stop it!” Henderson, taking things into his own hands as always, tried to steer Tsimikas away from Robertson, but failed. “Just apologize to each other!”

“Is it ever that easy around here?” Milner snarked, passing Matip the popcorn. “No tempeh in this popcorn, Joel.”

“It’s a Tartan Army,” Robertson mumbled. Undoubtedly, the wound from the World Cup qualifiers was still raw, and Tsimikas’ comment had hit him hard. “And…”

“You went and drank a whole beer before the game!” Tsimikas went on. “You heard of the 48-hour rule before? Or are we sure that was beer and not Scottish whisky? You know, from the country of drunkards?”

“Yo eyebags are so big, I wouldn’t be surprised if you worked for Liverpool Night Club instead for Liverpool Football Club!”

“Yo team is so insignificant, it only ranks 45 in the FIFA national rankings!”

“Yo team is so ancient, they’re only in…” Robertson grabbed his phone. “Let’s see, Greece fifa ranking…wait, the rankings don’t exist. They’re only showing me Greek yogurt.”

“Well, yo team is so drunk, when I google Scotland, they only show cans of rubbing alcohol!”

“That’s enough out of you two!” Klopp commanded. “Kostantinos, to my office.”

“Yes, sir,” Tsimikas mumbled, slinking out of the room. He froze halfway towards the door, though. “Wait, where is your office?”

“Ugh, right, we’re not in Kirkby now. Alright, Kostas, go to your room!”

“And you say we’re not your kids,” Tsimikas muttered, slamming the door behind him. “You’re literally grounding me.”

“And Robbo.” He addressed the Scot, who clung onto Alexander-Arnold like the world was going to end. “I will definitely address your nightclub joke by saying…it’s true.”

Robertson whipped out his blue book to scribble the information in, while Florrie spotted something familiar in the bag.

“Sage!” she squealed, grabbing at the bag. “Sage!”

“Try to be more careful with him, okay Florrie?” Klopp handed her the stuffed animal. “I tripped over it in the hallway.”

“Are you okay?” Florrie tilted her head, trying to scan Klopp over. “Are you okay, boss?”

“I will be okay--”

“You tripped in the hall?!” Alisson burst in with a first-aid kit, frantically grabbing Klopp’s shoulder and examining it. “Okay, so you haven’t dislocated your shoulder from celebrations. Any bruises? Third-degree burns? Boss, be careful, please!”

“Ali, I’m fine!” Klopp tried to assure him, stepping away. “I just tripped over Sage. I’m fine.”

“But what if you broke your ankle?!” Alisson protested, taking out the gauze. “Maybe we should wrap your ankle before it gets cut and--”

“It takes more than tripping over a stuffed lion to get me injured!” Klopp pointed out, handing the mail bag to Henderson. “I played in third-division football, they don’t have all these fancy medical stuff, you know! Back in my day, there was no such thing as the ‘magic spray’. It was just us, water and--”

“Alright then, enough with the ancient history lesson, boss!” Henderson began distributing the mail. “You better go talk with Kostas.”

Klopp nodded, walking out the room. He frowned when he found out baby gates had been placed in front of the elevator--then read the note attached to them.

I can’t have anything happen to you. Alisson.

“What is going on, Ali?” Klopp wondered aloud, stepping over them and entering the elevator. “What is it that you’re not telling me?”

*

“And he’s just really jittery now, and he won’t even tell me what’s wrong,” Klopp vented as he and Lijnders archived the previous year’s plans. “He even put baby gates in front of the elevator.”

“Okay, no

w that’s a stretch.” Lijnders opened another new suitcase, removing five briefcases from it. “I hope he’s okay.”

“Pep.” Klopp set aside his stack of papers, removing his hat. “Do you think I’m unapprochable?”

“Of course not!!” Lijnders shouted, dropping his own papers. “You’re the most approachable manager I’ve worked with!”

“Then why won’t Ali tell me what’s going on?” the German questioned out loud.

“Maybe it’s personal,” Lijnders suggested, although he knew he was probably wrong. “Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Pepijn, I know my boys,” Klopp pointed out, flopping back onto the bed. “Ali doesn’t hide things from us. If something’s bothering him, he always talks about it--and if he doesn’t, then I’m worried. What if somebody hurt him?”

“Milly would have kicked their butt to Washington D.C. already.” Lijnders chuckled at his own joke, stopping when he realized it had fallen flat. “Sorry, Jurgen, I have no idea what could be wrong with him.”

They remained like that for a good while, before Klopp sat up with a start. “Are there any shamans around here?”

“What?!” Lijnders’ hair almost popped off in surprise. “What do shamans have to do with them?”

“I heard Mo say something about a shaman the other day,” Klopp explained. “They’re similar to magicians, I think. Wait a minute--do you have Philippe’s phone number? He’s the magician we need!”

“He’s a magician, not a mind reader!” Lijnders groaned in disgust. “And a little magician won’t work for this!”

“That’s right!” Klopp whipped out his cell phone, punching numbers in. “We need to bring out the biggest sorcerer there is--Ronaldo ‘El Phenomeno’ Nazario da Lima!!!”

“Are you INSANE?!”

“Okay, maybe I should bring Milner’s old City teammate, David--”

“Jurgen. Norbert. Klopp.” Lijnders grabbed Klopp before he could call the former Matinees player. “Magic is not the answer to our problems. Asking Ali if he’s okay is the answer.”

“But I’ve tried that already.”

A loud knock interrupted their little conversation. Lijnders opened the door to see an exhausted-looking Fabinho.

“Fabi?” Klopp was up in an instant, striding towards the door. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

“No.” Fabinho shook his head, leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath. “Nothing’s okay!”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Ali,” the Brazilian revealed. “He fainted.”

*

When Alisson came to, he instantly realized that he hadn’t just fallen asleep. He was in another bed that was not his, and an orange vase stood on the dresser.

Wait a minute…

“Ali! Are you okay?”

“Boss!” Alisson jumped when he saw Klopp hovering over him. “What happened to you?”

“I was just going to ask you that. You fainted in the cafeteria and I had to carry you here.”

So that was what had happened. 

“You shouldn’t have carried me!” Alisson exclaimed, grabbing onto Klopp’s hand. “What if you broke your back, or slipped a disk? What if I thrashed out and I broke your rib--”

“Alisson! What is going on with you?!”

“Desculpe?”

“You’ve been fussing over me all day!” Klopp reminded him. “And you haven’t even told me what’s wrong! Do you not even trust me? I mean, I’m just your manager, but since you’ve literally been waiting on my hand and foot--”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Alisson began. But then something snapped in his brain. “I didn’t realize that you think you’re invincible!”

“Ali, I’m fine--”

“You don’t even stop for two minutes to relax! On holiday, you’re busy with paperwork. On Christmas, paperwork. And when you’re not doing paperwork, you’re hanging out with us or the staff or something! You never take time for yourself!”

“I do it for us!”

“You make your whole life about us! To the point where you could get hurt and you wouldn’t even care!” Okay, maybe that was a stretch, but Alisson had to make a point. “If you won’t worry about yourself, I might as well worry about you for you! And to think that you could crash into a lake heping me?! I can’t let that happen, boss!”

Klopp froze. “What?!”

“Y-you were driving and you accidentally pressed the gas pedal! And then you…you almost drowned in the lake. I-I can’t have anything happen to you!”

“Ali…if you’d just told me--”

“Then you’d try to find help for me!” Alisson exclaimed, tightening his grip on Klopp. “You’d go in the car and then you’d call me, and then my worst nightmare would come true!”

“Your worst nightmare?”

Alisson nodded, swallowing the enormous lump in his throat. “I can’t lose you.”

“Ali…wow.” Klopp shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I…I don’t know what to say. I thought something happened and you were afraid of telling me, but that nightmare? It’s way worse.”

“I didn’t want to tell you because if I talked about it, it would just feel more…” The keeper struggled to find the right words. “Real, y’know? And I know it was only a nightmare, but it really…”

“Scared you, didn’t it?”

He nodded, speechless.

Klopp was truly speechless. Not knowing what else to say, he tried to take Alisson’ hand, but the Brazilian shook his head, balling them instead.

“Ali,” the German began, taking a seat. “I…I don’t know what to say. You being…so terrified, it kills me--”

At those words, Alisson leapt off the bed, running to the door. He shoved a dresser across the wall-to-wall carpeting until it blocked the door and collapsed against it, clearly winded.

“Ali?” It was all Klopp could bring himself to say after watching the strange display of fear from Alisson. “Why’d you do that?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt!” Alisson exclaimed, shutting the window blinds. “I…I can’t have you get hurt. You mean too much to me.”

“GAFFER! THE KITCHEN’S ON FIRE!!!”

“COMING, Robbo!” Klopp sent an apologetic glance to Alisson. “Ali, I’m going to be careful, I promise. But I need to put out the kitchen fire, or we’ll be fined. Is it okay if we talk later?”

“Boss! You can’t put out a fire!”

“I’ve put out Rangnick’s kitchen fires enough times to know what I’m doing.”

“But you can get burnt!”

“I’ll try to be careful,” Klopp promised as he slipped through a crack in the door. Alisson followed suit, chasing after his manager like his life depended on it. He settled on clinging to Klopp’s ankles and being dragged about on the floor…for about twelve feet.

“Ali, you don’t understand!” Klopp groaned, starting to lose his patience. “The fire can spread, and then we’re all in danger! The kitchen’s on the floor with half of our rooms, I have to help them!”

But Alisson couldn’t take it anymore. He sat on the floor, clutching Klopp’s ankle with a vise-like grip.

“Ever thought about the fact that you aren’t any good to us if you don’t take care of yourself?!” he screeched, refusing to let go. “You trip over your own feet all the time!”

“I’ve been clumsy since I can remember Ali, now I have to handle the fire--”

“Can’t somebody else do it?!” Alisson yelled over the increasing hubbub coming from downstairs. “Anybody?!”

“Jurgen, me and Ludger have the fire under control!” Konigsburg called from the first floor. Ludger flapped above him, a bucket of water in his talons. “Stay where you are! And don’t try to jump out the window! You’re not that young anymore!”

“See, someone else can do it!” Alisson insisted. Now that Klopp wasn’t rushing to the kitchen anymore, he finally got up, now taking Klopp’s hands. “Boss. I’m scared of nightmares coming true. I did take a risk with the nightmare that Muriel became bald, but I can’t take any chances with you.”

“Ali, you’re getting pale…”

“SHUT THE CRAP UP!”

Klopp took a double take, stepping away from Alisson like he was venom. Despite the uncanny similarities between the two, Alisson never swore. So this had to be serious.

“You never swear.” Great, that was excellent.

“Boss, stop dancing around the issue,” Alisson pleaded. “I’m begging you. You may have been clumsy all your life, but you’re not that young and spry anymore. You’re 55. You can’t take those risks--one fall can become a compound fracture, easily.”

With that, Alisson turned away, walking down the hall. He disappeared behind his room door, locking it.

*

“I messed up.”

“We know, Jurgen,” Kornmayer groaned, motioning to the tally-marked whiteboard behind him. “You’ve said it fourteen times already, and breakfast isn’t even over yet.”

“It’s just that--I made Alisson swear.” Klopp pushed away his coffee, which Lijnders drank in seconds. “And he almost never swears! But I sort of get it. Can you imagine a nightmare like that where your manager--”

“Enough!” Lijnders, high on caffeine, slammed the conference table in annoyance. “Jurgen, it was

just a misunderstanding. Both of you have points. Ali was getting overprotective, but you have to start remembering how old you are.”

“I’m not Ronaldo, I don’t live in an illusion that I’m young!” Klopp protested. “I just need to stop tripping over thin air, that’s all.”

“Who trips over thin air?!”

“Let’s see. Raheem Sterling, Neymar, Jack Grealish, Kostas when he’s at his nightclub--”

“Chefe!”

From the middle of nowhere, Alisson burst into the room. It only took two seconds for him to locate Klopp and take a seat next to him.

“Ali!” Klopp sighed in relief. “I was worried about you. I just wanted to say--”

“I was wrong,” they said at the same time, prompting the others to chuckle.

“You first,” Alisson sighed, leaning on the conference table.

“I was doing some thinking last night. It turns out…you were right, Ali. I’m not exactly an acrobat and I don’t think I try enough to keep myself out of trouble.”

“You think?!” Alisson couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You have an entire plane, file set and ritual dedicated to kicking butt.”

“I do it to protect you boys!” Klopp protested. “Don’t I, Pep?”

But Lijnders just grinned. “I wouldn’t say so. You planned a joint celebrity invasion of the British Parliament because they were getting on your nerves.”

“Hey, Tory Boris Johnson resigned a couple of days later, so I call it a success!”

“Whatever.” Alisson threw his hands into the air, exasperated. “What I’m saying is, you’re just so clumsy.”

“And you worry too much,” Klopp retorted, crossing his arms. “So let’s call a truce?”

“What truce?”

“Simple: I don't stick my nose where it isn’t needed, and you don’t try to take away my coffee.”

Alisson thought this over for a while. “Can I come sleep over with you and Lijnders if I have a nightmare?”

Taffarel almost choked on his own coffee, while Kornmayer and Lijnders burst into laughter. Even Ludger hooted from his cage, as if the owl was laughing as well.

“Fine,” Klopp accepted, shaking his head in amusement. “Can this team get any stranger?”

“What if I told you,” Alisson smirked, “that Hendo knew a bit of engineering?”

“WHAT?!”

[plan-d-to-i]

wwx didn't even say that he would serve jc forever. He said that he would be his right hand man, not serve. Plus, he didn't promise. He just said that in order to cheer jc up...

“Wei WuXian put his hand on his shoulder again, “In the future, you’ll be the sect leader, and I’ll be your subordinate, like your father and my father. So what if the GusuLan Sect has its Two Jades? The Yunmeng Jiang Sect will have its Two Prides! So, shut up. Who said that you don’t deserve to be the sect leader? Nobody can say this, even you can’t either. If you do you’re looking for a beating.” (Chapter 56)

“Wei WuXian moved his lips, but he couldn’t say anything. Lan WangJi turned around to hold his hand. On the other hand, Jiang Cheng refused to give up, shouting, “Wei WuXian, who was the one who broke his promise and betrayed the Jiang Sect first? Tell me. That I’d be the sect leader and you’d be my subordinate, that you’d help me your whole life, that so long as the GusuLan Sect had its Two Jades, the YunmengJiang Sect would have its Two Prides, that you’d never betray me or betray the Jiang Sect—who was the one that said these?! I’m asking you—who was the one that said all these?! Did you eat all your fucking words?!” (Chapter 102exr)

another version

Wei WuXian’s lips moved but, ultimately, he couldn’t say a word. Lan WangJi turned to him and held his hand. Jiang Cheng, however, was still not finished. He scathed without holding back, “Wei WuXian, who’s the one who went back on his words? Who’s the one who betrayed our Jiang Sect? Who’s the one that told me that when I became the sect leader, you’d be my subordinate, you’d support me forever, that if the Gusu Lan Sect has Two Jades then the Yunmeng Jiang Sect would have Two Prides, that you wouldn’t ever betray the Jiang Sect?! You tell me—who said those words?! I’m asking you, who said those words?! Did you fucking swallow them all?! (Chapter 102)

interestingly enough it looks like an earlier draft didn't have the "Two Prides" moment: "Wei WuXian put his arm over Jiang Cheng’s shoulders again and said, “When you become the clan leader, I’ll be your right hand man, just like your dad and my dad. So shut your mouth. Who said you’re not fit to be the clan leader? Nobody can say that, not even you. Say it again and I’ll beat you."(chapter 56)

Regardless, nowhere in WWX's pep talk -BC IT IS A FUCKING PEP TALK NOT A LEGAL CONTRACT NEGOTIATION since jc is throwing a full size tantrum when WWX just woke up from his convalescence- does WWX talk about forever. Ironically enough he says "like my father and your father"! and we all know Wei Changze left to marry the love of his life WITH JFM's blessing, bc JFM wasn't a little turd lord like his whiny, needy, controlling, entitled son. Of all the lessons WWX tried to teach jc, about doing the right thing & helping others the fact that jc fixated on the idea of a lifetime of subservience from a guy he always knew was better than him in every way, wherein WWX's autonomy and morality would be done away with, doesn't actually make jc look better...

you know this brings up another moment tho that jc stans like to forget:

“Seeing how worried he seemed, Wei WuXian took the initiative, “Relax. I won’t tell Uncle Jiang. I only hurt myself because I suddenly wanted to climb a tree last night.”

Hearing this, Jiang Cheng sighed in relief. He swore, “You can relax as well. Anytime I see a dog, I’ll chase it away for you!” (Chapter 71 exr)

and another version

Wei WuXian said, “Relax, I won’t tell Uncle Jiang. After all, I hurt my leg because I suddenly wanted to climb a tree in the middle of the night.”

Jiang Cheng let out a sigh of relief upon hearing that. He vowed, “You can relax, too. After today, if we ever see a dog, I’ll make sure to chase it away for you!” (X)

AND guess what!

Jiang Cheng spoke again. “Let me borrow your dog.”

Jin Ling recovered from his dazed stupor and hesitated briefly, but Jiang Cheng’s gaze of cold lightning swept toward him. The boy whistled and the black-maned spirit dog bounded over in three strides. Wei Wuxian’s entire body turned as stiff as a slab of iron. He could only allow himself to be dragged by the hand, and trudge step by step forward.

Jiang Cheng found an empty room and threw Wei Wuxian inside. The spirit dog followed them into the room and sat at the entrance, and Jiang Cheng closed the door behind them. Wei Wuxian’s eyes were fixed on the dog, in case it abruptly rushed toward him, and he reflected on how quickly he had been subjugated. Jiang Cheng knows how to manipulate me as well as he knows the back of his hand. ...

Jiang Cheng’s answering smile was brimming with fury. “Fine. Then let’s see which of us truly hasn’t shown an ounce of improvement.”

He sat motionless by the table and let out a shout. The spirit dog immediately stood up.

Wei Wuxian’s entire body had already become covered in a layer of cold sweat from sharing a room with the animal. He eyed the dog, who was more than half a man’s height, with fangs protruding from its mouth. His ears filled with the dog’s low growl, and every part of him, from his toes to the top of his head, went numb. His memory of his period of childhood homelessness was blurry, but if he remembered anything, it was the panicked terror of being chased down the street, and the unbearable agony of sharp teeth and claws digging into his flesh. The fear ran deep in his heart, buried inside like thick roots in soil—no matter how much he tried, he could not soothe or overcome it. (Chapter 24)

MEANWHILE

“Wei WuXian stood below the tree and walked around it a couple of times, slapping the trunk, “I’ve climbed this tree before.”

Lan WangJi, “You have climbed every single tree on our way here.”

Wei WuXian, “But this one’s different! This was the first one I climbed after I came to Lotus Pier. I climbed it in the middle of the night. My shijie came out to search for me, holding a lantern. She was scared I’d fall down the tree, so she prepared to catch me on the ground. But what could she catch with her thin little arms? And so I still broke one of my legs.”

Looking at his legs, Lan WangJi asked, “Why did you climb the tree at night?”

Wei WuXian bent down in laughter, “There’s no why. You know. I love fooling around outside at night. Haha.” (chapter 87exr)

Wei Wuxian keeps what he saw as his part of a promise he made as a child even after jiang cheng tortured him with Fairy. Which makes it clear he saw the Two Prides bootleg of Twin Jades as the pep talk it was, not an unbreakable vow.

[mizunetzu]

wait okay i have so many ideas you have no clue- okay so basically y/n is too scared to confess to either ushijima or shinsou (you decide lol) so he just puts love notes in his locker :)) but ushijima/shinsou catches him one day so he teases him about it but he liked y/n too so he lowkey confesses and its super fluffy i- 🥺🥺 i've had this idea for so long but i have no clue where to start writing it myself lolll

Guess who...took 4 months...to do Mr. Shinsoussimps request...not me...ahahaha...what are you talking about...BUT ANYWAYS IM SO SORRY MR SHINSOU PLS TAKE THIS FIC AS MY APOLOGIES

——————

Ushijima x reader - Secret Admirer Love Letter-kun!

⚠️warnings - none

Pronouns- male, he/him

——————

(Y/n’s) hands shook as he traced the linings of his love letter.

It had a red, heart-shaped sticker on the seal flap, with the words ‘To Ushijima-san’ written in royal purple across the back. The letter had slight crinkles from the shaky grip (Y/n) held it with.

His heart raced purely thinking about how Ushijima would react. Would he even react? Or would he just look at him with that blank stare and walk past him? Would he be ridiculed for being a man giving a love letter to another man?

Every single intrusive thought made (Y/n) want to tear up the letter and flush it down a toilet. Nonetheless, he stood next to Ushijima’s locker, waiting for him to appear.

His legs shook. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. He could physically feel the sweat running down his forehead. He was probably gaining stares from other students for standing near Ushijima’s locker and panicking silently.

All these ‘what-if’s’ was beginning to make (Y/n) second-guess his decision. Maybe he couldn’t do this after all...

No! He had to! He’s been harboring his feelings for Ushijima for years now, and he was getting nowhere! Even if it was rejection, and he certainly hoped it was not, he needed an answer!

Just as if right on cue, (Y/n) heard the familiar deep voice of Ushijima coming down the hall. He wasn’t saying much, but the accompanied grunts of acknowledgement to Tendou’s ramblings was enough proof it was him. Without thinking, (Y/n’s) panic took over him, shoving his love letter into Ushijima’s locker and dashing out of the way.

He blended himself in with the gaggle of students near their lockers, watching Ushijima as he opened his own locker.

“Ara?” Tendou cocked his head when the letter (Y/n) slipped in fluttered out. It landed on the floor gracefully. Ushijima bent over and plucked it off the ground.

“Our Wakatoshi~kun has a secwet admiwer?” Tendou squashed his face together and boared curious eyes into the heart-shaped sticker on the note. Ushijima grunted.

“It seems to be a love letter.” Ushijima’s low voice sent even more panic through (Y/n). He didn’t want to be there while he opened the letter. But here he was, 10 feet away from him as he carefully peeled off the heart sticker from the envelope.

Ushijima’s eyes silently scanned the letter, it’s meticulous, thought-out writing filling Ushijima’s eyes. The silence rang so, so loud to (Y/n), as he watched Ushijima read his love letter with his emotionless face.

After what seemed like forever, Ushijima lifted his head up from the note. (Y/n’s) heart stopped.

“It is a love letter.” (Y/n), and Tendou, deadpanned.

Tendou reached for the letter. “Fiiiiine, then let me see-!”

Ushijima pulled the letter away, raising it above his head and out of Tendou’s easy reach. He lowered the letter and cradled it to his chest.

“No. It’s mine.”

(Y/n’s) heart fluttered. Could this mean-?

“But it does, however, have no name.”

“Awh. Poor Wakatoshi-kun’s admirer must be rewwy shy~”

(Y/n) internally facepalmed. Of course he forgot to sign the note! Why wouldn’t he?! (Y/n) crinkled up his nose. He was still determined to get his feelings to Ushijima.

He turned around, and walked to class. The next day, for sure, he was going to give him a love letter with his signature on it this time.

——

(Y/n) stared down at his paper, then shifted his eyes to the alarm clock sitting tauntingly at his dorm room’s desk, with the bright red numbers 10:35 pm glaring so menacingly at him. Like it was telling him to hurry up and sign the new love letter he just wrote. (Y/n) re-read the letter on his desk for the 6th time that night.

Everything was perfect. It explained his feelings perfectly, explained how long he’d been smitten for him for, hell, he even doodled a small picture of Ushijima himself with a heart next to it in the corner of the page.

Everything was there, except his name.

Did he really want to put his name, though? I mean, (Y/n) saw how...endearing Ushiwaka’s face looked reading his original letter. What if he ruined that when he finds out it was him who wrote it? And not some cute girl?

(Y/n) stared at the empty space on the page where his name was supposed to go. His hand gripped his pencil tighter than he should’ve, and began to write.

‘(L/n) (Y/...’

He stopped. (Y/n) thought about it for awhile, then grabbed his eraser and scrubbed at the name until it was pristine white again.

‘Your secret admirer’

Was all he wrote.

He packaged up the note in another small envelope, pressed a cute little heart sticker to the flap, and went to bed.

——

The next day, (Y/n) made sure to rush to school early to slip the note in his locker. He wanted to see his reaction to his new note. It made him feel sorta high. What kind of face would he make? Would he be delighted? He hoped he would.

(Y/n) crammed the note into Ushiwaka’s locker. No one was around. Good. No one saw him shove the letter through, therefore no one could tell Ushijima it was him. (Y/n) sighed contently, and timpered off somewhere secluded, but somewhere he could still see Ushijima and his locker.

After scrolling on his phone for what seemed like an hour, he heard Tendou’s familiar voice, humming a strange song and trailing next to Ushijima. It was his daily indicator that Ushijima was near. If he could hear Tendou coming, almost 100% Ushijima would be there too. (Y/n) pocketed his phone quickly and peeked behind a row of lockers.

Ushijima silently unhinged his locker, listening to Tendou talk. However, they fell silent when another letter fluttered out from his locker, this time landing so perfectly in his hands.

“Ara ara? Another note from Admirer-chan?”

“Yes. But I know it’s a boy, Tendou.”

(Y/n’s) heart dropped. He watched as Ushiwaka peeled off the heart sticker once more, while continuing his conversation with Tendou.

“Oh yeah? How so?”

Ushijima stopped, and reached into his locker once more. He pulled out (Y/n’s) previous note, and pointed to a line of text scribbled on there so neatly. Tendou raised his eyebrow, and leaned down to inspect the note.

‘-Besides, there’s no way someone as amazing as you can like a guy like me. It’s weird right? I hope you don’t think it’s weird. But I wouldn’t blame you.’

“Ahhhh~ makes sense...” Tendou hooked his arms dramatically over the back of his head. “But do you? Does Wakatoshi-kun think Secret Admirer-kun is weird?”

