#I guess being a frequent customer comes with its perks

[awaytobeunshaken]

So by "most of the assembly" has thrown in with Ludinus they literally did mean "everyone but Astrid"

So of course when the shit hit the fan Caleb had to hide her in his favorite smut shop.

[bubble-tea-bunny]

dive into you

[bennett x reader]

author’s note: lil fic for bestest boy benny inspired by the song by nct dream and the summer season :’)

word count: 3,600

There’s a bakery opposite of Angel’s Share, just across the cobblestone road, and every morning the smell of freshly baked bread wafts from its open double doors, ready to welcome patrons and the crisp air of the early hours. Bennett has easily fallen into the routine of making this his first stop of the day. When he wakes, eyes slow to open and greeted by little squares of light on the ceiling of his bedroom from the sunlight shining through the window, he swears he can already smell that bread and the pastries and the care put into each one. He doesn’t often find it in him to be lazy, to be sluggish this early, for a new day was a new promise of adventure, and whether he’s swept along by the wind to the wilds or to the bakery, it’s an adventure all the same.

He always picks out food for his dads. He considers carefully what they might like to have (some prefer to have the same each time, others don’t mind the variety and like to be surprised), and carefully, slowly he fills the tray. Usually it isn’t busy during the time he’s there, but he doesn’t want to take risks as he holds it securely with both hands whenever he’s perusing the selection. Even if there were no people to bump into, with his luck, he might bump into one of the displays in the middle of the shop instead, consequence of paying more attention to the shelves against the wall where there are loaves baked into fun shapes like fish or crabs, rather than to what’s in front of him. He’d hate to drop everything on his tray and waste it.

Sometimes the bakery keeps the doors closed, and while uncommon, it’s nothing unusual. On these occasions, the entry of each customer is announced by the small bell jingling just overhead. It’s the only sound in the shop, ringing several times in the past ten minutes but it’s mere background noise, easily ignored, as Bennett absorbs himself in choosing what to buy today.

“Good morning!”

Bennett’s hand freezes just above a loaf of bread that looks like a bear and he glances behind him to the counter because the sound of your bubbly voice, conversely, is much more difficult to ignore. Though to be fair, to him, you’re no mere background noise.

You’re carrying a basket of more loaves just taken from the oven, half of them regularly shaped into circles and the other half like turtles, and grin at the customers who have just walked in. He watches you make your way over to a shelf several feet away from him to arrange the bread, and he stares long enough that you’ve taken notice. Your smile is bright and reaches your eyes, and he’s embarrassed to have been caught. His cheeks grow warm and you can probably see the dusting of red across his face, a speculation which doesn’t help alleviate this embarrassment one bit.

“Good morning, Bennett,” you greet him, more quietly since he’s closer.

He likes when you say his name, and it never fails to make his heart skip a beat and he stutters out an O-Oh, um… as if surprised that you’re talking to him, much less that you know who he is. It shouldn’t take him off guard that you know, considering how often he comes to the bakery, so he supposes it has more to do with the fact that he can’t believe his name should be spoken by a voice as gentle as yours, honeyed tones like the softly plucked notes of the Holy Lyre der Himmel.

Finally he musters an equally quiet Good morning in response, smiling back but he’s certain it looks more like a cringe, owed to his nerves. If it does, you don’t point it out, and simply return to your task. Only when another patron comes up to Bennett’s other side, muttering a pardon as they grab a loaf from the shelf he’s standing in front of, does he break his gaze from you. His hand that had been hovering above the bread that whole time he drops back down to his side, and he scoots to make room with another stutter and a sorry.

You’re back behind the counter when Bennett is ready to pay. The pile of bread, cake slices, sandwiches, and other miscellaneous pastries had in the past led you to ask him if these were snacks for the road, for you’d guessed him to be an adventurer doing commissions for the guild by the sword at his side. He’d chuckled and explained his actual purpose for buying as much as he did, and your grin had widened, and if he wasn’t imagining things, you’d been extra careful when packing every treat.

I’m sure they’ll really appreciate your gesture, you’d said. That’s sweet of you. And it’s not frequently that events in the course of his life run smoothly, but that day they had, and with no falter in his words he remarks it’s thanks to you, for you’re the reason there’s anything to bring back to his dads in the first place. You’d laughed and his chest tightened and he thinks that’s the point where he started to fall (to where, he hesitated to state exactly). But in any case, it was true—without you, there was no bakery filled to the brim with delicious food, and if he had anything to say about that, Mondstadt would be worse off for it.

This morning, Bennett is digging around his wallet for the appropriate amount of Mora while you pack what he’d picked out. Having gone through this process many times prior, he knows approximately how much it should cost.

