#she's relaxing in my laundry basket for now though <3

[watermelinoe]

hoping new kitty's terrible breath is from dental disease that's still treatable

[catscratching]

I posted 339 times in 2022

That's 332 more posts than 2021!

56 posts created (17%)

283 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@gray-morality

@lilbittymonster

@nerdberd

@lettersnorth

@kuro8529

I tagged 320 of my posts in 2022

Only 6% of my posts had no tags

#fakhri man'tik - 67 posts

#seda ballard - 61 posts

#queued - 26 posts

#seda - 21 posts

#fakhri - 15 posts

#ooc - 12 posts

#♥ - 10 posts

#wondroustailsofffixv - 10 posts

#reference - 9 posts

#rp - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 119 characters

#but all the books set in a particular universe have it - even amongst characters that have no reason to share the trait

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Pets

Wondrous Tails of FFXIV

2022.05.03

Arak sighed as the sounds from the main part of the apartment died off into soft murmurs and rustling linens, burrowing down into the cozy nest he’d made for himself in the laundry basket.  It was about damned time.

He was pretty pleased with himself, all things considered – his Person had been a difficult case, and while he had no regrets about taking Fakhri on as a project, it had been more challenging than he had first expected.

The Viera had seemed determined to drive himself into an early grave, and the little Companion had had his work cut out for him; herding his chosen Person onto a path that didn’t dead-end without being noticed was challenging even for the best of them.  That Arak had ended up in the body of a small rodent… well.  He chose to see the assignment as a statement of confidence in his abilities.

Finding the little miqo’te had been a stroke of luck.  He’d kept an eye out for potential acquaintances for his charge – Fakhri’s tendency to be a loner wasn’t, in Arak’s opinion, terribly good for him, and his attempts to help his Person find a someone to bring him back to life hadn't been successful.  When Seda had wandered in, the little rat had sensed there was something different about her; something special.  She ended up being perfect.

And now, after all the setbacks, after missteps on both sides, old fears faced… his whiskers arched with satisfaction as he heard the soft whispers from the other room.

“I love ya girl.”   A low humm and more rustling.

“I love you too.”

And then there was nothing but deep, even breathing, and Arak joined his little family in sleep.

@wondroustailsofffxiv, @gray-morality

9 notes - Posted May 3, 2022

#4

Domestic habits / Love Languages

Wondrous Tails of FFXIV

2022.05.13

Fakhri had stepped out, taking Arak with him, and Seda exhaled heavily, relieved to have the flat to herself for a few hours.  He had been incredibly accommodating, and she had done her best to be a good flatmate, but it was a small apartment, and she was practically living in his armpit.

She was careful – so careful – to try and avoid her housekeeping habits and preferences from coming across as criticism or a negative statement against his own lifestyle.  But the fact remained… in such a small space, clutter quickly became overwhelming, and she had always preferred cozy organization.

More than that, acts of service were one of her strongest love languages.  Tending to their shared chores, cooking, cleaning and tidying made her feel as though she was doing something tangible to show Fakhri how much he meant to her. 

Mama would laugh, she thought to herself with a smile as she put fresh sheets on the bed.  Bocquet probably will, when I tell them.  Between them, she and Bocquet had managed her mother since she was a toddler; Silana had been warm and loving, but absent-minded; her thoughts were always on something more important than meals or housekeeping.  Fakhri wasn’t buried in research all the time, but he had other things tugging at his attention – as much as she tried to be a restful, emotional presence at home, there was still another person in his space he had to shield against, when before he could relax entirely.  All the same, living with him had, in so many ways, felt like home in a way she didn’t know how to express.

By the time her partner returned, she was curled up with a book, the flat’s windows open to catch the scent of petrichor as an early spring storm passed over.  Rejuvenated and refreshed, she got up to prepare their evening meal; a new Hannish recipe he had mentioned casually a few weeks previous.

Sometimes love was hard.  But sometimes… it was as easy as clean sheets and a homecooked meal.

@wondroustailsofffxiv @gray-morality

10 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

#3

Discovery

Wondrous Tails of FFXIV

2022.05.24

It was one of those evenings.

Fakhri had stepped out to lighten the pockets of some pompous ass with more money than manners, and Seda had not been needed.   They had found that they worked well as a team; she used cosmetics and clothing to subtly alter her appearance while he used glamour.  One distracted the target while the other got whatever it was they came for.

But the intended tactic tonight had called for just one player – and the rumor mill suggested that their mark had a short fuse.  Fakhri was the better player, and he could, if it came to it, step out of sight, change his glamour, and walk away.  Seda was much more vulnerable.

So she found herself at loose ends, wandering the flat and wondering how things were going.   Arak was shadowing Fakhri (something she approved of), so she didn’t even have the distraction of talking to their fuzzy companion to distract her.

“Bloody hell,”  She muttered to herself.  “He’s always managed fine without me.  Settle down, Ballard.”

He had… but he had also found himself stripped naked and beaten in an alley before, too. 

Finally, she decided to spend the time doing something productive, and took the dagger from its hiding place.   She had been doing the forms for a few weeks now, and it past time she started using the blade again; she needed to acclimate herself to the weight and balance of the weapon.

It was still challenging, even as slow and measured as she was going.  Her muscles trembled with the effort of holding each position, and sweat began to trickle between her breasts and down her back.  When her knees threatened to collapse beneath her, she put the blade away and began to do some yoga stretches to cool down, breathing deeply and evenly as her body protested.   She was straining to hold Downward Dog a little bit longer when her arms gave out, dumping her unceremoniously onto her face.

She lay collapsed onto the carpet, huffing to herself that she had let herself get so unfit… when something caught her eye under the sofa.   Frowning, she wriggled closer and reached out to draw a plain wood box out of its hiding place.  It wasn’t large enough to hold another set of Oracle cards, and while the wood was smoothly finished and the box well made, there was nothing that leapt out at her to suggest its purpose or contents.

Curiosity prickled.  Normally, she did her best to avoid snooping.  Their flat was perfect for one person – for two… it was decidedly ‘cozy.’   Living so close to one another, they both went to a good bit of effort to be courteous – and while it had had some unexpected consequences (Seda suspected that they both had erred on the side of excessive caution with regards to physical intimacy, and if they had been less polite about it… ahh well.  Water under the bridge), generally she felt like it helped maintain cordial relations between them.

But this wasn’t anywhere she’d consider personal or private.  They each had their own shelf in the wardrobe; he had a place in the bathroom where he kept personal items.  So she didn’t hesitate long before wriggling into a cross-legged, seated position and flipping the brass latches open.

She didn’t really have a preconceived notion of what she might find inside; Fakhri was a man of varied interests, and while he lived a very minimalist life (something she understood and approved of), he still took pains to take care of his belongings, and bought quality items when possible.

So it took her a few moments to parse what she was seeing, nestled into a velvet cushion.   It was beautifully carved; the artisan had taken pains to shape the curves to take advantage of the wood’s natural grain, making an object of great aesthetic beauty as well as function.  

“Why would he have a dil—“  She broke off, noting the swooping, curved handle; something all responsible people wanted for this particular type of toy.   “Oh. OH.”  

She was torn between the desire to close the box and shove it back into its hiding place, and to examine the massager a bit more closely.   It felt… uncomfortable, as if she had caught him pleasuring himself and was watching without his knowledge or consent.  (She would, she admitted, happily watch if he knew she was there, and enjoy seeing how long she could last before… er. ‘helping’.) 

At the same time, this was an aspect of his sexuality she had been hesitant to ask about; it was awkward enough, knowing that he had had perfunctory experience with women before, that she had been the first he had developed feelings for.    She still had difficulty silencing the fear that he would one day decide that the experiment was over, and that he still craved a male partner. 

On the other hand… She lifted the plug out of its cushion, running her thumb over the smooth wood and hefting it on her palm, feeling its weight and trying to imagine its use.  The mental image evoked was enough to make her flush, her skin prickling with heat as her imagination gleefully suggested some of the ways the toy could be used by a partner.  It would substitute for the anatomy she lacked quite well, if he wanted to include her in its use.    

She needed to know more.  Tucking it gently back into its box, she got to her feet and reached for her linkpearl.

“Seeeda,”  A feminine voice purred.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need some advice,”  She settled into the sofa, the box in her lap.  “About toys for men.”

“Oho?”  Rustling came across the link, a man’s voice murmuring in the background, Cat’s voice a bit muffled as she answered.  “Personal, darling.  You don’t want to hear this anyway.”

More indistinct sounds, then Catrienne’s voice returned, clear and brisk.  “Alright.  There's only one kind of toy you'd call me about; tell me everything.”

By the time Fakhri returned, flush with the success of his evening, the box was safe in its hiding spot, and Seda had received both an education, as well as the name of a very skilled leatherworker.   She just needed to decide how to broach the subject.

@wondroustailsofffxiv @gray-morality

10 notes - Posted May 24, 2022

#2

Caught in the Rain

Wondrous Tails of FFXIV

2022.06.06

[ Thus begins the first of my final prompts; I have enjoyed this challenge so very much, and welcome all the new followers I've gained. I hope you all enjoy reading of Seda and Fakhri's adventures as much as we do writing them. ♥ ]

Footsteps sounded on the path along the river, barely audible over the muted rush of the water below.  Bocquet sat on the rough bench they had painstakingly chiseled from the surrounding stone, leaning back against an exposed root, face turned up toward an overcast sky.

They had come more frequently, after Seda and Fakhri’s visit; the resolve to go to Thavnair had faded, in the face of the challenges of daily life.  The conversation with Arak felt like a dream – why would a forest spirit waste its time speaking to them? – and the often-fragile grip they had on reality began to slip.  It was easier to sit here, with Silana's cairn, and watch the water, letting their thoughts trickle away like the leaves that fell on the surface.

Opening their eyes, Bocquet regarded the newcomer, then turned back toward the river, voice dry.  “I thought I smelled something foul, and there you are.”

A tall elezen with the sun-bronzed skin of a Wildwood smiled, his eyes shadowed behind a pair of wire-framed spectacles.  “Prickly as ever, I see.  Sometimes I wonder why I bother.”  

Their exchange had the ease of habitual banter, and he sat beside the still figure holding vigil, settling back on the bench with every indication he intended to join the androgynous Bocquet in their reflections.

“I do too,” Bocquet murmured after several minutes of silence.

“Pardon?”  The forest was never truly quiet; birds sang, insects hummed, the rising wind danced through the trees, creating a rustling sound not unlike the whisper of a woman’s ballgown. 

“Wonder why you bother.”  Bocquet hadn’t moved, but there was an air of expectation now, of waiting.

Anisai was quiet in his turn, shifting his backside slightly to ease the ache of sitting on the rough stone, giving the question due consideration.  Finally, he said in a low voice, “I loved her too.”

It wasn’t what Bocquet had expected; their eyes snapped open as they turned to their companion.  “You never said anything.”

“What was there to say?  You had made your choice,” Anisai shrugged, his voice still soft.  He had come to grips with it years ago.  “It would not have changed anything; I would have loved you both, and forever been on the outside looking in.  It was better for all three of us that I stepped away.”

Bocquet blew out a breath, reeling from this revelation.  “But why are you here now?  I’m not— Ani, I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t think there will ever be anyone – “

“I’m not here to try and seduce you,” Anisai snorted.  He then sighed, and tentatively leaned back against a different root, trying to get comfortable.  “Word gets around, Q.  You have grown more and more reclusive, and people talk.”

“If this is about what happened with Sedani,” Bocquet straightened, visibly bristling.  “I will not apologize or let them brush it off as grief.  That boy is damned lucky I didn’t skin him alive.”

“Peace, peace!”  Ani raised both hands in a placating gesture, his brows drawing together.  The incident in question had happened two decades ago; that it was still fresh in Bocquet’s mind was troubling.   “When was the last time you came into the city?  Rolfe and Ysabel said they never see you either.”

Thunder rumbled overhead, the air changing, becoming electrified.  Anisai had the uncomfortable sensation of an impending storm of an entirely different sort; Bocquet had been powerful when they were young, eschewing their gifts and letting them wither.  Would they reach for those abilities now, to avoid uncomfortable truths?

Bocquet looked away, unable to bear the weight of their companion’s eyes.  It had not been that long, surely, since they were at the Hawthorne’s.   Before the children visited, yes, but… Hm.  And Gridania itself?  The last time had been… their shoulders tightened as they realized they couldn’t remember.   Food was easy enough to come by in the Shroud, and their needs were simple; Rolfe Hawthorne had always been willing to trade fresh meat for whatever Bocquet couldn’t provide themselves, and…

Nophica’s tears, it had been a long time, hadn’t it?  Anisai’s hair, like their own, was tinged with grey; and the lines on his face had deepened.  How long had it been since they had seen their old friend?  Had they even wondered at his absence?   Shame burned like acid in their belly.  No – they hadn’t.  They had thought he stayed away because… Because my ego wanted to believe he couldn’t bear to see me happy with another.  And once she was gone…

“I stopped at the house,” Anisai said quietly. 

The thunder above them growled again, the first droplets of rain beginning to patter down the foliage.

Bocquet’s shoulders drew up, like a turtle trying to pull into a shell.  They hadn’t cleaned since Seda and her Fakhri had left.  Why bother?  Their needs were few, their life… 

“You had no right,” They growled, defensive.  “Invading my home.”

“I care about you, jackass, and it doesn’t take a mind-healer to know you’re not in a good place.”  He took a deep breath, raking his fingers through his hair. 

“How is Seda?  Someone said she came through a few weeks back.”

Bocquet made a soft sound, deep in their throat.  How to explain that their girl no longer needed them?  That she had a good partnership, that Bocquet had noticed her grow restless toward the end of her visit, seen that the little cottage in the woods was too small for the brilliant fire that had been born there.

She would be fine; her man would care for her, and the spirit rat would guide her. They felt they should be happy - proud, even - that she had overcome so much to find happiness. But all they felt was empty and alone. So... incredibly alone.

See the full post

10 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Shower / Grooming

Wondrous Tails of FFXIV

2022.05.30

[Warning - Nudity]

Every Miqo’te had their own preferences in terms of personal grooming.  Some loved water and sought it out at every opportunity, others eschewed it as much as possible, fastidious about their tails and preferring to avoid getting them wet.

Seda fell somewhere in the middle.  She washed daily – one could not live in a hot, humid climate like Radz-at-Han without it; but she didn’t do the full body, scrub from ear-to-tail-to-toes but once a week, generally speaking. 

A normal day’s wash was a careful shower – rinsing her hair by flipping it forward over her head, washing her body, and then sponging the suds away.  Her tail stayed more or less dry, to be brushed out – and if she was going to be doing something particularly dirty, wrapped in a linen cloth.

As they grow more comfortable with one another, more often she’ll stretch out on the sofa or the bed and let Fakhri brush her hair or tail.  When she was young, her mother would brush her hair and tail each night before bed, and as an adult, she didn’t have anyone she felt comfortable allowing to have such an intimate connection.  Until now.

See the full post

13 notes - Posted May 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[twinklelilstarkey]

Cuddles - Mathew Barzal

Words: 2.7k+

Type: Fluff

Summary: Every time Mat comes back from a roadie, he becomes the clingiest person known to Earth, which means that he will do absolutely anything to get your attention and his god damn cuddles.

Warnings: PDA - just Mat being really touchy and stuff. There isn’t a mention on reader’s gender.

Mathew is not really the type of person that constantly seeks affection. He just likes his own space from time to time. Especially outside of the house, he’ll hold your hand but he’s not one to hug you out of nowhere, unlike some couples in your friend group.

But, that is only when he hasn’t been away from you for some time. If, for example, you two go spend the holidays with your families (separated), Mathew is not leaving your side when you’re back together. He absolutely will not let you go to do anything. 

So you better take the week off work, every time, you got a man to cuddle. 

And now that you two have been dating for a longer time, officially living under the same roof and doing everything like a whole married couple, Mathew’s seeking for affection after being away is through the roof. Like, he’s out for 2 weeks for a roadie, expect that men to hug you by the bus and never let go of you until you need to pee.

You believe that it might be because he now gets so used to seeing you everywhere in the house that when he leaves, he has that silence and that person missing. 

Yet, still, you never, in a million years, expected him to take his hugs so seriously.

And that is exactly what’s happening right now. He went out for a long roadie, which he can’t complain much because the Islanders won a lot and he had a great time with his friends, but, god damn it, he hated that he had to spend such a long time away from you and just staring at you through a screen.

He came back home late at night, around 4 in the morning, and even though you two felt exhausted - and you were half asleep - he still hugged you and stayed with his arms around you for a good 5 minutes. That is even without closing the front door when he came in.

And when you did reach the bed, you two fell asleep in just a few seconds.

You were able to wake up, naturally, early and Mathew looked so peaceful when you woke up that you tried your best not to move too much and wake him on accident. That man needs rest, and you seriously can’t take that away from him. 

So, you used your silent Sunday morning to the best of your ability, did a lengthy morning routine, just to have that moment with yourself in calm days: take a long relaxing shower, and even do a mask and test new products on your face.

You’re honestly living your best life.

And even after those good 40-50 minutes in the bathroom, Mathew is still asleep when you walk out. 

So, you decide to go have breakfast and probably, just if you’re feeling like it, clean the apartment - an activity you’ve been hesitating to do for days, but, sooner or later, you do have to do it.

And you, like the brave soul that you are, started working on it as soon as you can. Literally downed your coffee like a shot, ate a granola bar, and cleaning you went.

The living room and bathrooms were fairly easy and quick, but as soon as you started with the kitchen, a wild sleepy Mathew makes an appearance.

“Morning.” You say with a smile.

With his eyes still half-closed yet a grin on his face, Mathew walks over to you, slowly starting to open his arms. You put down the rag onto the counter and meet him halfway to wrap your arms around his torso. His arms wrap around your shoulders and squeeze you close.

He leans his cheek onto your head and you close your eyes, feeling and enjoying Mathew’s warmth through the thin shirt you’re wearing.

“How did you sleep?” You ask him.

“Good. I was so tired.” He says while letting out a sigh.

You squeeze him one time and move your head back to stare up at him. He looks down to meet your gaze and gives you a quick kiss, almost as if he’s stealing one.

“What do you want to do today?” He asks you, and you can’t help but hold in a cringe.

“I don’t know if we can do anything exciting today.” You tell him slowly.

“Why?” He asks with a confused frown.

“I have a lot to do today.” You start, “I have to finish cleaning the house, probably go grocery shopping and do my meals for the week.”

A loud and long groan leaves Matthew’s mouth as he throws his head back dramatically and you unwrap your arms from around him to hold his sides.

“I’m sorry.” You try to make it better with a soft tone. “Were you planning on doing anything?”

He brings his head back up and shakes his head.

“Just wanted to spend time with you.” He says before pulling you into a hug again, “And cuddle.” He says against your neck.

You wrap your arms around him again and run your hand up and down his back comfortingly.

“I’m still going to be at home. I just won’t be able to cuddle until I’m done with everything.” You tell him and he sighs dramatically. “You can always help me? So I’m done with all of this quicker.”

Mathew stays silent, still snuggled into your neck, and doesn’t even move a muscle.

Accepting his silence as an answer of ‘no, thank you’ or even ‘let me wake up first and I’ll answer you’, you try to move away from him, laying your hands by his sides again and pushing him away ever so slightly. But, right as Mathew feels the pressure of you pulling him away, he stops you by squeezing you a bit closer.

“Nooo.” He whines, making you laugh, “Just a few more seconds.”

(...)

Mathew, surprisingly, after his long morning shower and eating his breakfast (over the table you just cleaned), actually offered to help. He ignored your surprised look, looked at you, and just asked “what do you need me to do?”.

And off Mat went to clean your room and make the bed. You just finished off with the kitchen and swept some floors, and, honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever got everything done so quickly.

With Mathew still in the bedroom, you decide to start working on the list of groceries. Opening every cabinet and the fridge multiple times, you typed into your phone’s notes what is missing and what you’ll eventually need in a space of a few hours after cooking.

While deep into your task, you don’t notice Mat coming back from the bedroom with the full dirty laundry basket - mostly because he just emptied his travel bag and just changed the sheets. He walks through the kitchen to the laundry room and yet you don’t blink an eye in his direction. 

You are so focused that Mat is starting to think that someone could rob the apartment, right now, and you wouldn’t even notice them.

When the laundry is separated and some of it is already on the machine, which is already on, Mat walks back out to the kitchen and notices you typing on your phone.

“Do you want to go to get the food before lunch?” He asks you, in hopes you would answer him.

You just nod, while scrolling through the list to see if you didn’t repeat anything.

Mat stares at you for a bit, taking a second or two to admire you - something he was unable to do for a good few days. He takes a few steps closer, almost as if testing the waters, and stands right beside you.

He acts as if he’s checking the list you’re writing, and leans in close to you. You, still in your own world, pay him no mind and continue to type and check at least 3 times in the row if anything is missing on the list.

His arms sneakily wrap around your hips and he pulls you closer to him to the point of completely having you against him. He lays a kiss on the side of your head and looks down at your phone again, not wanting to disrupt you too much.

Your vacant hand lays over his arm, caressing it unconsciously as you delete a few words and type some new ones.

“Want to go to the store with me?” You ask him.

You look up at him as Mat doesn’t say anything and when your eyes meet, he gives you a quick nod. You smile at him and he kisses your cheek.

(...)

“You know...” You start while looking at the shelves down the aisle, “You’re making it really hard to walk, babe.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

You laugh at Mat and he smiles against your shoulder. He has been doing this every time the aisle you’re walking down is empty - which is almost every aisle. He has his arms around your waist and is holding you from behind close to him while you try to walk with the shopping cart right in front of you.

You don’t even know how many times you’ve tripped over each other’s feet, but Mat doesn’t seem to mind it at all.

You look down at your list and delete the name of another item as you throw it inside the cart.

“You look really beautiful today.” Mat says against your ear before pressing a kiss over the side of your head.

You look over at him and he leans his head back to look at you better, as well. A small grin lifts off the corners of your lips and he smiles before giving you a kiss.

As you two pull away, you turn your attention back to the aisle in front of you.

“Good to know I just look like that today.” You say to him in the most serious tone ever.

Mat giggles at your words beside your ear and soon your serious act lifts off. In your defense, it’s hard to do so when he’s that close to your ear, giggling his sanity away.

“You know what I mean.” He says while poking your side.

“You’re lucky I do.”

He smiles brightly and goes back to leaning his head over your shoulder. Good thing for him, the store is almost empty, so he can do that for most of the time you’re here.

You stop the cart once more and start, with the best of your ability, putting the things you need from the shelves into the center of the cart.

Soft humming is heard a few meters behind you, yet both you and Mat seem to ignore it. An old lady, with a little basket on her hand, walks down the aisle innocently, looking through the products on the shelves, and as she studies all the varieties, her eyes land on you.

Her view is quite interesting. You’re looking down at your phone, lifting your gaze to squint at what’s in front of you - what she assumes is the signs about each aisle - and a man, Mat, is with his dark hair mostly covered by his hoodie, even though some strands are falling to his forehead, hugging you close to him while peeking down at your phone.

If she wasn’t such a romantic person, she would’ve thought about and probably criticized - in her mind - how clingy you both looked. Yet she’s not one to turn her nose in disgust at such things, quite the opposite. She’s the one that smiles upon seeing them.

“Mat, can you pass me that bag?” She hears you ask the boy while giving him a pat on the head to get his attention.

He doesn’t verbally answer, but, right away, he stands upright and reaches up for the bag your pointing at the top of the shelves.

“Wait- Not that one.” You told him.

“Why not?” He frowns in confusion.

“It doesn’t look good.”

He gives you a look as if you’re going crazy and grabs your wished bag of sugar while listening to you giggle at his annoyance. When the bag reaches the center of the cart, he goes back to behind you and goes back to his warm, kind of, hiding place. 

And that’s when the lady decides to not stare for much longer, in hopes she wouldn’t spook anyone, and walks away to continue her shopping.

You, without even blinking at Mat’s actions, start moving forward out of the aisle and onto the next one. And that’s when your eyes land on the lady, who is walking by you now, at a way faster pace - you got to blame Mat for that one; you swear that a sloth moves faster than you two.

(...)

“Are you done, now?” Mat asks for probably the 100th time in the past hour.

You put down the rinsed pan on the washing machine and finally look back at Mat while closing it.

“Yes.”

“Really?” He asks with widened eyes, “Or are you joking?”

“I’m 100% serious.”

Mathew stands from the high chair of the island and walks over to you right away. He grabs onto your hand and starts pulling you towards the living room and couch, finally going after what he has been wishing all day long. His god damn cuddles.

You have been cooking for the past hour and some more minutes for your meals to eat during the week for work - a habit you’ve started having for a few months and can’t seem to not do it when there’s a big week incoming.

In other words, the restaurants around your work aren’t that great, you’re tired of sandwiches and you’ve been finding yourself too tired during the week to do lunch in the morning or on the night before. So, meal prepping, it is.

You and Mathew walk into the living room and he’s quick to snatch the largest blanket you had just folded this morning. He lets go of your hand before giving a look, almost as if to tell you, ‘don’t you dare move’.

You smile at him as he lays over the couch and motions you to come closer. He grabs onto the tv remote first, probably to get a movie going, just for background noise, and you lay with him.

Your face lays over Mat’s chest comfortably and you feel him shake the blanket around before draping it over the two of you. A little grin is planted over your face as he practically starts tucking you in, close to him.

As soon as the movie is chosen, Mat’s arms wrap around you and he pulls you even closer.

The both of you stare at the TV in silence. You’re just curious to see what movie he chose, while Mat just wants to see if the movie is any good. 

But then, suddenly, an uneasy feeling hits the end of your tummy.

Oh no, he’s going to absolutely hate you.

How are you even supposed to tell him this?

You try to focus on the screen and forget about all your needs. You just got to focus, Y/N, come on.

Not even five minutes later, you feel like you can’t hold it in anymore. Ugh, just do it.

“Hey, Mat?” You ask, tone a little hesitant.

“Yeah?” He asks, moving his hand up and down your back.

“I need to tell you something and, please, don’t be mad.”

Mathew frowns and looks away from the screen at you. He’s confused, you can tell. You can’t really blame him, you were just fine a few minutes ago, and now you sounded like you were about to unleash a bomb.

“Okay...?” He says almost as if to encourage you to talk, since you stayed very quiet.

“I might need to go pee.” You tell him.

His hand abruptly stops moving on your back and his expression of confusion falls into an expression of disbelief.

“Are you serious?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You say, biting your lips as if to keep in your giggles.

“How dare you?”

A giggle finally escapes your mouth and you notice his lips twitching slightly as he tries not to smile and continue his serious act.

“I’ll be right back, yeah?” You tell him as you start sitting up on your knees.

“Screw you.” He tells you and you laugh again.

You’re quick on standing back on your feet and make your way to the bathroom, very fast-paced.

“I love you too, Barzal!” You tell him as you walk out of the room.

Hope this is good!

[ivybucky]

dog tags and photographs - s.r. x fem!reader

Request from @moonstuffsteve : OK OK BUT CAN I REQUEST A STEVE FIC WHERE READER IS LIKE WASHING HIS UNIFORM AND FINDS A PICTURE OF HER IN THE SUIT AND GETS ALL HAPPY AND LIKE STEALS HIS DOGTAGS AND STEVE THINKS ITS THE CUTEST THING EVER THANK YOU

a/n: this was adorable and just so domestic so thank you Al! I’ve fallen into a nice little writing routine recently and ive been cranking these requests out like they’re NOTHING. as always, thanks for supporting my writing and fics i put out- i really want this blog to turn into something great, but i need to work on it a little bit more. 

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author: abby<3

words: 1385

cw: mention of stress, rough mission, domesticity, worry

Y/N smiled to herself as she listened to her boyfriend’s snores echoing through the apartment, something he swore he didn’t do. She had half a mind to record it, but the win wasn’t worth the fight.

She picked his uniform off the ground of the bedroom, shaking off whatever dust she could. His undershirt was thrown across the room next to the bed. She gathered it in her arms before looking towards his sleeping face. His hair had stuck to his forehead, sweat and dirt acting as an adhesive. Her nails picked at it, brushing it away from his face, before laying a sweet kiss to his forehead where his brows were drawn up with whatever dream he was having.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to wash Steve’s uniform. While he was definitely a gentleman, who would never make her do his laundry, Y/N took pride in doing this for him whenever he had a rough mission. He could sleep off the stress while you made sure he woke up to a stress and responsibility-free environment.