Ushijima traced the two love letters with his eyes. “I think he’s brave.”

(Y/n) clutched his tightening chest. It suddenly became really hard to breathe. How was Ushijima being so unintentionally sweet?

Tendou cooed. “Awwww, Is our Wakatoshi-kun catching feelings for his Admirer-kun?”

Ushijima folded the two notes back into their envelopes silently. He said nothing to Tendou’s remarks, while gently placing the two love letters back into a safe spot in his locker.

(Y/n) brisk-walked away, flustered, before he could hear his answer.

——

Writing notes and hiding them in Ushijima’s locker became a sort of habit for (Y/n) in the past few weeks.

Every now and then, he’d write a short love letter signed “Your Secret Admirer” or “Admirer-kun” and slip it under Ushijima’s dorm room door or the cracks between his locker. It became an addiction of watching him unravel the note with the tenderness of an angel. For such a big dude, he held each love letter (Y/n) wrote him with such delicacy.

(Y/n) walked with a pep in his step as he arrived to the school building early, like he’d usually been doing. He’d recently been writing small letters, playground compliments like “I think you look nice today!” or “the way you play volleyball gets me all fired up!” but this was the first time in a while he wrote a good chunk of his feelings out.

At first he thought he would make Ushijima uncomfortable, but after many of his personal notes filled with the most wonderful explanations of his feelings, or rambling about dates he’d like to take him on, he’s grown more comfortable with it. Especially after seeing the teeny tiny, barely noticeable blush tinting his cheeks as he read them.

(Y/n) stopped in front of Ushiwaka’s locker. It was a familiar stop, after cramming in letter after letter inside for about a month or two now. It’s been so long that (Y/n) couldn’t even remember himself.

Just as his hand met with the cold metal locker to slip the note in, two hands slammed down on (Y/n’s) shoulders, effectively scaring him shitless.

“I’ve caught you! Secret admirer-kun!”

“Uwaaaah!”

Tendou made a show of flamboyantly pointing his lanky fingers at (Y/n), bending his back father then (Y/n) knew was possible in the process. (Y/n) jittered, swinging his hands in front of him while stuttering incoherently.

“I-it-its not-! It’s not wh-what it-! T-the letter-I was just-I-!”

“There’s no use for it now, Secret-Admirer (L/n)-kun! You’ve been caught red handed!” Tendou stuck his tongue out heartily while (Y/n) broke into a cold sweat. If Tendou kept yelling the whole damn school would hear him.

“I-I’m not the one leaving notes in Ushijima-kun’s locker! I was just-!”

“Oya? Then how did you know Wakatoshi-kun was gettin’ notes in his locker in the first place?” Tendou eyed him down half jokingly. (Y/n) sputtered.

“More importantly...” Tendou dramatically pointed to the envelope half-sticking out from the slits of Ushijima’s locker. “Whaaaaats that!?”

“That’s-!”

There was no use fighting Tendou on this. (Y/n) deflated, defeated and grasping on to the wall of lockers for support. “Uuuuu...”

“So, Secret Admirer-“

“S-stop calling me that! Just (L/n) is fine-!”

“-Secret Admirer-kun, what made you fancy our lovely Wakatoshi-kun?”

(Y/n) turned around, facing the locker as Tendou smiled his usual, Tendou-grin. (Y/n) didn’t wanna look at Tendou and his stupid knowing smirk.

“He’s just...I dunno, he’s just so-cool...and stuff...and he’s so nice...looking...”

“Ah, such sophisticated words-tell me, do you write all of this down in the letters you give him?”

“Hey!” (Y/n) whipped his head around.

Tendou chuckled, and part of (Y/n) wanted to smack him upside the head. Tendous laughter eventually died down, as he pretended to wipe a tear from his cheek. He looked back at (Y/n), who was blushing profusely and had his arms crossed.

“Phew...haha...” Tendou cleared his throat. He pointed straight at (Y/n). “Now, here’s some ultra wise words from Satori-sama!” He mimicked a fake drum roll on his lap, before pointing at (Y/n) again.

“Ja-jun~! You should Wakatoshi-kun how you feel about him!”

(Y/n’s) heart got stuck in his throat. “A-are you crazy! I could never! I-I’m not...I’m not...I’m scared..”

“Hm? But you’re not scared to write about how much you wanna kiss him alllllllll oveeeeeer-?”

“That’s different!” (Y/n) yelled, more quietly this time. He turned back to the locker, and tipped the rest of the note in sticking out inside the slit. The note disappeared through the gap, just like all of its predecessors. “Like this, I can tell him how much I love him without him knowing it was from me! What if he’s disappointed it’s me and not some other dude?”

“I’m veeeeeery sure he won’t be. But suit yourself, I guess.” Tendou shrugged. He turned around and left, but not before saying,

“But you’d better tell him yourself before he finds out from someone else.”

“Wait-what does that mea-“

(Y/n) looked back, only to find Tendou gone. (Y/n) stood there, perplexed, before dashing off to his own locker, so he wouldn’t be spotted near Ushijima’s.

——

Everyday when (Y/n) went to slip another note into Ushiwaka’s locker, Tendou’s words would ring in his mind.

‘You’d better tell him yourself before he finds out from someone else.’

He knew that. He knew that but he couldn’t stop himself from cowardly slipping notes into Ushijima’s locker, just to run and take cover as he opened them up. And one time he could swear Tendou was looking right at him in his hiding spot when Ushijima was reading one of his letter.

(Y/n) shook the thoughts from his head. That happened 3 days ago, and nothing happened. Tendou was probably just trying to scare him into telling him. Yeah. There’s no way anyone could’ve found out about him being Ushijima’s secret admirer.

He huffed and strode up to Ushijima’s locker, just like he did every time before that. No one was in the hallway. There was no footsteps, at least to (Y/n’s) knowledge, and Tendou wasn’t around with his booming voice. If (Y/n) could hear Tendou coming, chances are Ushijima was not too far behind.

Tendou wasn’t there. (Y/n) was safe. He smiled and rose the letter up to the slot in Ushijima’s locker. He slowly crammed the note in, slowly, slowly until-

Slam!

A large, calloused hand slammed against the locker, making (Y/n) jolt up in surprise. (Y/n’s) heart stopped beating. He felt someone lean against his ear, and then they whispered:

“So Tendou was right. You were the one leaving the letters in my locker.”

“Ushijima-kun-!”

(Y/n) whipped his head around by the speed of lightning, pressing himself against the locker wall as if he’d disappear into it. Stupid fucking Tendou! Of course he’d tell Ushijima!

Ushiwaka didn’t move from his spot in front of (Y/n). His arm outstretched on the wall beside (Y/n) didn’t falter either, making him blush even more. God, he wanted to disappear.

The letter, now hidden crudely behind (Y/n) sweaty back, was being smushed as he tried shrinking in on himself.

“I-I-“ (Y/n’s) mouth ran dry. “It’s not what it looks like-!”

“Hm.” Ushijima’s deep voice manage to startle (Y/n), despite being right infront of him. God, he was close. So close. He’s too close. Oh god, why is he so close?

Ushijima suddenly grabbed (Y/n’s) hand, making him sputter in surprise as Ushijima pulled it out gently. A letter with a red heart sticker on the flap was wedged in between (Y/n’s) shaky, sweaty fingers. Ushijima looked at the envelope, while (Y/n) averted his embarrassed eyes.

“...But it’s exactly what it looks like.”

Words perished in (Y/n’s) throat. If the locker would just open up and swallow him whole, now was the time.

Ushiwaka plucked the note out of (Y/n’s) hands, ignoring the small protests of (Y/n) himself. He tried to grab for the letter, but Ushijima held the envelope high above his head and grabbed at (Y/n’s) shivering wrists. (Y/n) squeaked.

“...why are you trying to grab it back if this letter was meant for me in the first place?” Ushijima looked oblivious to (Y/n’s) embarrassment. (Y/n) croaked. He didn’t even register what Ushiwaka said with how strong and warm his grip on his wrists were.

He didn’t realize Ushijima managed to peel off the heart sticker and fish out the note with his hand until he started reading the letter. His eyes scanned the words, even when (Y/n) quietly squirmed protestingly in his grasp.

“Mm.” Ushijima hummed. (Y/n’s) eyes widened when he realized what he wrote in today’s note.

‘Y’know, I think you’re really cool with how you’re so dedicated to your club. But maybe...one day we could grab a bite to eat after your club activities? Just you and me? And maybe if I’m lucky enough I just might get a kiss from the amazing Ushijima Wakatoshi-kun~’

(Y/n) wanted no more but to die then and there. Ushijima looked at (Y/n) with an unreadable gaze.

“Ah. So it seems in today’s letter, you would like to go out for food and kiss. I am free after club activities today at 6. Are you free at that time or must we reschedule?”

(Y/n) met Ushijima’s state with a confused face. He said nothing-he couldn’t say anything. All he could do was muster up a weak “w-wha..?”

“So...you are not free today...?” Ushijima’s face was normal, but he gave off the same vibe a sad, kicked puppy would. It was sorta cute. (Y/n) waved his hands around frantically in Ushijima’s grasp.

“N-no! That’s not it! I-I’m free! I’m totally free! I just-“

“You just what?” Ushijima cocked his head to the side bluntly. (Y/n) opened his mouth to say something, but let it clamp shut quietly.

(Y/n) averted his gaze. “Well...you don’t think it’s...weird that I was the one leaving you love letters?”

“But I already knew you were a man in the first place.”

“Still!” Ushijima was genuinely confused. (Y/n’s) voice died down a bit.

“Aren’t you...y’know...disappointed?”

Ushijima’s gaze never left (Y/n’s) eyes. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“I’m...w-well...it’s just...”

Ushiwaka placed his free hand on the other side of (Y/n’s) face, effectively trapping him in between his arms. Ushijima’s heavy gaze was too much to bear. (Y/n) instinctively averted his gaze away.

“You still haven’t given me a valid reason to be disappointed.”

“I-“

“You’re lovely, I believe you are very attractive, and you leave nice letters of encouragement in my locker everyday.”

“Wait-“

“I believe we both have feelings for each other. Therefore, I do not see why you are so hesitant on just doing what today’s lovely note said.”

“Ushi-“

“Is this just an excuse to turn me down? Were the letters not your true feelings? Because if so you just have to say so-“

“Ushijima-kun!”

(Y/n) rasped out between his fingers. He was covering his blushing face, and Ushijima didn’t know why until he realized his face was centimeters away from (Y/n’s). If it weren’t for (Y/n’s) hands cupping his face, they’d probably be able to kiss with one push closer.

“P-ple-please s-step back...”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Ushijima moved back, but didn’t quite move his arms from their positions on either side of (Y/n). He blinked. Silence engulfed them both, Ushijima bluntly staring at (Y/n) as he blushed and blushed into his hands.

Ushijima figured he should say something, and even open his mouth to speak when (Y/n) suddenly piped up, bringing his hands down from his face.

“I-I’m free...at 6...”

Ushijima blinked again.

“Ah. Today?”

“Yeah..!”

“Lovely. It is decided then. Will you wait for me at the gym after practice? If not I can pick you up from your dorm room.”

(Y/n) fought the urge to pinch his arm to see if he was dreaming or not. “I-I can meet you at the gym!”

Ushijima smiled gently, and that’s probably the first time (Y/n’s) seen him smile ever. It was so coaxing, relaxed and warm, (Y/n) wanted to take of picture of it and just stare at it for days. Ushijima let his hands fall to his sides. Not before giving a pat to (Y/n’s) head.

“It is decided then. It’s a date.”

(Y/n) had to remind himself to thank Tendou later.

——————

Lowkey this was so fun to write~ why don’t y’all leave some love in the comments because of that~~?

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays In Existentialism: Nerd 13

Previously on Nerd

“One more time,” Lexa called out, walking backwards to the other end of the lane, her sneakers kicking up some dust as she moved and watched the playback on her phone. 

“Your girlfriend is a little intense, eh?” Evan asked as he followed Clarke back to the start of their scene. 

Clarke looked up and wiped a little sweat from her brow as she watched Lexa move with Luna, talking about something, watching her phone while Luna juggled a camera and a script that’d seen better days. The messy waves were tamed, tied up and hidden by a baseball hat from her sister’s university, well-tattered and sweat-lined. The sleeves on her shirt were rolled up, exposing a slight bit of bicep, her jeans were caked in dirt and mud. 

“She’s hot though, right?” 

“I’m not answering that.” 

“I’ll allow you to answer it just this once.” 

“In a weird way, yeah, I guess,” he shrugged. “Ow! What the fuck?” 

“She’s super hot in a normal way,” Clarke informed him after socking his arm. 

“I meant like, I never considered it. Like, weird in a way I hadn’t considered. I’d prefer not to think of her like that, but you made me.” 

“Good, and you’ll never think of her like that ever again.” 

“Let’s give it one more go, and this time, Evan, I want you to pause before you answer Clarke. I want her words to ring for a moment. Play it how you think your character would feel it. Just for fun.” 

He nodded and Clarke smiled at how serious Lexa was, how intricately she thought about the scene. They’d been at it for three weeks and were nearly finished, toiling away after school as best they could, and Clarke found that she didn’t think she was the world’s greatest actress, but that she did enjoy seeing her girlfriend doing something she was insanely passionate about. There’s a bit of magic in seeing someone happy about something they enjoy. As silly as it might have seemed, Clarke let her imagination wonder to the idea of Lexa actually achieving her dream, of making things. She jumped twenty years, and Lexa was the exact same person, but different, but better, somehow. It was silly, but it helped. 

“Notes for me, sir?” she ventured. 

“You’re perfect. Keep being perfect.” 

As silly as it was again, Clarke smiled proudly and ignored the eye roll Luna gave before setting up with the camera again. 

In reality, it was about six more takes, two more requested by Luna, three requested by Evan, and once by Clarke. It was infectious to care and try to do better. But they were finally done with all else, and the end somehow felt so final. Though she’d been hesitant to try, now that they’d created something, Clarke felt connected to the entire thing. 

“So when will I get to see the entire thing?” Clarke asked, carefully dropping a bag of equipment on Lexa’s bedroom floor. 

“Oh, uh, maybe at the end of the summer? It’ll go through a ton of work with Luna and myself, and I’m not sure what we’re going to do… I will definitely show you though as soon as it is done.” 

“I’d hope so.”

“Thank you for helping me with this,” Lexa offered as she ran her hand over the back of her neck. “I know you are really busy. SAT, work, school, pep squad.” 

“And you’re not?” 

“Well, yeah, but I chose this, and you were recruited,” she shrugged. 

With a sigh, Lexa plopped onto her bed, tired and spent from the busy weekend. 

“You can recruit me anytime,” Clarke promised. 

In a move that was still somewhat new to Lexa, hips circled her own, and knees gripped her thighs, and that led to a lot of feelings in her body, especially in the below the belt part that she hadn’t particularly figured out in the practical sense. Theoretically she knew exactly what was happening. 

Without saying anything else, Clarke removed her girlfriend’s ball cap and tossed it on the bed. Lexa held her hips, ran her hands up her thighs and squeezed there, careful not to move her eyes anywhere but Clarke’s face. But they closed on their own when hands ran along her temples, scratching the sweat and soreness away, melting her instantly. 

There’d been a truce ever since the dance. There’d been a few make outs that went slightly past polite. There’d been a few time hands wandered lazily where they might not have been allowed, but didn’t care about no trespassing signs. There hadn’t been Clarke in her lap though, and Lexa knew this was different. She made it different when her hands slid around hips and toward Clarke’s ass. She squeezed and she thought she’d died. 

By the time Clarke kissed her, Lexa realized she was on her back in her bed with the head cheerleader on top of her. When hips pushed against her, she realized she was going to stop. Hands went to her chest. Hands slid under her shirt. Hands slid under her bra and she pushed back against being pinned. 

It all disappeared in a second, and confused at the loss of lips and contact, Lexa opened her eyes and searched. Clarke sat there, hands braced on her stomach until she lifted her own shirt and tossed it on the floor. Scrambling, Lexa lifted herself, tangling her arms in an attempt at solidarity in taking clothes off only to be aided by an amused girlfriend. 

“Wow,” she whispered, taking her time to look over new skin before her. She kept her hands locked on Clarke’s hips despite wanting to move them. She let her eyes roam shamelessly. “You’re like… wow.” 

“Is this okay?” 

“Very okay.” 

“Thank God,” Clarke nodded before leaning back down, cupping Lexa’s face, and kissing her again, fiercer this time, if it were possible. 

Hips moved more this time. Breathing picked up more. Hands pulled, tugged, grasped tighter. They clawed at each other and at more, at what their bodies already knew how to do but their brains overthought and tempered. It was a battle of want and need and restraint, and in it, they both knew which was losing. 

In a shaky attempt, Lexa somehow unhooked Clarke’s bra. And in an instant her girlfriend was topless on top of her, and now her lower half was absolutely made of lava. It was painfully molten. 

“Oh… my…. Goodness,” she hummed. 

Clarke pressed her hands harder against Lexa’s ribs and rotated her hips. Lexa slid her hands up Clarke’s chest and squeezed. She watched her hands moved and touch and feel. She was touching someone else’s nipples for the first time ever, which was a weird thing to be cognizant of, but something that she never imagined desiring. But she did. And she wanted to memorize it entirely. She earned a hum and she pushed her hips up, in an off-kilter response to Clarke’s hips. 

“Hey Lex, you home, sweetheart?” a voice called out from down the hall. 

The spell was broken. The frantic, hot buildup was drenched in freezing cold water. The skin on display was covered with shirts as quickly as possible and the contact of bodies was broken with as much space as humanely possible placed between them. 

“Yeah, uh,” Lexa cleared her throat and tucked in her shirt for some reason as she stood, her legs wobbly and her head not much more sturdy. “Just got home.” 

“Your mom is bringing home dinner. She got sandwiches from the deli.” 

“Sounds good!” 

“Want to work on your car?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Sounds good, kiddo. I’m just going to go change.” 

Her father’s voice faded as he moved toward his room. Lexa leaned against her door and looked back at Clarke in her room. The blonde just pushed her hair out of her face and tried to adjust her shirt, tugging her bra slightly from the quick reassembly of her parts. Her lips were puffy. Her cheeks were bright red. She was perfect, Lexa realized. 

Lexa cleared her throat again and redid her pony tail. 

“So that was--”

“Really good,” Clarke finished. “Maybe we should… it’s good your dad-- we should talk about this, right?” 

“Um, yeah, I think.”

“Not right now though.” 

“Of course, yeah,” Lexa nodded, unsure exactly what was going to be discussed and even worse when it would be. She needed more context clues because too much had just occurred, and she was a specifics type of girl. 

“I should head home. I have to finish some physics homework and take a cold shower.” 

“Right, yeah. It was hot out there today and I kept you out in the sun.” 

“Okay, we definitely are going to have to have some conversations.” 

“Am I in trouble?” Lexa asked, cocking her head as Clarke picked up her backpack and shouldered it, making her way to the door. 

“Not at all. I just want to be able to talk about sex with you before we do it because I imagine you might need it, and to be honest I’m not sure how much longer I can survive how sexy you are.” 

Sex. Clarke wanted sex. They had almost, Lexa imagined. And Clarke was talking about sex with her and wanted to talk about sex with her and wanted to have sex with her and talk about the having of sex with her and they were going to have sex. Having sex was an option that they were going to talk because they were going to have sex and they should talk about it. It was going to be a thing that was discussed between the two of them because sex was going to happen and it might have almost happened and they should talk about the sex that almost and might also in the future happen. Sex. 

“I’m kidding,” Clarke assured Lexa, pressing her hand to the center of her chest and bringing her back from the place she just died and went to. “I can wait however long we need to, but I think we should talk about it so something like this doesn’t happen and we don’t have a clear line drawn or not drawn. Think about where your line is, I guess and then we can talk about it.”

“Okay.” 

Clarke kissed Lexa’s cheek and then her jaw and then her neck and then her lips. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Mhm. Yes. Me okay. I’m okay. Always ok.” 

“Did I melt your brain with the mention of sex?” Clarke smiled. 

“Yeah, kind of.” 

“No rush, I promise. Just like to be prepared.” 

“Like a boy scout.” 

“Don’t stress. I like you.” 

“Mmm,” Lexa nodded and tried to make her eyes not be completely huge, tried to make her heart stop throbbing in her pants and ears, tried to make her brain not explode or melt. 

“I’ll talk to you later. Have fun with your dad.” 

“Mmm,” she hummed and nodded as Clarke moved past her toward the door. “See you tomorrow.” 

In an instant, Clarke was gone, and Lexa looked down at her hands. They’d been on Clarke’s naked boobs. She looked at her hips. They’d been on Clarke’s thighs. She looked at her bed and how surprised she was that her body just did some of the things it did. She wasn’t sure what else it was capable of, but she decided she might need to do research. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“I need to talk to you about two things.” 

“Hey, I’m good, thanks for asking. Just cramming for some finals, but yeah I definitely have time to help you out.”

“Okay, good,” Lexa nodded to herself as she paced through the garage, twisting a wrench around as she moved, twirling it around her fingers. It all happened quite seriously as she surveyed the car as it was coming to life. 

The house was empty, her parents out on a date. Luna was coming over shortly to work on some of their film, but Lexa had a few things she wanted to get done on her car. More than anything though, she needed to speak with her sister desperately regarding many things in her life. 

“How have you been, Lex?” 

“Pretty good.” 

“Anything planned for the summer yet?” 

“I have an internship with a film crew that’ll be in town for a few weeks. My history teacher’s old college roommate is first camera. Some movie of the week thing for the holidays.” 

“Wow! Lex, that’s huge!” 

“I guess. But I need to know about sex. Sex with another girl. You’re in college. Have you had sex with another girl?”

Anya choked on her sip of coffee as she stopped walking down the sidewalk. She nearly dropped part of her armload of books, but managed to get a grip at the last moment. 

“Sorry to disappoint, but I haven’t.” 

“I tried to ask Gus but he said he couldn’t talk to me about it, and I just need someone to tell me what to do because I’ve run out of online resources short of porn and to be honest I looked a few and I didn’t like it.” 

“Lots of information to unpack in this…” 

“What do I do or who do I talk to?” 

“Just give me a second, okay?”

With a sign, Lexa sat the phone down on the edge of the car and went about the tough work of running some wires through the rear panel. If she was doing something with her hand, then she didn’t have to repeat the word sex nine hundred times per minute in her brain. 

“You and Clarke are talking about having sex?” 

“We’re talking about talking about it.” 

“How long have you been dating?” 

“Um since beginning of November. Almost six months.” 

“Do you love her?” 

“I don’t know. I mean…” Lexa paused her movements and furrowed. She hadn’t thought of it like that. It seemed almost insane to quantify her feelings into one word. She was excited to always see Clarke, and when she had a bad day, Clarke was the only person she really wanted to see, and when she did, the bad day just melted away. How was she supposed to figure out if it was love when she couldn’t compare it to anything else? She got butterflies still, when she saw her girlfriend. And Lexa felt this weird need to do things for Clarke, without being asked. She was helpful and attentive because the payoff of Clarke’s smile was worth even a few minutes of forethought. But she hadn’t considered that love, but maybe it was. 

“I really don’t know. I like her a lot. I like how we are” 

“That’s fair. I guess I should rephrase it. What makes you think you’re ready to have sex?” 

“I really want to.” 

“Okay, yeah, well everyone really wants to have sex, but what makes you think you’re ready? Can you confidently say where your boundaries are? Are you ready to have a much more intimate relationship with someone?”

“I was kind of just looking for more help in the mechanics of it.” 

“That’s the easy part,” Anya smiled to herself as she took another sip of her coffee. The weather was changing, the spring breeze ruffled the trees so they loudly clamoured above as she moved with the crowd along the narrow sidewalk. “There’s a certain level of intimacy in having sex with someone, especially someone you really like. I’m not saying it’s good or bad, but it’s certainly different. Do you think you’re ready to do that?” 

“I think so,” Lexa murmured after a moment of contemplation. She tapped a screwdriver against her thigh and stared at a single screw. “I really want to make her feel good and I know that sounds stupid, but I just… Sometimes it’s easier to want to kiss her than tell her exactly what I feel. I want to show her.” 

“I can see how that would work. Just so long  as you take a good bit of time and really consider it. And remember, even if you agree, you can change your mind at any time.” 

“Ugh, not you too! Dad’s already given me a billion consent talks. I just want to go down on Clarke without making a fool of myself.” 

Anya couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the outburst, but she somehow managed to hold her phone away from her mouth as she did. It took her a moment to recover. 

“Just do what you like and listen to her. Ask her what she enjoys. Be receptive to how she sounds and moves. It’s really not that hard. Just give it your all.” 

“This is all fine advice, but I still don’t know how to actually do it.” 

“You’ll figure it out.” 

“I don’t like leaving it up to chance.”

“You’ll be fine, I promise. You care for Clarke and I think she’ll be able to show you a thing or two.” 

“What does that mean?” Lexa paused her movements and furrowed. 

“You’ll see.” 

“I really don’t like the sound of that.” 

“You will, I promise.” 

“Are you coming home this summer?” 

“I might. So, sex with your girlfriend, huh?” 

“Maybe. Is it weird that I just… I want everything to keep going how it has been? It’s been so easy and nice and I didn’t think dating Clarke would be so … so… easy?”

“That’s not weird at all. It sounds like you are having a good time.” 

“I’m going to ask her to go to prom.” 

“Wow,” Anya smiled to herself, doing her best to sound surprised by the news, as if it wasn’t customary to take once’s girlfriend to prom. “Are you going to do a big ask?” 

“Nah, I don’t think that’s me,” Lexa shrugged, even though no one would see it. “And I don’t think it’s Clarke. She’s not like… she’s not like what I would have thought. She’s better.” 

“You’ve got it bad.” 

“Nah.” 