“Ah—”

A few coins slip from his hand and clatter to the wooden floor, and he bends to pick them up. But on the way down, his head knocks into the tray that he neglected to push all the way onto the countertop, so part of it still stuck out. You blink in surprise at the jostling of the tray and his subsequent Ouch!, muffled because he’s obscured by the counter.

“Are you okay?” You sound genuinely worried, but to Bennett the accident had been no big deal. At least none of the food had fallen.

“Yeah,” he assures you. He’s still trying to gather up the stray Mora, fingers failing to get a proper grip on them and he huffs in slight exasperation. His face once more is burning from the embarrassment of being so clumsy. He’s clumsy around everyone, and it’s something he has long since come to accept, but it matters a lot more when it’s you.

Finally he stands back up, the money clutched in his fist victoriously. “Yeah!” he repeats now that you can hear him clearly. “It’s no big deal.”

For a second you don’t quite believe him, but it’s hard to argue with that smile on his face. There’s no pain he’s trying to hide (embarrassment, on the other hand, is a different issue entirely).

Upon handing him his package you tell him you’ll see him tomorrow and he feels sort of special because you don’t say it to anyone else. To others, you say Thank you, come again! but you know his routine and you know to expect him at the same time each morning. Judging by the look in your eyes and the sound of your voice when you see and greet him, you anticipate his visit every time, and his heart wants to soar out from the confines of his chest upon this realization and he is exhilarated. The wind and the new day have fulfilled their promise of an adventure, and the clock hasn’t even struck noon.

One day you’re a little distracted, focused on a paper in your hand as Bennett approaches the counter with his tray of baked goods. For the most part, your face gives nothing away, but then your brows furrow slightly, a subtle action he doesn’t miss, and he proceeds to ask if anything is wrong. He asks it kindly, keeps his tone neutral, wordlessly conveying that you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. He would hate to pry.

You purse your lips, pausing like you’re caught between saying yes and no. He waits patiently for whichever one it might be.

“I ran out of sugar and had been meaning to make more,” you start, opting to share with him what’s been troubling you.“I bought out Flora’s stock of sweet flowers but it wasn’t enough, so I may have to set aside time to pick more myself later.”

The mention of heading outside of the city makes Bennett perk up, for he never turns down a chance to go exploring. He’s about to offer to do it for you, but it’s the thought of possibly going with you instead that makes him hold back and rephrase his question.

“This afternoon?” he inquires, head tilting. You nod, and up until now he’d felt confident in the offer he was going to present, but then his nerves get the better of him and it doesn’t come out quite the way he was hoping. “I-I could go with you! You know, if you want! To protect you… Just in case…” He trails off and he wants to go hide in a hole. There are few other ways this could have gone worse.

You don’t answer right away, and he regrets having said anything at all, but your beautiful smile soon follows the silence and it sets his mind at ease, and you agree with a concise and cheery Sure! Well, at least the worst way this could have gone had not come to pass. It was the small victories for Bennett—just as important as the big ones. The next challenge would be to avoid making a fool of himself out there, in what should be his natural element; he does want to impress you. But that’s a big ask for someone like him…

Both of you agree to meet at the front gate in the late afternoon. By then, the traffic in the bakery is slow enough that you’re able to step away earlier than the normal closing time. You’ve changed into clothes more appropriate for walking around: in lieu of a dress, your typical work attire, you sport a tunic and trousers you don’t mind dirtying. The trousers are tailored to fit properly but the tunic is a tad big, the sleeves a bit too long, but Bennett thinks you look cute in it. A basket hangs on your forearm and you wave as you walk up to him.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” you say.

Bennett shakes his head. “Not long at all.” Technically the agreed upon meeting time was only five minutes ago, so you aren’t very late. Though he does refrain from sharing that he’d arrived early, in fear that he could end up late somehow and you would be the one who had to wait. Really, it’s been more like fifteen minutes for him, but he just keeps quiet about that.

One of the nice things about summer is that the sun sets later. There’s still a sufficient amount of light to illuminate the fields as you walk around in search of sweet flowers. At first, the extent of your conversation is discussing where you might be able to find a high concentration of them, then silence filled with the sifting of grass beneath your shoes and the occasional exclamation of having spotted a flower to be picked and tucked away in your basket.

Honestly, walking with you around the wilds of Mondstadt hadn’t been anywhere on Bennett’s list to do today, or any day really, not until he could muster the courage to invite you out like this, and who knew when that might be. Your need for sweet flowers had dropped the opportunity right into his lap, and thankfully he hadn’t squandered it. But now he’s at a loss as to what to talk about; he didn’t think he’d ever get this far.

Maybe you sense his struggle to come up with a topic of conversation because you’re the one to speak up, asking about his adventures and the commissions he takes. Done anything exciting recently?

