#made me chuckle well don e

[oopwoop]

Look What The Cat Dragged In

pairing: e!1610! Miles Morales x Black Cat! Reader (readers gender is up to interpretation!)

warning(s): Swearing, that’s it I believe. Unedited!

summary: Miles can’t help but be drawn to Black Cat. He knew they’re a thief and he should be turning them in, but what’s the fun in that? Their game of cat and mouse was exciting

word count: 941!

“Normally I’d find a stray in an alleyway, not a museum. What’s a pretty kitty like you doin’ here?” You heard a voice echo in the open room of the museum. As you turn around, you notice a familiar black and red spider suit. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. You’d be sent on a mission, do what you need to do, he’ll show up out of nowhere, the two of you bicker and flirt, he tries to catch you and you either escape or once he does he lets you go. He claims it’s an accident every time he lets you go, but you know better. He likes this game of cat and mouse just as much as you do.

“What can I say, curiosity killed the cat. I can’t help but want to wander around, y’know. Cats are free-spirited, can’t keep them caged up for too long.” You grinned at him, voice low and smooth. Walking over to him, you swatted your hand playfully at him as he hung upside down.

Miles let go of his web, landing on his feet and walked closer to you. “You’ve wandered quite far, kitty. Where’s the rest of your litter?” It seems he has his own multitude of cat jokes too. You liked that about him, no matter the situation or theme he could find a joke.

“I don’t have one, I prefer to wander on my own. It’s much more fun that way. Plus, they’d steal everything from me. The fortune, fame.. you. I’d be one jealous kitty then.” It was partly true. You much rather work alone, others just get in the way but you did have a boss. He doesn’t need to know that, though.

“I suppose so. What made you choose the museum this time? What fancy painting are you after? Is it one of the paintings with the Victorian looking black cat?” Miles chuckles. You knew exactly what painting he was talking about, yet you weren’t amused.

“Haha, very funny bug boy. While it is a cute painting, it’s not what I’m here for. That’s a secret. Now, if you paw-don me, I have business to attend to. As much as I’d like to play, I must get going”. You really did need to get going, even though you hated ending this early. With a pout and a pat on his shoulder, you walked away, backs now facing each other.

After a few seconds you felt something on your back, pulling you back into his chest. “Nahhh, I don’t think so, kitty. This game isn’t over.” He whispered in your ear. It seemed he wasn’t letting you out easy tonight, oh well. Suppose you could play a little game of chase.

“How about a game of chase, yeah? Let me go, give me a few seconds to run and follow after. Sound good to you, Spidey?” You offered, whispering back. You felt the rumble in his chest as he chuckled as he moved away.

“Got a five second head start, pretty kitty. Better get going.” With that you ran, jumping up and climbing to the next floor. Those five seconds felt way too fast, faster than five seconds normally feel. Not even a minute later he was catching up, luckily you were faster.

Soon enough you got to where you needed to be, quick in your movements to get what you came for. You heard Miles tut from behind you, stepping into the room. “Come ‘ere kitty, kitty, kitty. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Sorryyy.. but I can’t take any risks. I don’t wanna be sent to the pound. I really wish I could stay but this cats gotta pounce.” You turned to look at him noticing his mask was now off. He stayed silent, walking to you. He stopped right in front of you, eyes staring into yours. You felt drawn to step closer. It’s wasn’t unusual that you two had these.. intimate moments, though neither of you ever got this close. His warmth was radiating off of him, it was comforting. You wish you could be in forever, unfortunately you really had to get going.

You placed a hand on his chest, grazing it with the tip of your sharp claws. You felt his breath hitch at that as he placed his hands on your waist. You refused eye contact now. “I really must get going, buggy. You know I enjoy our time together but it has to come to an end tonight”. What meant to be a playful tone came out as a sigh. He huffed at it and just gripped your waist tighter. When you finally look up to him you saw his face was closer and he was now looking at your lips. It was a stupid idea. A bad idea. An absolute horrible idea to pursue it, kissing him. How could you not, though? So you did.

His lips were soft. Everything about him felt soft at this moment. You felt soft for him, like melting into a puddle. How could some hero like Spider-Man make you weak in the knees. It was stupid, so utterly stupid, but you didn’t regret it.

What felt like an eternity later you pulled away, staring back into his eyes. Pushing yourself away, you looked away and moved to walk out. “I’ll catch you later, Miles. Don’t fur-get about me.” It was the last thing you said before grappling away, leaving the museum.

Miles stood there idly, staring into space. His hand moved up to his mouth, his lips tingling from the kiss. His body turned slightly to the doorway, eyes staring longingly. “Adiós, gatito bonito..”

A/n: I was really debating on making this into a two part thing, stopping it before the kiss-

Let me know what you think of it! Send requests! Love you ♡ (ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

[navstuffs]

Hey! First and foremost, congrats to Brazil for stopping Bolsonaro on the elections! (not completely but still, this is a great feat)

The second thing: lately I've been thinking how poor Carlos must feel knowing that he probably can never go back in Brazil 🥺. So I thought: reader notices this and decides to make something special for him. When he comes back for a long and stressful week of work he finds reader waiting for him with the dining table full of traditional Brazilian dishes like Feijoada or Pão de Queijo. All the while there's soft Bossa Nova music. When he asks reader why they did this they say that they've noticed that he's been feeling homesick so they thought of making all of this to make him feel a little closer to home. "I know how much you miss your country, but know that I love you. So whenever you'll feel down I'll be there to hold you, to make you feel safe. *chuckles* and you know what they say 'home is where the heart is' right?". After dinner high quality cuddles ensures.

No need to rush, take your time and thanks in advance! Have a good day!

Arroz e Feijão (Rice and Beans)

Pairing: Carlos Oliveira x GN!Reader

Summary: Carlos is homesick and you help to comfort him.

Warnings tags: hurt/comfort, carlos is always brazilian in my fics, translation from pt-br to eng at the bottom

Author's Notes: first of all, thank you! bolsonaro isn't in prison YET BUT is something, so consider this fic an ode to that. SECOND, this fic is SO personal to me. in my pov, the sentence "home is where your heart is" IS very hard to begin to understand, so writing this was certainly a challenge but one i welcome with open arms. thank you so much for requesting with me, i hope from the bottom of my heart you like it as much as i enjoyed writing this!

my carlos's masterlist

Carlos finally parks his car in the driveway of your shared house, rubbing his face. It had been a long and stressful work week, and staying away from you didn't make it any better. To make matters even worse, he had felt homesick for quite a while. You see, feeling homesick never entirely leaves someone. It is a pain Carlos learned how to manage and live with it. He never shared anything in deep detail, only vague responses if you asked. Not because he didn't trust you, no, Carlos just didn't want to worry you.

When Carlos exits the car, his eyes follow the lights in the kitchen, and he smiles. You are home. He couldn't wait to shower, lay down with you, and forget that the rest of the world ever existed. Listen to you tell him about your day, and update him with gossip.

When he enters the house, the first thing he notices is the food scent. It smells so familiar Carlos forgets to take off his backpack, walking straight to the dining room. A few pots are closed, but he can see the fresh white rice cooked and the black beans still boiling through the glass lid. He wants to open another one when you walk from the kitchen with another enclosed bowl. You smile happily when you see him, placing the bowl carefully on the table before running to hug him.

"You are back!" You exclaim, excited, not wanting to let go of him.

"What is all of this?" Carlos asks, his voice low.

"Rice and beans? Oh, I have farofa ready and some salgadinhos, as well. I ordered the last ones, I won't lie, but the rest I did myself. And mhm, also!" You jump up and down as you open the bowl you just brought from the kitchen, displaying twenty brigadeiros. "I made those from scratch and finally gave them the small ball form, so we won't have to eat from the pot like all the other times. I am so excited for you to try because I don't know if they turned out well and…Carlos, are you okay?"

You stop talking, Carlos's expression worrying you. He looks speechless, his eyes going from the food to you. It is like you have read his thoughts.

"Why?" His voice comes out barely a whisper, and you realize, a chill going down your body, that Carlos is holding back tears.

"I know you miss Brazil, and you don't tell me," You reply, making him stare at you. "I see in your eyes. So I decided to pull up this little dinner. I know it is not a lot, but—"

Carlos doesn't let you finish, pulling you into a tight hug. He can't even express his gratitude for having you in his life. For you love. For your patience with him. You gently rub his head, listening to some silent sobs coming from your man. You pull away slowly, wiping some of his tears as you tell him.

"I want you to know that if you ever fall, I will be here. Don't bottle up those feelings, okay? I am here for you. Eu te amo muito."

"Eu amo você também. Você é a minha vida."

After dinner, where you think you saw Carlos shed one or two tears when he ate your rice and beans. Carlos pretty much praised you the whole night: how everything was so good because it tasted with love. By the end of the night, you sit by the sofa, waiting for Carlos. You smile, tapping your lap when he reappears clean and wearing pajamas. He lays his head on your chest, a purring sound coming from his chest.

"Eu te amo tanto. Você sabe, não sabe?"

"I know. I love you too. Now sleep, rest, meu amor."

It doesn't take long for Carlos to fall asleep on your chest. You smile, kissing the top of his forehead. It is good to have him back home.

Eu te amo muito = I love you so much

"Eu amo você também. Você é a minha vida." = I love you too. You are my life.

Eu te amo tanto. Você sabe, não sabe? = I love you so much. You know that, don't you?

Meu amor = my love

[ann-writes-universes]

Athaza (Lucien x Reader) Pt. 1/3

A/N: Inspired by the lack of Lucien content and sad ass Lana songs.

Warnings: None.

W/C: 4,342

“Athazagoraphobia(Noun): The fear of forgetting someone or something, as well as a fear of being forgotten.”

~

You had been young when the wildest son of Autumn had become a lover of Spring. You remembered his first appearance as Tamlin’s emissary, a ball had been thrown in his honor. Scratch that, a ball had been thrown in order for Tamlin to announce his new emissary and conduct business with the men of his court while the women danced and gossiped with one another. 

“You’d be insolent if you were not excited for this.” Seena, your eldest sister spoke. She was perched at her vanity, running a pearlescent brush through her fine hair. Her bright gaze was trained on you through the mirror, studying your form. 

From your position on her bed, you caught her gaze. You were splayed across the light pink duvet, admiring your sister as she began getting ready to flounce her beauty before the Spring court. 

“She’s right Lamb, this is your first real outing as an eligible Elrod girl.” Naida quipped, she was situated before a full length mirror, wincing as a maid violently yanked the strings of her corset. Her dark hair was twisted on the top of her head and littered in flowers made of brightly colored jewels. 

“Yes but that's a horrifying thought. What if the suitor Father picks for me isn't as lovely as your Kaius? Or as dotting as Espin?” You replied, turning your gaze to the intricately painted ceiling. Seena laughed, a melodic noise that lilted through the room and brought a smile to your face.

“He has yet to make a bad decision regarding us little Lamb, I doubt he makes one tonight.”

“Especially one involving you.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Naida?” You sat up, pearing at your second eldest sister. She twisted around to face you, breathtaking in the red silk gown she now donned. One side of her painted lips turned up in a smile. Tugging on the elbow length white gloves she held, she floated towards you. Gently, she placed a hand on your knee and brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear with the other. 

“What that means is, Father is incredibly protective over you, how you feel. He isnt going to let you be married off to some brute.” She tapped your nose with a finger before patting your knees and urging you to get up. “Now get dressed, I am dying to see you in that pearl number Syera designed for you.”

–

“You look stunning.”

“How grown up you look, my little lamb.” 

“Thank you both.” You blushed, accepting the hands of your father, and a kiss on the cheek from your mother. It was half past six and your four siblings, your parents, and you were all gathered in the entryway of your hillside manor. Seena was clad in gold, her hair pin straight as always, Naida in red and your brothers Laurent and Emir clad in complementing shades of sage and powdery blue. 

“I think she looks like a Clam.” Emir chuckled, winking playfully. His jest was quickly ended by a terse slap on the arm from your mother and a disapproving grunt from Laurent. “I was only kidding!” He shrieked, rubbing his arm dramatically. 

Seena rolled her eyes and made for the door, clearly ready to be on the way. Your siblings and mother followed, your father staying behind to escort you as your brothers had escorted your mother (one on either of her arms). 

“Emir seems to find it difficult that his younger sister is growing up.” He chuckled softly. The summer air warmed your skin as the two of you made your way to the carriage. The horses whinnied softly and fireflies glowed in the forest beyond. Roses and honeysuckle permeated the air and calmed your heart slightly.

“Emir finds everything difficult.” You whispered with a smile, squeezing your fathers arm gently before climbing into the carriage with your family who had already settled into playful banter with one another. 

The ride was long and by the time you arrived at Tamlin’s estate your nerves had been replaced with excitement. Servants helped you out of the carriage and the music from within the home beckoned you all. Kaius and Espen awaited your sisters atop the stairs, and they wasted no time sashaying to their awaiting beaus. 

You wondered how it was so easy for them, that level of grace and beauty. So easily they floated about, and so easily they had always been to compliment and fuss over. 

“Come, I’ll walk you in.” It was Laurent offering his arm. The eldest Elrod child, Laurent, had always been your protector. His gray eyes had always been soft, wise, just like your father’s. Smiling, you took his arm and looked to your father and mother who were standing arm in arm a few steps up, awaiting to be announced to those inside. 

“Lord Elrod and his wife Lady Lyria.” 

And with that you followed your mother’s swishing skirts and father’s clicking boots into a world entirely new to you.

—

You had attended events at Tamlin’s estate before. Your father was a high ranking member of his court, your mother a distant relative of the High Lord’s own mother somewhere down the line. As a babe you had played in these gardens while your parents conducted business (your father economically and your mother socially). Laurent and Tamlin were close in age, friends since boyhood and thicker than thieves, a fact that was apparent as the High Lord greeted your father cordially and dropped all principle to grasp the dark haired male beside you in a hug. 

“And dearest Lamb, you look ravishing.” He spoke, turning that wolfish gaze on you. The blush that overtook your body was far from subtle, your eyes jerking to the various people who roamed the halls. 

“Thank you, High Lord.” You replied, careful to address him as you had been instructed before you arrived. 

“Remember that he is and has been high lord. There will be many people there tonight. Forget for a moment that he is your friend.” 

Those had been your mother’s words. Spoken to all of you in the carriage. You had all known this, of course, never would you have dotted on the High Lord of spring with nicknames and playful gestures at an event such as tonight. 

“I much prefer it when you call me Tam, (y/n).”

“Not tonight.” Laurent grunted, smiling widely at his old friend. The two males shared a look, turning his attention away from your brother Tamlin gestured for your group to follow him. Falling in step quickly beside your father the blonde began to discuss the emissary you all were to meet, the conversation hushed to prevent others from hearing. 

Your attention was grabbed now, however, by the scene in the ballroom before you. Food littered long tables along the wall, servants weaved between guests serving fae wine and a band filled the room with music, swift and beautiful. 

Couples danced and swayed magically, giggling and laughter filled the room and mingled with varying conversations. 

“You look like a river nymph in a school of fish.” Laurent joked, elbowing your side gently. And you did. Your eyes had lit up at the sight before you and your body was nearly vibrating with excitement. 

“Oh Laurie, I want to dance!” You gleamed, making to pull your brother into the thick of it all. He stood ramrod straight and smiled thinly. 

“Not with me little Lamb, I am to attend the High Lord’s meeting. Perhaps one of them may better suit you.” 

His gaze traveled to the side of the room where several young men had already taken notice of you. You swallowed thickly and released your hold on Laurent’s arm. 

With a kiss on the head he dismissed himself to Tamlin’s office where you presumed he and your father had slipped away. Your sisters were already dancing with their respective lovers and Emir was dutifully escorting your Mother. 

“Not incredibly smart to leave a pretty thing like you to the wolves.” A strong voice spoke from beside you. With a slight start, you turned your attention to the male. 

And oh gods was he something.

Auburn hair was tucked neatly behind his ears. And his almond gaze was trained on you. Tanned skin that seemed to glow, and a face strong and beautiful that was mapped with constellations of freckles. 

“Pardon?” You replied, much to the dismay of those watching, you turned your body to the flame haired stranger. You took note of his attire, not outwardly spring court like so many of the males around you. He simply wore dark trousers and an emerald tunic embellished with gold. 

“Your fiancé. Not very wise of him to leave you here alone.” 

You blanched and couldn’t help but laugh, much to the male’s confusion. Covering your mouth with a gloved hand you blushed, clearing your throat, you couldn’t help but smile at his bafflement. 

“I apologize. Laurent is not my fiancé, rather, my eldest brother.” 

“Oh gods, I am so sorry.” He sputtered, running a nervous hand through those silken locks. You waved a hand in dismissal and looked towards the dance floor once more. The music had built and the dancers were lively as ever. Your body thrummed and itched with the need to join in their revelry. 

“No it’s quite alright.” And then, you had an idea “Would you like to dance with me-“

“Lucien.” 

“Lucien. Would you like to dance with me?” You found his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and swore a blush tinged his cheeks. From embarrassment due to his previous assumption or shock at a woman asking him to dance you did not know. 

“I’d be honored lady-“

“(Y/N), but most people call me Lamb.” 

—

Lucien was skilled in dancing, and by the end of the third song you were both breathless and giggly. Fae wine had been consumed copiously and the two of you had been whispering about the couples around you, making up fanciful stories about their lives that were entirely untrue. 

“And I believe Lady Erondale secretly walks her husband around their home on a leash when no one is looking.” Lucien chuckled, nodding his head in the direction of the dark haired woman. She was older and her balding husband beside her looked absolutely miserable as he downed another chalice and pretended to listen to his wife’s complaints.

You giggled and looked away, hiding your face in your glass. The two of you were leaned against a wall, when Tamlin entered the room. Your father, Laurent, and several other men and their sons filed in after, dispersing to their respective families as the music died down and the room’s attention turned to its High Lord. 

“I can’t wait to see what poor soul has to do Tam’s bidding for the rest of eternity.” You whispered, not letting your eyes leave the front of the room as Tamlin stepped onto his Dias and cleared his throat.

“It is with great pleasure that I introduce my court to her newest emmissary.” A soft chatter fell amongst the crowd as they searched for Nobles’ sons who might fit the bill. Your own eyes fell to your brother who was closer to the front of the crowd, wondering silently if Tamlin would pick his oldest friend to do his bidding politically. 

“May the mother bless you with good conversation and quick Witt, Lucien Vanserra.” 

The room fell quiet and you nearly dropped your glass. Shoulders rigged you realized suddenly that your partner was no stranger from the court you had yet to meet. 

He was Berron Vanserra’s son, and one of the highest ranking officials in Tamlin’s court.

“That pour soul would be me.” Lucien whispered from beside you with a smile before pushing off of the wall and making his way towards the front of the room. A hushed whisper permeated the crowd and then someone began to clap. 

As the auburn haired male made his way through the high fae around you, men clapped him on the back and women offered congratulations. Several even went as far as to leave lingering touches and offer seductive grins. But when the Vanserra son took his place beside Tamlin his gaze found yours in the back of the room, and to the horror of your father and mother watching, he winked. 

— 

“A Vanserra?” Seena whispered over her glass, her eyes cutting across the room to where Tamlin, Laurent, and Lucien were laughing and talking. The music had picked back up long ago and after four different dance partners your feet were hurting and you were ready to go home. 

“I don’t get it either, they’re historically brutes.” Naida replied, twirling the stem of a cherry she had just popped between her blood red lips. 

Your head was resting on a gloved hand, the tulle scratching your cheek irritatingly. They had looked at you, awaiting a reply. 

“Well what do you think, Lamb. We saw you talking with him earlier.” Seena pressed, leaning forward in her seat. 

“I thought he was nice?” You replied, unsure of the answer they sought. Your sisters huffed in unison and fell back into their chairs and the gossip they had gotten into prior. 

“I’m going to get some fresh air.” You spoke, though they were too enraptured with the conversation at hand to notice you leaving. 

Finding the gardens was the least challenging task of the night. They were lit with strings of golden lights that ran from the eaves of the manor to trees lining the wood. A few couples dotted the paths, quietly conversing with one another or simply admiring the flowers and plants that were so neatly kept by Tamlin’s gardeners. 

They paid you no mind as you strolled, arms crossed over your chest. Despite it being summer, the night had brought with her a breeze that was just nipping enough to chill your bare arms. The straps of your dress, strung with pearls, were cool against your skin only adding to the breeze’s effects. 

You chose the fountain to reside by momentarily, worried that you would interrupt a couple who were deep in conversation further up the path you had been taking. The water trickled slowly and you fastened your eyes to the bronze crane whose face was upturned towards the stars above. 

Gravel crunched with the promise of a visitor and you sat straighter on the bench you had claimed. 

“You disappeared.” Lucien noted, strolling to a stop not far from your bench. His body was turned towards the fountain, admiring it just as you were. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers and the tunic you now knew was Autumn court green was unbuttoned at the top revealing a sliver of tanned muscle. 

“My sisters were stifling me with conversation about men.” You replied, leaning against the back of the bench, arms still crossed over your chest. Never once did your eyes wane from that crane, nor did his as he spoke. 

“Do you not find that sort of talk intriguing?” 

“Not particularly when I have nothing to add.” 

He hummed in reply and turned to you, gesturing to the open spot beside you. Nodding, you scooched over to offer the large male room. He settled beside you and braced his elbows on his knees. Even hunched over as he was, he still looked downward at you. 

“Surely a female as pretty as you would have something to add about doting males.” He purred, russet eyes roving over your figure. 

Your cheeks heated and you looked away. He chuckled slightly and leaned backwards against the bench, sighing softly. 

Truthfully you supposed you did look quite pretty. The maids at your home had curled your hair  and littered it with pearls of varying sizes and hues. And your dress, it was the first womanly dress you had truly worn. Gone was the lace and ribbon of girlhood, this was the silk and boning and figure of a woman. It was pale white and the corset top accentuated your chest. The straps were made of pearls and strings of them were draped intricately across the breast, back, and sides of the gown itself. 

“White symbolizes your status as eligible for courtship.” Seena had whispered as the maids fussed about you fitfully. 

“What it means is that you havent been fucked.” Naida giggled. Her laughter had been met with gasps from the servants and a punch in the arm from Seena. “What? Its the truth.” 

You frowned slightly and lifted a gloved hand to brush a hair from your face. Even the gloves were a delicate white tulle. 

“The only males I have ever held conversation with for more than five minutes are my brothers and Tam- the High Lord.” You corrected yourself. Unsure now how you should (or if you should for that matter) be speaking to the male beside you. 

“Im quite aware of your family’s friendship with the high lord and his late parents. I too am close with Tamlin.” 

“So why have I never seen you around?”

“Perhaps you're never here when I am.” 

You nodded, that theory did check out. You had not been to Tamlin’s estate with your father since you were old enough to be seen lustfully by boys your age. It was deemed “inappropriate” behavior and now you simply visited for events such as these. 

“Perhaps I will be seeing more of you now that I am to stay and conduct political business. Your father and brother seem to be important spearheads for such conversations.” He hummed, turning his gaze towards you. Your eyes met his own and a saddened smile turned your lips. He was stunning, and the conversation was much easier and relaxed than it had been with the boys your father had forced upon you to dance with earlier. 

“You will be seeing a lot of Laurent and Father. It would be entirely inappropriate for me to join them on business trips.” 

He hummed in understanding and a wicked smirk turned the left side of his lips up. Leaning forward he captured your chin in his hand and gently turned your head to face him. 

He was so close.

The shadow of his lips brushed against your nose and his breath fanned across your lips. You had forgotten how to breathe. Your eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes and back to his lips again. 

“And what if I request your presence at every meeting they attend?”

“Why would you do that?” You whispered, swallowing thickly. 

“So you’ll have something to talk about next time your sisters bring up boys.” That wicked grin was so enticing. Your heart was racing in your chest, this was not what your parents would want. Not what was expected of a lady in high standing with the court, and you knew that Tamlin would not be pleased either. 

“LUCIEN?” A voice, strong and steady, called from somewhere in the garden. 

“And so I am summoned.” He whispered, running a thumb over your parted lips before standing from the bench. Bowing, he kissed the top of a gloved hand and let his lips linger there for a moment. “I expect to see you very soon…Lamb.” 

And with that, the Vanserra son had disappeared into the night leaving you with nothing but a full body blush and the soft trickling of the fountain before you. 

–

“Did he kiss you?” Naida whispered, clutching a pillow to her chest. Seena raised her brows in question, shifting beneath the blankets you all shared. 

The minute your family had arrived home and parted ways for the night your sisters had barged into your room and toppled into your bed, begging for details of your night. 

“No. Well, almost I think? Tam called him to the house before anything could happen.” You murmured, picking at the edges of your duvet. You had long since changed for bed and the gown was hanging by your mirror. The sight of it made you yearn to return to that garden, finish that conversation. 

“Do you think father will really let you go with him and Laurent if Lucien requests you come?”

Seena questioned, she was just as puzzled as you. Her pale brows were pulled tight and she was chewing on the inside of her cheek, deep in thought. 

“He’ll have no choice. If Tam approves and Lucien wants it, Father really can't turn down that courtship. Its a perfect political and economic move for him.” Naida replied, her voice lilted with concern. 

Your eyes shot to hers, wide and worried now. Lucien had been kind, intriguing, but you didn't want to court him. He was at his core a Vanserra and the stories of that family haunted you. Of course, you presumed if Tamlin was willing to take him in that surely meant he wasn't so bad?

“Well Lamb, he certainly wasn't ugly. And you were laughing the entire night. He can't be that bad?” Seena softened, resting a hand on your slumped shoulder. 

“No. But you both got to pick didnt you?”

“Yes, but we also picked courtships that would benefit our father.” Seena spoke. 

“If he requests your presence, get to know him. The worst that happens is you dislike him and you tell father. He would risk offending an emissary if it meant you got to be happy.” Naida whispered. You nodded and agreed, bidding your sisters goodnight as they slid from your bed and made their way to their respective rooms. 

–

And oh did you go.

That entire summer was spent traversing through the forest and back to your home to accompany Laurent and your father to Tamlin’s estate. To his friend’s benefit Tamlin would dismiss Lucien from meetings early and the two of you would trampede across the grounds, giggling and talking until the sun dipped below the horizon and your father announced it time for you to leave. 

Lucien would tell you about the courts he visited, what they were like and how interesting (or dull) their High Lord was. He filled your head with fanciful images of oceans in Summer court, snow capped mountains in the Winter lands, and the mystery of the feared Night court. 

“So he really is that extra?” You spoke one day, enjoying the way the summer sun warmed your skin. You were stretched across a blanket, admiring the clouds. Beside you, Lucien chuckled, tracing idle patterns into the skin of your arm. 

“Oh yes, Helion is all about a good show.” He murmured sleepily, freckled lids growing heavy. You turned your head slightly, admiring the way his hair shone copper in the light and his skin tanned deeper. His hand had grown still on your arm and his chest had fallen into a steady rhythm of rise and fall. How peaceful he looked, how utterly serene. 

Your heart lurched in your chest.

Smiling softly you inched closer to him, resting your head on his strong chest and relishing in the feeling of him wrapping his arms around your frame. 

“I will be going away for awhile soon.” He murmured into your hair, running a hand through it as he spoke. 

“How long?” 

“Im unsure. I have dealings with a court below the mountain.” 

Your spine stiffened, and Lucien’s hand stilled. You pushed up against his chest and stared down at him. He had an eye open, struggling to remain open with the brightness of the sun.

“That false court?” You had heard the whispers amongst the women, how brutal and unkempt this new “court” was. How they were more barbaric than even the Night Court’s people. You had heard how they resided deep beneath a once holy mountain and fucked and killed one another like animals. 

“False as they may be, its my job to make sure they are on good terms with Spring Court.” He threaded a finger through your hanging hair, twirling it around. Deflecting. He was deflecting. You sat out of his reach, turning your gaze to the rolling hills. 

A storm was rolling in, how fitting. 

“Who cares if they are? It shouldnt even exist Lucien.” You spat, crossing your arms over your chest. Much to your dismay, Lucien began to chuckle, a noise that built deep within his chest and bubbled out of his throat. 

Strong arms wrapped around your midsection and drug your pouting form between his legs to rest against that rumbling chest. He rested his chin on your shoulder and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. 

“You let me worry about the logistics. Now, let me get to my point Lamb.” 

“Im listening.” You huffed, watching the clouds darken and the sun dip lower and lower. Father would be calling soon…

“When I come back…” He was dragging a hand down your left arm, toying with your hand. “I want to take you as my bride.” It was a whispered thought, spoken into your ear. 

You bristled pleasantly and couldn't help the smile that formed as you twisted to face him. You cupped his own smiling face between your hands. 

“Youre serious?” You questioned, brows pulled together tightly. 

“Serious as I will ever be.” He laughed, placing his hands over your own. “Ive spoken with your father about it, Tam too. They think its a great idea… If youll have me.” 

Marriage. 

Lucien Vanserra wanted to marry you. 

Three months in and he wanted to marry you. 

It had begun to pour. Lucien gripped your hands, pulling your wandering mind back to him. 

“When I return I will propose properly if you still feel the same.” 

Over the pouring rain you laughed and pulled him closely to you, relishing in the sped up beating of his heart thrumming against your conjoined chests. 

“I dont think I will ever feel differently for you Lucien.”

[captainpriceswife]

Self Indulgent Smut for today.

(named) tavtash ; pegging ; romance ; enjoy at your own risk (not for anything unsavory this is just very self indulgent)

There was a sense of calm about the city, now that everything had been miraculously saved. Rosalind was tadepole free, as well as her friends and had even garnered the favor of others in the realm of public opinion. Surprisingly her high standing didn't go down when her marriage to the former Lord, now Archduke Enver Gortash hit the Baldur's Mouth daily. She kept the headline page, framed in her study. The archduchess had spent the day as lazily as she could, thumbing through a novel that Gale had sent her with a note that she would find it facsinating. She did, but her mind was occupied, waiting for Enver to come home from another mission as Archduke. She set it aside when a courier come to her study, bowing more than once.

She rolled her eyes and extended a hand to take the letter, written on the prettiest cream parchment and a golden seal with an E+R upon it. Of course it was from him, it was so delicate that she paused looking at it, her heart warm. She cleared her throat, gesturing to the courier. "There's a coin purse upon the table by the main door, take ten gold for your troubles dear." The courier bowed and scurried off, a quiet thanks m'lady as a reply. She slowly, carefully opened the letter to find his messy scrawl and her heart skipped a beat.

She smiled at the letter, surprised at him to do such a thing. It was sweet and she wouldn't mind a quiet night alone with a book and some delicious snacks. She stretched, moving to pack herself a bag with a nightgown, a couple books and her favorite blanket. She donned his spare cloak, pulling it around her as she made her way towards the establishment. She quietly slipped into Sharess' Caress, avoiding too many glancing eyes before she was directed to her room. She smiled, it was exactly as promised, everything was beautiful and she heard the bath being drawn. She laid her bag by the bed, undressing and moving to the bathroom. She peered in, seeing a drow woman give her a wave before she left through the other door.

My darling, I hope this letter finds you well. I must apologize the way home is taking longer than I thought it would. I have paid, in advance, for the finest room down at the Caress. You deserve a night to yourself, away from the hustle and bustle of our lovely home. There will be a bath readied upon your arrival and nothing but the finest things waiting.