She huffed, walking towards the washer, making a mental reminder to set his combat boots out to dry the mud he tried to avoid tracking in. How many pockets does a combat suit need? You don’t see Nat with this many pockets. She knew how Steve was, how he had his own knives, and tools scattered between the fabric of his uniform. Opening every pocket was more of a chore than actually doing the washing, but it was part of the process.

Her hands brushed over soft paper, different from the usual metals that she found from extra bullets to blades. No, this was soft, pliable to her working fingers. She tugged the gently folded piece from his chest pocket. Curiosity grabbed a hold of her, urging her to unfold it and inspect it carefully. It was a photo of the two of them, when they had gone out for her birthday in the last month. He had pulled them to the park, stopping by her favorite store, and then taking a stroll. Y/N had convinced him to take pictures with the self timer on her polaroid, leading to him keeping the photo.

She hadn’t expected him to hold to it like this, folded neatly into the pocket of what he wore whenever he was away from her. She smiled, remembering how he had wrapped his arms around her that day, resting his chin at the juncture of her neck. Happy looked good on him.

She set the photo down in the basket she used to keep his things together, reminding herself to ask about it later. The washer rumbled slightly as the heavy fabric sloshed in the water.

“Sweetheart?” He called through the apartment, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hi sleepyhead,” she wrapped her arms around his middle. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. Where’s my-”

“In the wash, don’t worry about it.”

“Wait,” his back stiffened in panic. “Is it already running?”

“Baby, I said don’t worry I got everything out of the pockets.”

He paused again, cheeks going a little bit redder. “Everything?”

Y/N only smiled knowingly, reaching up to press a smile to his cheek. “Everything. Now what do you want for dinner?”

He smiled sheepishly, following her into the kitchen.

----

A couple of weeks had gone by and all Y/N felt was guilt. While she knew that she was caring enough in her relationship with Steve, she had sort of underestimated her importance to him. Important enough to carry a physical photograph in his uniform.

And while he obviously had held onto something of her while he was away, Y/N had yet to find something to bring her own self any kind of comfort. Most days spent alone while Steve was on a mission were spent trying to stay busy, to keep her mind off worrying. The missions where he couldn’t communicate were the worst. The only thing to keep her feet on the ground was their apartment. The way his scent lingers on the sheets, the small stack of drawing journals in the corner of their room, the record player sitting in the living room. While they were all things uniquely him, they weren’t close enough, needing to hold more meaning.

He was gone now, hundreds of miles away, doing what he did best - be a hero. Y/N’s knee bounced as she sat back on the couch, waiting for her boyfriend to return. He had sent a message hours ago, saying he was on his way back, saying not to wait up. She knew she would stay away as long as she could though, just to see him when he returned.

She tried to relax, wearing one of his large t-shirts and listening to a soft record as she waited. Time, however, was not kind and only continued to move slowly. With a sigh, she decided to do some chores, any chores that were left, to pass the time. That is when she saw them.

While Steve had amazing leadership skills, he was, in reality, quite forgetful when he wasn’t focused on doing his patriotic deeds. That’s why when Y/N moved to the bathroom to change out the towels and saw Steve’s dog tags on the counter, she paused. Thin metal was smooth through fingers, save for the imprints of his name and service numbers that her thumb ran over gently.

It was bittersweet, honestly - holding the thing that began Steve’s entire career, and not having him there to bring any kind of comfort. She pushed away whatever sadness remained, clutching the chain to her chest as she walked back to the living room. Without thinking too much about it, she slipped the necklace over her head, letting the tags hang just under her sternum.

Suddenly, she had something. Something with much more meaning than a scent, something tangible, something close enough. Her worried adrenaline left her body, and as she settled into the couch, she was able to fall asleep with ease for the first time since he had left.

--

Steve was almost worried when he entered the quiet apartment. His return was usually met with some kind of fanfare - a tight hug around his neck, a body scan for any injuries, an interrogation of his mental well-being. Tonight though, the apartment remained quiet as he shuffled through the threshold of the front door. His eyes swept over what he could see, finding nothing too out of place. Of course she cleaned. His ears, those genetically modified ears, however, picking up the slight snore, something she swore she didn’t do, of her sleeping form.

His feet carried him to the living room where she laid against the cushions, wrapped in his shirt, clutching his military tags in her hand. His shoulders dropped as he took in the sight, a new kind of relief hitting his body.

He crouched down, a dirty hand gently brushing the hair away from her forehead. “Y/N?”

“Mmm?” she mumbled, brows scrunching at the vibration of his voice. “Steve? You’re home.”

“Yeah, baby,” he smiled. “Want me to carry you to bed?”

Y/N rubbed her eyes as she nodded, tags falling from her fingers. He swept her up in his arms, thanking a god he had strength in his body. Her head rested against his chest, hand trailing over his heart. His mouth pressed a kiss to her forehead, adoring the sight before him.

“You wearing my tags?” he asked softly, not wanting to disturb whatever peace she still held onto.

“‘M sorry. Was missing you.”

“Shh, baby, don’t apologize.” He set her body down in the bed, pulling the sheets up over body. “You look better in them than I do.”

He left her to take a shower, but not before she called out for him, grabby hands sent in his direction. “Steve?”

“I’m coming right back, I just gotta wash off. I’m covered in sweat.”

“Don’t care. C’mere.”

He chuckled, slipping out of his uniform and saddling up next to her under the sheets. He kissed her head again, whispering words of love and comfort as she fell back into her slumber.

He had never been happier to fall asleep in his life.

forever tags: @avengers-do-it-better @maisondumepris​ @hamiltonwrite12​

steve and bucky tags: @fab-notfat​ @mcueveryday​ @nanners-the-great​ @mcubuckyandsteve @captainfile​ @moonstuffsteve​

steve only tags: @patzammit​

[jamesbuchananxsteviegrant]

She Who Shan’t Be Named - Part 3 | My Love (Loki x Reader)

Category: Smut (Mandatory) Age: 18+ Trigger Warnings: Explicit language, oral sex (female receiving), suggestive language, casual sexual actions, flirting with a lot of people Ship: Loki x Reader, (lowkey) Clint x Reader Summary: Tony lets his life-long friend crash at the Avengers HQ while she has nowhere else to go. What could go wrong with so many attractive individuals living in the same home? Word Count: 1.1k Masterlist: LINK

(hmu if you want adding to the tag-list for this series)

___

She’s always found peace when showering. It’s the only time when one is ever really truly alone. It’s peaceful. Relaxing. Well, unless you walk out your ensuite to see the God of Mischief laying on your bed uninvited.

A squeal escapes her lips at the unexpected presence in her room.

“What the fuck, Loki?!”

The man doesn’t say anything for a moment, merely smirks before holding up the skimpy red thong in his hand.

“You parade around in these?”

“Why? Would you prefer them in black? Or maybe green?” (Y/N) retorts, smirking at his quirked brow.

“You’ve got sass.” He observes, watching her dismiss his presence entirely as she removes the towel covering her body and drops it into her laundry basket. “And one hell of a body.”

“You should know that it’s rude to, not only trespass into a woman’s room, but also stare at her while she’s nude, Mister Laufeyson.”

Within seconds she jumps at the feeling of hands on her hips and the presence of a body behind her, crotch pressed up against her ass.

“You should know not to tease me, little girl.”

“Should I?” She pushes his buttons, interested in seeing where this will go.

Within a second, she’s suddenly being shoved down on her own bed, ass being pulled up into the air.

“Christ! Talk about no manners.” The woman complains, cutting off into a gasp as Loki’s mouth latches onto her core from behind. “Jesus Christ!”

“You talk too much.” The God grumbles against her pussy, grinning at how quickly she gets wet for him. “Especially for someone who gets this wet so easily.”

Any snarky response she was going to come out with is overridden by her moan as the man’s tongue invades her core once more.

“You taste heavenly, my love.” He murmurs, grinning at her whimpered response. “You seemed pretty cocky; where’s that facade gone now?” The man adds, again not waiting for an answer as he adds two fingers to the mix of his tongue.

The woman can barely respond. She’s normally the dominant one, yet here she is, face smothered into her own bedsheets as the God of Mischief forces his tongue and fingers inside her. She can’t say she’s complaining though.

“Bet you didn’t get this wet when you fucked Stark.” He grins, speeding up his actions as he feels the woman clench around him more and more with every movement.

“I never fucked Stark!” (Y/N) groans into the pillow.

“You’re a filthy liar as well as a filthy whore. Good to know.”

Another moan as she feels her core tightening more and more with every touch of the man behind her.

“I prefer the sound of you moaning over your sarcastic comments.” He chuckles. “Are you close, (Y/N)? Are you going to cum for me like a good little whore?”

“FUCK!” Is all the man gets in response, watching the way her hips move against his fingers in hopes to get her orgasm sooner.

“Scream my name, love. Tell me. Tell everyone in this compound who’s making you feel this good. Do it.” Loki demands, enjoying the blissed-out look on her face despite him barely even touching her. “Do it!”

“FUCK, LOKI!” She manages, hands clenching at the bedsheets. “FUCK, I’m gonna-”

“Louder.” The God demands.

“PLEASE! LOKI, PLEASE!”

“Please what?”

“LET ME CUM! PLEASE, GOD, LET ME CUM!”

“Good fucking girl. Cum for me, love. Cum all over my fingers.”

And she snaps. The euphoria being far too good. She could’ve sworn her eyes truly blacked out for a good few minutes as she rides out her high, Loki’s fingers not slowing down for a second.

Of course the God of Mischief knows how to work his fingers.

“Fuck.” Is all she can manage as her body collapses onto her bed, the man grinning and sitting up beside her, stroking the strands of wet hair out of her face.

“You alright, my love?” He grins, watching her blissed-out eyes look up at him and a dopey smile covers her lips.

She nods.

“That’s my girl.”

Her smile turns into a grin and her body shakes as she silently laughs.

“Your girl, hey?”

“I don’t doubt that you’re gonna be everyone’s girl by the time you’re done here.”

“You know me that well already, huh?” (Y/N) manages, watching her expression replicate onto Loki.

“Come on; let’s get you dressed.”

The man stands up and reaches his hand out to help the woman up, smirking as she stumbles on her feet a little.

“You’re not gonna just fuck off now?” She asks, quirking a brow as he helps her over to her dresser.

“I am a gentleman, you know, (Y/N). I’m not just gonna mess you up and leave you to clean up the mess. What do you take me for?” He teases, watching her grab a crop top and leggings from her drawers.

The woman merely shrugs but smiles.

“It’s nice. Thank you.”

The God helps the woman get dressed.

“So, how long do we have the pleasure of your company for, love?” The man asks, his voice not hinting at anything.

(Y/N) shrugs as she slides the leggings up her body, Loki retrieving her bra from the dresser.

“I dunno.”

“How come you’re staying with us, if you don’t mind me asking?” He adds, wanting to learn more about the little treasure that Stark has kept hidden for so long.

“I do mind, actually.”

They fall into silence, Loki almost surprised at her minor aggression.

“Have you known Stark long?”

“Since we were teenagers.”

He nods, almost scared to cross any lines. The truth is, he could read into her and learn all the answers, but he feels an overwhelming desire to not break the trust of this woman. He wants to protect her for some unbeknownst reason. He’s certain the others will feel the same way too.

“Well, we’re all lucky to have the luxury of meeting you.”

She smiles, awkwardly, but her sarcastic voice betrays her.

“Obviously..”

He laughs at that.

Once she’s dressed, the pair head out of her room and decide to go and grab some lunch. It’s merely unfortunate that Clint happens to be passing as they exit her room.

“Well, well, well. You don’t mess around, do you, Marian?” The archer teases, watching her grin and roll her eyes.

“You should be proud of me for lasting this long.” (Y/N) retorts, flashing a wink, Loki laughing at her answer.

“I don’t know if I’d say that, you didn’t last very long just then-” A punch to the God’s arm shuts him up, Clint bursting into laughter at the comment.

“I’m out. Enjoy lunch alone, Loki Laufeyson!” She calls, walking away from the two men who are still laughing.

“I shall, my love, don’t you worry!”

The pair watch her walk away, her middle finger up in the air at them both.

“She’s a treat.” Loki comments.

“She most certainly is.” Clint agrees.

---

Everything Tag List: @nosoulnoproblems | @rileyloves5 | @girl-who-loves-mythology | @avngrsinitiative | @lookinsidemyhead |@xbabykookiix | @myspectacularfantasies | @fanfic-anyone | @rororo06 | @queenofbuskers | @vapingisntmything | @tony-stank3 | @hermione-grangers-wife | @lili-ann-love | @the-omni-princess | @tayahs-blog | @regulus-black | @saturnsteverogers| @fyfiexo | @amazingiam00 | @deviltownn | @buckybarneses | @fafulous | roryshitposts | trynnabemultifandom | @moodboreddd | @hopingforbarnes | @an-adventureland | justassaneasiam-ll | @profoundllamanickeleggs | @xbongox | @minetticatinwonderland | @thinkaboutmara | @xxaestheticboyxx | @sparklycollectionofoldmemes | @wandaneedstherapy | @georgiadixon | @nerdy-thespian-10 | @nsb-supertrio | @thinkaboutmara | @captainamerica-is-bae | @spookyparadisesheep | @supernaturallover2002 | @notsochillnerd | @peggycarter-steverogers | @reann-shitposting |

[kareofbears]

plainly in truth, chapter 3/5

"Without you around, it's sorta like stuff is just kinda...bleh."

—

Or: hiding, confiding, and misguiding.

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

Ryuji grips the letter like it was silver and he was a werewolf in the full moon.

He picks it up, skims over the first line before putting it down beside him, feeling worse every time he does it, only able to read the fine-printed lettering from the flickering lamp post above him. The constant change in light would normally bug him, but he doesn’t really care about it now; it’s not like the words would change in his hand, and he’s long since needed to actually read it to know what it reads.

His feet dangle over the canal, enjoying the way a rush of adrenaline would go through him when he looks down into the deep waters. It’s late enough in the night that even with the city lights around him, he can’t gauge how deep it goes.

Soseikawa Park was only a five minute walk from Odori Park, but with the narrow river and steeped hills, Ryuji found it secluded enough to let himself sit. Breathe. Not exist, even for just a few minutes. It’s like having his own bedroom, except it smells faintly like a sewer and there’s an intersection about ten meters above where he sat underneath the overpass. If he can ignore the never-ending rumble of cars and trucks driving above him, it can almost be considered peaceful.

He lets himself fall back, the grass tickling the back of his neck and his spine screaming in relief. They’re heading out again in two days, which means more days of being in an inescapable RV surrounded by his best friends who are keeping an eye on him because they’re good people who don’t know how to mind their own fucking business.

Idly, he lets his hands pull and brings it to his face—blades of grass. He lets it get taken by the wind. After brief consideration, he shoves the letter back into his pocket before he can do the same thing to it.

He is so tired.

Blindly, he hits the vague area of where his pocket is and fishes out his phone, hitting the first speed dial before he can talk himself out of it. As two rings go by, he stupidly hopes that she doesn’t pick up, as if she hasn’t ever missed a phone call from him even when she’s at work.

The third ring gets cut off halfway through. “Ryu!”

Despite himself, he grins. “Hey, ma. Checking in for the weekly call.”

“I was just thinking about you,” she says, and he can hear the laundry machine run in the background. “I was wondering if you had eaten today.”

“Ma, you ain’t gotta worry about that kinda thing anymore. I’m a big boy now.”

“You’re breaking my heart!” He can almost see her, phone tucked in the crook of her neck, work-worn hands folding her laundry as fast as she can so as to not hold up the next person in line. “It doesn’t matter how big you are, you’re my boy. How can I not think about whether my boy is eating or not?”

“All I’ve done on this trip is eat, ma.”

“Oh, and Akira! How’s that handsome boy doing? Still taking the world by storm?”

That pulls a genuine laugh from him—he never needs to hold back when it comes to talking about Akira, at least. “You know it. He’s the only guy in the world who can stand toe-to-toe with me in chowing down. I swear, he’s slipping some of it under the table ‘cause he’s so damn fast. Forty seconds! Forty seconds to inhale an extra large beef bowl! Blows my mind, seriously.”

“Could never do anything in halves, can he?” she chuckles, before the quality of her voice shifts. “And are you enjoying yourself?”

He hesitates. “Yeah, of course. It’s a roadtrip across Japan, how can I not?”

“Good.” There’s some crackling over the receiver, and he guesses she’s probably adjusting the basket full of clothes on her hip. “That’s all I want to hear. As long as you’re happy, Ryu, I’m a happy old woman.”

Ryuji opens his mouth, ready to console her.

I’m always happy!

You worry too much, ma.

There’s nothing to worry about.

“Sorry, but,” he swallows thickly. “I think they’re calling for me? So—”

“Alright,” she says, and he might be imagining the disappointed tinge to it. “Call back when you can, okay sweetheart? I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he clears his throat. “I love you, ma.”

“I love you too, Ryu.”

He hangs up, letting the phone slip out of his fingers. It lands hard on the flat grass

For a long moment, he just lays there, listening to the gentle lapping waves and cars honking with impatience of people who have somewhere to be. He tries to meditate for half a minute, with all the information he had learned from a couple of YouTube videos, and gives up, because of course he does. Squeezing his eyes shut, he can’t do anything about the creeping dread that’s in his stomach getting stronger, squeezing and squeezing until he feels sick. It’s like his insecurities are having this huge fight against each other, feeding off of one another until it gets too big for him to handle and all he can do is breathe and try to do something about it.

And he’s fucking sick of it—breathing. He’s sick of the stupid breathing techniques, sick of counting down from ten and waiting for his own heart to chill out because his brain won’t stop reminding him of everything he did wrong, of shit he’s still doing wrong because at least this way, nobody knows what he did was wrong. It’s just him that can point and laugh at himself, and that’s way better than having the world do it for him.

He doesn’t cry, because he’s not a crier. He’s the type of guy to throw a fist through drywood before shedding a tear, and he hates that about himself. Rather than do something that will actually help, Ryuji lays there, perfectly still. Listening. Waiting for a meteor to fall on him, or for the overpass to crash its entire weight on top of him.

Instead, he hears footsteps.

His heart rate slows by a fraction, and opens his eyes to meet gray ones. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Akira says, a smile in his voice. “How did you know it was me?”

Ryuji almost feels offended. He would know Akira by sound alone, the way his heels would click in the Metaverse. The way the balls of his feet would strike the earth, hardly muffled by grass or cheap sneakers or anything else as trivial. Ryuji would know he was there; no matter how blind he was with hatred for himself, his love for Akira would always guide him back to where he needs to be.

“Lucky guess.”

“One hell of a guess.” He plops down onto the grass and Ryuji lifts his head, allowing Akira to wiggle until he could use his lap as a pillow. “Your turn,” Akira says.

“My turn to what?”

“To ask me how I knew where you were.”

“Oh.” He lets his eyes slide shut again. “I kinda just assumed you could do that.”

“You assume too much of me sometimes.”

“I assume the right amount.” Ryuji refuses to shiver when he feels long fingers start to card through his hair. “You’re giving me goosebumps,” he sighs.

“That’s a good thing, I think.” The fingers pull away and he’s about to complain when he feels something gets thrown over his torso. “Here. You always end up forgetting to wear an extra layer when you go out like this.”

Ryuji rearranges Akira’s jacket over himself. “Sap.”

“You know it.” He resumes combing through his hair, and Ryuji lets himself relax, just a little. It’s strange—it’s hard as hell being around other people nowadays, and even though Akira can make him feel that sometimes, mostly it helps the eternal twisting of his stomach to settle.

“You’re good at that,” Ryuji mutters.

“Thank you. I’ve had plenty of practice with Morgana.” And just to make it worse, he uses a little bit of nail on his nape, sending electricity running down all the way to his fingertips.

His mouth twists unhappily. “Don’t do shit like that while talking about the cat, for the love of god.”

Akira does it again, like the little shit he is. “You still have that weird thing with your neck?”

“Quit it!” Ryuji slaps his thigh and he can’t muster much anger when he can feel Akira’s shoulders shake from silent laughter. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“You’re right.” Gently, softly, like the world’s lightest feather, he feels lips brush his temple. “I’m funnier.”

His eyes open, and his entire vision is obscured by curly black hair and tender eyes. “You’re right,” he breathes. “You’re funnier.”

Akira bends down again, and Ryuji catches his lips, overflowing with something soft but unafraid, and it’s so good that Ryuji reaches for his cheek just to make it last a little bit longer.

When they break off, Akira kisses his temple again, this time on the left side. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Uh,” he scratches his head, brain a little fuzzy. “Tuesday?”

“It’s Wednesday, and I meant the date. It’s August tenth.”

“Okay?”

Akira thumbs at his collarbone. “I know this might be a little lame that I know it by heart, but I left Tokyo on March 19th. That would mean it’s been—”

“One hundred forty-four days since you moved away,” he finishes. “I know.”

Akira blinks, and then laughs, and Ryuji knows it’s an especially good one because sound actually comes out this time. “Yes,” he says, elated. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“I told you dude, we’re really on that telepathy shit.”

“We really are.” A pause. “I miss you.”

He’s about to joke—I’m right here, you big dummy—but find that he just can’t. “I miss you too.”

They can’t say what they mean: I will miss you. Summer vacation doesn’t last forever, and two months will always be a hell of a lot shorter than the rest of the ten months that they’ll be apart. Somehow, he dreads seeing Akira gone, and he’ll dread seeing Akira back in Tokyo because it would mean that he’d actually have to see what Ryuji’s really like. Actively pushing away his best friend just so he doesn’t have to see his failures; doesn’t that just make him the worst piece of shit in the world?

There’s a gap, though. A little loophole. A crack in the timeline. A place where maybe he’s allowed to be a hollowed out version of happy; the now.

“Tomorrow’s our last day in Sapporo?”

“Yeah?” Akira replies, surprised at the change in tone.

“Which means Jail stuff is done, right? All your grocery shopping and Sophia Prime’s been ordered and packed up?”

“Yes,” he says, a lilt in his voice. “It’s all done.”

Ryuji sits up and faces him, reaching for his wrists, relishing in the heartbeat thumping against his palms. “Let’s do something. I don’t care what, but let’s do something. Eat at a diner, go to a museum, rob a bank, whatever.” He runs his thumb along the veins there, long since those bumps have been ingrained in his brain. “Let’s do something, just you and me.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Sakamoto?” He has a cocky look in his eye, and Ryuji’s half-tempted to kiss him again just to wipe it clean off his face. “You know I’d follow you anywhere.”

He knows. That’s the scary part. Would Akira still follow someone he doesn’t know as well as he thinks he does? “I’ll get us lost,” he jokes.

Akira doesn’t laugh. “I’d rather be lost with you than learn to lose you.”

It’s been ages since he’s been flustered at anything Akira does, but he feels a rush of heat crawl up his neck. “I’ll—” Ryuji shakes his head, willing his embarrassment to go away. “Shit, uh—”

“I’ll pick where to go,” he interrupts, a little too smug for his liking. “I’d say I’ll pick you up at your place, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a comedian,” Ryuji rolls his eyes. “I’ll be ready whenever.”

“Fantastic.” Akira checks his phone, wincing. “It’s late.”

He grips his wrist tightly. “I know.”

Thankfully, he’s never needed to explain much to Akira. “Okay,” he says softly. “Ten more minutes?”

“Yeah.” He lets his eyes slide shut once more, letting out a breath. The world will keep spinning. His stomach will keep twisting. Time will keep marching on, but at least he has this. “Ten minutes sounds good.”

—

The first words that Futaba says as she enters the RV was: “Oh, hell.”

“Hello Futaba-chan, Yusuke-kun,” Haru greets cheerfully from the booth. “How was your shopping trip?”

“...Fine,” she replies, stepping aside to let him in, lugging a four-foot tall canvas in his arms that accidentally hits the ceiling. “Got a new Featherman action figure.”

“I got a canvas,” Yusuke answers from behind the wall of white. “Though I assume you can see that.”

“I can.” Her smile doesn’t falter, and it’s making the hair on Futaba’s nape rise like a nervous animal. “Quick question, since you both are here…”

Haru pulls a tote bag from underneath the table, and it’s so heavy that when she throws it on the table, her teacup nearly topples over. “Would you like to take a guess of what’s in this bag?”

A billion jokes pop into Futaba’s head, but both of them stay silent, terrified and confused. They both knew this was coming, but they didn’t expect her to be so forward about it.

“I suppose that’s a pretty strange question, I’m sorry. Let me try again.” She reaches in and pulls out thick, heavy textbooks, all brightly coloured and consist of beaming, diverse students on the front cover. “Care to tell me why you were both looking at cram books while we’re on our fun roadtrip?”

Yusuke pushes Futaba aside, eyes on the books and wide with shock. “You bought them?!” he exclaims.

“Wait—” Futaba hops repeatedly, trying to catch a glimpse from over his shoulder. “You bought all of them?”

“Of course.”

“But why?”

She thinks about it for a moment. “Hmm, think about it this way. If Akira’s in charge of the group as a whole, and Makoto’s in charge of the more analytical aspect of things, think of me as a somewhat stern yet loving parent who doesn’t quite know how to mind their own business.”

“I thought that was Ann’s job,” Futaba mutters, heart hammering in her chest.

“Now,” Haru leans forward, and as if to prove her role, speaks in a gentle tone. “I’m not mad at you. That would be ridiculous. But I saw you two looking at these books, and I know how expensive they can be, so I’ll give them to you.”

She blinks. “You would?”

“Absolutely!” Haru smiles wide. “On the condition that you tell me why you need them.”

Futaba and Yusuke exchange a glance, before Futaba makes a T with her hands. “Timeout!” she yells, dragging Yusuke by the collar out of the RV.

“What do we do?” he whispers once the door is shut. “It’s not as if we can tell her.”

“I don’t know, maybe we should?” she pushes up her glasses. “Damn, the things money can buy you. Our vow of silence is getting thrown out the window for two handfuls of yen.”

He looks her dead in the eyes. “I would tell the world my deepest secrets if it meant having lifetime access to a grocery store.”

“Don’t say that, you sellout!”

“I’m not selling out. My art already reveals the deepest portion of my soul, it’s not my fault that the common observers cannot pick up what I’m putting down.” He squints against the setting sun. “She’s waiting. What do we do?”

“Okay, okay, okay, just let me—” her mind whirrs rapidly, and for a second she really feels like Sophia. “Give me a second.”

“I have a suggestion,” he points at her. “If we’re not averse to lying, let’s tell them that you need them for school. You’re struggling with academics, you need a bit of outside help, so we took a look at the textbooks.”

“Good idea! Wait.” She frowns. “They’ll never buy it. Let’s say that you need them.”

“I’m at the top of my class!”

“But they don’t know that!” She balls her fists together, determined. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“I didn’t say yes to this.”

Futaba kicks the door open, making Haru pause wiping her spilt drink mid-stroke. “Inari’s struggling with his classes!”

“I—“ Yusuke stammers. “Yes,” he confirms. “I’m struggling with my classes. They’re mighty indeed, and even I find them difficult. I am...struggling.”

Haru looks at them doubtfully. “Yusuke is?”

“I am,” he answers as Futaba says, “He is.”

“Yusuke,” she repeats, gesturing to the neatly-stacked pile of textbooks on the table. “Is struggling with precalculus?”

They stare at her. “Yes,” Yusuke says, slowly. “I am struggling with previous calculus.”

“Out of curiosity, Yusuke,” Haru scratches her cheek. “Do you know what a parabola is?”

“Of course I do,” he replies with the wisdom of a thousand monks. “It’s a self-contradictory statement.”

“That’s a paradox,” Makoto corrects from the steering wheel.

“What the heck?” Futaba jumps a foot in the air. “Why are you here? Why were you hiding?”

“I like to sit here a few hours before we start another road trip,” she says, before glaring at them. “You two. Does this have to do with Ryuji?”

“T-timeout!”

Futaba makes a beeline to the door again, but Haru’s faster. She slips past them, standing in their way, perfect smile still in place. Sometimes Futaba forgets how strong she is in negotiations; her and Yusuke were probably tutorial levels compared to the upper management of Okumura Foods. “Answer her question, please.”

Yusuke sighs, tired. “You know what you’re asking for, don’t you? If we tell you what’s happening here, it would be breaking the trust of one of our teammates.”

“Yusuke!” Futaba hisses. “Are you really thinking about telling them? It’s not even our secret to tell.”

“No, it isn’t.” He makes eye contact with Makoto. “But she made a point. What would make us better friends: if we kept a secret to the grave while letting him suffer, or tell someone who can help even if it means being some sort of tattletale?”

“But…” she trails off, resolve crumbling. “Dude. It’s going to suck so much.”