It was nice to talk to her sister. It was nice to be put at ease, even if she just heard a bunch of stuff she already knew. Lexa wasn’t sure how it came to be that she was someone who talked to her sister every few days and actually filled her in on her life. She wasn’t sure how she enjoyed spending Saturday morning with her parents going on a hike or breakfast. She wasn’t sure how it came to be that the head cheerleader was soft and quiet and warm and made her feel like she was full of helium, but it was all happening, and Lexa felt herself open up to the world again without ever realizing she had been closed. 

XXXXXXXXXX

For an entire seventy-two hours, Lexa let it all rattle around in her head, the words and the ideas and the thought of it all. All at once it felt like she didn’t know what came next while also incredibly knowing and that held her stuck. She hadn’t thought to ask for more, and she wasn’t sure how to have it. She knew that it was important, and she knew that was a different step than the ones she’d already taken. 

Nothing seemed to change with Clarke though. 

Lexa still held her girlfriend’s hand between classes, and they still hung out and texted and kissed and no one said anything despite Lexa taking her sister’s advice to really think about what it all meant. 

She didn’t know what it meant. Not truly. 

“That’s it. I quit. My brain is melting out of my ears.”

With an exaggerated flourish, the body on the bed flopped over and tossed a notebook onto the floor. Eyes rolled back before a tongue hung out and Lexa smiled from her spot at her desk. The music played softly from the speaker on the bookshelf. It was already dark outside as they worked on studying, but the lights reflected so that outside didn’t exist at all. 

“Your brain isn’t melting. It’s just growing and growing and will soon explode.” 

“I think I prefer the melting,” Clarke sighed. 

Lexa smiled to herself because there was the head cheerleader laying in her bed. And Clarke was wearing her old soccer sweatshirt and she was tired from after work, but still stopped by before heading home just for a few hours of studying. 

“Would you like to go to prom with me?” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah you,” Lexa decided, cocking her head slightly. The corpse in her room rolled over again and lifted her head. “With me.” 

“Was it the melting brain thing that really sold you?” 

“I just like how you look in my bed.” 

“Your bed is very comfortable.” 

“I thought about the sex thing and I don’t know if I’m ready right now, or by prom or whatever, but I want to just keep doing things slowly if that’s okay?” 

Clarke sat up so she was kneeling on the bed. She’d already rolled the sleeves of the sweatshirt that hung a little long on her. There was a hole over the letter on the left part of her chest. Her hair was falling out of a messy bun, and her cheeks had their dimples in them. Lexa took a moment to remember it. 

“That’s fine by me.” 

“It is?” 

“I like how fluid everything is with you. I just wanted you to be aware of what you were feeling and what your limits were.” 

“I don’t know them right now, but I’ll know them as things happen, if that’s okay.” 

“Very okay.” 

“Do you want to go to prom with me?” 

“Didn’t I already say yes?” 

“No.” 

“Well then, yes.” 

“Cool,” Lexa grinned, holding her chin on her palm. 

Clarke relaxed slightly and smiled back. 

“Cool.” 

NEXT

[trulymadlysydney]

Somewhere In Time: Eight

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.”

-Henry David Thoreau

Previous Chapters HERE

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

1:38pm, January 6th, 1925

Roni finds herself much more confident as she wanders the streets today.  She’s got the wad of Harry’s cash in her pocket that he’d left on the dining room table for her-- along with a note that told her to spend it on something delicious for dinner.  She isn’t exactly sure where the supermarket is, but somehow she doesn’t have any sort of problem asking for directions now.

The tension between her and Harry had subsided by the morning.  Something about the rest of the night following their confessions of how they felt for one another felt too intimate-- too fragile to be spoiled with any other words.  And that had been fine by Roni; she had already been feeling vulnerable and was worried that even the smallest thing would send her rocketing into the moon with embarrassment.  Harry had seemed to be on the same page as her, and the only communication between the two for the next few minutes had been soft kisses-- expressing everything they’d wanted to say without words.

They’d fallen asleep holding one another, and Harry had woken Roni with a soft kiss this morning before slipping off to work.  The dynamic between them feels different now in the best kind of way, but somehow Roni can’t seem to shake the vulnerability she feels.

The afternoon air feels colder than usual, and looking back Roni realizes she should have snagged one of Harry’s coats from his bedroom closet before she’d left.  She settles instead for wrapping her soft coverup a bit tighter around her shoulders and shoving her icy hands into the pockets, putting a bit more pep into her step as she walks against the wind.

The supermarket isn’t very difficult to find, and Roni is delighted in herself after only having to ask one woman for directions.  The building is much bigger than she’d anticipated and she feels only slightly overwhelmed upon entering. She picks up a small basket and scans the aisles for a place to start.

Harry had only requested “something delicious” for dinner, but he hadn’t specified what he enjoyed-- which, up until now, Roni hadn’t seen as a problem.  Admittedly, she hadn’t given much thought to the situation, and now that she’s faced with seemingly endless aisles, she’s hit with the realization that she can’t just microwave something and call it a day.

She doesn’t have too much trouble getting a few things into her basket, and she begins to form a general idea of something delicious she can make for the two of them to share. She wants to make sure the evening is romantic, so she splurges a bit and buys a few new candles to light and place in the middle of their table.  

It’s when Roni finds herself debating between two different brands of milk that she suddenly gets the unshakeable feeling of being watched.

She grows instantly nervous, praying to God that it isn’t Howard again (or someone else who’s decided to be equally creepy).  She halts her movements, hoping that the feeling will pass.  When it doesn’t, however, she turns slowly on her heel to find where the feeling is coming from.

Roni is instantly relieved when she’s greeted by a small girl-- seemingly no older than about six. The little girl looks nervously up at Roni, as if she wants to say something but is too afraid, and Roni smiles warmly at her.

“Hi there,” she greets in the voice reserved mostly for children.

The little girl takes her bottom lip between her teeth as if contemplating if she fully wants to commit to talking to this stranger.  Roni offers her a gentle smile, trying to express to her that she isn’t going to hurt her, and the little girl softens a bit.  She points shyly at Roni’s hand.

“I like your ring, ma’am,” she says quietly.

“My ring?”  Roni glances down at her mood ring, and tries to hide the sudden jolt of panic down her spine when she realizes that mood rings haven’t yet been invented.  She smiles sweetly back at the child and decides that the best course of action would be to explain it to her.  “Thank you!! It’s called a mood ring.”

“A mood ring?”  The child speaks at a more normal volume now, and she takes a hesitant but curious step in Roni’s direction.  “What’s that?”

“Well,” Roni says slowly.  “You put it on, and it changes colors according to what you’re feeling.”

The little girl’s eyes stayed glued to the jewel on Roni’s finger, and she lets out a soft but astonished little gasp.  “Really?”

“M-hm!  Would you like to try it?”

Now the child’s eyes shoot up to meet Roni’s, and her smile deepens.  “May I, please?”

“Of course!”  Roni twists the ring off of her finger and hands it to the child, placing it in the center of her palm.  “It might be a little bit big for you, love.  Close your hand around it,” she closes her own hand and the child follows,  “and now hold it to your chest.  Like this.”  Roni demonstrates her words and the little girl mirrors her eagerly.  “There you go!”  Roni beams.  “Now we just wait for a couple of seconds.”

“How do you know what the colors mean?”

“I used to have a guide,” Roni explains.  “But then I memorized it and I didn’t need it anymore.”

“Wow,” the little girl breathes, looking down at her tiny first as if it contains all the secrets of the universe.  “Is this magic?”

Roni chuckles softly under her breath.  Because sure, it’s just a cheap stone that changes colors due to some type of reaction to temperatures or something of the sort.  (She’s never actually looked into it really.)  But she remembers being this little girl’s age.  She remembers the magic she thought was inside of the mood ring every time her mother wore it; the magic she believed her mother possessed.  She remembers how absolutely mind blowing this concept was to her, and thinks how incredible it must be to a child in 1925.

So she nods.  “It is,” she says quietly.  “But it only works if you believe in it with all of your heart.”

The little girl wastes no time in squeezing her eyes shut tight and Roni works to suppress the giggle threatening to bubble out as she watches her.  She takes this time to really look at the child, trying to identify the strange but familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach.  There’s something about this little girl, maybe she’s famous or she’s a child in one of the yellowing photographs on the book shop wall.  She’s got dirty blonde hair and a tiny nose, and Roni is almost certain she’s seen this child before, but she cannot put her finger on where.

Roni is completely lost in her thoughts when the little girl peeks one brown eye open and looks back at her.  “Is it done yet?”

Roni laughs, taking the child’s fist in her hand and tapping her fingers to signal her to open them up.  “I think you should be all set, let’s see what you got!”

Both the child and Roni peek at the stone in the little girl’s hand, trying to decipher if the color they see is purple or pink.  “I think it’s pink!” The little girl says excitedly.  “What does that mean?”

“Pink means you’re happy!”  Roni beams.  “Are you happy?”

When the child nods, her blond curls bounce.  “M-hm!  I want one of those rings for myself so I can show Linda at school!  Wouldn’t she be surprised?”

For a split second Roni considers offering the ring to the child.  As quickly as the thought comes, however, it is replaced with a mental slap to the face.  On what planet would she feel comfortable enough to give her mother’s ring to a stranger? And anyway, if she were to give it to her, what would happen to her timeline?  Mood rings aren’t invented yet and won't be invented for another fifty years or so.  So Roni laughs, albeit a bit uncomfortably, and nods.  “Oh I’m sure she would be, love! But you might have to wait until you’re a bit older.”

The little girl frowns.  “Why?”

And truthfully, Roni doesn’t have an answer.  Not any answer that would make any type of logical sense, anway.

“Well, it’s--”

“There you are!”  The sound of heels quickly approaching saves Roni from her current predicament, and Roni rises to her feet when she hears them.

A well dressed woman comes scurrying down the long aisle, dressed in a coat and heels and also looking strangely familiar.  She doesn’t even seem to notice Roni at all, her eyes are glued to the little girl and she seems both relieved and annoyed.

“How many times have I told you not to wander away from me?” she says as she approaches.  She takes the little girl’s hand in her own.  “You scared me half to death!”

The child nods up at Roni.  “But this nice lady was--”

The woman sighs, obviously frustrated, and cuts her off.  “You can’t go around talking to strangers like that.  I’m sure this nice lady is very busy, so you apologize for bothering her right now.”

“Oh it’s no problem!” Roni speaks up.  “Honestly. We had a lovely conversation.”

The little girl beams.  “M-hm! And she showed me her magic ring!”  She holds the ring up to her mother and Roni holds her breath, praying that this woman thinks nothing of the ring that has yet to be invented.

Luckily, the woman seems quite disinterested.  “Judy, darling, you give this nice lady her ring back at once.”

Roni’s blood instantly runs cold at the woman’s words.

Surely it can’t be…

The little girl, Judy, sighs defeatedly.  She doesn’t look up at Roni again, but she holds the ring out for Roni to take.  “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

Roni moves as if in slow motion, taking her ring back and placing it numbly back on her  finger.  She swallows thickly, looking from the little girl to her mother.  The girl’s mother makes eye contact with Roni for the first time in this entire interaction, and suddenly a strange look crosses her face as well.

Roni recalls a story that her grandmother had told her when she’d first started showing interest in time travel.

“To answer your first question,” she says,   “I don’t know what I believe.”  She gives Roni’s hand a squeeze before adding pointedly, “But, I know I met someone when I was a little girl.  She was… this beautiful woman with the kindest heart.  And she had a mood ring, similar to the one your mother wore. Those hadn’t been invented yet, which hadn’t occurred to me until I was several years older.  And she seemed…”  Judy trails off again, smiling to herself.  “Otherworldly.  I don’t know how to explain what I saw in her.  I don’t think I ever will.”

“Was it mom?”  Roni’s voice is hardly above a whisper, and Judy shakes her head.

“It definitely wasn’t your mother.  I don’t know who she was.  Just a stranger, I think.  But I could just tell that she knew something I didn’t.  I’ve always wondered what happened to her.  Where she came from.  Where she went.”

The way Judy’s mother looks at Roni is all the confirmation Roni needs.

She’s meeting her grandmother and her great grandmother, and they have no idea.  

“I’m--” the mother stammers,  “I’m so sorry, darling, what is your name?  You look awfully familiar.”

Roni clears her throat, trying to cover how nervous she is. “Veronica,” she says.  “Veronica…. Styles.”  

It’s the first name she can think of, and she fears (most likely irrationally) that if she reveals her true last name, something in her timeline will shift.  So she sticks to her guns, hoping that she doesn’t seem suspicious.

The older woman blinks a few times, obviously trying to make sense of what she’s seeing.  There’s a long pause that feels like hours, and Roni’s face grows uncomfortably hot.  She doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath until the woman speaks.

“Forgive me for staring,” she says,  “it’s just that…”  She trails off, shaking her head.  

Roni blinks, forcing a stiff smile.  She wants to say something-- literally anything at all, but nothing is coming out.  The woman laughs in spite of herself.

“It can’t be,” she says, as if to herself.

Roni can’t help herself.  “What can’t be?”

“Oh, I apologize.  It’s just that… well, you look an awful lot like my sister Hazel.”

In spite of the tension, Roni can’t help but to laugh softly in disbelief.  Her entire life, her grandma Judy had told her that she looked like “Aunt Hazel.”  Hazel had died a few years before Roni was born, but even from the pictures Roni was shown, she knew the resemblance was uncanny.  Which is why this is all the proof she needs.

“Oh really?”  Roni smiles, trying to keep the conversation light and casual.  “Oh how very interesting.  Did you know that it was proven that there are roughly seven people in the entire world who look exactly like you?”

The woman blinks back at Roni, then laughs hesitantly.  “No, I’m afraid I hadn’t heard that.”

“Oh.”  There’s a brief pause, and then Roni laughs awkwardly.  “Well in any case, maybe I’m miss Hazel’s doppelganger!”

“Yes,” the woman says, still eyeing Roni with a nervous smile, as if completely unsure about her still.  “Well in any case, I’m so sorry that my Judy bothered you.”

“It was no trouble,” Roni says.  She turns down to Judy.  “It was very lovely chatting with you Judy!”

Judy smiles shyly up at Roni, and her mother nudges her.  “What do you say, dear?”

“It was nice to meet you, ma’am,” Judy mumbles.

The older woman finishes up the conversation and guides Judy away from Roni, not without glancing back over her shoulder a few times back at this bizarre girl with the bizarre ring who looks bizarrely like her sister.

Roni has to resist the urge to glance back as well, trying desperately not to make the situation any weirder than it is.  She can feel herself growing dizzy, and the moment that Judy and her mother are out of her sight, Roni grasps onto the shelf to balance herself.

This situation may just take the cake as far as surreal experiences over the past few days goes.  Roni had pictured this very story in her head many times, wondering what the “beautiful woman” her grandmother had described looked like.  The thought, however, was never actively at the front of her brain-- rather, it was tucked away in the corners of her mind.  And now to find out that it was, in fact, her this entire time, she feels faint.   She laughs in disbelief, shaking her head as she tries to process what just occurred.

Roni is brought from her thoughts when she hears somebody clear their throat.  She looks up to see a stern looking woman glancing expectantly at her, and realizes at the same time that she is blocking the canned soup.

Roni straightens up immediately, straightening out her dress.  “My apologies,” she mutters, scooping up her basket and making her way hurriedly out of the aisle.

----

It takes Roni about twenty more minutes to finish up her shopping, and as she heads out into the cold day she dreads the walk home; even though it isn’t far at all, she has tons of bags that are already leaving marks on her arm.  She takes a deep breath and blows it out in a puff of air that is visible in front of her before beginning her journey.

“Roni!”

Roni freezes in her tracks just as quickly as she began when she hears her name being called from behind her, and she prays that it isn’t another member of her family.  She turns slowly as she hears footsteps approaching her, and is relieved to find Daisy Hartford scurrying towards her.

Daisy seems out of breath when she reaches Roni  “Hello, dear! So nice to see you!”

She envelops Roni in a hug, and kisses her cheek, taking Roni by surprise.  Roni smiles warmly, strangely comforted by Daisy’s presence.  “Daisy! How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine, just fine!” Daisy speaks quickly and excitedly.  “Larry has taken over the shop today, so I was finally able to get out and complete some errands.  You know your Harry is such a quick learner, we basically cut his training short! And he’s in good hands with my Larry.  I stopped in for a bit this morning and the two were chatting like old pals! Isn’t that funny?  Harry and Larry?”

Roni giggles, her head practically whirling from how quickly Daisy is speaking and her heart full because of course Daisy and her husband have fallen under Harry’s spell. She nods.  “Harry is quite the hard worker,” she agrees.  “I’m awfully proud of him.”

“As you should be, honey!  And Larry and I just adore him.  We’ve been talking about having you both over for dinner sometime soon, in fact!”

Daisy’s words are a bitter reminder of how short Roni’s time here remains, and she has to swallow down the lump that begins to rise in her throat.  She laughs, brushing it off.  “Yes,” she says, “That would be lovely.”  Immediately an idea pops into her head that helps her both change the subject and calm some of her anxieties.

“Hey, speaking of dinner…”

“Yes, dear?”

Roni doesn’t know why this makes her so nervous to ask, but she knows she’ll be glad she did.  “Well, I’m fixing a chicken for dinner this evening, and--”

“Ooh!” Daisy squeals, clapping her hands together.  “I love a good chicken dinner!”

Roni smiles.  “So do I! But the trouble is, I’m not a very good cook.”  It isn’t exactly the truth, but for the life of her Roni cannot seem to figure out a better way to explain to Daisy that she doesn’t know how on earth to work many of the gadgets in these old fashioned kitchens.  She continues her speech.  “I’m not terrible, it’s just that… well, cooking these rather large meals for two has proved more difficult than I’d imagined.”

Daisy giggles.  “I know what you mean.  Before I married Larry, I had no earthly idea how to cook.  I had to buy dozens of cookbooks, and even then I would still ruin the meals sometimes! It just takes a bit of practice, my love.  I’ll let you borrow some books if you’d like!”

Roni shakes her head.  “No, no.  You keep your books.  I was just wondering if maybe you’d have any advice for me?  I never really get to do this sort of thing for Harry, so I’m trying to surprise him and make it special, you know?”

Daisy squeals again.  “Well darling, why didn’t you say so?  I just love surprises. Of course I’d be willing to help you!

Roni lets out a sigh of relief.  “Thanks, Daisy.  You’re an angel.”

“Oh it’s nothing, honey! Why don’t you come with me to my place?  I’ll write down one of my favorite recipes.”

“That would be lovely! I want to impress him, you know?”

Daisy nods enthusiastically.  “I know!” she giggles. “What are you going to wear?”

Blood rushes to Roni’s cheeks at Daisy’s words.  She only has two dresses, both of which Harry not only has seen her in but bought for her, and she suddenly feels self conscious.  “I… I was just thinking of wearing this.”

Daisy gasps dramatically, as if Roni has just told her something completely awful.  “Oh, honey, no!  I mean, not that you don’t look beautiful of course, but this sounds like a special occasion.  Haven’t you got anything more… I don’t know, vibrant?”

Roni knows that Daisy means no harm, but she can’t help but feel a little bit hurt.  Still, she giggles.  “I’m afraid not,” she says.  “When I moved in with Harry I…” she trails off, trying to come up with the perfect way to describe this. “I had to leave a lot of my clothes at home.  So, this is really all I’ve got.”

“Oh you poor dear.”  Daisy frowns, but it is quickly replaced by her bright smile before Roni can even take offense.  “Say, I’ve got an idea!  We seem to be about the same size, and have I got the perfect dress for you! The color will go so beautifully with your complexion.  I bought it for one of my first dates with Larry but I haven’t worn it since. Oh honey, you’ll look like an angel in it! It was made for you, I’m sure. Say yes?”

Roni smiles at Daisy’s generosity, but she does feel bad.  “Oh, I don’t want to put you out--”

“It’s no trouble!”  Daisy reaches for Roni’s hand, tugging a bit.  “Oh, you’ll look divine.  Like a dream! And I can do your hair for you if you’d like!  Harry will die when he sees you.  Simply die!”

Roni giggles to herself.  Truth be told, she does want to get all dressed up for Harry.  She knows he would be so surprised and pleased to see her dressed head to toe in an authentic dress that isn’t one that he bought for her.  Plus, her inner child is begging her to play dress up, just to see what she’s going to look like in the end.  It sounds fun, and Daisy seems far too enthusiastic for Roni to turn her down.

So she nods.  “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t, doll! But we’d better hurry, Harry gets off at 7!”

----

It doesn’t take long to get to Daisy’s house, and the interior of the small bungalow looks exactly how Roni would picture Daisy’s home to look.  It’s well decorated, with everything in its place-- and it smells floral.  The window sills are littered with plants, and the shelves with books.  One book lays open in the middle of the coffee table, which Daisy apologizes for.  “I always tell Larry to clean up after himself but… well, you know men.”

Daisy tells Roni to make herself at home while she puts her groceries away, and Roni marvels at the tiny kitchen.  She observes all the plates and dishes that would be considered antique in her day, and the cookbooks with recipes that she can hardly even read.  She stops when she notices the camera from the book shop sitting on a ledge, with a few black and white photographs scattered around it. Beside the mess, a large black pen sits— which Roni figures Daisy was using to date the photos.

Some of the photographs are of Daisy and Larry, smiling together and doing various things around the house. Some are pictures of patrons at the book shop. And then, a picture that makes Roni’s heart instantly skip a beat.

There’s the picture of Harry, standing in his little cap beside the pile of books, taken yesterday at the shop. The picture that Roni had looked at countless times in the future.  Now her favorite picture to ever exist.

She squints to see the date that Daisy had written on the bottom, and it makes her giggle.

“You got it wrong,” Roni says.

“Hm?” Daisy turns, only halfway listening as she busies herself with the groceries.

“The date. On this picture of Harry. You wrote 1924. It’s 1925.”

“Oh!” Daisy smacks her forehead, wincing at herself. “Silly me. I keep doing that! Can’t seem to remember that it’s the new year!” She drops the loaf of bread she’s currently holding onto the counter and makes her way over to Roni. “I’ll scratch it out and correct it now.”

“Wait!” Roni doesn’t mean to speak with such a sense of urgency, but when she does it takes both her and Daisy by surprise. Roni scrambles to think of an explanation— a way to put into words the fact that she’s always seen this photograph dated 1924, even in 1999. If something as simple as that changes now, she’s afraid of the domino effect that could potentially change other things as well.

So Roni laughs, almost uncomfortably, trying to brush off her sense of urgency.   “I just… feel like that would ruin the whole… aesthetic?... of the picture.   You know?”

Daisy’s face scrunches up.  “The what?”

Roni tries again.  ‘Well I mean, it’s just such a cute picture.  I think if you were to scratch out the date and rewrite it, it’ll make it look… well, sloppy.  Do you know what I mean?  I say just leave it.  No ones going to really notice.  If anything it just makes it look like Harry’s worked for you longer, you know?  Which isn’t a bad thing.  I feel like that’s actually a great thing.  For you and the company.”

She’s rambling.  She knows she’s rambling, but god she’s so nervous the more she thinks about this.  As little of a deal as it may seem, she really doesn’t feel like messing with the fabric of her future like this.  If the photograph is dated 1924 in 1999, then that must mean it was never corrected.  And that means--

Daisy giggles, taking Roni from her thoughts.  “My goodness,” she says.  “You’ve got it so bad for this boy, haven’t you?”

This takes Roni by surprise, but it’s a welcome change of subject.  “Is it that obvious?” She shrugs.

“Oh, darling.  I see the way you look at him.  And look at you now! You see one picture of him and you’ve gone all silly!”

Roni isn’t sure if she should take offense or not, and Daisy laughs again.  “It’s a good thing! Means you’re with the right man.  I get the same way around my honey.”

The heat radiating off of Roni’s cheeks is almost uncomfortable, and she giggles awkwardly.  Because Daisy does have a point. Daisy beams.  “See?  Look at you, just the mention of his name and you get as giggly as a school girl.  It’s adorable.”

“Yeah,” Roni says.  “I guess so.”

“But you are right, I suppose.”  Daisy nods her head.  “It would look sort of sloppy wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” Roni says, and Daisy nods again.

“Right.  Well, then, I suppose I’ll just have to leave it then, won’t I?  Sort of like a fun little secret for just us! Although it isn’t a very funny secret.”

“No,” Roni agrees, “it’s not.  But it’s like a hidden easter egg that only we know about!”

Daisy claps her hands together.  “Oh, Roni, I just love the way you think!”

Roni laughs, taking Daisy’s hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. As Daisy lets her residual giggles die down, she speaks.  “Now, don’t you think we ought to get started?  Not that we have a lot of work to do, what with your natural beauty and all.  But there is so much to teach you, in such little time!”

“Yes, I reckon we’d better get on with it.”  

Daisy needs no other encouragement, she’s already squealing and dragging Roni back into the kitchen, rambling on and on a mile a minute about everything they’re going to be doing.  “First we’ll get the recipe squared away.  Then I can do your hair, while you copy down the recipe with a pen.  Then we’ll dress you.  Oh I just can’t wait to see what you’ll look like!  And then--”

Half of Roni wonders what exactly she’s gotten herself into with this plan.  But Daisy seems so excited, and she knows that Harry will be, too.  So she allows herself to relax into the moment, still relieved that the fate of the universe (and the inaccurate date on the photograph) is safe for one more day.

---

It’s about 7:30pm when Roni finally hears Harry’s keys in the door, and the nervous feeling in the pit of Roni’s belly only intensifies.  After leaving Daisy’s, she’d spent the better half of her day cooking, setting up the apartment, and overthinking everything.  Daisy had given her all the tools she needed for success tonight, but something in her is causing her anxiety to completely spike.   The long candles on the table flicker vigorously, and the soft music of the victrola in the corner of the room echoes softly.  In the five seconds that it takes Harry to get his door unlocked, Roni’s thoughts run a mile a minute.

What if Harry thinks her outfit looks silly?  What if the meal tastes like garbage?  What if the house doesn’t smell good enough? What if--

Roni doesn’t have time to continue worrying when she sees the door open, and when Harry walks in, her heart rate increases.  