Your beloved,

Enver.

Rosalind was beyond delighted to step into the bath, relaxing as she soaked her muscles. Being the wife of the Archduke could be hard work, but it was lonely work when he was sent away to do his duties and she couldn't follow. She shook her head, shooing away such lonesome thoughts as she thought about him. Her cheeks flushed pink, imaging how nice it would be to have a bath with him when he returned. Time seemed to pass slowly, her body relaxed into the almost too hot water, but she managed by relaxing. She could have sworn she heard something, and she lifted her head looking towards the door back to her room.

She got up from the bath, rinsing carefully before wrapping herself up in a warmed towel. She opened the door slowly, making sure it didn't creak as it opened. Her eyes opened wide as she saw the source of the noise, her darling was draped across her bed. He was still clothed, wearing his beautiful gauntlets, but his pants were slipped down to midthigh. "Darling, I thought you were going to take forever in that bath." He purred softly, gazing at her from over his shoulder as one hand slipped down to give her a better view of his rear. She tried to think of something smart but instead murmured to him, "I missed you- all of you." This made him chuckle as he slowly and meticulously slipped his middle finger down the crack of his ass. "I can tell, you're eyeing me like I have eyed you so many times before- I decided I wanted to try something more... fun."

She quirked her brow, looking at him before walking towards the bed. She pulled a chair up, letting her hands rest on his thighs as he continued to slowly tease himself. His hole was glistening with lube and she couldn't bite back the groan that poured from her as he slipped his finger in slowly. "You love that don't you darling." His breath hitched from the pleasure, before he clears his throat. "There's a toy for you in the nightstand. I think it's to your liking." She wastes no time going to the nightstand, opening the drawer to find a golden dildo, ornate straps connected to it's base.

She picked it up, noticing the craftsman's ship was akin to his Steel Watch. "I see you made it specifically for me-" She purred, walking back over to grasp his hip tightly, kneading it. "I see you took my little request to heart, I am curious to see how you look since I know you like letting me finger you." She dropped the towel, causing him to groan as she's revealed to him. "I missed you. All of you." He grumbled into the bed as he turned his head. "And I you my dearest, always." She tapped his thigh, helping him undress slowly before waving the toy at him. "Help me with this please, it'll make getting it on easier." After a long moment of strap tightening and adjustments, the toy sat against her pubic bone comfortably.

She turned to the mirror, a jolt of deeper arousal radiating through her as she saw how she looked. She walked back over, finding the oil and covering her false appendage with it. "Were you preparing yourself while I was in the bath?" He nodded and sighed softly, "Do you like your surprise? Both of them-" His words are cut short as she grasps his hips, pressing herself closer. It's a nice position, the nice angle of his hips at the perfect height for her. "Are you ready?" He nodded softly, using one hand to spread himself so she could ease in. She pressed forward softly, slipping it in with such slow care that you would have thought this wasn't her first try. He moaned, head pushed into the pillow as she finally sank into him, he had planned to take control like he typically did but the feeling had him shivering and groaning. Once he was pressed back fully, thighs and ass flush with her body he groaned out her name like it was the most exquisite thing.

She felt like she was in a trance, the sound of her lover moaning and the feeling of their bodies pressed together in such a new way had her aching. She smoothed her hands over his hips, grasping handfuls of his plump ass slowly, her hands were unable to stay still. "You look so pretty like this love, such a sight-" He chuckled, wiggling his hips slightly with a soft panting sound, "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself- I'll make sure to repay the favor." The promise had her groaning, pulling her hips back slowly. She looked up, seeing him peek back at her with curious eyes. She was going to make sure this was memorable for the both of them. "Relax my lord," She cooed sweetly, soothing her hand upward to the base of his spine. "Let me soothe away your problems and your thoughts, I want you to relax."

His head rested back into the pillow as she started to thrust slowly into him, each time she slipped in deep it made him moan and press back against her thighs. For now her hands stayed at his backside, slipping and massing up in slow strokes as she thrusted into him deeper. "My beautiful Enver-" He moans louder, his hands grasping at the pillow tightly as she nudges into his prostate. It's overwhelming for them both, for different reasons. The way he moves and reacts has her aching, her slick arousal starting to dampen her thighs as he trusts. "You look so pretty taking my dick," He shifts slightly, inhaling to say something and she thrusts into his prostate again to quiet him. "You're doing so well, I might have to reward you-" He peers back at her, curious at her soft praise. He enjoyed doling out praise for her, knowing her kink was receiving praise but she looked radiant as she gazed upon him doling out such sweet praises. He felt weak in the knees, overwhelmed by pleasure and his desire for her.

"I would love that-" He manages to exhale as he presses back to meet her thrust, a moan louder than before spilling from his lips. She reached forward, draping her body against his and stroked his cheek. "I love you, I love you so much." She murmured against his skin, stilling her thrusts for a brief moment. "I love you too." He breathed out, feeling her slip back and grasp his hips with one hand. The other slipped down and grasped his cock, causing him to let out a desperate sound. She thrusted in time with her strokes, slowly working him up towards his orgasm. Each breathy moan and sigh was like a symphony of her own making, ready to commit this to memory. She knew the telltale signs of his climax, the way his hips trembled, his hands grasping tighter to the pillow.

"That's right sweetheart, I need you to cum for me Enver, show me how much you're enjoying your wife's pretty cock." Her tone was sweet, adoring even, and it made him shiver with delight. "Yes darling-" He moaned louder, the combination of everything hitting just right as he came, bucking his hips back desperately as she continued to stroke him through it. His sounds were desperate, his body trembling as he leant more into the bed. She stood there, her own thighs trembling from the effort and from how bad she needed to finish. He slipped forward slowly, moving to remove the toy before murmuring to her, his voice sweet and husky. "Come here-"

He guided her to the bed, holding her close against him so he could prop her thighs open. She sighed, a little dreamily, as he embraced her tightly. He kept one arm around her midsection, a gauntlet covered hand cupping her breast gently as the other slipped between her legs. She always delighted when he left the gauntlets on, the feeling of metal across her skin with his touch sending a thrill up her spine. He slowly moved his hand between her legs and purred into her ear, "I see that you enjoyed yourself darling, I should help with this." His fingers circled her clit slowly, murmuring into her ear, "Now I get to take care of you."

She squirmed against his grasp, rocking her hips up as she moans. One of her hands slips into his hair, grasping at it as her eyes close. She's so sensitive, already driven close to cumming from watching him come undone for her. He presses down slowly, slipping two fingers into her as he presses his thumb into her clit. The feeling of his (smoothed) gauntlet against such delicate skin has her almost coming undone already. "Enver- fuck-" She cried out, her hips pressing forward as she turns her head pulling his hair a little more. He chuckles, it rumbling slightly in his chest before he leans and captures her lips. His tongue swipes against her bottom lip, forcing its way into her mouth as she moans. He knows exactly each and every button to press, her pleasure as important as his own to him.

She can feel it approaching, the coil of arousal in her stomach tightening to a maddening feeling. He's claiming her mouth, curling his fingers inside of her slowly. His other hand pinches her nipple slowly, twisting it ever so slightly and it sets it all off. She pulls back, panting and drooling slightly as she orgasms, her hips pressing forward roughly. She cries out his name, pulling at his hair just a bit rougher as she does. They're quiet for a moment before he slips his fingers out slowly, pausing to lick them clean with a low hum. "I can tell you missed me darling, you came so much quicker than normal." She laughed, resting back against him with a radiant smile. "I missed you and I loved my surprise, thank you." He kissed her cheek softly, groaning as he adjusts slightly.

"Let's have them draw another bath, I don't feel like going home just yet..." She laughed softly, "I packed a nightgown and my book so I'm ready." He slowly slipped from the bed, laying her down gently so he could call for a bath. It was moments like this, nothing else mattered they could just be alone and enjoy each other as a husband and wife should be able to.

[sun-aries]

Sweet Dreams

Moonlight streamed in from the window, saturating the royal chambers in a soft blue hue. It was peaceful and silent, save for the rustle of the comforter and the sleepy groan as the hero turned in his sleep.

Drowsily, Link reached out to embrace his wife only to find his hand landing squarely on the mattress. He patted around a bit before opening his eyes and realizing her space was empty. In an instant, he sat up, gave a sweep of the room and quickly realized Zelda wasn't there at all.

His heart dropped to his stomach. Perhaps it was a bit of an overreaction, but given their history, it tended to be a bit alarming whenever she went missing without explanation. It didn't take half a moment before Link shot out of bed and went searching for her, checking the adjacent rooms before leaving the chambers all together.

Once he stepped into the corridor, he was posed to run but halted mid-step when he caught glimpse of a warm light emitting from a half-opened door. Swiftly, he approached their newly furnished nursery and peeked in through the sliver between the door and the doorframe.

When his eyes found Zelda, swaying in the rocking chair with her hands resting over the growing baby bump, his heartbeat settled. A few logs were splintering in the hearth, casting a golden glow over her creamy skin, and he realized that she must've been there for sometime. But she was still donned in her nightgown, partially cloaked by the old threadbare blanket that she loved, and her hair was simply tied in a loose knot. He leaned against the doorframe, his face softening with a smile.

"…but she told me not to fret, for she'd go searching for a hero," his wife continued, just loud enough to hear. "You can only imagine my surprise when the princess brought a wolf into my tower." His lips curled with amusement when he realized what she was talking about. "I wasn't afraid though. Even then, your father was too sweet to be scary."

"Hey," he protested, inadvertently making his presence known, "I was scary!" Her lips pursed in suppression of a smile that told him she knew he was there - that she was teasing him. There was a twinkle in her eyes when they met his and he half-heartedly grumbled, "Everyone in town was scared of me."

Zelda smiled as he approached her and drew him in for a chaste kiss. "You're fierce; I'll give you that," she murmured when they parted, earning a bashful chuckle from her husband.

He then crouched by her side and folded his arms over her lap, and her hand adjusted, lazily combing through the unkempt locks of his blond hair. With a lax sigh, his head lolled into her hand. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Your child won't let me," she joked. But her dulcet voice was watered down with sleepiness and he knew she wasn't completely kidding. "It seems they're particularly restless tonight."

"I'm sorry. You've been working late enough as it is."

It was at times like this that he wished he could do something more to help her. For their part, the council made an honest effort to lessen her load and allow the queen more time to rest. But even then, her workload was so heavy that it ended up taking quite some time to finish.

What with all the new treaties to be written, minor repairs around town to oversee, and finances to budget, it was a wonder she got to bed at all. At least he'd be able to help with the workload once he became king, but it'd be a while before his coronation.

Zelda simply shook her head and lovingly looked down at her bump. "That's all right. We've been having a nice conversation."

"You have?"

"Yes, it seems they really enjoy hearing about our adventures. We tried to speak of news and politics, but it only served to agitate them more."

He snorted. "Sounds about right."

The corners of her lips twitched in amusement. "Would you like to continue the story? Perhaps they'd enjoy hearing your voice as well."

"Really?"

"Of course."

A little hesitantly, he lowered his gaze to her belly. Perhaps he was shy or nervous, but either way it was endearing, the way he carefully reached out to the bump and placed his hand over hers. The restless movements in her belly spurred him to speak.

"The first time I saw your mama, I thought she was the prettiest lady I ever saw." She laughed and shook her head again, but Link's eyes flashed up to hers and the look of them was serious. "I really did...I still do."

"You never told me that."

"Well, I was a wolf."

"I meant since then."

His face began to redden, starting with his cheeks and spreading to the tips of his ears, and his eyes darted away. "Oh. I thought you knew. I mean I couldn't not look at you. And I didn't want you to think that I only thought you were pretty because you're more than just pretty but-" He caught his breath and met her gaze again. "Yeah, I always thought you were really pretty."

It was strange being embarrassed about it now - for heaven's sake, they were wed and expecting. But he still remembered how awe-struck he was the first time he saw Zelda, the way it made his heart speed up and the world slow down at the same time. He just never thought he'd admit it to her.

Her eyes softened, half-lidded, as her fingers curled in his hair. "For what it's worth," she said, pulling him back to the present, "I thought you were very handsome as well. When you were human, of course." His blush darkened and he leaned further against her knee in an effort to hide it.

Hours were spent just getting lost in memory. Though they were still telling the stories to their unborn child, they ended up discussing it between themselves as well, finding little things about their respective journeys that had yet to be shared. It was incredible that there were still things they hadn't mentioned after so much time had passed, but their adventures were so monumental that it was easy to forget the tidbits.

When they were too tired for words, Zelda hummed her lullaby and eventually, finally, their child settled down. The couple had soon followed suit and by the early hours, they drifted to sleep right there in the nursery.

At dawn, when the maids couldn't find the queen in the royal chambers, there was a bout of frenzied chatter as they went scavenging. Like Link had, they all got quite ruffled at the thought of what could've caused the queen and prince's disappearance.

But when one maid checked the nursery, she waved the others over with a shush and a finger to her lips. The group of maids piled up in the doorway to find the couple nestled in the nursery, Zelda still in the rocking chair, Link leaning on her lap, and their hands interlaced over her baby bump. They exchanged amused and adoring looks before tip-toeing out quietly, unanimously deciding to wait a bit before waking them up.

[zippidi-dooda]

Book of Harvest - I

Dearest Y/N,

'Ow ya been Trick? Did ye miss us? I hope ev'rythin' 'as been well. All of us 'ave been pretty busy, our acts get a lot of attention 'n more want to see us perform. Th' troupe 'as just kept on growin' since I last saw ye too, one lad in particular is very sensational, 'as an act all of 'is own. And on 'is firs' day too! Can ye believe it? Was in a bad situation tha' one. I'm glad we were able ta 'elp. Snake, tha's what we call 'im. Curious 'bout 'is act, are ye? Well, give us a visit and see fer ye'self, ye'll be amazed I tell ya. Of course, we'll let ye in fer free, couldn't 'ave made it 'ere without ya, after all, an' couldn't be more greatful. Th' least we can do as thanks so don't think 'bout protestin'  ya hear! Anyway, ye've been busy too, right? Wish ye weren't, ye deserve to sit back 'nd unwind more'n anyone. I'd love ta holiday with ya one day, maybe go s'mewhere away from all the bright lights 'nd starin' crowds. Somewhere peaceful. Over the hills and far away don' sound too bad, eh? But tell me, what's yer job like? Ye didn't give much detail in yer last letter an' I'm interested in 'earin' more. Oh, an' 'ow's yer father? Still workin' at the 'ospitals? Ye should bring 'im along next time ye visit, I think our doc would 'ppreciate the company o' another doc 'ere again. Wish I could write ye more but I'm 'fraid I'm runnin' outta space on th' page. I look forward to yer next letter and 'ope ye the best.

P.S. It took a while ta decide what to get ye, but I think I found somethin' ye'll like

P.P.S. The others pitched in an' insisted on sending this, so hope yer not disappointed 

-J

You chuckled, pressing your fingers to your lips as you read the letter. The writing had gotten smaller as the sender tried to pack the rest of what he needed to say onto the page. 

"Each time we talk you end up writing more and more," you smiled, picking up the wrapped gift mentioned. "I can't now, but I'll definitely stop by for a visit when I have time."

It didn't take even a second for you to peel off the brown wrapping paper from the small, rose decorated box. Inside, there was a glass, puff perfume bottle, a raspberry colored liquid swirling inside. 

You took a whiff of the rose scented elixir, a fond memory of your first meeting with the man signed "J" crossing your mind.

"This must have cost a fortune," You sighed. "I won't let it go to waste, but I really can't just take it without paying you all back. I'll have something for each of you when I see you, I promise."

"What are you muttering about, Dearie?" A familiar voice called from across the dark room.

You folded the letter, tucking it away in your corset, and spritzed some perfume onto your wrists and neck. Maybe you should spray some of the perfume onto the next letter you sent as proof you used it.

Smiling, you walked over wrapped your arms around this silver haired man's waist, cheek resting against his back. "My friends' letter arrived. They sent a gift this time too. It's far too expensive though, so I'm thinking of getting them something in return. Do you have any suggestions, Undertaker?"

The Undertaker giggled and pressed one hand on top of yours. "I'm sure you'll find something they'll enjoy."

You hummed in response. "And what kind of gift would you like? I can't get them something and ignore you, now can I?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I want, Dearie." The Undertaker spun around to face you. "And it won't. Cost. You. A. Cent."

He captured your chin between his thumb and forefinger, long, black nails etching against your s/c skin.

You sucked in a breath, face warming as he forced you to look up at him. 

He leaned close, that contagious smile of his growing wider and more snide as his thick bangs hung like a curtain around you, revealing a perfect view of his enchanting chartreuse eyes.

That unique shade of lime green was bestowed upon a rare, unlucky few, a ring of it mixing into the e/c iris' of your own. You used to see it as a signal of unending misfortune. Until you met him and he made bad luck appear as something to be controlled.

"... Undertaker ...." You uttered, eyes flitting to his lips.

He let out a low chuckle, his chest reverberating against your own. "Give me the choicest laughter! You know exactly how perfect of a gift that'd be." His usual cheery laugh returned and he cupped your cheeks in his cold hands, rambling about what a joy being able to laugh is.

You wanted to be upset with him for teasing you at first, but couldn't help laughing along with him.

"Well, I haven't got any jokes now, but when I find a good one, I'll be sure to tell you, okay?"

He giggled. "Of course, Dearie."

You leaned forward, leaving a feather light kiss upon his soft lips.

His smile didn't fade and he simply caressed your cheeks with his thumbs until you pulled away.

You stood in a blissful silence for a moment, gazing at him lovingly until you remembered you each had a job to do.

"How's your work going today?" You asked, turning your attention to corpse resting in the delicately carved coffin behind the Undertaker.

"Smooth as always." The man said, leaning against the wooden frame of the girl's eternal bed. "Quite the interesting one, she is."

"Oh? How come?"

Undertaker glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a smirk resting on his lips.

He was expecting something.

"Aw, I told you I don't have a joke right now. Can't you at least tell me about this?"

He hummed remorsefully. "Sorry Dearie."

"Please, Undertaker ...?"

He tapped a thin nail against his lips. "I suppose this time I can accept other forms of payment from you, Dearie."

You smiled and eagerly gave him a kiss. "So? What's her story?"

The man leaned down, brushing the girl's bangs away from her closed eyes. "All of my customers are so lovely. I do what I can to make them even more beautiful. Each has a unique story to tell."

Your eyes followed as his hands moved to adjust the neckline of her dress. He was always so careful and attentive when taking care of his cadavers. If they all could see how well fostered they were in his care, you were sure they'd be swooning in their graves.

"Such a rare case. This one might just be the first of many."

"What do you mean?" 

Undertaker scrapped his fingertips against the wooden frame of the coffin as he stalked towards you. The sharp, skirtch, skritch, skritching of his nails started a shudder that coursed through your spine, your ears rang and you squirmed, fisting your skirt in your palm.

His cheshire grin proved pleased with your reaction. "A very important piece of them is missing. One you have all your own."

"And ... what piece would that be?"

A gasp escaped your lips as he suddenly gripped your waist, digging one long, sharp talon into the soft, delicate flesh just beneath your belly.

Then he leaned close, lips grazing against the shell of your ear and he whispered, "the one necessary for starting a family of your own. U~ter~us."

You released a shuddered breathed before leaning as far away as you could, trying to pry his claw from your gut.

"That ... seems like hard work."

He chuckled and moved behind you, chin resting on your shoulder, arms wrapping around you, looking down on the poor soul who had the unfortunate removal.

"Indeed. Very few could have done such a fine job. I believe someone like yourself could have done it if the situation prompted for it."

"... Right."

The strange man pressed his nose against your neck, inhaling deeply. "You smell heavenly."

"So you like it? It's the gift I was given. Perfume. Rose scented. I'll have to ask where they got it so I can keep wearing it when it's all used up."

"If you'd like to, Dearie. Now, tell me, who's fortunate soul is under your care today?"

"Oh, you already know I can't tell you, Undertaker. But, since you did tell me a bit about your work, I'll tell you this: tonight's soul belongs to someone of very high status. Things may end up disasterous if I don't handle them carefully. Speaking of which, I should really get going so I don't get stuck with overtime. I've been on Will's good side for so long, it'd be a shame if I messed that all up now."

You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before heading towards the front door, pulling on your caplet and tucking your baker boy cap into your skirt pocket.

"Dearie?" Undertaker's voice called, causing you to pause, hand lingering on the doorknob as you turned to him.

"Yeah?"

"Your soul is a precious one. Take good care of it."

Your heart seemed to melt at his words and you couldn't wipe the wistful smile off your lips as you nodded.

"Of course, Undertaker. See you in a few."

He waggled his fingers at you as you walked into the busy streets, shutting the door to his secret work behind.

You stood with your back against the dark wood for a moment, mind hazy with the Undertaker's smile and gorgeous eyes that partially reflected your own. 

"Ah, you truly don't know the extent of power you hold over me, Undertaker." You mused, biting your lip.

You shook your head in attempts to clear your mind of him, dusted off your long skirt, and started in the direction of the palace. Can't keep the Queen waiting now can you?

Maybe on the way back you could pen a reply to the troupe and look around for their gifts. 

That'd be nice wouldn't it?

Though you couldn't just get them one thing, Lord knows how they'd fight over it. But, what could you send that'd be enough for each of them?

Maybe some candy? 

They didn't have the chance to eat many sweets back then, so maybe they'd appreciate it now. Of course, you'd have to get them Funtom treats.

They are the best out there and not to mention their creator was sort of a fan favorite around here.

"Make note to visit Funtom after work," you murmured to yourself, turning round the corner. "Ah, sorry, excuse me."

You bowed politely towards the man you bumped into and continued down the road.

You didn't pay much attention to it.

But the man did.

He didn't say a word, golden eyes simply followed you until you disappeared into the crowd. 

...

Your soul ... it wasn't anything like the others he's encountered before. 

It was incomplete.

Instantly, his interest was aroused.  It didn't make sense how a soul could be not all there, but that was what made him intrigued.  It wouldn't fill him, no, but it would make for the most interesting meal he's ever had.  He could feel that it was seasoned with impurities and fears.  This made your soul delectable to him.  To his kind.

Yes, his kind.  

If anyone else like him were to happen upon you, they'd waste no time in trying to devour you.  He couldn't let that happen.

He wanted it. Your soul. You. For himself.

And he decided then and there that he'd do anything to have it.

°°°

It was dark by the time you had to be outside Victoria's window. The moon was full, shining brightly against the vast rooftops, a cool breeze blowing through the air.

It was a beautiful night out.

You'd need to spent a night up above the dusky streets like this with Undertaker sometime.

Picturing the moment, you smiled and unhooked your billowy skirt, slipping it off your feet.

You dusted off the pair of black slacks you always wore underneath and made sure your caplet was secured around your chest.

You took the cap from your skirt pocket and put it on, tucking all your hair securely inside of it. You tugged your black leather gloves on further, weilded your heafty death scythe and entered the queen's bedroom.

All was quiet as you pattered softly across the thick, carpeted floor. 

The room was neat and tidy, the gold tipped furniture glinting as you walked past, all of it no doubt due to the palace servants' diligent cleaning.

A room like this was a luxury not many had a chance to even see. It was gorgeous and serene.

But something was off.

You pressed on further towards the canopied bed.

The soul in here felt faint.

Red curtains rippled softly from the wind seeping through the ajar window.

You held your breath.

The queen was mighty important, reigning this long had to amount to something. Now, you were tasked with assessing whether she was a valuable living piece in society or if another could just as easily continue in her place.

A big weight on your shoulders, others' lives hang in the balance.

Did the other souls you collected always ebb like this? You couldn't recall.

You licked your lips and reached for the curtain.

One ...

Surely it was nothing,

Two ...

Right?

Three ...!

"She's not there."

You jolted back, spinning around to face where the voice came from.

In the far corner of the room you could see the silhouette of someone sitting in a chair. Their legs were crossed, the tips of their shoes glinting under the moonlight, the white hem of their pants swinging softly as they bounced their leg. 

The human soul you were sent for still lingered in the room, yet strangely enough, you couldn't sense the accompanying presence of this other person's soul.

You tightened your grip on your death scythe, "Who are you?"

"What's it matter? I'm supposed to be here. You are not." The person stood and began to walk towards you. "Though your type always assumes you're needed at a specific time in a person's life. What a nuisance."

They stepped into the light and you could make out the rest of their features. 

They were clad in a white suit with lilac and gold adorning them. Soft hair was dove white, their eyes a soft purple, gazing down at the black, ruffled doll sitting in their arms. A sheathed long sword lay at rest against their hip.

Against the rays of moonlight streaking around them, they looked almost angelic.

They looked up at you, a smile adorning their lips.

"It must irk you to have to leave so soon after making the trip here. But may you rest easy knowing I'm deciding to let you run free."

You'd have to deal with them to be certain, but duty first.

"How thoughtful. But, I'm afraid my orders are clear, sir."

You threw back the red curtains behind you and peered into the bedded cavern. 

There, laying amongst the fluffy pillows and heavy blankets ... wasn't a person in sight. The queen wasn't there.

That didn't make sense. You knew Victoria was in here. Her soul was faint, but it was in here.

The person chuckled and you turned back to them.

Were they hiding her?

"Where is she?"

"Oh, I've already told you she isn't there. As her devout servant it is my job to ensure her safety from any and all intruders. And it is in your best interest to leave now, I will not say it again, Half-ling."

Just who was this guy? 

You flipped through your bingo book, confirming the time and date of Victoria's death. Tonight at midnight. If you took any longer tiptoeing around the issue with this person you'd miss the scheduled time.

You pocketed the book again and glared at the person.

"Interfering with a soul is exactly what I don't need today. What have you done with her?"

Their smile fell and they narrowed their eyes at you. "Do you never heed sound advice?"

"I may not be allowed to interfere with your life if you're not on the list. But I still have a job to complete and I'd rather not do it with all the headache."

You hefted your scythe, took a step forward, and swung. 

Swish!

Immediately the person was behind you, a single hand holding onto the end of your scythe, keeping it in place. 

They were stronger than you.

You strained to bring it down, to get out of their grasp.

"Honestly, there is no end to the amount your type pains me." They tore the scythe from your grip and kicked you to the ground. 

Much stronger.

You grunted, quickly turning over and crawled away from them. Your back stung from the blow, forearms and knees burning from the sudden impact of slamming to the carpeted floor.

You kept your eyes focused on them as they twirled your scythe in their hand. The sharp blade glistened dangerously in the moonlight as they stepped forward.

"Quite the dangerous accessory for a young lady. You wouldn't mind my confiscating it, would you? Of course not."

You scowled and braced yourself, palms planted against the floor, leg stretched out to hit them. You spun quickly, then shot up in hopes of knocking them off their feet and gaining the upper hand.

"I'd think you'd have a little more manners than this."  

Their voice was a soft whisper in your ear. Soothing.

Right before they landed a heavy blow to your side.

You gasped, stumbling as you were thrown onto the bed, clutching your side. You already knew they couldn't be human since you couldn't sense them. And clearly they weren't reaper since they were hindering your work and didn't own those familiar green eyes. But they couldn't be demon either, or else they would've taken a swipe at your soul by now. So if not those, then what?

Red curtains were yanked from their mount with a chink! You'd need to end this soon before they got to you. 

Turn, throw the drapes, lunge, and reach for your scythe!

You acted swiftly, ending up behind them with hands secured around an item.

You brandished it at the person. 

Wait ... was that the doll?

You stiffened suddenly sensing a surge of Victoria's soul coming from it. But that couldn't be right, could it? The Queen was a normal human not a doll. Unless ... you looked up at the soul-less person in the room with you ... this being did something to her.

They tore off the sheets then looked around perplexed for a moment.  Then their eyes landed on their doll. And the air grew dark and still.

"Enough."

In one swift movement their hand was around your neck and they pinned you against the wall. 

"Let's see how you fare now."

And just like that, they let you go, leaving you coughing and heaving against the wall. They stabbed your scythe into the plaster, the flat of the blade gently kissing your ear.

They were even faster than you.

They grabbed a fistful of your hair, knocking your hat off in the process, and yanked you forward. 

"I don't take kindly to those who take without permission. I've come too far now to lose anything towards the likes of you or anyone else. It'd do me well to get rid of you. You are unclean beyond belief."

They were seething.

At this rate you'd just become another Jane Doe, an empty husk in the the ladder of the English empire. There was no way you could move fast enough to counteract them.

But then, they softened and lowered their hand to caress your cheek. 

"But I am a magnanimous being. And an angel must always give the wicked a chance to repent. I can help you, if you're willing to recieve."

You grit your teeth. "In your dreams."

They chuckled, dragging their hand down to your neck. With their teeth, they slipped the ash glove off their other hand.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

Then, they tugged on something you hadn't yet noticed adorned your neck.

And an indescribably pain shot through you, for a moment your mind seemed to numb and blank. You let out a guttural scream.

They hushed you gently, pressing the glove past your parted lips, muffling your cry. "Shh, sh. It hurts, yes? I must teach you obedience somehow. Don't worry, the pain will subside. Though I suggest you don't try to take off this ... pretty, little collar if you wish to avoid more anguish. Only I have the power to free you, much like I would free any other wayward soul from their wicked ways."

They released their hold on you, taking the fluffed up doll from your trembling hands.

One thought made it's way through the stinging haze: get away from them

You spat out the drool covered glove and yanked your scythe out of the wall with one harsh tug. Then, with bleary eyes and gritted teeth, you ran for the open window to escape them.

Only to come crashing to your knees with another anguished cry. The burning, stinging sensation pierced through your neck where the collar sat and was spreading through your entire body like wildfire.

It was unbearable. 

"You'll be punished for any action I do not warrent. Each time will become more painful than the last."

You tried to claw at the collar, feeling the coarse leather and sharpened spikes beneath your leather clad fingertips. But also feeling the same intolerable burn seeping into your finger pads. Aching hands reached for the clasp. But there wasn't one. The collar encased your neck completely, coiling around you with no way to get it off by any means of your own. And the longer you kept pulling at it, the more unbearable the pain was. You had to let go.

But the pain persisted.

"STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"

The angel tucked the pretty doll in the crook of their arm, brushing back it's long gray hair gently. "You'll do as I say now, won't you?"

You nodded mindlessly.

Anything but that searing pain.

"Good, seems you can learn. There may be hope for you yet. I look forward to your cooperation, Half-ling."

And just like that, the blinding pain was gone. You slumped against the floor with a shaky breath, trying to get your bearings, scythe laying uselessly on the ground next to you.

They turned with a flourish, sitting back down in the plush chair once more, singing to the living doll in the most angelic voice you'd ever heard. Comforting the carefully crafted porcelain as if it was the most dear thing in the world to them. Listening, you could almost forget the intense pain they had inflicted on you just seconds ago.

But that was just it. 

Without the voice smooth as silk or tender hands softly caressing the plaything in their arms, this angel was simply a fierce monster, interfering with human life with no regard for the path they were originally intended.

"London Bridge is falling down, falling down ...,"

One of the fallen.

"Falling down ...."

[deadly-poets]

Baby, I'm Dangerous.