“I know.” He pats her head, before moving to Ryuji’s backpack once more. “Don’t worry, I’m willing to take his anger if need be.” Yusuke gestures to the booth. “Everyone, take a seat. It’s about time this finally gets cleared up.”

Smoothing out the envelope in his hand, even more crumpled than when they had it last, he clears his throat, takes one last glance at Futaba to make sure. At her tentative nod, he begins to read its contents in a loud, clear voice.

When he finishes, they sit there, staring at the thick paper in silence.

“Oh my god,” Makoto breathes. “I knew it was bad, but—”

Haru shakes her head. “Not this bad. And he talked about it so much, but we didn’t even…” she glances down at the textbooks, idly rubbing its spine. “I didn’t think much of it.”

“None of us did,” Yusuke says. “But does that make it any better?”

They fall in silence again, but Futaba can hear the answer loud and clear. Hell no.

The door opens forcefully, pulling them out of their stupor.

“What’s up, my beloved friends!” Ann calls, shopping bags in tow. “God, I’m gonna miss Sapporo. Things here are so cheap compared to Tokyo, sheesh!” She sets them down, laughing when nobody says anything. “Jeez, what’s going on? Did I miss something?”

“Ann-chan,” Haru says carefully, all sense of cheer, for intimidation or otherwise, gone. “Take a seat. There’s something you should know.”

—

The Ferris wheel looms over them, blocking out most of the sunset behind it. “Nice,” Ryuji grins appreciatively. “I should’ve seen this one coming.”

“You should’ve,” Akira agrees, tugging him into the open carriage. He goes in willingly. “It was staring at you the whole time we’re in Sapporo. And besides, every romantic movie has a Ferris wheel scene, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yeah? Name one.”

“Death note.”

Ryuji makes a face, and Akira laughs. “Yeah, I know. Bad example.”

It’s a tight squeeze but they sit next to each other, ignoring the bench in front of them. The seats are hot, and even though it’s nearly evening, the heat barely eases up on them. Still, he finds himself pressing himself against Akira. He runs cold, much colder than Ryuji; narrow wrists are ice, prominent collarbones frost.

The two of them lean over the window, pointing out random scenery as if it were the first time they were seeing them. Restaurants, statues. Weird looking cars and flower beds. Decorated high rises and insects that fly by. It’s like they were tourists, or a retired couple who just want to travel the world. He’s never wanted to be old before, but Akira always has a way of making him change his mind.

Like clockwork—Ryuji makes a joke. Akira laughs. His heart feels lighter.

When he finds himself leaning against him, feet up on the bench, Akira wraps his arms around his shoulders unhesitatingly. Ryuji wonders if he can hear the way his heart thuds inside his bones. He wonders if he knows it's for him. The Ferris wheel stops, right at the very top, gently swaying like it were a giant cradle. They’re not very high up, but it’s far enough that he feels like he’s left the entire world behind.

Ryuji presses his lips against those wrists, relishing in the way he can feel the heartbeat increase. “You nervous?”

He can feel his head shake behind him. “I’m happy, I think,” Akira says in a hushed voice, like it was a secret, like it was a sin.

A breeze flows through, and Ryuji closes his eyes when lips press against just below his ear.

Would it be worth it to have a Palace? A Jail? Would it be worth it to lose himself, just to be in this moment for the rest of time?

Carefully, he flips himself sideways, just so he can press more of himself against Akira. The carriage rocks gently, and the metal bench underneath them is sharp and uncomfortable. Arms tighten around him. Chest to back, knee to knee, they couldn’t be closer, but Ryuji leans back, wanting nothing more than to bottle the rhythm of his breathing and the smell of his soap.

I’m happy, too, I think, he wants to say. If we stayed like this for the rest of our lives, until our skin is permanently tattooed into the hot steel and our bones are the only thing they take out of this bench because the rest of us had already rotted, then I’d be pretty damn happy.

Craning his neck backwards, Akira is already staring.

Then he’s kissing him—once, twice, again and again, and Ryuji realizes that something’s different. This wasn’t the kind of kiss he was used to. There was a desperate air to it, an urgent edge from both of them that neither was ready for. Stealing each other’s breath and giving it back; the cycle continues, the clock keeps ticking.

Ryuji pulls himself up, not breaking the kiss, cupping his cheek and soaking him in like a flower to the sun; an endless yearning, like he’d shrivel up and suffocate if it vanished. The sun framed Akira, and for a split second, he feels like he understands what Yusuke sees on a canvas.

When they part, foreheads leaning against each other, Ryuji lifts a trembling hand to wipe the tear that rolled down Akira’s cheek.

“What’s up?” he asks softly. “Is something wrong?”

“I feel like you’re a miracle, Ryuji.”

How do you respond to that? When the person who said it feels like they’re the one who’s magic, who’s too good to be true?

“Fuck miracles,” he says, pulling Akira in again.

—

The circuit felt like it ended too soon, but it’s night when they finally stepped off, holding hands and faces flushed. He hopes the ride operator doesn’t hate them, but he’s in too good of a mood to really complain.

Ryuji stops in his tracks when he sees who’s in front of them.

“Ann?” Akira questions, taken aback. Eyes dark and brows pulled close together, clutching her purse like a weapon of war—she looks like she’d just seen someone set an orphanage on fire.

Her voice is shockingly deep, gaze fixed on Ryuji. “I’m borrowing him for a second.”

Before either of them can say anything, Ann takes him by the bicep, and he can only glance at Akira before he’s dragged back into the Ferris wheel.

“Did you even pay—?”

“Don’t start,” she hisses, pushing him on the bench, hard. “Don’t you dare start, you damn liar.”

His blood runs cold. “What?”

No. That’s impossible.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” She shoves her hand in her bag and throws something rubber at him. “Do you know how long it took me to find a good one here? I spent my entire day in the shopping district—not looking for clothes, or shoes, or whatever the hell I thought would be fun. No, I spent our last day in Sapporo looking for that.”

Ryuji looks down at the hot compress in his hands, a lump in his throat.

“Because you weren’t doing anything to your knee,” she continues, jaw tight. “Despite me trying my best to help you get better. I thought that you must’ve been really fan-freaking-tastic at hiding the pain that you told me about. That I trusted was the truth because you’re one of my best friends and I trust you. I trust you with my life, my secrets—” Ann grits her teeth. “What the hell?”

“How did you find out?” he asks hoarsely.

She knows. If she knows, they could know. If they could know—

“Damn you, it doesn’t matter how I found out!” she throws her hands in the air, voice so hurt that it twists his insides impossibly tighter. “You think I would care? You think that this is important enough to lie to me about? Dammit, I don’t care that you—”

“Don’t say it,” he begs. “Please.”

“I don’t give a single shit that you failed second-year, Sakamoto!”

Her words ring against the steel walls, deafening.

Bile crawls up his esophagus, and he readies himself for another attack. But for some strange reason, his vision doesn’t blur. Instead, anger kicks in like it always does.

“You don’t care?” he asks, incredulous. “This doesn’t even have anything to do with you!”

“It does when you lie to me about it!” she yells back. “Do you not care about me? About your friends who would go to hell and back for you?”

“How dare you—!”

“You lied to me, you hid it from everyone else, you ignored our advice because it doesn’t mean shit to you.” She points a finger at him. “And look where that got you.”

“Shut up.”

“We all noticed, you know! Each and every one of us noticed that something was up, even the literal robot—”

“Shut the hell up, Ann.”

“And for what? All you accomplished was hurt our feelings, hold in yours, and keep it from the love of your life—”

Ryuji stands up, rocking the carriage and nearly toppling Ann off her feet.

“It’s because I fucking hate myself!”

She grips the barred window, eyes wide. They stare each other down for a few long moments, before the ride comes to an abrupt end. The door swings open, allowing a cheery greeting from the oblivious employee.

And then Ann sighs, shoulders deflating. “Come on,” she jerks her head to the door, before stepping out herself. “Let’s go.”

“What?” he asks, puzzled. “Where?”

“If we’re going to delve into the psyche of Sakamoto Ryuji, we might as well do it with some food in front of us.”

—

The cafe Ann takes him to is bright, filled with pastries and crowded with people—stools are pastel blue, baristas are wearing cute bowties, and each cup of coffee comes with an alarming amount of whipped cream on top. Sojiro would have a heart attack if he walked three kilometers of this place, but Ryuji’s glad that the resemblance is far and away than that of Leblanc.

The booth is pressed into the corner of it all; up against the window and far enough from the main bustle that they’d have to really put their all into it if they wanted to take their order. On one side sat Futaba, nervously tracing shapes on the window while Haru sits beside her. The opposite end has Yusuke and Makoto.

They all look up when they hear the bell chime, and Ryuji almost laughs. “It’s been a long ass time since I’ve seen you guys look so serious,” he remarks, sliding next to Makoto while Ann sits next to Haru. “Where’s the food at? Come on guys, food’s good for you.”

He raises a hand. “Excuse me! We’re ready!”

“Ryuji,” Futaba’s voice is brittle. “I—”

“Hold on shorty,” he reaches to pat her head, voice coming out soft. “We’ll get to that. I promise.”

A waiter comes, takes their drink order, and leaves. When he does, Yusuke places a heavy hand on the table. “I was the one who told everyone.”

“That’s not true!” Futaba cries out, and everyone jerks back in shock. “That’s bull! I’m the one who told him to go through your stuff ‘cause he was worried about you, but I’m the one who actually—”

“No, I’m the one at fault here,” Haru casts her gaze downwards. “It was really none of my business, but I forced these two to tell everyone here. I’m so sorry—”

Ryuji sighs. “Guys, it’s fine.” He’s met with an incredulous look. “Okay, it isn’t, but none of this is your fault, you know? I’m not mad.” His gaze shifts to Ann. “But you’re allowed to be mad at me. I know I shouldn’t have hidden it.”

She gives him a weighted look. “Then why did you do it?”

“Ann,” Makoto warns.

“No, I’m not budging on this.” She leans forward. “He lied to me. Lying doesn’t get you anywhere good. That was really stupid of you.”

“Ann!” Futaba cuts in, horrified.

“You’ve seen what happened with Shiho.” Ryuji flinches back like he’s been hit. He knows. Ann knows he knows. But she keeps going anyway. “She lied to me about what was happening, and I lied to her back. It kept going and going, and—” she snaps her fingers. “She’s gone from my life. For how long? I don’t know, maybe until we graduate. Maybe until her rehab ends. Maybe longer. Who knows? All I know is if we had just—talked, or—” Ann shakes her head, frustrated. “From the start. Tell us what happened. And afterwards, let us help you, or I swear to god I’m going to cry, and I know you can’t stand it when people cry.”

The silence is deafening, even with the clamor of people and voices around them.

Ryuji lets out a breath. “Yeah, alright.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You will?”

“I will,” he repeats, idly checking his pulse. Heart rate is a little quick, but in no danger of having another breakdown. “I’ll tell you everything.”

The waiter chooses that time to drop off their drinks; all cold except Haru, nursing a hot cup of tea. They definitely didn’t buy enough to justify the god-knows-how-long they’re going to spend here, but they’re just gonna have to suck it up.

“Alright,” he starts when they’re alone again. “We going from the start?”

“The very beginning,” Ann confirms.

With one last glance at his friends, he sighs, sits up straight, and flashes them the biggest grin he can muster:

“Hi,” he greets. “I’m Sakamoto Ryuji, and I failed my second-year of high school.”

No one’s expression shifts, not even an inch. He can’t help but be a little impressed. “You guys know that I’ve never been the greatest with books. Shit, screw greatest—I’ve ranked bottom five ever since I started middle school. Didn’t help that my leg got fucked to high heaven and everyone started hating me. Nearly dropped out a couple times. Had no one, really. Worst time in my life, hands down.

“So imagine this dumb little kid, middle of April, running into this guy.” Without meaning to, the grin shifts into something more genuine. “Good-looking dude, super smart, real charmer but you wouldn’t be able to tell just by lookin’ at him. And that guy saved my life. Ten, twenty, thirty times over. He was so great that the dumb kid obviously fell in love with him. But what’s even crazier is that the guy fell in love with the dumb little kid, too.

“Crazy, right? Sounds made up, but I promise it’s true.” He catches Futaba’s expression shift to exasperation. “I know, I can’t believe it either.”

“That’s not what I meant, you sap,” she says.

“Yeah, but that dumb little kid,” he explains. “Couldn’t believe it. Literally couldn’t believe it. Thinks that he struck the lottery, struck by damn lightning. I mean—” Ryuji laughs a little. “How can someone so amazing and cool be in love with such a moron? What made it worse…”

He gestures at all of them. “Was that the guy had so many people in his life who was also amazing. His social circle was made up of, and correct me if I’m wrong: a successful journalist, a politician, some dude from the mob, a random child who breaks gaming records on the daily, and I’m not even counting people from this goddamn table. So dumb little kid knows, he fucking knows that somehow, someway, he tricked the cool guy into falling in love with him. The kid sucked, no, sucks,” he corrects. “At everything. Can’t do anything worthwhile.”

“Ryuji…” Haru whispers.

“Almost done, I know it’s running on kinda long,” he promises. “So the dumb little kid became kinda obsessed with the group’s ‘activities’, and it’s obvious why he would, right? If he knows he’s not good enough for the guy he’s in love with, then he can at least try to be. But since he already sucked at school to begin with, dummy over here completely bailed on school and ended up flunking so bad that he failed an entire year.”

An entire year. An entire year.

It’s becoming harder and harder to breathe, but he’d rather get hit by a truck than lose it in front of so many people. Gritting his teeth, he does what he knows is bad, what every google search and YouTube video says you should not do—he pushes his feelings, far and hard away from himself, so far that it’s like it doesn’t even exist.

It works surprisingly well.

“And, uh—” Ryuji clears his throat. “He hid it. Because you know the one, single thing that’s worse than realizing you’re not good enough for the other person?”

No one answers. “Waiting for the day that they realize that you’re not good enough for them.”

“And that’s pretty much the bulk of it.” Reaching for his mug, he takes a sip of his lukewarm lemonade. Damn, he really did talk for a while. “I didn’t want to tell the rest of you because one, it’s really fucking embarrassing that I failed, and two—”

“Akira can’t know,” they all say in unison.

“Exactly, you guys get the point by now.” He drums his fingers against the table, trying to ignore the blatant gloom cast on all of their faces. “Question time starts now, if anyone wants to ask anything.”

Makoto opens her mouth, but he beats her to it. “If anyone even thinks about feeling pity, or be all ‘no, you’re smart actually!’, I am walking out of this cafe and I am not looking back.”

“What about summer school?” Makoto asks immediately. “If you didn’t want us to know, then you could’ve taken that without even telling us.”

“Summer school was never an option.”

“And why not?” she slaps her hand against the table. “It would’ve solved this entire situation!”

“Because Akira was coming home for the summer,” he says simply. “And I wanted to enjoy my time with him without this hanging over my head.”

Her jaw drops open. “But...that’s…”

“Stupid?” he offers. “Idiotic? Really dumb? Potentially throwing away my entire future? Yeah, I gotcha. Another part of it was that the thought of staying at Shujin for another minute makes me want to jump into traffic, if that helps make me look a little better in your mind, miss prez.”

Makoto’s expression of confusion freezes, taken aback by the harshness of his words. Ryuji cringes at himself. “Sorry.”

“No,” she says finally. “The fault is mine. I have no right to judge your actions, or to pretend I know what kind of stress is burdening you.” Hesitating, she asks, “May I request another question?”

“Shoot.”

“What were you going to do when we eventually go back to Tokyo?”

As expected of someone who went head-to-head against the ace detective in front of the entire school; her questions are brutal. “I don’t know, honestly. I was planning on ignoring the problem for now and just sort of,” he gestures vaguely. “Enjoy the summertime sun?”

“A moment,” Haru goes through her bag. “It’s a long story, but I have these—”

The second the books peek out of her tote, he recognizes the cover immediately. “Cram books? You bought some?”

“Yes!” she answers, mistaking his reaction for eagerness. “It’s a very small gesture, but I’d love for you to have them.”

“I—” he leans away from them, breath catching in his throat. “No.”

“No?” she blinks.

“Not now, senpai.” Trying out his new trick again, he forces his heart to slow down, forces his breathing to regulate again without any of the techniques, and forces himself not to feel any of the fear that he’d normally have to go through. It works, but barely. “I’m not—I don’t think I’m ready to deal with that yet.”

“That’s fine.” Haru puts them away, and as hard as he tries, he can still see how dejected she was. “I’ll hold on to them for you.”

“Thank you.” He glances around. “Any last takers? Q&A is almost up.”

“I have one,” Yusuke pipes up.

“Go for it.”

“How are you?” he asks genuinely.

Ryuji can’t help it—a laugh gets pulled out of him. “How am I?” he repeats.

“Yes. How are you?”

“Uh,” he laughs again. “Not good, man. Not good.”

Everyone startles when Ryuji stands abruptly. He slams down the rest of his lemonade, relieved at how it helps his parched throat. “Alrighty, that took a lot out of me! Let’s get out of here, I’m sick of being surrounded by fake coffee and poser cafe fanatics.”

“I’ll take care of the bill,” Haru says, following his lead and scooting out from the booth.

“What? No, come on. I don’t care how rich you are, at least let me pay half.”

“Ryuji.” She looks him dead in the eye. “I’ll take care of the bill.”

“...Yes ma’am.”

Slowly, they all start filing out, some exiting the cafe while Makoto goes to the till with Haru. Ryuji reaches for Ann’s elbow before she can leave. “Hey.”

Turning her head, it’s as if her lips were permanently stitched downwards. “Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry I lied to you,” he says, somber. “That was shitty, and it doesn’t matter what I’m going through—you can’t deal with lies. I get that. I won’t put you through that again.”

Ann kisses her palm before slapping it against his forehead. “You better not,” her voice drips in affection. “You said not to console you—”

“I did, and I meant it.”

“But I’m here for you,” she rubs his skin harder, and he winces at the chafing. “You know that, right? No matter how crazy the shit inside your head gets, I want you to talk to me.”

“I know it,” he says, not just because he wants the friction to ease up. “I know it now, for sure.”

“Good.” Ann releases him, and goes to join Haru and Makoto up front. “You might want to head out. Someone’s starting to make a fuss.”

“What?” he turns around, making direct eye contact with Futaba, nursing a blank expression on her face. “I see.”

The bell chimes once more when he steps out, relieved at the cool summer air that hits him. “Shorty,” he says in lieu of a greeting. “What’s good?”

“Here.” Ryuji glances down at her, who’s holding a familiar, now very-crumpled envelope between her fingers. It’s weird seeing her hold the letter announcing his failure like a bomb, but he understands the sentiment. “I had to show Ann because she wouldn’t believe me until I got some proof.”

“Thank you,” he says, shoving it in his pocket. “I’m not mad at you, you know.”

“I know you’re not.” She swallows and stares down at her shoes. Her laces were covered in little beads and stars, something he had bought for her during a weekend hangout once. “This isn’t me pitying you, or showering you with some kind of boohoo potion.”

She swallows again. “I failed my first year of high school. It was for a completely different reason—guilt for who I thought I killed rather than wanting to be something else. But I know. I know so much about what you’re going through.”

Futaba looks up, and his heart wrenches when he sees the tears in her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry if I made you sad, or that I kept calling you stupid back then,” she sobs. “I don’t mean it, and I’m so mean to you all of the time but I don’t mean any of it. I told everyone your secret because I wanted to—” she hiccups, and she pushes her glasses to the top of her head. “I wanted to give you your own version of what the Phantom Thieves did for me, but I reached out to you guys back then. No one forced me to do anything, but I took that choice away from you.”

He pulls her in his arms, and her tears are hot even through his shirt. “I know, Futaba,” he says, patting her head. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

She hits his chest weakly. “Me taking care of you?” she sniffs. “I’m literally the one crying right now.”

“Just for now though,” he shrugs. “Next time I cry, you’ll be the one handing me tissues, I swear.”

They stand there, the two of them standing in the middle of Sapporo while people give them weird looks—Futaba, unable to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks, and Ryuji, refusing to ever let his emotions make things worse for everyone else again.

—

When they get back to the RV, each of them emotionally exhausted, Ryuji goes to kiss the top of Akira’s head. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Akira looks up from his card game with Morgana and Sophia. “You look like you had a wild night. Ann take you all somewhere fun?”

“Totally,” he says, sliding the letter back in his backpack. “Best night ever.”

“Take me next time. Sophia’s kicking our ass.”

“She is not!” Morgana denies, tail swishing. “Just a little,” he relents.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” Ryuji announces, hiking his backpack on his shoulders and heading out, before running into Ann outside.

“Oh my god,” she says, disturbed. “He really, really doesn’t know.”

“Yup,” he moves past her. “And we’re keeping it that way.”

[alwaysforjackandsam]

Rules to Sock Sorting: A Love Story

Quick one shot Jack and Sam fic, pure domesticated Fluff!

AO3: Rules to Sock Sorting: A Love Story

As the years added up, team nights became less scheduled; less invitation offered, invitation accepted and became more need based for each of them. If one needed comfort, then one or more would just show up at their house, food and drink in hand, no questions asked. This is how it came to be that Jack and Sam spent much of their downtime together, their need for comfort wasn’t always about the latest mission but the discomfort of being apart on opposite sides of the same town.

So, this is why, at 3 pm on a Thursday afternoon in early-November, Sam wasn’t surprised to see Jack on the other side of her door, plastic grocery sack in one hand and 6 pack of beer in the other.

“Hello, sir. What brings you over today?” Her grin is knowing as she steps aside to let him in.

“I know you, Carter. The first day of downtime always puts you on edge. Thought I could make some dinner and watch the game with you.” He winks.

Sam grins wider and moves towards the kitchen. “Never let it be said Jack O’Neill doesn’t take care of his team, she says over her shoulder, heart beating in her chest as he smiles back at her.

They cook, movements in sync, as they move about the kitchen; a dance practiced so often, in the field and off, that it’s now second nature.

Sam finishes wiping the counter and goes to put the lasagna in the oven. Jack has taken two beers out of the fridge and heads to the living room to turn on the TV. Sam looks in his direction, as she sets the timer and she stills. Jack has turned on the TV and the intros of the Hockey game play quietly in the background. The beers he brought in with him sit on the coffee table as Jack stands between the table and the sofa. Sam’s heart swells in a way she wasn’t aware it was capable of anymore.

She shakes her head and grins, wondering to herself how she could still be taken off guard by the feeling, it wasn’t quite nostalgia, not really pining but an easiness that stole her breath away when she looked at him. “Him” was a strange one too, that word was so lacking as a way to describe HIM, her Jack. General Jack O’Neill was so many things to her and over the years the things seemed to pile up, all important and significant in their own way.

She had forgotten about the basket of laundry she left on the sofa when Jack had knocked on her door and now Jack was standing in her living room, absently folding her towels, while watching the pregame on TV.

It hit her that today was the day. If you asked her tomorrow what flipped the switch, she wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact moment but having Jack in her house, comfortable and relaxed, cooking dinner and folding clothes, it just seemed like the right time.

Running her palms down the front of her jeans, Lt. Colonel Doctor Samantha Carter, killer of Goa’uld, saver of the world, walked into the living room with one goal in mind and it was one General Johnathan ‘Jack’ O’Neill.

Jack’s attention was split between the TV and the pile of unmatched socks at the bottom of Sam’s laundry basket when he felt her hand on his arm. Unfazed and still picking through the socks, Jack motioned his head in the direction of the beers on the table.

“Open those beers, Carter. Matching your socks is worse than sorting out that ancient crap that got downloaded in my head, TWICE!” He instantly realized Sam hadn’t moved, as was her usual instinct when he made a request and feeling the hand on his arm tremble, he looks up to find a misty-eyed Sam Carter.

“Sam?” The question formed as her name.

“Jack.” The answer, though her voice quivered slightly, was resolute. As final as any decision she had made before.

“Hey, if this is about the sock joke, really Carter it’s none of my business if you can’t handle cotton footwear.” He babbled noticing the blue of her eyes and her determined gaze never leaving his. “You know blowing up a sun, saving the earth multiple times and well saving MY ass multiple times certainly gives you a pass on sock maintenan…”

Jack words were cut off by Sam’s lips pressing into his. The hand on his arm pulled him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the couch and Sam pushed his shoulder until he sat hard onto the sofa.

Jack’s eyes are wide as he tries to push himself up only to be met with Sam’s legs pressing to either side of his thighs.

“Carter, um, Sa...” His words were swallowed by Sam’s insistent mouth. She’s kissing him with less force but more determination, her teeth nipping his bottom lips in an effort to gain access to his mouth. Jack kisses her back, his tongue chasing hers in a fevered race to explore but his hands go to her hips, squeezing tight to keep her body from sinking further onto his lap. One of Sam’s hands moves from his shoulder to scrape the hair at the nape of his neck, causing Jack to groan, while her other cups the side of his head. She runs her fingers over his ear and down the side of his neck, her thumb edging along his jaw before her palm comes to rest on his chest just below the hollow of his throat. She pulls her lips from his but doesn’t move away. Sam rests her forehead against his and tries to catch her breath, Jack’s pulse thudding rapidly under her palm.

Still stunned, Jack tries to form words but only succeeds in saying “Wow, I…um, yeah” Jack swallows and takes his hands from her hips to place them on each side of her face. He tilts her head back to look into her eyes. As people go, Sam is unique in many ways but it is her determination that sets her apart in his mind. When Samantha Carter sets her mind to something it was a foregone conclusion, so the look Jack sees in her eyes tells him she has made some sort of decision.

“Want to fill me in, Sam” He felt after the last 5 minutes, Sam was the most appropriate moniker.

“I love you.” She blurts out. Her eyes close and she takes in a shaky breath. Jack doesn’t speak but does let his hand slide down to her arm to help steady her trembling, a flustered yet determined Carter was a thing of beauty. Sam continues, “No, that’s not right, I mean it is but...” She opens her eyes and looks into his, her brow pinched in concentration.

Jack freezes, deciding in that second, that Carter had come to her senses and is about to get up from his lap, pushing him and his half-cooked lasagna out the door.

The sheer panic that crosses Jack’s face causes Sam to smile and rub her hand against his chest.

“Of course, I love you,” she waves the hand resting at the back of his neck in a gesture akin to old news, because it was true. No four people on this earth or several other galaxies, for that matter, love each other the way SG-1 did, “but what I meant is to say is, I’m in love with you.”

Jack clears his throat and moves his hands to her waist, “In that case Sam, I think it’s high time I taught you the O’Neill Rules of Sock Sorting. Mind you this particular skill can only be shared with a certain person. One held in the highest regard, one of high rank and stature.” He leans in and places a sloppy kiss to the side of her neck.

Sam giggles. “Carter, no giggling,” he admonished, gripping lower on her hips and pulling her forward on his lap at the same time. A small moan replaces the giggles and Sam once again lays her forehead against his.

A peace falls over them and Sam slowly rubs her hand over Jack’s rapidly beating heart before she leans in to kiss him again.

As they break for air, Sam contemplates his earlier words about the O’Neill sock rule and asks. “Just how do you decide who is worthy of this O’Neill sock sorting knowledge?” Adding her best impression of Teal’c’s eyebrow raise.

Jack looks into her eyes and grips her hips just before he flips her over on the couch. He adjusts so he is now resting on his knees between her legs, hands braced on either side of her head. Sam’s breath catches in her throat as Jack leans down to place another kiss to her throat, his tongue sliding up to caress the spot just behind her ear, before whispering “buy one color”.

Sam’s laugh rings out through the room and Jack can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face before silencing her laugh with a kiss, his body pressing onto hers.

If Jack O’Neill had to pick the day Sam Carter confessed her love for him, this wouldn’t have made the top 10 but he didn’t care. The lasagna burned and Daniel commented on her mismatched socks at least twice that week but it was theirs and it was perfect.

So to this day, Samantha Carter-O’Neill only wears pale blue socks, except on November 5th. That day is now marked as Mis-matched Sock Day, which Jack O’Neill has since dubbed the day his wife cannot leave the house or more correctly their bed until she has property atoned for breaking the certain special O’Neill Rules of Sock Sorting. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[shadow-assassin-blix]

A Picture is a Poem without Words

CHAPTER 8

Fluff. Some Smut/alludes to smut. But lots of Fluff. To make up for the trauma of the previous chapter. Dress is the 4th one found here

“Spanish” as always.

Everything tag: @mikeisthricedeceased​

Diego brought her home and she practically ran to him, when Navegante told her he was outside. She took him in once she spotted him, standing there looking out over the grounds. He was wearing bright yellow pants, a white button up shirt that appeared slightly see-through and a brown jacket over it.

She walked toward him, as he turned to look at her. As soon as she was in front of him, she slapped his arm.