He looks cold, his nose red and shiny and his curls extra curly under his little cap.  He doesn’t seem to notice anything different at first, and he seems a bit winded as he locks the door behind him.  He begins removing his coat, turning on his heels and then stopping dead in his tracks when he sees Roni.

Roni smiles nervously back at him, looking like an absolute vision.  She’s in a pink silk dress that fits her perfectly, hugging her every curve in the exact right places.  The fabric shimmers in the dim light of the apartment, and the soft frills along the trim of the skirt make Harry’s heart skip a beat.  While Roni had hand copied Daisy’s favorite chicken recipe, Daisy had insisted on styling Roni’s hair (which Roni had happily agreed to), and now it looks so perfectly gelled and in place. In perfect 1920s fashion, it’s wavy at the top and curled at the bottom-- just ghosting against the top of her bare shoulders (both of which are just begging to be kissed).  Harry can tell she’s nervous and feels a bit out of place, but that makes her look all the more adorably beautiful, and he practically runs to her the moment he gets his coat off.  

Harry goes to hurriedly drape his coat on the coat rack, but he misses and it falls to the floor with a thud.  Roni giggles, and in a blink Harry has closed the space between them, kissing her smile and pulling her in by her hips.

Roni’s bubbly giggles die down as she kisses him back, but neither of them can contain their smiles.  Harry pulls away but doesn’t once remove his hands from her waist.  “Veronica,” he breathes.  “Bunny, what is this?”

“Do you like it?”  Roni steps back, taking the skirt of her dress in her hands and giving it a little swish.  “Do I look alright?”

“Baby,” Harry breathes, eyeing her up and down and taking his time with it.  “You’re a vision.”

Roni’s cheeks grow hot, and she giggles nervously.  “Never had my hair done this way before,” she admits.  “I thought it might look silly, but I actually kind of like it.”

“It suits you,” Harry says, nodding.  He’s beaming at her like she hung the moon, and it makes her giggle.

After a long beat of silence, Roni squirms under Harry’s gaze. “Why are you staring at me?” she pouts.

“Is that not what you want?” he replies, matter-of-factly.  His dimple pops, looking extra kissable, and Roni wants nothing more than to reach up and poke at it.

“Well--”

Harry steps forward, raising his hand to lightly trail his fingertips along the skin of her exposed arm.  He scratches lightly at the strap of the dress against her shoulder, smiling when he notices the goosebumps prickling her skin.  “Can’t believe you did all this for me.”  He leans forward, ghosting his lips along her neck.  “Why?”

“I just… wanted to do something special,” Roni says quietly, fidgeting softly with her ring and barely glancing up at Harry beneath her lashes.  “I don’t want to focus on like, the bad stuff.  I want to be happy right now while I’ve still got you.  Is that okay?”

Harry doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry so he settles on gripping Roni’s hips and pulling her impossibly closer for a long kiss.  She’s so lovely, and she looks and smells like an absolute dream.  When he pulls away, Harry buries his nose in the crook of her neck just to get a whiff of what smells so deliciously like Roni and some expensive perfume he’s never learned the name of.

“That sounds lovely, honey.”

She smiles at nothing in particular.  “Yeah?”

When he pulls away, he’s got a soft-eyed expression mixed with an overwhelmed smile on his face.  “Yeah.”

Roni frowns.  “Now don’t go all misty on me.  I’m serious.  The whole point of this was to not do that! To just pretend for like, one night that everything is okay.”

Harry chuckles, slipping a hand around Roni’s waist and pulling her closer again.  He presses a velvety kiss to the wrinkles on her forehead, and smiles when he feels them soften.  “I haven’t gone misty,” he says.   “Just… just lucky.  That’s all.”

Roni sighs, enjoying the feeling of his lips against her skin.  Something about all of this feels so strangely right; the clothes that she never thought would look good on her, the way her hair is done up with multiple pins practically stabbing her scalp, the gentle music from this era playing softly through the apartment.  She refuses to think about what’s coming in the next few days, and fully immerses herself in the daydream that she is, in fact, Harry’s wife.

She clears her throat, busying herself instead with the food in the kitchen. “I made us some chicken for tonight with some roasted vegetables! Although now that I think about it, I suppose I should’ve asked if you even liked chicken.  Which, if you don’t, that’s completely fine.  We can have something else.  But the veggies should be good!”

Harry laughs.  “Slow down, my sweet girl.  Why are you so nervous?”  He takes a step towards her.  “It’s just me.”

“I know,” she says softly.  “I just… want this to be perfect, you know?”

“Well,” he says,  “if it’s even half as good as it smells, then I’d say it’s more than perfect.”  He grins.  “Even if it’s not.  You’ve outdone yourself.”  

Roni smiles, obviously proud of herself.  “And!” she says, turning to flip the stove off. “Daisy taught me how to work the victrola.  It’s not as hard as it looks, but it did take me a minute to figure out.  It’s kind of intimidating.”

Harry doesn’t respond, he just watches her with the biggest, cheesiest smile on his face as she continues to ramble about her day.  He really doesn’t know why she seems so anxious about all of this, and he’s hardly listening to her as he admires how beautiful she looks.  The mere sight of her-- dressed like this, cooking for him, going out of her way to ensure that this is the perfect evening-- is enough to call tears to his eyes, and he has to refrain from thinking too hard about the situation lest they spill down his cheeks.

With oven mitts that are far too big for her hands, Roni removes the chicken from Harry’s humble stove, and Harry’s mouth waters at the sight of it.  “How did you--”

“Daisy,” she answers.  “She gave me the recipe.”  Roni looks at him with eyes the size of saucers.  “I hope it’s good.”

“Please,” Harry says, closing the space between them.  “Stop worrying.”  He leans in, kissing her nose softly before speaking again, just above a whisper.  “I love you.”

His words make Roni’s heart skip a beat. She’d nearly forgotten their love confessions from the previous night, and now hearing Harry say these words to her again makes her just as giddy as before.

“I love you, too,” she says, and Harry hums-- leaning in to kiss at her neck.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, too.” Roni giggles.

“One more time?  Didn’t quite catch that.”  He presses a kiss to the shell of her ear and she laughs loudly.

“I love you, you lunatic!” She squeals when Harry squeezes at her hips, pinning her to his body. “No!”

Harry laughs, freeing her finally but only enough to take her hand in his.  He twirls her under his arm, admiring the way her skirt swishes in the light.  “God,” he says, “this dress makes you look like a princess.”

“You mean I didn’t before?” She teases.

“No, no, you did, but this-- wow.”

It’s all so amusing to Roni.  He hadn’t thought much of the skimpy, futuristic dress she’d arrived in.  But this dress, one that exposes only her bare shoulders and nothing more, has him utterly gobsmacked, and she’s so endeared by it.

“I made sure to get one that showed a bit of skin.”  She pokes at his tummy.  “Know you’re into that sort of thing.”

Harry snorts.  “Please. You could wear a burlap sack and I’d be into it.”

“Oh yeah?” Roni wiggles her eyebrows.  “Kinky thing, aren’t you?”

This time, Harry’s face does twist up in confusion.  “Kinky?”

“You’ve never heard that word before?”

“No I have, I just… feel like I haven’t heard it… in the context that you just said it?  What does it mean?”

Roni grows a little bit self conscious, but she laughs in spite of herself.  “It means like… you’re into some crazy stuff in bed.  Like, you’re turned on by something other than just… vanilla stuff?  I guess?”  Harry stares blankly back at her, and her cheeks grow hot. “You knnoooow,” she tries again. “Kinky!”

“Are you kinky?” Harry asks, lips curling up into his signature dimpled smirk.

And shit, this is not the conversation she’d been expecting to have with Harry tonight.

Not that she’s complaining, of course.

“I mean…” She involuntarily swallows the lump in her throat, and it makes an almost choking noise.  Harry beams.  “Yeah.  Kinda.  Yeah.”

“Really?”  Harry leans casually against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.  “What sort of things do you enjoy?”

Roni averts her gaze, focusing on the cooling chicken on top of the stove.  She has an answer for him, of course, but she’s realizing that it’s much harder to put into words than she’d been anticipating.  At home with Oliver, they’d been together for so long that they sort of grew into their kinks together.  They learned what the other liked without ever having to really articulate it much.  But now, having to explain it, to have to put it into words for Harry while he’s grinning at her-- and looking like that-- makes Roni’s skin itch.

“Veronica.”  Harry softens a bit, but his dimple never leaves his cheek.  “You don’t have to tell me, bunny.”

And now she frowns.  “No, no! I want to.  I just… I don’t know, it’s weird. I’ve never had to like, communicate it before.”

“I see.”

Harry doesn’t say anything else, but he watches her with a look that is both simultaneously daunting and comforting.  Roni licks her lips and takes a deep breath.

“I’m into like… fairly normal kinky stuff, I guess.  Like nothing too wild.  But I like being--” her voice goes significantly quieter, “-teased… and… sometimes choked….”

Harry visibly tenses, but he remains as cool as possible-- his smirk only deepening.  “Choked, huh?  Never thought anyone could enjoy that.”

“It’s pretty common,” Roni explains quickly.  “Like, I swear people like it.  I’m not weird.”

“Never said you were weird.”  Harry’s eyes twinkle, and Roni becomes painfully aware of the heat that is radiating off of her cheeks.

“Um…” she continues again, still hesitant. “So yeah.  I like that.  And sometimes I like being… uh….” She practically whispers the last word.  “Spanked.”

Now, Harry does physically react.  He raises his eyebrows, and his bottom lip juts out as if impressed.  “Y’like being spanked huh?  Never knew anyone who enjoyed that either.”

“I mean, if you think it’s weird--”

“It’s not weird,” Harry insists, shaking his head.  “Believe me. It’s probably the least weird thing I could imagine.  Will you relax?”  He closes the space between them once again, taking her hand in his and bringing her knuckles up to his lipps.  “It’s probably one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard in my life, if I’m honest. And I don’t even understand why.”

Roni chuckles.  “That’s kind of the point, I think. No one really gets why.  But it’s like, taboo, you know?  And that’s the fun of it.”

“Mm.”  Harry grins.  “Anything else I should know about?”

Roni’s stomach twists at his words. “Um…”  She gulps.  “I mean…”  Her voice is so quiet that Harry has to lean in closer to hear her.  “I like being tied up.”

“Tied up?  Like… restrained while you’re being fucked?”

Roni turns her head to hide her embarrassment.  “I mean when you say it out loud it sounds kinda funky but--”

“No no!” Harry assures her.  “My god, bunny, no.  Are you joking?  M’getting hard just thinking about seeing you all tied up for me.”

“A boner before dinner?”  Roni teases, trying to lighten the situation to cover up her obvious nerves. “After I worked so hard?”

“That might be part of it actually,” Harry chuckles.  “A delicious meal made by a delicious girl who likes to be… what was the word? Kinky?”

Roni giggles.  “Kinky.  Yeah.”

Harry grins.  “Yeah.  Fucking love it.”

There’s a charged silence that lingers between the two of them, and Roni grows increasingly anxious (in the best sort of way).  She clears her throat.  “Anyway! Dinner is going to get cold, so we should probably--”

Harry cuts her off with a heated kiss directly to her still open mouth.  He’s smiling, and it makes Roni giggle, especially when he reaches up to cup her cheek.  When he pulls away, it's with a strained effort, and it makes him smile even more to realize Roni doesn’t want the kiss to end either.

“It smells delicious, bunny.”  

“I hope it is.”

“It will be.”  Harry grins.  “Shall I set the table?”

Roni beams.  “I already did, my love.  All you have to do is get comfortable and come join me.”

“Get comfortable?” Harry smirks.  “Y’mean I can come back naked?”

Roni squirms as she lets out a scoff to cover her embarrassment.  “What-EVER. No! That’s not what I meant.  Go put on some comfy clothes.”

“Well, you don’t look very comfy.”

“I am!”

“Are you?  Sure you wouldn’t be comfier naked?”

“Harry.”

Harry giggles like a little boy and dodges the towel that Roni snaps at his behind.  “Alright alright. I’ll be right back.”

“You better be, little shit.”

Harry scurries out of the room while Roni rolls her eyes and turns to the chicken on the stove.  She works her hardest to prepare it, trying not to allow her thoughts to linger on the way he looked in his work clothes-- his cute little cap hanging sideways on his head, parallel with the smirk on his cheeks.  

Roni serves up their plates, lighting a few more candles around the room and setting everything on the table perfectly. She tries to contain her joy when Harry re-enters the room.  He licks his lips the moment he sees his plate on the table, and he beams at her.  “Looks delicious, Veronica.  You and the meal.”

Roni smiles as she sets her drink down beside her own plate.  “Yeah?”

Harry grins, pulling her seat out. “Yeah.”

Roni giggles, wasting no time in settling herself into the seat.  “You’re so cute, Harry.  Fuck.”

This makes Harry snort as he helps Roni push her seat into the table. “That’s all you, princess.”

Roni grows visibly embarrassed, which only causes Harry’s smirk to deepen and his dimple to pop even harder. “Like that, don’t you?  ‘Princess.’”

“It’s just cute, is all.  Never been called that before.”

“Well,” Harry says, taking his own seat, “It suits you.”

Roni squirms in her seat, and Harry jokingly fluffs out his napkin.  He juts out his bottom lip in a smug grin, tucking the napkin into his shirt collar and causing Roni to laugh.  

“So formal,” she comments.

“Seems fitting.  Would you like me to tuck yours in for you as well?”

The connotations behind his words do not go unnoticed by Roni, and he beams, causing her to roll her eyes.

“Anyway,” she says, embarrassment prickling her ears, “Bon appetit.”

Harry moans the moment he shovels the first fork-full of chicken into his mouth, despite Roni’s warnings that it’s going to be hot and he needs to blow on it.  He’s making obscene noises as he chews, and whether it’s for dramatic affect or not, Roni isn’t sure. In any case, though, it does wonders for her ego the way he’s rolling his eyes and licking his lips.

“Veronica.” Harry speaks before swallowing.  “Baby.  You’ve outdone yourself.”

Roni grins, realizing that she still hasn’t even taken a bite because she’s been too busy blowing on the chicken and eyeing Harry anxiously. “Yeah?”

Harry swallows.  “My god,” he says, not a trace of over exaggeration on his pretty face.  “I couldn’t tell you the last time I had a meal this delicious.”

“I’m so glad!” It touches Roni’s heart and also kind of makes her sad. This meal really isn’t anything out of the ordinary, and she realizes that he’s so happy because she made it.  He’s lived alone for years, and she knows he’s hardly (if at all) been loved like this.  He’s only had to take care of himself, and she wonders if he’s ever had someone in his life to care for him like this.

“I mean it,”  Harry says.  “I could cry.  Never tasted anything this good in my life.’

Now Roni giggles. “It’s just chicken, my love.”

“No, you must’ve put something special in it.  Extra love or something, I don’t know.  I don’t know what you did, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever had.”

Roni’s curiosity gets the best of her.  “Harry?”

“Mm?”  He hums around another mouthful.

“Have you never had… a woman in your life?”

Harry snorts at her question, but he slows his chewing for a brief moment, considering her words.  He doesn’t seem to take offense, which is a relief.  He thinks about his answer as he chews, waiting to speak once he’s swallowed. “I have.  Sort of.”

“Yeah?”

“Had a girlfriend a few years back.  She was older.  We didn’t date for very long.  She would’ve never done anything like what you’ve done for me tonight.”

Roni grins.  “What, make you dinner?”

“Well, that, but also…”  Harry gestures vaguely towards Roni.  “This.  What you’ve done with your hair.  And the dress.  You’re so thoughtful. She never was.”

Roni reaches forward, placing her hand lightly on Harry’s arm.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright!”  Any trace of sadness on Harry’s face is immediately wiped clean and replaced with a smile.  “Worked out anyway.  She cheated on me.  Twice.  So.  Obviously she wasn’t very happy either.”  He chuckles, preparing his next bite already.

Roni only frowns.  “That’s awful, Harry.”

“Was pretty awful, yeah.  But I’m glad now.  Taught me a lot, you know?”  He smiles at her.  “Just glad I have you now.”

“Yeah,” Roni says quietly.  “Me too.”

The rest of the dinner is just as lovely as the start, and Roni does have to admit that she did a pretty damn good job with the food.  Harry talks about his day at work while continuously complimenting Roni’s cooking, and he also listens-- completely intrigued-- when she mentions the little girl at the grocery store.

“No kidding,” Harry says.  “You really think it was your grandma?”

Roni nods.  “I do. I know it was her, because I grew up hearing the story of the lady in the grocery store.”

Harry grins. “Sick!”

His words make Roni giggle. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

Harry’s cheeks go the lightest shade of crimson at her words, but he takes it in stride. “Can’t help it,” he admits. Your futuristic verbiage inspires me.”

After dinner, Harry refuses to allow Roni to touch a single dish. He washes them in the kitchen sink, jokingly shoving Roni out of the way every time she tries to help.

“You worked so hard on dinner,” he insists. “If you so much as look at these dishes one more time, I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” Roni challenges, with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “You won’t do anything. You looooove me too much.”

Her teases are childish but they make both of them giggle. Harry doesn’t say anything, instead just dipping his hand into the soapy water and flicking some suds onto her.  Roni shrieks, and Harry grins. “I do love you,” he says, before she can get a word in. “Too much.”

Roni busies herself with picking another record to play while Harry finishes up the dishes, and she tries to keep her questions to a minimum. She’d had no issues with this earlier, why is she struggling with it now?

Although, to be fair, it had been fresh in her mind earlier. Now all of her thoughts are clouded with Harry and how absolutely delicious he looks right now.

Harry, of course, sees her struggling.  But he knows how stubborn she is, and he knows that if she wanted help she would ask for it.  So he just chuckles quietly to himself as she tries to figure it out, and he grins when he hears her let out a triumphant “A-HA!”

After a few more seconds,  the song whirs to life.    Harry recognizes it almost instantly, and he lets out a cackle.  “Veronica--”

Roni is swaying her hips, bopping around the living room while I’m Just Wild About Harry fills the silence.  Harry watches her dance with an amused expression, and she laughs, singing along to a few of the words.  “It’s a good song, huh?” she asks.  “Never heard it until today. Daisy showed me.  She actually lent it to me so I could do this.  Neat, huh?  How like, accurate to our situation it is and stuff.”

Harry shuts off the water in the sink, drying his hands before making his way slowly into the living room.  He takes Roni’s wiggling hips in his hands, and laughs when she doesn’t stop dancing.  “This is my song to you,” she states. “I’m just wild about you, lover boy.”

Harry giggles, swaying a bit with her as well. “Well,” he says,  “The feeling is mutual.”  

Roni continues to bop around the living room, with Harry only half heartedly dancing with her.  He watches her intently the entire time, and his stare makes her almost nervous.  She tries to stay as playful as possible, but the way he’s smirking at her makes her giggly and excited. Finally, she groans.  “Whaaaaaat?”

Harry throws back his head and laughs, taking her hips in his hands once again.  “Just love you,” he admits, kissing her forehead.  “Can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“You’re staring at me like a weirdo,” Roni points out, and the smile on her face lets him know that she isn’t upset about it in the least.

“Can’t help it,” he says.  “Have you seen yourself?”

“You’re one to talk!” Roni hip checks him and he snorts.  “Anyway, you’re being very rude not participating in this dance with me.”

“I’m dancing!” Harry insists.

“Yeah, but not enough! You know, if there was a song that was like I’m Just Wild About Roni or something, I’d be shaking my little ass all over this house.”

Harry chokes on a laugh, and Roni immediately kisses against his open mouth. “Come onnnn,” she giggles, “You’ve gotta get into it!”

Harry watches her, an amused smirk on his face, and she turns it into a game. She wiggles her hips tauntingly, moving closer to him and then backing away when he reaches for her.  It makes him chuckle, but he holds on to his facade as long as possible.  “If you keep moving like that, I’ll cum untouched,” he teases.

“What, like this?”  Roni wiggles ungracefully, and Harry laughs. He can’t stop himself from launching forward now.  He takes her hips in his hands, squeezing and yanking her towards him-- causing her to squeal.

“Harry!” she giggles, stumbling into his arms.  “Fuck!”

He laughs heartily as he steadies her, wrapping his arms around her and successfully trapping her against his body.  She squirms in a half-hearted attempt to escape, but he holds her steadfast, kissing her temple a few times until both of their giggles settle down.

When the aftershocks of Roni’s giggles have subsided into soft hums of contentment, she lifts her head to smile at Harry.  The way he’s looking down at her causes him to get the most adorable double chin, and she noses at it softly. He squeezes her tighter, pulling her in to button their lips together.

The kiss grows more intense with each second that passes, and Harry’s thoughts begin to run wild.  With a gentle touch, he trails his fingertips slowly up Roni’s back, testing the waters by gripping the back of her neck firmly.  He feels her stiffen only slightly, her breath hitching softly in her throat before she relaxes into his grasp.   She lets out a barely-there groan when he squeezes, and he knows he’s got her.

“Can I tell you something?” Harry breathes, using his other hand to squeeze teasingly at her ass.

“Hm?”

“I couldn’t want you any more than I do tonight.”

He can feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks, but he doesn’t even give her a chance to respond before he’s gripping her neck tighter, gently guiding her backwards a bit. They stumble awkwardly through the living room together, never once breaking the kiss.

Roni giggles, and even Harry can’t help but to smile, when their teeth knock together-- making a noise that echoes somewhat uncomfortably.  It’s then that Harry notices the song has come to an end, and he gets an idea.

He pulls away slowly, heart melting when he sees Roni lean in for another kiss before realizing he’s stopped.  She looks up at him with doe eyes, and he almost forgets what he was even going to say.

“Got an idea,” he says.  “Going to set the mood.”

“The mood is already set, baby,” Roni insists, but Harry is already moving.  He’s hurrying over to his records, thumbing through them haphazardly until he lets out a quiet-- but triumphant-- “Ah! There it is.”

Roni, growing impatient and almost uncomfortably wet, tries to catch a glimpse of the music he holds in his hands, but it’s no use.  So she lets out an indignant huff that causes Harry to smirk.

“Patience, pretty baby,” he coos. “You’ll get yours soon enough.”

Something about the tone with which he presents these words to her causes Roni to shiver, and she doesn’t even mean to moan the way she does-- light and airy and almost pornographic sounding (but in a sweet way).  The moan doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, because of course it doesn’t, and he chuckles to himself just out of her earshot.

“Can’t make love to my girl without a good song playing.”

“Can’t you, though?” Roni teases, and Harry shoots her a cheeky glance over his shoulder before busying to work switching out the records.

“Well, I mean, I could,” he says, “but what’s the fun in that? Besides…”  He drops the needle in place, turning around with a smirk as the slow, sexy song begins.  “...Gonna need something to drown out her screams from how good m’making her feel.”

Roni giggles nervously— not because what he said was funny, but because she knows he’s right, and the anticipation mixed with the thick tension charging the air is making her tummy twist.

Harry turns slowly on his heel, a mischievous grin on his face as if he’s about to pounce on her. Roni takes a cautious step backwards and Harry confirms her suspicions, bounding for her and immediately devouring her in kisses.

It starts out playful, but the kisses soon grow hungrier and hungrier— and then suddenly they’re groping at one another like two horny teenagers left unsupervised for the first time.  Roni haphazardly tugs at the buttons of Harry’s shirt while he uses his hands to guide them both awkwardly towards the sofa without opening his eyes or removing his lips from hers.

There is a gentle bump when the back of Roni’s legs hit the sofa, and Harry gently turns them both around. He plops ungracefully onto the couch, large ringed fingers on either side of Roni’s hips as he tugs her onto his lap. She complies with little persuasion needed, straddling his waist and cupping the back of his neck with her hands.   Her thumbs brush against the untamable curls at the base, and he shivers ever so softly when she purposely scratches.  All the while their lips never separate, and as Harry licks his way into her mouth, Roni leans impossibly closer to him.

His fingers squeeze the fleshier part of her hips before ducking lower to the curve of her ass, cupping it gently beneath his palms.  He pulls away only slightly when he speaks.  “Jesus, Veronica.”

“Is this okay?”  Roni bumps her nose playfully against Harry’s and he chuckles.

“‘Course it is.  Just never seen anyone so perfect.  Think you were made for me.”

“Think so, too,” Roni mumbles against the base of his throat, dragging her lips up the sensitive skin and nibbling gently at his ear.

Harry hums low in his throat, squeezing Roni’s ass through the thick fabric of her skirt.  “This fucking dress,” he mumbles, and Roni can hear feel the vibration of his voice as she kisses against his neck.

It makes Roni smile to herself at how easy it is to turn him on-- especially wearing something as simple as this.  This dress, of course, is incredibly beautiful but in her time it would be considered far too modest and less than sexy.  Harry, however, is transfixed on the sight before him, and he seems completely head over heels in love with Roni as he trails his fingertips along the frills on the skirt.

Roni allows Harry a few moments of wonder before she gets right back to work, leaning in and sucking the spot below his ear. “You’re one to talk,” she mumbles, trailing her lips up to the shell of his ear.  She takes his earlobe between her teeth and nibbles gently, and Harry involuntarily squeezes at her hips, causing her to roll them against him.

Harry tilts his head, taking Roni’s bottom lip between his own and sucking.  Just as his tongue begins to gently trace its way into her mouth, his big hands slide up her back tenderly-- causing her to shiver.  She gulps, opening her mouth further and allowing him to lick his way in, greeting his tongue with a graceful swirl of her own. He hums again, and she can feel a faint whisper of a grin tugging on his mouth.

As Roni rolls her center along his ever growing bulge, he chuckles almost darkly against her lips.  “Christ,” he mutters, “What are you doing to me?”

“Feel good?” she asks, lips ghosting his.

“Going to make me finish before I’m ready,” he admits. “You’re a devil.”

Roni hums.  “Kiss me again.”  