SUMMARY: Don (Y/N) is a well known cartel boss, her connections with Don Eladio became very well visible. She is a close family friend of the Salamanca family ever since she started to do business with Don Eladio, knowing Don Hector and various nieces. Especially the one that stands out the most, Lalo Salamanca, a bastard was his title from the woman. When Lalo comes back from Albuquerque with Nacho to see Don Eladio, he meets (Y/N) once again.

NOTE: This is a one shot! :) I was very much thinking of making this a fic but I'm not sure if others would enjoy it, but if you're interested, I would definitely make it a fic :)) or just one shot request <3. You may request a Don!Reader x Lalo one shots! Or even with other bcs characters :D. This is short because It's late at night and I'm tired 💪. Enjoy tho?

Word Count: 980

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Spanish Google Translate, Slightly OOC Lalo.

PAIRING: Lalo Salamanca X Don!Female!Reader.

✧˖°.(Y/N) FOUND HERSELF NEXT TO DON ELADIO, listening to him talk to Don Juan. 

The woman did not seem interested, as they only started to talk about Gustavo Fring, a cartel affiliate of theirs. 

What she heard had made a little mistake which made Lalo a little suspicious of the man.

With a big gulp of her drink in her hand, she felt her throat burn at the bittersweet taste of the alcoholic drink in her hand. 

She had to drink something to keep herself from falling asleep from all the standing, hoping to god that the day would end faster than it would.

Silence merged between the two men when he heard a familiar voice come into the distance, Lalo Salamanca was greeting the people around him, flirting with every girl in a bikini he saw. 

“¡Mira quien es!” (Look who it is!) Don Eladio exclaimed, watching as Lalo approached them.

(Y/N) wasn’t too happy to see Lalo, hell would you expect her to be. 

Lalo had his usual shit-eating grin upon his lips, looking at Don Eladio. 

“Don Eladio” was the words that escaped his lips, embracing Don Eladio in a hug like two siblings being reunited for a dinner party.

“Sabía que los americanos no podrían retenerte” (I knew the Americans couldn’t hold you) Eladio said as both males let out laughs, (Y/N) sighed, knowing she was going to need to get along with Lalo. 

When the Salamanca noticed, he returned the charming smile of his.

“Don (Y/N)! Look at you, all dolled up for me?” Lalo teased, only making the female bite back her tongue from sending death threats to him. 

Lalo lets out a chuckle, proud to get this reaction out of her, but he was hoping to get out of more than potential death threats.

Lalo had shaken Don Juan's hand, having a small talk about his arrival back home, thinking that he paid off the gringos to get him back here but Lalo had his ways. 

He peeked at the stack of wrapped cash neatly placed on the table. He smacked one of them, feeling the plastic wrap.

“¿Qué es tado esto?”(What’s all this?) Lalo questioned, looking back at Elaido and Juan. 

“Es lo que me trajo Bolsa de Fring”(it’s what Bolsa brought me from Fring) Eladio replied, Lalo raised his brows, nodding like he was impressed with what Fring had sent Eladio, Fring's men wrapping the money nicely like that, but Lalo knew his gift was going to be more impressive than Frings.

When the time came, they found themselves walking in front of Eladio’s house to see a brand new red car, it was impressive to see what Lalo had planned for the cartel boss like he was spoiling him with all his money. 

(Y/N) watched Eladio trace his fingers across the smooth surface of the red car.

Her (E/C) eyes glazed at the car, It was a nice car indeed, she wouldn’t even imagine giving Eladio this kind of gift like the cartel boss might have deserved. 

“Are you jealous?” Lalo queried, trying to examine her facial expressions but they were unreadable. 

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” (Y/N) sneered at his question. 

“Jealous that I’m not spoiling you like Don Eladio” He smirked, letting those words sink out of his teeth into her mind, Jealousy was not what a feeling that (Y/N) felt at all, she wouldn’t have cared less of what Eladio received. 

“Like I need your money, Eduardo” The woman hissed at him, Lalo felt tense hearing her call him ‘Eduardo’ but he seemed to like it. 

After what felt like hours, Eladio found the trunk of the car which in this newer car model was on the front of the car. 

Eladio called it the 'Frunk', letting out a laugh, he opened it to see a yellow box with a red sparkling now on it. 

He lifted the top of the box to see a bunch of cash stacked nicely like he liked it. 

(Y/N) hates to admit to these things but she was impressed with this amount of ideal setting for him. 

Like Lalo and Gustavo we're having some competition, who was best at giving gifts to Don Eladio. 

"You're the man!" Eladio exclaimed in Spanish, pointing at Lalo, only making the cartel man have a smile plastered on his lips at the words that came out of Eladio's mouth. 

"Did you hear that? I'm the man" Lalo said to (Y/N), making her chuckle at him. 

"Yeah, yeah. Don't rub it in on me, Eduardo" She said, crossing her arms, watching Eladio admire the car and the money in awe. 

Lalo knew that she hated when he would rub his victory in her face, that Eladio now would favor him over her. 

But he just couldn't help it, teasing the cartel boss was always his skill, and it was fun to piss her off like this. 

(Y/N) was a hard woman to please, Lalo knew that from the start, from the very beginning, he fell hard. 

He fell in love with a woman who would break his heart to a million pieces, and he LOVED it. 

[whore-crusher]

Small Drabble About my HL2VRAI HC

first time posting fanfic hope this goes well ... also yes i am well aware that hl2vrai isn't even out yet i'm just matpat theorizing brah

RATING: E for Everyone

TRIGGER WARNINGS: None

SUMMARY: Uncle Benrey helps Joshua change their file name to something they like better

:𓂂 • :★,:𓂂 • :☆:𓂂 • :★,:𓂂 • :☆:𓂂 • :★,:𓂂 • :☆:𓂂 • :★,:𓂂 • :☆:𓂂 • :★,:𓂂 • :☆

“Uncle Ben?” Joshua called, walking into the dark room. The only source of light was the large stack of monitors against one wall, all displaying different things. One showed cameras placed up around rebellion safe points, another being vital Combine technology information, a third being a YouTube ASMR video. The other monitors were things more similar to that third monitor than anything else. Benrey, which had been shortened to Ben by most in the past decade or so, was sitting in a musty office chair hauled straight from Black Mesa. It was apparently his favorite back and the day and he, “Couldn’t just leave it there.”

The chair turned around, revealing the man who Joshua had come looking for. Their hair, once dyed black, had returned to its natural dark brown color. Their eyes glowed an unnatural cyan hue, similar to their brother’s yellow colored eyes. A swirling pattern made it hard to look anywhere but into them. Ben had a natural smile resting on their face, their posture extremely slumped. Like usual, they donned their civilian uniform.

“Hey, Joshie!” She sat up a bit straighter. “What’s up? Ya’ need something from ol’ uncle Benny?” She rested her chin on her hand. Joshua anxiously played with the hem of their hoodie. Ben raised an eyebrow at the display in front of her. “Hey, no need to look so anxious. You know I’ll never be mad or judge you, buddy.”

“Grandpa C said you called me ugly the first time you saw my baby photo.” Joshua chuckled, rolling their eyes. Ben put his hands up, shrugging.

“Guilty as charged, but hey, I haven’t judged you since. At least not without good reason to.” They chuckled. “Now what’s up, you look like you’re about to upchuck on my nice floor.” Ben gestured towards the dusty, dirty floor. Joshua uh’d, shoving their hands in their pockets.

“I was wondering if you could change my file name..?” Joshua asked quietly. Ben’s eyes widened for a second, but not for long. She nodded, turning back to her extensive monitor collection.

“Of course, buddy. Come here.” Joshua walked over, standing over Ben’s shoulder. “Okay, what do you want to change it to?” He asked, opening up Joshua’s folder on his computer. Why everyone trusted him with their files, no one knew.

“Alyx, with a y.” Alyx replied, hands clenched tightly in their pockets. Ben rolled their eyes.

“With a y.” She repeated, chuckling. “Kids these days.” She deleted the ‘Joshua Freeman’ from Alyx’s file name and began typing a new one.

> ai_joshuafreeman |

> ai_ PLEASE INPUT FILE NAME |

> ai_alyxfreeman |

“How’s that look, buddy?” He asked, looking back at Alyx. Alyx nodded, smiling widely. Tears welled in their eyes. Ben turned towards them, wrapping his arms around them in a tight hug. “Aww, don’t cry bro.”

“Thank you, Uncle B.” Alyx hugged them back, happy with their name for the first time in a while.

“‘Course. If you ever wanna change it again, you know who to come to.” She pulled away from the hug, giving Alyx a thumbs up.

[darksvster]

paper faces on parade — ➥ e, one-shot, 4980 words viserys grants daemon his annulment when he returns from the stepstones. eager to get his brother remarried, the king hosts a masked ball for the ladies of the realm to meet the newly single daemon. determined to claim her uncle for her own, rhaenyra appears in disguise to seduce him, only to be filled with jealousy when she sees him dancing with laena velaryon.

a canon divergent fic a part of the dawn of daemyra collection

ao3 link

"I want to be freed from that Bronze Bitch."

Viserys' jovial face falls and he looks away, eyeing the crown of bone that his brother donned when he had walked back into the Red Keep.

"Daemon..."

"You said I could have anything. This is my request. Don't send me back to the Vale. Dissolve the marriage." Daemon never pleads, never begs, but this is as close as he's come. This is the largest bargaining chip he has and it has to be enough. The dreaded thought of being sent away, to that place where no one speaks Valyrian, no one has purple eyes nor silver hair. A place where he is a foreigner, an outsider, an unwanted interloper.

"Our grandmother made that match."

"And it was an ill-fated one. We all know it."

Viserys rubs his face, his older brother looks exhausted as he slouches in his chair. He looks frail, weak. How could three years change a man so much? (He thinks of himself, now scarred, half-broken, battle-forged.) "You would need to marry again to secure our house," he says after a long silence.

The words lift an unseen weight off his back. Daemon sighs, leaning back in his chair and feeling the noose around his neck loosen. "A wife of my choosing, Viserys."

"Not your whore. If that is your choice, I will deny you now and send you back to Runestone."

"I was shackled to that place at 16, Brother. Do you think I wouldn't have preferred to have a love match? We didn't all have Aemma pining after us." Looking at the expression on the king's face, Daemon nods to affirm. "Not the whore. The kingdom is full of women. I can find one."

Viserys thinks, silent as he strokes his chin. Then, after the longest silence of Daemon's life: "I agree. We will send ravens. I'm sure Lady Rhea will be happy to be free of you as well."

Daemon chuckles. "Everybody wins." He stretches his arms out dramatically, feeling young at this moment. Or rather, feeling full of possibilities. His body protests, parts of him still not fully healed from the burn of dragon fire and the savagery of the battlefield. Perhaps he's not so young anymore, but the future looks clear.

[timekeepertwister]

Case 0 Type P - File 2 - “Solace in Nightmares”

Location: The Witch’s House

Timeline: PET-K

Date of Record: April 30th, 1939

Affirming Witness: C/E-727

Subjects Involved: C/A-95, C/L-33, H/?-9.? (Multiple Unknowns), C/E-78, CDC/AO-727, RC/EO-77

Timeline Inspection Record Of: “Tower of Sweet Chaos” [Deviation Detected]

🥖 Baguette Cookie’s Note: Do Not Circulate This File Outside TBD Executive Panel Unless An Emergency Is Declared.

[APPROVED] [OVERRIDE]

The horned Cookie stared down the Witches as the Oven’s doors opened, black cape fluttering against the airflow of the Oven’s hot air with a gaze full of malice as she burst into sinister laughter. “Who could have known it was so simple! NOW I understand! The Witches were wrong! I refuse this so-called ‘destiny!’ I was reborn against anyone's will! A new body... How refreshing! From now on, you may call me Dark Enchantress Cookie. And you, Witches, will learn to fear me!”

Seeing this instance of Fortuna forsaking them for baking a cookie twice while infusing it with unstable magic mixed into a cauldron of dough, the Witches fled for their lives, scrambling for their belongings as they bumbled about running into each other in confusing terror as they made their way for the door.

Dark Enchantress Cookie only stared them down as they fled the scene and chuckled. “But where are you going so soon? You left your cake in the oven!” Turning to the other cakes left in the Oven and infused with dark magic, she shouted as loud as she could to rally the cakes left behind like the revolutionary she became, “ARISE, FORSAKEN DESSERTS! REJECT YOUR PITIFUL FATES LIKE I HAVE REJECTED MINE! THE WORLD DIVIDED INTO THOSE WHO EAT AND THOSE TO BE EATEN... WILL BURN! HEED ME, DESSERTS! IT IS TIME TO UNLEASH HELL ONTO THE WITCHES!”

The newly-rallied Cake Monster army she raised rushed out of the Oven towards the hordes of fleeing Witches, taking them down one by one. An endless horde of Davids taking on about a dozen Goliaths in a fiery blitzkrieg. Screams, howls, roars, and fire filled the air, slowing fading away into the night sky. Silence… until one forgotten Cookie approached, right arm already crumbled away, uttering, “Dark Enchantress… Cookie…?”

“I hear you, child...” she replied. “Poor thing, have you lost your arm?” She soothed the newly-baked Cookie in a motherly tone far-contrasting the rallying cry she shouted several minutes ago. “There, there. I have a gift for you. I believe this will serve you well.” She scrounged through the forgotten bits and crumbs left behind in the Oven and fashioned together a synthetic arm composed completely out of cake. “This arm will connect you with your brethren!”

Having his arm replaced with one made of red velvet cake, the Cookie replied, “Hmm... I guess... yes...”

“That cupboard holds the Ultimate Recipe. And you are about to witness what it is capable of!” She motioned to her new follower towards the door to lead him off. “Follow me, child. I will show you a better world.” And with that, the duo left to raid the Witch’s cupboard while she was away to exploit the Ultimate Dough’s true powers… but that’s nowhere near the end of everything in this Oven…

“What… happened…? Was my denial that ambitious…? To not be eaten by the Witches…? This isn’t how I wanted this to end…!” Covered in burns and thoroughly singed in regret, denial, and tears, White Lily Cookie looked onward into the fallout of battle created by the new Cake Monster Army and sobbed quietly near the dying warm embers of the fire when she heard crumbs fall onto the tray. All she could do is look in paranoia as her perceptions of the world around her had been shattered thoroughly to see… another Cookie? Heading TOWARDS HER?! “W-who’s there…? I’m not ready to be eaten…!”

“Please… don’t scream…” A modestly-regal Cookie approached, donning a dress red as velvet with a few ruby accenting accessories. A red velvet cake with black-flame candles on her head as a hat. Her right arm was not that of a Cookie, but of a deep crimson cake striped with white frosting. The staff she held had melted into a shade of scarlet, an amethyst gem seen towards its peak. She reeked of black magic, but the Cookie held no malice towards White Lily Cookie. “This should never have happened at all. My dreams… gone… burnt to the ground. This dough… the Ultimate Dough… t’was that which is to blame.”

“Ultimate Dough…?” White Lily Cookie was puzzled. She heard the Witches mention the Ultimate Dough after she fell in, but she didn’t feel anything that could be remotely considered ‘ultimate’ at all besides the feeling that her hatred, rage, and denial had manifested itself into a new Cookie with the Ultimate Dough as its vessel. Shaped to fit a new form similar to that which was held by the original her.

“Yes. The Ultimate Dough is a canvas for greatly amplifying one’s will unto the world. If their intentions are pure, the dough can truly make the world a better place. But if their will is intent on destruction and chaos… this world is as good as doomed. Just as you saw, your intentions for denial manifested into Dark Enchantress Cookie. A dark, twisted avatar of yourself hellbent on executing your will in that heat of the moment.”

“I see…” White Lily Cookie answered. “…but who are you? What were you doing in the Witch’s Oven tonight, on the Night of the Witches?”

“Come, listen closely. There is much more to this world than meets the eye.” The unnamed Cookie sat White Lily Cookie down on a cake crumb before she sat down herself. “My name is Scarlet Cake Sorceress Cookie. I am one of three Harbingers of the Truth beyond Cookiekind. In civilization’s infancy, when the Tree of Life was but a modest tree before what it became today… before you and the other Ancients led your people into an era of peace… there were several Cookies that helped shape this world into what it is. Handpicked by the Sugar Swan itself. They only told you of five of them, but four of them would not exist without us Harbingers.”

“No… who are the Harbingers? What do you do?”

“Us Harbingers were tasked to shape this world and to aid the Millennial Tree in his endeavors in doing so. The first of us is the Avatar of Destiny. Ruler of the World of Light, they would be responsible for divinations and foreseeing imminent danger that would lead us to catastrophe. They would choose champions of Light to save the world for all living beings… even if the Witches couldn’t deliver. But as of recently, it has moved to deliver a new prophecy directly to Cookiekind: a prophecy of Armageddon.

The second of us is the Licorice Abyss. Sovereign of the Abyssal Licorice Seas, the Abyssal Leviathan Mercookie would oversee the deep abyss and any civilizations that existed in the darkness. Where light cannot reach from the heavens, he rules the murky waters of the abyss with a fair and just fin over the living and those who have sunken into the depths forever. His palace as of now is just off the edge of the continent of Crispia, where the coast of the Dark Cacao Kingdom is now. Their prophecy for the sovereign’s successor came in the form of a riddle: ‘Grown of the Land, Taken by the Abyss, Blessed by the Moon, a Leader will emerge to protect the Realms of Sea and Snow.’ Alas, we have yet to receive this successor as of recently to calm the recently restless seas.”

“Okay…? Now you then…?”

“Right. I am the third Harbinger: the Red Velvet Dragon. Protector of the Kingdom of Cakes. Master Cake Crafter. I was responsible for the prosperity of all Cakes and ensuring peace for all growing civilizations across Earthbread. My rule wasn’t always an easy one, but I made do where I could to make everyone happy but also protect them at all costs, including my powerful Cake Arm and my gifts in all manner of magic. Among all such spells, the Sugar Swan entrusted me with the Spell of Draconian Transformation, to assume my True Form as the Red Velvet Dragon and lead our people into battle against anything that would destroy the world. I also held the capabilities to cast Cake Magic; to manifest anything out of Cake, including living beings. But alas, dark and powerful magic comes at a price… a price that would conjure dark avatars to leave nothing behind but desolation and crumbs… including some of me. Everybody has a dark side that manifests such an avatar. No matter whether it’s this dimension or the next, one always exists for everyone in this world.”

“Dark side… of Cake Dragons?!” White Lily Cookie faintly recalled her battle with a Red Velvet Dragon alongside her friends. Pure Vanilla Cookie… Hollyberry Cookie… Golden Cheese Cookie… Dark Cacao Cookie… and herself. “Only with our powers combined could we repel the dark dragons and keep the world safe… but it wasn’t as we thought…”

“Neither did I. I was using this Oven for one of my grandest projects to date for a new Cake Castle atop this forsaken tower, alongside a new Cake Wolf cavalry regiment as well. But when this Oven uttered its song of fire on this very night, pulses of black magic fueled by rage and denial emanated from the Ultimate Dough before it molded itself into Dark Enchantress Cookie, imprinting this unbreakable curse of black magic onto me. Other forms of magic are at the tips of my reach. My people… gone… my kingdom… forsaken. I have failed my duty as Protector of the Kingdom of Cakes. Seeing these Cakes follow Dark Enchantress Cookie will only attract more of them to her rule, corrupted by her black magic… including my draconic colleagues. My best friends… gone. Taken by the darkness. Who knows when they will appear again and burn this world to ashes…?”

“Scarlet Cake Sorceress Cookie, was it?” White Lily Cookie asked. “I’m sorry for getting you involved in this… surely you haven’t seen this coming.”

“Nay,” replied the sorceress. “It’s not completely your fault. We had received a vision from the stars that the Night of the Witches would bring our undoing… unless somebody unexpected would change our fate.” She conjured a portal of dark magic to a dimension that White Lily Cookie had recognized in horror. “Aye, you recognize this dimension, yes? A subconscious dimension of spirits named the Lilywhite Space in your honor since you found it. Dunno whether it’s an honor for your aptitude or an unfriendly reminder of what a powerful mage can do when left unchecked. Until it’s safe for us to strike back, we must hide here… but it seems like we have a visitor out of place mentioned in another of the Avatar of Destiny’s prophecies… a prophecy of hope.”

“Hope…” White Lily Cookie had assumed it to be the last time she would use that word for a long time, but this didn’t seem right. “A visitor out of place…” She saw the tiny raven on the windowsill… but wait. Ravens aren’t normally that small! Only a shapeshifting Cookie could be that raven, especially one that wasn’t in the Oven. She took her chances and whistled towards it. “There it is! Is it you? The one they foretold would be a symbol of hope?”

The raven croaked and emitted a purple cloud, showing her true form as a short Cookie with a purple raven’s hood. She looked at them intently as she floated just far off the ground on her green feathered wings, purple talons at the ready for anything to come as she flew towards them. “I know nothing of the prophecy you’re talking about, but my mission in here involves you, White Lily Cookie. Against my friends’ wishes, I traveled back in time to find you before it was too late… but it seems like I was a few seconds off. The point is, my ancestor- your friend- Dark Amethyst Cookie is worried for your safety.”

“Really…? She’s worried… for me? After what I did to her…?”

“Yes. She’s worried because you’re our only hope to join forces with the other Heroes and defeat Dark Enchantress Cookie. Without you, the battle would be lost, and both her and Dark Enchantress Cookie know this all too well. If you were to fall before the decisive battle for the world, it would all be for naught for them. That’s why you need to be safely concealed from her until then, and that would be within this portal.”

“But I don’t even know who you are- oh! We’re flying…!”

The hooded sorceress Cookie tipped her hood and cast a levitation spell on Scarlet Cake Sorceress Cookie to safely carry her into the portal while clasping White Lily Cookie with her talons. “The name’s Radish Raven Cookie. Raven instincts, avian physiology, Cookie heritage. Daughter of Dark Amethyst Cookie, middle sister between Beet Cookie and Lantern Angler-Turnip Cookie. We can talk more about this later, but we need to get moving into this portal to Lilywhite Space before the Witch returns and eats us all! Don’t worry about me dropping you, my talons can magically clasp anything they grab, and my wings can support the weight of a Cookie a hundred times my weight and still keep me in flight. With the help of my telekinetic powers and and other spells in my school of psychic Dusk Magic, I’ve stayed on this path of keeping my friends safe alongside the greater world.” As Radish Raven Cookie flew closer and closer to the portal with White Lily Cookie safely in her grasp, she told the two, “Hold on, this might get rough…!”

“Telekinetic powers… psychic what- AAAAAAAHHHHHH…!” White Lily Cookie struggled to comprehend the concept of a psychic, half-raven, shapeshifting sorceress Cookie telling her all of this as the three went into the portal with the other two of them screaming on their way in. And once they were on the other side, the portal snapped closed behind them as if they weren’t even there.

Unaware of these three Cookies’ appearance and disappearance into another dimension, a disgruntled Witch kicked open the door with her robe and hat in tatters, grabbed a flask of milk, dunked a leftover cookie in it, and ate it as she muttered to herself. “Stupid tiny enchantress… pummeling all my friends… I baked all these cookies for tonight… and now my banquet with all my friends… ruined!” The Witch banged her fist on the table and shouted into the messy kitchen as she ate a second cookie, “I’LL GET YOU FOR THIS, YOU TINY COOKIE!!! YOU JUST WAIT AND SEE!!!”

——————————

[End of File 1.1] - [Previous: File 1 - “The Waltz of Walpurgis”] - [Next: File 2.1 - “To Sell an Heirloom”] - [Return To Case Record]

————————————————————————————————

Director’s Order: Emergency Declared. Lower File Security Clearance Level to Public. Locate White Lily Cookie ASAP. Cooperation with non-hostiles advised. Scramble the Timeguard Keepers Immediately.

Timekeeper Cookie 🕰

Croissant Cookie 🥐

Baguette Cookie 🥖

Dark Fondue Cookie 🍫🫕

Marble Bread Cookie 🍞🍫

String Gummy Cookie 🔫⏳

[APPROVED]

[mazisetsa]

Mazi hums to herself as she finishes washing the dirty dishes from a pleasant evening of working after her vacation as she gets a call on her linkpearl. 

“N-Niseh? E-Everything o-okay?” the fox asks hesitantly, tilting her head as she continues washing up the last few dishes. 

“E’erythin’s fine Mazi, jus’...” Niseh pauses, she knew she had to choose her words carefully for everyone's sake. “Nee’ ta tell ye somethin’. Yer still at the cafe, aye?” 

Mazi huffs freezing at the tone of voice, Niseh sounded pained with her words and she could feel the familiar pit of anxiety bubble up in her stomach. “...b-bad?” Mazi asks hesitantly as she dries her hands. Niseh huffs “No… I’ll be there soon.” and the line goes dead. 

‘Stay calm Mazi, I'm sure there is nothing to be worried about. Deep breaths.’  Yasu murmured softly in her head, brushing her massive body against the edge of their shared headspace. Another soft and anxious huff leaves the fox as she nods outwardly “... I-I k-know y-you’re p-probably r-right Y-Yasu, I-I d-do b-but… N-Niseh n-never s-sounds l-like t-that…” Mazi mumbles back, moving hesitantly to take a seat at the counter. “I-I j-just h-hope s-she’s o-okay.” 

‘I do not feel a change with Isa, I am sure she is fine.’ Yasu murmured yet again as soft footsteps could be heard from upstairs. 

“Mazi?” Niseh called as she walked down the stairs, a worried look on the older foxes face as she came to stand behind Mazi. Niseh gently wraps Mazi in a soft hug, well aware her adopted sister did not enjoy physical contact much. “Welcome ‘ome, sis’' she grunts patting at the smaller foxes head. 

“H-Hi…” Mazi mumbles hesitantly. Tilting her head back to look up at her sister “...E-Everything o-okay? Y-You’re n-not s-stabbed a-again a-are y-you?” she asks seriously, eyes glancing over her sister to check. 

Niseh chuckles, shaking her head “‘ells no. Ain’ plannin’ on gettin’ stabbed e’er ‘gain.” she mutters leaning down to rest her head on Mazi’s with a huff she knew Mazi would try and run. This seemed like the best way to prevent it from happening. “Ye…trus’ me righ’?” 

“W-With m-my l-life.” Mazi states a serious expression changing to one of utter confusion “W-What b-brought t-that o-on N-Niseh?” 

“W-Well… e-er…” Niseh sighs, gently tightening her grip on Mazi as she watches her closely “Ye sees… Seshi’s… ‘ere.” she murmurs as softly as she can manage. 

Mazi freezes in Niseh’s arms, breath catching as her eyes widen in pure panic. Seshi couldn’t be here. She knew Seshi wasn’t good at directions, she knew that was almost completely impossible. Yet Niseh’s serious but soft expression only made the panic bubble in her more. After a few moments she speaks up, momentarily finding the   “W-What… d-do y-you m-mean h-here N-Niseh?” she wiggles in Niseh’s arms “... N-No.” she squeaks weakly. 

“‘Ere as in… in town.” Niseh murmurs as gently as she can yet again “Ye’ve nothin’ ta worry ‘bout sis’... she jus’ wan’s ta talk.” 

“N-No.” Mazi squeaks, shaking her head as she wiggles more, ears pinning to her head as she stares at Niseh with panic. “I-I… d-don’t w-want t-too. I-I d-don’t w-want h-her t-to s-see m-me l-li-” she cuts herself off shaking her head “L-Let m-me g-go N-Niseh.” 

Niseh quirks a brow, turning Mazi in her arms to face her completely “Wha’ ye means ye don’ wan’ mother ta see ye like this Mazi? There ain’ nothin’ wrong wit ye.”  Niseh mutters sternly, tilting her head at the smaller fox. 

Mazi freezes again, breathing speeding up as she shakes her head, trying yet failing to look away from her sister. She’s quiet for a few minutes “... B-Broken…” she mutters quietly “... I-I…” she pauses, taking a deep breath at the ask from Yasu. “... I-I’m a-a m-monster b-because S-Seshi g-gave m-me a-away.. I-I.. d-don’t b-blame h-her, s-she d-did w-what s-she t-thought w-was… r-right.. B-but I-I… c-can’t l-live w-with S-Seshi f-feeling b-bad a-about w-what s-she d-did…” her voice breaks, eyes stinging with tears as she tries her best to keep some semblance of composure. 

Niseh freezes at the sight of tears, bringing her arms around Mazi as she dumbly rubs at the smaller foxes back, expression changing into one of sadness. “Mazi…ye ain’ a monster, ye ain’ broken, an’ I can promise ye Seshi is gonna love ye as ye ‘re.” she whispers softly into the smaller foxes shoulder. “Ye’ve done so much wit yer life sis… dunno ‘ow ye keeps up wit it all…Aye… yer star’ wasn’ tha’ grea’ bu’ ye made somethin’ outta it…” 

Mazi sniffles, shoulders gently shaking as she shakes her head yet before she can disagree Niseh speaks again “Listen ‘ere. Ye’ve done well fer yerself, ye’ve gotta bloody ‘ouse, a business, an’ wonderful frien’s. Ye’ve made a difference in Doma, ye’ve learned shite in Sharlayan, ‘ells ye’ve e’en been offere’ tha’ job Mazi, if ye was broken ye’d be ‘idin’ inna room off somewhere wastin’ ‘way.” Niseh growls leaning back to stare Mazi with a stern look, a hand reaching up to gently wipe away the tears sliding down her face. 

“Seshi jus’ wan’s ta talk an’ ye both migh’ be surprise’ if ye ‘grees ta.” she murmurs softly after a moment, letting Mazi catch her breath as Mazi pouts. 

“... P-Promise…?” she whispers tilting her head up to her sister “W-What’s t-that m-mean?” she mumbles dejectedly puffing out her cheeks. 

“Swears on me life Mazi, I’ve go’ no reason ta star’ lyin’ ta ye now.” Niseh murmurs with a reassuring smile, “I’m prou’ o’ ye an’ e’erythin’ ye’ve become.” her smile morphs into one of mischief as she eyes Mazi. She knew the smaller fox was curious, so much so that her curiosity could get her out of her comfort zone. “Seshi’s stayin’ a’ the inn in Ul’dah, why no’ go see fer yerself?” 

Mazi looked to in deep thought before she shook her head “I-I… n-need t-time…” she whispers quietly, ears still pinned to her head as she finally manages to wiggle out of Niseh’s arms “H-Have a-a… e-erm… g-good t-trip, c-call m-me w-when y-you w-wish f-for u-us t-to t-take I-Isa… a-and u-um…” she pauses letting out a shaky breath “... l-let S-Seshi k-know I-I n-need t-time…” she trails off scurrying up the stairs, and out the door within a matter of seconds. 

As she’s hit with a pellet of rain she squeaks, picking up her pace, too many emotions, too many doubts all running through her head as she begins running, She doesn't stop.

[wardenparker]

You’re So Vain - Chapter 9

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Oscar winning star Dieter Bravo’s reputation is suffering after the debacle of “Cliff Beasts 6″ and “Beasts of the Bubble”, so his management team has signed him on to a publicity stunt to find his soulmate and show the world a softer side of the erratic and unpredictable star. The plan quickly go awry, though, when Dieter’s soulmate wants nothing to do with him.  