The loud ow in response was satisfying.

“You weren’t going to tell me you had been shot at?” She demanded.

“I told Diego not to tell you because I didn’t want to worry you,” Pacho explained rubbing his arm slightly.

“No. You don’t…. you don’t get to decide that. If something had happened to you,” Her voice trailed off, as she felt tears begin to form in her eyes.

Pacho slowly pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She grasped the lapels of his jacket firmly in her hands and tried to take a deep breath to calm herself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” He whispered to her.

She took a moment to gather herself and turned her head up to look at him.

“No more secrets… I’m all in,” She whispered to him.

He straightened up, staring at her seriously.

“You realize what that means? Do not say that if you are not aware of the repercussions of this. I want you by my side, but only if you are fully aware what that entails,” Pacho stated clearly, looking at her closely.

“I know. I realize that. If you need me to, I will say it again in the morning. But I doubt my statement will change. I… I realized while in Bogota, that I all I could think about was getting back here. To you. Nothing else really mattered,” She murmured looking him in the eyes, calmly.

His smile was small as he spoke, “Is that so?”

She hummed in response, pressing a kiss to his chest, before standing on her toes to kiss his lips. He kissed back, softly cupping her face with both hands. The kiss lasted a few minutes and was sweet but passionate.

When she pulled away, taking in a breath as she eased back down to her feet.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?” She mentioned as a yawn moved through her.

Pacho and her walked upstairs to his room, and they quietly got ready for bed. She stole another of his shirts and silently watched him dress down. He was very meticulous in his movements. His accessories all had a particular place that they returned to. His belt and shoes in the closet, his rings and watch on the dresser, and his clothes went into laundry baskets that were separated by darks, whites, and dry clean. It was an intriguing process to watch.

Once he was down to his boxers, he turned to look at her and smiled somewhat sheepishly when he realized she had been watching him the entire time.

“Yes?” He questioned.

“Sorry. It’s kinda adorable to watch you get ready for bed. It’s almost as endearing as watching you get dressed. I am not…. That focused. I don’t…. even think… I’ve ever separated clothes…,” She admitted somewhat awkwardly.

He moved toward her, standing in front of her, with a small smirk. He leaned down and pulled her into a deep kiss, which led to her slowly falling back onto the bed, his body covering hers.

They made out for several minutes, just enjoying the feel of one another; switching from slow and soft to fast and passionate.

His hand began to unbutton the shirt she wore, pushing it off to the side to further expose her.

“I vaguely recall… promising you that I would ravish you upon your return?” Pacho groaned as he stared down at her.

“Hmm. Yes. I recall something like that being said,” Blix replied with a smile as she kissed him a few more times.

They somehow slipped under the covers, as they undressed each other. His movements were slow and purposeful, making sure she felt every thrust, kiss, and bite. It was well into the morning hours by the time they stopped, and Pacho had made sure she was mush.

They fell asleep, limbs tangled with one another.

It was late morning by the time they had begun to stir.

Pacho had roused first and took a moment to quietly admire her. It was while he was doing this that Diego, lightly knocked on the door frame, announcing his presence.

“Hey, Gilberto and Miguel are waiting for you. Plus… apparently the wives want to take Blix out to brunch? Might want to get up soon,” Diego suggested with a shake of his head, as he watched Blix, who was waking up, groan and hide into the pillows.

Pacho nodded his head, chuckling at Blix’s behavior. He kissed her back and shoulders, trying to encourage her to awaken further.

“Lovely. Time to get up,” He whispered pulling the pillow away from her.

She groaned loudly in protest, her hands trying to find the pillow again to take it back. When she couldn’t she lifted her head with a frown.

She turned toward Pacho sleepily, and muttered, “Why must I wake?”

“You apparently have plans,” He told her brushing her hair out of her face.

“Nooo. Why? Why plans?” She protested childishly grabbing the covers and hiding under them.

Both men laughed at her and Pacho got up, tugging her into following him. He led her toward the bathroom, and they took a shower together. It took her a moment to fully wake up as the hot water washed over them. They cleaned themselves up and relaxed.

When they stepped out, there was a dress waiting for her. She admired the gradient coloring from blue to orange, thinking it was very pretty. There was no bra but there was a pair of underwear waiting for her.

“Do you two…enjoy dressing me or something?” Blix asked as she looked over shoulder at Pacho.

“It is quite fun to be honest. Does it bother you?” Pacho asked poking his head out from his closet.

“No. But I do know how to choose my own outfits, I just wanted that noted. I love ya both, but I don’t need you to do this constantly,” She mentioned with a small smile.

He nodded his head in understanding and returned to getting dressed.

She got dressed in the outfit presented, slipping on the heels before stepping back into the bathroom to brush out her hair. She noted softly that there was a third toothbrush waiting for her to use. She brushed her teeth, before putting on a bit of makeup.

When she was done, she made her way toward her bedroom for one thing in particular. She had left her shark necklace on her dresser for safe keeping; didn’t want anyone to question it while she was in Bogota. She clipped it on and admired it for a moment in the mirror before heading downstairs.

As she stepped into the living room, she saw all 3 of Gilberto’s wives and Miguel’s wife, standing there waiting for her with Marta.

“Hello. What’s all this?” Blix greeted wondering why they were all there.

“We wanted to take you to brunch. Have a girl’s day essentially,” Marta explained cheerfully bouncing up to her.

Blix nodded her head and walked over to her messenger bag that she still had to unpack from her trip to Georgia. She pulled out the frame, followed by the bomber jacket that her sisters had given her.

Gilberto picked up the frame and cooed, “Aww. Look at this. You were very cute. I assume this was your horse that Pacho mentioned? Zeus?”

“Yes. Zeus was a thoroughbred. He won best in show and was a damn good racehorse. Even though he hated his rider. Would only ever let me ride him without complaint,” Blix stated proudly looking at the frame.

Mariela, Aura, and Camila, however, were distracted by the bomber jacket she had pulled out.

“Awww. This is very cute! I bet this would look adorable on any little one you have. Maybe you and Pacho should get to work on that,” Mariela, Gilberto’s first wife, noted.

“What should we get to work on?” Pacho questioned as he joined them.

“Nothing!” Blix quickly cut in setting the jacket down and hiding it away, as her cheeks turned red.

He looked at her curiously, reaching for the jacket to look at it. He raised an eyebrow at it, glancing at her and Mariela. He knew what she was probably referring to as he looked at the jacket, but said nothing as he handed it to Diego, requesting he put it someplace safe.

Blix looked at him appreciatively as the women led her out to one of the cars.

Soon enough they were at some 5-star restaurant, having brunch and mimosas.

“So, Blix. Tell us. Have you thought about having little ones with Pacho?” Camila asked in a teasing voice.

Blix cleared her throat awkwardly, before taking a long drink of her mimosa. The other wives joined in, asking her how many and what not.

It wasn’t until Stella, Miguel’s wife, cut in, “Ladies. Relax. If they want kids, they’ll have them. Their relationship is still pretty new as well. Stop making her feel uncomfortable.”

Blix nodded gratefully at her and simply stated, “We… we haven’t talked about any of that. It’s also not something… I’ve ever really thought about.”

They all nodded in understanding and they continued on talking about everything else. The ladies insisted upon taking her shopping and getting more… saucy outfits for her to wear for Pacho.

When they stepped out of the fifth store, and she had about 15 bags of clothes that they claimed she needed, she was never more grateful to see Navegante.

“Save me,” She mouthed stepping forward.

He laughed at that and said, “Ladies. I’m sorry to interrupt but I must steal Miss Lage here for now.”

They all made sad groans and waved goodbye to her. Once they were out of sight and she was alone with Navegante she begged, “Please. Help. I can’t feel my hands.”

She held out her arms, and Navegante quickly took several bags, tossing them into the trunk. She set the last of them in the trunk once the weight was eased off of her. She took a seat in the passenger side as Navegante got in on the driver’s side. He drove off and she took a small snooze as he did so.

At some point, the car came to a stop and he was gently trying to wake her up. Pacho, who was waiting, walked up to her side, opening the door.

“I got this Navegante. She’s not easy to wake,” Pacho informed him with a laugh.

He gently cooed to her, telling her to wake up. Her eyes fluttered open after a minute and sighed deeply.

She blinked trying to figure out where she was at.

“Why are we at the ranch?” She rasped, clearing her throat, as she straightened up.

She unbuckled herself stepping out, taking Pacho’s hand into hers.

He led her over to a man that was standing there.

“Blix. This is Jack Walters. He’s a-” Pacho began to introduce.

“A breeder from Georgia. Hi. Um. How are you, sir?” Blix finished as she recognized him.

“Yes. Hullo. I am doing jus’ fine lil missy. Now. I hear, you were the original owner of my most favorite horse. Zeus. Mr. Hurrera asked me if I knew of any of his offspring available and well,” Came Jack’s very southern accent, as he motioned toward the trailer that was behind him.

She stared blankly at the trailer, as the info she was given processed in her mind. A stable hand came up to the door of the trailer and led out a large black stallion, that looked just like Zeus. She was amazed as she strolled over to him.

He stood proudly as she approached him, nudging his head against her as she reached out to pet him. He neighed softly as he gently pushed her, wanting more attention.

She giggled at him and looked back toward Jack, asking, “What’s his name?”

“Well. Like his grandfather, he is very particular about who goes near ‘im. He earned the named Phobos cause he struck fear into the hearts of most of the stable hands n’ riders. Honestly, I am surprised he is allowing ya to touch him,” Jack said amazed.

“He’s about 3 years old. His father was an offspring of Zeus named Ares. We tried to stick to the Greek theme, as was requested by yer grandparents before they passed,” Jack concluded, handing her documents that certified that he was indeed a part of his line.

She took them gratefully, holding them to her chest tightly. He then handed her something else. It was a strip of leather, that had Zeus’ name on it and some photos.

“I was told that… the selling of Zeus was something that… ya disagreed upon. So, I wanted ya to know that he was well taken care of and lived a very happy life,” Jack said sympathetically.

She takes the items from him, thanking him softly.

“Now then, me and my guys gotta head on back home. It was very nice to meet ya. I am sure Phobos will be happy here with ya taking care of him,” Jack waved goodbye as he walked over to the truck, driving off with an empty trailer.

When his truck disappeared, she turned back to Pacho, who stood there with a hand in his pocket, leaning against the hood of his corvette.

“You… you got me a horse?” Blix asked amazed as she looked between him and Phobos who was rubbing his face against hers.

She laughed at him as he moved to stand between her and Pacho.

Pacho cautiously moved toward her, Phobos giving him side eye as he did so. He allowed him to pet his back but refused to move out of the way.

“Yes. It took some time to figure out where Zeus wound up, but when I did, I found out he had many children, and a few grandchildren. So. I called up Walters and asked if he had one who looked like Zeus. The rest was just a business deal,” He answered with a smirk. “He has his own stall already.”

He nodded toward the empty stall at the end and she was happy to see his name was already written on it as well. She quietly led Phobos over to it, checking that he had plenty of hay and water to eat before leading him all the way in. He calmly followed, and settled in quickly, munching softly on some hay.

“He was given a thorough brushing and was given a good walk before you showed up. He was in the trailer for like 5 minutes before you arrived. I wanted it to be a surprise,” Pacho informed her as she closed the stable door.

She looked at the door, biting her lip as she looked at the lock.

“You might… want someone to change this. If he’s anything like Zeus, he’s wicked smart. He will be able to unlatch this,” She advised him looking at the simple latch on the door.

“Good to know,” Pacho said, watching as Blix dusted off the horsehair that had managed to get on her.

She turned to him once she was done, throwing her arms around him, kissing him. He lifted her up slightly, kissing back.

They pulled apart and she turned back to Phobos, “I promise. Tomorrow I will come back, and I’ll show you the grounds.”

He neighed loudly in response and nodded his head.

The two of them moved to his car and they drove back home. They walked inside, where the brothers were waiting, discussing plans.

“Ah. Did you enjoy your surprise my dear?” Gilberto asked as he noticed them walking in.

“Very much,” She replied leaning into Pacho’s side.

“Pacho informed us… that you want to be all in? Correct? Do you know what that means my dear?” Miguel questioned.

She nodded her head firmly, “Yes.”

“Pacho, you are head of security. You decide how much she needs to know,” Gilberto declared with a grin.

Blix looked at him, and he led her upstairs to his office. He led her over to the filing cabinets.

“These… these cabinets are filled with everything you would ever need to know about the Cali Cartel. I want you to be aware of the trust you are being presented,” He disclosed pulling out a small key from within his desk.

He handed it to her, and as she took it, he backed away and allowed her to move forward.

She looked at him and then the key, “Everything… is in those 3 file cabinets? I… feel like that’s a lie.”

“It is. But I wanted to see your reaction. These cabinets are mostly about distribution and who does what. The real key is the large data book you’ll see Miguel carry around. That is our financial ace in the hole. If DEA ever got ahold of that, they would know everything,” Pacho revealed as he leaned against his desk.

“So…this was a test?” Blix asked lightly, toying with the key.

“In a way, yes. I wanted to see what your reaction would be. You did not disappoint,” Pacho stated with a smirk.

She handed the key back to him, or at least tried to. He closed her opened hand, giving her fist a small kiss.

“You currently hold the key to my heart. Keep it safe,” He flirted his hands coming to rest on her hips.

She smirked and shook her head at the cheesy line but held the key tightly in her hands.

He led her back downstairs to the brothers who were chowing down on some food that the chef made. Pacho moved over to the couch, and Blix followed, collapsing into his lap. She kicked off the heels she was wearing to curl her feet up on the couch.

While the brothers ate and talked about a soccer game going on, her and Pacho simply relaxed.

“So, what was Mariela talking about this morning when I came in?” Pacho asked his voice teasing.

“She was saying we should have kids. Which later led to further discussion that apparently, we would have cute ones given our looks,” Blix whispered in response.

“Oh. Yes. I agree. We would have cute kids. Only if you wanted them though,” He replied back kissing her cheek.

“Never really thought about it to be honest. I also lived far longer than I thought I would too,” Blix admitted quietly.

Pacho nodded in understanding.

“We can discuss that in the future if you’d like?” He offered her.

She nodded once, turning her head to kiss him on the lips in thanks.

“So… where did all my boxes wind up, by the way?” She asked realizing the only thing that was in the living room was the piano.

“The books have placed in your library. The box that was marked your room and a few others, are in your closet, waiting for you to go through. We have someone coming out tomorrow to tune the piano as well,” He listed out casually.

“My library?” She questioned, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“I’ll show you later. I was thinking… Maybe we could move some of your stuff here. You stay here often enough as it is,” He proposed his hand fiddling with hers.

She thought about it for a moment, before replying, “Sure. I’d like that. Saves me the trouble of having to buy groceries. I’ll use it as my office space. That way we won’t have to move that. Plus, it maintains my cover for work.”

He kissed her softly, his arms holding her tightly to him.

“Pacho. Do me a favor? No more soccer games. You got lucky this time, but I don’t want to see what happens when that luck runs out,” She requested as she watched the brothers argue over the game with a raised eyebrow.

He hummed quietly, “I will try not to make risky moves, but my dear. I am who I am. My life will always be in danger.”

“I know. I get that. I just…” She trailed off.

“What lovely?” He questioned.

She looked him in the eyes, and she spoke truthfully, “I love you.”

His eyes widen in slight surprise, but his smile grew, as he replied back, “I love you too.”

She kissed him again, and he kissed back with growing passion. They broke apart when they heard loud exclamations from Gilberto, laughing.

She stood up and allowed Pacho to get up as well, and he went to go see what was going on with the game. Blix stood there for a moment before making her way upstairs. She stepped into her room, dragging the boxes that were in the closet, out.

She opened them all up and started to go through them. When she pulled out the bear again, she simply set him by the laundry, planning to wash him when she could.

She pulled out several old trophies from dance competitions and such. She placed them over by the one wall in her room that had nothing on it.

When that box was emptied, she broke it down setting it by the door. She looked at the other boxes, one of which had tea set painted with cherry blossoms. As she dug further into the box, she found more antiques that her mother had collected. Most of which were antique weapons: knives, daggers, and a mace to name a few.

Which slowly made her realize… what was probably in one of the other boxes. She set the dagger she was holding on the floor, walking on her knees over to the next box. She ripped it open with a grin she couldn’t hide.

Inside, in delicately placed pieces, was a full suit of armor. She couldn’t help the laugh of pure joy that escaped her as she pulled the helmet out, examining it. It was heavier than she remembered it and was in dire need of a polishing.

Diego who had heard her laugh as he patrolled, stepped inside, curious as to what she was reacting to.

“Is that… a suit of armor?” Diego asked incredulously as he took in the scene before him.

Blix nodded excitedly, “Wanna help me set it out?”

Diego was over to her in the blink of an eye, helping her pull out each piece gently and laying them out on to her floor.

There was a larger/long box that had the stand and the sword wrapped up inside. She got the stand ready setting it in a corner of her room. Toward the bottom of the box of armor pieces her sisters had sent some polishers, brushes, and towels. The two of them began to make the pieces shiny again, talking idly.

By the time they were done, and had placed the armor on the stand, it was about dinnertime. Pacho came looking for them, and he watched the two of them quietly, leaning against the door frame. He was happy to see the two of them getting along and bonding.

He cleared his throat, drawing their attention away from their project.

“Dinner is ready you two,” Pacho tells them.

They go and wash their hands quickly, before joining Pacho at the door. The three of them walked downstairs to the dining room, Blix and Diego taking either side of Pacho.

They had dinner and the guys went outside to drink and swim. While they did that, Blix went into his office, key in hand. She opened the first cabinet with a deep breathe, pulling the drawer open revealing numerous files.

She grabbed a handful, took a seat at his desk, and began to read through them. He was correct in that most of it was distribution information but there were also details on security. Who could be trusted and who they kept a close eye on.

She read quietly, trying to take in as much info as possible, stopping at one point to find a notepad to write things down. She was so focused she didn’t notice how late it had gotten by the time she had gone through 2 drawers on the first cabinet.

In fact, it was around 3am when Gilberto walked in, rubbing his eyes, trying to figure out who was still awake at this hour.

He watched her curiously, as she made notations every so often.

“Late night reading my dear?” Gilberto asked causing her to jump slightly as she looked up.

She looked around, finding the clock, and realizing just how late it was.

“Didn’t realize the time,” She rasped slightly, before clearing her throat.

Gilberto walked in, taking the seat across from her.

“Pacho cares a great deal about you. The fact that he has allowed you such access means a lot. Not even Alvaro has seen these files. There will come a time where your loyalty may be tested. I trust… you will not break his heart,” Gilberto informed her.

“I don’t plan to. I know I am in deep. But I also know… I love him. I don’t plan to hurt him anytime soon. At least… not unless he asks me too,” Blix stated with a smirk.

Gilberto laughed at that, nodding his head.

“C’mon. To bed with you. You can finish your homework after you’ve slept,” He said in a somewhat serious tone.

She takes the files that she had been working on and placing a sticky note on it, as a reminder as to where she stopped. She locked the cabinet back up and Gilberto escorted her to her bedroom, before returning to his room.

She took off the dress she had been wearing all day, throwing on a Yankees t-shirt and some sweats. She slipped under the covers with a sigh and slept soundly.

She slept well past breakfast, which caused Pacho to worry slightly.

“Do not worry too much Pacho. She stayed up late doing homework,” Gilberto stated trying to ease his worries.

Pacho looked at him confused, “Homework?”

“I found her reading over files in your office,” Gilberto elaborated with a smirk.

Pacho shook his head and got up to go check on her, anyway. She was buried underneath her covers, sleeping soundly. He noticed that her hands had smudges of ink on both of them. He gently brushed some of her hair out of her face, stroking her cheek lightly.

Her eyes opened slowly, noticing the tickling sensation. She spies Pacho’s figure standing there, and she simply opens her covers beckoning him in.

He joined her with a smile, allowing her to wrap herself around him, tossing the blankets over their heads.

“Hi…. What time is it?” She asked in a whisper.

“It’s almost noon. You missed breakfast. Lunch should be ready in about 20 minutes though,” He reported to her.

She mouthed an ‘okay’ and buried herself into his arms further.

“Just wanna stay like this for a few minutes,” She explained with a sigh.

“I’m okay with that,” Pacho tells her, holding her close.

It was a moment of simplicity that she desperately needed. She enjoyed his company, even if it was just something as simple, hiding under her blankets. She knew that once she got up life would run at full speed, but here… life was slow and easy. So, she was going to enjoy it for a few minutes before returning to reality.

[kaimelia]

Paper Rings (Ch. 8)

a/n: hi everyone! I've gotten a ton of sweet messages about my dad, and I just wanted to let everyone know that he’s recovering well! you’re all so kind and im so grateful for the support I've felt <3

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

Living with Amelia was definitely not what Link had expected. He’d come home to open cabinets, her clothes strewn over the floor of their bedroom, her phone loudly playing music as she took a shower. He’d pick up her clothes, throwing them into the hamper in the corner of the room, making her side of the bed left undone from the morning. Link had always used his apartment as a space to relax, somewhere to unwind, and think after a long day, whereas Amelia always had music playing, mumbling about how she was used to a loud house. He honestly didn’t mind, it was a perfect excuse for impromptu dance parties around the small space in the kitchen. He’d learned that she was not a morning person and often woke up late, causing their morning car rides to not always be the most pleasant occurrence.

One particular day, she’d woken him up insisting they go and buy another dresser to match his so that they’d each have more space for their clothes. He’d pushed the cart up and down the dozens of aisles while she tossed in decorations and a new sheet set, whispering about how he wasn’t a single guy anymore and wasn’t allowed to live like one.

He came home after a particularly long day and opened the door to see her dancing around the living room to whatever song was currently being overplayed on the radio as she folded their laundry. Amelia looked up to see him standing in the doorway, his lips pursed into a solemn line. She pouted and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck after placing a kiss on his lips. “Come dance with me,” she whispered, changing the song on her phone to a slower one as they swayed back and forth. The words had fallen from his mouth before he could process them, just the soft “I’m in love with you” whispered into her ear without his knowledge.

“What?” She stepped away, turning to face him. The music turned off and he frowned. “What did you say?” His brain ran through the last moments, trying to think of what happened to upset her.

“What? I said something?” Amelia shook her head.

“Nevermind,” she muttered, placing the folded clothes into the basket. Amelia hurried out of the living room, leaving Link alone with confusion across his face.

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

“And, he just said it! He didn’t even know that he said it.” Meredith raised her eyebrows.

“Do you love him?”

“I’m not an I-love-you type of person. I don’t think I said it to Owen more than a few times.” She rolled her eyes as her sister laughed at her. “Don’t laugh at me. That’s not fair. It’s only been a few months, too.”

“Sit down,” Meredith instructed, patting the space on the couch next to her. Amelia slumped down, sighing dramatically as she did so. “Do you love him?”

“I mean, yeah, but I always feel things sooner than I should. And if I tell him, it’s real.”

“It’s already real, Amelia. You live together. You talk about him every waking moment. I think you’re pretty serious.” The brunette crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her head to the side to look at Meredith. “You and I know better than anyone how easy it is to lose people, how soon and unexpected it can happen. So, I think that if you love him, you should tell him.” Amelia was silent. “Now, you can either go back home and tell him that, or you can make mac and cheese for the kids. They keep complaining whenever I make it.”

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

Amelia pushed open the door, dropping her key into the bowl. She saw Link standing in front of the stove, mixing something in a pot. “Hey,” he greeted. “I’m making pasta if you want some.” She was silent as she walked towards him, placing her hand on the back of his neck and pushing his face down towards hers. She kissed him hard, taking him by surprise as he let out a small laugh. He kissed her back, pulling away a few moments later. “What is that about?” Amelia removed her hand from his neck, her hands falling onto his chest.

“I love you, I’m in love with you, whatever it is. Okay?” He smiled at her. “I don’t say that very often. I’m not a feelings type of person, but I do. Love you.” He was still silent as he brushed back her hair, cupping her face in his hands. “Say something,” she whispered, looking up at him.

“I love you. You already knew that, though.” Amelia nodded slowly and kissed him again, more gently this time. She pulled away when her breath ran out, taking a deep breath and sighing. Their eyes locked together, wide grins spread across both of their faces. The sound of the water spilling over the pot broke the moment, Link whispering a curse and turning off the stove. He strained the pasta, leaving it to sit in the sink. “Well,” he muttered, running his hand over his forehead, “that ruined the moment.” She giggled, watching him grab bowls from the cabinet.

“Let’s eat later,” she suggested. He put them down on the counter and stepped back towards her, resuming their previous position. “For the record, I didn’t mean to freak out when you said it. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“For the record, I didn’t even mean to say it then. I’ve been thinking about it for some time now, but I didn’t want to freak you out.” Their lips met again and Link wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up to sit on the counter. He stood between her legs, pulling his face away from hers after a soft kiss. “When my mom came, she knew I loved you. She wanted me to tell you, I’ll have to text her.” Amelia smiled, holding onto the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

“Later. Right now, you show me how much you love me.”

[henrycavell]

homecoming part 2

summary: Syverson has been medically discharged from the army after a suicide attempt. He’d been able to hide his deteriorating mental health for years from the men around him, but now he has to face it head on. Hopefully not alone.

word count: 1,899

pairing: Syverson x OFC warnings: none

authors note: this is another slow/kind of boring chapter!! sorry, i don’t want to make these chapters very long because i know when i read fanfics i prefer shorter chapters soooo, but i promise next chapter is gonna be sad and probably hurt your feelings <3

taglist;  @littlefreya​ @mary-ann84​ @wondersofdreaming​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @geralt-of-baevia​ @asylummara​ @dearlybelovedluke​ @promptandpros​ @mansaaay​ @daddys-littlewhitegirl​ @vacant-writings​ ​ @80scavill​ @kaatelyyynn

PART 1 | PART 2

So the first meeting with Syverson could've gone better. Penelope had better first impressions with Aika than the with the former captain, but she was determined to turn things around. Returning to his home the next weekend, Penelope knocked before letting herself in, multiple grocery bags hanging from her arms. "Hey!" Her voice echoed quietly in the hall, the only response she was given besides the sound of Aika's nails hitting the wooden floors as she came running down the stairs. Making a mental note to schedule her an appointment with the groomers', Penelope brought the groceries into the kitchen, setting them down on the table. 

Syverson's pick-up hadn't been in the drive today, but Penelope didn't think on it too much. Beginning to take the groceries out of the first bag, Aika went running up to the back door, placing her paw up near the door knob and whining. "Need out, girl?" Penelope asked, setting down the coffee she held in her hands. Before letting Aika run free in the backyard, Penelope checked to make sure the gate was secure and then disappeared back inside to continue putting up all the groceries she'd bought. Every few minutes, Penelope would raise her head to look out the window to make sure Aika was still in sight. She couldn't help but feel on edge, she was still in a complete stranger's home and it was even worse when she knew he was out. 

Her gaze moved around the kitchen, noticing a thin layer of dust on the window sills and in the back edges of the counters. The floors looked like they could've used a decent mopping and there was a small pile of dishes in the sink too. Checking on Aika once more, Penelope moved to open the back door and decided to leave it open, allowing the dog to decide when she wanted to come back in. Placing her phone on the kitchen table, Penelope played her favorite band as she moved around the kitchen, starting with wiping down the counters and sweeping, before making her way to other rooms in the house. 

♫ We get colder As we grow older We will walk So much slower ♫

Making her way down the stairs after cleaning in every room upstairs, Penelope held a basket of dirty clothes on her hip with the intention of taking them to the laundry. Aika sat at the foot of the step, with her leash in her mouth, her head cocking to the side when the two made eye contact. "What's up, Aika?" Penelope asked, stepping off the last step before reaching down to take the leash from the dog. "You wanna go on a walk, huh?" Dropping the basket by her feet, Penelope knelt and clipped the leash to the dog's collar, holding it tightly in her hand as she opened the front door. "Okay girl, c'mon!"

Syverson had been gone most of that morning and afternoon to a psych appointment. He hated Friday mornings for that exact reason, twice a month a doctor sat across from him and tried picking his brain apart. And then by the end of the appointment, usually his meds were switched around, doses were changed. It was all such a big headache. Shutting the door behind him, he let himself slump against it, his shoulders drooping as he waited to hear the sound of Aika's paws hitting the floor.

Except he didn't. And the air around him had a slight scent of lemons to it. Pulling his brow together, Syverson stood up straight again and looked down seeing a laundry basket that he surely hadn't left there. "Aika?" No answer. Even though he was telling himself not to panic, Syverson could feel his heart start to pound heavy in his chest. Moving through the house, he stepped into the kitchen and saw things had been moved around, the dishes had been washed and new things sat on the counter like a fresh loaf of bread and a new box of cereal.