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice, and he leans in to button their lips together once more.  He allows his hands to gather up all the ruffles along the trim of her skirt, bunching them up in one hand so he can lift it effortlessly.  Roni’s’ backside feels instantly colder, and she glances down to the spot where her core meets his.  He gulps, realizing that she’s wearing stockings and no underwear, and Roni instantly grows embarrassed.  

“Gonna make a mess on your pants if we keep going like this,” she admits breathlessly.

“S’okay,” Harry says, eyes glued to her pussy.  “It’s fuckin’ sexy.”

With his words, Roni gives another harsh roll of her hips, and Harry’s head falls back onto the couch.  He closes his eyes for a split second, trying to make a mental image of the sight of her juices slick against his trousers, and then licks his lips before speaking.

“Wanna--” he gulps,  “--wanna try something.  Can we?”

“Anything,” Roni whispers.

Harry doesn’t speak again, launching right into whatever it is he wants to try.  He takes Roni’s hips in his hands again and shifts her, ever so slightly, until she’s straddling only one of his knees.  She takes care not to accidentally knee him in the balls, which proves hard with his ever growing bulge getting bigger and bigger.  She already feels soaked, and she grows embarrassed at the slightly sticky stain already forming on his trousers.

“Harry, what--”

“I want to watch you,” he breathes, looking up at her from under his lashes.  “Want to watch you try and get yourself off on my thigh.”

Roni lets out a breath. “I don’t want to make a mess.”

“But I want you to.”  His stare is so intense, she has to avert her eyes, and he leans forward to gently bump her nose with his own.  “Please,” he says. “Just try for me.”

Roni eyes him hesitantly, before positioning herself better and beginning the rocking of her hips.  Her breath comes out shaky, and it’s Harry who lets out a low groan.  His eyes flicker continuously between her face and her pussy, and the mere sight of him makes her all the more wet.

“Feel good, princess?”

Roni shivers at her new nickname. On any other occasion, she feels she would’ve found it cringey, but now, coming from his lips, it makes her fucking melt.  Roni nods, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and focusing as much as she can on getting the friction she’s craving.  It does feel good, but truth be told it’s nowhere near enough, and she doesn’t think she’s actually going to be able to get herself off by this alone.

“I--” she breathes, already feeling winded,  “I need more.”

Harry raises his knee slightly, and Roni rolls her hips a bit harsher, inhaling sharply at the slight increase of friction.  

“Like that?” Harry asks quietly.

Roni nods.  “M-hm.  Just like that.”

“You’re a vision, Veronica,” Harry breathes.  “Look at you.”

She gives an extra hard rock of her hips.  It still feels good, but all she wants right now is him.  She reaches forward to take one of his hands from her hip and gently guides it down to her clit.

Harry grins.  “Needy,” he tuts.

“Please,” she whimpers.  “Feels good but… it’s not enough.”

There is something different in Harry’s eyes tonight, and it excites Roni more than she’s willing to admit. He gently rolls his fingers along her clit, and she arches her back.  She gulps.

“Why don’t we see how far we can take this,” Harry says slowly, “Until you can’t possibly take it anymore.”

Roni whines when Harry pulls his fingers away, laying her head down to bury her face in his neck.  “You tease.”

She can hear him chuckle softly, reaching to grip her hips and guide her along his thigh.  “And you thought I was bad the other night.”

“Gonna ruin your pants.”

“Don’t care about my trousers,” Harry states.  “Already said that. Want you all over them.”

Roni wiggles a bit uncomfortably, searching for that friction against her clit again.  She bites lightly at the spot on Harry’s neck that she knows makes him whimper, and she tries to refrain from leaving a mark.

“Can’t believe how wet you are,” Harry breathes.  “Can feel you through the fabric.”

“Harry--”

“Keep going,” he says.  “Please, honey.”

It almost seems that Harry is getting more pleasure from this than Roni herself is, and she bites at the spot where his neck meets his shoulder.   She knows this is driving him crazy, and she realizes that, despite all the sex they’ve been having the past few days, this might just be the kinkiest he’s ever gotten with her, which somehow turns her on even more.

Roni throws her head back, giving a particularly hard roll of her hips and letting a long moan drip from her lips when she hits her clit from a good angle.   “God, baby,” she whines.

Harry licks his lips and squeezes her that much tighter.  “Tell me, princess.”

“Please…” She’s wiggling ungracefully now, trying so hard to get some friction.  She reaches once again for his hand, completely unashamed of how desperate she must be coming across.  But Harry gives the back of her hand a little slap before pulling it away.  

He shakes his head.  “Nuh-uh,” he says.  “What did I just say?”

It makes Roni shiver, the tone he’s using and the darkness in his eyes.  Obviously he’d been paying attention to what she said she liked earlier because he’s brought out the big guns now.  It fuels Roni even harder-- lights a fire under her ass that makes her want to disobey him more just so he can put her in her place.

“Please,” she whines.  “It’s not enough.”

She goes to reach for his hand a third time, and this time he’s quicker than her.  He takes her wrist in his hand-- wrapping his fingers fully around the width of it, and bends her arm at the elbow so that he’s got it pinned behind her back.  He does the same with her opposite hand before she even has time to process it, and effortlessly holds them both in one of his large fists.

Harry tuts at her, shaking his head.  “Why is my girl suddenly being so bad?” he asks.  “Hm? Not doing what she’s told.  Surely she’s not asking for a spanking… is she?”

Roni groans, her hips growing tired from the constant movement, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder.  “Harry… please baby--”

He gives her wrists a tug, securing her even tighter.  He bumps her nose with his own, teasing her.  Roni chases his lips with her own, begging for a kiss, but he keeps his face just out of reach.  He chuckles darkly, sending a shiver down Roni’s spine, but then he speaks so tenderly it melts her heart.

“Is this still okay, honey?”

“Of course it is,” Roni whispers.  “Wish I could touch you, but--”

“But you like being restrained, don’t you princess?”

He speaks so formally, which somehow adds to the eroticism of the moment.  Roni has never experienced anything like this.  She moans, uninhibited.  “I do, Harry.  I really do.”

“Of course you do,” he chuckles darkly.  “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

He is looking at her intensely but there’s a hint of curiosity behind his eyes that makes this all the better.  He’s testing the waters, and it’s working for Roni in a way that nothing has ever worked before.  “I’m your good girl,” she pants.  “Please touch me.”

“Ohh,” Harry tuts.  “Now, bunny, you can take a little more teasing can’t you?”

“I can’t,” Roni whines.

“You can,” Harry says, bumping her nose with his own.  “Know you can.”

Roni lets out a cry that makes even her feel pitiful.  She’s never like this-- truly-- but Harry makes her feel something unlike anything she’s ever experienced.  “Fuck, fuck fuck,” she whimpers in frustration, her hips growing tired from their movement.  She struggles against Harry’s fists, but he’s got a firm hold on her, and he grins sadistically.

“Getting tired?”

“I’m close,” she pants,  “But it isn’t enough.  Harry-- please--”

“Hm.”  Harry narrows his eyes, blinking slowly at her as he watches her struggle.  “You have been good, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Roni cries.

“Wasn’t actually asking you, sweetheart.”  Without warning, Harry uses his free hand to smack lightly at the side of Roni’s bum, causing her to gasp.  There isn’t enough force  to actually hurt her, and the layers of her skirt sort of soften the blow, but it leaves behind a little sting that causes an involuntary moan to escape Roni’s lips.

Harry looks up at her from under his lashes, a devilish smirk on his face but a hint of innocence in his eyes.    “Was that okay?”

Roni nods, gulping harder than she intends.  “Yes,” she moans,  “it was perfect.  Do it again.”

Harry smiles, his dominant side vanishing for just a moment as he leans in to press a kiss to Roni’s lips.  “I like this kinky side of you.”  He denies her request, kissing the corner of her lips as she squirms against his lap.  “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Roni can’t help the moan that bubbles up from her throat when he reaches down to rub at the spot he’s just slapped.  How could someone be so sexy, yet so incredibly sweet at the same time?  Her clit is practically throbbing, and the spot on Harry’s trousers that is consistently being rubbed by her core grows hotter and wetter by the second.  She’s relieved when Harry lets go of her wrists-- using one hand to take her hip and the other to rub against her clit.

The whimper that leaves her lips is filthy and pathetic, and Harry uses the hand that rests on her hip to guide her movements while he rubs against her clit.  He watches her face intently, with his lips parted ever so slightly.  His cock is plumping up nicely in his trousers, and Roni squirms a bit more in an attempt to place some friction on it for him.  She fights to keep her eyes open as Harry rubs circles on her clit, and her eyes roll back in her head when he gives a particularly fast rub.

His own breathing picks up intensity, and he subconsciously licks his lips as he watches her. Roni starts babbling, voice on the verge of tears as she grinds against Harry’s fingers, and he silences her with another harsh slap to her bottom. She yelps, and he moans low in his throat.

“Go on, princess,” he says, voice thick and dark. “Use my thigh. Use my fingers. Cum all over me, baby, know you can.”

It’s only a few more seconds before Roni’s thighs are quivering, and she has to hold onto Harry’s shoulders to keep her balance while her orgasm washes over her.  Her head lulls dully to the side, and her vision goes white hot.  She doesn’t even try to quiet her moans, she lets them pour out long and full while she grinds her pussy against Harry, riding out a most delicious orgasm.

And not once does Harry remove his eyes from her face.

When the orgasm has finished, she collapses, spent, onto Harry’s shoulders. He removes his fingers from her clit (not ignoring the way she twitches as he moves) and notices his hand is sort of cramping. Using his free hand, he scratches tenderly at her back, giving her a few moments to catch her breath.  He trails his hand down gently to the spot on her ass that he’s smacked, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, soothing over the stinging as best he can.

They both seem to realize that the song has long since ended, but neither seems to care.  After a few more moments, Roni hardly makes any effort to move.  But Harry can tell she’s still needy for him by the way she begins suckling at his neck. He allows her to trail a few wet kisses along his skin there, before leaning back gently.  “Veronica? Hey, baby, can you sit up for me please?”

Roni lifts her head slowly, and the dazed out, blissful look in her eyes is almost too much for Harry to handle.  He smiles, kissing at her eyelids and loving the way her lashes flutter closed.  When he pulls back, he scans her face again.  “All this from one orgasm?”

Roni nods sleepily.  “Want more,” she says. “Please.”

“Ohhh,” Harry says with a grin.  “My needy girl.  Look so pretty right now, you know that?”

“Felt good,” Roni mumbles, already fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.  She stops when she looks down at his trousers, frowning when she sees just how soaked she’s gotten them.  

“What?” As soon as Harry’s asked, his eyes are looking at the same thing hers are, only he’s grinning and she’s not.  

“Messy,” Roni observes quietly.

“Mm.”  Harry hums low in his throat.  “But I asked you to, didn’t I?  Told you I wanted it.”

“Yeah but--”

“And it felt good, didn’t it, baby?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Roni says, a shiver running down her spine as if the mere thought of it is causing aftershocks.  “I don’t understand.”

Harry reaches up, trailing his fingertips delicately along her shoulders, tickling at her back lightly, and scratching tenderly at the back of her neck.  “What?  What don’t you understand?”

“How every time is just… so fucking good.  I don’t know how you do that.  It’s never been so intense, or.. Or…”  She runs out of words, lost in thought and melting at the way he’s touching her skin.

Harry smiles patiently.  “Or what, baby?  Say it.”

“Just…” Roni shakes her head, still at a loss for words, and she giggles at herself.  “I don’t know, Harry.  You’re just so good.  I love it.  I love you.  That was incredible.  I mean, seriously, that was so intense yet so simple.  It literally was--”

“Foreplay,” Harry says, cutting her off.  His fingers wrap gently around her throat, giving it a slight squeeze that makes her jaw drop.  “That was just foreplay, baby.”

In an instant he’s moving, never once removing his hand from her throat. He’s squirming to get his pants undone with one hand, but given the somewhat awkward position he’s in, he can’t.  Roni wastes no time, reaching down to do the job herself, and Harry beams.  “That’s right,” Harry says, his voice low in the back of his throat.  “Get me undone, will you?.”

Roni fumbles with the zipper and the button, but she seems in a daze with the way Harry’s hand feels around her neck.   He’s almost worried that he’s doing too much, maybe squeezing a bit too hard or whatever, when he hears it.

“Harder,” she whispers.  “Harry… Can you choke me harder?  Please?”

Harry can’t even attempt to hide his surprise.  “H-harder?” he stutters.

“Please,” she whines.  They seem to remember at the same time that her hands are on the buttons of his pants, and she hurries to finish the job she started.

As soon as his pants are unfastened he removes his hand from her neck and scrambles, somewhat awkwardly, to get them off. Roni has to shuffle off of him briefly as he kicks the pants off, and before she can even do anything, Harry is yanking her by her hips back on top of him. She shrieks as she falls onto him, minding his now bare cock tickling between her legs, and she reaches behind her to undo the buttons of her dress.

“Now me,” she breathes. “Let’s get this off so I can—“

Harry reaches up, taking her hand in his. “No,” he says quietly. “Leave it. Wanna fuck you in it.”

Roni shivers, licking at her lips before gulping and smiling faintly. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Harry nods, lowering her hands.  “May I?”

The fact that he’s even asking melts Roni’s heart, and all she can manage is a soft nod.  Then Harry’s off, gripping her hips and shuffling both of them so that she’s hovering over him.

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, brushing their noses together before Roni shifts slightly, sinking down onto him.

He instantly lets out a moan as she sinks lower, and her breath hitches as she tries to adjust to the size of him.  She grips his shoulders, and Harry doesn’t dare move-- giving her a moment to get used to the feeling.  She licks her lips, and Harry bumps her nose with his own, coaxing her as gently as he can.

“Doin’ so good,” he says softly.  “Feel good?”

“Mhm.”  Roni sighs, “Feels so good.”

“Can you move, bunny?  Need a minute?”

“It’s good,” Roni breathes, kissing at his jaw. “I’m good. Fuck.”

She starts rocking her hips gently, which takes Harry by surprise.   He inhales sharply through his teeth.  “Fuck, baby,” he whines, practically choking on his own pleasure.  “Keep going.”

Roni rolls her hips again, shuddering when she manages to sink just a fraction of a bit deeper on him.  She glances down at where their bodies are connected-- although it’s mostly covered by the thick fabric of her skirt.

Harry seems to read her mind, because he removes a hand from her hip and presses it gently to her lower abdomen.  “Feel me here?” he asks.  “In your tummy?”

Roni nods, obviously overly-sensitive, as tears brim her eyes.  “Feels so fucking good,” she whimpers.

Harry is almost shocked at how filthy they’re being.  Sure they’ve talked dirty before, many times, but tonight feels different.  Especially now that Harry knows what Roni is really into.

Which reminds him…

Harry reaches up under Roni’s thick skirt, gripping at the skin of her ass and digging his nails in, only slightly-- before giving her bare skin a nice smack.

Roni gasps, clearly taken aback, and Harry grins against her mouth.  “Y’like that?”

He isn’t only asking because it’s part of talking dirty-- he’s also asking because he’s genuinely curious that he’s doing alright.  Although, if the moans dripping from Roni’s pretty lips are any sort of indication as to how she’s feeling right now, Harry assumes he’s doing a pretty decent job.

Roni nods, head lulling back as she rides him. “Fuck—fuck!”

Harry rubs over the spot he’s just smacked before striking another blow. Roni hisses through her teeth, whimpering a soft, “oh god, Harry” through choking moans.

Harry gulps, clearly losing his composure but trying with all his might to keep up the dominance act.  “Love the way you squeeze me when I do that,” he groans.  “Could get used to that.”

Roni lets out a pitiful grunt, dropping her head to rest her forehead against Harry’s shoulder.  “Please,” she cries.  “Feels so good.”

Harry grips onto her hips so tightly it makes her yelp, and he’s certain there’s going to be bruises left behind tomorrow.  He guides her hips gently as she rides him, and he trembles with each roll of her hips.

Roni tilts her head to sponge wet, lazy kisses along his neck and the underside of his ear, and the sound of her labored breathing turns Harry on more than he’s ever thought possible. She takes his earlobe lightly between her teeth, and he can’t help the little moan that escapes between his grunts as he relishes in the feeling of both pleasure and pain.

It’s what Roni says next that practically tips him over the edge.

“Harry?”

“Mm?” Harry closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of her walls clenched tightly around him.

“Choke me.”

It takes Harry a moment to blink back the fog in his eyes and actually comprehend what she’s asking, but once he’s processed it it’s a request he is all too happy to comply with. He trails his hand up her arm before clasping his fingers on either side of her neck. The way her breath hitches in her throat at his actions is enough to make him want to scream.

“Of course, baby.”.

As smoothly as he can manage, he gently guides her off of him by her hips, lazily kissing against her mouth as he lays her down on her back. His prick immediately misses her warmth as they awkwardly get situated on the couch.  

Harry reaches down to take her legs in his hands, draping them over his own shoulders and leaving her entirely exposed up to him. He licks his lips when he sees exactly how wet she is, and she squirms a bit— realizing what a vulnerable position she’s in. Harry smiles reassuringly down at her, muttering a quick “fuck, you’re beautiful,” and delighting when she visibly relaxes.

Roni wiggles a bit more, using her elbows to position herself correctly against the throw pillow on his couch, and Harry holds his throbbing cock in his hand, ready to reinsert it as soon as possible.  As soon as he thinks she’s ready, he positions himself as best as he can, but Roni holds up a hand to stop him.

“Wait, careful!”

Harry raises a confused eyebrow at her, and she gestures down to the skirt of her dress that’s now pooling, unladylike, around her hips.  “It was your idea to keep this on,” she points out. “But it’s not my dress. So don’t get it dirty.”

Harry chuckles. “I’ll try,” he says, feeling a bit of the intensity between them melt (in the softest way). “No promises though.”  He moves to insert himself between her thighs again, but she stops him again.

“You break it, you buy it.”

Harry grins, amused, down at her. “What?”

Roni, realizing Harry has probably never heard that phrase before in his life, giggles and shakes her head. “Nevermind. Just fuck me. But like, you know, carefully.”

Harry’s grin turns into a deep smirk that makes Roni’s thighs twitch. “Like I said,” he says, teasing at her entrance with his tip, “no promises.”

He enters her quickly, causing them both to gasp at how sensitive they’re feeling— especially with this new position leaving her far more open to him than before.  The sound of her gasp, however, reminds Harry that he’s got a job to do. So he reaches down, wrapping his large hand gently around Roni’s throat, and squeezing the sides.

It’s uncharted territory for him, of course, but the look in Roni’s eyes is enough to make him realize that maybe he has a thing for choking as well.  Her hair is disheveled and her mascara is a bit smudged around her eyes, although that seems to be the least of her worries.  She doesn’t look scared; if anything her face looks almost challenging. She blinks up at him and mutters a single word.

“Harder.”

A curl falls into Harry’s face and he stares dumbly back down at her, processing her request. “Harder, baby?”

Roni reaches up, grasping at his wrist and squeezing. “Harder.”

Harry gulps, tightening his grip around her throat. He is careful not to fully block her airway of course, focusing the pressure instead on the sides of her neck. She shivers letting out a garbled moan.

“Fuck,” she rasps. “That’s it. Fuck me, please.”

And who is Harry to deny her?

He keeps his grip on her neck tight, leaning forward into her so his torso is almost against hers, and she squirms from her spot beneath him. Harry can feel her heels kicking into his shoulder blades but the dull ache they leave behind feels good and only fuels him to move faster.  

“Fuck,” he breathes, “fucking hell.”

He allows his weary head to drop, burying his face in her neck and suckling at the spot beneath her ear. His grip loosens, but he has to grab onto the throw pillow beneath her head with his other hand for support.

“Gonna cum,” he groans. “Veronica, I’m--”

“Cum for me,” Roni chokes out in a whining little cry.  “C’mon baby.”

Harry lets out a grunt far louder than intended, and he knows he’s only got a few seconds left. He slows his thrusts, despite everything in him screaming at him to speed it up. “Where do you want me?” He pants out.

Roni opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out flatly and blinking innocently up at him. The sight beneath him is so fucking filthy that the act of pulling out of her is almost enough to finish him off.

She twitches at the feeling of his absence before he scrambles to get himself positioned just right— lowering her legs and straddling her awkwardly while she sits up, and positioning his hand at the base of his cock.

It only takes a few pumps before he’s coming, thick hot ropes right into her tongue. He tries to aim as best as he can, but a few drops inevitably land on her cheeks and in her hair.  She waits patiently for him to finish, moaning filthily at the taste.  Harry’s nearly blinded by his own pleasure when he feels Roni wiggle beneath him, and he remembers she has yet to have an orgasm of her own.

Harry removes his hand from her throat as his orgasm comes to a stop, pausing briefly to catch his breath before reaching down to rub at her clit. She jolts at the contact, then immediately lets her head drop back.

“You going to cum for me now, honey? Hm?”

Roni wiggles her hips against the vibrations of his fingers,  paying no mind to  the way she knocks the throw pillows off of the couch.  “Feels good,” she gasps, “feels so good.”

Harry thinks maybe he should choke her again, and he moves to do so. However, no sooner is his hand raised than Roni is coming, hard and quick and loud. Her toes curl and her back arches, and she lets out a wet moan that has Harry’s own tummy clenching.  Her thighs quiver deliciously, and Harry notes the beautiful little goosebumps that prickle at her skin.

Desperately, Roni reaches for his free hand, clumsily interlacing her fingers with his. Harry takes her hand willingly, giving it a strong squeeze to hold her steady. Her orgasm is powerful, washing over her like a violent storm, and Harry gives her hand another squeeze in order to ground her.

Harry knows she’s finished when she collapses against the cushions, and he allows his fingertips to linger against her clit a few moments longer-- if only for purely selfish reasons.  He wants to make her moan like that again.  He wants her to feel good.

Harry doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until his chest starts aching, and he allows himself a few gulping breaths-- hardly daring to move until Roni has come back down to earth.  He watches her intently, giving her as much time as she needs to recover (and delighting in the way her thighs quiver with aftershocks).  After a few moments of heavy breathing, Roni opens her eyes and gives Harry the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever seen.

“Hi,” she rasps out.

Harry chuckles, giving her hand another steady squeeze.   “Hi-ya, Princess.”

Roni swallows, cheeks growing hot, and Harry can tell that she’s a little embarrassed suddenly.  He smiles, pulling the skirt of the dress down to cover her exposed bits and perhaps make her feel slightly less vulnerable.  

“I do like that, you know,” she says softly.  “‘Princess,’ I mean.”

Harry nods.  “Yeah?  Well I’ll have to keep that in mind then, won’t I?”

His words are a gentle blow to the stomach as Roni remembers once again that her time left here with him is short.  Harry seems to remember this at the same time, because he lets out a soft, nasally sigh and allows his eyes to close for just a moment.

“Anyway,” he says, his cock flopping triumphantly against his thigh and making Roni giggle. “We should get cleaned up.  Think the tub is callin’ our names, don’t you?”

Roni smiles, sitting up a bit.  “A bath sounds heavenly,” she sighs.  “Thank you.”

Harry nods, moving like he’s going to get off of her but stopping himself.  He wants to savor this moment-- really take it all in.  Remember the way she looks beneath him, fucked out and messy but as pretty as ever.  Hair perfectly styled to fit the times but lovingly tousled by the intense lovemaking they’ve just shared. Roni squirms a bit under his gaze, then laughs softly.

“What?”

“Can I say something without you getting annoyed?”

Roni’s smile drops, and she narrows her eyes.  “Uh… probably not,” she teases.

Harry laughs.  “Just… gonna miss you.  That’s all.”

Roni frowns, sitting up on her elbows.  “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that tonight.”

“We weren’t,” Harry says.  “We aren’t.  I just… you know, I had to say it.”

“Did you have to, though?”  There's a hint of playfulness in Roni’s toni, and it makes Harry laugh again.

“Just wanted to make sure you knew,” he says.  “That’s all.”

“Well for the record,” Roni sighs,  “I’m really going to miss you too.  But we’re not talking about that.”

“No, we’re not.”

There’s a moment of charged silence, in which the two lovers smile playfully at one another-- their eyes doing all of their communicating for them. Roni tucks her lip between her teeth mischievously, as if there’s something more she wants to say, and Harry simply cannot take it anymore.  He’s so overwhelmed by how much he loves her, and so giddy at how easy it is to be comfortable and silly around her.  (And the fact that he’s going to miss her so much only pushes him to want to do everything he can for her.)

In one swift movement, he’s up, picking her up by the hips and clumsily yanking her up off the sofa. She squeals, stumbling as she’s swept off her feet and into his arms. “Harry!”

It’s almost silly how awkwardly he stands, his prick hanging limp and proud while he holds her. She squirms in his arms when he begins walking, trying her best to get comfortable— which proves to be very hard with the heavy skirt weighing her down.

“What are you doing?!” She giggles.

“Carrying the princess to her royal bath, of course.”

Roni rolls her eyes. “Oh my god. You’re so embarrassing.”

In retaliation, Harry moves like he’s going to drop her, causing her to screech and hold on to him tighter. “Harry!”

“Careful,” Harry giggles, kicking the bathroom door open with his foot. “Or I’ll drop ya!”

Contrary to his words, Harry sets Roni gently down on the counter, pressing a soft kiss to her nose before moving to turn on the faucet.

“Now then,” he asks. “We haven’t got many options as far as soap goes. What would you like?”

“What are my options?” Roni swings her legs daintily.

“Lavender,” Harry says, matter-of-factly.

Roni waits for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, she snorts. “Hmm… not sure I like that. Got any vanilla?”

Harry grins right back at her, testing the water from the faucet with his fingertips. “Lavender it is.”

They spend the rest of their night like this, laughing together while sharing lazy, wet kisses and washing one another. Roni comments on a particularly nice bruise she’s left on Harry’s shoulder and Harry admires how red Roni’s behind is.

“Got you pretty good then, didn’t I?”