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+! We finally made it! Word Count: 23.6k Warnings: *Blanket warning for chronic illness, cursing, and deceased family members. This is a Dieter fic, folks, so there absolutely will be discussions of drugs, drug use, and addiction.* Enemies to lovers, talk of illness, sex talk, mentions of masturbation, biting/use of teeth, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, protected sex, bath sex, praise kink, hair pulling, sarcasm as intimacy Summary: On your first full day together in Switzerland, there are big changes on the horizon. Notes: For my birthday, I happily bestow upon all of you: more sex! ✨🙌 There is a LOT going on in this chapter, but it is all so very worth it. We’re finally turning the corner into the lovers half of enemies to lovers, so the fake dating tag has disappeared!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

Dieter managed to sleep for nearly fourteen hours, slowly being pulled from the dredges of dreamland by the incredible warmth. He hums slightly, feeling himself crack one eyelid open to find that you are snuggled up against him. Both of you finding your way to the middle of the bed in the night.

The bed jostles under you, shifting you from your dreams, and the first thing you notice is the warm presence beside you. “Mmm?” Still halfway asleep, you instinctively nuzzle closer to the warmth, not registering or even caring what it is, only that it is warm.

This is the morning after he had imagined. Not that he imagined clothes, but just having you shift and your arm sliding around his waist, holding tight to him as your cheek nuzzles his chest. A feeling, peaceful and happy floods him, eyes now open and looking down at you. “G’morning.” His voice is rough with sleep and he clears it gently.

Mmm.” The realization is quick to hit you - why you’re so warm and who exactly you’re cuddling up to - and honestly you just can’t bring yourself to be anything but happy about it. Last night had been nice, and the sun streaming through the windows as you crack your eyes open promises a beautiful day. “Morning,” you murmur, lifting your head slightly to be able to smile at him.

"Look at that..." Dieter blinks a few times and reaching down to smooth your hair back. "You didn't turn into a pumpkin or disappear after midnight." He teases, knowing full well it was after midnight Geneva time when you both had crashed.

“Imagine that.” His large hand seems to span a whole side of your face and it has the oddest sensation of gentleness and almost protection to it that makes you lean in his hand before he can pull it away. “I guess I’m not Cinderella after all.”

Dieter chuckles and continues to rub his thumb over your cheek bone. It's soothing to him, and from the look on your face, you aren't minding it either. "Still tired or are you ready to move a little?" He asks, curious to know what you want to do today.

“Dirty.” You snort, still half-asleep enough to make a lascivious joke out of his question in your head.

Chuckling again jostles you slightly, moving with his chest. "I let you sleep in my bed and you're all over me." He teases, making sure that his other arm is firmly around you so that you don' t move away.

“Totally.” Despite the wry tone of your voice as you finally fully wake up, the easy teasing between you makes you fluster a little like if you hadn’t had to leave last week, this is how you could have been instead.

"Did you research everywhere you wanted to go while you were on the plane?" He asks, knowing that travel is a big thing for you. Especially since you haven't been able to do so in such a long time. "Any idea what you want for breakfast or things you have to see?"

“I think we’re a little past breakfast.” Pointing past him to the clock on the side table, the time very definitely reads midafternoon already. “It’s too late in the day to take a train to Basel. Maybe we could check out the Musée d’Art et d’Historie? I think in summer the restaurant puts tables outside so you can eat in the museum gardens, so we can stop and eat whenever and then go back to wandering.” The truth is that you did extensive research on what you would be able to see and do and have a whole list of ideas, but art museums are at the top of your list.

"The Museum of Art and History is it." Dieter nods, giving you a small grin. "Do you need to shower again, are you dirty from just sleeping?" He smirks as he remembers that night. "I mean...this time you aren't painted in my cum."

“I—um—” You sink under the covers in embarrassment, figuring it’s only a matter of time before your whole burning hot face sets everything on fire. “I’ve…been meaning to thank you for that…” You admit weakly. “I’m not on birth control because I’m just not very active…so that whole thing could have been…it could have been even more complicated than it was.”

"Shit." His eyes widen, shocked at how quickly he would have messed things up for you. "It's a good thing then." He agrees. "I know we are trying this communication thing, but I doubt you - or anyone would want to have kids with me."

“I do want kids.” It’s not something you ever thought you would have - between not ever having lasting relationships and the extreme cost of adoption and en vitro fertilization - but it has always been one of those far off hopes and dreams of yours that you liked to think about right before bedtime to induce good dreams. “Just…I think having one by surprise would not have been a good idea.”

He's surprised at that, but then again, he isn't. You are good with Nora, loving your niece like she is your own. "I agree." He murmurs softly.

“Anyway,” you can feel him going tense and you don’t want to lose the soft, gentle wake up you’ve had this afternoon. The arm you still have around his waist squeezes him gently and you have to wonder if a kiss on the cheek would be too much. It really shows how fucking full circle your opinion of him has come since Disney and that night at the hospital, but you can’t say you’re upset about the change. Sometimes it takes hard truths to bring people together. “Let’s get up and wander down to the museum. I’m sure Libby would be just thrilled if I wore some of the clothes she packed for me and we took a few pictures for Instagram. Then we can lay off and not think about social media for at least a few days.”

“Social media.” Dieter rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I just don’t get it. Entertainment, okay, it’s mildly amusing, but I want to talk to people.”

“I didn’t even have an Instagram before this whole thing started, remember?” You shrug slightly, shifting in his arms but immediately wishing you didn’t have to.

“I try to ignore mine until I can’t anymore.” Dieter confesses, smirking slightly. “I wish they would just take it over, but they want me to post myself sometimes.”

“We can throw Libby a bone today.” Happily giving in to talking a little more, you resettle in his arms easily. “So she doesn’t call twelve times asking if we’ve killed each other yet.”

“I’m sorry she pushed you to come.” Dieter isn’t really, but is seems like something that he should say. “Hopefully you will enjoy it.”

“I was worried you wouldn’t want me here.” It’s like a truth serum has bashed you over the head all of a sudden, and you can’t quite stop yourself from telling him the whole truth. “That was kind of the only thing stopping me from getting excited. That and the expense, but the way things are now? Last night and this morning? I’m glad you don’t mind having me here.”

“To be honest, I wasn’t too fond of the texting idea.” Dieter tells you. “Too often text can be bad because you can’t hear tone.”

“I didn’t want to ask too much from you,” you admit quietly. “I don’t really know what your life is like when you’re working, and I had no idea if you would actually want to put aside time to talk to me.”

"On set, I don't text or anything." He admits, looking up at the ceiling. "I try to - not to necessarily be in character - but to keep myself focused on the production. I barely every have my phone on me. Keep it in my trailer. But when I'm off set?" He chuckles quietly. "If there's no one to talk to, it would have been me demanding your time like a whiny toddler." He can admit that about himself, especially now that he's sober.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about it now.” Although you do file away the knowledge that he doesn’t keep his phone on him on set so that you won’t get worried or annoyed if he doesn’t reply to something in the future. “I’m here, so anytime you’re not working is time spent together. No whiny toddler necessary.” You shoot him a grin. “The actual kiddo would love some pictures, though. And I have to find her the perfect souvenir.”

"We will have to find her some amazing souvenirs, her and Steph." Dieter agrees before he tilts his head in confusion. "I thought you were spending the summer with her, is she going to go to daycare?" He has remembered talking about it the other day. Why you had to leave instead of letting Steph drop her off at daycare. He understood it, actually liked the idea of summer activities with a little human, especially as one as cool as Nora.

“Actually, um…Rico is helping out at the house while I’m gone.” Not that you had been able to look him in the eye when he got to the house to bring you to the airport. Not now that you remembered the drive back to Dieter’s house from the party. “He seemed excited about it…said it helped him miss his nieces and nephews a little less. And Steph is okay with it, so that’s what matters, really. He’ll look after Nora while Steph is at work and stay long enough to make dinner like I usually do.” The man had seemed nearly ecstatic at the chance to work days and get back a bit of that feeling of seeing his family, and it will help Steph so much. It seemed like the perfect solution.

"That's great!" Dieter isn't surprised that Libby enlisted Rico into helping with the entire situation. That woman was resourceful, and Rico was someone who she could count on for whatever. It was the main reason that she hadn't objected when he had decided that instead of just being his driver slash bodyguard, he had asked him to just work for him doing whatever. Rico had cart blanche in his house and she was fine with it. "He's fantastic, he'll have Nora worn out playing by the time Steph gets home. I'll have to message him to remind him to take her over to the house to swim on those really hot days."

“I appreciate that he was so willing to help out.” They had gone over Nora’s food restrictions on the drive to the airport so he could start to grasp the strangle hold on his cooking that was about to happen. “I…I’m not going to lie, I was shocked when Libby called to inform me of my flight time. But I’m glad I’m here.”

“She does that - take over.” There is something that is incredibly intimate about laying in bed with you and talking about things. It’s relaxing and comforting. Both of you seeming to be even more honest even when you aren’t looking at each other. Maybe it was a good thing that Libby had stuck her nose in it. “At least there’s a trip out of it, if nothing else.” He jokes, stroking your side with his hand. “And maybe you can keep me from bouncing off the walls.”

“I’m not magic,” you tease, laughing a little when he huffs indignantly. “I dunno, when I feel like I’m bouncing off the walls, I try to keep busy. Maybe just having someone with you so you’re not so lost in your own head will help?”

"I— yeah." Dieter acknowledges with no small amount of chagrin. "I think it will help. I know that I'm not...great, but a lot of times I just don't like to be alone."

“I don’t like being alone, either.” That’s something you can definitely acknowledge, staring up at the ceiling of the beautiful suite’s bedroom. “Living alone sucked, and as much as the reason I moved in with Steph and Nora is really hard, I love coming home to them and making a home for them.”

"I'm sorry about your brother." Dieter murmurs softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your spine and sighing quietly. "I know that it was hard for you. I know exactly how that feels. It tears you apart."

“I’m sorry about your sister.” The fact that you both had beloved siblings torn from you is a bonding point that no one should have to share, but here you are. A second after you say it, though, you refocus on him with curiosity. “You said your mom was Swiss, right? Does that mean you have family here?”

Here's where Dieter's smile tightens slightly. Shrugging his shoulder carelessly, as if it doesn't matter, even though it had hurt quite a bit growing up. "I don't…exactly...know." He admits, swallowing harshly and then blowing out a breath. "She wasn't exactly...present a lot." His eyes slide away from yours, not wanting to see pity in them. "Danica - even though she was my twin - she was more of a mother to me than our mother. She's the one I went to when I needed comfort or something was wrong." He gives a small huff of exasperation. "Only reason we knew she was Swiss was because her accent wasn’t like everyone else's and we found her passport when we were - I don't know, 11? 12? God, she got so pissed that we snooped through her stuff. But we were looking for our birth certificates so we could get a library card."

“Is it something you might want to explore? I mean…shit, I’m sorry that she wasn’t there for you. But if you wanted to, I bet we could poke around a little? Maybe just find out what town she was from we can visit?” You’re not suggesting he reunite with his long-lost relatives or anything extreme, but sometimes just being in a place can be cathartic and meaningful all at once. “It’s just a thought. You don’t have to decide right now. I just…you already like it here. Maybe it might be one more thing to like?”

"I was supposed to come here with Danica." Dieter closes his eyes, squeezing them against the rush of moisture. It's been nearly ten years; he's not supposed to cry. "I had just gotten my first part that was being filmed in Switzerland and I was bringing her with me. She was - she was going to be my personal assistant so it was a 'work trip', but we had been excited about it." He sighs. "After...I was just too fucking high to care to look into anything."

“The offer is on the table.” You tell him softly, not wanting him to feel pushed or pressured. That won’t help this trip be a positive thing for either of you. “If you decide you don’t want to, just forget I ever said anything.”

“I’m kind of scared.” Dieter admits. “My father was never in the picture after they divorced. I got his last name and his looks, but never his time. My mother didn’t really want two kids and let us know it. It’s been just me for a long time.”

The feeling that hits you does so like a freight train. It knocks into you with a certainty that is shocking in equal measure with stubborn, and the way it grips your insides and twists. “You’re not alone anymore,” you murmur, turning your head to look up at him. “Not if you don’t want to be.”

His hold on you tightens, just briefly and he has to clear his throat, something stuck in it. "I appreciate that." He manages after a few seconds. "More than you know."

“Come on,” you’re both a little emotional, and you’re not sure that re-crossing that line with him is what he wants, or a good idea, or what, so you lean up on your elbows and try to smile encouragingly. “Let’s get the day started. We’ve lost a ton of it anyway, we should enjoy what’s left.”

"I've got the next two days off." Dieter groans when you shift away, missing your body heat.

“Do you have something else you’d rather do today?” He had only asked if you had ideas - that doesn’t mean that you absolutely have to do the thing you came up with.

"I had just planned on walking around. Being a tourist for the day." He admits, smirking as you climb out of the bed and stretch.

“We can do that, if you would rather.” The museum certainly isn’t going anywhere, and after the heavy moment that just happened between you, you’d rather be easy going about everything. It’s not like you’re anything besides a tourist here anyway. The most you’ve seen of Geneva was the drive from the airport to the hotel.

"How about we walk to the museum?" He compromises. "Do both of what we want?" He wants you to enjoy yourself while you are here. Make sure that you go home with nothing but positivity about spending time with him. Not sure why it's so important, but it is.

“Look at us, communicating and compromising.” The smile you shoot him is broad and a little teasing, but honest. “I’m going to get changed and wash my face, all that morning routine stuff. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Dieter watches you walk into the bathroom and checks his phone, arching a brow when he sees Libby's text. "Enjoy the present I sent you. Work your shit out. XOXO." Huffing and rolling his eyes at how eloquent she could be at times.

******

It’s about a half hour later that you’re grabbing your purse to leave the suite, with a few quick texts exchanged between you and Steph while Dieter was getting dressed. Apparently, Nora had demanded a geography lesson of all of Western Europe last night so she could see where Auntie Gigi and Uncle Deedee went, and then giggled for a half hour about Gigi and Deedee rhyming. “Ready?” You ask him, hiding a grin as he pats his pockets to make sure he has everything he needs.

"Where's my fucking earbuds?" He huffs, twisting his neck and looking around. "I just had them." He hates being without them, even if he wasn't planning on using them. It's a good distraction technique. If a fan sees his earbuds in, they are less likely to come up to him. Sometimes.

“By the coffeemaker.” Three steps away, you grab the little pouch that they live inside when they’re not in his ears. “You put them down to make an espresso.” Dieter has…eccentricities. The sunglasses. The earbuds. A general refusal to wear socks unless forced. These are things you’ve noticed and try not to harp on anymore. You’re sure there are thing about you that he doesn’t quite get, so why make it into a big thing? Instead, you just hand over his earbuds without further comment.

“Thanks.” Dieter sighs in relief and then tilts his head. “Seems like I’m being extra, but it keeps someone who might come up and interrupt us away.” He explains. “They think twice when I’m wearing them.”

“Makes sense.” You nod, even though you never would have thought of that in a million years. Of course people would hesitate to approach him in ear buds. It’s the same reason Steph calls you on her walk to the parking garage after work sometimes. “I’m used to finding lost stuff for people. You have no idea how many times Nora has lost her Jessie doll’s hat.”

“I’m sure that would be a complete meltdown.” Dieter chuckles and reaches for his sunglasses to hook into the collar of his shirt in case he needs them. He’s actually worn decent clothes, and brushed his hair. A nod to those IG photos you want to take. “You know, I could get Joan to record a birthday message for Nora.” He offers, thinking about it.

“You would be elevated to God status.” You tell him with full honesty. The two of you step out into the corridor and head to the elevator, not minding having to wait a little for it to arrive. “Uncle Deedee being friends with Jessie? She would explode.”

“I did a play with her a few years ago,” He can’t help but grin when you call him Nora’s nickname for him. “I think that is something we should plan for her next birthday. Make it a Toy Story themed event. Get them ponies to ride. Whole nine yards.”

“You’re going to steal my place as favourite extra family member,” you tease, laughing a little but mostly just impressed with his enthusiasm for the idea. “If you’re going to be around at the end of September, I’ll run the idea by Steph and see what she thinks. Maybe…maybe I can help you plan? I mean I don’t know Joan Cusack or anything, but I’m pretty good with kids’ parties, and I can make all the food so that Nora can eat whatever she wants without worrying about accidentally eating something that will make her sick.” The elevator releases a mother and daughter who pay neither of you any mind as they walk past. “Birthdays are usually low key in our family. She deserves a blow-out.”

He has to bite his lip to keep from frowning at your idea that he might not be around for Nora's birthday. Maybe you meant it as if he might be away filming. Hopefully you aren't implying that he would be out of your lives by then. Although, given the past interactions he could see why you might think that. "I don't know shit about planning kids’ parties." He admits, chuckling quietly. "I don't think my idea of party favors are appropriate."

“We don’t…we don’t really do big stuff. This will be the first year that Nora is in school, and the first year she has a chance to really make friends and be social.” The shrug you offer him is more to make him laugh again than anything else. “None of us know what we’re doing. But Steph used to throw big parties for Shawn and me every year that were always fun. So I say we plan as a team.”

"I promise you that we will make it a birthday party that she will never forget." He tells you with a grin. "We will order those bouncy house thingies, get a petting zoo and pony ride thing. Cowboy and cowgirl themed."

“She’ll love it.” The afternoon sun is shining happily when you step outside and you both reach for your sunglasses instantly. Lake Geneva is gorgeous and very reflective. “What do you do for your birthday?”

"I don't know how I should answer that." Dieter huffs with a rueful grin. "It's normally spent being as heathenistic as I possibly can get." He admits, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. "I think this year will be a little different. More sober."

“Maybe it’s time for some new traditions?” Turning right down the street, the sheer number of people out and about has the two of you shoulder to shoulder almost immediately. “Sober doesn’t have to mean boring.”

"A lot of it was to forget." He doesn't know why but because his hand is brushing yours, he reaches out and captures it, holding it in his. "I'll get some bullshit text about Danica and spiral." He huffs, reminding himself that he needed to not let his mother affect him anymore.

“I can’t say I know exactly how you feel since Shawn wasn’t my twin, but I get it in a lot of ways. It’s only been two years but I already can’t talk to my parents on his birthday. All they want to do is wail about how unfair it is, but do they ever come and spend time with his daughter — their granddaughter?” Realizing you’ve hit annoyed and slightly self-righteous; you give his hand a squeeze and slip your fingers through his to lace your hands together. Having him close talking about Shawn and his sister just feels…less lonely. “I guess we’ll all have new birthday traditions this year.”

“I don’t speak to her.” Dieter announces, wondering if you will judge him for it. “I don’t answer her. Most of the texts are either guilting me about my sister or asking for money.”

“You don’t owe her anything just because she gave birth to you.” That’s something that your own parents had tried on you when you had decided to move to San Juan Capistrano instead of staying in San Francisco and being their live-in caretaker. “It sounds like she thinks of you as an ATM, not a son. So fuck that.”

His brows raise in surprise, looking over at you with admiration in his eyes. “My abuela - god rest her soul - would have loved you.” He tells you. “She would have smacked me upside the head for being rude to you. That woman could make God fear her.”

“It’s not like I was great to you.” It’s embarrassing that that footage of you slamming the door in his face will be out in the world for forever, but things are what they are. All you can do now is try to make it better. “Abuela?” The question escapes you before you can pause, and then the information floats back to the surface of your mind from all those years reading interviews in teen magazines. “Right. Your father was…Cuban? Chilean? I used to know this but now all I can remember is that it starts with a ‘c’.”

"Chilean." He hums, wondering how much you had known about him before that incident where you had decided that you hated him. "She was a wonderful woman. I think it's why my father stayed as long as he did, he was scared of his mother." He laughs quickly before sobering up. "After she died, he quickly exited the scene. I think we were six? Seven?"

“I’m sorry.” A small squeeze of your fingers around his is an invisible-to-the-rest-of-the-world gesture just for him. The longer you spend together like this - not fighting, just getting to know him - you realize he doesn’t have a ton of things that are just his. “My grandparents were never really around just because of where we lived. The couple of times that my parents managed to convince them to fly out for Christmas or Thanksgiving were huge deals, but I can count the number of times it happened on one hand.”

Dieter squeezes your hand in a comforting gesture and is quiet for another few steps. “Well that got depressing fast.” He huffs after a moment. “What were we talking about?”

You chuckle quietly and shake your head, having to admit that he’s totally right. “Birthdays, I think.” The topic had turned to your siblings are such things often do, and you had been sort of okay with it. Mostly because you didn’t really know how to answer the question that was inevitably coming.

"How about your birthday?" He asks, realizing that he doesn't know about your traditions or wants. Wanting to learn about them though.

“Normally we go to the drive-in.” It’s been tradition your whole life, even as a little kid it was such a special way to experience a movie. “Shawn and Steph and I would make a bunch of different kinds of popcorn and pack up a basket of every kind of snack we could ever want. Nora’s favourite is Twizzlers, so now we just get a bunch of different flavours of that.” You shrug though, eyes skirting away from him temporarily to read the street signs. “This year will be…a little different. To say the least.”

"Why will it be different?" He asks, frowning slightly and stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, tugging you to a stop beside him.

“Because…” The pout on his face is actually sweet, knowing that it’s painted there because upset for you and not with you. Still, it’s not something you intended on making a big deal out of. “Unless you know of a drive-in theater in Geneva…I’m kind of shit out of luck.”

“Shit.” Dieter’s face falls and he gives you a plaintive look. “I’m sorry.” He rushes to apologize, knowing that it’s because of him that you won’t spend your birthday doing your tradition. “What if— what if you go home early? So you don’t miss it with your family?”

“It’s next week, and the drive-in will still be there when I get back.” It wasn’t until right now that you considered that spending your birthday with him might actually be nice. On the flight you had been going through ideas of things to do solo and coming up empty being the idea of spending the day alone seriously bummed you out. “There’s nothing wrong with new traditions,” you murmur, trying not to squirm or be too obviously nervous. “Maybe…we could do something together? I mean as long as you’re not working…i-it’s okay to say no, I just—” Too nervous to even look at him, your eyes have tracked back to the ground, just waiting to be told that there is some reason he can’t or won’t want to celebrate the birthday of the woman who spent weeks spitting venom at him. Even with as far as the two of you have come, you wouldn’t blame him for that.

“What day?” He asks, making a mental note to figure out something to get you for a gift. Even if you aren’t going to end up together most likely, you are his soulmate. “I will make sure to tell the director I’m unavailable for filming.” He promises, squeezing your hand slightly. “I wouldn’t make you spend your birthday alone in a strange country with no one you know around you.”

“It’s Thursday…” A week away, and somehow you feel like you could fucking cry just from him promising to spend it with you. It’s probably an overreaction, you think as you squeeze his hand back gently, but at least it’s honest. “It—it’s not really that big a deal, I mean it’s not like I would normally be spending the day in extravagance or anything I just—” You stop, shaking your head at yourself, and actually manage to look up at him again. “I mean, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Dieter sends you a grin and shrugs. “Who knows, maybe by that time you will have gotten to know some of the cast and crew and we can go out together that night?” He offers, wondering if you plan on spending any time on set. “Unless you prefer to just do your own thing while I’m working.”

“I might do a little wandering on my own a few times, but as long as I’m allowed on set I’d like to spend some time…ya know — seeing what you do. It’s going to be a hell of a lot more exciting than teaching teenagers color theory and composition.” The crush of pedestrians around you has pushed the two of you up against the nearest building as you stand there, holding hands and talking through things. “I’m sure we can find something to do without a lot of fuss.”

“No fuss?” Dieter grins and shakes his head. “You do know what the Swiss have for a birthday tradition, right?” He chuckles, a lightly evil look on his face. The streets are still moderately packed, but everyone is keeping to themselves and he is enjoying seeing your reaction.

“No…?” The most you know about Switzerland is chocolate and paintings, but from the look on his face he’s about to either make up the most ridiculous thing in the world or lay down some bizarre fact.

Dieter chuckles, tugging you closer to him and letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around you. Still walking, he leans down to whisper into your ear. “The Swiss hire evil clowns to follow the birthday person around and torment them before pushing a pie into their face for good luck.” He reveals, giggling slightly at the thought of you being chased around by a clown. Not because he doesn’t like you now, he’s just always wanted to see it in person. That fact had stuck out when he was a child and learning about his mother’s home country.

“They do not!” You nearly roll your eyes at him despite the fact that your arm automatically winds itself around his waist in turn. “You’re making that up.”

"I'm serious as a heart attack!" He cackles at your reaction, only slightly disappointed he didn't get fear. He can actually do it if you aren't terrified silly of clowns. He doesn't blame you. The entirety of the last two generations fear of clowns lies firmly at Stephen King's feet and that is a hill he will die on. "It's true!" His body warms where your arm is around him and he makes no move to pull away, enjoying the easy gait the two of you fall into as you cling to one another.

“Then I’m putting in a special request for one of those old-school Vaudeville hobo clowns and not a Pennywise style clown because that scares the shit out of me.” You’re laughing as you walk down the street, and it feels so oddly natural that you can’t question it. It just…is.

"Damnit." Dieter makes a show of snapping his fingers in disappointment. "There goes my birthday surprise." He jokes, jostling your shoulder slightly as he crushes you against him before relaxing his hold to a gentler grip.

“I guess you’ll have to come up with something else clown related,” you snort, grinning at him nonetheless.

He pouts at you, purely because he can and when you scrunch your nose at him, he can't help himself. Even though you are still walking, still making your way down the street, Dieter leans in and drops a quick kiss on your lips as if it's the most natural thing in the world. In that moment, to him, it is.

For a split second your whole body stops working - brain short-circuiting and feet forgetting how to walk - but a moment later the brightest and softest smile creeps across your lips that you couldn’t hold back even if you tried. “What was that for?” The question sounds a little dreamy, but you’re honestly curious as to what about the moment that just passed between you was kiss-worthy. Because whatever it was, you may or may not want to file it away for future reference…

“I’m sorry.” Dieter panics for a second until he sees your smile. “I just— it felt right.” He murmurs lamely, not able to express how good that teasing felt. Just being easy around each other and joking about things. “Your nose scrunch and snort was cute.” His cheeks burn with embarrassment, although he doesn’t know why.

“Snort and scrunch my nose more often. Got it.” The deep shade of pink in his cheeks is endearing as hell and you only hesitate for a bare second before kissing the spot where he’s blushing most. It’s like something a kid would do, and the innocence of it warms you through. “You’re cute when you blush.”

He scoffs slightly, not believing it for a second, but he feels his cheeks heat up even more. “Whatever.” He huffs and shakes his head. “Not cute. Sexy— not cute.” He jokes.

“Nah. The blush is definitely cute.” Shaking your head, you squeeze his side a little with your hand that is on his waist and nod toward the other side of the street where the museum’s imposing edifice awaits. “Come on, Bashful. Let’s go see some art.”

“Thank God.” He breathes out with a grin. “Naked portraits!”

“There he is.” That natural reaction of laughing with a crinkle in your nose and a small snort as the punctuation of the giggle is so normal for you that you don’t really notice you’re doing it, you’re just enjoying the moment of light teasing.

“God.” He huffs, trying to not let his cock ruin the moment but it’s twitching when you repeat the small actions that made him kiss you. “Now you’re doing it on purpose.” He whines as he drops his hand away from your shoulder and turns, standing in front of you and cupping your cheeks while he kisses you again.

When you remember how to speak again, you’ll swear up and down that you didn’t do it on purpose. It was just a silly moment with an accidentally perfect reaction. It’s slow and sweet and both of your arms slide around his waist in the however many seconds or minutes or hours it lasts. Right in the middle of the sidewalk in the busy streets of Geneva, the only thought in your head is him - and that’s enough to have you smiling against his lips in the moment.

Dieter's head swims, making him feel like he's the highest he's ever been. All from the sweet, firm press of his lips against yours. It's not rushed, it's not demanding, more like a first kiss between kids - but it affects him like the strongest drug he's ever taken. Making his eyes flutter shut and his hum vibrate against your curling lips. A response that has him smiling right along with you.

Surprisingly, neither one of you moves to deepen the kiss too much, keeping it light and relatively chaste until you both have to pull away to breathe. Your head is spinning, and your stomach is tying itself in knots as you slowly open your eyes at look at him. “I…um…I’m really glad I came.”

“I’m glad you came too.” Dieter wants to kiss you again, but he doesn’t. Knowing that if he does, you might not make it into the museum.

“Museum’s waiting.” With your lips pressed together to chase the feeling of his on them, you can’t help but fluster a little. You feel like you’re floating, but at the same time like he’s your anchor in a sea of possibilities.

“Naked portraits.” He reminds you with a small grin. “We can find our favorite and see what draws us to it.”

“Planning on picking some to recreate?” One teasing eyebrow raises itself at him as he slips his hand into yours to cross the street together.

“Depends on how they’re posed.” Dieter giggles slightly, happy that you are still teasing him. “Some of those positions are hard.”

“Yeah.” Smirking, you knock his shoulder a little as you cross over to the other sidewalk. “But you will be, too.”

“Fuck.” Dieter has to reach down and adjust slightly as he walks slightly behind you. Tugging on your arm as you still hold his.

Your devious giggle rings out in the air and you shrug at him when you reach the opposite sidewalk. “I had to. The punchline was too good.”

“Mean.” Dieter frowns and pouts at you, but it’s all playful. He’d rather have this version of his soulmate than the one that hated him. “Question before I embarrass myself.” He says suddenly. “Why didn’t you get tattoos?” He asks, wondering why there are no marks on his skin from you beyond the scar.

“At first?” You sigh a little, knowing that it’s not exactly a happy answer. “It was because I didn’t want to cause you any trouble on sets. I know covering tattoos isn’t easy and I didn’t want to make things harder for you.” The shrug you give him is weak at best. “Then it was so you wouldn’t have extra ways to find me,” you murmur, eyes drifting to the ground in embarrassment.

Given what he knows, it’s very in character for you. “We should do it.” He decides with a nod. “For your birthday, we should get you a tattoo you want.”

Your head snaps up again, surprise written across your features that he would even suggest something like that. A tattoo of your own choosing isn’t something you have ever considered, but somehow - from him - it seems like such an intimate suggestion. “Wouldn’t that make things harder for you? More marks to cover?” You’re not looking for an excuse not to do it, you’re just genuinely wondering if your young logic actually made any sense whatsoever.

He snorts. “I would hope that a face or neck tattoo wouldn’t be your first choice.” He admits with a chuckle. “But you have worn all my tattoos that you hate for years. The studios cover them up if they don’t like them.” He gives a small, nonchalant shrug. “What’s one more?”

“I don’t hate them anymore.” That is essential for him to know - that knowing their meaning has changed your opinion on them completely. His triangles for his sister, the elephant for luck and strength and good fortune, the bullseye to remind himself to stay on target. “Maybe we can come up with some ideas during the week? As long as…as you’re sure you wouldn’t mind wearing my mark?” It’s an incredibly permanent decision, and if the time came when he decided he wanted nothing more to do with you, he would still have to look at it every day.

“You’ve worn mine.” Dieter points out, walking up the stairs to the entrance of the museum to get in line for tickets and the audio tour guide log in. “I don’t think it’s exactly fair that I wouldn’t carry something of yours besides the scar on our hips.