"Penelope?"

Still no answer. Sliding the back door open, Syverson stepped out onto the porch and called once more for his dog before his hands started to shake. Panic ran through every vein as he turned on his heel and returned back into the kitchen. If he could've just paused, taken a deep breath and just thought logically for just a second, he would've realized there was nothing to worry about. That it was obvious the volunteer from the VA had been here, that Aika's collar was missing from next to the front door, that they were just on a walk. But the only thought running through his head was that Aika was gone. Just gone.

Just breathe, he told himself, forcing his feet to carry him into the living room where he sank down on the couch. He let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling as he took in deep breaths through his nose, trying to focus on how his chest would rise and fall. Closing his eyes, Sy told himself to wait, to try and relax before he spiraled out of control.

Penelope had only taken Aika for a short walk around the block. It had only been about ten minutes after Syverson arrived back home that they came in through the front door. The door shut behind Penelope and Syverson rocketed up off of the couch in the living room, no longer able to listen to the voice in his head trying to calm him down. Penelope unlatched the leash off of Aika’s collar, and the second she was free, she darted straight up to Syverson, whose entire body was tense and rigid. She licked his hand, but he didn't respond, instead, glaring a hole into the side of Penelope's head, waiting for her to give him her attention. When her eyes lifted to meet his, he launched straight into screaming. "You don't take my dog anywhere!" He stepped forward, backing Penelope up against the door. Aika whined, laying down in the floor on her belly, hiding her eyes behind her paws.

Caught off guard, Penelope pressed her back up against the door, lifting her hands up by instinct, her eyes widening in fear as Syverson seemed to grow in size, bulking up on her. "What’s the matter? I just took her for a walk-"

"I don't care!" Syverson shouted, feeling like his face was on fire, sure that it was blistering red. He didn't trust Aika with anyone, certainly not a weak looking thing like Penelope. Syverson only knew Aika to listen to him and he didn't even want to think about half of the horrible scenarios running through his mind had she broken loose from the girl. Aika was more than just a dog to him. Hell, Aika was the only thing keeping him alive, especially on his bad days. His hands tightened into fists by his sides, veins popping out and running up his arm. Penelope could feel her heart hit her stomach, watching the anger on the man's face as his chest swelled. "Get out," he growled.

"W-what?" Penelope frowned, pulling her brow together as she looked down at his fists. She could feel her heart in her throat, wondering briefly to herself if he was the type to hit a woman. His fist alone seemed like it was the size of her head and she didn't really want to think too hard on how it might feel to be hit by a man his size. Aika was getting back to her feet, coming up behind Sy's legs, nudging her head against his knees in an attempt to comfort him, hoping it would help him to cool down.

"Get. Out." His voice had lowered now, though Penelope could still hear the exasperation in his voice. The man took a step back, his hand reaching down to scratch behind Aika's ears, trying his damnedest to get himself under control. Penelope felt frozen, her feet glued to the floor as she felt hot, burning tears in her eyes. For the last few hours she had worked hard around his home, nearly finished with everything besides his laundry. "Don't make me tell you again, girl!" Syverson stepped back towards her, feeling his anger spike once more. The sharp gaze he gave her was enough to startle her into jumping forward, slinging the front door open.

He slammed the door closed behind her and she heard the locks falling into place. Her hands were trembling as she looked over her shoulder towards the front door, slowly moving off of the porch. This time, Penelope had no intention of coming back. There had been plenty of times where she found herself in arguments or uncomfortable situations with other veterans she helped, but never had she felt directly threatened. Penelope kept her head down as she hurried to her car, not taking a second glance back.

That evening, Penelope had been quick to submit a report on Syverson, detailing his sizable outburst and how she had felt threatened. One of her counselors had asked if she felt comfortable continuing to see the former captain and she had answered no. 

"I'm sorry this happened," he sighed, closing Syverson's file and pointing towards the door, seeing Penelope out. "I'll have you a new client on Monday morning." 

It didn't feel good giving up on someone, but she told herself that she had to put herself first, her safety first. Penelope had never found herself in a situation with a man where she felt in danger, but now when she closed her eyes, her brain was just sending her into what if circumstances, the image of his tightened fists and clenched jaw permanently etched into her mind. Penelope just nodded, trying to keep her head held up as she left the counselor's office.

Out in the hall, she was having a hard time shaking this sinking feeling she had, like guilt was already beginning to eat her alive and she had only made her decision mere moments ago. Heading out into the lobby, Penelope stopped by the front desk, leaning her elbow against it and letting out a heavy sigh. The receptionist, a girl named Katherine, looked up at her and gave a confused look. "You alright? Ready to sign out, girly?" At the same time, a psychiatrist came walking up to the desk to check back in from their lunch hour. 

"Not really-" Penelope sighed, hearing her phone ding in her pocket, but for the moment, she ignored it. "When do you get off today? Wanna go get drinks?" she asked, picking up the pen to scribble her name on the sign-out sheet. 

Outside, the sun was already beginning to hide behind the horizon and storm clouds were rolling in. There was a heavy scent in the air, like the smell right before it rains. Penelope had been disappointed to hear that Katherine was pulling a double shift as she sank into the driver seat of her car. It seemed like she was heading to the bar alone.

Ding! Her phone went off a second time, reminding her of the message she had ignored only a few minutes prior. Her eyebrows raised slightly when she saw the the name that popped up on the small screen.

𝚃𝚎𝚡𝚝: 𝟽:𝟸𝟹𝚙𝚖 𝚂𝚢𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛.

[ashiiixoxo]

| Match made in Heaven | Lucifer x Demigod! reader

a/n- I hope y'all like this one even tho its 11.24 pm here and my 4 braincells keep thinking about the festivals event WITH SATAN AND LUCIFER IN A FUCKING YUKATA. enjoy~

summary- for the sake of your own safety you were send to Devildom, where Lord Diavolo would take you under his wing, being well aware of the abilities you possessed. you, being okay with going to Devildom, never expected to meet former angels. neither did you expect to fall in love down there.

masterlist

part 3 -  nosey brothers

you were showed around the House of Lamentation and tried to memorize everyones rooms and where to go and where not to go. everyone goes to their respective rooms, leaving you alone with Lucifer, whose room is next to yours. the awkward silence was broken when Lucifer opened your room door and said “go rest, dinner will be served shortly.” he turned around and left to his own room.

walking into your room, you admired how much it looked like your old one, except, the pictures with your friends and mom weren't there. you looked in the mirror of your closet. you looked like a mess, felt like one too but your hair and clothes looked slightly disheveled. opening the closet, hoping to find some comfortable clothes to put on, you found multiple uniforms.

your phone buzzed, signing that you got a text message.  Diavolo: This is my account. Diavolo: Feel free to send me a message any time. Diavolo: I forgot to mention that you will be attending to RAD with the brothers.

you opened the messages and checked his profile before responding.

Y/n: Thanks for letting me know! Y/n: I saw the uniforms in my closet already.

you locked your D.D.D and felt too tired to change clothes. in the human world it would be early in the morning already while here, it’s not even dinner time. the time in Devildom goes way slower than in the human world and its effects started to show.

you yawned and laid down on your bed. ‘it feels much softer than my own’ you sighed. you couldn't bring yourself to lay on the bed with the clothes you had worn the whole day. you remembered that Asmodeus had told you that each room has its own bathroom. sighing in relief you decided to check the two doors in your room.

the first one you opened was a storage room, filled with, what looked like some of your belongings and herbs. deciding that you had no business in that room to check anything you closed the door and headed to the other door. ‘this should be the bathroom then?’ the door creaked. 

looking inside, there was a large marble floored bathroom, slightly beige and (fave colour). you smiled at the sight of the bathtub and the shower cabin. you checked the cabinets for any type of skincare products and towels.

you sighed when you found nothing to clear your face with, but you did find the towels. taking some clothes from your closet and some underwear, you headed into the shower.

-

while you were showering some of the brothers decided that they wanted to chat with you a bit, only to find your room empty. they heard the water running and realized you were showering.

They let themselves inside your room and admired the way your room looked.  Satan found himself in front of your bookshelf.  Looking at the numerous books going from fiction to non-fiction, spiritual books, books about witchcraft, as well as science and anatomy books. He noticed books that he had himself, bought in the human world. On the other hand, Asmodeus found himself standing in front of your mirror and looking through your clothes. Admiring pieces he thought were cute or pretty.

Asmodeus beamed whenever he came across a revealing top or a dress.  Going, “this is so cute!” or “pretyyy” while looking at all the clothes in your closet. Meanwhile Belphegor made himself comfortable of your soft bed. As soon as his head rested on your pillow he was fast asleep.

While Mammon was looking around your room, being awfully quiet. He looked at your belongings, thinking to himself how much Grimm he can make of your furniture, accessoires and instruments (if you play any).

Satan took one of your books that seemed interesting, it was one of your notebooks where your mother wrote about your blood. You never really looked at it but it caught Satan’s eye. When he decided to open the book, he saw a sigil carving on it, a sigil used by witches to keep away demons.

He took note of the sigil and placed the notebook back. ‘Whatever was written in there shouldn’t be read by demons. And whoever wrote it, wields some real strong magic.’ Satan thought to himself.

You opened the bathroom door and saw the four demons looking through your stuff. Being too amused by their reactions, you quietly stood at the doorframe, observing them.

“I could sell these things for a whole lot of Grimm.” Mammon grinned, holding some of your traditional fans. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the fans. ‘why would you sell something as old as that?’

You saw Belphegor asleep and Asmodeus looking through your clothes. You held back a smile. Looking at Satan, who was quietly nodding while reading “the Resurrectionist”. He must like anatomy of mythical creatures. He seemed way too into it.

“sweatpants, really?” Asmodeus looked at the few sweatpants in your closet. “tsk tsk, why wear sweatpants when you have cute clothes like these.” You put your dirty clothes in the laundry basket and wrapped the towel around your hair.

“they’re really comfortable and easy to wear.” You grinned. You felt at ease. Even though they were demons, you didn’t feel threatened. It made you feel save even though they were looking through your stuff.

The demons snapped their heads into the directions your voice came from. They backed away from what they were touching, Mammon tripping over his own leg. You shook your head and dried your hair. “sorry, we didn’t mean to go through your belongings like that.” Satan was the first to apologize.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “what brings all of you to my room?” you asked while drying your hair. Asmodeus grabbed your hand and the towel and started to dry your hair. “don’t rub your hair, it will break. If you pat it, it will stay healthy and it will untangle easier.” He adviced. You nodded your head and thanked him. You felt your whole body relax as Asmodeus raked his fingers through your hair, eyes half shutting at the feeling.

“we came to talk to you.” Mammon answered your previous question. “about?” you inhaled when you felt Asmodeus fingers trailing down the back of your neck to your spine. You immediately moved away from him. ‘What the hell was he doing?!’ you thought.

You shook your head ‘demons’. Asmodeus got startled because of your sudden action and immediately moved his hands up. “was that too much?” he asked. Your eyes were wide and you felt the stinging pain on your back again. ‘Did he do that on purpose?’ you shook your head and muttered a sorry.

There should be no way he would know unless Diavolo had told him. “again, what did you guys want to talk about?” you asked, you were tense. Mammon shrugged at your action and answered “just talking.”

You nodded you head. They made themselves comfortable on the floor, bed and chair in your room. You joined on the floor with Satan. “so what is there you guys want to know?” you asked.

Mammon was the first one to speak up. “why are you not scared of us?” he was annoyed by the fact that you did not fear him the way he wanted to be feared. You shrugged. “this place is supposed to keep me safe, you guys are supposed to keep me safe. I guess I don’t feel that scared here.” Mammon wasn’t satisfied with your answered and shook his head.

“I’m THE great Mammon, Avatar of Greed, how can you, a mere, fragile human being, not be scared of me.” You shook your head. “so apparently the human world isn’t safe for you anymore, that’s why you’re here right?” you nodded your head, confirming.

“everyone will think you’re another exchange student.” Asmodeus sighed. “maybe that’s for the better, if the other demons think she’s an exchange student, they won’t bother her.”

“why is everyone talking so much.” The sleepy demon sat up and rubbed his eyes after being woken up from his slumber. His eyes landed on you, and he remembered why he fell asleep on your bed in the first place. “did you sleep well?” you asked. “hm? Yeah I did.” Belphegor yawned. “your bed is very soft.” He smiled slightly.

While we were talking, a glaring Leviathan stopped in front of the door. “Lucifer is calling for all of you, dinner is ready.” He muttered and walked away. “we need to go before Bee eats everything!” Mammon sprinted out of the room.

Asmodeus, Satan, Belphegor and you walked towards the dining area and took a seat.  Satan sat next to you, he sighed softly. He never got to ask you what he wanted to ask you. He now, had to wait until he could talk to you alone.

<previous - next>

Taglist  (ask to be added)- @cheesey-fox @inlustris-arts @izzieg3987 @salty-hearts

[ivybucky]

remember me - dad!bucky x gn!reader (kinda)

Request by @moonstuffsteve : can you make a drabble with bucky singing remember me from coco to his daughter before he leaves for a mission?

a/n: not me watching all of coco again just for this tiny drabble - no i didn't do that

masterlist

add yourself to the taglist

join the discord

author: abby<3

words: 484

The contrast of voices in the bedroom is what caused them to pause at the door as they were heading back to their bedroom with folded clothes. Not wanting to disturb the conversation, they stood just out of view of their husband and daughter.

“Sweetheart-” he placed a comforting hand across her abdomen. “I’ve got to go to work tomorrow morning before you wake up.”

Y/N could practically see the way her brows would furrow. “But I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, baby,” their husband sighed. “But there’s some people I have to go help.”

Her small arms wrapped around his neck as tightly as they could, her small voice muffled. “Will you come back soon?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Can’t leave my best girl for too long.”

Her soft hiccupped tears were quiet, as if she was trying to hold them in as best as she could. “Shh sweet girl,” he hushed. “Do you want me to sing our song?”

Y/N turned to look into the room by now, seeing the soft nod of their daughter’s head. The low timber of voice hummed indistinctly throughout the room at first, soft enough for only her to hear. The warm hue of the nightlight provided a cozy aura.

Remember me, though I have to travel far-

Y/N leaned against the door frame, laundry basket hanging off their hip. Lips curled at the sight of their husband kneeling against the side of their daughter’s bed.

Remember me, each time you hear a sad guitar-

Their heart hurt, knowing it was just as painful for Bucky as it was for their daughter. He sat back on his heels and rocked slightly, letting his daughter wrap their legs around his waist.

Know that I’m with you the only way that I can be-

Her cries had lessened, a soft face relaxing now in the crook of Bucky’s neck. He soothed their back, metal hands rubbing soft circles across.

Until you’re in my arms again-

He leaned forward, resting their now sleeping daughter back into the sheets of her bed. He whispered the last words of the song as he kissed her forehead.

Remember me-

He stood straight now, brushing the hair out of her face, before turning to leave the room. He gave a sheepish smile to his partner standing at the door.

“How much of that did you hear?” He wrapped an arm around their waist.

“I hear all of it, Buck,” they smiled, pulling him into a kiss. “Every time you do it.”

They sighed, resting their back against his chest, watching their daughter sleep. “She’ll be okay. Tomorrow will be rough for both of us.”

Bucky pressed a kiss into the crook of their neck. “I know, baby. You know I’ll always come back to you right?”

They sighed, leaning up to press their lips to his. “I know.”

Tags for this fic: f@fab-notfat @avengers-do-it-better @maisondumepris @hamiltonwrite12 @aletheladyinred @mcueveryday @nanners-the-great @mcubuckyandsteve @antheiagoddessofflowers @captainfile @stevieintheimpala

@friendlyneighborhood-fangirl @moonstuffsteve

[frostsinth]

Deals with Demons - Pt. 5

Prologue | Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |  MasterList

What part is this? Part 5? I’m so lost. I forgot which part I was on. Still not entirely convinced I counted them right.

A fun little continuation with a bit of magic play and hopefully revealing dialogue. A little NSFW at the end. As always, thank you for your continued support, and please comment and reblog! I need it for food as I can no longer afford any. All the best!

“Gods, I hate this place.” I growled.

Standing on the balcony, looking down at the courtyard below, each tainted memory of my life here filtered back up to my consciousness. My days as an initiate, forced to kneel on the hard stones under the hot sun for hours on end for the sake of “devotion” to the Gods. I still had the scars on my shoulders from the burns. Being made to polish the stones with nothing but a rough rag until my knuckles bled as punishment for not seeming enthusiastic enough at prayer. How many times had I been turned out of the meal hall for not appreciating what I had been given? How many nights had I spent shivering in the flowerbed, unable to feel my fingers or toes for not being able to recite psalms perfectly?

Now, a few of the Sisters hustled quickly back and forth across the courtyard below. Perhaps oblivious to my watchful eye, but still seeming terrified. I turned my head slightly as I sensed Abhilash shifting in the shadows of the doorway behind me. He leaned against the stone frame, crossing his arms over his chest. Watching me as I watched the Sisters below.

I turned my attention back to them, and saw another small group skittering towards the garden, looking about nervously. They still wore their habits; white dresses that covered them from ankle to wrist, and a head scarf wound about their hair and necks. I saw a few pulling at the fabric uncomfortably, and felt anger bubbling in my stomach again.

I raised one palm, imagining in my mind’s eye an entirely different garment. One that was not rough and scratchy, but instead soft and breathable. I imagined bare arms and ankles, and hair spilling free. I imagined it to be adjustable; to be worn in multiple ways instead of one singular, un-encompassing, unflattering shape.

The women below squealed and jumped in surprise, dropping anything in their hands as their clothing shifted on their bodies. I reached out with my magic, feeling and sensing the rest throughout the Abbey. I heard a few distant shouts that echoed my success throughout the halls.

Within seconds, the Sisters all donned a new uniform; soft fabric that wrapped about their bodies. I found I could sense the comfort of each if I reached enough, and willed the magic to loosen or tighten the cloth appropriately. Many of the Sisters had a preference for pants, though some preferred to retain their long skirts. Others had a blend of the two. I draped long, billowy scarves around their shoulders which could be worn to flow behind them as they moved or pulled up to loosely cover their heads should they so wish.

Then I closed my eyes, and focused my magic on the darkness filling my vision. I imagined that pristine white bleeding away. Replaced by black. Like ink spilled over their clothes and slowly spreading, staining the fabric. When I opened my eyes again, I saw the Sisters in the courtyard staring down at their bodies with wide eyes as the image in my mind played out over the clothing on their bodies. The courtyard cobblestones were splattered with the things they had been holding. Baskets upturned, food and laundry spilling out. I smirked at the image of confusion and dishevelment.

They looked about anxiously, then a hush fell over them as one by one they looked up and spotted me on the balcony. I slowly brushed my raised hand through the air, and turned my attention to the Abbey itself. I remembered the blood dripping down my knuckles and shoulders, splattering onto the cobblestones. I remembered being made to clean it. A futile effort, for each movement simply spilled more. I reached out again, feeling those stones across the entirety of the Abbey. Remembering the way they felt beneath my hands, knees, and feet. Sensing every single one. Then I bled upon them again; and as I watched, a pool of red clay formed in the center of the courtyard. It began to spread, slowly at first, then faster, like a wave of water spreading across the stones. The Sisters backed away at first as it swept towards them, jumping up fearfully as it reached beneath their feet. I watched the color follow the cobblestone path, snaking under the covered hallway. Felt it slip through the halls and stain each stone.

I looked at the light grey stones of the walls, and remembered staring at them for hours upon hours. Locked in my room, or forced to face one for my disobedience. I remembered every speck and molecule, every crack and crevice. I reached out my consciousness again, feeling the stone against my palms. And I imagined it warping. Changing. Opening up the dark hidden alcoves of the Abbey. I felt my magic burning inside me, filling me to the brim and searing like molten lava beneath my skin. Threatening to burst out of me as if I were an erupting volcano. But I controlled it. Cooled it beneath my concentration. And sensed the buildings around me changing.

The rock shifted and rumbled. The whole Abbey seemed to quake as it moved. Gone were the smooth edges and flat walls. Gone were the tiny windows and secret rooms and narrow halls. I spread the rock wide, shattering and breaking open new windows. Spreading the hallways wider, stretching the ceilings higher. Sharp and pointed railings rather than rounded and smooth. Archways where there were squares, pointed roofs where there was round. Sharp, gnarled points formed along the top edges of the buildings, shaped and carved into beautiful accents. Buttresses and ribbed vaults, clustered columns and abulatories. Until the once simple and dull little Abbey was an absolute breathtaking marvel to behold.

My anger stained the walls, just as my blood had stained the cobblestones. The light grey stoned darkened to ash with patches of dark clay accents. The dusty red roof tiles darkened as well, becoming more polished and crisp like fresh painted lips.

I dropped my hand and looked at my handiwork, leaning against the new stone railing in front of me. Breathing in shallow, subtle little breaths. The dark ash and sand stone walls, the blistering red roof tiles, the dusty dark clay cobblestones. Complete with huge windows, jagged edges, and sharp points. Yes… certainly an improvement. Hardly recognizable at all. Much more befitting for my purposes.

The Sisters turned slowly in place, looking about with wide, awe filled faces. They were hunched, fearful, shocked. And I relished that achievement. Their eyes turned back to me, and I saw many emotions flickering across their faces.

I found Treya among them, and could see her swallow heavily as our eyes met briefly. Then she bowed, first just her head, then more deeply at the waist. The other Sisters saw her, and followed her lead. I smirked, pleased to see how quickly they were learning. And pleased with Treya leading them there.

With a final flickering thought, I cast a sash from Treya’s left shoulder down to her right hip and around her back. She gasped slightly as it fluttered about her, jerking but still keeping her head bowed reverently. Her hand reached up and touched the blood red sash, then I saw her clasp it over her heart and bow a little deeper. Understanding my intent. The other girls looked at her with their mouths slightly ajar. Then dropped a little lower.

When Treya chanced another glance up at me, I nodded my permission, and she slowly rose, speaking softly to her Sisters. They too rose out of their bows, keeping their eyes down, and began to pick up the courtyard. I turned slowly to make my way back inside. I had to wrap my arms about myself to keep them from shaking.

Abhilash reached out as I approached him, steadying me with a large hand on my shoulder when my knees wobbled. His beady eyes studied me, blinking in succession.

“You used too much.”

“You think everything is too much.” I tried to scoff at the notion, waving away his words. 

Instead my legs gave beneath me. The demon caught me before I hit the ground. Tucking his hands under me, he scooped me up into his arms. I lay against him weakly, breathing in his smoky scent. Luckily, we were already out of sight of prying eyes, delving deeper into the newly reformed Abbey. It would belittle my powerful display if any of the Sisters saw me suddenly so helpless.

“I must say, I am impressed, My Queen,” Abhilash told me as he carried me down the long upper hallway, “Most mortals would be consumed and destroyed by the magic you just wielded; especially without proper training.”

I remembered the power that had coursed through my veins. Remembered the feeling of molten magic bubbling just beneath the surface of my skin. I believed him.

“Would you have let me?” I asked, my stomach twisting slightly for fear of his answer.

I didn’t hear his chuckle, but felt it against my consciousness. I closed my eyes, leaning closer to that mental warmth of his presence. Feeling strangely comforted by it.

“No.” He replied simply. “No I would not. I was watching over you, My Queen. Should you have tipped too close to the edge, I would have pulled you back.”

I nodded slightly, and relaxed into his arms. I let my mind open, and felt his own swirling alongside mine. I carefully studied it, feeling it meld in and out of my conscious thoughts. Fleeting flashes of emotions and impressions that I recognized as memories. More formed lines of thoughts. And always, that ever present hunger. Gnawing away inside him. I pressed a question to him, wondering at my own current limited power, testing our connection. I felt his answer, felt his promise. But couldn’t quite put the fleeting sensation into complete words. Still, it felt like the answer I wanted, and my lips curled into a tiny smile.

I was physically quite weak, and as he shouldered open the door to the Inner Sanctum, I barely managed to open my eyes to look about us. The fires that had consumed the wooden pews the night before had died out, leaving only coals and ash behind. The grey particles shifted and tumbled from the piles as the demon’s heavy steps shook the floor. I watched quietly, feeling numb and distant.

Slowly, he brought me up to the warped throne at the top. He sat in it himself, cradling me in his lap. His flames licked about my hands wrapped around his neck, and my head fell back against his shoulder as I tried to turn to look up at him.

“How do I heal?” I asked him out loud, my voice soft and wavering.

He chuckled, and I felt it move in his chest beneath my cheek. “You are not injured, My Queen. Just drained.”

I shook my head. I didn’t like feeling like this. I missed the power, the strength. I leaned heavily against his presence, longing to feel that way again.

“How do I replenish then?”

“You can rest. As long as we are bonded, the magic will return by itself in time.” He explained, and I felt his mouth next to my ear then as he curled around me. “Or, you can take some more.”

“How?”

His essence enveloped mine, wrapping up my consciousness in his internal fires, and I felt the warmth licking at my core. I enjoyed it, my toes curling, my mind melding even more with his. And I felt his hunger again, chewing at the corners of my consciousness. Blowing on the embers of my own desire sitting in the pit of my stomach. I let a deep breath billow out from my lungs, spreading the feeling throughout my body.

“I can feed,” He murmured against my ear, “And you can replenish from me as I do.”

I blinked slowly, and ran my hand down the side of his face. “I am too weak now to be a good meal.” I said bitterly, tracing my thumb under his smaller eye.

Another chuckle, and his tongue darted out, skimming his lips. Turning his head to align our faces and leaning down. 

“No, My Queen. You are tired. Not weak. You are never weak...”

As he pressed his lips against mine, I felt his hunger flare in my own chest. Burning and setting my building desire ablaze. Smoldering in my breast and pulsing beneath my skin like jolts of electricity. It warmed me, and I felt strength returning to my limbs. I curled against him, pressing into his body as his hands wrapped around mine. He ran one large hand up my back, sliding along the silken dress I wore, massaging between my shoulders.

I straightened, pulling my legs in. Feeling emboldened by his kiss, I turned, resting one knee on either side of his thighs on the bench. Straddling him as I settled back to sit on his lap. The position made us level for once, and I pulled out of the kiss to meet his many eyed gaze. His grin spread from ear to bat-like ear, and he hitched my skirts to drag up my thighs. Allowing our hips to touch skin to skin beneath.

My breath shuddered when it passed through my mouth as we brushed together, and he licked at my lips with his long tongue as if to catch its escape. Then he turned, nudging my face to the side and tracing along my jaw to my neck. His teeth nipped at the skin there gently, and I felt one of his hands move to cup my ass and slide me closer to him. Grinding me along his length.

I ran my own hands back along his skull. Playing my fingers through the flames as he buried his face in my neck. His hands worked and massaged me between them, and I felt myself growing hot beneath his touch. He licked and sucked lightly at my neck, and I let my head fall back to expose more to him.

His growl felt good against the skin of my throat, and the vibrations in his chest made me shudder with anticipation. His lust mixed with mine, until I couldn’t tell one from the other. Both burned hot, and filled my chest to bursting. I felt my face flush, felt my core flex and tighten as the ache settled in my loins. I sensed his nose twitching, smelling my arousal. He growled again.

The demon pulled back, catching the back of my skull in the hand that had been at my back and bending me to face him once more. I barely had time to acknowledge the movement before his mouth was pressed back against mine.

The blackness enveloped me almost instantly, and stars spun about the edges of my vision. I lifted up, free and weightless again, floating in this strange space. I felt it pulse around me, spinning and twisting. Filling me with the addictive bliss and euphoria. I relaxed into the essence, and turned, acknowledging the other presence there. I reached out to it, feeling it reaching out to me this time. Like thin wispy threads connecting us. I could feel him drawing from me now, but felt unhindered by it as I recognized the power I had drawn from each time before. I pulled it to me, hungrily taking as much as I could manage. A tickling sensation at the back of my mind gave me pause. An amused warning. I felt a flash of a memory brought before me, and recalled the last time I had drawn out too much of this power.

I gave whatever passed for a sigh in this strange place, and relinquished my feverish grip upon the power source. I felt a familiar chuckle rippling around me, and half turned to try and sort out what I could of the blackness. He seemed to navigate through here. Could use it to draw on my memories and my emotions. He fed on them here, and I could access his stores of power. Why shouldn’t I be able to “move” as he did then? With a little practice, of course. Better than simply floating in blissful euphoria, subject to whatever he felt I deserved. I sensed his amusement again, and his affirmation of my thought process.