After the bath they take turns rubbing lotion into one another’s skin— which of course leads to another session of lovemaking, much gentler and softer than before.  It doesn’t take Harry long to fall asleep on Roni’s chest, breathing in sync with her and relishing in the way that she scratches gently at his scalp.

Roni takes a long whiff in through her nose for what feels like the fiftieth time this evening— taking in the delicious scent of the beautiful sleeping boy on her chest and trying to ignore the thought that keeps lingering in her mind.

She loves him.  And she is really, really going to miss him.

[hockeyboysiguess]

impatient | m. tkachuk

a/n: a little bit of pining, a lot a bit of other things. this was super fun to write even if it killed me a little to do. 

warnings: smut, swearing, alcohol, and more smut

(this is a new and optional (no pressure but I think it will add to your experience reading my fics) thing I’m starting where all of my fics now come with a recommended wine pairing to drink while you read. full disclosure, I know absolutely nothing about wine and don’t intend to learn a damn thing about it while doing this. i order by the color and price per glass. these recommendations are based off how I feel and nothing else)

wine pairing recommendation: pink moscato, because we’re all basic bitches for matty tkachuk and pink moscato is the basic bitch wine. you know you like it. don’t lie.

word count: 5.3K

“Fuck, Matty,” you breathed out between moans as your fingers threaded deeper into the mess of curls between your thighs. 

“Oh, like that?”

His hot breath fanned out across your hot, sensitive core and you groaned at the sensation. Matthew leaned in closer to you, his broad shoulders pushing your legs further apart. He still stopped short of putting his mouth on you. 

“Matthew, please,” you whined, your body stiffening as you tried to grind your hips down to get more contact. 

“Patience,” he kissed the inside of your thigh, a few inches from exactly where you wanted his mouth, “is a virtue, honey.” 

“I fucking hate you,” you complained, but it came out empty. 

“Mm, that’s hot,” was all he said before his tongue finally touched your clit and you couldn’t help but let out an embarrassingly loud moan.

Your body decided that moment you finally felt the tension start to unfold was the perfect moment to wake you up from a dream you haven’t asked for, but decided to enjoy anyway.

“Oh, fuck me,” you groaned as you pulled the covers up over your face. “He’s everywhere.”

You stumbled slowly out of bed to the bathroom. Your inability to be patient meant you washed your face with water that was verging on ice cold, which luckily today came in handy and helped you cool you off from your dream. Matthew had found his way into a lot of your thoughts when you were by yourself. He was becoming absolutely unavoidable.

“Good morning!” your long-time roommate and self-identified best friend Kayla sang as you entered the kitchen.

You have her your customary grunt in reply. One of the biggest issues in your friendship with Kayla was that she was a literal ray of sunshine presenting as a human being. She was a blindingly bright, cheery, peppy morning person who wore her heart on her sleeve and believed that everything would be better with a sprinkle of sugar and a little more love. You couldn’t understand how a person older than eight could possibly have the personality Kayla did, but she’d made it this far into life like this, so this was how she was.

“I made you a smoothie bowl. It’s in the fridge next to your coffee that’s chilling so it can be iced coffee,” Kayla informed you, sounding more like she was meant to sing to birds so they would assist her in baking a cake than that she made you, a woman arguably resembling a river troll right now more than a person, a smoothie bowl and coffee.

You grabbed the bowl eagerly, needed something to try to get your mind from replying the self-created imagine of Matty’s shoulders and curly head between your thighs. You sighed as you took your seat at the breakfast bar next to Kayla. You dug in instantly. It was one of Kayla’s better ones.

“Is good, K,” you mumbled around the berries in your mouth.

“Thank ya,” she replied with a bright smile.

“K,” you wiped the corners of your mouth before you turned to her, “can I tell you something if you promise not to tell anyone else?”

“Of course!”

Kayla was lying and you knew it. Loose lips might sink ships, but your friendship was too strong to sink despite Kayla’s knack for spilling all the beans she knew as soon as she was pushed in the slightest of ways. But, you needed to get this off your chest.

“I had a sex dream about Matthew Tkachuk,” you said bluntly.

Kayla’s spoon paused on its journey to her mouth before it dropped back into the bowl aggressively. Little purple droplets of smoothie sprayed across counter due to her sudden movement. Her mouth dropped open as she processed what you said.

“It was like, almost a sex dream, I guess,” you sighed. “He was about to eat me out and his shoulders, god the shoulders and the curls, and it was just, it was so hot and I have no idea what this means.”

“If I start singing that nursery rhyme about you two sitting in a tree kissing are you going to throw your coffee at me?” Kayla was already wincing back in her seat with her hands protectively in front of her face before she finished her sentence. “This cream sweatshirt doesn’t deserve it even if I do for saying that.” 

You rolled your eyes at her and turned your attention back to your quickly thinning breakfast. 

“Do you maybe like him, like him?” she asked hesitantly. 

“He’s super annoying, Kayla,” you reminded her, “and I doubt he’s even into me in the slightly.” 

“He’s totally into you and I know you’re into him. Annoying and a big ego is your type. He’s annoying to you because he’s constantly pulling your metaphorical pig tails.” 

You rolled your eyes again, wondering if maybe they were going to get stuck up there that your mom had always threatened when you were little, before replying with, “This isn’t elementary school, K. Even if I did have a little crush, he’s not that type of guy and I’m not his type. ”

She shrugged and put her hands up, telling you that her opinion was her opinion and you could like take it or leave it. 

“I just told you what I think, that’s all,” she said. “I also think we need to dress you up extra hot for the bar tonight and you better shave, just in case, you know.”

-------

As the first shot of tequila burned down your throat later that night, you were starting to regret telling Kayla. She’d already had three drinks and around four was when the secrets started spilling out and Matthew was bound to show up any minute. The team had lost tonight, but they were still coming out to celebrate someone’s birthday. 

“That shirt makes your boobs look amazing!” The last word was sung, entirely unsurprising with your best friend. “Thank god you let me do your makeup tonight too. He’s not going to be able to take his eyes off you.” 

“K,” you sighed as you sat the empty shot glass down on the bar, “he’s not exactly a buy-you-roses, take-you-home-to-his-momma, remember-your-anniversary, kind of guy. Pretty sure, if I wanted to, this would be a one and done sort of thing.” 

Kayla shook her head after taking another shot that you couldn’t identify the origin of since you didn’t have another. Oh great, four deep. 

“I’m telling you, babe. He’s into you. Like, he’s actually into you,” Kayla told you.

“Who’s into you?” 

As if on cue, with an actual tug of your ponytail, Matthew was by your side with his classic, every present cocky smile and mop of curly hair, grabbing your attention even though you didn’t want to give it to him. 

“No one,” you told him. “You’re just in time to pay for my next drink though.” 

“You’re the worst person I know,” Matthew told you with a sigh. “You just talk to me for my money, don’t you?” 

“Well, it certainly couldn’t be because of your personality,” you chirped back.

His credit card still hit the bar a few seconds later though, a wide smile on his face. He slid tight up next you, one of his hands gently resting on your back as he threw some cash on the bar along with his card to catch a bartender’s attention. His hand pressed against your back was warm and strong and you wanted to lean into it, into him. You resisted, your body stiffening as you resisted the urge to collapse into him. 

“Oh, sorry,” Matthew mumbled as he took his hand away.

“Oh, you’re good! You can keep it there if you want.” 

You’d said it a little too quickly and with a little too much pep for you, but luckily the volume of the bar covered it. Matthew just nodded and let his hand gently rest on your back again, his fingers drumming against you, as he ordered his and apparently your next drink. 

“Don’t I get to order myself?” you asked him as you tilted your head back to allow for eye contact. 

“When you’re paying,” Matthew chuckled before giving your ponytail another quick tug. “So, how’s work? Pretty sure you know how mine went today, so distract me with yours, please.” 

You just started to make small talk about your work and his when your drinks arrived. Matthew was already being pulled away from you the second his beer touched his hand. 

“Find me in a few!” he shouted over the noise as he was led off to the dance floor. 

You definitely didn’t like you if he left that quickly, but you tried to focus on your drink instead of him. You couldn’t figure out what he’d ordered you by the taste. It was strong, but still tasted good, which was about all that actually mattered. You shrugged it off and headed over to mingle among the team and your other friends, mystery drink in hand and thoughts of Matthew in your head. 

By the time your ass was back on your barstool, you weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you’d had three of Matthew’s mystery drinks and you were feeling them. Still, even at your worst, you weren’t Kayla who had already been yelled three separate times by security for climbing on a chair, a table, and the bar. She could not hold her alcohol even if you paid her a million dollars to do it. 

“Jesus, I’m amazed they haven’t kicked her out yet. I see we’re being boring over here though instead of fun like Kayla.”

Matthew. Of course he’d find you the second you decided to take a little breather. You rolled your eyes at him and he laughed lightly. You knew he was teasing. He was always teasing you, always chirping you. You took the last sip of your drink and began the internal debate on if you could handle one more or not.

“Look, Chucky Cheese, not all girl are table dancing types,” you sighed, settling on the idea that one more would probably more likely than not be one too many. 

Matthew slid his stool closer to you as he waved the nearest bartender down to close out his tab, apparently deciding he was also done for the night along with you.  The scent of his cologne was engulfing you in a way that made the rest of the world around you slowly start to disappear. 

“I’m not into table dancing types,” he informed you as he intercepted your tab before you could glance at how much he was shelling out for you tonight. “More into the roommates of the table dancing types. Especially,” he slid the clipboard with the bill to the opposite edge of the bar as his eyes turned back to lock with yours, “when I have it on good authority that table dancing girl’s roommate is into me.” 

If you’d still been drinking, you would’ve choked on it with that statement. 

“What?” was all you managed to get out in response.

Matthew chuckled a little and nodded softly, as if he’d been expecting that very response. He pivoted on his stool to face you. Slowly and steadily, Matthew leaned in closer to you. Even sitting, he towered over you and it made your breath hitch in your throat. Him leaning into you like this enveloped you in the feeling of him and the smell of his cologne. His lips came to rest just next to the shell of your ear, accidentally grazing it for a moment. If you weren’t already sitting, your knees would’ve buckled. 

“Kayla is a little too drunk to keep your dreams a secret. She said something about how my shoulders would look between your thighs? Could’ve heard that wrong though.” Matthew said softly to you. “It’s okay. I’m happy to make your dreams come true tonight.” 

He paused for a second and you weren’t sure if you had breathed the entire time he’d spoke. He took a deep breath before continuing. 

“That is, if you’re interested.” 

Loose lips sink ships, but maybe, just maybe, Kayla’s loose lips were about to make something float for the first time in her life. 

“Don’t worry so much,” he whispered against your ear as he sensed your nerves, his lips ghosting across your sensitive skin as he spoke, “I want you so fucking bad right now.”

He pulled back, settling onto his stool again with practiced ease, and your heart started racing in your chest. You could barely hear the crowd over your heart beating in your ears. You had to think of something to say and you didn’t have a lot of time to do. Your brain was racing, not landing on any thought in particular long enough for it to take hold. Matthew knew he had you exactly where he wanted and his confidence was turning you on in a way that you hated that you loved. He leaned in closer to you, his smirk still strong as he came closer to you, his mouth inches from yours. You wanted to throw him off guard, wipe that cocky smirk right off his face, so you said the first thing that came to mind. 

“You’ve got to buy me dinner first, Tkachuk.”

You didn’t know what part of your brain found those words. You didn’t know why they’d come out of your mouth. You didn’t even know how truly interested you were. The last one was a lie to yourself, but those words were a 50/50 gamble. Maybe he wanted to fuck you and take you to dinner. Maybe he just wanted one night to get over a tough division loss tonight. You had no evidence other than Kayla’s pigtail pulling theory to support the idea that maybe he might not just be looking for a one night stand and Kayla was so often wrong.

“Hmm, any chance I can cash in on dessert tonight and take you to dinner tomorrow?” The smirk was replaced with a soft smile, a smile that made you want to fall right into his broad chest and never leave. “Because I’m not exactly super patient here and I know you’re going to look absolutely killer in a tight dress at the stupidly expensive restaurant I’m going to take you to tomorrow night, but you’d also look so fucking good in my bed right now.”

"Is that so?” you asked him, stealing his smirk from earlier. “How nice is this restaurant?”

“Not as nice as I’m going to make you feel in a few minutes if you let me.” 

You pressed your mouth against his as your way of answering. Matthew’s hands were on your waist, pulling you off your stool and into him as he took over, his mouth working aggressively against yours. Your hands clasped together behind his neck, securing you against him. Matthew was the one to pull back, surprising you. He released one hand from your waist to pull his phone out of his pocket and open up Uber on his phone. 

“Unless that didn’t mean what I think it meant, I’m taking you home, woman,” Matthew said as he ordered the car.

“What ever do you think it could mean?” you countered in the lightest, brightest sarcastic voice you could find. 

“Don’t tease me like that,” Matthew smirked, his face inches from yours now that his phone was secured in his pocket again. His forehead dipped down to press against yours. “You want this, right?”

“I’m just in this for the idea that the stupidly expensive restaurant has lobster,” you teased him again.

He shook his head softly and let out a soft breath before kissing you again in a way that told you that you were about to be in for a hell of a night. The Uber to his place was a blur for you due to alcohol and anxiety. You wanted Matthew. You knew for certain he wanted you too. That didn’t mean doubt and insecurities weren’t trying to worm your way in and ruin this for you. Matthew’s arm around your shoulders pulled you back to the present. He was pressing you tight against him in the elevator ride up to his apartment. 

“Stop with the mind racing thing you do. I can see the hamsters running up there,” Matthew laughed, his head falling back against the elevator to rest as he looked at you. “You’re not going to have to dream about this anymore. You get the real thing and I’m buying you dinner. You’ve come out on top here, even though you’re not actually going to be on top tonight.”

“Keep chirping me and see if I won’t turn around right now,” you replied as the elevator doors opened. 

“Your prerogative,” Matthew shrugged and he pulled his keys out with his free hand, “but I think taking your right hand over me is a poor choice for you.”

“Aw, you think I don’t own a vibrator.” Matthew’s hand stumbled as he tried to put the key into the lock, probably something to do with what you’d just said.  “Cute of you.” 

“Own anything else I might want to know about?” he asked you curiously as he pushed open his door after successfully wrangling his key. 

“All in due time, Tkachuk,” you said with a pat of his broad chest as you breezed past him into his apartment. 

Matthew breathed out a long sigh. It turned slowly into a chuckle towards the end as he shut the door, his mind jumping forward to when you’d hopefully let him see whatever you were alluding to that was in the back of your top drawer. You didn’t make it far into Matthew’s apartment before his large hands grabbed your hips and spun you to face him, his mouth crushing against yours moments later. Your hands grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and started to pull it up. 

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, tiger,” Matthew laughed against your mouth while letting his hands take over and pull his shirt up. “We just got here.” 

“If you’re in a slow and steady mood, I’d rather go home to my vibrator.” 

Matthew pulled back from your mouth, still laughing as he tossed his shirt to the floor. He didn’t answer you, instead choosing to attach his mouth to your neck, nipping at the thin skin there as your hands found purchase on his bare chest. His teeth grazed across the skin over your collarbone as he worked his way down and your nails slid down his chest, leaving red lines down his pale skin. 

“Jesus, fuck,” Matthew groaned out as your actions, his voice only deepening due to the sensation. 

His hands on your hips gripped hard, the tips of his fingers pressing into the exposed skin where your shirt had rode up. Matthew slowly guided you backwards until you felt the back of your knees hit the edge of a couch cushion. Matthew left a searing kiss on your lips before he gave you a shove so you fell back on the couch. 

“Clothes, off,” Matthew told you as he unbuckled his belt. 

“You think-”

“I am in charge. Don’t even,” he laughed softly as he yanked his belt from the belt loops in his jeans and dropped it to the floor. “You’re still very dressed by the way.”

You huffed and stuck your tongue out at him, only making him laugh harder, but you listened to him nonetheless, tossing your clothes to the floor along with his. Matthew stopped with just his boxers left, and you followed his lead. His light eyes were darker as he took in the sight of you in just your bra and panties. Kayla had insisted you wear the one matching set you owned tonight and you made a mental note to thank her tomorrow. Matthew’s tongue darted out to lick across his bottom lip. 

“Man, that’s a good look for you.” Matthew paused as he climbed over you, holding up his large frame over yours on the couch on his hands pressed into the cushions next to your head. He lowered his mouth to the swell of your breast, biting gently into the soft skin there. He mumbled against your skin, “Don’t wear clothes anymore.”

“I think I need to, to go to work,” you muttered, your mind far more occupied with what Matthew’s mouth was doing at the moment than speaking. 

His hands were coasting up and down your skin, over your thighs, across your stomach. He was touching every part of you and your body was coming alive under his touch. You opened your mouth to add something, but Matthew had used that same moment as his opportunity to pull one of the lace cups of your bra aside and quickly take your now exposed nipple into his mouth. Your open mouth turned into a loud moan as his tongue rolled across the sensitive nub smoothly. You were already almost seeing stars when he gingerly took it between his teeth for a moment. 

The bra which had previously been something he appreciated, was now in his way, so it ended up on the floor with the rest of your clothes. Matthew groaned at the site of you without it. He’d decided that naked was your best look, before he’d even gotten you completely naked. You could feel his eyes drinking you in and you would have felt self conscious if not for the fact that Matthew shifted over you, pressing his hardness against your thigh in a desperate attempt for friction. 

“Why didn’t we,” Matthew took your other nipple into his mouth mid sentence, letting one of his hands finally stop moving across your skin, to pinch your other nipple between his fingers. He repeated his actions from the other side, tongue rolling your nipple softly before taking it between his teeth. His fingers pinched the other roughly as he did this, making your whine underneath him. He finally finished after releasing your nipple with a soft pop, “do this sooner?” 

“I don’t know, but I really need you to touch me,” you whined, your hands flying to his shoulders to push him down.

He didn’t budge. After all, he was a professional athlete with the strength and weight to match the job title. He relented though without much effort on your part, after throwing you a teasing grin, and pulled your panties down your legs with two fingers hooked into each side. He sank onto the couch between your thighs. You gasped as you could feel his hot breath on your wet slit. Matthew looked at you, taking in everything that was in front of him. 

“You,” he pressed a kiss to the left side of your inner thigh, “are,” he kissed the opposite side, “so,” he kissed higher up on the left side, closer to where you wanted him, “fucking,” he kissed the opposite side at the same distance from your slit. His mouth moved closer, hovering an inch above your core and he added, “Sexy,” before pressing his tongue between your folds and licking in one firm line up to your clit. 

Your eyes rolled back in your head at the contact and your hips bucked up toward his mouth to try and get more contact. One of Matthew’s hands came down low on your stomach and pushed you flat back onto the couch. 

“Easy, easy,” he soft softly, giving your clit a gentle, chaste kiss. “I’ve got you.” 

You let out a deep breath as you tried to get your body back under your control. Your control held until Matthew’s tongue started to circle your clit for the first time. He was pulling moans from your throat that you didn’t know you made as he worked your clit slowly and steadily. Matthew was brash and bold and fast on the ice, but he was steady here, taking his time. You were his guide as he let the noises he was causing you to make guide him. 

You took notice when he flatted his tongue against your clit and looked up at you, his blue eyes locking with yours for a moment. He slowly and purposefully applied more pressure on your clit before shaking his head back and forth, dragging his tongue across your clit firmly. Your eyes slammed shut and your hands flexed into his curls at the sensation. 

“Matthew, fuck,” you managed to break out, your voice cracking between the words. “Holy fuck.” 

“Easy, baby. Easy,” Matthew reminded you softly before returning to you. 

He ran his tongue down your slit again, dipping it ever so slightly into you, making you squirm and whine, before returning his attention to your clit. He started moving his tongue faster, sliding left to right against the sensitive bundle of nerves as he could hear the noises you were matching shift and build. You were becoming more restless under him as your orgasm starting building, desperate to feel that release. Matthew was impatient to get you into his bed, or onto his couch, earlier but he was so very patient now, milking you slowly and gently, making sure to savor every taste of you he was getting, making sure you were enjoying yourself. 

“Matthew, more, please,” you begging softly, tugged his curls to try to push him more into your core. 

He listened, suddenly taking his clit into your mouth and sucking softly on it. You were seeing stars by the time he released it, his tongue moving in quick circles over it. You were so distracted that you didn’t noticed his hand move from your stomach until you felt two of his fingers slide into you. The new feeling pulled you over the edge almost instantly. Matthew’s fingers pumped in and out of you as his tongue continued his movement on your clit to bring you through your orgasm.

“Oh, my, god,” you breathed out, your chest heaving, as Matthew slowly pulled back from you. 

“I don’t think god had anything to do with that actually,” he joked in reply, throwing you a wink that made you remember exactly the kind of guy he really was.

You were about to throw that back in his face, until he slid the two fingers that had been in you into his mouth, sucking them clean in front of you. Your mouth was slack as you watched him, drinking in the sight in front of you. 

“Dessert was fucking delicious by the way,” he told you after releasing his now clean fingers. 

He pushed up off the couch and disappeared down the hallway. You heard a drawer open in what you assumed was his bedroom and shut quickly after. You were still catching your breath by the time he was back, foil packet in hand. 

“Yes?” he asked, lifting the condom up slightly to you as his way of checking with you. 

“Please,” you simply replied. 

Your dream hadn’t even gone as what he’d just finished, but you can’t say you hadn’t imagined this before. You desperately wanted to know what it felt like to have him inside you. Matthew nodded in response before dropping his boxers to the floor, quickly ripping open the foil packet and rolling the condom down his hard shaft. He sighed happily as he looked you over, stroking himself a few times. 

“Hands and knees,” he told you as he crossed the room to you. 

You obliged, flipping over onto your knees, bracing your arms on the back of the couch for more leverage. You felt Matthew sink onto the couch behind you before one of his large hands gripped your ass roughly, squeezing it. He gave the now reddened skin a soft tap before his hand slid to your hip to steady himself as he lined up with you. You both moaned as he slowly slid into it, your wetness allowing for him to enter you in one smooth motion until his hips were pressed against your ass. 

“Jesus, shit,” Matthew mumbled before taking a deep breath. “You feel so fucking good. Christ, woman.” 

“You going to lose it or are you actually going to be able to-”

You didn’t get to finish that sentence as Matthew pulled almost all of the way out before roughly slamming his hips forward until they met your ass again. You gasped at the sudden and now unrelenting movement as Matthew moved at a rough, fast pace, thrusting in and out of you quickly. You gripped the back of the couch and began to push off from the couch slightly, meeting his thrusts with small movements of your own, making him curse between his teeth at how deep he was inside of you each time.  

One of Matthew’s hands was digging into the skin of your hip, steadying him to you and his other was on your shoulder, fingers slowly sliding over from the back of your shoulder to the front, inching ever so slightly toward your neck. You knew what he wanted, but wouldn’t ask for this time around, but you could offer it. You steadied yourself with one forearm on the back of the couch before sliding your free hand up to grab his. His rhythm flattered a little until he realized what you were doing, and then he almost fell apart far too early. You gently guided his fingers until they were wrapped around your throat. 

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he spat out between thrusts.

You nodded and he slowly and steadily applied pressure to your throat, the side of his hand from his index finger to his thumb pressing in just the right spot to restrict your breathing, but not cut it off dangerously. You started moaning louder with the added sensation and Matthew’s thrusts were becoming sloppy. You knew he wanted to last longer, but he got caught off guard by your assertiveness in the best way possible and wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer.

“Fuck, fuck,” Matthew mumbled before his breathing hitched in his throat. 

He groaned, his hand squeezing down hard on your throat, as his thrusts started to slow as he came down from his high. He collapsed down onto your back when he was finished, releasing your throat so he could wrap his arms around your stomach and give you a quick squeeze. Matthew pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before slowly pulling out of you. You sighed as you flipped over so you were sitting up on the couch, giving your knees a break. 

Matthew climbed off the couch and headed back down the hallway, returning a few moments later with a damp washcloth for you. You were surprised by the gestured, but grateful for it nonetheless. 

“I meant it,” Matthew told you as he dropped down on the couch next to you, a water bottle in hand.

You gave him a curious look, trying to figure out what he was referring to in that moment. He took a swig from the bottle before answering.

“Taking you out tomorrow,” he continued when he saw your confusion. He passed you the bottle, before continuing, “I meant it.”

"I didn’t think you weren’t,” you replied with a shrug before popping open the bottle to take a few swigs, grateful for the cool water since you’d both managed to work up a sweat during that.

“Good,” he nodded, curls bouncing with his movement. 

The moment was sweet, too sweet for how the rest of the evening had gone. The teasing tone that covered not only the evening, but your friendship with Matthew needed to return. Matthew was also too sure of himself to miss the opportunity at his feet. 

“So, did I live up the dream?” he asked you, a cocky grin on his face that matched his tone. “Actually, I know I was better. But how much better was I?” 

[starlight-vixen-emiko]

Team Miraculous Introduction

Hey all! This is coming out of nowhere.

Basically I had this fanfic chapter about the Lukanette and Adrigami fankids I created becoming the new wielders of the miraculous...And Marinette and Luka’s oldest son becoming the new Ladybug.

I am posting this because @lenoraishere said she wanted to write about him so I felt I may as well post this introduction chapter.

The reason why Halloween is mentioned is because this is an introduction chapter to a Halloween fanfic I wrote last year...Speaking of which that fanfic is still in my files and I do intend to finish it and publish it once Halloween rolls around. Soon my darlings!

So anyways I hope you guys enjoy...This was my first time writing fankids and I will be humble and say this may not be the best introduction.