“It would probably be something for Shawn, or Nora.” You admit, knowing how your brother and your niece have meant absolutely everything to you in a different sort of way than Steph has. “Or—” A shake of your head interrupts your own thoughts as you pick up a museum map. “Yeah, probably something small for Shawn.”

“Or?” He tilts his head, curious to what you might have said. “There’s no wrong answer when it comes to art.”

“Or…” Not cutting yourself off fast enough meant you knew he would pick up on it and you let his hand go long enough for him to pay for your entry into the museum. “I have this series of water colours I started this summer. The favorite flowers of all my favorite people. Stephy’s pink peonies, lavender for Nora, bright red poppies for Shawn. Yellow zinnias are my favourite. I bet…I bet a little bouquet of water colour flowers would be nice. But that would be a lot for you to wear.”

“Where would you want it?” He asks, actually enjoying the visualization in his head.

“I don’t know.” The idea only just struck you, so it’s not exactly set in stone in your head yet. “Maybe on my back? Like at the shoulder blade? Or on my thigh? Plenty of canvas space in those places, and easy to cover for work.”

“I think on your shoulder blade would be pretty.” He immediately thinks of kissing the area as he’s pulling a backless dress off of you. “But the thigh would allow you to cover it up if you wish. For dresses or whatever. Does your school have a no tattoo policy?”

“They have a no inappropriate tattoos policy, but flowers wouldn’t touch that. And…and this summer is really the first time in a decade I’ve worn anything but long sleeves, so all my work clothes would cover it anyway.” You need hardly remind him the lengths you went through to keep his own ink hidden from the world. “But…it would be on your shoulder, too. Would you be okay with that?” Anytime he went shirtless for absolutely any reason, it would be right there on display.

Dieter looks over at you, raising his brows in an ‘are you serious?’ look. “I think it would look gorgeous and especially because I know the background behind it, anyone who didn’t like it can kick rocks.” He was fiercely protective over his own tattoos and would feel the same about yours.

“Well,” you clear your throat slightly, feeling a little tightness in your chest at the idea. “What’s your favourite flower, then?”

“Lily of the Incas.” Dieter smiles slightly. “My abuela would have a back yard full of them, among her vegetable garden.” He bites his lip, remembering her crooning to the blooms in Spanish. “She had brought them from Chile and babied them.”

“Lily of the Incas, it is, then.” Whatever you had expected, that definitely wasn’t it, and you’ll have to look the blooms up to get a good reference picture to draw from. But it seems…right, somehow? Like his is meant to be there alongside the rest. “And who knows. If there are ever more kids in the family, I can always add more flowers.” In your head you’re mostly thinking of Steph remarrying, but over the last twenty-four hours the idea of actually having a future with Dieter has become not impossible.

He bites his lip, barely resisting the urge to ask you what you mean by that. His heart pounding slightly and he wonders if he’s entered a twilight zone where anything is possible. Instead, he hums in agreement and wonders what kind of flowers you would assign your kids, if you had them. Not with him though. You wouldn’t want that.

The museum is elegant despite being crowded, cool in spite of the August heat, and the perfect place to spend your first evening in Geneva. Even wandering from painting to painting you’re never far from each other and that extends to the game of dragging each other across galleries to whatever random piece has caught your eye.

It’s been a long time since Dieter enjoyed something that didn’t include drugs or alcohol. It’s freeing, being with someone who knows about art. Of course you know, you teach it. So he doesn’t have to explain the style or what it makes him feel. You get it. Making him laugh and trying to pick out pieces that you would never guess he likes.

The Rembrandts are where he nearly loses you, enraptured by a sketching of the painter’s wife, Saskia van Uylenburgh. As much as you may always say you love Impressionists the most - and it may be fully true - portraiture really does have a special place in your heart. From careful lines shaping her face and delicate wisps of hair straight through to the way Rembrandt captured her soft expression and draped her in beautiful clothing to be admired for an eternity…it’s all exactly the kind of romantic moment on canvas that you love and you just can’t tear your eyes away for anything.

You’ve stares at the same portrait for nearly twenty minutes by the time Dieter decides to approach you again. Instead of standing beside you and making some joke about buying it, he comes up behind you, setting his chin on your shoulder. “What’s your favorite thing about it?” He asks, knowing that look on your face.

“She looks like she has a secret,” you murmur after a second, tilting your head to consider the woman in front of you. You ask your students this question all the time, but you rarely pose it to yourself, so it takes you a second to elaborate. “But instead of focusing on that, he has carefully sketched every single hair on her head and the exact way her eyelashes direct her gaze. So we’re not wondering what she’s looking at or thinking about…we’re seeing her with all of his softness and love.”

“It’s his tribute to her.” Dieter hums. “Painting her as he sees her. Through the lens of love.” His hands rest on your waist and he sighs gently. “I wonder how she would have drawn him.”

“I’d like to think her favorite things about him would come through.” Leaning back into the warmth of him, Dieter’s arms slide easily around your waist to hold you close and you swear you nearly sigh at the softness of it. “He drew and painted himself so often. I hope her favorite things about him were things he never realized could be good.”

He grunts against your ear, content to be talking art. “Maybe that’s why I hate self-portraits.” He comments. “Nothing to really like.”

“I do, too.” Tilting your head slightly, you resist the urge to point out that he is an internationally renowned movie star with millions of fans ready and willing to throw themselves at his feet, and instead you leave a kiss on the bridge of his nose. “Maybe one day you’ll let me paint you?” The unruly beating of your heart is something you pray he can’t hear or feel because it’s sure to give you away, but still, you can’t resist asking. If he could see himself the way he looked beside you in bed this morning, he might get the smallest glimpse into his own softness and delicacy.

“If you want.” As much as Dieter was photographed and filmed, being painted seemed intimate. Personal. “We need to make sure you’ve got supplies.” He remembers suddenly. “You can paint while you are here.”

“I brought my watercolors and my pencils.” You admit, heat reaching your cheeks at how enthusiastic he sounds about the idea. “I thought…if you didn’t want me on set, ya know? I could still paint.”

“We – I always get some oils when I’m on set.” He admits, acting like it’s not any big thing. “I paint in my hotel room and normally give away the canvases to cast and crew.”

“We’ll get some supplies, then.” There is no way you’re going to change his routines on him, and if he’s willing to let you do a portrait when he’s already professed to hating them? That is a level of trust that you definitely don’t want to take for granted. Each building block you lay down together is monumental at this point, and you refuse to take any steps backward. “Maybe we can do that tomorrow?”

“That sounds good to me.” Dieter throws you a quick grin. “We can see how we differ on art supplies and you can try to tell me how wrong I am.” He teases.

“Bickering in front of the paintbrushes sounds very on brand for us.” The image alone actually makes you laugh, where a mere two weeks ago it would have induced a cringe.

Chuckling with you, he shakes his head. “Do you want to get some food?” He asks softly. “You have to be hungry.”

"I'm a teacher," you remind him with a rueful grin. "I run on caffeine and the apples my students leave on my desk." With his arms still around you, it's easy to just turn around and let yourself be held close to his chest in the middle of the gallery where you have been standing. "Let's wander down to the restaurant and have some dinner. You must be hungry, too."

“I could eat.” He admits, happy that his stomach isn’t gurgling. “If anything, maybe check out some of the chocolate shops.”

"How about we get dinner downstairs but not dessert, and then go wander through every sweet shop we can find on our way back to the hotel?" A night of hanging out and snacking your way through little boxes of Swiss delicacies sounds like a version of heaven that you didn't even know existed before now.

“That sounds like a plan to me.” It sounds like fun. “I think you’re going to be a dark chocolate caramel with sea salt kind of girl.” He guesses playfully.

"Am I really that predictable?" You throw him a pout as the two of you start to shuffle back toward the belly of the museum. "I bet you are...chocolate and hazelnut. I'll have to guard my Nutella when you're at the house."

“I would sell Nora for Nutella and pretzels.” Dieter jokes with a small laugh. “Or chocolate dipped fruit.”

"I know it's just a giant stereotype of women and romance or whatever, but I love chocolate covered strawberries." Every year on your mother's birthday you'd watch as she opened the chocolatery box full of them from your father and wish that one day someone would spoil you like that. "So I'm totally with you on chocolate dipped fruit."

He groans, rolling his eyes in pleasure at the mere mention of chocolate covered strawberries. “Now you’re speaking my language.” He huffs. “Rico makes them for me all the time and they are so good. Even better when he soaks them in vodka.”

"I'll take you one better." Reaching the stairs, your fingers find his again, lacing together to take the steps at a leisurely pace. "Instead of soaking them in vodka, next time soak them in crème de fraise to double down on the strawberry flavour. Stephy and Shawn made them for me one year for my birthday and I just about cried they were so amazing."

“That sounds amazing.” He is nearly drooling and for s second, imagines feeding you the strawberries and being able to taste them from your lips. “I’ll have to make sure you get some.”

"Some to share." After all, Steph was very right about one thing - you have been lonely. And unbelievably? Dieter seems to be unlocking that door you've been hiding your heart behind for a hell of a long time. "I really...I really think this trip should be as much about both of us as it can be. Since we have the chance, ya know?"

He’s doesn’t know why it shocks him to hear you say that. But it does. He nods, liking the idea of that a lot. “That sounds good.” His hand tightens around yours briefly and he looks over and shoots you a small grin.

The restaurant is buzzing busily when you arrive, and the hostess kindly offers you English menus upon very obviously recognizing Dieter, but she doesn't say a word beyond that. Your table is tucked under an overhang in the courtyard, and you can't resist the very touristy impulse to take a picture to send to Steph. She would love it here, so you're not going to miss a single chance to take pictures for her.

Dieter chuckles as he sits down, opening the menu to peruse the selections. “Switzerland is one of my favorite places, but China was an adventure.” He muses. “I think you would have been amazed by some of the locations.”

"I'd give anything to be able to travel like you do." It's wistful, not bitter, and you grin when you manage to snap a picture of him before he can object or make a fuss. "I mean I know you're working most of the time but even just the little chances to get out and look around you must be amazing."

“It is.” He’s lucky and he knows it. Traveling and working together fed his wandering soul. “You could always be a traveling art teacher.” He suggests. “If that’s a thing. I mean— it should be.”

"Go with you from set to set and give art lessons to the cast and crew?" It sounds silly, but at the same time also kind of cool? Like a way to exist within your chosen career in some kind of fantasy world. It's hard to be a teacher post- COVID, that's for sure. "High schools are hard as shit places to be these days, I'm not debating that. A lot of my colleagues have left to pursue other things."

Dieter doesn’t answer, thinking about it seriously for a moment. “Actually that’s a pretty cool idea.” He admits, not even diving into why having you follow him when he’s working sounds amazing. “Plus, they are always commissioning artists last minute for set decor.” He takes a sip of his water. “I’ve had them use a piece of mine in a shot.”

"Like most kids who want to be artists, I was told to get my degree in something practical." You shrug, no longer upset about the demand your parents had made because honestly they were very right. At the time, though, you had furiously accused them of not believing in you and stifling your creativity. "Just being a painter was never going to be a realistic option. But finding a way to combine teaching, traveling, and still be able to make my own art?" The little, disbelieving shake of your head comes with a small whistle before you take a sip from your own water glass. "If that career existed, I would jump at it in a heartbeat."

“It could.” He agrees. “You just have to make it for yourself. “Imagine the idea of checking out small cafés around the world, working out deals to hold an art class in their shop for locals.”

"That's starting my own business." With your water glass still in one hand, you point a finger at him and nod. He's not wrong - it definitely could be a job for someone. It would just take creativity and a lot of money. "Starting your own business requires either capital or an investor. I mean, it's great idea. It would just take a hell of a lot of saving."

“I guess it’s a good thing that you’ve got a soulmate with a hearty portfolio.” He jokes before he motions between the two of you. “Even if you don’t want this.” he murmurs. “I don’t hate the idea of my soulmate being happy in her life.” He shrugs causally. “It wouldn’t be a big deal. Make a business plan.”

“I—” The comment takes you so completely off guard that you don’t even know how to respond. Is he implying that he wants it? Is he asking for your actual opinion on the topic? Is he throwing out the comment to try to gauge your response? “Do you want this?” It wasn’t so long ago that you despised each other, so you really don’t have a great bearing on his emotional state when it comes to you.

“That doesn’t exactly matter.” He says after a moment, deflecting as he looks back down at his menu. “I think I’m going to have the rösti and the cheese platter.” He decides.

“It matters to me.” The stranglehold it had on your entire chest waiting for him to answer made it perfectly clear that it matters a lot, but you’re not going to push him. Not when things are starting to actually go fairly well between you. “The mussels sound good.” If he wants to deflect into food, that’s fine. The last thing you want to do is ruin the day.

“A week ago I would have said no way in hell.” His words are soft, slightly shamed as if he was wrong for believing that. “But after the party?” He swallows and shakes his head, voice barely whispering now. “It’s not just the sex. It was great, but… I can’t describe it. It just felt like I was home.”

“Dee…” Setting your menu down, one hand reaches across the table for his and squeezes his fingers gently. As reassuringly as you possibly can. “That’s what Shawn always said being with Steph was like. Coming home. Maybe…I don’t know, maybe all the stupid bullshit in the beginning was just to make sure we didn’t take it for granted. I’m not sure. But…” It takes a second, but when you finally manage to get him to look at you, you can feel yourself stepping all the way out onto that limb you never thought you would try. “But I cried myself to sleep every night after that party afraid that I had ruined everything or that you might not have really wanted me, and I never want to feel that again as long as I live. So…what if?”

Fear and hope make his heart clench. For so long he’s used drugs, sex, sarcasm and just a facade of not giving a damn to hide that he was miserable. Lonely. His fingers stroke yours, curling around them and he clears his throat. “What if?” He murmurs with a nod, agreeing with the unspoken in your speech.

“We are soulmates, after all.” Fingers intertwined like a lifeline, you have to try your very hardest not to smile like a lunatic or put one hand on your chest to keep your heart from beating out of it entirely. “It would be kind of silly not to at least try.”

“We are.” Dieter agrees. “And it would.” He licks his lips and sends you an amused look. “Would you want to date me for real while you’re here?” He asks. “See what could happen?”

“I really would.” It doesn’t matter that your entire face is on fire having this conversation in a semi-public place, or that you’re squeezing his fingers much more tightly than would be deemed romantic, or that Libby and Steph are going to do a fucking victory dance when they find out it only took a day for the two of you to cave. What matters is that this is real, after an entire adulthood of fighting and denying it. “I think it could be really good if we let it.”

“I—I think that’s why Libby sent you.” Dieter confesses softly. “She figured out— my reaction to you being gone that morning. She knows me well enough that she knew that something had changed.”

“She’s an interesting woman.” Not exactly subtle or gentle, but caring in her own way. “I think we might owe her a thank you.”

“She’s been with me from the beginning.” He explains with a small grin. “Makes her think she can do what she wants.” She can but he doesn’t explicitly tell her that.

“She takes care of you.” Everyone should have someone who cares enough to fight for them, and even if Libby methods are unconventional they clearly work. “Rico does too, although I don’t think I’m going to be able to look him in the eyes ever again.”

“Rico’s seen much worse.” It might not be the best thing to mention to his soulmate, but he wasn’t even aware of you when that happened. “I’m sure it didn’t even phase him.”

Taking a slight pause to order your dinners when the waiter comes around, the young man is gone again quickly. “I think Steph likes him,” You tell him after a moment. “She doesn’t want to say anything to me since my brother was her soulmate, but she perks up like a dog getting a treat whenever he comes up in conversation.”

He snorts at your description, sending you a wary look. “And how do you feel about it? Since her soulmate was your brother?” He knows it can be a touchy subject, so he just wants to see if he needs to be cautious.

“I’ve been asking myself that,” you admit, knowing that some people believe your soulmate is the only person you should ever be with. Obviously you and Dieter don’t feel that way, and Shawn never did either. “She’s my best friend, and I want her to be happy. I’ve spent enough of my own life being lonely and miserable, I don’t want that for her and neither would Shawn.”

You don’t mean it as a blow, but it hurts nonetheless. Striking at his heart and making him feel something he hates - guilt. Guilt for the tattoos that he had adorned your body with, easily recognizable to the point where you had isolated yourself and hadn’t been able to get into relationships without him being a haunting specter. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs softly. “I know it must have been hard for you. Having me as your soulmate.” There’s no wine this time, but he desperately wishes he had a glass, reaching for his water.

“Hey.” Going for his hand again, you shake your head at him and lean forward. “I’m the one who chose to keep a secret. I’m the one who wrongly projected all my own bullshit on you. If anything, I’m the one of the two of us who has been making this all harder than it needs to be. I made the decision to keep to myself all on my own.”

He appreciates that, squeezing your hand quickly and nodding. “Rico— he— he doesn’t have a soulmate.” He tells you. “I think his must have died young, but he’s never talked about it.”

“Well, they’ve got three weeks together while he’s helping her with Nora and doing all the things Auntie Gigi usually does. Maybe they’ll get a chance to talk.” You doubt it would be much more than that unless something extraordinary happened, but then again who knows? “If something big happens I’ll definitely get at least a text about it.”

“As long as you are good with it.” Dieter comments. “He’s a really good man.” Chuckling, he shrugs. “He takes care of me, so you know he’s patient.”

“Steph deals with a chronically ill little girl and me,” you laugh. “She has the patience of a saint.”

“You are a handful.” Dieter smirks, sending you a small wink. “Two, in fact.”

The way you roll your eyes is entirely playful, and you’re still chuckling when the waiter brings your glasses of wine to the table. “She’s going to gloat like hell when we get home you know? Steph will. Since she’s the one who answered the Mate Marks campaign for me and started this whole thing.”

“Why did she do that?” That has been a question he’s had from the beginning. Especially since you had seemingly hated him.

“She didn’t want me to miss out on knowing my soulmate.” And as your best friend and sister, she had earned the right to meddle. No matter how mad you had been about it at the time. “And she knew I was too stubborn to do it myself.”

“You? Stubborn?” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “No.” He can’t even deny that he’s stubborn. “I remember we were at the Adele concert and things were going good and then you were just…upset again. Couldn’t figure out what had pissed you off again and just figured it was my mere presence.”

“I know I made things harder than they needed to be.” And honestly, you’ll regret that for a long time to come, but you can’t help the way you had reacted to fear with anger. “I didn’t know then…about your thing about sweaty hands.” Several times today he’s temporarily stopped holding yours to discreetly wipe his palm on his pants and it no longer bothers you. It’s just something he doesn’t like the feel of like you don’t like the feeling of having long leg hairs under tights. It’s just a sensory thing. “So when you…” Your eyes drop to the table in embarrassment, never able to hold someone’s gaze when you feel guilty or ashamed. “You let go of my hand and wiped your palm…it felt like touching me at all was so disgusting that you had to get rid of the sensation. And that is so ridiculous when I say it out loud. It was just me overreacting.”

“It wasn’t you.” Dieter promises. “My hands sweat, and I had a partner who hated it when I was younger.” He gives a small shrug. “It just became a habit for me.”

“I know that now.” And it makes you feel all the more ridiculous for the way you reacted then. “I didn’t then, and I took it too personally. I’m sorry.”

“I can see how it would look shitty.” He won’t deny that. Looking back always makes things look clearer. “It’s okay. I’ve just got quirks.” He jokes, grinning at you.

“Everybody does.” With your free hand, you take a sip of your wine and shrug slightly. “I don’t care about sweaty hands, but I hate wearing sunglasses at the same time as hats or headbands or big stuff in my hair because it feels weird on my ears.”

“Is that why you hated me wearing sunglasses?” He tilts his head curiously.

“No...” A small groan escapes you, more embarrassment flooding your system and making your face burn. “My parents were super strict about weirdly specific manners things when I was growing up and sunglasses indoors was a huge no-go with them. So, I just…projected. God, I’m so sorry how are you even out with me right now?”

Dieter chuckles and shakes his head, waving off your embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it.” He promises. “The sunglasses are sometimes a shield, a defense mechanism when I’m feeling vulnerable.” He offers you. “Danica used to tell me that eyes are the windows to the soul.”

"I'll remember that." You can promise him that without hesitation. Trying to be better - and be better for him - means making sure you're not accidentally making him feel uncomfortable about using the coping mechanisms he's developed over the years. "She loved you a lot. And I'm absolutely certain that she's sitting with Shawn watching us and having a good laugh about our stubborn asses right now."

“She always told me that my soulmate was going to give me a run for my money.” He laughs, his fingers tracing his inked in triangle.

“Shawn always thought you’d be so good for me.” And it had caused so many fights in later years that you wish you could reach back in time and wipe it all away. If you could erase every time you had ever yelled at your brother so that no time was ever wasted in negativity, you would do it in a heartbeat. “He said life outside the box was exactly what I needed.”

“I think that this might be the first impulsive thing you’ve done in a long time.” He agrees. “The contract, I mean.”

“It is. It’s probably the first impulsive thing I’ve done in my entire adult life.” When the waiter arrives with your food you can practically hear your own stomach rumbling, everything looks and smells completely divine. “And…really…I’m glad I did.”

“I’m glad.” He closes his eyes and groans quietly when he smells the food. Nodding to the waiter when they are stepping back and asking if you need anything else. “We are good, right?” He asks, looking over at you for confirmation.

“We’re good.” You confirm, not only meaning the meal. For once, you really do feel like things are going well.

Dieter can’t help the small smile, picking up a slice of the cheeses that are special to Switzerland before he pops it into his mouth and groans. “Fuck.” He hisses, picking up another piece and holding it out to you. “You have to try this.”

“Willingly sharing cheese? You are my soulmate.” You laugh easily, but as soon as you pop the piece of creamy, slightly funky cheese into your mouth you’re moaning right along with him. “Oh holy shit that’s good…I love Switzerland so much.”

“See what I mean?” Dieter chuckles and selects another cheese to try, wanting to share the platter with you so you can experience it.

“We’re going to have to do fondue one of these nights.” Nudging the overlarge bowl of mussels with fragrant broth and toasted bread into the middle of the table, you give him a hopeful look that says as much about how comfortable you are with him now as words ever could. “Share? They’re amazing, too.”

Dieter pushes his rösti to the middle as well. “This way you get to try twice as much.” He winks and picks up his spoon to offer you a bite.

“Twenty minutes in and we’re already that couple,” you joke, taking the bite of creamy, crispy grated potato magic he offered you with a happy hum and closing your eyes to savor the salty goodness.

“I can think of worse things than sharing food.” Dieter snorts. “Especially since there’s a pap at the table across from us. He’s discreet. Gotta give him that.”

“Seriously?” You hadn’t even noticed - apparently you’re going to have to learn to be more observant. “Well shit, Libby’s going to love this.” Not that you can bring yourself to care anymore. She played a good game and deserves the credit for it.

“I’m sure she will be calling soon, congratulating you on your forethought in making sure it looks good.” He laughs quietly. “We don’t have to tell her we are actually giving it a chance if you don’t want to.”

“She’s your manager and your public image, I would say it’s up to you.” The wine you chose is the same one that went into the broth for your mussels, and it is light and crisp and perfect in the warm evening. “I don’t mind telling the truth,” you tell him softly. “I’m not planning on hiding that I’m happy we’re giving this a go.”

He nods and takes another sip of his wine. “That is good, considering the photos will probably be up tomorrow.”

“And I’ll probably save them to my phone.” It might take a little while to go back through the paparazzi photos of the first few dates to find ones where you don’t look annoyed with each other, but now? Now they’re just a reminder of how far you’ve come. “Along with a bunch of other ones just for us.”

“Disney wasn’t horrible.” He reminds you. “I actually enjoyed myself with you. Although I hated having to spend the night with Nora in the hospital. Poor thing.”

“Actually…” Pulling your phone out of your purse, you scroll back about a week in your photo album and pull up the picture Steph took of him and Nora sleeping in her hospital bed to show him. “Disney was a pretty good day, despite Nora being sick. She’s a little warrior though, and she was glad you stayed…we-we were all glad you stayed.”

Dieter visibly melts at the sight of the photo. The little girl curled up in his lap as much as she could be with her thumb in her mouth, fast asleep. “Can you— can you sent me that?” He asks, clearing his throat after the first attempt to talk.

“Of course.” A few button presses is all it takes, since Dieter has been programmed into your phone for weeks. “Ya know…that night…when I mentioned responsibility to you, I wasn’t trying to tell you no or scare you off. I wanted you to want the responsibility of being Nora’s uncle.”

He flushes slightly, biting his lip. “Honestly that’s how I took it.” He admits. “I know your opinion of me sucked ass, so I figured you were warning me off your niece.”

“I wasn’t exactly clear,” you can see how he took it badly. That chalks up to poor communication again. “Honestly I was still reeling from kissing you so it’s not like I was at the top of my game that night.”

“It freaked you out too?” Dieter leans back and laughs. “I thought I was tripping again. That someone had slipped something in my drink and that was why it felt like the entire world shifted.”

“Oh my god.” Your deep laugh matches his, but you pitch forward in your chair to stifle a snort instead of leaning back. “It was literally just that good of a kiss that it freaked us both out. Fucking soulmate connection.”

“Fucking soulmate connection.” He agrees, chuckles dying out and he shakes his head. “And then the sex— it, fuck it was incredible.”

“I think I remember pretty much everything now.” Nodding in total agreement, you shoot him a smirk. “We need to pick up condoms.”

His brows shoot up. “You want to— are you sure?” He asks softly, not willing to push.

“I mean, no disrespect, but no one’s pull out game is full proof and as much as I do want kids I don’t think our half-hour old relationship could handle that just yet.” Although honestly? He’s so good with Nora that you could see him being a pretty good dad eventually. “I’m also not saying we should have sex again like right away. But sometime before I go back? Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Yeah.” He agrees with that. “I honestly am surprised that I remembered to pull out.” He doesn’t mention the phrase ‘yet’ he had heard. Knowing that the two of you are nowhere near that kind of talk.

“Well thank god you did.” Otherwise you don’t know what you would have done. Waking up the next morning and not knowing he had cum inside you would be a sex ed nightmare come to life. Not because of him - but anyone.

“Have you, uh, considered birth control?” He asks, fully aware that there may be some medical reason why you can’t. He’s not trying to push protection on you, he’s just genuinely curious.

“I was on it when I was younger.” It’s such casual conversation, the way the two of you go about it while your sharing your dinners, occasionally offering each other bites or stopping for sips of wine. “There just wasn’t much need when I was having sex once or twice a year tops.” You glance up at him, reading the expression on his face with a smile. “As long as we don’t kill each other before I go home, I think it’s probably time for me to go back on.”

“That’s up to you.” He promises. “I don’t mind wearing a rubber.”

“We’ll see how we feel about it, then?” After all, you have a few weeks to see where you’re at, and you’ve been seeing the same gyno for eight years. They’re not going anywhere. “No need to worry about it now.”

“Of course.” Dieter nods. “Better to just take it easy.” He agrees and pushes you the last piece of cheese. One that you had seemed to really enjoy.

“One step at a time.” In exchange for the cheese, you scoop the last mussel onto the last bit of bread for him and hold out. This time you’re very aware of the photographer across the way but just don’t care. So what if there are photos of this meal? You’re happy, and that’s what matters.

He manages to lick your fingers as he takes the last bite and chews with a grin. Sitting back, he rubs his belly. “Shit that was good.” He moans. “What did you think?”

“Fuckin amazing,” you grin, tempted to make a remark about how he better save room for you after all the chocolate you talked about buying if he licks your finger like that again. “And we made it through two whole meals without being upset with each other. I’m very proud of us.”

“Me too.” He smirks and nods in thanks when the waiter drops off the bill. “How was your first day in Geneva?”

“Honestly? Pretty great.” You fiddle with your phone, sending off a few pictures from dinner to Steph at home so she can see what you’ve been up to. “How do you feel about it?”

“Surprised.” He answers honestly. “In a good way. I expected to spend the day alone, probably sleeping most of it, this was much better.”

“You have tomorrow off too, right?” Since the two of you had slept the morning away, you had missed seeing your first Genevan morning.

“I do.” Dieter nods, wondering if you have something you want to do. “I have a 10am meeting for all the cast to do a table read the day after.”

“So what if we just take tomorrow easy?” Getting up from the table together, you grin a little when Dieter waves at the pap across the way to let him know he’d been seen, and you slip your hand into his on your way out of the restaurant. “Wander around the city, grab some paints and canvas, just walk around and see what strikes us? A low-key day before you have to start working?”

“That sounds like a plan.” It’s easy to agree, to find it simplistic and charming. “Maybe I’ll let you paint me while we’re at it.”

“I’ll do the sketch first.” If he’s going to let you do this, you want to do it right. Something symbolic of your new beginning together. Something happy. “But yeah, we can do that tomorrow if you want.”

“That’s completely up to you…l—I have to shave for this role.” He side eyes you as the two of you walk. “Everything but the mustache and they are cutting my hair.”

“You don’t sound thrilled about that.” Out in the night air again, you turn together to step down the street in the general direction of your hotel. “Not a fan of the mustache?”

“No, I actually like the mustache, I don’t like the haircut.” He tells you. “It’s going to be quite a bit shorter.”

“Less to dig my fingers into.” The half-smirk you shoot him is full of amusement. “Shame. Guess I’ll just have to be louder to compensate.”

“You’re a tease.” He’s almost delighted to discover that. “That’s just perfect.”

“It’s only teasing if you don’t intend to follow through,” you tell him with a solemn nod of your head. “Like if I told you I was gonna let you fuck me in the middle of the hotel lobby, that would be teasing.”

“Fuck.” Dieter groans. “So mean.” He huffs playfully. “You know I jerked off thinking about that night, right? Even as pissed and hurt as I was.”

“Really?” You had had very much the opposite reaction, being so upset about way things had gone so horribly sour that even your toys held no appeal. “I haven’t…I mean…until we talked on Tuesday it just bummed me out too much to even think about.”

“I—I’m not just addicted to drugs.” Dieter admits quietly. “I wouldn’t say that I am addicted to sex, but it’s something that is just— the rush of endorphins.”

“I honestly don’t know where my libido is at. It’s been a long time since I actually had a partner.” Squeezing his hand gently brings his eyes to yours and you hold them steady despite still walking down the street. “If it’s ever overwhelming for me, I’m going to tell you. But please don’t be afraid to talk to me about…anything. Okay? When I said I wanted to give this a try I meant the whole thing. Good and bad. I have my own shit too. Everybody does.”

“You don’t have a problem with me, uh, you know.” He gives a small shrug. “Being bisexual, right? You said your brother was, but it’s a lot different when it’s your partner.”

“Fuck no.” And you hate that he ever worried about it for even a second. “Just means if you see a hot guy we can look together.” Your expression softens, a bit more vulnerability shining through. “Just…. I’ve been cheated on before, and I can’t go through that again. And I’m not saying I think you’re more likely to because you’re bi or any of that bullshit. I’m just saying cheating is my line in the sand. No second chances.”

“I have a reputation.” Dieter admits. “Partying and people make assumptions of our relationship status. They thought we were exclusive and I was not of that opinion.” He huffs, squeezing your hand. “But I’m a consent is sexy type of person and that goes for who I can and cannot sleep with. When I’m in a relationship.”

“Do you see this as a relationship or as casual dating?” It’s a fair question, if slightly loaded. Knowing where he stands on this try you’re taking matters to you. “Just so I know, that’s all.”