But then I felt sinking, and slowly fell back into my body. Like water being poured into a glass. As I returned, I felt myself melting against him, tucking my body into his chest. Curling my arms around his neck. I breathed out a wave of pleasure, and sunk into the last of my physical form. Not nearly as filling as the last few times I had been pulled into that realm. But satisfying for now. I could already feel myself much stronger than before.

“Just a taste,” I felt him croon against my ear, and his tongue lapped at my earlobe, “We’ll save the main course for tonight.”

I smirked, agreeing with him. I reluctantly leaned back, meeting his waiting gaze again. He reached up one big hand, pushing my hair back out of my face. His smaller eyes glanced down to my lips, and the tip of his tongue flicked along the edge of his mouth. I could still feel his desire, his hunger, curling around my own. I enjoyed it for a moment, rubbing my thumb along his jaw, staring deep into the dark abyss of his eyes.

“That’s better.” I murmured, internally stroking the replenished magic in my veins.

And it was. None of my previous weakness lingered. I was grateful for that. I did not like feeling so helpless. He grinned at me, and his large ears twitched slightly as my other hand moved over one. I felt his thoughts tickling at me, but couldn’t quite fathom them as well as my own yet. I wondered if he was the same, or if perhaps experience had allowed him more understanding of my consciousness. He watched me studying him quietly for a long time.

“What’s next, My Queen?” He asked finally.

I brushed my hand over the back of his head, watching the flames shift slightly beneath my touch. “Next, I need an army.”

His grin grew by a few molars. “What sort of army did you have in mind?”

“The devilish kind.”

Abhilash laughed, and leaned in to nip at my chin briefly. “Where did you get such a notion?”

“The Abbey’s library has few tomes on the subject, but those it does speak of subdemons. Minions of evil, I believe it called them.” I told him, then wondered briefly if I had been misinformed and was making a fool of myself. But his excitement lapping at my consciousness made me decide I was not. “I would summon them, to guard the Abbey. To be ready to fight whomever may come calling at my door.” I continued eagerly.

He nodded. “A wise choice, My Queen. They are called grumons, lesser demons of the higher planes of hell.” He explained. “They are not powerful on their own, but in a swarm? Quite formidable.”

I slowly eased back, sliding off his lap. “Are they easy to summon? To control?”

“I can show you how, it is not difficult,” He replied, his hands lingering on me even as I stood before him, “And they are quite loyal to whomever summons them; as long as they are powerful enough.” His grin returned. “Which you certainly are.”

“You’re in my seat.” I told him, crossing my arms over my chest.

He laughed, amused. But rose obediently. Standing face to face with me, I had to crane my neck back to look up at him. I was reminded again just how big the demon was. His broad shoulders were nearly twice my width. Hell, his thigh was almost as large as my torso. His great horns matched the width of his shoulders, and his entire body was finely sculpted muscle that flexed powerfully with each movement. But he stepped lightly to the side, offering my seat to me. I smirked, understanding he did it more from amusement than any true subservience. But that suited me fine. I sat, crossing one leg over the other.

“Are they intelligent?”

Abhilash shrugged, slowly pacing around to stand at my back. His hands reached out, settling on my shoulders. “They can understand an order, and can follow simple tactics.” He said, slowly beginning to work his strong fingers against my muscles. “I wouldn’t make one a general, but they make excellent foot soldiers en masse.”

I leaned my head back against his chest, enjoying the feeling of his hands working on my shoulders. “How long can they stay on this plane?”

“As long as you need them.”

I considered that, turning it over in my head. It seemed a good plan. And would certainly lend credence to the image I was cultivating. I didn’t imagine I would have very long until the first adventurers came knocking at my door.

A thought suddenly occurred to me, and I frowned. I felt Abhilash’s fingers slow as he sensed my shifting focus, but he waited patiently for me to voice it.

“Is this common?” I asked curiously.

“What, My Queen?”

“This. You and me.” I rubbed my fingers over my chin. “I have never heard of a human and demon working together like this before. Do your mortal marks often ask your advice? Take your counsel?”

His answering chuckle rumbled against me. “No, My Queen. Most mortals do not trust my words. Certainly not enough to actively seek my counsel.”

I traced my consciousness around his, working our minds together. “Should I trust you?”

The demon considered that, and I felt his thoughts palpably as he turned them over and over in his mind. Again, I couldn’t quite shape them into words, but I felt confident we were too bonded for him to lie to me now. I would know if he did.

“Most mortals who make a deal with me are desperate.” He began finally. “There is something specific they need, and I am simply a means to that end. Their end will come swiftly, and they know this. A final surge of great power before they pass into the next world.” His hands began massaging my shoulders again. “Others believe themselves above demons; they treat us as slaves or merely weapons to be used and cast aside as the need arises. Try to force us and bind us to their will. They take only the barest minimum, always careful not to strengthen our pact. For they fear allowing me to become to strong, or have any power over them.”

I thought about this, considering my hands in my lap carefully. “And me?”

His thumbs rubbed against my spine. “You… you are different.”

“How so?”

He seemed to be struggling to find the words, and I felt him breathe a soft ‘hmm’ as he searched for them. I let the silence stretch, waiting patiently. Finding I was curious more than afraid.

“You do not fear our bond, but instead embrace it. Our desires are more compatible,” He said, “What you desire and what I enjoy go hand in hand. It allows for a … stronger relationship. A deeper, more intimate one.”

I almost laughed. “I believe you just implied that we are a couple, Abhilash.”

I felt him bending down behind me. “Are we not, My Queen?” He purred in my ear.

His voice sent a shiver down my spine. But I considered his words, even if he had meant them in jest. I had no experience with such things; growing up in an Abbey did not exactly allow much exploration of intimacy and relationships. I ran my tongue over my lips, then shook my head. Now was hardly the time to allow myself to be distracted by such things.

“We are a partnership.” I decided. “Whatever else our relationship, it is mutually beneficial to both of us. In equal measure, I’d like to believe.”

He nibbled at my ear, and I reached up and pushed him away patiently. Feeling his amusement brush alongside my own.

“You have a dark heart, My Queen. Your soul is sharp and hardened. And any demon would enjoy serving you. I have not met a mortal of your like before. I enjoy your hunger, your greed, your ambitions. They are both delicious… and familiar.”

“So you are saying we get along so well because I am more like a demon than a mortal?” I asked, finding myself more than a little amused at the notion.

His laughter echoed around the room. “I suppose I am, My Queen. But I am certainly glad it is my mark you wear.” He nuzzled back against my ear. “I am greatly enjoying our… partnership.”

I reached up, resting my hand on top of his. “Oddly enough… I am too.”

...

UPDATE: Part six HERE

[gophergal]

Hooooo Boy! This took longer to write than I though, but with the help of @bucketofcowboys ​ , I did it! (Encouragement from @bisexual-horror-fan was also a major motivator) enjoy this second chapter <3

I’m Not Lonely - Chapter Two

Word count:4 000+| Rating: M |  Michael Myers x OC | M/F

Morning came, with all that entails. In the midst of her freshly awakened delirium, Jean was sure that the previous night's events had just been a strange dream. She'd been known to have dreams like that, especially when she was stressed. The paranoia induced by the news I listened to on the way home must have been the basis, she told herself. She had been exhausted and what she did in that dream was absolutely ridiculous. Never in a million years would she be so stupid as to do what she did. That would be like one of those foolish horror story protagonists that Jolene liked to tell her about. With a light chuckle, Jean changed out of her pajamas into the brown sweater and jeans she liked wear on cool mornings like this. There were plenty of things to do today, but none of them could be done on an empty stomach, so off to the kitchen it was.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the living room came into view, and suddenly her train of thought came to a screeching halt. The coveralls, with their dark stains and tears, lay on the floor, mocking her for her stupidity. Their owner, however, was absent, with no sign of his presence. Jean's heart began to beat far too fast in her chest as her mind raced with all the things that could go wrong. She turned suddenly to leave the room and crashed into a solid mass, stunning her for a moment. At once, she was hit with a wave of embarrassment as she was pressed against the chest of her uninvited guest.

“Oh! Excuse me, I didn't see you there,” She exclaimed, taking a step back from the man. Now, in the daylight, she could take the moment to realize how tall he was. He was about a whole foot taller taller than her, built like a football player, and, when she'd been pressed against him, solid muscle. “Um, I, well, I'm going to be making myself some breakfast. Would you like to join me in the kitchen?” He didn't answer, unsurprisingly, but she could feel his presence as she moved toward the other room. Her mind was a storm as she flipped an egg in the skillet. What am I even doing? She wondered, I don't know who the hell this guy is or what he did last night before he broke in.

Jean set a plate of eggs and toast in front of the stranger, then sat across from him with her own steaming plate. The air was heavy with tension as they sat, the man staring at Jean as she struggled to force her mouth to form words. Neither of them reach for their food and Jean feels the need to squirm in her seat. She spots her notebook and pen.

“Ah, I- Um, I never caught you name,” she pushed the paper and writing instrument toward him gently, “Mine's Jeanette. Jeanette Parrish. Well, I just go by Jean, because that's what everyone calls me.” She stuttered out. She would almost feel embarrassed if he weren't watching her in such an intimidating way. Like an owl watching a mouse scurry across the forest floor, waiting for the moment to swoop down with its talons bared.

Stop that, she thought to herself, you're working yourself up over nothing. The little voice of common sense returned, Or not. He very well could be dangerous. After all, how many good men just break into a person's home covered in blood, refusing to speak? Feeling a bit overwhelmed by the thoughts racing in her head, Jean pushed herself up from the seat a bit too forcefully, nearly knocking her half eaten breakfast off the table. She needed air. Somewhere without his eyes on her, forcing her mind to spin wild thoughts. She went outside to the utility shed, a basket of dirty laundry (she'd grabbed the filthy jumpsuit without thinking on her way out) pressed to her hip as she exited. The washing machine was set up to cycle and she leaned against it as it filled with water.

She let out a shaky breath, tapping her fingers against the cold metal as she calmed. The machine hummed and shook as it worked, the rhythm of it lulling her into a sort of relaxing trance, broken by the buzz signaling the cycle's completion. On autopilot, she removed the garments from the washer's drum and took them to the line, performing the repetitive motion of hanging them up to dry. When done, she went back inside, seeing no sign of the man when she did. He wasn't in the kitchen, where she had left him, the only sign of him being on the table, where his empty plate sat beside the notebook. Jean was amazed to see a name written down on the paper in a childish, unpracticed scrawl. “Michael,” she read softly to herself. Well, that answers one thing, she thought, but leaves a lot more for me to wonder about.

Michael watched from threshold undetected as the woman, Jean, flit around the kitchen tidying things up and washing the plates and silverware. She moved with purpose and care, reminding him much of the few nurses who cared for him in the sanitarium. One question kept coming to him, however: how stupid was this woman? When she first saw him, she did not scream or beg, or even run away. No, this one stood her ground against him, a thing of pure evil, silent and horrific. Admittedly, it intrigued him, her strangeness. He realized that she lived alone, yet appeared no older than his escaped prey, Laurie. Young women didn't tend to live alone, only old women and men did. She would have been an easy kill, had he chosen to do so.

Why hadn't he? Well he hadn't wanted to, of course. Why hadn't he, though? Enough. He wouldn't waste time on this line of thought for longer than he needed to. Only because you have no answer, The Shape spoke. He supposed that was true. He felt the same urges he had when seeing those girls Laurie surrounded herself with. The same urge he felt when he was young, seeing the life leave Judith. Jean was beautiful, and  there was only one thing a devil could ever do to beautiful things: destroy them.

Jean felt eyes on her back as she put the clean, dry plates in the cabinet. She twirled around to see Michael in the threshold, head cocked ever so slightly to the side. She started to move again, not even noticing the pause she made in her movements. She walked past Michael into the living room, deciding to straighten the book shelves and sweep the floor. The usual intense focus she would fall into refused to come, the presence of another body too distracting for her to push from her mind. Why won't he leave, she wondered quietly.

Eventually, she gave up on the endeavor, choosing to flop onto the couch, frustrated. She picked up the book on the end table. Well, I could always start that book Jo recommended to me, she considered as she opened the book. She'd only gotten a few lines in when she felt breath on her shoulder, causing her to hesitantly look to the source. Michael stood, head tilted like a confused pup. She swallowed and pointed to the book, “Have you read this one? My coworker said it was good, but I'm not very fond of scary stories,” she said, “but, if you wanted, I could read it aloud and we could experience it together? You might want to sit down if that's the case.”

Truthfully, she just wanted him to stop hovering uncomfortably behind her like a cat ready to pounce. To her surprise, he did, though a bit closer than she was comfortable with, a closeness which was increased by gravity pulling her to the low spot made by his superior weight. She cleared her throat, “Well, I suppose I should start then,” a pause as she readied herself to read, “Chapter one: Job Interview. Jack Torrance thought: Officious little prick...”

She read until she could read no more, Michael sitting as still as a cold marble slab next to her on the old couch. When she looked up, throat scratching from the use, she noticed that it was quite dark outside and, upon looking at the clock, realized that she had missed dinnertime and her stomach was quick to confirm. Dog-earring the page she was reading, Jean set the book back on the table, rushing to the kitchen to get something to eat. She eats a plate of leftover meatloaf that had been in the refrigerator, and left a plate for Michael, should he decide to have some. With a yawn, she turned off the light in the kitchen, slinking up the stairs and looking over to the couch where Michael still sat.

The bedroom door was shut firmly behind her and she turned the lock to give her peace of mind while she slept. Are you so sure that will keep you safe, her common sense questions, when he's so close by? She pushed it from her mind, it's all she could do if she wanted to sleep. Besides, becoming paranoid wouldn't serve her well either. The bed wasn't comfortable enough to counter her stress and confusion over the situation she'd gotten herself into.

Jean awoke abruptly, horribly aware on this morning that the previous day and night were not, in fact, dreams. She was also horribly aware that she would have to leave her room at some point that day. Oh shit, she thought, I have to work tonight. Snuggling further into the soft comforter on the bed, she grumbled internally. She didn't hate her job, but she sure as hell didn't like it. Annoying, entitled customers weren't the only thing she disliked about it, but they were a big part of it. The next man to call her “sugar tits”, “babydoll”, or anything overly familiar was going to have to get her fist surgically removed from his face. She was a waitress, goddamnit, not a whore! And even whores deserved more respect than that. Both she and they were just working women, after all. How could that ever be undeserving of basic human dignity?

Rolling out of bed, she hissed at the cold hardwood under her bare feet. The weather is cooling rather quickly, she noted as she put on slippers, unlocked the door, and braced herself as she tiptoed down the stairs. There was no sign of Michael, which seemed to be the norm with him. She half expected to run into him again as she had the previous morning. He wasn't in the kitchen either. Or the bathroom. Or the closet. Not hiding behind her like the shadowy creature in an old monster movie. Finally, she checked the backyard, only to see that the man's coveralls were missing and in there place the clothes he'd borrowed had been lazily draped over the line.

It was- surreal in a way. He was gone just as abruptly as he'd appeared. It was almost sad to have him gone, in a strange way. The house felt emptier, like it was missing something. She shook her head. No, this was the way it was meant to be. She could only hope that he didn't decide to return. That settles that, she thought to herself, now I can just live my life in peace. All that left for her to do was get some breakfast and enjoy some time to herself. Same thing as every day. Eggs and toast. Get dressed. Tidy the house. Sit and read. She felt odd picking up The Shining again. It's rude to read ahead when you're trying to share a book after all. She put it down without a second thought. Picking up an old favorite, she began to read it all over again. It must have been the- what? Tenth time? Something like that. It was a comforting book to read, after all.

Soon enough, it came time to ready herself for the long shift ahead. Her clean, wrinkle-free pink blouse and black skirt reflected back at her in the mirror as she pulled  her hair into a half ponytail in the back. She dragged herself to the car, an old gray clunker that had to be from the last decade or so. Jean didn't really know. It was granddad's from when he was a younger man, but she remembered how her brain would shut down every time he tried to talk cars at her. At least she knew how to change tires and oil, the mechanic could worry about everything else.

The door to the diner section of the truck stop swung open as Jean walked in. There was only one patron sitting at a table, a plate of meat and potatoes set before him. He looked up at Jean and gave her a friendly nod, which she returned with a smile. At least he wouldn't be a nuisance tonight. She walked back into the kitchen where Jolene leaned against a counter top as she chatted with Gus, the cook. He was a big man who's heart was as big as his biceps. He was an amazing cook too and, oftentimes, it made Jean wonder why he hadn't become a chef at some big fancy restaurant. He noticed her and grinned.

“Hey Jean, did you have a good day off?” he asked, deep voice carrying over to her. Jolene seemed to light up, turning to look at Jean.

“Yeah, it's never as fun around here without you!” she said. Jean smiled.

“Oh, y'know, same old, same old. I started reading that book you recommended to me though!”

“Really? What do you think? I know you're not one for scary stories, but I thought you might like this one.”

“Pretty good so far, actually. I didn't think I'd like it, but I've enjoyed it quite a bit. I like the atmosphere the author's set.” Jolene smiled at that.

“That makes me really happy, Jean. Now if only you'd just-”

The redhead was cut off by the jingle of the door as a customer stepped into the establishment. Jean flashed her a small smile as she made her way over to where the man sat down. She knew exactly what Jo was about to say next and felt as though she'd dodged a bullet when she got away. Now she'd just have to be sure she wasn't hit by the ricochet when they took their break. “Now sir, what can I get you?”

Finally, a quiet moment came where no customers sat in the dining area. Jean took the moment to join Jo as she left out the back door. Jolene stood in the light of the small bulb that flickered above the back door. She puffed away at a cigarette that she clenched between her peach toned lips. A grin quirked up to her lips when she noticed Jean, who sighed as she prepared for the usual lecture Jo liked to give her.

“Oh Jean, you wouldn't believe the guy that came in here yesterday,” Jo began, taking a pull off the dwindling white stick, “guy waltzes in like he thinks he's hot shit. Couldn't be any older than, what? Sixteen, I'd guess. Just some dumb fucking kid. And he says to me Ay, dollface, how's 'bout you get me a beer?”

She throws her hair around, “As if he thinks we won't card him, ha! I tell him about as much and say I'll bring him a soda, so Mr Tough Guy gets pissy, but agrees. When I leave to go get it though, the little bastard grabs my ass! What a pig, am I right?

Well, I know he's lucky that you weren't here because you would've been on him like that!” she snaps for effect, “well, Gus just threw him out and made sure I was ok, but still, what a little creep!” She finishes, throwing her hands up in the air as she did.

“Wow,” Jean began, a bit confused as she always was when Jo would go off on a rant like that, “the nerve of some people! You're right, I would've taught him some manners right then and there. Little bastard.” She swore.

“It's no big deal, I guess. It's not like I'm hurt or anything.”

“That's not the point! You know I can't stand when people like that act like they can just do whatever the hell they want.”

“I know, but there's no need to worry about it. Gus took care of it.”

“Not as harshly as he should have.”

“Well, you know that's just not how he rolls.”

“I do.”

“Now-”

“Oh no.”

“Don't you Oh no me! You didn't call my buddy Robert back!” She threw her hands to her hips, her brows furrowed.

“Jo, please-”

“You promised me that you'd give him a chance, Jean.”

“I did. We just didn't hit it off, I guess.”

“Ugh, that doesn't mean you get to be rude to the guy. The best thing to do is tell him up front.”

“I'm sorry,” and she was. Jo was just trying to help her, in her own way. This was the third guy she'd set Jean up with. It was sweet of her, but the help was unneeded and very much unwanted.

“I'm just- Well, I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to end up a lonely old woman, bitter because you never found anyone.”

“According to you, I'm there already,” Jean said, chuckling.

“Laugh it up, but when that happens you'll think: Oh, how I wish I listened to Jolene! She's always been so smart, why did I disregard her advice!” she danced about dramatically as she said this, throwing an arm over her head with the last word, making Jean snort-laugh.

“Alright, alright, you have a point.”

“Yes, I do! Now do you promise to keep an open mind?”

“Of course.”

“Pinkie promise?”

“Yes,” she said, holding out the finger, which Jo hooked with her own. The door opened gently and Gus stopped it with his foot.

“Something I missed?” he asked softly.

“No, no,” Jo laughed, “nothing at all!” Gus rolled his eyes.

“A'right then, well your break's up, ladies,” he said, holding the door open more so that they could enter.

Jean felt light as she drove home from work. Her shoulders were relaxed as the blackness surrounding her passed by. Talking to Jo and Gus was like therapy for her. She could almost push Michael and his intrusion from her mind. Almost. She was still a little worried that he'd show back up in the night. Thankfully, there was no figure on her couch when she unlocked and opened the door (making very sure to lock it back after her). There was no man sat at her table, no towering mass in her corner with intense black eye holes that made her feel weak and small. And that was how it stayed for days. That's how it stayed when she woke up to eat eggs and toast. That's how it was when she went to work and when she got home. For about two weeks.

She got home after a late shift, more tired than she had been in a long while. It had been the stress, she guessed, of Jo reminding her that she had no plans for the holidays that were rapidly approaching. No loving husband and in laws to fill her home with joyful voices and good memories. Being alone had its downsides, it seemed. She flopped straight into bed with a muffled groan of annoyance, then fell asleep with ease. It was also with ease, however, that she was awoken. First slowly by the creaking of her window and the cool breeze that came through it, but then abruptly by the sudden presence at the end of her bed.

The foreboding black shadow just stood there, the moonlight obscuring the figure in silhouette. She at once felt panic rush through her veins as she kicked her legs out. They connected with the figure's abdomen, forcing a deep strangled grunt from it. She flipped out of the bed, staggering to her feet as they tried to carry her to the exit. Her arm was grabbed, causing her to slip and nearly fall, had she not been pulled roughly to the figure's solid chest. She struck out with her free hand wildly, which was caught in a vice-like grip and, using the leverage gained from having her hands in its grasp, the figure pushed her roughly against the wall, pinning her and knocking the air from her lungs. The figure breathed heavily.

Jean squirmed helplessly against the wall, her torso bared vulnerably to her attacker. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away and holding her breath as she waited for the inevitable. When nothing happened she opened her eyes and looked back, catching the sight of a telltale white mask and blue coveralls. “What the hell, Michael?” She breathed through a clenched jaw. He responded with a head tilt, as though he saw no issue with the situation at hand.

“You can't just do that!” She yelled, which amused him because he could, and he did.

“Can I at least have my arms back?” She asked, as he pretended not to hear her, keeping her arms in his cruel grip.

“I'm sorry I kicked you, but you have to understand that I was afraid I would really be killed- Or worse!” Were he any other man, Michael would have chuckled. Not yet, Jean, the Shape supplied for him. That would have to wait. Regardless, he released her wrists, which she rubbed gratefully. She left the room, pausing to look over her shoulder expectantly, almost like she was waiting for him to follow her. And so he did, down the stairs and into the living room where she plopped herself down on the couch. He sat beside her, feeling as she leaned against him at first, then readjusted herself on the couch.

“It's been a while, huh?” She said softly, peering at him nervously. “Well, I'll admit, I can't get back to sleep with all this excitement. I'd like to read our book. Would you like that?” He tilted his head, first to one side, then to the other, which she took as a yes of sorts. She cleared her throat, then picked up the book, “Alright-y, where were we? Aha! There!” And she began to read.

Michael didn't pay much attention to what she was reading to him. On occasion, he would tune back in to her words to catch bits of the plot. Not that it interested him, but her voice, on the other hand- It was mesmerizing. He'd heard women's voices before. Obviously. Usually they held the tone of disinterested disgust, much like the nurses at the sanitarium. Sometimes it was in the midst of a pleasured moan, much like his sister, Judith mere moments before her life ended. Best of all was their fear, their pain, their death. The sound of it intoxicating, filling him with a sense of control and satisfaction. Something about Jean's voice, however, was very different.

When he heard her voice, regardless of what he would think on first seeing her (that being the desire to snuff her out like a candle), he would begin to feel a sense of calm wash over him. He felt like a child again, hearing his mother speak to him in soft tones. Mother. She wasn't quite like his mother, this woman, but it was a closer comparison than to either of his sisters. She was caring. Not like the nurses, with their fake chipper tones and needles filled with numbing drugs. No, she was real. For a moment, when she bandaged his wounds, he remembered Sunday school and the stories of angels he was told. Is this an angel? He asked the Shape. No, it responded angrily, this is flesh and blood. This is for you to rip and shred. To break into a million pieces. But not now, not yet. Now you wait. Now you remain patient.

And so he did.

[vsquadgoals]

Settling Down (J.W) Part Four

Part 1 

Part 2

Part 3

Ever since Jeff mentioned having more children that’s all Milena can think about, Alethea having a little sibling, but also having someone by her side while she’s pregnant, having someone to enjoy the beautiful moments with instead of doing it all alone. When she got pregnant with Alethea she had so many hopes for her future with her father and she dreamed of sharing those moments with someone and those dreams were crushed when she told him and it broke her heart, she struggled for so long to get other those feelings, sure she still struggled with some insecurities and she probably always would but Jeff had quickly broke down those walls that she spent so long building high for no one to get through; Now here she was dreaming of the day that she would be telling Jeff that she’s pregnant with his baby. No matter how excited she was for this day she also was so damn nervous, she was also excited to tell Alethea’s father and that didn’t turn out the way that she had hoped. Jeff was different of course but she still couldn’t shake the nerves that one day she would be raising two beautiful babies on her own. “You okay?” Jeff asks pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts, she didn’t realize that she was sitting in there staring at her unedited video for god knows how long. Milena looks up at him and smiles shyly before nodding. “I’m okay, sorry.” Jeff frowns and kisses her head before cupping her cheek. “You can tell me anything, you know that right my love?” God, he was so sweet, and just as fast as the doubtful thoughts filled her mind they were vanishing as she looked into his eyes that were full of pure love as he looked at her. “I know. It was nothing, I barely remember what I was thinking about.” She leans up and pecks his lips before smiling at him. “I love you Jeff.” He smiles and kisses her again. “I love you more Milena.” She brings her attention back to her laptop in front of her and starts editing the video that had been waiting for her. “Hey, David wants me to go with him to go look at some houses, I think Heath and Mariah are going as well. Do you want me to bring Alethea? We can have a little daddy daughter day so that you can get some stuff done?” Jeff asks standing across from her now so that she can see him over the screen of her laptop. She smiles at him and shrugs. “If you want to, that would be great. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” She asks knowing damn well he can handle it, Alethea was always an Angel for Jeff. He chuckles and nods “I think we’ll be just fine.” Milena smirks and nods before turning her attention to the laptop once again.  

Jeff finishes packing Alethea’s diaper back with everything he would need for her for at least a few hours, honestly he probably packed enough for like two days but he wanted to make sure he was prepared and didn’t have to bother Milena at all. When he brings the bag out of the nursery and puts it next to the stroller Milena looks at him confused. “What is David looking at houses for anyway?” She asks and he shrugs. “I don’t think hes going to actually buy anything, he loves his house too much, but they have a lot of fans that show up there all hours of the night.” Milena shakes her head. “People don’t know what personal space is.” He nods and makes his way over to his girlfriend and wraps his arms around her before peppering her with kisses. “Don’t worry I’ll always keep my girls safe.” He reassures her making her smile. “I know.” Before he can kiss her again Alethea is bumping into his ankles with her walker making him chuckle. “Oh, someone’s so jealous.” He teases picking her up from her chair. “Are you ready to spend the day with me?” He asks kissing her cheeks making her smile wide. Milena smiles “Call me if you need anything okay?” She tells him and he smiles and kisses her. “We’ll be okay I promise.” She nods and kisses Alethea. “Have fun with Daddy, don’t pick up any new tricks from Uncle David.” She teases making Jeff chuckle. He straps Alethea into her car seat and opens the apartment door. “Say bye Mommy! We love you.” he calls only closing the door when she says I love you too.  