I hope you enjoy it Lenora...Believe me this doesn’t count as your birthday gift I have something better planned. Then again I realize your birthday is fast approaching and I have lost track of time! Eep!

~~~~~

My name is Leon Couffaine-Cheng. If you haven't heard of me, I am the son of Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Luka Couffaine, otherwise known as Ladybug and Viperion, the protectors of Paris.

The best protectors in the world. But shortly after I turned 15, my mom told me she felt a "sign from the Miraculous box" or something. I still remember it. It seemed like a typical day with my parents and little sisters. Then my mom gave me a devious smile and showered me with compliments when I just wanted to go to school early.

She told me that the box chose me to be the newer holder of the Ladybug Miraculous.

I just didn't get it. I mean, being a superhero sounds cool and all. Still, I don't know why I, in particular, was chosen to be the Ladybug. Or, as much as Tikki disagrees, I call myself Luckybug.

I figured my 13-year-old sister Marina was more suited. She is a fiery tomboy with electric blue hair and long pigtails, and she can skate and bike through anything. But my dad smiled at her and said she was chosen to carry the snake miraculous, Sass. Which she happily accepted.

Then there is my youngest sister Melanie. A beautiful little 9-year-old girl, kind-hearted, mature, helps around the house, and likes to bake sweets.

I figured Melanie would be the new Ladybug since she is Ladybug's biggest fan. She was super close to her Ladybug dolls when she was younger.

But recently, Melanie discovered a connection to the mouse miraculous.

I figured if this whole Ladybug thing did not work out for me, my little sister could take her place. But my parents are already protective of her and would prefer she not be a superhero until she is older.

It was too much for me to take, and I just wanted to go to school and have a typical day with my friends.

I met up with my best friend Masamori first.

Masamori Tsurugi-Agreste. Son of Adrien Agreste and Kagami Tsurugi. Also known as Chat Noir and Ryuuko.

They are the second greatest heroes of Paris, as much as Uncle Adrien and Aunt Kagami hate it when I say that.

Masamori lit up as usual when he saw me and said. "You'll never guess Leon! My mother told me that I was called by the dragon kwami Long!"

Long floated out of Masa's necklace and greeted me with a bow.

I looked at Masa straight in the eye with a sullen face.

"Leon, what's wrong?" Masa yelped.

I was about to open my mouth, and then Tikki appeared in front of me.

"I have been chosen to be Leon's partner!" Tikki said.

Masamori was overjoyed, but I couldn't help but vent to him about how this was a lot to take in. I question why I was chosen instead of Melanie.

We sat on a bench, and Masa gave me a pep talk. "This is a huge responsibility Leon, but I believe you can take it. There is a bigger reason for this, and weirder things have happened!"

As we walked through the crowd of students, I suddenly became self-conscious about the earrings I had to wear.

I covered my ears and said, "My dad can make earrings work, but I can't."

"You never looked better, Leon!" Masamori said.

I groaned under my breath and continued walking.

And then, just when I thought I could catch my breath.

"Leon! Take a look!" Masa said.

Up ahead was the recent transfer student Jinfeng. A beautiful Chinese girl with shiny long hair.

Now I felt even more self-conscious. I just wanted to hide my ears and run away. But I dropped my bag mid-escape and had no choice but to grab it. I had no idea Jinfeng was behind me.

"Leon," she said in a voice that made my heart skip a beat. "I love those earrings. They really suit you."

I turned out of politeness and tried to keep a benign expression, but I felt a big drop of sweat on my forehead and the back of my neck.

"Thank you for saying that!" I blurted out.

I realized it was a bit more frantic than I expected since she stepped back, looking a bit concerned.

Masamori gave me a bit of a push to get away.

"Come on, Leon, we have to head back to class!" Masamori cried.

After school, we met up with my sister Marina and Masamori's 13-year-old younger sister Erina. She is a blonde-haired Japanese-French girl, like someone out of an anime.

She spent nearly an entire summer in Japan and was lucky Marina was still best friends with her. She became the holder of the black cat miraculous. Sometimes we would team up, like my mom and Uncle Adrien teaming up back in the day, and I would joke about her being a cute kitty. Which she replied with, "Shut up, Bug Boy!"

"You're really good at scaring off girls with your cold demeanor, Lee-Kun!" Erina said.

Marina and Erina playfully laughed at my romance issues. Marina and Erina always caused mischief together. At least I had Masamori to get me out of mischief.

"Well, Erina and I are going to hang out tonight," Marina said.

Marina walked away with a skateboard in hand, and Erina had her kendo sword.

"I am not covering for you tonight!" I said.

Marina groaned and shrugged. "Fine!" She spat.

Masamori joined me in walking back to my house, where, as expected, my sister Melanie was watching movies with Masamori's youngest brother, Aiden Tsurugi-Agreste.

A boy mature for his age despite being only 9. Since Agreste-san and Tsurugi-san are usually busy with work, Aiden usually spends time here with Melanie. The two are inseparable friends watching movies here and making baked goods.

Melanie and Aiden looked at us as we came in.

"Hi Mel Mel," I said. "Hi, Aiden."

Melanie lit up. "Big brother!" She held her adorable little hands up. "I am so happy you're home safe. I hope nothing dangerous happened."

I sighed. "Nothing happened today, Mels." Just the way I like it.

"Luckybug is the great new hero of Paris!" Melanie said triumphantly. "Just like Mama was!" Melanie looked so incredibly starstruck.

Aiden smiled. "Yeah, it was great how you saved our school from The Food Fighter."

All I remember from that is bananas in my hair and stepping in gross puddles of spinach.

"I can take you home now, Aiden," Masamori said.

Aiden crossed his arms. "Five more minutes!"

Surprisingly Aiden hasn't felt a connection to a kwami. Which I guess isn't a terrible thing since Aiden is such a good boy, and I can't imagine him fighting anyone. But he is still an honorary member of Team Miraculous, so he deserves mention. That and he has been so good to my beloved younger sister.

Why am I bringing this up, you may ask? Because this Halloween is our first Halloween being miraculous holders. I just hope no weird Halloween akumatization happens that night. I just want to spend Halloween with my friends and my family. That isn't too much to ask for, right?!

"Mel-Chan!" Aiden cried. "I wonder what Halloween is going to be like for Team Miraculous."

Melanie smiled at Aiden as if she was just as excited over the idea. "Maybe the streets will be filled with walking skeletons, talking pumpkins, and ghosts Ai-Kun!"

I was flabbergasted! Melanie and Aiden treated this like this was a fun Halloween episode of a cartoon.

Akumas can make any event weird and freaky, and I am nervous just thinking about what could happen on Halloween night. It could be a scarier Halloween night than we could ever imagine.

Author’s Note: I apologize if this isn’t perfect. Honestly I didn’t care as much about making this pitch perfect because I wasn’t planning on publishing it on my ao3.

But yes I was considering writing a next generation fanfic.....Of course that sounds a bit nervewracking to me.

Yes there is a bit of a history repeats itself thing going on with Leon having a highschool crush...Granted recently I decided to make Leon bi and give him a male love rival as well but in this fanfic I couldn’t find a way to put the male love rival in just yet so I left that part out.

[timextoxhajima]

Grounded: Level 0

Level 1

Member: Minho (Lee Know)

Genre: idol minho x idol trainee reader, angst cause is it a dana fic if there is no angst

Taglist: @valeriee-h​

A/N: Thank you for 400 followers. You all have been nothing but exceptional. 

[F E B R U A R Y 2 0 1 6]

The metallic taste seeping into your mouth was starting to annoy you, and on top of that, the tears that were running down your cheeks and between your lips were stinging the wounds you managed to inflict on yourself with your teeth.

You can hear the laughter and the sound of the bass against the flooring from where you were, though you were a good distance away from the practicing hall. The room smelled like dust and must due to the hose reel box being unused for such a long time, you wouldn't know. Your hands were probably messed up from all the accidental touching of the walls and the floor -- and great, now you've gone ahead and wiped away your tears with your hands.

Your teeth are gritted so hard against each other that you can feel your temples tightening, and all you want to do was to pack up and go home and call it quits--

"I know you're in there."

Silence. Then a shadow comes to block the bars of light coming through the slits of the door.

Choosing to keep quiet, you don't know why you thought he'd go away. He was the vice-captain of the dance crew and he obviously wasn't going to let you go without getting you out of the hose reel storeroom.

"I'm not going to force you out. But I need to know just one thing."

A pause.

"Do you still like dancing?"

Out of shame, you look down to your knees, now curled up into your chest. The tears continue to fall because you both know your answer. It’s just the physical pain and lack of resistance that’s keeping you from going further.

You can hear him sigh when he leans against the door, the wood creaking just the slightest with his weight against it. It was almost completely dark, now that he’s covered most of the slits in the door. The sweat trailing down the sides of your forehead and down your cheek gets mistaken for tears, urging you to wipe them away with the back of your hand. 

“I know you’re tired, but if you stop here, then there’s no way you can improve.”

You gulp, your throat feeling dry from the continuous days of air-conditioned practice hall and then the crying did nothing but further aggravate it. 

“...What makes you think I can still improve? What if this is the furthest I can go?”

“I thought like that once,” A small thud. He probably leaned his head backwards. “But I signed up for this because I like it. And frankly, I don’t know what else I’d do if I don’t do this for myself. So, now my question is: who are you doing this for, and if you’re willing to continue doing it for yourself?”

Your head is empty. There’s nothing but the want to start moving again, it’s the reflection in the mirror you’re afraid to see. 

The music from the practise hall starts again. By now, the song is more than annoying, but the adrenaline always manages to push you through anyway. The door creaks and more light floods in when he shifts away. 

“Come talk to me if you need to after practise. But for now, just come back and finish for today, okay? I’ll see you inside.”

He stays still for a few moments, before the sound of his shoes shuffle away from the storage room. Leaning your head back against the wall, you let the humidity coat your face like a layer of warmth. 

Why’d he have to give me that stupid pep-talk?

Shutting your eyes tightly, you recall the amount of effort you took to audition for this. A stage where BTS would perform on, and they were looking for a small group of girls in the back-up dancers’ team. The chances were ten to... hundreds. 

You shuffle to your feet, eyelids heavy from the physical activity but heart still full of hope. Your fingers wrap around the cold handle of the door and push it open, greeting the bright lights that illuminate the corridor down to the practice hall.

“Where is-- Oh! There you are!” The choreographer nearly yells into the mic when you rush through the door, some of your other dance crew mates jokingly yells at you for taking your own sweet time. 

“Sorry, bathroom.”

“Okay, okay. GIve us a head up if you’re going to do a number 2 next time, would you?”

Some of the dancers chuckle at the choreographer’s teasing, nudging you or ruffling your hair before they return to their positions. And as you do, you cannot help but to lock eyes with the vice-captain in the front row. He had the tiniest smile you’ve ever seen, the kind that if you didn’t stare hard enough... or if you didn’t pay enough attention... you’d miss it. 

A small nods finds you, eyes of encouragement welling up in his brown orbs under the lighting, and then the choreographer asks for the music. It thrums through you like an Earthquake, but instead of conjuring magma and ash and gas, it sucks the passion out of you and motivates you to move your feet again. 

The practise session ends fast, only because you realised you had been enjoying it. So when the choreographer thanks the dance crew and jumps off to speak to the captain, you take your time to grab a drink for yourself and let some other crew members chat you up. 

That is, until you noticed the vice-captain strutting out of the practise hall quietly. Excusing yourself, you grab your belongings and rush out behind him, just missing the lift that he was in. 

He’s about twenty metres ahead when you run out of the stairs lobby, the cool end-of-winter wind kissing your sweaty skin.

“Minho!” 

The boy stops in his tracks, taking awhile to look up from his phone as he slowly turns his head around. He watches with intent eyes as you catch up to him, gently huffing from the hurrying after he quietly left the practice hall.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t disappoint me,” Minho looks back down at his phone before locking it. “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come back.” 

Once you’ve aligned your footing with him, he shoves his phone into his pocket and waits for you to calm your breathing. The sky was dark now, but the streets were still bustling from all the night market activities - fried seafood, crackers, cotton candy. 

Minho turns his head back to the streets where waves of people were walking past, taking a first step to tell you he’s going to start walking. 

“I just wanted to thank you for that little pep-talk.”

“Pep-talk?” Minho chuckles under his breath. “Oh, you don’t know what a pep-talk sounds like.”

The crowd washes the both of you in some direction, the scent of food wafting in the air coupled with the overlapping conversations and loud music from some stands made you feel like you’ve just entered some amusement park. Smoke was prancing in the air against the night sky and people chewing loudly on food brought you some strange sense of nostalgia -- though you’ve walked this exact road for some months now. It just so happened that the night market only came round every Lunar New Year. 

“I just... I hope you know how much that means to me. It’s the first time I’ve done something of this scale so... it seems easier for me to lose faith.”

Minho stops at a particular store selling some honey-glazed apples and orders two. It’s like he didn’t hear you. 

Standing awkwardly next to him, the store owner carelessly hands Minho the two sticks with the stabbed apple on the top, and he doesn’t hesitate to hand her a five dollar bill. Just enough.

“Thank you,” He turns around, the store owner barely acknowledging his business. “People lose faith all the time. You just need to know when to force yourself to have it again.” 

Handing you one stick, Minho doesn’t wait for you to process the offer and his words simultaneously before he’s off again. By the time you’ve walked the length of the night market and reach the main streets of the city, Minho has cleared every drop of honey and apple on the stick, and you were just busy finishing up the last one-eighth of it, the bite nearly touching your fingers. 

At the bus stop, Minho drops himself on the bench, scrolling through his phone as you are occupied with licking the honey off your fingers while you find the nearest trashcan. Ironically, out here along the main road, there were fewer people. More traffic on the road, definitely. But it’s like everybody was so busy living their lives, you’ve forgotten to live yours. 

You’ve spent more than half your time in the last three months coming to this same practise hall, dancing the same steps over and over and over again until every cell in your blood and body knows it by heart. 

But what worth is it? For a performance that you wouldn’t even be seen?

You sigh, eyes darting downwards naturally to see what he’s been staring at on his phone-- then you see it. 

NEW EMAIL: CUBE AUDITION RESULTS

Your eyes widen, lips somehow still stuck together despite the overwhelming excitement in your lungs. Sucking your lips in between your teeth, you watch in anticipation as he clicks the notification and it directs him to his email. Poor boy doesn’t know you’re watching, but it’s a good thing, because the first two sentences were enough to tell you what his reaction could be. 

Dear Lee Minho, we’ve received your audition tape and reviewed it carefully. Unfortunately, we are unable to accept you as a trainee. We wish you the best in all your future endeavors. 

Regards,

Cube Audition Management

Biting down on your bottom lip, your eyes quickly flit away when he closes the app and keeps his phone. Standing next to him, it’s a wonder how he’s managed to hold himself together. If it had been you who was rejected, you’d be on the floor bawling by now. But Minho’s strength is subtly concrete when he only watches his bus arrive, standing up and only turning around to ask, “Are you taking the same bus?”

“Um, yeah but my dad’s coming to get me, so I’m waiting here.”

Minho nods, the bus stopping right at the foot of the bus stop. Other passengers waiting for the bus start to crowd, but Minho doesn’t bust an inch just yet. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

You hum in response. They’ve started boarding, so Minho’s taking small steps towards the vehicle. 

“If you don’t come, believe me when I say I’ll whoop your ass.”

You can’t help the small scoff that bursts through your lips when he says it, that tiny smile of his emerging shyly on his face for a split second. Reducing the amount of time you get to admire that strength in him, he turns and gets on the bus. 

[D E C E M B E R 2 0 1 6]

At this point, half the dance crew was probably crying their hearts out back stage. BTS’ Fire and Not Today performance at the KBS Song Festival was the last official time you would be performing as one unit with this dance crew. Any Fire or Not Today performances in the future would call for a renewed or changed dance crew line-up, which meant you’ll never see the same group of people on stage again. 

Heck, even your captain was sobbing his eyes out, mercilessly pulling everybody he could find into a hug and muttering some incoherent words of gratitude in their ears. You were laughing and wiping away the droplets on your face, unsure if they were tears or sweat, when he came to you and pulled you into a bear hug. 

Everybody hears the heavy backstage door close and BTS shows up just steps from you, and the group of idols know very well that this was the last performance with the current line-up of crew members. 

“Dul, set, Bang! Tan!” More people are crying now, and Namjoon just looks prouder than he was sad. “Annyeong haseyo, Bangtansonyeondan ibnida.”

The captain literally starts wining, not hesitating to go up and hug Hoseok tightly. The members embrace him in the hug, offering him words of praise and compliment as Namjoon urges them to keep their volume down. The leader thanks the crew for the enduring hardwork for the past year - from when the track was first released, to the first choreography reviewing and then the constant performances on all kinds of stages. 

Blinking away your tears, you manage to catch Minho standing at the far end of the first row, and if you weren’t mistaken, you could catch Jimin showing him two thumbs up. 

“I hope to see all of you around, and once again, BTS thanks you for your hardwork for the last year. Take care everybody!” 

Everybody erupts into loud yells of ‘thanks’ and ‘bye’s, but before you can the other crew members in shaking their hands as they return to their dressing room, one of BTS’ assistant managers approach you.

“Hi, can I check if you’re y/n?”

“Uh--” Minho catches your frantic glancing behind the assistant manager. “Yes.”

“Great, so...” The assistant manager fumbles in his back pocket, your eyes darting down to notice him pulling out a name card. Your peripheral vision presents you with Minho looking at you from behind the assistant manager, eyes and ears peeled. “We’ve been monitoring the dance unit and... we think you might have potential.”

He hands you the name card, and your hands are trembling when you process the carbon printing on it.

BIGHIT CASTING

Anxious, you look back up at the assistant manager. Yet, he offers you a mere smile before walking away, leaving you and Minho behind as the rest of the crew pushes themselves nearer to the back of the staff area. 

The restaurant had been booked for the sole purpose of the dance unit celebrating your final performance there, and while the card was being bent in all sorts of different ways in your back pocket, all you cared about was being in a moment.

BigHit casting? Why would you even subject yourself to that kind of torment? A solid 7 to 8 years of no privacy, probably no dating, and if you were caught outside with someone of the opposite gender, you’d be royally screwed over.

“You’re going to get drunk.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re not even legal to drink, and it sucks, honestly.”

“Pfft,” Rolling your eyes, you collect the shot of Soju from one of the older crew members. “I’ll take like five shots. I’ll be fine.”

Minho glares at his captain, thoughtlessly pushing the shot across the smooth surface of the table to you. 

“You know she’s like, 16 right?”

“I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to let her try some. Besides, we all did a great job this past year. I think we all deserve a little break.”

Minho huffs, the air pushing his fringe upwards for a split second. He watches you down the shot, the burning alcohol forcing a look of slight disgust on your face. 

“Told you you wouldn’t like it.”

“Ugh,” Sticking your tongue out, you reach for your glass of water and take a huge gulp. “I’ll get used to it.”

Nah.

“My God, why are you so heavy?” Minho grunts, struggling to keep your arm over his shoulders. He looks behind him, busking in some slight satisfaction when he had managed to get the captain completely wasted by playing some stupid game with him, the kind that he would never win. The other vice-captain and another crew member were channeling all that effort into keeping the big-sized boy on his feet. You remember hearing Minho’s hearty (or evil) laughter when the captain plops to the floor, completely blacking out. 

“Okay, he’s your responsibility now!” He yells at the top of his lungs, dragging you towards the nearest bus stop in his knowledge.

“Go fuck yourself, Minho! Have some mercy next time, would you?!” HIs co-vice captain shouts back.

“I’ll think about it!” Minho laughs, trying really hard not to drop you as he waves back. 

“Bye, see you soon!”

Minho returns his attention to you, half your body already leaning a good ninety degrees towards the floor. 

“Free bows for the floor, huh?” He grunts as he gives up on holding just one of your arms. Afraid that he was going to dislocate something, he pulls you onto his back. Your head is pressed into his shoulder when he turns round the corner, eyes looking up to gauge the distance to the bus stop. “Oi.”

“Hmm?” Your head of messy hair perks up from his shoulder, your eyelids feeling too heavy to keep open. 

“Are you going for it? The audition I mean.”

You groan, throwing your head back into his shoulder. Tightening your arms around his collar, you grit your teeth and swallow the burning sensation of alcohol in your throat. 

“I don’t think I want to think about that now. I have school to worry about.”

“You’ll just be put into SOPA.”

“What about university?”

“That’s like 3 years away for you. And studying can wait if you’re chasing your dream,” A pause as he sets you down at the bus stop, grabbing your bag and searching for your wallet to take out your bus card. “Of course, only if you want it.”

Your head hangs low, the Soju zipping through your blood like hamsters do in their tunnels. Minho turns, spotting the bus nearing.

“Do me a favour and swallow your vomit if you need to, don’t make a mess in the bus.”

[O C T O B E R 2 0 1 7]

Do you know the feeling of your lungs collapsing in on themselves when you can’t breathe? When your heart is palpitating so fast, it feels like it’s stopped? 

“I don’t know why you guys are treating it like it’s a huge thing-- I might not even make it.”

“Shut the fuck up, would you? You signed up for it, shouldn’t you put your 100% and go as far as you can?”

The words can’t find their way out of your mouth. Minho was sitting in his sofa, petting Soon-ie, with a huge duffel bag at his feet. You were sitting in Minho’s living room, with Doongie curled up in your lap and the dance captain from BTS’ Fire and Not Today performance dance unit about to swing a fist in Minho’s face. 

An awkward silence fell upon the three of you, knowing that this could be the start of a friendship with a changed dynamic. You were one foot into BigHit because you’ve passed the first audition, Minho was going on JYP’s Stray Kids survival show and your dance-captain was being scouted into Yuehua’s waters.

The morning sun gushes down onto your faces when Minho’s father rushes to get the car ready, leaving the three of you at the entrance of the carpark. Your dance captain had an audition appointment with Yuehua soon, so he pulls Minho into a tight hug and provides him a harsh pat on the back.

“Make us proud.”

Minho doesn’t respond, only nodding subtly before sending him off. 

But you? You are reluctant to even look at him. If he wins that show, he’d be gone for more days and months than you can count. No longer would he spend his Christmases and New Years with you, but with his group members. His cats wouldn’t be meowing for his attention, because he’s not at home anymore.

What’s worse, if you get through BigHit’s third audition, you’ll be thrown into a girl group. 

And Godforsake a girl group member being seen with a boy group member, right?

“You could be a little more enthusiastic, y’know.”

“How can I be enthusiastic when I’m watching you strut your ass off into unchartered territory?”

Minho smiles, his bunny teeth unafraid to expose themselves. You can see his father’s car coming out, the ache in your heart getting harder and harder to ignore. 

“I’ll come back to find you, or maybe BigHit, I don’t know,” Minho gently pulls you into a hug, careful to keep his hands on your upper back and shoulders. “But I will always come back to you.”

[sincerelyella]

It’s Your Love - happy birthday Burnsy!

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Drake x OC (Alyssa); Liam x MC (Ella)

Song Inspiration: It’s Your Love by Tim McGraw & Faith Hill

Characters belong to Pixelberry; OC Alyssa Devereaux belongs to my sister @burnsoslow​; Ella Brooks belongs to me.

Summary: The gang coordinates a surprise for Alyssa’s birthday.

A/N: It’s my Burnsy’s birthday and I’m sure everything I’m going to say she already knows! Firstly, I’m so sorry I changed my mind about which AU and which song for this fic like 47545024 million trillion times. Burns just freaking gets me mmkay? She’s my nakie twin, my soul sister, my football bestie and my biggest cheerleader. GUYS! Idk how I could have gotten through this year without her checking in on me, our football conversations or her amazing (and haaawwwwt) fics. Some dialogue in this fic, btw, was taken from a conversation we really had (and as usual, she is hilarious).

Burns, you know that I love you a BUTT TON and I will fight ANYBODY for you (where’s my vaseline?!) Thank you for always being in my corner, for giving me SEVERAL pep talks this year (because I’m dramatic), for believing in me when I sometimes didn’t believe in myself, and for loving me SO HARD. I really hope you have an amazing day and you enjoy your bday dessert and that you like this little fic.

-> please note, this is a rereblog and I am adding this fic to my ML. Today is not actually our sweet Burnsy’s birthday even though we would all like it to be lol

A/N2: This is set in The Loft AU by the way! Check it out here if you haven’t seen these guys’ shenanigans.

Warnings: Adult language, sexual innuendos, and major fluff guys!! The birthday girl wanted to be swooned and I will do my damndest to give her whatever she wants today.

Thank you so much @alyssalauren​ for letting me vent and letting me harass you with my whining … and listening to me change my mind about this for WEEKS - and also prereading for me along with @ofpixelsandscribbles​. I love you guys so much!

Words: 3149 (oops)

Alyssa was not feeling well. The more she coughed, the more she felt like death. “Oh, God, I feel like my brain is going to explode into itty bitty pieces,” she moaned with her arm draped over her face.

Drake bit his lip in an effort to stop a chuckle. She’s so fucking cute, and whiny. But cute. “Baby, it’s just a cold, you’ll be fine.” He slid onto their large king-sized bed and began to rub her lower back.

“It’s not! It’s the plague! Those kids at school don’t cover their mouths and sneeze up into the air! Like, I can see particles of their spit, just wafting,” she complained as she waved her hand in the air, mimicking the particles. “I bet you it landed on me or I inhaled that shit and now, look at me!” Her cute nose was reddened slightly from blowing out copious amounts of snot. She was seriously thinking about shoving some tissue in each nostril just to make sure nothing dripped.