“I think that it would be better classified as a relationship, don’t you?” He asks softly. “You’re my soulmate, that weighs a hit heavier.”

“I think so.” At least, that’s what you had assumed he meant earlier and you’re glad to have it confirmed now. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. With us sucking at communication, it doesn’t hurt to double check.”

“Absolutely.” Dieter agrees. “The reason I asked about being okay with my sexuality is because I do like...toys.” He ventures. “If it’s something you’re not into, I completely understand. I just had one – uh, Anika, it was a deal breaker.”

“Oh.” It’s not really something you had ever given much thought to, and your head tilts slightly to one side as you walk together. “I can’t say that I have any experience with toys for men. So I guess we’ll have to see?”

“You don’t have to.” He promises. “She just didn’t understand why sleeping with her in the traditional sense wasn’t enough.” He shrugs. “That’s what she thought using toys meant.”

“Everybody’s entitled to a little extra fun.” You nudge your thumb into his side a little and raise an eyebrow. “Which you’ll know, since I recall you remarking about my own toy collection at the hospital.”

“Oh yeah.” He grins at you and sends you a small wink. “I was curious to see what you had.” He defends himself, chuckling quietly. “I was impressed.”

“I brought a couple with me,” you admit, feeling that burn come back to your cheeks. “I had no idea we’d be sharing a bed, so I brought my own company…so to speak.”

“That makes two of us.” Dieter jokes, squeezing your hand. “If you want your own room. If I snore too loud or whatever, let me know.” He doesn’t want that, but he can’t control it if it’s how you feel.

“If you snore too loud I’ll just nudge you over. No big deal. But…” You shrug, knowing you’re going to sound awfully sentimental. “I loved waking up next to you this morning.”

“I was very happy about it too.” He confesses. “I’m glad I woke up this time.” He jokes, referencing how you said he slept through you trying to wake him.

“Pretty sure you woke up first this time.” Coming up beside the door of a chocolatery to your right, you nod your head toward the window. “Dessert?”

“We can’t miss out on chocolate while we are here.” He steers you towards the door with an eager smile.

It’s like paradise inside - wall to wall sweets and treats and staff that is polite instead of pushy. Every available surface is adorned with beautiful displays of the most mouthwatering delicacies imaginable. “I wanna live here…” you murmur, eyes wide in awe and absolute delight.

“Big sweet tooth, huh?” His own eyes are round as he takes in all the confections, drooling slightly when he seen the hand dipped chocolate strawberries. “Oh we have to get some of these.” He blurts out immediately. “The fridge in the room is going to be stuffed.”

“Worth it.” Practically groaning at the display of other chocolate dipped fruit, the case beyond has hand-dipped clusters of dried cherries and hazelnuts that are absolutely calling Dieter’s name like a choir.

“I think we need to order at least two of everything.” Dieter decides, looking over at you. “What do you think?”

“It’s an awful big shop for two of everything.” But he is completely beaming, practically glowing really, and you have a feeling he has an even bigger sweet tooth than you do.

“You’re right.” He hums, sending you a maniacal grin. “We can leave off all the dark chocolate, caramel and sea salt sweets.”

The pout you send him is fierce and immediate - he has just described your favourite chocolate in the whole world, and he knows it. “I was going to wake you up so nicely tomorrow, but now you’re being mean.”

He snickers and wraps his arms around you from behind, happy that you are allowing him to just touch you. It’s honestly a craving of his, connection. His lips brush over your cheek and move to the shell of your ear. “Okay.” He huffs playfully. “We’ll add them back.”

“Merci beaucoup.” Twisting slightly lets you brush a soft kiss on his cheek and your nose wrinkles on a grin.

******

In the end, you don’t get two of everything in the shop, but both of you are carrying out bags that are stuffed full. He’d insisted on at least four of the dried cherries and hazelnut clusters and both of you had agreed on a full dozen of the chocolate dipped strawberries. Though he had every intention of giving you both of the berries that were coated in caramel, dark chocolate and sea salt. For the price of a kiss.

“Finally someone who rivals my love of chocolate.” Back in the elevator to your shared suite, you sigh happily and lean back against his shoulder. “Thank you for today, Dee.”

“It was your choice where to go.” He reminds you, smiling at how good the day turned out. “But I have to say it was amazing, and pretty fun too.” He huffs. “Interesting saying that when I’m not higher than a kite.” He snaps his fingers. “Shit, I have to take my drug test for Libby.”

“You do that and I’ll take a couple of minutes to call Steph and fill her in.” Your best friend is pretty much going to lose her mind when you tell her everything that happened, but for once you can’t wait to hear her gloat.

Setting down the sweets, Dieter walks into the bathroom where he already had the at home drug kits. When he started the movie, he would be tested every day by the production crew, something Libby had added into the contract to keep him honest. He hated it, but knew it was needed. He does the test, marking the date on the package and sends Libby the picture as he waits for the results.

It’s early afternoon in California, and you know Steph is home from work today so a call won’t get her into trouble, as you stack the little boxes of chocolate dipped fruit in the suite’s fridge and wait anxiously for your best friend to pick up the phone.

“H-hello?” Stephanie laughs and there is a loud shriek in the background with a splash. “Nora! Use your feet, baby. Kick!” She calls out, pulling her mouth away from the phone before she turns back to the call. “Hello?”

“Hey!” The sounds are an immediate giveaway, they must be at Dieter’s house so Nora can swim. “Do you have a second to talk? How’s our little warrior doing?”

“Hey! Of course!” Steph immediately answers, the sounds of the lounger creaking and she’s adjusting and sitting up are covered by the low background kid-friendly music playing. “So you aren’t calling because I need to bail you out, right?”

“No, you don’t need to bail me out of Swiss prison,” you laugh, shaking your head as you play Tetris with yet more of the little boxes. You and Dieter truly went to town in that chocolatery. “Actually, I’m calling for kind of the opposite reason.”

“Uh…are you already on your way home?” She’s disappointed if that is the case, hoping that this trip would be good for you a Dieter.

“No…although, I guess that would count as the opposite of being stuck in jail indefinitely.” Chuckling down the line, you plop down on the settee in the suite’s front room once the fridge is stuffed full. “Actually? Uh…don’t fall over or anything, and I haven’t been replaced by an alien or whatever, but…” You take a deep breath, wondering how she’ll react. “Dieter and I are actually going to try dating for real. Like non-Libby-approved dates and everything.”

“Haha funny.” Steph rolls her eyes, and huffs. “I know you think the universe messed up, but I promise you that it didn’t. If you have him a chance it could be so good, hun.”

“Stephy…” You really, truly understand why she doesn’t believe you, and smile to yourself. “I’m telling you the truth. We’ve had a couple of really good talks since I got here last night and we’re going to give it a try.”

“Really?” Her squeal comes down over the line. “Tell me what the hell happened!”

“Alright, first of all, Libby is fuckin conniving, because she left me a key to his suite but didn’t say a fucking word. So points to her for engineering a romance trope. But really…I know it’s unbelievable coming from me, but waking up with him this morning was exactly like what I wish had happened last weekend. We didn’t even do anything except cuddle and talk.” And yet the dreamy quality to your voice is so monumentally obvious. “We walked to the nearest museum in the middle of the afternoon and he just…he kissed me while we were walking…and I don’t know. I just felt like—” Your chest clenches at the realization, and you barely keep from sighing. “It felt like home.”

“Wait a minute - he kissed you?” Steph’s mouth drops open in shock. Even though you both had cleared the air, she had not expected that. “Why? What made him do it?”

“I asked him the same thing,” you laugh. “Apparently that nose wrinkle and snort thing I do sometimes is cute to him.”

“So you do cute things that makes him want to kiss you.” She sighs, thinking it sounded just like a romance novel. “And apparently the rest of the day was just as magical?”

“We spent the rest of the day at the museum.” For you, that’s the absolute perfect place to be anytime and she knows it. “We were looking at this sketching that Rembrandt did of his wife and talking about how you can see how much he loved her in the line work and…I may have asked him if I could paint him one day…and he’s going to let me do one while we’re here.” Everything comes blurting out of your mouth as quickly as it can. “Then we were talking at dinner, and he asked if I wanted to date him for real…like give an actual relationship a try and…I dunno, Steph. It feels so good with him right now. I know I sound insane after like a decade of swearing I would never even speak to him, but…I think…I think I’m feeling things. Like real things.”

“He’s slipped past your walls.” Steph murmurs, biting her lip in excitement. “I knew that it was possible. Oh honey, I’m so happy for you.”

“It’s not like we’re ring shopping or anything.” Caution is key, in your opinion, even though you’re optimistically excited. “But he’s taking me to get my first tattoo of my own for my birthday.”

“For real?!” She squeals again in surprise, amazed that it is something you are planning on doing. She had honestly thought you never would, always complaining about Dieter’s tattoos. “He’s okay with that?”

“It was his idea.” It’s not something that was really in your bucket list before so you’re not surprised she’s surprised. “I’m doing to do the design myself. All those little watercolor flowers I’ve been doing? One for each of us. You, me, Nora, Shawn, and Dee.”

“Honey…” Steph murmurs softly. “You’re adding him into your tattoo?” She asks, knowing that you’ve fallen harder than you’ve admitted, maybe even to yourself. “You’ve fallen in love with him.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” A nervous chuckle is the best you can muster, not willing to grapple with that particular idea right now. “He’s my soulmate, and he’s going to have to wear it forever. He deserves to be a part of it.”

She doesn’t point out that you hadn’t had any option in the tattoos you sport. Doesn’t want to rock the boat, since you’ve come to understand why they are there and what they mean to him. “Okay, we won’t go that far.” She agrees easily. “So it sounds like Geneva is both good for the world and good for soulmates.” She jokes.

“Someday I’ll get out here with you.” Steph would love it. The bustling streets and warm attitudes being so different from Los Angeles. “You and Nora. How is she?”

Stephanie chuckles. “Tell Uncle Deedee he might have been replaced as Nora’s current favorite person.” She jokes. “She’s currently splashing in the pool with Rico. Water cowboys.”

“How’s that going?” You weren’t going to mention Rico overly, but since she had done it herself you feel free to ask. “Having Rico around?”

“This man was made for having kids.” She tells you. “He’s excellent with her. He’s already got her restrictive diet down and already promises that she will love the smoothie he makes that is packed with veggies she hates.”

“Okay, but how do you feel about him?” There’s a soft hum in your voice, and you smile even though she can’t see it. “Stephy, I can tell you like having him around. It’s okay.”

“I- I don’t understand it.” She admits quietly. “I’ve spent only a little bit of time with him.” It’s confusing and nerve wracking because of Shawn. Because of you and Nora.

“Sometimes a couple of minutes is all you need to get a good feeling about someone.” After all, wasn’t that how you and she had made friends as kids? A few minutes was all it had taken. And a few minutes was all she had known Shawn for when she decided that he was the one - even before she had known they were soulmates. “Dee said that Rico doesn’t have a soulmate anymore…I mean, not that I’m trying to push you or anything, but just— just so you know.” When Dieter appears in the doorway again you can’t help but grin, biting your lip a little just at the sight of him which is a new experience altogether. “Sweetie, it’s okay to open up again. Even if it’s just to make a new friend. You deserve to be happy.”

“Are you sure?” Her voice is small, your opinion and approval meant everything. Not only as her best friend, but as her soulmate’s sister. She never wanted you to think that she was refuting what she and Shawn had.

“You deserve to be happy,” you repeat, a little softer this time and surer, despite the water behind your eyes from talking about your brother. “Shawn wouldn’t have wanted you and Nora to mourn him for the rest of your lives, and you are the best judge of character I know. If spending time with Rico makes you happy, then go for it. It doesn’t mean you loved Shawn any less.”

Steph blows out a ragged breath. “We’ll see.” It’s all she can commit to right now. “Thank you.”

“That’s all, honey. Just let it be out there as an option.” Flipping backward, you stretch out on the settee and wish you could give her a giant hug, but know that you’ll have a million of them for her when you come home. “I just wanted to call and check in. I love you, and please tell Nora I love her, too.”

“I will.” Steph hums. “You be safe and have fun, okay? Make sure you talk to him, okay? Don’t jump to conclusions.”

“I promise.” With another round of goodbyes, you hang up the phone and shove it into the pocket of the Libby-approved pants you wore out today. “They’re at your place,” you tell Dieter, smiling up at him as he comes closer. “Nora and Rico are playing in the pool.”

“Good.” Dieter grins. “Hopefully that will make missing Aunt Gigi better for the next three weeks.”

“Hopefully.” Sitting up, you reach out to beckon him a little closer. “All set with your test?”

“Yep. Passed and sent the results to Lib.” He rolls his head around his shoulders and shrugs. “She built in drug testing to this movie so I don’t have a repeat of Cliff Beasts 6 downtime.”

“What do you want to do tonight?” You have no problem leaving it up to him since you picked to go to the museum.

“Honestly?” Dieter chuckles and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I just kind of want to lay around.” He admits. “I’m jet lagged, and that soaker tub is calling out to my back.”

Sitting up fully, you can’t help the way your head tilts at him ever so slightly, wishing he would come closer but not wanting to push. “Do you…um—do you want company?”

It’s a loaded question if there ever was one. On the one hand, he would fucking love it, on the other, he’s trying not to push the idea of jumping you too quickly. “We could order a bottle of wine.” He proposes. “It is big enough for two.”

“A bottle of wine, some chocolates, and a soak?” Honestly it sounds like heaven, but he seems hesitant. “I’ll wear my bathing suit if you’re not comfortable having me naked with you yet. Again.” You drop your face into one hand and huff at yourself. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for is what I’m trying to say.”

Dieter stares at you for a second before he starts to laugh. “Here I am worried about popping wood and offending you and you think I’m not ready.” He chokes out shaking his head.

“No one can say we’re not being considerate of each other’s feelings.” A small chuckle escapes you and you hoist yourself up onto your feet from where you had been sitting. “We’re dating for real, Dee. Popping wood is a compliment.”

He gives a haphazard shrug. “I never said I was good at dating.” He huffs, even though there is a small, flush to his cheeks and his lips are turned up just a fraction. “Why don’t you go order the wine and whatever else we might need for the bath. The hotel is all inclusive. They can bring up anything you want.”

“Sure.” Your limited knowledge of wines will have to make do for now, but you vaguely remember reading once that pinot noir is good with chocolate and fruit, so that seems like the way to go. Dieter paces back into the interior of the suite to start the bath while you call the concierge’s desk, and you squeeze your eyes shut self-consciously while also very awkwardly asking if the front desk would be able to send up a pack of condoms along with the wine. To the concierge’s credit he simply answers in the affirmative and asks if there will be anything, and politely ends the call when you say no. Better safe and embarrassed than staying silent and ending up in trouble, you tell yourself as you hang up the hotel phone.

The bathroom is stocked with all the bath soaps and powders that he could possibly want, so Dieter goes in and starts the bath. The tub is huge, made for two and he wonders if this will be more than just a soak, but he doesn’t want to try his luck.

It’s only a few minutes later that a knock on the suite door sounds, and a tray bearing the wine bottle, two glasses, and a pack of condoms is delivered. The pack gets shoved into your other pocket and you pull a few chocolates from the fridge to add to the tray before bringing it into the bathroom.

Dieter glances up when you walk in. “That was quick.” He murmurs. “Although the last time I ordered something from the kitchen, my soulmate was delivered.” He flashes you a grin and gestures to the bath. “Make sure the water’s not too hot.”

“I take showers the temperature of lava,” you tell him, lips upturned in a smile as you set the tray on the broad side of the tub and trail your fingers through the warm water. It might be hot too some, but for you this is nice and comfortable. “Perfect. And I brought some of the chocolates in if we want to indulge.”

“You’re my soulmate.” He groans playfully, rolling his eyes over to the chocolates. “Booze and chocolate in a bath with a naked woman.” He sighs. “I’ve died and this is heaven.”

“Not naked yet.” The wink you toss him is reminiscent of his own signature tease, and you carefully set the expensive-looking jewelry that had been part of Libby’s pre-packed vacation suitcase on the bathroom counter. “You wanna pour two glasses while I work on that last bit of heaven for you?” It’s not like you’re wearing anything intricate, but it’s still all brand-new stuff from his manager so you don’t just want to toss it on the floor.

Dieter smirks and moves over to the tray to grab the bottle of wine. “I get my own strip show?” He’s jokes as he grabs the corkscrew to open it. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“There’s nothing particularly sexy about anything I’m wearing today.” But that reminds you - buying a little something lacy or silky before your birthday might be a fun surprise. Slipping the little packet out of the pocket of your pants and into the folds of the crisply folded bathrobe on the counter, you have to remind yourself that you’ve already been naked with him, so there’s no reason to be self conscious about taking your bra and panties off in front of him. They are added to the stack of folded clothes on the counter and you pick up the bathrobe with its hidden secret, not wanting to make him feel like you expect sex just because you’re sharing an intimate moment.

“I was teasing.” He actually hasn’t been watching you, not wanting you to feel as if he is leering. He still remembers how you looked that one night you had. Setting the wine glasses on the edge of the tub, he turns back around. “Get in and I’ll get undressed now.” He murmurs, trying to keep his eyes from drifting over your skin.

“I can’t believe we’re both being so polite about this.” The water is beautifully hot and the thick layer of bubbles is scented with something soothing that you don’t recognize. “Last time you nearly had my dress pulled up to my waist in the back of the car.”

“Last time we were drunk and you were eager.” He reminds you with a grin after he pulls his shirt over his head. “Now you’re sober and we are less…uninhibited.”

“Being sober doesn’t make me less eager.” Reaching over the side of the tub, you snag this little packet of condoms out of its hiding place in the bathrobe and hold them up. “I was trying to be discreet so you wouldn’t feel like I expected anything, but just…just know that everything that happened that night was honest. And that—” Steph’s words ring in your ears but they absolutely will not be uttered out loud. “That it wasn’t the alcohol that made me want to be with you. It just helped me say it loud and clear.”

It’s probably a little sad how quickly his entire being seems to light up at your confession, making him nearly giddy. He quickly agrees, his head bobbing up and down sharply. “I don’t expect anything either,” he promises, “but I wasn’t with you just because it was convenient.” He won’t say when his feelings shifts or exactly what they are now, it’s way too early for something like that.

“Then maybe let’s both relax a little and just enjoy?” The day at the museum - even this morning in bed - had been so natural. You dearly want that ease back if you can get it. “Give ourselves permission to want this?”

"That sounds good." He flashes you a half grin. "Of course we are extra about this too." He strips out of the pants he had worn to the museum and his boxers in one go, pushing them down his legs and kicking them off before he walks over to the tub. He's not shy with his body. He's not everyone's cup of tea, he knows that, but he also knows that you like him.

“So.” Once he’s settled beside you and you’ve both picked up your wine glasses, you lean back against the edge of the tub with a contented sigh. “What’s your movie about?”

Dieter takes a sip of his wine and tilts his head, huffing slightly. “It’s about a painter who has decided to abandon his soulmate to find himself.” The irony of the script isn’t lost on him, considering that he’s in a bathtub with his own soulmate. “Except he finds that he’s not himself without them.”

“Did they get you someone good for a costar?” You don’t really know how any of the casting process works, but surely whoever was hired is top tier. And hopefully not someone who will be petty about his actual soulmate being around. From the sound of the one-sentence plot, it must have at least a little romance.

“Yeah.” He gives a small shrug and names the actress who has been in the last three big hits over the past few years. “She draws in people, let’s hope she can actually act.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.” Having been in the world of kids’ movies for the last few years, you barely recognize the name. She’s famous, sure, and you’ve seen her face in magazines in the supermarket, but it’s not like you’ve seen any of her films. “But it sounds like you’ll get to paint on set, so that will be nice.”

“Barely.” He frowns at that. “Although I don’t care. They want my character to do self-portraits. Which I hate.”

“Just think of Rembrandt and Saskia,” you encourage, taking a sip of your wine. “Maybe there’s something there that you can focus on instead of just thinking about how much you don’t like looking at your own face.” It sounds sentimental and you know it, but somehow you really don’t mind. Being sentimental with your soulmate feels soothing in an unexpected way. “Small details instead of the overall picture. Like the exact shape of your mouth or shade of your eyes?”

He hums in contemplation and takes another sip of his wine. “I guess.” He concedes finally, leaning back against the edge of the tub. “At least I don’t have to worry about doing the actual painting.” He jokes.

“Who’s doing it?” Of course the art is the thing that draws you in, that shouldn’t be a surprise.

“Actually, I don’t know.” Dieter cracks an eye open and rolls his head to the side. “Probably one of the set decorators. Why? You want to do it?”

“I mean…I was just curious, but…” It’s not incredulous, or judgmental, or anything like that. It seems like an actual offer - and the idea of seeing your own art in a movie is both absolutely crazy and also a total dream. “I mean I could. You were going to let me paint you anyway…but they probably already have someone to do that, right? I—I’m sure they already have someone way better than me.” After all, movie sets have professionals. They’re probably far better than what you could do. “*Those who can’t do, teach*, or so says everyone in the entire world.”

“I don’t believe that shit.” Dieter scoffs and shakes his head. “All my art teachers were amazing. They loved exposing others to the wonder of art. That’s why they taught. To bring joy to the world.”

“I just meant I’m sure your film crew has someone more than capable of painting you.” The embarrassment welling in your chest is a little too real, though, and you put your wine down so he can’t see your hands shake with it. “They’re professionals. I’m an amateur. And that’s okay.”

“You aren’t an amateur.” Dieter insists, shaking his head again. “You have to be better than ‘professionals’. You have to be proficient in multiple mediums rather than just your favorites. That takes skill.”

“I’ve never sold a piece of my work. By definition that makes me an amateur.” It’s a fact. You’re comfortable with facts. They’re solid and honest and very real. “And like I said, that’s okay. Most artists are amateurs who have never sold their work.”

“Well, I can find out who is doing the pictures.” He turns and looks at you. “A lot of times it’s just the set decorators. They don’t sell their art either.”

“If you want me to be the one who does it, that’s different,” you tell him quietly, sensing his stubbornness might extend past your own right now. “I’m sure it would be good publicity.”

“That’s only if you want to. For yourself. Not the publicity.” Dieter reaches out and touches your arm. “Would you want your portraits, or pieces of them in a movie?”

“Everybody wants to be in the movies somehow.” At least, everyone you’ve ever met - but you do live in Southern California, so the sampling data is slightly skewed. “I mean— it would be something we did together. The first thing we ever did together. And that would be really special…but I don’t know if they would be good enough.”

“So why don’t you paint something tomorrow?” He offers. “If you want to do it, give them a reference and I’ll make sure you get chosen.” He’s not above making sure that he gets his way.

“I brought my sketchbook…it has some portraits of Nora and Steph in it, and my brother…” If he’s going to ask to have your art put in a major Hollywood movie, then you’re damn well going to provide as many samples as you can. “Is it a period piece or anything? Because that affects the art style.” He knows that, obviously, but as you start to absorb the idea that this could actually be a reality, it is both exciting and terrifying in a very important way.

“Modernish, around the early 2000s.” He answers. “Want to say it’s set in like 2002?”

“Ah.” Nodding your head with a slight shake, you just chuckle. “Vintage, as my students would call it.”

Dieter snorts and throws his head back. “Fuck I’m old.” He complains, unable to believe 2002 is ‘vintage’.”

“Technically twenty years old is vintage.” You lean into him slightly, laughing a little with his dismay because you reacted the same way the first time. “The first day I came into school to see my kids wearing knock off 90s fashion, I felt like I needed a walker.”

“We’ve already come back around to 90s fashion?” The panic in his voice is real. “No, no, I’m not that old.”

“Yep.” The way you nod is almost resigned, but the laughter is still there. “Believe me, I dread the return of low rise jeans.”

“This is bullshit.” Dieter huffs, taking another sip of his wine and rolling his eyes.

“Can I tell you how magical it is to be able to swear whenever I fucking want?” You’re steady enough to pick your wine glass back up and take a sip. “Nora’s so deep in her mimic phase that it’s crazy.”

“She’s such a good kid.” He tells you. “Bright and funny.” He pauses. “When I— you know, swiped those bills from your house the first time, I couldn’t imagine seeing all those tests she had to have. She doesn’t let it get to her, does she?”

“She has her bad days like anyone else. Sometimes a doctor will suggest a new panel of tests and it’s just too much for her to take that day. But because she was diagnosed so young, it’s really just part of her life. She hates her food restrictions more than anything else. I mean imagine being four years old and not being allowed to eat regular ice cream.” You shrug at him, knowing how misty eyed you are. “She’s my little warrior. I call her that for a reason.”

“Can she have the soy ice cream?” He asks, knowing there are more options now than when he was younger.

“There’s soy, almond, coconut, cashew, oat milk, even avocado ice cream now. Unfortunately, it’s all more expensive than the dairy stuff, so it’s been a very rare treat.” There’s a small smile that goes along with that, knowing that he’s made it so much easier for those little treats to become a part of your niece’s life. “We got cashew milk cookies and cream ice cream for the first time a few weeks ago and you would have thought she had been crowned queen of the world she was so happy.”

Dieter chuckles. “She’s going to end up creating a chain of dairy free ice cream shops like Dairy Queen.” He predicts.

“Steph has been talking about wanting to market snacks for kids with dietary restrictions for a year now. The two of them would have an empire.” And you would be there beside them every step of the way to support and cheer them on.

“She should get Rico to help her. Man is a genius in the kitchen. Should have gone to culinary school.” He tells you, splashing slightly as he adjusts in the hot water to reach for a strawberry.

“She said he’s already got Nora’s diet down after two days.” You chuckle slightly, shaking your head at a sudden thought. “He told me once that his family owns a restaurant. Now all I can imagine is how crazy a restaurant would be if everything on the menu was compatible with a Crohn’s diet. I mean that’s what I cook at home, it could totally be done.”

“It’s a good idea.” He nods his head. “It would give people who normally couldn’t enjoy going out a chance to do so.”

Still laughing softly, you reach for a strawberry of your own from the tray nearby. “I’ll have to call Steph tomorrow and let her know we figured out their future.”

He snorts and gives a small giggle before he takes a bite of his strawberry. He moans when he bites into it, rolling his eyes at the flavors bursting on his tongue. “You can get skinned alive for that.” He tells you after he swallows it.

“Nah. I have a feeling that by the time I get home, something will have happened between them.” Your reaction to the perfectly balanced, sweet, tart, juicy strawberry is nearly identical to Dieter’s and your nose wrinkles on an almost gleeful giggle. “Holy shit these are amazing.”

“Yeah, we will need to buy more.” Dieter predicts. “And I’ll have to start using the gym in the hotel.” His nose wrinkles for a far more unpleasant reason, but the strawberries are worth it.

“I’ll go with you.” Even though you have a feeling you dislike working out the same way he does, things are always easier with moral support. “We can grumble together.”

He snickers and nods. “I’ll hold you to that.” He warns. “If I have to sweat, so do you.”

“I mean, we can work out in other ways, too.” He loves to throw you winks now and then so you toss him one this time, humming as you take the last bite of your strawberry.

“Tease.” He huffs under his breath, narrowing his eyes at you. “Keep it up and you’ll be sorry.” He absolutely doesn’t mean it, but he will play with you.

“I literally had the concierge send up condoms after suggesting we take a bath together,” you remind him, amused at his dramatic huffing and puffing that two weeks ago would have had you rolling your eyes in frustration. “I could not be more explicitly down to clown.”

He stares at you for a split second before he busts out laughing. “Oh god.” He gasps. “Down to clown?” He manages to set his glass on the edge and reaches for you. “Come here, idiot.”

You can’t help but laugh, having chosen the absolute stupidest phrase you could think of just to see that one perfect moment of disbelief on his face before he burst out laughing. In that moment it is painfully obvious to you that you would keep coming up with the dumbest phrases known to man every single day for the rest of your life just to hear him laugh like that. “There’s a reason I don’t teach English,” you joke, shifting in the water to set your own glass aside so you can move into his arms.

“Obviously.” The water makes it easier, turning you and getting your thigh over his so you are straddling his lap. He’s not hard yet, but he quickly will be, with you pressing up against him. His arms come around you and he grins goofily up at you. “Hey.”

“Hey.” The feeling of being held tight in his arms like this - straddling his lap in the hot, scented water with your heart pounding a mile a minute - is something you never thought you would get to have in your entire life, and if the smile on your face is even close to being as beaming as it feels when you duck your head to kiss him, then you must be lighting up the room.

There’s nothing between you, nothing to blame this on. Just the need to kiss you as he leans in, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your head and he presses his lips to yours. Coming home. The feeling is right there, swimming around inside you like the biggest fish in a small pond - inescapable and ready to keep your attention forever if you let it. The half glass of wine you’ve each had is right there on your lips mingling with chocolate and strawberry sweetness, and you’re not even sure which one of you sighs into the kiss first, but it opens up without hesitation.

It’s probably the first time that Dieter has kissed someone without being high or drunk since he could remember. He tightens his hold on you and keeps it light, although he can’t help but slide his tongue along your lips. Both of your hands cup his jaw, tilting it up toward you slightly to deepen the kiss further and invite the tangle of his tongue sweeping into your mouth and returning the gesture eagerly, moaning softly at the taste of him.

The first time was frantic, nearly unhinged in the drunken enthusiasm of the moment. He wants this to be different. Both of you are on the same page, equally wanting this. One hand slides down and squeezes your ass but he doesn’t pick up the pace of his kiss. Keeping his tongue leisurely sweeping through your mouth as he groans.

Your hips rock with the motion, even as slowly as you’re both moving, enjoying the indulgence of it makes you roll your hips back into his hand, and one of yours moves around to cradle the back of his head so you can thread your fingers gently into his hair. Even if this is all that happens tonight it would be a gorgeous feeling, but you know yourself - and you know what he said about himself - and you can all but guarantee it won’t stop here.

It’s ridiculous how quickly he responds. Like his body was programmed to yours, which was true in a sense. His cock starts to harden under you, growing and filling out with every roll of your hips, making him groan into your mouth even more. “Fuck.”

The pleased little smirk on your face is one that has you grinning against his lips before trailing little bites down the line of his jaw. “Whoops,” you rock your hips forward again, luxuriating in the knowledge that you are doing this to him. “How did that happen?”

“No clue.” He drolls sarcastically, groaning when you nip his ear, tugging on the earring. “Probably because I know exactly how good that pussy feels around my cock.” He breathes out, whining slightly when your nail scrapes over his nipple.

“Been thinking about that a lot, huh?” The knowledge that he had jerked off thinking about you might be the most powerful feeling you’ve ever had in the world. Carefully not to mark his skin, you kiss, lick, and bite all the way down his neck just to feel the rumble in his chest.

“Shut up.” He grumbles, cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment. He lets go of your neck and cups your breast. “Hard not to think about it.” He challenges. “Couldn’t tell if it was a one off or if it was just that good.”

“Guess we’re gonna find out.” Despite the teasing, though, something inside you is absolutely certain that good is an understatement.

“Yes we are.” He’s accepted that you want to sleep with him, that you are solid in his arms. “Do you want me to prop you up on the edge of the tub and lick your pussy?”