Jeff had met David at his house so he could follow him to the houses, he didn’t exactly trust David enough to let him drive with Alethea in the Tesla, he was not gonna risk that. They were on house 3 and these houses were amazing, they were huge and beautiful, and David loved them. He posted a few stories as he walked through the houses panning over to Jeff and Alethea and then the rest of their friends every so often. Milena watched the stories while she took a break for lunch smile when she sees Mariah pushing Alethea’s stroller and Jeff holding her as she smiled wide looking around these big beautiful houses. The one the third house they pulled up to was not like the other ones that David had looked at, not as flashing, more normal and practical. Jeff looked at David confused. “You picked this house to look at?” Jeff asks confused as they walk up to it. David shrugs looking at him before they walk inside. “I don't know it’s nice. You don’t like it?” He asks as they start to walk through, Jeff looks around and he’s speechless, he loves the house, its open and a great size and so gorgeous. But a house like this was not something David would like to live in, this house was more for someone like him and Milena. Suddenly that’s all he could think about as they walked through the house, raising a family with Milena in this house, which room would be Alethea’s, where her play room would be, Milena and Jeff’s office and the basement was fully furnished and a perfect space for the barbershop. Then when they got to the master bedroom his heart swelled, he could practically see Milena decorating it with her incredible style and then the connecting master bathroom, he could see them laying in the huge bathtub relaxing together. “I love it actually.” Jeff finally says to David who shrugs. “It’s not really my style, this is more for like a family.” David says and Carly agrees. Mariah and Heath smirk knowingly at each other as they have been watching the was Jeff was looking around the house. When they’re in the backyard Mariah nudges him a little and smiles. “You guys should get it.” She says catching him off guard and then he chuckles looking at her and Heath. “We could never afford it.” He says and they shake their heads. “Milena would fall inlove with this place, it’s perfect for you guys. You could pull it I’m sure.” Heath says and he’s totally right, it was perfect for them and Milena would die for this house.  

They look at one or two more houses before Alethea is over it. Jeff says bye to everyone and hands Alethea her pacifier before putting her into her car seat and buckling her in. He decided to pick up dinner for the three of them before heading back to Milena’s apartment. When he enters he smiles seeing Milena walking toward the closet where their washer and dryer are with a basket full of laundry. “Hi beautiful.” Jeff says making Milena jump a little and giggle. “Oh Jeff, you scared me!” She says making him chuckle, he puts the food on the counter and takes Alethea out of her seat and puts her into her highchair. “hungry?” He says looking over his shoulder at Milena who nods and smiles. “I missed you guys. Did you have fun?” She asks tossing the load of laundry into the wash and starting it before sitting at the island next to Jeff. Jeff handed her food to her and nodded contemplating whether to tell her about the house. “it was fun, there were some gorgeous houses.” He says putting on Alethea’s bib and feeding her some of her food. “I could tell! One of them did not look like his style though.” She says taking a bit of her food and humming happily. She gets up from her seat and gets them both a bottle of water and puts them on the island and got Alethea her sippy cup full of water and put it on her highchair tray. Jeff thanks her for the water and nods feeding Alethea another bite before eating his. “That one was more our style honestly.” He says trying to be nonchalant. Milena looks at him and smiles a little sensing where he’s going with this as she eats. “Oh yeah? Maybe I could go see it.” She says hiding her smirk as she takes a sip of her drink, Jeff’s eyes light up and he looks at her smiling wide. “Really? Yeah that would be great. I think you’ll love it. Heath and Mariah think so too.” Milena giggles and nods. “Well ask David for the relaters number so we can set up an appointment to look.” Jeff nods happily before turning his attention back to feeding Alethea.  

The next day, that was how fast they were able to get an appointment to see the house, David insisted on going with them, we all know he loves a good reaction. Milena and Jeff got out of her car and Jeff took Alethea out of her car seat knowing she wouldn’t stay in it while they walked around, David’s Tesla pulls up right behind him and he gets out smiling wide at them camera in hand as always. “It’s beautiful.” Milena comments taking Alethea from Jeff as he puts her diaper bag on his back. “Isn’t it?” He comments before David is by their side and smiling wide at them before looking at Alethea who is reaching out for him. “Hi sweetie.” David says kissing her small hand. Milena follows Jeff and David into the house taking in every detail, as soon as she walked through that doorway she was in love and already planning her décor. David had his camera glued to his hand recording Milena as she walked through the house, Jeff leading the way. Her eyes were wide and full of pure happiness and she had a smile on her face she couldn’t hide. Once they had walked through the entire house, they went out to the back yard so she could see the surprisingly large yard that it had which was unusual for LA. It had a beautiful inground pool that had a hot tub connected on the corner, a huge patio that’s doors connected to the kitchen and a large patch of grass off to the side that had plenty of room for kids to run and play and more than enough room for Nerf to live his best life. Milena looked at Jeff and frowned her eyes tearing a little, she was glad that David had stepped away from them to take a call. “What’s wrong baby?” He asks concerned cupping her cheeks. She sighs and wipes her eyes shaking her eyes, it takes her a minute to compose herself so she can answer him, she clears her throat before talking. “I just love this house and all I can picture is our lives here together, growing our family, having our friends and family here.” She sighs and bites her lip. “I just don’t think we can afford this Jeff.” Jeff smiles a little and kisses her forehead pulling her into a hug careful not to squish Alethea. “I think we can figure something out; we’ll just have to run some numbers and budget a little when we get home before we can make a decision.” Milena nods and hands Alethea to Jeff before she heads back inside to look around a little more. David comes back to Jeff and looks confused. “You guys okay?” He asks and Jeff shrugs. “I knew I shouldn’t have brought her here. I knew she was going to love this place and we wouldn’t be able to afford it, it’s not fair to her.” David frowns and nods. Soon after they leave and head back to the apartment, Alethea goes down for her nap and Jeff and Milena sit down and go through their budget and work through their numbers to see what they can swing.  

Later that week Jeff and Milena go to David’s house, Milena’s mom begged her to bring Alethea to her house so she could spend the day with her and it worked out perfectly because David told Jeff they needed to come by the house today and ‘stop being antisocial.’ This of course made them laugh and head right over. Milena and Jeff had talked it out and decided that it would be best for them to just rent another apartment or house once their lease was up in the next few weeks instead of buying the house, they just couldn’t swing the down payment right now while Alethea was so little. As the couple walked into David’s they were greeted with happy faces and Milena got some hugs from her friends who she hadn’t seen since before they went to New York. They all sat around and talked for a while catching up on how their trip went and what Jeff’s parent’s thought of Milena and Alethea. Mariah and Carly gushed over how cute Alethea was when she was with Jeff looking at the houses, how she was such a good girl for him and barely made a peep. “Unless she was giving me some input on the houses of course.” David adds to the conversation making the girls giggle and nod. “True, she's a natural interior decorator.” Carly teases making David chuckle. They’re there for about an hour when David is making an excuse for Milena and Jeff to join him in the Tesla in the driveway, Milena looks at Jeff confused when David is propping his camera up on the dashboard. Jeff shrugs and shakes his head watching David from the backseat. “Roll with it.” Jeff says making Milena shrug and giggle. Once David has the camera set up, he's turning his attention to Milena in the passenger seat next to him. “So how did you like the house the other day?” David asks making Jeff frown from the backseat and Milena smiles at David trying not to show how upset she was that they couldn’t get it. “I loved it, it’s beautiful.” She said simply, David nods and smirks a little. “Yeah it’s perfect for you guys.” He says looking back at Jeff briefly who’s looking at David trying to figure out where he’s going with this. Milena frowns a little and shrugs. “It just wasn’t meant to be, maybe one day.” She says trying to smile. David shakes his head and pulls something from the side of his seat. “Well, that house is too perfect for you guys for you not to buy it.” He says before handing something to Milena. “So, I'm going to pay for half of it.” David says and Milena’s eyes dart from David to the blank check in her hand. “It’s already signed you guys just have to fill out the amount.” Milena doesn’t realize it, but tears are practically pouring down her face and she’s almost sobbing. “Dave... we can’t take this.” She says begging him to take the check back. Jeff is in complete shock in the back seat, he reaches forward and wraps his arms around David hugging him tight. “No, I really want to do this for you guys, you deserve it. I want you guys to have a place to raise Alethea and grow your family.” David says tears streaming down his face too. Once Jeff lets go of David, Milena is wrapping her arms around David and sobbing into his chest. “Thank you, David. This means more to me then you’ll ever know!” She cries and David smiles wide hugging her back wiping his own tears away.  

And just like that a few weeks later they are moving their stuff into their dream house, their friends were all there helping them move their stuff in and the girls helped watch Alethea so Milena could guide the guys where to put certain things. They obviously didn’t have enough furniture to fully furnish the house, but they would soon, Milena has been going a little crazy furniture shopping. They of course filming an empty house tour once they got the keys to the house because her supporters would kill them if they didn’t. 

Alethea was completely in love with the house, she also loved the fact that Jeff was now around 24/7; he practically lived at her apartment with them but he had to go back to film his videos so she would miss him when he was gone for hours. Jeff had done the whole downstairs as the barbershop so now he had his own area for the videos, and he could film whenever he needed to and not have to worry about waking up Alethea since she would be on the second floor along with their bedroom. Milena excused herself from her friends and went outside onto the patio calling in and ordering some pizzas for everyone and sent Todd out to go and pick up some beers and drinks for everyone. Thankfully the first thing to get delivered was their patio furniture, she was so glad so they could at least have something for everyone to relax on today since it was such a beautiful day outside.  

Soon Todd is walking through the front door with arms full of cases of beer and some sodas with the pizza guy right behind him. “Lena!!!” He calls and nods to the delivery guy telling him to follow him. Milena comes downstairs and giggles seeing Todd place everything on the counter, she smiles at the delivery man and takes the pizzas from his arms putting them on the counter and grabs the money from her purse handing it to him and telling him to keep the change. She guides him out the door and closes it behind him. She goes upstairs to wrangle everyone in. “Hey guys! That’s good for today, there’s pizza, beer and soda downstairs.” The guys cheer and follow her downstairs, Jeff wraps his arms around her waist kissing her cheeks. “You’re the best.” He says making her giggle, she puts out paper plates and some solo cups. Milena takes Alethea from the girls and tells them to go eat before the guys eat everything. Everyone goes outside sitting around on the patio furniture, Jeff brings Alethea’s highchair outside and sits it next to her so she can feed her. Milena breaks a piece of pizza into very small pieces for her to pick up and eat and sets her water sippy on the tray as well.  

“Milena this house is amazing, I can’t wait to see how you decorate it.” Erin says and Milena smiles wide. “Thank you, I have so many things up my sleeve.” Milena says making Jeff chuckle, “The delivery guy is going to know our first names by the time the house if furnished.” She giggles and shoves him playfully. She turns back to Alethea picking up a small bite and feeding it to her. They sat like this for hours, goofing around, filming and just hanging out. Thankfully everything they had for their bedroom and Alethea’s were going to pretty much stay the same and the important things were set up and put together. Soon Alethea is wining and reaching for Jeff with sleepy eyes, Milena kisses her head and hands her to Jeff, he’s standing talking to Todd and Jason as he holds a very sleepy Alethea to his chest, she nuzzles into his neck and her hands play with his beard as usual. He sways back and forth as he continues talking to his friends, Jason smirks watching Jeff hold Alethea close and she's falling asleep fairly quickly. Jason’s so happy seeing Jeff and Alethea together it warmed his heart seeing his friend turn into such a sweetheart with her and practically fall into the father roll like a natural. After about 10 minutes Milena looked over and smiles seeing Alethea fast asleep on Jeff’s shoulder, she excused herself from her friends and made her way to Jeff who was still talking to Todd and Jeff. “I’ll take her.” She says slowly talking Alethea from Jeff’s arms trying to keep her asleep. She made her way inside and upstairs to her new nursery. She laid her on the changing table and changed her diaper and changed her into some pajamas somehow without waking her up. Once she was laid in her crib and fast asleep, she turned on her sound machine and turned on her baby monitor camera and bringing the monitor downstairs with her.  

Once Milena was back outside, she turned up the volume on the monitor and set it on the table in front of her when she sat back down with the girls. They all talked for a while about random things and goofed around a little while the guys talked by the pool and Jeff explained a few plans they had for the yard. Everyone hung around for a few more hours before they slowly started filtering out, Jeff and Milena thanked them for their help today. Jeff was walking out Todd who was the last person to leave and Milena started cleaning up, she picked up empty bottles from the outside patio along with paper plates and threw them into the trash. Jeff came into the kitchen where she was packing up the leftover pizza to put into the fridge, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kisses slowly from her ear to her shoulder making her tilt her head to the side and smirk. “That was fun right?” She asks trying to focus on packing up the food and not the tingles that Jeff is sending right between her legs as his lips tease her skin. “Mhm.” he hums not paying much attention to what she's saying making her giggle. Once she’s done packing it all she turns around to face him wrapping her arms around his neck. “Did you hear what I said?” She teases and he looks down at her and chuckles. “Yes of course I did baby. I just am a bit distracted by this hot babe that’s in my kitchen.” Jeff teases back before his lips are attached to her neck again. “I can tell.” she hums leaning into him and closing her eyes. Jeff grabs her hips and lifts her effortlessly onto the kitchen island and stands between her legs, Milena giggles and looks at him biting her lip. Jeff cupped her cheeks kissing her lovingly. “God, I love you so damn much Milena.” He mumbles against her lips making her smile wide, “I love you Jeffery.” She says kissing him a few more times. Soon Jeff his lifting her dress off her legs and kneeling between her legs, he kisses her thighs lovingly until he's hovering over her slick panties, he pushes them to the side and looks up at Milena who is looking down at him biting her lip her eyes practically begging him to touch her.  

Milena runs her fingers through Jeff’s hair as she looks down at him waiting for him to make a move, the suspense was killing her. As if he could read her mind, he buried his face between her sweet thighs that he loves so much, his tongue swiped through her soaking wet folds before his lips attach onto her clit sucking and rolling his tongue around her clit. Milena holds onto his hair and throws her head back moaning into the echo of their practically empty house, Jeff hums happily against her clit sending vibrations through her making her jolt against him and almost come undone right there. He slips two fingers into her curling them up, his tongue circles around her clit making her pull his hair and squirm. “Jeff.” She whimpers and he smirks against her pulling away slightly. “I know baby, cum.” He says before attacking her clit again, and on que she's coming undone on his fingers, she throws her head back moaning his name, she bites her bottom lip hard trying to keep herself quiet. Jeffs fingers continue working on her helping her ride out her high, soon her legs are shaking, and snapping shut and she’s trying to squirm out of his grasp. He slowly removes his fingers and brings them to his lips sucking them clean before kissing her lips. Milena smiles against his lips wrapping her arms around his neck, he wraps his arms around her waist and picks her up off the island carrying her up the stairs to their bedroom. Milena buries her face into his neck and giggles as he makes his ways to their bedroom, he closes the door behind them and places her gently on the bed. “Clothes off pretty girl.” He says his voice deep eyes scanning over her as he strips himself of his clothes. She smirks and bites her lip as she pulls her dress over her head tossing it on the floor and then pulls off her panties tossing them to Jeff before laying back on their bed. Jeff catches them and looks at her with his eyebrows raised, he chuckles and tosses them onto the floor before climbing on top of her. His lips attack her neck as he lines himself up with her, he teases her slowly rubbing his tip between her folds making her squirm and moan. He smirks against her skin before slipping into her slowly. Milena moans softly burying her face into his neck trying to muffle her moans as he thrusts in and out of her keeping his pace steady.  Jeff groans against her ear before leaning back and putting her legs over his shoulders, his hands gripping her thighs tightly as he thrusts into her deeper his movements already becoming sloppy. He could’ve cum watching her cum on his face and fingers earlier, so it was no surprise that he was already close to his high. Milena arches her back grinding her hips along with his moaning loudly, Jeff smirks and reaches down to cover her mouth trying to keep her quiet, his other hand reaches between them and his fingers circle her still sensitive clit making her moan loudly against his hand. “I’m close baby.” He groans snapping his hips against hers faster, Milena nods looking up at him with pleading eyes. He feels her tighten around him as he grinds against her hitting all the right spots, before he knows it Jeff is releasing inside of her snapping his hips roughly and she’s following right behind him her fingers gripping the sheets tightly between her fingers. Jeff helps her ride out her high before he’s collapsing on top of her trying to catch his breath.  

It’s a few minutes later when he’s pulling out of her slowly and lying next to her, he runs his fingers through his damp hair. “I think that was a perfect way to end the first day in the new house.” Milena whispers turning onto her side to face Jeff, he chuckles and looks at her. “I think I agree.” He says smirking. Once Milena can trust her legs again, she climbs out of bed after pecking Jeff on the lips. “I’m gonna shower.” she whispers, and he nods smiling. “I’ll finish cleaning downstairs.” He says kissing her again. Once Jeff is finished cleaning up after their friends, he makes sure all the doors are locked and closes the windows in the kitchen and living room. He brings the baby monitor that is long dead upstairs, before he goes into their bedroom, he cracks open Alethea’s nursery door and peaks his head in trying to be as quiet as possible. He smiles wide seeing that she is still fast asleep in her crib, he was worried that she would have trouble adjusting to being in the new house but she was actually still asleep and usually by now she would have woken up at least once. He closes the door slowly making sure not to wake her as he does. When Jeff walks back into their bedroom and smirks seeing Milena pulling one of his t shirts over her head, “She’s still fast asleep.” Jeff tells her before pulling in the baby monitor on Milena’s side of the bed. “Really? Wow.” Milena says before slipping into the bed under the warm blankets, she quickly braided her still wet hair before laying down and nuzzling into the pillow. She looks up at Jeff and reaches her hands out for him. “J.” She wines as he strips down to his boxers chuckling. “I’m coming Lena.” He says smirking before crawling into bed next to her, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his chest holding her close. “Welcome home beautiful.” He whispers into her head before kissing the top of her head. Milena smiles wide and nuzzles further into his chest. “I love you.” She whispers only falling asleep when he whispers it back.  

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part 3 (The Great Mini series)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader

Word Count: 8K (more on the thicc side. So be ready)

Summary: You are bethrothed to the Russian Count Grigor Dymov in order to secure an alliance for your family and people with Russia from breaking. The day has finally arrived, your wedding day and night and all that entails

Part One//Part Two

Smut Scene for this Part (18+ only please)

Warnings:  Typos!!!! mentions of sex, marriage, family, swearing, dogs, Emperor Peter being Emperor Peter, drinking, drunkenness, weddings, and religion. The fear of rape is briefly discussed.

A/N: It’s finally here! Yay for wedding fics! For a few notes, I based the wedding ceremony from Russian Orthodox practices (since that is the religion obviously in the show of the court) so if I get something wrong about anything sacred, please drag me gently. Second, the gift mentioned in the middle part is, fun fact! An actual historical practice between couples! (I just though it would enhance the story). And third, I decided not to include a smut scene for those reading this fic underage...that part will be worked on and published separately. Fourth, I am thrilled and overwhelmed with all of the love shown for this miniseries. I am having a ball writing it! Enjoy!

Russian Wedding ceremonies were making your head turn. Already there were so many things to do you wondered if you could remember them by tomorrow. And this was the only rehearsal you had.

The tall priest, who you found out was called Archie, stood before you both. He practiced speaking a monotone blessing and made the sign of the cross over you.

“Next, you’ll be given candles…” he advised, waving his hands out.

Two men walked by to hand you both a candle (“for the ceremony, they will be lit, but they aren’t. So just be careful.”) You recognized that Arkady gave Grigor his candle and the bespectacled man you have seen greeting you when you entered handed you yours.

“Thank you…uhm…sorry, I’ve seen you around, but…” you asked.

“Count Orlo, Lady Y/L/N”, he greeted, with a polite nod.

“Thank you Orlo,” you muttered.

“Of course! Well, welcome to Russia! If you need any-”

Archie glared at Orlo icily until he scurried away, head ducked in embarrassment.

“Now let us continue…”

He said a line of scripture in a way that seemed mystical, close to ecstasy, his eyes closed and hands open to the sky. After a while, the droning lost its magic pull and became dull.

You and Grigor glanced at each other, making sure Archie wasn’t able to notice in all his holiness.

“We have to practice the puppy after this- would you like to see?” you whispered.

“I’d take watching paint dry over this, of course I want to see!” Grigor replied.

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“Just give her a bit of chicken,” Count Arkady advised.

You and Grigor nodded. You leaned down to stroke the fur of your little gift. She had trotted over cheerfully when either your or Grigor said “come,” prancing as if she was the one who owned the little apartment you and your mother were staying in. Arkady handed a gold bowl of cold, roast chicken meat that you tossed to the puppy every time she did as you said. Yout mother sat in a corner, silently watching everything, but present to make sure nothing inappropriate was going on.

“Very good…now, what is your little one’s name again? I can never remember,” he asked, politely ducking his head to sneeze into a handkerchief.

The puppy looked up at you and smiled.

“I’m calling her Sonya. It’s the Russian version of Sophie, our Empresses old name. And she was the first friend I met here. Besides, it’s a Russian name and she’s a Russian dog,” you explained.

“Very well, Sonya- sit!” Arkady ordered, his handkerchief falling delicately from his free hand.

He held up a small bite of roast chicken clear enough where she could see it. She sat again. He handed it over to you and you tossed it to the floor. Wagging her tail, she ate it up.

“Good girl, Sonya! Good girl!” you praised.

So far Sonya had not caused too much trouble. The servant for Grigor had often took her out to do business when she needed it. She did bark, chew on everything, and leave droppings on the floor sometimes. But the first night in your apartments, you had trouble sleeping in this strange new place. Little Sonya hopped up on the bed and curled up next to you as you laid awake. Her warmth and licking kisses on your face were welcome when your anxious mind was trying to make you awake. And soon you slept with her little body nestled on top of your stomach.

“Keep this up, and soon you will have a trained dog. The secret is to reward them every time they’re good and be careful with discipline,” Arkady advised.

Grigor nodded. He leaned down to pick up the Sonya and scratch her head. You could not help but notice that the party man Georgiana warned about had a kind smile to the little animal. Maybe she was exaggerating to scare you.

Arkady walked over to where a serf held up a laundry basket and got rid of his handkerchief.

“She hasn’t been a bother, I hope,” Grigor turned to ask, seeing how your teacher was distracted.

“You’ll soon find out…I’m joking, she has been fine. Energetic, but fine. Nothing out of normal for a puppy,” You answered.

Arkady took it to the next serf, advising him on kinds of ways it should be cooked for the notabilities’ dogs next time. The serf sighed and nodded before leaving. He turned around gracefully, clapping his hands, and rubbing them loudly.

“How are you both feeling!? You do know what is happening tomorrow…” he teased.

You could not forget. And you wanted to. The wedding was already tomorrow.

“Yes, well…we’ve already rehearsed the ceremony this morning and…we’ll…we’ll be ready!” Grigor said.

“The candles? The crown? Hopefully, you are prepared to kiss in front of all of court, they’ll ask for that! My Tatyana and I kissed fifty times at ours!” Arkady added on sheepishly.

You put your hand to your face to hide it in embarrassment. The days past mostly consisted of eating at small dinners and teas at least with you, sometimes Grigor, and your mother or walking through the gardens with some small talk between the three of you. His arm was offered for you to hold when you walked together. But that was the most of touching you both had done. Those and the chaste, formal kisses on the cheek or hand.

“We’ll be ready, for everything,” Grigor answered.

He went over to look at you, eyebrows furrowed in slight worry at your silence. You felt a slight dizziness from how soon everything would be

Arkady dismissed himself and left, and your mother got up from her seat in the corner to see him out. You turned to Grigor, face feeling warm.

“Are we ready to…to kiss in front of everyone? Perhaps we can make it work…”

Although you bit the inside of your cheek and folded your hands, eyes darting from the floor to his face and back again.

“I…I don’t think I am…” he said. “It’s been, uh, a little while.”

He was careful to not mention or talk about Georgiana unless prompted and you thanked your stars for that. It felt like being a mouse under the eye of a hungry hawk with her walking by in corridors.

“I know we can make this work, at least for everyone we know and the alliance,” you said. “Maybe we can…practice. At least for the ceremony.”

As your mother turned around to see you both chatting, Sonya went up to her, to greet her with a bark and a wag of her curling tail. Grigor stepped forward to her.

“Lady Y/L/N, can I have your consent to kiss Y/F/N? I’d like to do it before dinner, so I don’t reek of onions,” he offered.

Your mother looked at you both, then nodded.

“Alright, I don’t see why not. But no tongues.”

You turned to him, a little unsure of what to do. Your mother and Sonya watching closely.

“I don’t know what to do with my arms,” you confess.

He took both of your hands.

“We can just hold hands for now…” he advised.

“Then you have to lean forward, right?” you asked.

“Right.”

Leaning your face forward, you could make out the dust of freckles across his nose. He paused a little. You kept still. Then looking at each other’s eyes, he gave you a slight nod and both of you went in for a peck on the lips. It was so quick, so light, it was like gulping air.

Your hands immediately relaxed and let go. A rush of exhaling air left both of you.

“Alright, would you like me to ring for tea? After dinner, you both cannot see each other until after the ceremony,” your mother offered.

She scooped the puppy in her arms and carried her over one shoulder.

“That…that sounds nice,” he added.

“Shouldn’t you be with the Emperor? Weren’t you going to drink with him?” you ask.

“He can wait. Velementov might be with him.”

Once the tea set arrived and all of you had a sip, you all began to talk, and not just about what the weather was like. He made jokes and listened to your mother. He broke off part of a plain biscuit to feed it to Sonya. She even hopped up to the couch and slept beside him as he stroked her fur.

“Well, tomorrow’s the big day, I bet you’re tired of hearing that.” Your mother sighed, setting down her empty plate.

“But…I’m still jittery, I have to say,” you said, taking a last sip of your sweet tea.

Suddenly you looked at Grigor and he took his hand and wrapped it around yours. It wasn’t in the sweaty awkwardness of having to practice kissing, but it was dry, soft, and comforting.

“I’m jittery, too, I guess. But…if it helps Russia, we’ll do it,” he added. “Y/F/N is a brave woman to do this, and she has a gentle soul, the way I’ve seen her with little Sonya. I could do worse.”

Smiling lightly at him, you muttered a thanks. His hands heat was slowly becoming comforting. The shots of adrenaline from his touch were slowing down through you.

“And you Grigor…you’ll do, I guess,” you responded quietly.

The clock struck for the late afternoon. Grigor looked at it with wide eyes.

“Oh shi- no. We have a meeting with Archie about church laws and Peter wants me there until dinner. Can I leave?” he asked.

A part of you stifled a laugh from the suppressed swearing. At this point you were almost desensitized to it in the Russian court.

Your mother nodded, “you may.”

“And can I kiss your daughter one last time? I just want to be ready for the ceremony?” he asked in a hurry.

She nodded again, raising an eyebrow revealing her actual thoughts.

He leaned down and kissed you, putting in a little bit of pressure. And something…different. It did not feel like a polite kiss, or a practice kiss. It felt like a lover’s kiss. You closed your eyes, feeling it linger for just a bit. Then finally, he let go and said his farewells, leaving with a slight hop in his step.

It was as if a ghost on your lips was still there as he walked away. It was the nicest kiss you have had so far in your life.

Even before you went to bed to try to sleep before the big day with your mother in the other room, you found yourself tracing where it was.

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The next day, the hours dragged on throughout. You saw only your mother since the wedding would be in the early evening. You found yourself staring at the clock a lot, sweating with each tick of the hands. You wished you could run to Grigor and just vent about your worry, but your mother told you it was always bad luck before the ceremony.

And a marriage like this could use a little less bad luck you thought.

By two hours time before the ceremony would begin, Mariol arrived with the ribbons and decorations to start doing your hair.

“I’m here, the Empresses treat!” she announced, but waving her hands and shrugging as if it was the same dull task as sweeping. She held a wooden box under her arm.

“Oh, oh thank you! How splendid!” your mother said, taking your hand.

Mariol put the wooden box on your vanity and opened it, revealing feathers, pearls, and other little accessories.

“Want a bow?” she asked.

“Not for me,” you refused.

Selecting a white ribbon, you clicked your tongue for Sonya to trot to you. Leaning down, you tied it lightly around her neck with a bow in the back.

“She has to look her best too…”

“But she’s not the bride. Come on, Y/N…it is time we fix your hair. Not going to have walk down looking like a pigsty.”

All the twirls, tucks, and pins in the world managed to be shoved in your head by the time you were through. You wanted to groan, but when Mariol heard Sonya’s yapping, her pulling in became gentler and her head turned.

“There you go! And for a bit of makeup…”

“Can I hold Sonya as you do it?” you asked, turning from the vanity.

Mariol’s eyes went wide.

“Wha-yes! Please!”

Amidst the small dabbing of rouge, she cooed in a high voice at the little puppy, sniffing your face curiously. Your mother sat in the back, admiring Mariol’s work and nodding in admiration, with a little compliment here or there.

But you could hardly breathe your response to the face you saw in the mirror when there was a knock on the door.

Sonya leaped from your lap and trailed Mariol as she opened the door. A familiar face poked his head in.

“Hello Y/N!” you father announced, putting away his tri-cornered hat.

With somewhat of a scream you and your mother both ran up to him. Behind him walked in your brother in a nice emerald suit and his new wife in a pretty golden dress.