Bennett’s eyes light up, a reaction which you can't help but smile at, and he regales you of the goings-on of his latest missions. He omits the instances where his clumsiness had made things more difficult (of which there were many), but each story is still truthful. Most of his commissions the past month hadn’t been anything too bold—after a mission that involved nearly getting himself trapped in a ruin due to solving a puzzle wrong then getting food poisoning on top of that from the snack he’d prepped that day, he’s been choosing jobs that he knows he’s more capable of.

To him, they aren’t too exciting, and in the larger scope of things, perhaps they aren’t, but you don’t seem to think that as you hang on each word. You’re absorbed in his story about trying to dismantle towers in a hilichurl camp, and gasp at the mention of their reinforcements coming to attack in the midst of it. Wow, you remark after he finishes his recounting of the event. You’re amazing, Bennett!

His heart does a flip again at the sound of his name and he shrugs offhandedly. He’s not inclined to think so, but your awed comment is sincere and has him reconsidering: yeah, that was pretty cool of him, wasn’t it? For all his clumsiness, he doesn’t often see the feats for what they are, accompanied by blunders or not, but you’re the fresh perspective he’d been missing, and he wishes you’d stepped into his life sooner.

The entirety of your outing together has thus far been free of any monsters, but as soon as Bennett makes this observation it’s like the universe has heard: hydro slimes suddenly pop out from the ground, halting you in your tracks. You squeak in surprise and Bennett is quick to shift into a fighting stance, knees slightly bent and one arm out in front of you protectively.

“Just stay there!” he instructs before drawing his sword and rushing forward.

Luckily there aren’t many slimes to fight off, and they aren’t very big. His sword cuts through them easily, cleanly. They burst and spray water upon being sliced apart, so at the end, when they’re all dead, the only evidence they had been there to begin with is the slight dampness to his clothes and the squish of dirt turned to mud. With a sigh of triumph, Bennett resumes a relaxed stance, then sheathes his weapon and turns to you.

As instructed, you’ve stayed in place, but it seems to have been more out of being frozen in fear than anything else. You’re clutching your basket close, and once the slimes are gone, you follow Bennett’s lead and relax, shoulders releasing the tension they had been filled with for the duration of that fight. You let out a deep exhale of relief, hand placed over your heart which has yet to slow back down to its normal pace.

“Thank you.”

Bennett flashes a toothy grin and waves his hand as if to say It’s not a problem. “That’s what I’m here for isn’t it?”

You smile back. “I’m glad we went together.”

Together. He likes the sound of that. He thinks to himself that he’d go with you to other places too; you need only to give the word. To the edge of this world, and through a portal to the next? He’d meet you by the front gate at dawn.

He’s surprised that the encounter with those slimes had gone as smoothly as it had. It isn’t uncommon for him to get hit a few times, bruises quick to form on his arms or his legs. And it’s quite the run of luck, of which he’s ordinarily in short supply, that he should get through a fight with nary a scratch on him while with you. His efforts to impress are actually succeeding.

However, this is another case of speaking too soon, because he starts to walk back to you, but then his foot gets caught on a rock concealed by the tall grass, and he tumbles to the ground.

“Oof!”

His chest collides with the earth as he lands with a thud and the breath is stolen from his lungs. You gasp and close the gap between you, and in viewing you in his peripherals, he notes that you are much more graceful at it.

“Are you all right?”

Bracing his hands on the dirt, small bits of rock digging into his palms, Bennett pushes himself up to sit on his knees. “Yeah, I’m okay!” Here he thought he had handled himself perfectly well, but then just like that, his clumsiness returned, and once more before you he is awkward, blundering Bennett.

Unlike the incident at the bakery when he’d bumped his head into the tray, this fall had actually hurt, and he can’t hide it successfully, a slight wince of pain crossing his face in spite of his smile. Even if you hadn’t caught on to that, the injuries elsewhere on his body give it away completely.

“Your arms are all scraped up…” After Bennett stands back up, you gingerly take hold of his forearm and angle it to examine the scrapes there, thin red lines from tiny stones tearing the skin.

Your grip is light, like you’re scared to injure him further, and Bennett is thankful for the darkness that is setting in as the sun disappears and the moon begins its trek across the sky, for it conceals the way his cheeks redden to be this close to you, to be touched by you. The concern in your gaze as you look at his arm makes his chest squeeze but not in the good way, and he bends his knees slightly to duck into your line of view.

“Don’t worry! I’m fine.” And it’s true. He’s sustained worse, though he steers clear of sharing this part. He doesn’t like to see you worried.

He straightens up when you finally meet his eyes and dons his smile again, easy and reassuring. It seems to convince you, as you nod and let go. He drops his arm back down to his side but he’s already missing the feather-light sensation of your fingertips. Successfully reassured, your smile also returns, replacing the thin line of worry that your lips had previously been set in.