Drake moved his hands upward and massaged her shoulders gently. “I can make you some soup,” he nibbled on her earlobe. “And make you feel … relaxed.”

“Mmmm,” she shivered at his words and sniffled. “Yes, baby, make me feel relaxed!”

A little while later

After Drake’s impressive two hour session of making Alyssa feel better, loud knocks sounded at their bedroom door.

“Lyssa!” Ella bellowed. “Lyss, you’re not answering my phone calls! Are you dead?!”

“No,” she croaked from the bed and stifled a laugh when Drake tripped trying to put on his boxers. “I was just getting my back blown out by my hot boyfriend.”

“Ew, TMI! Okay, are you covered up? I’m coming in!”

“No!” Drake yelled as he hurriedly threw on his pants. “Do not come in here, Brooks! I’m fucking naked!”

“Like I haven’t seen a naked man before,” Ella pushed open the door and rolled her eyes at Drake. “You aren’t even naked, Walker, get a grip.”

“No damn privacy around here,” he grumbled as he looked for a shirt in the closet.

“Hi!” Alyssa called out hoarsely from the bed as she tucked her comforter around her naked body. “I didn’t go to work today, I felt like death was coming for me.”

“I could hear you coughing from the kitchen. So, your blood pressure and that gnarly cough you have are what’s concerning me.”

“Yeah,” Lyss frowned and sniffed. “The cough is rough.”

“And gunky huh? Are you spitting up weird colored stuff?”

“No, it's clear and phlegmy!”

Ella narrowed her eyes on her best friend. “Lyss, did you take your blood pressure today?”

“I … umm no, I don’t like the machine.”

Ella let out a sigh. “You have to babe!”

Lyss’s bottom lip quivered. “I get scared my arm will explode.”

“Lyssa.”

The lip quiver always works with Drake. “… yes?”

“Your arm won’t explode.”

“If it malfunctions it could!”

Ella rubbed her hands over her face. “Alyssa!”

“In one of the Halloween movies, Michael Myers killed someone in the hospital by putting a BP cuff around their neck and pumping it until their head exploded!”

“What the fuck? Okay, no more Halloween movies for you!”

“But-”

“It’s not going to explode, Alyssa. You need to take your blood pressure. Do I have to hogtie you?”

“No ma’am, I’m taller than you!”

“By ½ an inch!”

Ella switched tactics. “If you don’t do this, I’m going to get Drake on you.”

Lyss giggled. “That’s hardly a punishment.”

Ella’s eye twitched and Alyssa held back a laugh.

After another 10 minutes, Alyssa finally agreed to only check her blood pressure if Ella did it for her and Drake had to hold her hand. Once the numbers were acceptable to Ella, Alyssa added to her terms. “Also, I want chicken noodle soup and those little soup crackers” - she sniffled - “and coffee.”

“Why not tea? That’s better I think,” Ella brushed some hair off of her best friend’s forehead.

“Coffee.”

“Cream isn’t a good idea for-”

Drake gave Ella a look.

“I mean … sure!”

“I’ll get started on that, baby,” Drake leaned over to kiss his girlfriend on top of her head. “Be right back.”

Ella waited until he closed the bedroom door behind him. “Lyssa.”

“Hmm?” She was already settled into the fluffy pillow and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Do you have a fever?” Not waiting for an answer, Ella leaned forward and felt Alyssa’s forehead with the back of her hand.

“Nu-uh,” Lyss mumbled and coughed.

“Lyss?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you want to put on some clothes?”

“Mmm, nope, I’m good naked.”

Ella chuckled. “Okay.”

She stood and left Lyss alone to rest. Ella wandered into the kitchen to find Liam and Drake as they stared into a large pot of broth.

“Is she asleep?” Drake asked while he stirred.

“Yep, she’s passed out,” Ella peered into the pot. “You need to add more onions.”

Drake tasted the broth again and shrugged. “Okay, more onions it is.”

Liam handed Drake the bowl of green onions. “So, what do you have planned for her birthday? Are you proposing yet?”

“I had planned to take her to the park and have a picnic,” Drake paused as he tasted the broth again from the ladle. “But seeing as how she’s not wanting to leave the bedroom, I might have to rethink my plan.”

“Hmmm,” Liam tapped his fingers over his mouth. “Why don’t you just have a picnic in the bedroom with her?”

“I guess,” Drake frowned. “That’s not very romantic.”

“You’re trying to be romantic, Walker?” Leo said as he walked into the kitchen with Maxwell with several bags from Nordstrom.

“Yeah, I am, if you must know.”

“I can help you out!” Leo’s wide grin made Drake narrow his eyes.

“What’s in it for you, Rys?”

“Oh, I just love helping my friends! Let me put all my stuff down in the bedroom, I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Leo was out of earshot, Drake hissed. “I don’t trust him!”

“I know,” Max replied. “It’s Leo we’re talking about. After he saw the movie Titanic he started the Billy Zane fan club.”

Ella stopped washing the dishes in the sink and turned. “Wait, what?!”

“Yeah,” Liam added. “Look it up, they’re called the Zaniacs.”

“Why does that make me angrier than anything he’s ever done?!”

Liam shrugged. “He also roots for Billy Zabka’s character in The Karate Kid.”

“Alright, guys! It’s romance time!” Leo announced as he came back to the kitchen.

Three days later

Leo, Maxwell, and Liam were busy setting up things for Drake and Alyssa’s outing at the beach.

“Why is Ella not helping us?” Maxwell huffed as he and Leo carried large boxes of twinkling lights.

“She’s here for Lyss, and to make sure Walker doesn’t sweat too much and get dehydrated,” Leo laughed as all three looked at Drake in the kitchen pacing back and forth.

“Fuck you guys,” his chocolate brown hair a mess after running his fingers through them more times than he can count. “I’m just … nervous.”

“Yeah, we can see that,“ Leo cackled as they walked out into the hallway and waited for the elevator.

“It’s going to work,” Liam reassured his best friend as he grabbed the guitar by the door and followed Max and Leo out.

“Drake, it’s going to be fine,” Ella put her hands on his shoulders to stop him from wandering around the kitchen; it was making her dizzy. “Liam is the King of Romance. Don’t listen to Leo, Alyssa is going to say yes.”

“How do you know that?” He began to babble and couldn’t stop himself. “What if this is too soon? What if she hates my singing? What if she says no?”

“You should be worried about whether she’ll get out of bed,” Ella looked towards the bedroom door.

“Oh my God, is she still in bed?!” He inhaled too quickly and began to cough.

“Okay, Walker, I was kidding. You know she adores you. She said ‘I love you’ first for crying out loud,” she gave him a concerned look. “Are you getting sick?”

“No, I don’t … get sick,” he sputtered as he continued to cough.

“Well you are pretty delicate, maybe you should slow down.”

He waved off her comment as his coughs began to dissipate. “I’m not delicate, I’m just” - he lowered his voice to a whisper yell - “proposing to my girlfriend and I don’t even know if she’s going to like this damn plan!”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Okay, so let’s just forget that you got sick watching Frozen.”

Drake glared. “No. I did not.”

“You also got a nosebleed watching Up,” she smirked.

“Oh my God, will you ever let that go?!”

Ella let out a chuckle. “Okay, fine then, why don’t you go and take a shower?”

“I already did,” Drake looked down at his sweat-stained shirt.

“Yeah, why don’t you go and take another one.”

He nodded. “Be right back.”

30 minutes later

“El! I need help!”

“Lyssa? What’s wrong?” Ella let herself into the bedroom Alyssa and Drake shared.

“My sinuses hurt and I dropped my dress and my book on the floor.”

“Okay?”

“Can you pick it up for me? It hurts to bend over.”

Ella hid a smile and bent to pick up Alyssa’s black dress and her book titled Remember Two Things. “I’ve been meaning to read this, how is it so far?”

“Oh it is so good,” Lyss put the book on her nightstand and pulled the dress over her head. “I’m at chapter 18 and these two have been in love since college-”

“No spoilers! I’m going to read it after you,” Ella found Lyss’ shoes under the bed and helped her put them on. “You take that medication I gave you?”

“The pill was too big.”

“Alyssa!”

“I’m kidding, yes, I took it,” she dimpled. “It was a gel capsule.”

Ella let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. You don’t need your sinuses to act up while you’re out.”

“Where is he taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Alyssa pouted. “No, I don’t.”

Drake appeared in the doorway with a brand new shirt that was miraculously dry. “Ready baby?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” she stood and wrapped her arms around her best friend. “Thank you for helping me!”

Ella shooed the couple out the door and quickly called Liam to let them know they were on their way.

***

“Baby, why did you take another shower?” Alyssa eyed Drake’s damp hair.

“I … slipped in something Max spilled on the floor in the kitchen.” Fuck, I suck at lying.

“Oh,” Lyss chewed on her bottom lip and studied Drake’s side profile as he drove his truck through the streets of Los Angeles. “I was thinking … you’ve taken such good care of me while I’ve been whiny and sick and I wanted to thank you.”

“Of course, I care about you.”

“I love you, baby, I feel like we’re so good together.”

“We are, Lyss, I love you too,” he reached over and intertwined his fingers with hers.

Drake slowly pulled the truck into a parking spot and turned off the engine. “Come on, I have something I want to show you.”

Alyssa nodded. She hopped out of the car and took Drake’s outstretched hand as he led her into a walkway with arching shrubs above them. “What is this place?”

“It used to be a secret spot I went to when I was single,” he glanced down at her while she stared up at the greenery in awe. “I would just come down here to be alone.”

Suddenly, the archway lit up in thousands of little twinkling lights that illuminated their way down to the end of the walkway. “Oh my God,” Alyssa squealed. “I love this so much, it’s beautiful!” They came to the end of the lights and began to walk onto sand.

“Only a little bit further,” Drake mumbled as he took in the ocean, then focused his gaze on the large purple blanket that was sprawled out on the sand a few yards in front of them.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a little picnic the guys set up for us,” he gave Alyssa a nervous smile. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes! What’s for dinner?”

“Taco pizza and for dessert,” Drake excitedly climbed onto the blanket after removing his shoes. “S’mores brownie pie.”

“S’mores?!” Alyssa peeked into the large basket that held the pie. “Can we eat dessert first?”

Drake let out a loud laugh. “Whatever you want, baby it’s your birthday.”

Lyss opened the box where the taco pizza sat and she inhaled deeply. “Oh, no, we’re eating this first.” She grabbed a plate and separated two pieces, one for her, one for Drake.

“Thank you.”

They settled into a comfortable silence as they watched the waves cascade over the sand; the sun was slowly fading, disappearing behind the ocean, leaving its yellow-orange coloring over the blue hue of the water. Alyssa was sitting in between Drake’s legs, her back against his chest.

“This hit the spot,” she patted her stomach. “Taco pizza just like in Remember Two Things.”

“That’s where I got the idea from,” he kissed her on top of her head. “You told me how taco pizza sounded amazing and I had to get that for you.”

“You are amazing,” she leaned her head back and touched her lips to his. “Is that a guitar? Why didn’t I notice that before?”

Drake’s face turned a bright shade of red. “Uh, yeah, I had Liam bring his guitar out here.”

“Do you” - she pulled away from him and turned all the way around with widened eyes - “do you play guitar, baby?”

He nervously scratched the back of his neck. “I … Well, sort of. Liam taught me when we were teenagers.”

“That is so hot,” Lyss mumbled and she bit her bottom lip. “Will you play for me?”

Drake nodded. “Hopefully I’m not too rusty, it’s been years.”

“I know I will love it.”

Drake picked up the acoustic guitar behind him and began to tune it. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he went through each string and turned the knobs in turn. Alyssa watched as he dug into his jean pocket and pulled out a guitar pick. How is a man with a guitar so sexy?

“Here goes nothing.”

He strummed the guitar and smiled when it didn’t sound off-key. He took in a deep breath and began to sing.

Dancing in the dark, Middle of the night

Taking your heart, And holding it tight

Emotional touch, Touching my skin

And askin' you to do, What you've been doing

All over again

Alyssa was taken aback. She had no idea he played guitar or sang a note until today. Drake Walker singing country music just did something to her; not to mention the fact that she loved this song.

Oh, it's a beautiful thing, Don't think I can keep it all in

I just gotta let you know, What it is that won't let me go

She couldn’t stop herself, she started to sing along with him. It was a duet anyway.

It's your love, It just does something to me

It sends a shock right through me, I can't get enough

And if you wonder, About the spell I'm under

Oh it's your love

Their eyes were locked as they sang together. Alyssa harmonizing with him made his stomach do flip flops. He was a nervous wreck just thinking about singing and playing this damn guitar in front of her. But once she started to sing, he wanted to stop so he could hear her angelic voice instead of his rough one.

“Drake?”

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize I stopped.”

“That was so beautiful,” Lyss’ eyes were full of unshed tears. “I had no idea you could sing, baby.”

“I’m sorry I stopped, I wanted to hear your voice instead of mine.”

“Come on, let’s keep going!”

“I … I wanted to ask you something first.”

“Okay, what’s up?”

He set the guitar down on the blanket next to him and reached into his other pocket. “Lyssa,” he pulled out a black velvet box but didn’t open his hand just yet. “I wanted to make your birthday special, and I was so fucking nervous because I didn’t know if you’d like all this.”

“Anything we do together I love, baby,” she grasped his free hand with both of hers. “Don’t ever think I won’t like something you plan for us.”

Drake nodded. “I love you and I chose that song because it’s your love that keeps me wanting to wake up every morning,” he opened his left hand and she saw the box in his hand.

“Is that …”

“Alyssa Devereaux,” Drake opened the ring box and there sat three round diamonds on a gold setting. “Will you marry me?”

The tears were falling and one hand was clamped over her mouth in shock. She was crying so hard and overwhelmed with so much emotion that she struggled to speak. “Y-yes, Drake, yes!”

Drake’s entire face lit up at her words; he slid the ring on her finger and leaned over to kiss her. “Do you have any idea how happy you’ve made me?”

Cheers erupted from behind some bushes behind them, and the couple turned in surprise. Leo, Maxwell, Liam, and Ella jumped out, all with their phone cameras pointed in Drake and Lyss’s direction.

Drake scowled. “What the fuck?”

“Guys!” Alyssa jumped up and waved her left hand in the air. “We’re engaged!” Ella pulled her in for a big hug and the two of them began jumping up and down.

“Nice going, Walker,” Leo smirked as he shoved the last piece of taco pizza in his mouth. “You still sing real pretty too, just like in middle school.”

“Fuck off, Rys,” Drake snarled.

“You did good, brother,” Liam stepped forward and pulled his best friend in for a manly hug.

Drake gave him a half-smile. “Thanks for setting this up, and for all your help, Li. I know Twiddle-Dumb and Twiddle-Dee didn’t help much.”

Liam shrugged. “They picked up your pizza and pie. Got one for themselves while we were waiting for you to pop the question.”

“Taco pizza is the bomb,” Maxwell announced with a mouth full of food. “You guys are engaged! When’s the wedding?!”

“We’re still on cloud nine from being engaged, Max,” Alyssa chuckled. “We’ll all plan it out when we’re ready.”

“All of them?” Drake asked incredulously as the gang began to clean up the picnic area. “All of them are helping us plan?”

“You’re stuck with us forever, gorgeous,” Leo called out to Lyss. “You sure that’s what you want?”

Alyssa looked over at her fiancé, who just so happened to look at her. “I am so sure.”

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 12

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2588

Warnings:  Pregnancy, mentions of past child abuse

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 12: Confrontations

It took a lot of legal toing and froing to get to an agreed time for my parents to come.  They were reluctant to agree to the terms of having lawyers present or having the meeting here at their expense.  They ended up agreeing to everything because, in the end, it was them wanting something from me, not the other way around.  By the time it was all arranged and the meeting was happening my morning sickness had well and truly kicked in.

There were now three of us with morning sickness and it made for some awkward mornings.  For starters, we could set each other off.  If Natasha or I had morning sickness, it always made Wanda’s worse.  Natasha could hear someone throwing up, but if she saw it, we had to move or she’d be throwing up on top of us.  It was a good thing we had lots of bathrooms, and it was becoming a little more common for the three of us to decide not to spend the whole night together for fear of setting each other off in the morning.  Not always, we usually had a little warning before it got bad, but if there had a few days in a row where we were all very ill, we would take a break.

A whole array of temporary house rules had been established because different things set us off.  Coffee had to be drunk in the kitchen away from me and Wanda.  All the shampoo and conditioner was now unscented and we had found exactly one brand of soap we could agree on.  Bucky and Tony weren’t allowed to wear their preferred aftershave.  No bacon at all in the house.

On the day I was supposed to meet with them I woke up and immediately dashed to the bathroom, emptying my stomach of its contents and then just dry heaving.  Bruce followed me in, having shifted into just Bruce.  While I threw up he held my hair back off my face and when it was clear I had nothing left he wet a washcloth with cold water and wiped my brow and down the back of my neck.

“It seems extra bad today,” he said.  “I missed it last time.  Is this just how it is or are you stressed about today and it's making it worse?”

I shook my head and pressed my forehead to the cold tiles on the wall.  “It was bad last time too, but I was also stressed then, wasn't I?”

“Right,” he said.  “Of course.  What can I do?”

“Help me up?” I asked.

He helped me to my feet and started the shower.  I ran my fingers through the threads from me to the others.  My morning sickness had set Wanda’s off and Sam was currently with her as she threw up in the bathroom down the hall.  Natasha was in bed with Clint and Bucky all of them were awake and she wasn’t feeling great.  Steve and Tony were downstairs with the twins, while Thor was just getting up.  He appeared in the bathroom and began to strip his underwear off.

“Perhaps I should go to Asgard and get some elixir for the three of you.  It works much better for nausea than the pills you’ve been taking,” he said.

“That might be a good idea,” I agreed as I stepped into the water.

Bruce and Thor followed me in and Bruce grabbed the shampoo and began to work it through my hair.  “Are you sure you want to go through with this today?”  Bruce asked.

I shook my head.  “No,” I said, feeling myself tense up again, even as Bruce’s fingers worked over my scalp.  “But I’m going to anyway.  Better I end this.”

Thor cradled my jaw and tilted my head up to look him in the eyes.  “You are in the position of power now,” he said.  “Do not let them return you to that frightened child you once were.  You are not that little girl anymore and stressing so much is not good for the baby.”

I gave a small nod and he leaned down and brought his lips to mine.  I relaxed into him and Bruce kissed my shoulder gently.  I pulled back and sighed. There was a huge part of me that wanted to forget everything.  To just have shower sex so that it might chase off the last of my nausea and then to head downstairs and have a nice normal day with the people I’d chosen to spend it with.  Instead, I ran my hand down Thor’s chest and gave a small nod.  “Okay.  I better get a move on.”

I showered and took a long time deciding what I wanted to wear.  The last time my parents had seen me in person I was 16 and goth.  I didn’t know if right now the image I wanted to go for was professional or more me.  I didn’t want to give them a reason to think for a second I was there in a casual capacity.  I didn’t want them to have a reason to pick at me.  But at the same time, I didn’t want them to think I’d turned out to be the person they wanted me to be.

I ended up opting to dress how I wanted to.  This wasn’t a trial.  This was my parents and they needed to see me how I was now.  I put on a black romper with a sheer duster that attached at the waist and had a Maleficent print.  I did my hair and makeup and headed downstairs to breakfast with Thor and Bruce who had now shifted into his midway form.  Wanda was in the dining room eating a millet porridge next to Sam who had a plate of eggs and sausage.  The kids were in the living area watching cartoons with Clint, Bucky, and the puppies, while Steve, Natasha, and Tony sat on the couches near the spiral staircases.

Steve, Tony, and Natasha stood as I came down and followed me over to the table.  “You’re sure you want to do this?”  Steve asked.

I took a seat and grabbed myself some toast and chuckled.  “Already had this conversation today.” 

“Right,” Steve said.  “Well.  Just remember we’re all up here if you need us. Whatever you decide to do, we’ll support you.”

“Thank you, Steve,” I said and sipped my tea.  “You’re making it sound like I’m going to negotiate for national security.”

He chuckled and rubbed my arm.  “I know, sweetheart,” he said.  “But I know how anxious this has made you.  It’s a big deal.”

“Thanks,” I repeated.  “I don’t think I can handle another pep talk though.  I just want it over with.”

“Have they arrived yet, FRIDAY?”  Natasha asked.

“They’re just going through security now,” the AI replied.

Bruce seemed to panic a little and just started shoving food into his mouth.  I laughed and patted his arm.  “Relax.  They can wait.  Take your time.”

“Thanks, El,” he chuckled and slowed back down again.

It took a little while for Bruce to finish eating and it made me spitefully happy thinking about my dad trying not to lose his mind while I made him wait.  When he was done everyone stood and they walked me to the elevator.

“If they want money, you can give it to them,” Tony said, just as the elevator door opened.  “Pay them off and get them out of your life again.”

I shook my head.  “I don’t want that, Tony,” I said. “If they want money, they’re out of my life.”

He nodded and he, Natasha, and Steve kissed me goodbye, and Wanda, Bruce, and I caught the elevator down.  Wanda took my hand wordlessly, and when she did that, Bruce placed a large hand on my back so that his fingers curled around my side.  The elevator stopped and we were greeted by three of Tony’s legal team.

“Doctor Cooper, your parents are waiting through here,” one said and led us through into the conference room.

My mom and dad and their lawyer stood as soon as we came in.  They’d aged so much since I’d seen them.  Dad was going bald and his hair was more grey than brown, and mom was clearly dying her hair.  Seeing them, even as different as they looked, only made me think of him hitting me and her telling me that's just how men were and I should expect it from my husband too.  There was no thread between me and my father and the one to my mother was so faint I wasn't sure if I was imagining it or not.  I knew then it didn't matter what else happened today, these people weren't my family, and I wasn't going to let them back in my life.  Not how they were.

“Elise,” mom said, taking a step forward and holding out her hands.

One of our lawyers cleared his throat.  “We have organized this meeting at the request of Mr. and Mrs. Cooper but it should be clear, Doctor Cooper has no desire to rekindle any kind of relationship with her abusers.”

“Elise...” my mother said, furrowing her brow.

I took a seat and everyone else sat down too, Wanda and Bruce flanking me on each side.

“Well, here I am,” I said.  “Tell me what it is you want.”

Mom looked at dad who just folded his arms over his chest.  “We want our daughter back,” Mom said.  “You ran away, we didn’t kick you out.”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.  “I left because he was beating me and you were grooming me.”

“Honey, I know your father could lose his temper…” Mom implored.

I felt Bruce tense and he leaned forward over the table.  “No, I think you’re mistaken.  I can lose my temper.  Your husband beats helpless children,” he growled and balled his fist.

My parents blanched and scooted back in their chairs.  I placed my hand on his arm as he sat back in the chair.  Mom looked at dad and nudged him.  He scowled and let out a breath in a huff.

“Elise, you know I love you,” he said.  “I’m sorry for the things I did.  I was sorry when I did them.  I want us to have a relationship.”

“Uh-huh,” I said.  “And despite the fact that for over six years where I was has been a topic of media coverage, and for the six years before that, I wasn’t even hiding and had my name on academic papers but you’ve only chosen now I’ve married one of the richest men on the planet to try and get in contact, that’s a coincidence?”

“It’s not a coincidence,” he said.  “We saw you get married and we realized we should have been there.”

“So you could be seen hobnobbing with the rich and powerful?”  I hissed.

Wanda put her hand on my arm and I looked at her, her eyes glowed pink.  ‘He’s not exactly lying.  There are some things there about the connections they could make, but they have missed you,’ she sent.

‘Have they changed?’ I sent back and she shrugged in response.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  “I don’t think I want that,” I said.  “What you did to me, how I was the family scapegoat, the way you would hurt me and then buy my forgiveness, how you’d make me lie to people about my injuries so you wouldn’t get in trouble, how nothing I did was good enough for you; those things fucked me up for so long.  They made me doubt whether anyone could love me.  They made it hard for me to trust anyone.  I can’t accept gifts from people without expecting that some kind of pain will be attached to it.  You made me feel like I was worthless and it took a long time to retrain myself to know that I wasn’t.  I can’t have you back in my life because I don’t want to be reminded of how the people whose job it was to love me couldn’t even do that.”  I had told myself they weren't going to make me cry, that they didn't get to see how they were still able to hurt me, but by the end of my rant I was openly weeping.  Wanda had taken my hand and was holding it tightly and Bruce was caressing my back.

“I'm sorry, Elise.  I'm sorry we made you feel like that.  I'm sorry I never stopped him,” mom said.

“You're still with him!” I shouted.  “And Amanda looked scared.  Why was she scared about going back to you alone?  Why are you still with the man who broke your daughter's bones on multiple occasions?  Wasn't it your job to protect me from that?”

Mom opened and closed her mouth like a fish and dad has stiffened up in his chair.  “Now look here, Elise,” he huffed.

“No!” I shouted.  “You look here!  You don't get to be part of my life anymore.  You aren't my father.  You forfeited that when you first shattered the bones in my arm.  I don't care if you've genuinely changed.  You had sixteen years to show me you loved me, but all you taught me was self-loathing, pain, and fear.  I won't let you do that to me again!  I want nothing to do with you!”  I turned to my mother and she flinched from me.  “If you do honestly want a relationship with me, that might be possible.  Under these conditions; you leave dad.  Completely.  If you need help, I will do that, but you're not to have any contact with him outside of divorce lawyers.  You will get therapy.  I can help with that too.  Then I'll let you see me.  If things go well I'll let you meet some of the others and eventually the kids.  But know this, this is me, mother.  I am a bisexual woman in a relationship with nine people.  These aren't my friends, they are my lovers.  We have children together.  I did not follow your life plan of marrying rich and being a good housewife.”

“Elise!” Dad snapped and had he used that voice a moment ago I probably would have cowered like a kicked dog.  Something had snapped in me though.  I was well and truly done.  I knew who I was and what I was worth and I would not be afraid of him ever again.

I got up ignoring him and I looked at the lawyers.  “I’m done here.  I'd appreciate it if one of you would sort out getting a restraining order set up against my dad, for both me and the kids.”

“Of course,” the one closest to me said.  “We’ll get that started right away.”

I turned back to my parents and folded my arms.  “Goodbye,” I said.  “I'd say it was nice seeing you, but you never did like it when I lied.”

I strode out of the room followed by Wanda and Bruce and when we were out Bruce scooped me up into his arms like a doll and hugged me.  “I am so proud of you,” he rumbled.

“Me too, Elly,” Wanda said, rubbing my leg.  “You were amazing.”

“Okay, okay!” I said, snuggling into Bruce’s chest.  “Take me back to my real family.”

Bruce chuckled and hoisted me up onto his shoulder. “You've got it,” he said.

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