You called their names and embraced all of them, fighting the urge to cry.

“What…what are you doing here? I didn’t know I would even see any of you again!” you asked.

“We managed to receive lodging near…we didn’t want to miss your wedding!” your brother said, leaning in for another hug.

Sonya yipped and jumped before your sister’s wife. She leaned down and petted her.

“Oh, when did you get this precious thing?” she asked.

You put Sonya into your arms and held the dog before everyone.

“She was a gift from Grigor,” you explain.

“Your…your fiancee?” your brother asked, eyebrows raised up.

“Yes! He…he’s nothing like…like you know who. He’s a good man. In spite all of this…” you explained, getting a little dizzy at the thought of being bound to him until death in an hour.

“But, what of the emperor? He approved?” your mother asked

“I spoke with him yesterday and asked to attend, at least I wanted to walk you down, and he agreed,” he answered. 

He walked over to Sonya to feel the top of her head as well.

“We didn’t want to miss it either,” your brother chimed in.

“Well, we’re about to dress her. So, the men better head out. The ceremony is in an hour!” Mariol interrupted, she brushed her arms to shoo your father and brother away

Your mother leaned into your father.

“This palace is the size of the moon-you don’t know the way to the chapel!” she retorted she placed her hands on her hip.

She was wearing a blueish-green dress with only a few embellishments of lace here and there, along with a large lace fan that befitted the mother of the bride. You had to admire her. For a woman who never insisted she was beautiful and would call herself the reverse, this look proved the thought wrong.

“I thought I’d follow you! Just let me give her away! Please!”

She batted him lightly and shooed the men away.

With a gulp you let Mariol remove the buttons of your light day dress and set it away. With stays tied on and panniers attached, only the dress needed to be put on now. Then the gown waiting in your chest met its long-awaited fate.

She slipped it over your head. After a few touches to your already done makeup and hair, a few minutes passed in awed quietness. Your father and brother walked back in, astonished. Giving one of a dozen “you’re beautiful” compliments until you found yourself believing them too. They noted how elaborate the lace went along the opening of the skirt. That there were a few small pearls and jewels in the skirt here and there, especially with your pearl necklace, earrings, and a wedding veil attached to the top of your head. Mariol let the long lines of the veil fall over your face. The world you saw was now covered in a thin layer of white.

“You’re absolutely stunning, Y/N. No matter what happens after this, know that I love you,” your mother said, embracing you one last time.

It warmed your heart. A little. Even though the nerves still shot up your arms.

The hour struck six o clock. The door opened outside to see all of court looking at you.

There were a few murmurs of appreciation. You chose a nice white with faint hints of silver in a shade that was flattering to your skin. Little details-barely beads, but shinier- sparkled in the light. (you heard that Russian ladies were elaborate in dress and your visit and observations here were proven right).

Mother walking forward, you took your fathers arm and you headed through the palace. Your brother and his wife walked behind, walking Sonya on a small leash. Your view of the palace was blocked a little bit and you were glad of the guidance of your parents. Eyes and countless wigs turned as you both walked past.

At last you reached the chapel doors, full of gold and with saints gently looking down before you. There standing was Grigor and Emperor Peter, decked in cravats and with Peter wearing every medal on his coat you could count.

Grigor wore a wig that you could still smell the powder from. His coat was richly colored in a dark blue. He looked very striking and he turned to face you. There was a slight smile and he blinked rapidly.

Your father handed you to Grigor, and you took his hand. You both took one step into the chapel and paused as you saw the elaborate art and statues that covered the walls. Paintings of saints staring down between rows where even more courtiers sat to watch. You recognized Catherine and Georgiana from a brief glimpse. But you forced your eyes to stay on the black robes and beard of Archie at the altar.

Orlo and Arkady scurried forward with now lit candles. You nodded a thank you to Orlo who nodded back. You were both given a lighted candles and multiple prayers were said before and several bits of scripture. Then came the time to share the cup. The candles were set aside for now. Archie motioned to Grigor and he lifted your veil gently.

You looked up at him with…well, you did not know. And you could not describe the way he looked at you. It was soft, sweet, with reverence. Your eyes were beginning to water a little bit. But why were you crying? You liked Grigor, but…you were not sure how much. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, and everything seemed like a dream.

You both shared a cup of dry communal wine, and then Archie took a long golden piece of cloth, wrapping it around your joined hands.

Taking in a deep breath, Grigor began the vows, but he looked right at your eyes.

“I take you as my wife to be with you always-in wealth and in poverty, in disease and in health, in happiness and in grief, from this day until death separates us.”

He seemed like he meant it. It took you aback. You almost forgot your own vows but repeated them, albeit in a soft, shaky voice.

The vows said, Arkady and Orlo walked forward with two gold crowns that were placed on your heads in front of everyone watching. You both walked around the area of the altar in a circle. The cloth still tied with your hands together. Grigor and you took slow, careful steps.

Once the cloth was removed you were both given rings placed on each other’s fingers. but Grigor’s hands were gentle as he slipped the band into your finger. A tiny diamond sparkled in its center.

Archie read a last piece of scripture- a long and extremely dry one for a wedding. Breathing in a bit, you turned your head to look up at Grigor. His eyes shining and his mouth a little open.

He turned to look back at you and gave you another smile. A beautiful one. And this time you smiled back. For a few seconds you forgot the dreaded day you both signed that contract a month ago.

A final benediction was placed, and Archie finished. The crowns were removed from your heads. He made the sign of the cross over both of you and then turned to the crowd watching.

“Welcome to our court, the Count and Countess Dymov. Count Dymov, you may kiss the bride.”

As practiced, you both tilted your heads, leaned forward, and kissed. There was a slight spark to it and almost felt his free hand wander to your back to press you tighter.

It was done. Your family’s future, your people, and the alliance were safe. Part of you let out a small breath and looked over to your family with a knowing look, until you felt Grigor nudge you and you both walked out. 

There was uproarious applause. The emperor was smug but Catherine beside him looked genuinely happy. She was dressed in a light yellow that made her seem a flower among all these over the top wigs and laces. Your brother and his wife clapped with the sweetest smiles on their faces. But the same could not be said of Georgiana, dressed in deep orange with the mark of a heart on her cheek and giving you a glare every time your eyes accidentally wandered to hers.

Both of you walked through the halls, hand in hand, among more applause and a few tossing of flower petals. You turned and he kissed your lips lightly.

“I’m not an eloquent man but you look like a fucking snowdrop with all this gold in the palace,” he whispered.

You stuttered, still grasping  his hand, “th-thank you. You look very handsome as well.”

He let out a little smile as you both walked to a smaller room. A few trusted courtiers put a piece of parchment on a desk before you two. Both of you signed the marriage contract and waited for a serf to summon you to the dining room where the celebration would commence along with the dinner.

As the contract was rolled up by an old man as round as a peach (it may have been Velementov, Grigor taught you so many names it was hard to remember) and brought away, both of you were alone for a few minutes. There was an odd silence, then you turned to him.

“Grigor, I know you have had your heart broken recently and…I want to tell you, I’ll try to be a good wife to you. As possible. I’ll try to be understanding and I… won’t hurt you. Because I know how hard being hurt for you was. I might make mistakes, but I don’t want to hurt you,” you confided.

He shook his head a little.

“I don’t want to hurt you either…”

But speaking of hurt, there was the unspoken ghost in all this wedding talk that needed to be addressed. The one event you secretly dreaded the most. Clutching his arm and turning to him, you tried to think of a way to say it now that you were alone.

“Grigor…” you began, “Now we’re alone, we can talk. For…for uh, tonight, uhm…uh, I…”

You did not get to finish before a serf ran in. Without warning, he half pushed the both of you out. The Emperor and what seemed half of court was seated in the dining room. There was a flurry of huzzahs.

Emperor Peter jumped over the table, knocking over plates and silverware. You leaned out of the way of his flurrying and grabbed Grigor by the shoulder, with a pat on him. You took your seat close to the front and he made his way to your side. Peter leaned back in his chair which was always in the center. No matter what event was going on.

“Well, Grigor- you got yourself a girl at last! hope she gets every penny worth from you tonight!” he bellowed.

“Every penny worth?” you repeated.

He looked at you with a toothy smile and gulped down half of his wine.

“Oh, you should know! The Morgengabe! The Morning’s gift!” he cheered.

A serf poured you water and wine separately to begin with and a few musicians started playing, getting louder and louder.

“That what?” you asked over them.

“The morning, Gift. Its a German idea. Grigor, your wife is a bit of a dolt. At least her tits are decent,” he said.

“What’s the Morning’s gift?” you questioned.

Food began to be served on your plate, but your appetite was starting to decrease. You had a terrible guess at what it referred to. And you had to be sure it was right.

“It’s…uhm…” Grigor began, then he took a deep breath and turned to you, speaking so that you could understand every word.

“After we signed the contract when we were betrothed, there was a word between me, Peter, and your father. The dowry itself was covered. You’re not entering this union as a pauper and should you become a widow, you will have financial protection but…we all had to be sure the marriage was…”

He bit his lips, took in a breath, and continued.

“I gave over some money as promised by your father. It’s being kept with me. That money will be given to you the morning after the marriage is…uh, consummated. That way the alliance will be totally secure. Your family and Peter will know you weren’t just being thrown into a sham marriage that would make the contract weak. If it wasn’t complete, the alliance wouldn’t go through.”

“And the sooner the better!” Peter added, sticking his head between the two of you.

He looked at you and wiggled his eyebrows bawdily with a swirl of his goblet.

“I may just, you know- destroy your home country and chop off your family’s heads just for fun tomorrow because you haven’t fucked your husband!”

He leaned down to see your shocked expression and laughed.

“Well, money and a large cock, you have a lot to look forward to! Huzzah! Now where’s the vodka?”

As he gestured serfs forth to pour vodka into his goblet, you looked over at Grigor.

He took your hand and squeezed it.

“That’s the way it is?” You sighed.

“That’s the way it is here.” He confirmed, noting the worry on your face.

More guests came in. By the dozens. You could hardly even eat a bite or sip some wine or water because they kept wanting to talk to you. You were gladdened by your family and the few you were familiar with.

Then Orlo walked forward. Under his arms were a few books.

“Oh, here he comes again!” Grigor dismissed, rolling his eyes.

You lightly touched his arm, “no, let him speak!”

Orlo gave a slight bow in greeting.

“Why, hello there, Count and Countess Dymov! I’m here because I just wanted to give you a wedding gift…can you read, Countess?”

“I can,” you confirmed.

He handed you each two books.

“It’s mythologies, fairy tales…childish things. But since you are new here, you might find it entertaining to learn a little bit more about our culture. And so might Grigor.”

Grigor flipped through a few pages. He rested on one of a young girl walking through a forest with a branch that had a skull lit with a fire.

“Well, why read about an adventure when you can live it!” Grigor explained.

But you took the books gently and smiled at him.

“That’s very generous of you, Count Orlo! I’m sure my husband…” it was a new word with a taste as strange as their wine… “he would rather I read these to him for his entertainment than annoy him all day,” you teased, leaning over to look at the pictures as well.

“No, I don’t think you could! You’re not the type to annoy, Y/N” he replied. He smiled as he accepted a glass of vodka.

He nudged you and then hissed, “this is our tradition- watch!”

He stood up, but took your hand for you to stand up with him. Heads turned and noise was softened.

“To my new wife! And to my marriage! Huzzah!”

They all yelled “huzzah” back and you felt as if you could glow.

But he downed his vodka and threw his glass on the floor in a swift movement. The other members of court followed suit. There was a splatter of shattering glass like that of hail drops.

Occasionally there were yelps for a kiss. As if being actors on cue, you and Grigor would peck each others lips to their cheers. But not as many as Arkady said would happen.

As your family walked forward to hand you your dog, they had to tiptoe past broken glass as carefully as possible with lifted skirts and on their toes. Empress Catherine even walked from by her husband side to offer you congrats.

“You look very lovely and the ceremony was simple…”

“Oh, we only had a week to…”

“Oh no! I love simple ceremonies! Simple everything! They just mean more! And…are those books? You can read?”

“Yes, a wedding present from Orlo!” you nodded.

Both of you looked over the pages and stories, Catherine filling in with what she knew as you took bites of your dinner with relief. Serfs scurried with brooms to clean up the broken glass. A few dances were thrown and mingling was allowed. Knowing it was safe, you put Sonya in your arms and walked around.

Soon she barked and leaned forward, jumping out. She scurried, catching a bit of a dusky orange dress and chewing it with such passion, she shook it back and forth in her mouth with joy.

“Stop that!” the dress owner cried.

“Hey!” you cried, but right as you leaned down to stop her you recognized whose it was. And you froze with horror.

Georgiana looked as if she could see red as she analyzed you. Sonya panted happily in your arms, but you leaned away from her, as if to shield the creature from anything the Emperor’s mistress might do.

There was a solo violin striking up (Peter attempted to play).

“Well, look at you!” she said with a huff. She seemed only somewhat sad.

“Mademoiselle,” you acknowledged, head down in a curtsy. “Please, do not think me your enemy.”

“You are no threat to me.”

“No, how could I be? You are only our beloved Emperor's favorite. You hold so much prestige here. The ladies all prattle on how envious they are of you. I’ve heard them. I honor you, tremendously.” You started.

She looked at you straight in your eyes, expression unchanged from your words.

“You’re sweet. But so were your wedding cakes. And what do people with cakes? They chew them up into tiny pieces until they spit it out or ingest it until it’s nothing,” she spat.

“If you hurt me or my dog or my family, I will tell my husband about it. I am under the protection of the Dymov house.”

“And I am under the protection of the Emperor.” She replied.

The violin picked up and the Emperor called for a dance.

“Forget it. Let’s move past being like this. I’m not in love with Grigor. I’m only following my family’s orders.”

“That’s not what I see when you kiss him,” she finished as she strutted away.

The Emperor lead a brief speech for Grigor’s honor and to congratulate the marriage and the alliance it entailed. But your husband was having another sip of vodka, face flushing. As you returned to your seat he pulled you close.

“No, no, no…sit here, wifey,” he suggested. He put his hands on your waist and pulled you with immense strength over to his seat to sit on his lap.

You squealed at the closeness, feeling his breath and the outline of his body against yours. But he wrapped arms around you, beginning to kiss your cheek.

“Here, have some of these cakes, darling,” he offered, handing you one of the hundreds of small wedding cakes served for dessert.

Taking a bite, you could make out the density and the perfect amount of sweetness and flavoring.

“They’re…they’re scrumptious! Who made them?”

“Hmm, maybe the cooks. I just wanted to see your reaction to them,” he answered.

His pulled you a little closer, nuzzling into your head, neck, and shoulder area.

“My sweet wifey is soooo cute when she’s sooo happy!”

“Are you sure that isn’t the vodka talking, Grigor?” you retorted cheerfully, noting his glass.

He looked at you. Although his eyes were dilated from drink, he wasn’t a lost cause, at least not yet.

“If I’m not passed out on the floor, Y/N, I’m not drunk!” before taking another sip.

After a little bit longer, there were more songs. He was sobering some, the vodka wearing off as you offered him some water. He drank it as you stayed on his lap.

The songs were getting slower. Plates were clearing. And guests were drifting away. You balled your hands into fists and grabbed the skirt of your gown, trying to slow your breathing.

Your brother, sister-in-law and father excused themselves to take Sonya’s leash and lead her to Grigor’s apartments.

Oh, they’re our apartments now you silently corrected yourself.

Catherine and your mother came by. Grigor perked up and gently led you off of him.

“Y/N, Catherine offered to be with you when we lead you there,” your mother began.

Thanking with a curtsy, you left Grigor and followed them slightly behind to Dymov’s room. But looking behind, you admired Catherine glancing back at you with a smile and making small talk to her about books. She seemed so young despite the grandeur of her title. It was like she was just a friend of yours attending your big day.

They walked you over to the Dymov apartment. It seemed ominous with it’s red and the nighttime darkening everything thought the windows. The little dog barked and skipped in happiness when you walked in.

“Hello Sonya!” you said.

She wiggled her tail in greeting, little fuzz ball. Mariol walked forward, smiling. She seemed to look lighter and happier, spending time with little Sonya.

Your mother and Catherine unbuttoned you and pulled you dress over your head and removed the rolls from your hips. Mariol began to unlace your stays from behind.

“I…I’m so nervous I can hardly even think!” you confessed.

“Y/N, you have nothing to fear, really.” Catherine assured.

“It will be fine,” your mother assured, taking your hand.

“But…what if he…he hurts me. What if he…he rapes me. I’ve heard about that happening on wedding nights and…that’s what scares me the most.”

Catherine took your shoulder and squeezed it.

“You can tell me, and I’ll punish him. The Emperor won’t know and if you’re in danger, you can run to me. Wake me up in my chambers. I don’t care.”

“Does it…hurt when it happens?” you ask.

“When you’re new, sometimes. Especially when they are more...enthusiastic. But just a little. And not everyone feels pain the first time.” Your mother informed you.

Stays removed, Mariol began to undo your hair and wipe off what makeup was there with a cloth. You felt your hair fall down. Part of you wanted a blanket or a robe. You were in the Empress’s presence with only a shift on.

“What if I can’t…please him?” you asked.

Georgiana’s voice from earlier this week had haunted your mind considering tonight. If you did not perform well or even perform at all, you might be considered a failure to Grigor and even to your family, you feared. 

Yet, why did the thought of Grigor, no, your husband scorning you for his past lover make your stomach burn with envy?

“Don’t worry, it will be alright. Just tell him ‘no’ or ‘yes’, be firm and clear. You don’t have please him…just enjoy being with him, getting to know him,” your mother directed.

“It will be okay,” Catherine repeated. 

She guided your hand and you both sat on the edge of the bed. She grinned at you and you shyly smiled back.

A few minutes ticked by. Then male voices were right outside. Your heart leaped to your throat and you felt your legs freeze. Your hold on Catherine turned to a grip.

Then came the fateful sound.

There was a knock on the door.

The three of you jumped almost.

“Who is it?” Catherine asked.

“It’s Grigor, and the Emperor.”

Taking in a shaky breath, you said “you may come in.”

Grigor walked in next to Peter, who was flushed and stumbling a bit in his walk. Catherine handed you a deep green robe to wrap around yourself for a bit of modesty, seeing how embarrassed you already were at people seeing you in your shift. The three of you curtsied and the two men bowed, Peter staying low and then swaggering over to a chair. He flopped down on it, leg over an arm, and started blowing a little bird whistle.

You noticed Grigor was still in his wedding outfit and held a glass decanter of vodka and two large glasses

“Only a little while ago you were playing that,Grigor, when I was fucking the Empress on our wedding night, remember! Now we…we’ve fucking switched and now here we are!” Peter announced, blowing another shriek that erupted in spit across the floor.

Grigor walked forward and kissed your knuckles in greeting. It only struck you how handsome he was. He had a charming smile and the dark colors flattered him. He put an arm protectively over you and turned to the small group

“Thank you, everyone, it was a lovely ceremony,” he began.

“Count Dymov, do you need us to do anything?” your mother asked.

“No, mother,” he added, “and you may call me Grigor. For now, I hope you think of me as if I was a member of your family too.”

She grinned in return and addressed him by name.

“Phlah! Names shames,” Peter mocked, twirling the whistle with his fingers. Catherine looked at him with eyes wide and eyebrows down.

“How about we all have a toast to today!” Grigor announced, Holding up the decanter.

He handed a glass over to the emperor and then a glass between you both.

“I say our Emperor goes first, as our ruler and sovereign,” he suggested, pouring an extremely generous amount of vodka in the cup while giving his own only a dribble.

“I say yes! Hu—zaaaaah!” Peter cried, sucking up the vodka in a heartbeat. Grigor shared his glass with you so you could have a sip of the stuff before he finished it up.

Looking up at him, he gave you a glimmer in his eye. And you caught on.

“And let’s have a toast to the alliance! And our beloved Emperor for allowing it to happen. Huzzah!” you toasted, raising your glass.

On cue, Grigor poured another heap of vodka into Peter’s glass which he raised and swallowed down as if he were a thirsty beggar.

“Huzzzahhh f-for meeeeee,” Peter mumbled.

His face became even redder and he struggled to get out of his seat.

“Shit, w-why is everyone spinning! I order you to-to stay still!” he barked.

Everyone was already perfectly still. Catherine walked over and supported him over her shoulder.

“Let’s retire, shall we?”

“N-no! I want to…I want to watch G-G-Grigor f-f-f-uck her so I c-can…can have a good wank at it, a-at least, and m-m-maybe get my turntofuckher….ohmyfuckI’m going to vomit,” Peter announced. He ran out in a heartbeat and you heard him retch in the hallway outside.

And then the noise of his body falling on the floor.

“I will take him to his chambers,” Catherine offered.

Her eyes were alight and her pink lips tight from holding back laughter. Mariol placed an arm over her mouth as well and scurried out behind the empress. There were several footsteps and the huffing of serfs and you knew that Peter now had to be carried unconscious-and far away.

“I believe I must retire as well, good night,” your mother said.

They dismiss and leave. Now you were both alone. Your heart was racing, but you smiled and turned to Grigor in gratitude.

“That was brilliant.” You praised.

“I did have a feeling he’d want to do that. So I decided to do something about it. The vodka did get to me a little earlier,” he confessed. “But It’s worn up.”

You nodded, “yes, of course. I can tell.”

“Do you…need anything? Some water?”

“Of course.”

He walked over and got you a fresh glass poured from a crystalline pitcher. You washed away the bitter sting of vodka from your mouth and so did he. Both of you sat across from each other on the two chairs before the fire. At first all was quiet.

“Y/N…I know all of this had not happened the way we thought but…you have the support. My support. The Russian Crown. And my house and of the Dymov family, as well as our protection. You’re…you’re one of us now, it’s your right as a countess,” he promised.

I’m not Y/F/N Y/L/N anymore. I’m Y/F/N Dymov. You thought. Still unused to it.

“Thank you. I know I was quiet, but so much has been happening, today. I don’t know quite what to say,” you replied.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

You finished your water and he finished his. Another silence.

“You looked very handsome in your coat today, you’re a lovely man,” you complimented. He looked especially lovely with the fire’s glow against his face.

“Thank you, but I’m starting to get…a bit uncomfortable. May I take dress down to my shift?” he asked

“You may.”

He opened the door and brought the old man serf. The old man took away his shoes, stockings, coat, shirt, wig, and everything else, setting them away, until he was only in his shift and a pair of white breeches.

Though you stared away from him, focusing on the empty glass in your hand. He walked forward as soon as the old man set away the clothes and exited.

“Y/N…you’re tense. Are you…nervous?” he asked, kneeling down to be at your level.

You nodded, not even looking at him.

“Yes. I was scared you would…force yourself on me,” you voiced. “It’s what I was going to tell you earlier.”

He walked forward to you and put two of his hands on your shoulders, but not heavily.

“Y/N, I won’t do that…you can’t please a woman by forcing yourself on her and I…I didn’t want to displease you. I told you earlier, I don’t want to hurt you.” He reminded.

Your shoulders relaxed.

“I didn’t want to displease you either. Its just…I…I’ve never slept with anyone before. You’ve probably seen the file form the doctor we gave to Archie. There. The proof. And I…I’m just…I’m just nervous.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous as well,” he comforted.

You thought of the Morning gift, of your duty …but you noticed the outline of his body through the shift. And every time you found your eyes go to his face, they would go back to his body.

Your eyes noticed that the books from Orlo were on a desk in the corner.

“What about these?” you said.

Grigor brought them to you. You passed a bit of time flipping through them. The illustrations, even he admitted, were lovely. You both studied it, asking which tales he was familiar with, and what stories you knew of. The tiredness got to you slightly and as you both sat on the chair as he sat down beside you, you laid your head against his shoulder a little sleepily.

Sonya slept deeply in the corner. She laid down on a soft pillow, her belly full of roast chicken from the feast, and legs twitching as if chasing something. Then she woke up a bit and wandered over to the next room to sleep.

Grigor closed the book and raised your chin to meet his face.

“I think I’d like reading more if it was with you, can we…we move to bed? You seem a little tired,” he said.

“We can.”

Both of you settled into the sheets. You sighed at the warmth of the blankets over you.

“Russia’s every bit as cold as you said,” you jested

“Then can I hold you, to keep you warm…just to make you comfortable.”

“You can.”

He wrapped his arms around you. The fire cackled in the distance and you could make out a ticking clock somewhere else in the room. Both of you laid down on your sides, looking at each other. He felt nice compared to the cold air everywhere else in the apartment.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N? I guess for…for duty. Nothing else has to happen until you’re ready.”

“You can. For our duty.”

He kissed you passionately, deeply. Something inside you made you grab him. You didn’t feel like you wanted to push him away. It was a tight embrace. You liked kissing him. Kissing him had set you on fire, something in your was waking up suddenly. You put your arms around him to deepen it.

Then you let go. You were almost afraid of this wanting. You liked touching him, almost too much. You could notice the top of his shift moving around, showing a bit of his chest.

“Let me kiss you two more times, please…for the alliance’s sake.”

“I’ll let you,” you said.

He leaned down for the first one, but instinctively rolled on top of you. You gasped.

“I…I’m sorry…am I crushing you?” he asked, shrinking away.

“No…it just surprised me. It’s not bad…”

“I don’t know what came over me.”

Then you smiled, and there was a new voice coming out of you.

“That was still one kiss, though. You own me another one.”

He kissed you again. Your hand went to his chest, lightly touching it.

“I…I’ve seen statues, but I’ve never seen a man in only his shift before…” you admitted.

“You can explore, you can touch me” he smirked.

You hands explored his neck, his shoulders, and then began tracing his chest again, and one to his back.

“Grigor…it’s for Russia but…I want you to touch me…”

His head tilted and he blinked rapidly.

“To touch you?”

“I… I…I trust you…”

“Well, if it’s for business…I will.”

You began to trace him more and he let his hands wander over you as well. You traced his neck down to around his shoulder and arm, feeling how each place rose up and went down. When you got to his hands, you put each of your fingers into the crooks of his- hands interlaced. He moved from kissing your lips to your cheeks, and then your neck. It was new and strange, tingling. But you liked it too much to push it away. And when he shifted to be more on top of you-but not his full body-you liked it too much to not stop it either. And every time you felt a small touch or kiss end, you wanted more.

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

Once it was over, he rolled off, both of you lazily staring at the ceiling and catching your breath.

Then you looked at him with swollen lips, undone hair, and wide eyes. And he looked at you. 

You began to laugh. And he laughed too in tandem.

“I was terrified of that! What was I thinking!” you said, looking over at him. The previous fear had melted away.

“It’s always terrifying when you do it first, even with a new person. But…you’re…you’re good.” Grigor commented.

The air from around felt cold. The fire was dying down and who knew what hour it was. Your two shifts remained crumpled on the floor like ghostly puddles.

“Could you…could you hold me?” you asked coquettishly, leaning towards him.

“Hmm, let me think about that...”

“Please? It’s getting cold.” you added, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles.

He leaned over to pull you close. He felt very warm, and sweaty. But you did not mind.

“I…I think we might find a way for this to work…” he murmured.

“Yes, I…I agree.”

He pulled you into his chest. Your eyes saw the small hairs and the rise and fall of his breathing.

“I remember…when I would wake up in the morning, and…I’d hate it,” he recalled, looking up at the ceiling again.

“Why?” you ask.

Tracing his chest, drawing little figures into it. He let you rest your head on his arm. It was getting darker and darker, the candles in the room were dying and giving out bit by bit.

“I’d just feel…alone…” he confessed. He looked over to you, eyes a little dark from the memory.

“Not anymore, Grigor. I’ll make sure of it. You won’t be alone with me.”

It is quiet and peaceful. You both fall asleep deeply.

At one point you wake up briefly, only to see Grigor talking to the old man serf, but he turns to you and shushes.

“It’s early-get some more sleep, Y/N. It was a long day yesterday,” he whispers to you. You see some tiredness in his eyes as well.

You lay your head back down without a word. You fall back asleep.

The light of a later part of the morning fills up the flat when you open your eyes again. Turning around, Grigor is wearing his shift, but still, fast asleep. He must have woken up, put it on, and then drift back into dreaming.

Watching him for a while, it seems he won’t be waking for some time. Even though sunlight is coming out of the windows with the strong glare of mid-morning.

You pull on your shift and your old green robe, you move over to where a tray was set with complimentary coffee in a fancy porcelain set and certain pastries with a note of congratulations from someone’s Aunt Elisabeth or other. But before you can even pour a cup or try a crumb, something catches your eye.

There is an envelope on the tray and when you open it there is some money.

You had forgotten about the morning gift completely.

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