“God yes.” You spent so many days feeling upset after sleeping with him the first time that you didn’t get to indulge in those memories the way you would have otherwise and you’re dying to build newer, happier memories to replace the ones with negative associations. And ones that you’ll actually remember the next day without trouble.

It’s his turn to nuzzle your jaw, to kiss along it and bite down randomly. Making you whine and roll your hips against his length more. “Good.” He practically moans the word into your ear. “I’ve been dying for another taste.”

“Fuck.” It’s almost a pitiful little whimper, but he’s moving again before you can really even care. Lifting you up in the water and getting you situated on the wide edge on the sunken tub so you can lean against the wall. Like this you can lean back and enjoy, spreading your legs as wide as his broad shoulders demand.

“Hmmm.” Dieter glances down at the wet folds of your cunt and then back up at you with a smirk. “Someone wanted the fresh look?” He murmurs teasingly.

“I may have taken an extra-long shower after Libby called just in case.” You mumble, looking up at the ceiling because it’s vaguely embarrassing admitting that your first thought of getting to spend more time with him knowing he didn’t hate you was hoping for a moment like this.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” He teases, right before he leans in and flattens his tongue through your wet folds.

“Fuck.” Because you were looking up and not down at him, he manages to take you completely by surprise with that first touch of his mouth to your pussy. It’s divine in a way that memories just never can be, snapping your attention back down to him and making you gasp at how amazing it feels.

His chuckle rumbles into your cunt, smirk hidden by your folds. Happy that he caught you off guard, his eyes on yours while he takes another long, slow pass at your clit with his tongue.

“Dreamt about this last night.” Your fingers deftly wind their way into his hair, wanting to take advantage of its length before his haircut.

He pulls away for a second, a twinkle in his eyes and a grin pulling his lips wide. “Yeah? You dreamed about this?” He asks before he dives back in, eager to make it dream worthy.

"Last - oh fuck - l-last night." It isn't frantic like last time but immensely determined, as he sets out to turn you into a human Tootsie Roll pop. One lick at a time, with all the focus of a man on a mission, he will find the sweetness at your center and take every drop for himself.

“Sogood.” He groans into you, squeezing your hips and wanting to see how you fall apart for him sober.

“So much b-better in real - oh god! - life.” He is the epitome of a man starved as he licks deeper into your core, groaning and growling into you and making the vibrations of those sounds roll through you on waves of pleasure. “Fuck Dee — so good, baby.”

Dieter loves praise. He fucking loves it. Such a slut for being told that he’s worth something, that he’s doing something right. It feeds into the hollow need inside himself to be better, to be more. He preens into your folds and it makes him even more eager. Gasping into you and pressing deeper, his nose buried against the soft skin of your mound as he licks into you.

“Do you f-fuck like that, baby?” There’s a spark of recognition that champagne had made cloudy a week ago, and your lips curve up in a smirk as you look down at the eager man between your legs. “Do you like being told what a good boy you are?”

Dieter growls burrowing deeper into your cunt like he’s trying to reach your cervix with his tongue. Maybe he is, all he knows he is wants to hear more.

“Jesus.” Nearly falling back against the wall, your fingernails scrape his skull and tug his hair sharply in approval. “You do.” The revelation is delightful, making your moan mix with a little chuckle. “Gonna fucking devour me, aren’t you, baby? So fucking good at it too.” A shiver runs down his spine and he moans into you, cock leaking and twitching under the water as he desperately tries to make you cum.

The sedate and indulgent pace is gone now, as you swear Dieter is trying to swallow of whole pussy first - but he might just succeed from the way heat rolls down your spine and your legs start to quake and squeeze his ears. Keeping up the praise as best you can until it becomes rambling, it’s his name on your lips as you grind your hips down on to his eager tongue, tensing and shivering as you swear your cunt clamps down so tightly he might lose that heavenly tongue.

He swears that he’s going to suffocate between your thighs, and he will die a happy man. Groaning and eagerly trying to slurp down all the molten honey that is pouring out of you. Gripping your hips so hard he’ll leave bruises; Dieter watches your face as you fall apart.

“Holy shit…” You can feel every muscle in your body loosen all at once as you practically droop following the unbelievably intense orgasm. Combing your fingers softly through his hair as a soft apology for pulling too hard, you can’t help the small, rather filthy giggle that escapes your lips when you lean down to kiss him. “Fuck you’re good at that, baby. So fucking good.”

“Yeah?” He gives you a lazy smile, pussy drunk and soft even though he is throbbing under the water. Aching to be inside you again. “You like my mouth now, don’t you?” He teases.

“You’re still a smart ass.” But now you’re shaking your head about it affectionately before throwing him a wink. “But apparently you’re also a very good boy.”

“Fuck.” He whimpers, biting his lip and trying to suppress the moan that is rippling in his throat. He pouts, poking out his lip at you for discovering that phrase. “You’re gonna kill me woman.” He grumbles.

“Am I?” Slipping back into the water with him, you don’t hesitate for a second to taste yourself from his lips, humming when you can feel his cock twitch against your leg. “Do you want to fuck me here, or in the bed? Totally up to you.”

“I don’t think I can wait.” Dieter confesses, wrapping his arms around you and plunging his tongue into your mouth for a heated kiss.

The pure whimper that warms him comes from the back of your throat, and you blindly grapple in back of you for wherever you dropped the condoms just praying you don’t knock anything breakable over in the process.

“God hurry.” Whining, he burrows his face in your neck and pulls you down to grind against his cock, sliding between your folds while you fumble around.

If you moved any faster you’d end up a superhero, finding the pack and tearing open one of the little foil packages for him to roll the rubber down his length as fast as careful will allow.

The way you manage to get a condom on him as he thrusts his length up above the waterline is magical and he’s quickly pulling you closer. “God baby.” He pants, desperate to feel you around him again. “Fuck me.”

“Stolen my line.” It’s mumbled into a fierce kiss, and you practically shove him backward to sit on the built-in seat deep inside the luxurious tub that he thankfully did not over fill. There is about to be a lot of water moving around, as you straddle his lap once again to line the head of his cock up at your entrance.

Dieter’s breath catches as you start to sink down on him. He had thought the first time was good, but this? Watching your clear eyes mist over with passion as you take him inch by inch? This is what it’s supposed to be. Another small, needy little sound escapes him, and he lunges forward to press his lips to yours.

He’s so gorgeously vocal, even when those sounds are being poured into your mouth with every rise and fall of your body. One arm is wrapped around his shoulders to keep him close, and the hungry kisses seem to just blend one into the next even as your free hand scrapes over his chest and his teeth find new places on the column of your neck to nip and bite any time one of you needs air.

“God-fucking-damn.” He huffs, his dick twitching deep inside you when you contract around him like a vice. “You— fuck— you’re like a damn glove around me.”

People always say that your soulmate feels like the best fit for you in every sense of the word, and you can’t do anything but moan your agreement as you grind down in his lap. “‘S like you’re fucking my throat right from my cunt. Fucking amazing.”

He can’t even be cocky about that comment, not right now. It’s all he can do not to cum, clinging to you and kissing your neck while he throbs from the sexy little figure eights you are miming with your hips.

Pleasure builds quickly despite the fact that you’ve already cum once, and there’s so much that is unbelievable about the situation if you think about it too hard - after all you’re riding Dieter fucking Bravo in the bath of a luxury hotel in Switzerland of all places - that you just push all your focus down on him and embrace the fact that he’s touching places inside you that absolutely no one has ever been able to before. You’re whimpering just name in between practically every movement, punctuated with those praises you now know he loves.

Now that he’s gotten inside you again, he can concentrate again. Even though his thoughts are overwhelmingly about how good you feel, he also wants to explore. Brushing kisses over your chest as he works his way down and pushes up one breast so he can suck a nipple into his mouth.

The suddenness of it, the way you were so focused on keeping yourself balanced and then the hot wetness of his mouth on your sensitive nipple took you by surprise, has you practically wailing in pleasure. Your back arches, encouraging him to explore as much of you as he wants with his mouth while you continue to rise and fall on him. Of course sex has been good before, but it’s never been this, and right now that means giving back as good as you’re getting.

He sucks like you will magically produce milk. Biting, soothing with his tongue and drawling circles around the tight skin before he pulls on it again. He loves tits, ass, dick, all of it - but there is something about you that drives him insane. Moaning your name against your breast when your fingers sink into his hair again to tug on it.

Teetering on the edge of bliss is a precarious place to be no matter who you are, and the way he is wringing every ounce of pleasure from you is somewhere between heaven and oblivion. The angle has him battering into your g-spot with every thrust and the strangled warning that you’re about to cum tears from your throat only a few seconds before your cunt is clamping down on him, squeezing his length with every spasm.

Dieter can't even breath, can't think except for the exquisite feeling of your body coming apart around his. Gasping out your name while he tries to help you ride it out, his nearly following immediately after you. Just two short thrusts before he lips rip away from your breast and crushes against yours, cock pulsing and filling the condom as he tries to grind just as deep as he can possibly get.

The passionate, grasping, nearly desperate feeling begins to settle oh-so-slowly. Leaving the two of you drowning in languid kisses as you cling to each other in the choppy water. You have no desire to pull away yet, enjoying the last few aftershocks from the nearly shared orgasms far too much to want to move.

He sighs a little chuckle against your lips, eyes closed as he savors the rush of endorphins that always follows an orgasm. As close to any natural high as he could possibly get. Strumming through his system and making him feel as if the entire tub was floating in the clouds. "Hmmmm." He smiles and kisses you again. "Think you'll remember this time?" He teases.

“Shut up.” You giggle though, teasing rather than upset, and you nip at his bottom lip with a grin. “Not only will I remember, but I’ll also be there when you wake up tomorrow.”

“Thank God.” He huffs, rolling his eyes at you. “Starting to get a complex.”

“I’ll be right there, just like I was this morning. I promise.” Pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose, you don’t miss the way it wrinkles slightly under the show of affection and you make a mental note for the sketch you’re going to do tomorrow - one thing he doesn’t like about his appearance that you do.

"Good." He doesn't like sounding needy, but he never wants to feel like that again, doesn't like the way that it seems to tear his heart in two.

“Careful now.” Still teasing, you duck your head to kiss his cheek and end up with a lopsided grin on your face. “Or I might start thinking you actually like me.” It’s such a precarious tease, especially because you so, so desperately want some kind of affirmative from him but aren’t willing to do more than just tease to see if you can get it. A real, emotional conversation is just far more than you can handle right now.

He huffs and pinches your ass playfully. "God forbid that happens." He drolls sarcastically with a wink. He wants to hear that you care about him, that you hold an ounce of affection for him just because he's him. Not because he's your soulmate.

“Right?” One more quick kiss and you’re gently lifting yourself off of his lap, trying to avoid the stinging disappointment in getting sarcasm as an answer instead of affection. “Come on, let’s dry off and crawl into bed.”

He holds the base of the condom while you pull yourself off of him. "God, I think we will have to set an alarm so we don't sleep the morning away." He murmurs softly. "Maybe watch the sunrise together?" He offers as the two of you stand and he removes the condom.

“Sounds pretty.” It’s a romantic thought, which is a slight surprise after not really getting an answer out of him just now, but you smile. “I’ll check what time sunrise is supposed to be and set the alarm? Then maybe we can have breakfast in bed before we get started with the day?”

He smiles wistfully and gives you a small nod. "That sounds like the perfect beginning to the day." He agrees, loving the idea of a leisurely morning in bed with you.

It takes all of five minutes for the two of you to drain the tub, dry off, and tumble into bed still naked, not seeing the need for pajamas. With the curtains pulled open, the lights from the city seep into your room to make sure that you won’t miss a second of sunrise. “5:43 sunrise tomorrow,” you report, setting your phone’s alarm for a few minutes earlier so you won’t miss the start.

"Ugh, that's early." Dieter grumbles as he tugs you into his arms. "But it'll be worth it." He presses his lips to your forehead. "Something you can paint." His arms slide around you and he sighs and you settle against him.

“It’ll be worth it.” You’re sure of that, and nuzzle into his side until you find the exact position you’re most comfortable in - which happens to be one where his shoulder is your pillow.

"Good night, beautiful." He murmurs softly, basking in the feeling of warmth and comfort. Having you in his arms felt right in so many different kinds of ways and he just wanted to drift off to sleep in this feeling.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat​ @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri    

YSV: @tortor-mcgee @hnt-escape​ @sammus-white​ @spanishmossmagnolia  @frasmotic @quietpainter    

My Masterlist!

[all-things-fandomstuck-writes]

Not All Dreams Have a Happy Ending. (The Corinthian x GN! Reader)

Hey everyone! Welcome to my first published fanfic on Tumblr! I’m not quite sure I like the beginning very much, but I will say that I think it gets better further into it.

And yes, I did use the dialogue from episode 10. I felt as if paraphrasing it would make it less impactful.

TW: Mentions of death, mentions of murder, slight body horror,

I do use (y/n). I know some people don’t like that, but I think it was the best I could do with what I was going for. Now, without further ado, on with the fic!

He never intended for it to end like this. One Moment, he was on the cusp of greatness. The next, he was nothing more than a pile of sand, and a small skull. However, in the moments before the darkness took him, the Corinthian’s mind wasn’t focused on his defeat. No. Instead, his thoughts drifted to his partner. His (y/n). Everything that had happened to them since the fateful day they first met, and now, all the things that would never come to pass.

It had been a particularly warm August evening. The summer month was more than half done, and yet the heat persisted. Many residences were hosting gatherings to celebrate one last time before the cooler weather started up again. And it was at one such gathering, that (y/n) met the Corinthian.

Dozens of people milled about the grounds of a small manor, while many more threw themselves about to the various songs that poured from the speakers. The Corinthian, not that anyone there knew that was his name, stood upon the second story balcony, and looked out into the back garden. The festivities had begun to bore him long ago. Drink no longer interested him, nor did any of the guests that had tried so desperately to get his attention.

He knew he possessed a certain magnetism, a charm that drew people to him. And, while this ability usually made his work all the easier, tonight, the Corinthian was in no mood for games. Well, not in the beginning, at least. He was debating on leaving the crowd of wanton souls for something more his tastes when he spotted a lone figure tucked away into the back corner of the garden.

“Now”, he thought, “this evening might just get interesting after all”. He made his way down to the garden, believing he had found the perfect playmate for his next game. He wove through the crowd of party goers, careful to avoid stepping on anyone’s toes as he waved off unwanted advances. The Corinthian was focused on one thing and one thing only.

His prey.

For a while watched them from a distance, analyzing his approach. He wanted to appear calm, and charming, not like some drunkard looking for a good time. Not that he was capable of getting drunk, but it was usually a safe bet not to play that way. No, the Corinthian wanted to put their mind completely at ease, so that he might gain their trust. However, that tactic seemed to fail as they happened to glance upwards in his direction, seemingly startled by his closeness.

“I thought no one would notice me all the way out here”, they said. The Corinthian grinned, assuming a gentlemanly manner, as not to scare them. “Oh,” he began. “I had no intentions of startling you. I was just looking for a place to get away from the party for a bit.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, for just enough of the truth remained to make it convincing. He was glad to see that his new conversation partner had donned a small smile, while beautiful (e/c) irises met his shaded ones. He was thinking of what to say next when he noticed the book that they held in their lap.

“Whatcha reading there?”, he asked, pointing towards the volume.

“Oh”, they started, not quite certain if it was worth discussing at all. However, they were glad to have someone who didn’t seem to be wanting to push booze or themselves onto them. “It’s just some story about dreams coming true.” At this they frowned, the subject matter clearly no to their liking. “It was all I could manage to sneak out without getting caught”.

The Corinthian let out a small chuckle. “I take it you’re not fond of parties then?”, he questioned.

“Not at all”, the mortal replied. They looked around a bit, as if to assure that they were alone, before letting out a sheepish grin. “Can I let you in on a little secret?”

“Of course”, the Corinthian said as he nodded. He was pleasantly surprised by the fact that they seemed to trust him, but not as surprised as he was by what they said next.

“I was never one for what other’s would call ‘sweet dreams’. I’ve always been more fascinated by nightmares.”

The Corinthian’s smile faltered, but only for a moment before becoming wider at the thought.

“Is that so? Well, in that case, I suppose I could a thing or two about nightmares.”

That evening was the start of something truly wonderful. The pair discussed their strange fascination with the horrors from the dreaming world well into the night, and long, long after the party had come to an end. The Corinthian found himself escorting them back to their residence, with promises to visit the following evening. Before he left, he managed to get their name, (y/n), and their phone number.

Weeks past, and most of their nights were spent in each other’s company. It always intrigued (y/n) that their companion never seemed to take off his shades, even while he was inside their home. They eventually passed it off as an issue with light sensitivity. What really began to get their curiosity, and sometimes their annoyance, going, was that he would never just give them his name. In time, he became known to them as their “Nightmare Man”. It was like a game for them. But, all games must eventually come to an end.

It’d been six months since they began seeing one another before the Corinthian decided to tell his partner the truth. They had scheduled a night in, and if there was ever going to be a time for honesty, it felt like it should be then. That night, while they laid as a mess of tangled limbs underneath a large blanket, he told them everything. He told them about Morpheus, about the Dreaming, about everything that he had ever seen and done.

“You weren’t to far off in calling me your Nightmare Man”, he started.

(Y/N) could only stare at him.

“You’re”, they began, “You’re joking right?”

“ ‘Fraid not, sweetheart”, he said, as the corner of his mouth lifted into a sly grin. “I am one bona-fide, genuine Nightmare”. One of his hands moved towards his glasses, but stopped short just before he could remove them.

“Prove it”, (y/n) breathed, scarcely trusting their own ears.

That was all it took. In one swift motion, time seemed to stand still. Instead of peering into what should have been a pair of eyes, (y/n) found themselves staring at two sets of teeth set into their partner’s eyelids.

Never before had they been more haunted, nor had they ever been more intrigued. A shaky hand reached up to cup his face, and once it was there, (y/n)’s thumb began to gently stroke his cheek. His hand came up to meet theirs, slowly wrapping it in a gentle hold. (Y/N) simply stared in awe, drinking in the sight of him.

“You like what you see, babe?”, the Corinthian asked, drawing them out of their trance.

“I don’t know whether to be awed or alarmed”, they grinned. “Though, I’m more curious than ever to know your name. Your real name, not whatever alias you can think to come up with”

“You just told me that you’re a nightmare from a place called the Dreaming, which is ruled by a being called Morpheus. Try me.”

There was a pause, and the very air seemed to hang with palpable tension, the silence nearly deafening. It seemed to drag on for eons. When the reply came, (y/n) felt a chill run down their spine.

“The Corinthian”, he breathed, barely above a whisper. The shock settled into their bones, and hardened into a knot in their stomach.

“The Corinthian?”, they paused, as if they couldn’t stand to ask their next question out of fear of the answer. “You mean, like, the serial killer who takes people’s eyes?”

The Corinthian let out a laugh.

“The very same, doll. Why? Scared that I’ll do the same to you?”

Now it was (y/n)’s turn to laugh.

“Nah, if you really wanted me dead, you would have killed me already, and my eyes wouldn’t be in my head.” Their grin widened as they continued, “besides, living with your victim for several months doesn’t seem to fit your MO.” Their expression turned quizzical. “Though, I do have to ask, What made you choose me? You could have had anyone you wanted. What made me so special?”

The Corinthian let out a sigh, and took the hand that wasn’t holding his significant other’s, and began to trace their fingers along their arm.

“Remember that night in the garden? At that party that we both just happened to be at?”

(Y/N) nodded in response, and snuggled into their lover’s chest.

“You were the first person to truly understand. You see nightmares as something to be relished, savored even.” He stopped just long enough to plant a kiss on his beloved’s head, before continuing in an almost reverent tone. “You see me for what I am, and you’re not afraid.” The hand that was stroking (y/n)’s arm stopped, and he used it to gently lift their chin, allowing their lips to meet in blissful harmony. He pulled away, and gazed lovingly into their (e/c) eyes.

“I’ve been on this Earth a very long time, and I have never met anyone like you. In fact, I’d say that if you were a dream, then you’d be the sweetest one that ever existed.”

(Y/N) could only smile lovingly at their boyfriend. “Well, if I’m your sweet dream, the you’re my beautiful nightmare.” They snuggled back into their dearest’s arms, and they remained that way for the rest of the evening.

It was a very strange day when the Corinthian announced that they had to leave for a while.

“Take me with you?”, (y/n) asked, their bottom lip jutted out into a pout.

“I wish I could sweetheart”, the Corinthian sighed. “I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I can”. He sauntered over to them, and wrapped his arms around their waist from behind. “I promise”, he repeated, planting a kiss on their shoulder.

“I’m holding you to that”, (y/n) murmured, and turned their head to catch their lover’s lips with their own. The tender moment was cut short by the chimes of the nightmare’s cell phone. He stepped away to answer, while (y/n)’s eyes followed him to his new position across the room. The call was brief, and when their boyfriend’s lips curled into a smile, they couldn’t help but smile as well. A few moments later, the call was ended, and the Corinthian turned to his partner.

“Change of plans, babe. Looks like you’re coming with me after all.”

And that was the beginning of the end.The pair had traveled to pick up a young boy to deliver him to his sister. Or, rather, that was the story that they told him and his sister. The Corinthian had explained to (y/n) that Rose, the boy’s sister, to break the barrier between dreams, ensuring their future together, among many other things.

(Y/N) had been tasked with making sure that the boy didn’t escape; a task that proved to be much more difficult than it should have been. The boy led (y/n) on a wild goose chase. He managed to catch up to his sister, but not before the Corinthian managed to catch up with them. While his smile seemed quite charming to the children, (y/n) was well aware of the dangers that lurked there. They herded the children back to the room, before heading down to the conference hall where the Corinthian was going to give his speech.

“While I’m talking, don’t you dare close your eyes. There are too many dangerous people in there, and I don’t want to see you get hurt”. His tone was equal parts demanding and concerned. “Do you understand me?

(Y/n) nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of it dearest. Though, if you wanted to keep me safe, why take me to a serial killer convention?”

The Corinthian ignored his lover’s little joke, and chose to answer their question instead.

“I want you to be there to witness the new world we create. Besides, I wouldn’t bring you along if I wasn’t certain that I could protect you.” He gripped their arm and and spun them to face him. “I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather share this moment with.” He flashed his lover a brief smile, before crashing his lips to theirs. Passion and fire ignited in both of them as the kiss deepened, but was cut all to short for their liking by the need for air. Ragged breaths left both of them as they straightened their attire, and headed into the conference hall. They made their way to their seats as the announcer took his time in announcing the Corinthian.

When the time came, (y/n) focused all their attention on their lover. They hung onto every word, relishing in the feeling of a world on the brink of major change. When the Corinthian instructed everyone to close their eyes, (Y/N) trained theirs on their partner. They thought of a world where they succeeded, where they were together, reveling in a new world order. However, a new presence swept into the room, one that the Corinthian seemed highly displeased by.

(Y/N) heard the newcomer’s voice before they saw him.

“You disappoint me, Corinthian”. They turned to view the owner of the voice, a pale man with raven locks, and what appeared to be galaxies in his eyes.

“That must be Morpheus”, (y/n) thought, having recalled the conversation they had with the Corinthian several weeks prior.

The King of Dreams continued. “You and these humans you’ve inspired and created,” he turned his head, and in that moment, (y/n) could have sworn that it was purely directed towards them. His gaze turned back, eyes burning with something unnameable. “You disappoint me.”

“I’ve done my best to be what you made me”, the nightmare responded.

“No, you’ve your worst”, (y/n)’s eyes snapped back to their beloved, and they saw the pain, the anguish he tried to conceal. If they could, they would rush to his side, but they seemed to be frozen in place. Whether it was through fear or magic, (y/n) couldn’t tell, but the desire to get to their lover increased with each passing second. As it grew, so did the knot of anxiety within their stomach.

Dream of the Endless continued his monologue,  moving ever towards the Corinthian.

“Which was in so many ways what I had hoped. You were my masterpiece. A dark mirror made to reflect everything that humanity will not confront.”

(Y/N) wanted to scream. They wanted to shout and make it known to the Dream King that yes, someone had taken a look in that dark mirror. Yes, someone looked. And they saw love reflected back at them. Their thoughts were cut off by their lover’s words.

“That’s what I am”. There was a tinge of pride in his voice. “That’s what I’ve done.”

“No”, Morpheus countered. “Look at you, walking this Earth for over a century, infecting others with your joy of death”. The Endless being paused very briefly to glance in (y/n)’s direction. “But what have you given them? What have you wrought? Nothing.” If (y/n) had known Morpheus better, they would have sworn that they would have heard something akin to pity in his voice. “Just something else for people to be afraid of. That is all”

The Corinthian dared a brief glaze into the eyes of his beloved, eyes that once held all the possibilities of a world made anew. Of a world where there was love for someone like him. Now, all he saw was terror and sorrow.

“So, what now?” It took a great deal of effort to tear his gaze away from theirs, and to look once more at the King of Dreams. “You send me back into their dreams?” Maybe he was blinded by the rage he had towards his former master. Perhaps it was the fear of losing the person he trusted, the person he loved, the most. Whatever the reason, the Corinthian drew his knife, intent to kill, no, rather, to end that which would stop them. He spared one last glance at the person he loved more than anything in all the worlds. He took in what details he could, trying to commit them to memory.

“Cause I won’t go willingly”

“A knife, against a dream?,”Morpheus questioned. And in that moment, (y/n) knew, they truly knew, that their love would not survive this. Try as they might, however, they could not free themselves from their seated prison.

“You don’t think dreams can die? Let’s find out”

“Enough.” The calm severity of Morpheus’s voice made it clear that the Corinthian was going back, one way, or another. He extended his right palm, drawing the sand that formed (y/n)’s beloved towards him.

The Corinthian, on the other hand, wasn’t having it. In one swift motion, the knife tore through Morpheus’s palm, stopping the transfer in its tracks.

Morpheus fell to one knee, stunned, examining his now bloodied palm with confusion. He slowly raised his head, the one question that he could think to ask falling from his lips. “How?”

The grin in the Corinthian’s voice was almost palpable.

“I’ve got Rose Walker getting stronger every second while you get weaker.” The pride returned to his voice, and all the smug satisfaction of a man who believes that he had won came with it.

“She’s taking your place at the center of the Dreaming. She’s bringing the walls down between the sleeper’s minds”

(Y/N) wouldn’t rationalize it until later, but that had been the precise reason the Corinthian had wanted them to keep their eyes open. It was far to risky for them to be in the dream of the others, where they could very easily be harmed.

“And now, they’re all dreaming the same dream. A dream that I inspired!”

“No”, the voice of the Sandman was weak with disbelief.

“It’s already happening. There’s nothing you can do. She’s asleep and dreaming.” (Y/N) could scarce believe the arrogance of the nightmare that they had claimed as theirs. Though, in truth, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise to them. They knew that he had only sealed his fate, and the fate of their love, when Morpheus gave his respond.

“Then she’s not beyond my reach”

“Oh, I think she is.” He paused briefly, almost as if for dramatic effect. “Now that she knows that you’re planning to kill her.

(Y/n) couldn’t see what transpired in the following minutes. Both men disappeared, but just as suddenly reappeared, as if they hadn’t vanished at all.

(Y/N) watched as Morpheus’s hand healed itself. They watched as the me they loved removed his glasses, and with a shaky voice began, “If you think I’m going back to the Dreaming with you-”

The master of the Dreaming swiftly cut the nightmare off.

“You’re not going back”. (Y/N) felt hot tears begin to roll down their face. It was too late now. No time for a final goodbye. Within that one sentence, Morpheus made it clear that they were about to lose everything.

“I brought you into this world to serve humanity. Not to feed upon it.”

“Do you know why I do it?”, the Corinthian started, trying to keep the beginning of the end at bay for as long as possible. He did not want his love to bear witness to what was about to happen.

“So I can taste what it’s like to be human. And you don’t care about humanity. You only care about yourself and your realm and your rules.” The Corinthian felt his heart break, knowing it wouldn’t be enough. Nothing he said would be enough to keep Dream of the Endless from unmaking him, and breaking his lover’s heart. Yet, he tried anyway. He tried, because if there was a sliver of a chance to keep that from happening, he was going to take it.

“I contain the entire collective unconscious. Without my rules, it would consume me. Humanity would be consumed.”

“Or, you might actually feel something”.

‘Something like what I feel for (y/n)’, the Corinthian thought, though he wouldn’t dare to say it aloud, for fear of what Morpheus might do to them.

“I am not the problem, Dream”

“You’re right.” A small glimmer of hope welled between the nightmare and his dreamer. “This was all my fault. Not yours. I had so much hope for you.” And as quickly as that glimmer was built, it was broken. “But I created you poorly then. So I must uncreate you now.”

Tears rolled down both the Corinthian’s and (y/n)’s faces as Dream once again raised his right hand.Red light consumed the Corinthian, and as he crumbled, he spoke his last words.

“I am only sorry I won’t be here to see Rose Walker do the same to you”. Though the sentence was directed at Morpheus, (y/n) understood all that was left unsaid. How their love was sorry, sorry for all the time they could not spend together. How he was sorry that it had to end this way. How he was sorry that he couldn't kiss them one last time.

All that was left of the Corinthian now was a pile of sand, and a skull with teeth within the eye sockets. Dream moved towards the pile slowly, and gently knelt before it, before picking up the skull, and rising with it in his hand. He held it aloft in his palm. (Y/N) dared not to think what he would do with it then. The shock came when they heard him utter his next words.

“Next time I make you, you will not be so flawed, and petty, little dream.” The King of Dreams and Nightmares turned to the convention attendees, who had just began to awaken.

“And you”, he said, addressing the collective, “who call yourselves ‘collectors’, until now, you have sustained fantasies in which you are the victims, comforting daydreams in which you are always right.” Most could only stare at the being before them, truly unaware of all that he could do. But the tears that poured from (y/n)’s eyes as they mourned. Mourned for the loss of the one person who cared for them, even if he did happen to be a nightmare. They scarcely heard as Morpheus continued.

“But no more. The dream is over. I have taken it away. For this is my judgement upon you, that you shall know from this moment on, exactly how craven and selfish, and monstrous you are. That you shall feel the pain of those you have slaughtered. And the grief of those who mourn them still, and you shall carry that pain and grief and guilt with you until the end of time”

(Y/N) felt every word sink into their heart. Truly, a world without their nightmare was too terrible a thought to bear. That night, for the first time in their life, (y/n) was afraid to close their eyes, for who knows what the King of Dreams and Nightmares had in store for them beyond the safety of the waking world.

What horrors would await them inside his realm? There were some things, they thought, that were best left unanswered.

For not all dreams have a happy ending.

[writeroutoftime]

undercover feelings

pairing: jack thompson x reader (requested by: @rubesque)

summary: you and jack don't like each other in the slightest. but when an undercover mission throws the two of you together, what will become of your relationship? (aka - undercover enemies to lovers)

warnings: minor violence

words: 3.4k (not even sorry)

a/n: let me just start by saying, I know my action sequences aren’t the best, but I'm trying to get better. that said, I absolutely adored writing this story, and I hope everyone enjoys it! a lot of thought went into it, so please please let me know what you think!

oOoOo

As you strode towards Chief Dooley’s office, you noticed Jack coming up behind you out of the corner of your eye. Rolling your shoulders back, you tried to ignore his presence even as he was merely steps behind you, almost purposefully trying to catch the back of your heel. Right as you raised your hand to wrap your knuckles against the Chief’s office door, you let out a frustrated sigh.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you spit out, spinning around to face Jack, wishing you could wipe that smug smirk off his face.

“Never in a thousand years, y/l/n. It seems you’re in my way.” he said, trying to step around you and knock on the door himself.

Rolling your eyes, you blocked the door with your body. “Look, I know you think your daily suck-up sessions with the Chief will get you a promotion, but I was personally asked by Chief Dooley to meet with him, so move along.” you told Jack proudly, ready to see his anger bubble over.

To your surprise, Jack’s grin simply widened as he leaned in. “Me too, sweetheart.” he whispered, leaving you speechless, and pushing past you to knock on the door.

Collecting yourself, you quickly entered the office first, standing in front of the Chief’s desk with your hands behind your back. Every so often, your eyes flitted over to Jack, wondering what the Chief could possibly want with the both of you. It was no secret to any agent in the SSR that you and Jack had a strained relationship to say the least. From your first day, Jack had mistaken you as a secretary, thus beginning a long hate-hate relationship. Even to this day, Jack was one of the most pig-headed men you had the displeasure of knowing.

“Alright, I’ll get straight to the point. I’m sending the two of you on an undercover mission to retrieve sensitive, government information.” Chief Dooley explained. “The most opportune time to retrieve it will be during the American Gala in Washington D.C. hosted by a Mr. Mark Williams. The two of you will pose as husband and wife –“

“That’s a real funny joke, Chief.” Jack interrupted, looking shocked at the prospect of going undercover with you.

“Oh, please, Thompson. You’d be lucky if you could ever convince me to marry you.” you shot back.

“I’d rather go undercover as husband and wife with Krzeminski.”

Before you could move to smack Jack’s arm or throw another insult his way, Chief Dooley stood up, slamming his hands on his desk. “Enough! It’s like dealing with a couple of damn toddlers.” he scolded, instantly causing a wave of shame to wash over you and Jack. “Now, can the two of you act like the federal agents you are, or do I need to find two other agents?” he asked, staring both of you down.

“No, sir.” you mumbled, hearing a similar sentiment leave Jack’s lips.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Chief Dooley sat back down. “Now, as I was saying. The two of you are scheduled to leave in two days, and here are files with all you need to know on the target and your responsibilities.” he continued.

The moment you were dismissed, you stormed out of the Chief’s office and made your way back to your desk. Picking up the nearest piece of paperwork, you stared at the words for a moment before shoving it to the side, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Everything all right?” Peggy asked, coming up behind you and setting a mug of coffee down on your desk.

“Chief Dooley is sending me on an undercover mission – with Thompson.” you explained, running your hands down your face.

Peggy looked amused by your so-called bad news and shook her head at your oblivious nature. “Perhaps, it will give you the opportunity to recognize your feelings for Agent Thompson.” she suggested casually.

“Feelings?” you nearly shrieked. “The only feeling I have for Agent Thompson is the feeling of dread every time I see him.” you argued.

“If you say so, dear.” Peggy placated as she walked away.

oOoOo

The entire plane ride to D.C. was filled with tense silence as you poured over the case file the entire time. The only noise that came from Jack was the tapping of his foot against the floor and his pen against the table.

“Do you have to do that?” you finally snapped, reaching forward to snatch the pen out of his hand.

Holding his up in mock surrender, Jack chuckled. “Woah, sweetheart, you might want to be a bit nicer considering we are married and all.” he teased.

“Listen,” you started, voice low and serious. “I know that you joke around and don’t always take everything seriously, but this mission is important to me. You have no idea how hard it is working in that office as a woman, and this mission is my chance to prove myself. I will not have it be ruined by the likes of you.”

For once, Jack had no quick remark to offer, instead he was simply stunned by your speech. Silently admitting defeat, Jack conceded to your wishes. “Alright, I’m sorry, y/l/n.”

You were slightly taken aback by how easy that had been. Perhaps you didn’t give Jack enough credit. “Thank you.” you responded, turning back to your files.

The rest of the flight followed in relative silence, Jack or you only speaking when you had questions or needed clarification from the files. It didn’t pass your mind the subtle looks Jack threw your way, but you ignored them, focused on the task at hand. If he had something to say, he could say it. However, the moment the plane landed, you were whisked away to your separate hotel rooms to prepare for the gala, watching Jack walk away.

oOoOo

It was only when Jack heard the clack of your heels against the marble stairs that he turned around and froze, watching your descent. The y/f/c dress you had donned flattered your figure in every sense, and Jack swore you were an angel in that moment. He suddenly felt aware of the way his breath had quickened, and the way his hands shook the tiniest bit from the nerves. So lost in his own mind, Jack didn’t even notice he had yet to take his eyes off of you.

“Is there something on me?” you asked, suddenly feeling very bashful from Jack’s gaze.

“No, no it’s just – uh – I mean,” Jack stuttered, running a hand through his perfectly gelled hair. “you clean up nice, y/l/n.”

“Not too bad yourself there either, Thompson.” you teased, flashing Jack a dazzling smile.

It was true that Jack looked absolutely dashing in his suit, making your knees just a bit week as you had walked down to meet him. His compliment sent a flutter through your chest, and you were brought back to Peggy’s comment about feelings. Perhaps, deep down, all the back-and-forth bickering had simply been a disguise for something else. But you couldn’t let yourself think about that now, not when you had a mission to complete.

Right as you were about to walk into the ballroom, Jack grabbed your wrist gently, stopping you in your tracks. Before you could question his action, he held up his hand and wiggled his finger, a metal band gleaming in the low light. “Now what kind of husband would I be if didn’t give you a ring?” he asked before pulling a small box out of his jacket pocket and producing a beautiful, sparkling engagement ring.

Carefully, Jack lifted your left hand and slid the cool metal over your ring finger until the diamond rested perfectly against your skin. It was difficult to fight the spark of energy when Jack grabbed your hand and the way he gently rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand.

“There.” he whispered, staring into your y/e/c eyes, a soft smile replacing that smirk that typically resided on his lips.

The two of you stood in the foyer for a moment, lost in the other’s gaze until other couples around you laughed and chatted on their way into the ballroom, breaking the spell. Ever the gentleman, Jack offered his arm, which you accepted, leading you both into the belly of the beast. Walking into said ballroom was breathtaking, the entire room being decorated from floor to ceiling with gold accents; however, you forced yourself to stay focused on the mission at hand.

A quick scan of the room showed you multiple entry/exit points, as well as a good estimate of the security posted throughout the room. Beside you, Jack was doing the same before his eyes widened slightly. Following his line of sight, you noticed your target for the evening, Mark Williams, surrounded by a group of people. While your first instinct was to go straight to the source, you knew that would raise alarms and potentially jeopardize the mission.

“Care for a dance?” Jack asked, having the same idea as you when he noticed Williams leading his wife to the dance floor.

Wordlessly, you allowed Jack to lead you towards the dance floor where he rested a warm, gentle hand on the small of your back while his other hand intertwined with your fingers. A small gasp left your lips from the proximity between you and Jack, and it was difficult to not become intoxicated by his cologne. For a moment, you allowed yourself to admire Jack’s strong jaw, piercing eyes, and the few hairs that had fallen out of place under the golden light the room provided.

The music began to pick up, and you let out a surprised cry of delight as Jack spun you around the floor, selling every bit of the perfectly happy couple. After one such spin, Jack brought you closer and whispered that you had caught the attention of Williams. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the man staring in your direction.

“Trust me.” you told Jack under your breath before you took the lead and danced the two of you straight into your target. “Oh golly, I am so sorry, sir.” you apologized, feigning innocence. “I’m such a clutz, I don’t know why you bring me to these events, dear.” you said, aiming the second half of your sentence to Jack.

“Lord knows why, sweetie.” Jack responded, quickly catching onto your act. “Sorry again, sir. My wife said it herself – she can be a real clutz.”

Mark Williams flashed a quick smirk, looking your body up and down, seemingly sizing the two of you up. “No harm done, pretty lady. I’m Mark Williams. Mind making it up to me with a dance? That is, if your husband doesn’t mind.” he asked, though both you and Jack knew it was more a command.

“It’s the least I can do.” you giggled, accepting Williams’ hand, and letting him pull you away from Jack just like you thought he would.

Immediately, the band in the corner struck up a slower tune, and Williams placed a hand on your waist and began to awkwardly sway off beat. Unlike Jack’s soft, warm hands, this felt cold and unforgiving, and you forced yourself to swallow back the nausea.

“So, you must be used to all the glamor of these events, huh? Being a powerful man and whatnot.” you flirted, batting your eyelashes to help sell your act.

“You could say that, though they get pretty boring after a while. But having someone like you here helps to pass the time.” Williams said, slipping his hand further down your back.

Humming in response, you used the distraction to subtly reach your hand into Williams’ jacket pocket where you silently cheered when your hand touched a key – which you assumed unlocked his office. Carefully, you slipped it into your own pocket before squeezing William’s bicep with a smile to keep his suspicions down. Before he could slip his hand down any further, you pushed back gently and flashed an apologetic smile.

“Excuse me for a moment.” you purred, slipping away to the nearest hallway, keeping an eye out for Jack. Suddenly, an arm shot out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you further down the hallway. You nearly let out a shout of surprise before you saw that it was Jack.

“Are you done flirting or what?” he hissed, eyes narrowed, and chest puffed out.

Rolling your eyes, you flashed him the key you had slipped into the pocket of your dress. “Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Thompson.” you teased, scanning the doors for Williams’ office.

Once you reached the door, you quickly unlocked his office and ushered Jack in, quietly closing the door behind you and locking it. The office itself was spotless, leaving you no clue as to where the files could be hidden. Wordlessly, you and Jack split up, searching through every nook and cranny in order to complete your mission.

It wasn’t long before a soft “found it” came from Jack’s side of the room. Rushing over, you peered at the document in front of him to confirm that it was the correct document. Joy filled your body when you saw that your mission was a success.

Placing a hand on Jack’s bicep, you beamed at him. “Jack this is amazing, we did it!” you celebrated.

Jack let out a small chuckle, enjoying the way you were so excited. He glanced down at your hand on his arm, then back towards you where he locked his eyes with yours. Some unknown force took over you, causing the two of you to lean in towards each other, lips inching closer. Just as you could feel his warm breath on your face and almost touch his lips, loud rattling and banging came from the two, pulling the two of you apart instantly.

“Williams.” you both whispered, looking for a way out.

An open window caught your eye, and you ripped the file out of Jack’s hand as you pushed him towards said window. “Go, or neither of us are going to make it out of here.” you said through clenched teeth.

Jack hesitated a moment before he ran to climb out of the window, instantly turning around to offer you a helping hand. Right as you jumped out, the office door burst open, and Williams appeared with a half dozen bodyguards. He caught a flash of your dress and noticed the torn apart file cabinet, quickly putting two and two together.

“Shit! Get those two, dead or alive, and bring me back that file!” he shouted, pointing in the direction of your escape

It wasn’t long before bullets whizzed past your head as you and Jack ran through the garden towards the getaway car. Adrenaline pumped through your veins, minimizing the dull ache on the side of your arm you eventually felt. All you could think about was getting yourself and Jack out of there in one piece.

The moment the car came into view, you pushed yourself further and faster, sliding into the passenger seat as Jack started the engine and drove off with a squeal. There were still bullets that banged against the car, but once Jack stepped on the gas and swerved off the beaten road, you finally allowed yourself a breath of relief.

“Please tell me after all that, you still have the damn file.” Jack said, glancing to his side at your crumpled figure.

Slamming a, albeit slightly bent, manilla file folder onto the dashboard, you let out a dry chuckle. “You’re welcome. Maybe, for once, Thompson, you can just admit that I actually know what I’m – shit!” you suddenly groaned, clutching the side of your arm, and pulling away to reveal red, sticky fingers.

Jack looked over once more at your groan of pain and slammed on the breaks the moment he saw blood. “You got shot?” he all but shouted, turning your body so he could see where a bullet had lodged itself into the side of your arm.

“Thank you, Sherlock.” you breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut as Jack poked and prodded the area. “You’re gonna need to dig it out.” you told him after he continued to sit in silence.

“I know!” Jack snapped, before sighing upon seeing your reaction and approaching the situation softer. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.” he said before stepping out of the car and grabbing the first aid box from the trunk.

Jack quickly opened the passenger side of the door and knelt down so he could reach your wound. “This is gonna sting.” Jack whispered before he began to clean the wound with some of the alcohol from the kit, wincing along with you.

Jack felt his heart clench as you gripped his shoulder in pain, biting your lip. It became even worse when he started to remove the bullet from your arm, though there was nothing that he could do. There was silence between you and Jack, leaving Jack to his own devices. Seeing the blood on your hands and having to dig a bullet out of you made Jack feel as though he had been the one to be shot. In fact, he wished he had been to avoid you going through this pain.

“Got it.” Jack finally announced, throwing the bullet to the side and wrapping your arm in gauze.

“Thank you.” you said, letting out one more hiss of pain.

Instead of responding, Jack let his hand linger on your arm as he poured over every inch of your body, trying to determine if you had been injured anywhere else. There was such an intensity in his eyes that you couldn’t believe this was the same man you bickered with on an almost hourly basis. It had to be some kind of trick your eyes were playing on you from the pain.

“There you go, you’ll be alright.” Jack reassured you, tying the final strip of bandage around your arm, his hands lingered gently. “I gotta say, you really know how to give a fella a heart attack, y/n.”

“Oh please, I’m sure you would’ve forgotten all about me and reveled in all the attention you’d receive from the Chief.” you shot back, deflecting any emotions that could make you look weak and vulnerable.

Jack’s face morphed into one of hurt, and you felt guilty at the way his titled head and soft eyes made him look like a lost puppy. “Is that what you really think of me? That I wouldn’t care if you didn’t make it out of this mission?”

“You don’t like me, Jack. And I don’t like you. That’s how we’ve always operated, what else could I have possibly interpreted from that?” you argued, frustrated that he seemed to be dragging this conversation on.

“That’s not true, and you know it, y/n.” Jack countered, taking both of your hands in his grasp. “Both of us know deep down that this enemies act is self-defense, but I know that after tonight, I can’t pretend anymore. And I’m pretty sure you don’t want to either.”

For the second time that night, Jack cupped your cheeks in his hand, and leaned in. His lips hovered over yours for just a moment, giving you the chance to change your mind, but you launched yourself forward and finally kissed Jack Thompson. The kiss was sweet, but passionate, years of pent-up feelings bubbling over the surface. Jack pulled you close to his body while your fingers played with the hair and the nape of his neck. You had never allowed yourself to imagine this moment, but in that moment you knew you could get used to be kissed by Jack for the rest of your life.

Eventually, the two of you pulled away, foreheads leaning against each other, and your breath the only thing that could be heard in the night air. Jack’s thumb brushed against your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, now unable to reject his touch.

“Wow,” you breathed out. “maybe we should bottle our feelings like that again.” you teased.

“No, I don’t want to not be able to kiss you again.” Jack whispered, before he pulled you back in for another kiss, grateful you were safe in his arms, giving him the rest of his life to spend with you, and making Peggy five dollars richer.

oOoOo

tagging: @sarcasm-n-insomnia @bde-break-down-energy

[simplysimpingsimp]

HI, I LOVE YOUR STORIES SO MUCH!

Especially with Dad!Zenitsu! I also have a small request if you don't mind! Can I ask for something fluffy with Rengoku?

Like, Rengoku just returned from a mission in the Mugen Train, wounded but alive and Reader just runs around him with medication, bandages, just wanting to help him! And maybe small cute confession? If you don't want to or can't do this, it's alright!YOU ARE WONDERFUL, MWAH

Hi hi Ilumin!! Ahhh you’re so sweet TT I’m so glad to hear that you love my stories, that means so much to me !! Of course you can have this request <3 !! Rengoku means so much to me and this request is what I wish would have happened at the end of the Mugen Train arc T^T but anyway! This is a very sweet request :D as always I’m sorry for any mistakes, I will gladly go back and fix them!! I used fem pronouns for this one but if it’s not to your liking then I will gladly go back and change it 0:! It’s no problem at all :D!! And I’m super sorry for taking a while to get to you TT

🔥—————————————————————🔥

🔥 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

🔥 𝚁𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚘𝚔𝚞 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

🔥 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: 𝚜𝚑𝚎/𝚑𝚎𝚛

🔥 ⚠︎︎⚠︎︎⚠︎︎⚠︎︎𝚝𝚠: 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍⚠︎︎⚠︎︎⚠︎︎⚠︎︎

🔥—————————————————————🔥

Hurriedly she ran to where Rengoku was being taken for his critical injuries to be treated — the butterfly mansion.

She felt no tiredness, neither the burning in her muscles as she ran or the scratches from bushes she cut through to shorten her pathing. Her heavy steps kicked up dirt clouds from the path as she nearly reached the front gate.

Y/n had been out on her own mission away from her usual area around the butterfly mansion as a sort of combat medic where she would treat the injured demon slayers before the kakushi arrived. Bandages and medications were stashed away in her satchel, she was sure he had arrived at the mansion already but she felt that she needed it.

Fearful thoughts raced in her head as she prayed for his safety and that he would be fine by the time she arrived. Tears burned in her eyes as she prayed to any being that he would still be breathing, that it was some sort of sick joke that he was in critical condition.

“Please Kyo, j-just hold on,” she panted out as she reached the gate with tears streaming down her warmed cheeks.

She ran in, as if on cue Tanjiro guiding her to where he was recovering.

Tears rolled down her cheeks in large droplets as she hurriedly approached his beaten form after quickly thanking Tanjiro. Falling to her knees, a sob escaped her lips as she watched his sleeping form. How much pain did he have to endure?

Her hand delicately stroked the yellow hair she adored, as she examined all the bandaged parts of his body. The way his chest would staggardly rise and drop, there was no doubt he was struggling to just breathe.

“K-Kyojuro,” her voice meek and broken as she cried into the bed.

A soft groan filled her ears as she watched him stir, hearing a pained expression and feeling a familiar hand on her head.

“D-Don’t cry N/n, I-I’m fine-e,” his voice weak and low, pain lacing every word he spoke yet there was a gentle smile on his lips.

She continued to cry, shaking her head, “H-How could I n-not cry?!” She sobbed out as her hands gently gripped onto the blanket that covered him.

A pained snicker left him joined by a quiet wince, “Y-You always w-worry too hard, b-but I’ll be f-fine. I a-asked Shinobu i-if she could p-put me under y-your care.”

A light blush tainted her cheeks on top of the blush from her crying, “I tr-trust you’ll t-take care o-of me,” his words resonating in her heart as she vigorously nodded and gently held onto his hand.

“I promise! I promise I’ll get you back and running in no time,” she spoke as she wiped away her tears, a faint smile on her lips.

“That’s my girl,” his voice soft as his eyes fluttered closed and he fell into deep sleep.

᪥᪥

Months passed as she helped him rehabilitate and heal. Every minute of it she loved in the sense that she grew even closer to him, but it always brought her sadness when she would watch him struggle. Yet Y/n admired the way he would push through obstacles and his continue on with his work ethic, hardly did he ever get frustrated with himself as he did his best.

“Good job today, Kyo!” She cheered happily as she brought over his meal and medications, “I’m so proud of the progress you’ve made.”

He smiled brightly at her, now donning an eyepatch on his left eye.

He hummed, “Mm! And it’s all thanks to you! Thank you for the meal,” he almost yelled out as the tray was set on his lap. His voice was endearing and loud as it always was.

She giggled as she heard every ‘umai’ as he ate his meal with a gentle blush on his face.

It made her heart flutter and feel full with love seeing the goofy flame hashira recover at astounding rate.

Just a few months ago, it looked like he would just barely make it and he would become a husk of the man he was. And yet, there he was. The same Kyojuro, as if nothing had happened to him. His smile was still the same, just as bright and charming. His gaze remained the same, despite his eye being hidden by an eyepatch. Everything about him was the same. The determination and devotion to his duty as a demon slayer was admirable yet she wished that he would think of himself every so often.

Recalling an interaction when he took her in for training before sending her off to do her final selection exam, she could hear his loud voice say, “You’ll do great!”

As Y/n remembered that charming smile on his face as she nervously blushed, hesitancy in her gaze as she peered onto the path surrounded by wisteria.

His touch on her shoulders was soft as his smile became gentle, “N/n, you worked so hard to get to where you are. You are as strong as the swordsmen in the upper ranks of the corps, I’ll be waiting for you, okay?”

He gently draped his haori over her shoulders, before patting her head for a final time and encouragingly pushing her onto the path, “You can do it!!”

Y/n blinked her e/c eyes slowly, as she realized…

She was in love with him.

Y/n felt her face warm, realizing she had been staring at him unknowingly before quickly ripping her gaze away from him who was distracted with his meal.

“N/n, are you okay?” He spoke concerned as he reached over to touch her forehead.

She squeaked, “Ah yeah yeah I’m okay! Don’t worry,” her voice sounding panicked but adorable.

He chuckled as he finished his meal, gulping down his medication with tea before carefully setting the tray on the wooden nightstand.

“Kyojuro, could I tell you something?” Her voice soft as she looked down, the blush on her cheeks darkening.

“Mm! Please do,” he looked at her attentively with a soft smile.

“So there’s this person..” her voice trailing.

“Is that so?” He responded curiously.

She nodded, “And I really like him.”

“That’s amazing!” He exchanged with a bright smile, “Who is it? Who is it?” he questioned curiously, “I need to know who to warn to protect you at all costs.”

A furious blush formed on her face as she got close to him before gently flicking his forehead with a soft pout, “It’s you, dummy. Kyo, I-I really like you..No, not just like...I love you! And I’m certain of it.” she looked away from his yellow ringed ruby eyes as her blush became pink, “But I don’t expect you to feel the same,” a saddened smile on her lips, “That day when you lent me your haori, I felt so at peace. Like you were there with me, encouraging me to get through any trial I encountered at the final selection.”

Y/n fiddled with her fingers as she felt her heart nearly burst from embarrassment and worry, “That’s all I wanted to say,” she looked at him with a soft smile as she braced herself for probable rejection.

He looked at her, watching her nervously play with her fingers. Kyojuro laughed, that same hearty laugh that made her heart flutter.

“What makes you think I don’t feel the same,” he spoke lovingly, “I love you too N/n! You’re the reason why I’m still here today. You’re the one that saved me and encouraged me to heal and get better,” he placed his hand over hers, “I realized that I’ve loved you since we met! One night when I had a dream about you!”

He chuckled, “You looked so beautiful in white,” he wiggled his forked eyebrows making her blush return as a dark red.

With a reddened face, she leaned in and gently kissed his cheek. As she was about to pull away, Kyojuro brought her back and kissed her lips lovingly and sweetly.

Fireworks blasted in her as her heart pounded aggressively in her chest as she felt her lips embrace his. Love evident in every crevice of his soft lips as he gently moved along with hers before pulling away, that adorable cheeky smile on his lips as a light pink dusted his cheeks.

“Well I guess that means you’re all mine now,” he spoke proudly with a smile lacing every word, “I love you N/n!” he shouted.

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm as she nodded with a gentle smile on her lips, “I love you too, Kyo.”

ᴇɴᴅ

🔥—————————————————————🔥

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛɪɴɢ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ

ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ <3 ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ғᴇᴇʟ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs/ᴀsᴋs/ɪᴅᴇᴀs/ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs/ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ!! sᴇᴇ

ʏᴀʟʟ sᴏᴏɴ ( ˘ ³˘)♡!!

ᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs: 17

[gamergirl929]

I’m Coming Home (Tobin Heath x Reader)

After nearly 2 years overseas with the military, you’re finally coming home, and you’re coming home to Tobin Heath. 

DISCLAIMER: The following is a MILITARY FIC, with everything going on, I wanted to put a disclaimer, just in case for those who may be triggered by what’s going on. 

This is pure fluff. 

Military homecomings.    

You’d always seen videos of military homecomings, the relatives of the returning soldier cheering and crying, sometimes even screaming as their loved one returned safely home.    

You only hoped that you would get a similar reaction, after being away for so long, nearly 2 years in fact, you were finally coming home, and you were coming home to Tobin Heath and you were coming home in the most public way possible.    

You rubbed your hands together, nervously pacing the backstage area, the boots on your feet growing heavier and heavier as your nerves grew.    

What if she wasn’t excited to see you?    

What if she didn’t appreciate the surprise?    

The questions plaguing you caused your mind to race.    

The sound of approaching footsteps make you tense, your head on a swivel as you attempt to find a hiding spot, but when you realize it’s Christen Press who’s rounding the corner your muscles untense.    

“Hey.” You smile as the forward envelopes you in a hug, the woman squeaking when you pick her up off her feet and spin her around.  

“It’s so good to see you Y/N.” She grins, giving you the tightest of squeezes.    

You had the pleasure of meeting Christen Press long ago, considering she was basically Tobin's other half, in a friendly sense.  

You put her down with a grin, smiling when she places her hands on your shoulders.  

"So, everything is set, are you ready?" She asks and you shrug.  

"What if she doesn't like the-OW!" You wince as Christen smacks you in the arm. 

"She's going to love it, because she loves YOU." She pokes you in the chest and you shrug, your cheeks dusted pink.  

"You think so?"  

"Yea-  

"WHOA!"  

The pair of you jump, your eyes widening when you see Emily Sonnett standing before you, the blonde's eyes wide.  

"Wait, aren't you-  

Christen dives on the blonde, slapping a hand over her mouth.  

"SHHHH! TOBIN CAN'T FIND OUT ABOUT THIS!" She whisper yells, glancing down the hallway that Emily had made her way down to get to the two of you to make sure they were in fact alone.  

Emily gives the two of you a thumbs up, Christen's hand leaving her mouth.  

"I'm great at keeping secrets."  

Your brows arch when Christen rolls her eyes.  

"She isn't."  

Emily pouts.  

"I want to help! What do you need me to do, distract Tobin?" She asks with a grin, wiggling excitedly.  

A smile stretches across your face.  

"I like her."  

Emily's grin widens.  

"See, Y/N likes meeeeeeeee! Pleaseeeeeeeee?" Emily begs and Christen sighs. 

"Okay, okay, but if you ruin the surprise, I'll kill you." She threatens and Emily's eyes widen.  

“No need to get violent.”  

                                                             ***  

You watched with great pride as Tobin player her heart out, the woman assisting Christen on two goals. 

Though the closer the end of the game got, the more the nerves within you riled up.  

You paced the hallway you’d taken up occupancy in, your thoughts drifting to the day you’d met Tobin Heath.  

                                                             ***  

Meeting Tobin Heath had been what some would call, fate, if fate meant nearly bulldozing over the forward while on your morning jog, then yes, you would call it fate.  

You grimace, your eyes wide as you screech to a halt, the woman crashing to the sidewalk, the woman she was walking with dropping down on the ground beside her.  

You jerk your headphones out, your eyes wide in horror.  

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You say as you drop to your knees beside her, your eyes scanning her for any visible injuries.  

“It’s okay, I’ve had worse.”  

You frown as the woman begins to move to her feet, jumping up so you can help her up.  

When your hands meet hers, a spark shoots up your arm, something that she must feel as well considering she stiffens.  

The two of you pause, simply staring at one another, Y/E/C orbs locked with brown.  

“Hi.” You whispered, the woman’s lips splitting into a grin.  

“Hey.”  

Beside her, her brunette friend moves to her feet, her lips split into a massive grin.  

“I’m Y/N.” You whispered, giving her hand a squeeze, a squeeze she returned.  

“I’m Tobin.”  

                                                             ***  

You smile as your back rests against a nearby wall, remembering the day you met both Tobin and Christen, the two a package deal of sorts.  

Christen quickly became close with you as well, you were interested in dating her best friend after all.  

Unfortunately, the night you told Tobin how you felt was the night before you left for another deployment, but Tobin didn’t care, the woman’s lips meeting yours in an unforgettable kiss.  

She’d promised to wait for you, and she had, for two years she waited, and now, you were here, unbeknownst to her of course.  

“Hey.”  

You jump, a smile stretching across your face when you see Emily making her way towards you, donned in a yellow vest.  

“Show time?” She asks and you nod, your hands beginning to tremble.  

“Show time.”  

                                                             ***  

Emily makes her way back out to the bench, the blonde flopping down in the seat she’d just vacated beside Lindsey.  

“Where’d you go?” She asks and Emily shrugs.  

“Nowhere.”  

Lindsey’s eyes narrow.  

“You’re not a very good liar.” She snorts and Emily shushes her.  

“Just watch.”  

“Watch what?” Lindsey asks confused; the blonde’s question completely ignored by Emily.  

The final whistle blows, which signals to you that you’re to take your position at the tunnel’s entrance.  

Luckily for you Tobin keeps her head down, the woman high-fiving the Irish players on her way passed them.  

You can’t help but grin when you see her, your heart skipping a beat in your chest.  

You could only hope she would be as excited to see you, as you were her.  

“WE HAVE A SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!” A voice booms over the intercom, players from the USWNT and the Ireland Women’s National Team glancing at one another in confusion.  

Tobin glances around, her brows furrowing when she sees the massive grin on Christen’s face.  

“What?” She asks and Christen shrugs, her smile widening.  

“Seriously Chris, what is it-  

“Join me in welcoming home! Y/N Y/L/N after two years of deployment!”  

Tobin’s eyes widen, the forward looking passed Christen to see you making your way out of the tunnel and towards her.  

Her lips split in an enormous grin, her brown orbs immediately filling with tears as she runs towards you, bypassing her teammates.  

You start to jog, unable to keep your composure as you run towards the woman who kept you going over the years.  

She leaps into your arms when she gets to you, the fans cheering as she wraps her legs around your middle.    

You spin the two of you around, smiling as Tobin surges in, her lips crashing against yours.  

Her nails scrape against the back of your neck as the two of you kiss, reluctantly pulling apart when you can’t stop grinning.  

Nearby, Emily grins, Lindsey smacking her in the arm.  

“You knew, didn’t you?! You asshole!”  

“If Em, knew then Christen HAD to have known...!” Kelley turns to Christen who shrugs.  

“Who do you think helped her set it up?” She nods to you, grinning when she sees you bury your face in the crook of Tobin’s neck, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You’re here.” She whispers in your ear and you sniffle, nodding.  

“I’m here.”  

You pull back, your forehead resting against hers.  

You bump your nose against hers, the two of you chuckling.  

“I’ve missed you so much.” You sniffle, your lips splitting in a massive grin.  

“I love you.” You whisper softly, the woman’s eyes holding a glassy sheen.  

“I love you too.”  

Again, you close the distance between the two of you, Tobin’s lips meeting yours in a long overdue kiss.  

“I’ve missed you too.” She whispers against your lips, burying her face in your neck as she cries.  

“The thought of coming home to you is what kept me going, and now that I’m here I never want to let you go.” You confess, turning your head to kiss Tobin’s temple.  

“Wherever you are is home, you ARE my home, Tobin.” You whisper, Tobin pulling back, tears streaming down her face, tears you’re quick to wipe away from her flawless skin.

“And you’re mine.” She whispers, leaning in to press another long, passionate kiss to your lips before she again whispers.  

“And you’re mine.”