It’s dark now but the air is still warm, a consequence of the season. In the daytime the heat is more extreme, made even more so by the fire curling from the edge of his sword. At the conclusion of whatever commission he has taken, he’s left sweating, satisfied but exhausted. Missions in the summer are more difficult to get through, the sun beating down with little mercy and its heat lingering into the night, but he thinks that if he were to have you there with him, he’d hardly notice.

Your delicate gaze is the cool ocean breeze and your soft smile the deluge of waves washing over him, a force he receives gladly because he is falling into you, deeper into the expanse of your heart. He’s diving into the sea, the unbearable heat of summer long forgotten as he makes his way to the bottom. What he hopes to find he isn’t sure, but he’d be content to remain there forever, consumed by you and all the love you have to offer.

“Okay?” he asks, voice soft. You had nodded but he also wants verbal confirmation that you won’t burden yourself with worry anymore.

You catch on to his own need for reassurance, and he wants to sink into the refreshing fondness of your eyes as you watch him. “Okay.”

The moon up above illuminates your face, and he wants to run his fingers along all the parts it touches: the line of your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, the cupid’s bow of your lips. He yearns to be closer to you than that moonlight adorning your skin, and maybe it’s strange that he should be envious of it, of that light which has the privilege to hold you so near, but the feelings he has for you are what’s written about in books, and in those stories, people do tend to do strange things.

In the morning, he stops by the bakery as usual but this time is surprised when you set a cake down alongside the other baked goods he buys. You answer his question before he can voice it.

“For yesterday,” you state simply. “For my hero.”

Your—?

“I think ‘hero’ is too strong a word for it,” Bennett replies, chuckling quietly and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. After all, they had just been slimes.

You hum noncommittally, corner of your mouth lifted in a grin. “Maybe, but yesterday you were mine. So please take this as thanks.”

He’d like to be yours every day, and the thought of how nice that would be makes his whole world just a little brighter, like the crystal butterflies fluttering around him in the wild on the warm summer nights; and he hopes that the next adventure the wind guides him on leads straight back to you.

[plush-rabbit]

Blossoming Love

Pairing: Rappa x Reader

Warnings: Non-con, Dub-con

Word Count: 4.2K

A/N: Discord request! I hope you like it! 

The bell chimes a lovely tune, a sharp ring that calls for your attention and you straighten your back from where you were tending your flowers, grabbing the watering can and walking over to the door ready to greet the customer.

“Hi, welcome!” You say before you have a chance to analyze the tall man who had just entered the shop. He stands tall and imposing, large hands scraped with old scars that tie and pull taut at the skin. You reach his eyes and give him a soft smile. “What can I help you with?”

He’s silent for a moment and the sweet air turns bitter as you wait for him to speak. Your smile twitches, faltering for a second as he stares at you, eyes blinking and lips curving into a smile. “I’m looking for a plant,” he says, and the response lingers before you chuckle softly.

“Well then you came to the right place.” You hold your hand out to him and put on a sweet voice. “My name is-”

“I know.” Your eyes widen and he’s quick to adjust the situation. A thick digit points to his chest and the smile turns playful. “Your name tag.” He says your name slowly, rolling it off his tongue as if trying to savor the way it sounds. He repeats it with confidence, and smiles proudly at you.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” you joke, chuckling as your hands press into the counter, hoping he’ll laugh at the attempt at a joke.

“I don’t think I’d mind saying your name,” he tells you with a cheeky smile, leaning across the counter, face coming close to meeting yours. He pulls away and holds his hand out towards you. “My name is Kendo.”

Your hand clasps around his and you fit small in his, a shiver running across your body, phantom goose bumps left in its wake and you nod slowly and meet his eyes. Your hand slips out of his and while doing so, his fingers curl and drag against your palm. “It’s nice to meet you Kendo.” His smile is bright and it makes you chuckle softly, taking a step closer to him, the watering can sloshing gently. “Do you want me to show you the flowers we have in stock? Unless you’re here for something else? We also-”

“Flowers,” he blurts out. He clears his throat and pats his chest. “The flowers would be a good start.” You nod and motion him to follow you as you take him along the shop.

He’s cute. Tall, broad shoulders, and long hair that falls and frames his face. He’s cute and his attention makes you flustered. He looks so attentive as you talk, as you mention what the flowers mean while your fingertips graze over the silky petals, watering can in hand a soft swishing noise coming from it and you walk around the brightly lit shop, making your way towards the register, pulling the elephant themed watering can in front you, holding it tight in your hands as you smile up at the tall man.

“So, will you be purchasing something today?” Your fingers curl tighter around the handle. He continues to stare at you, his head cocking to the side, and he remains silent. Your eyes widen and a strained smile takes over as opposed to the soft, flustered one that had decorated your features. You clear your throat and side step, taking small careful steps until you’re behind the counter, the watering can placed on top of the counter, your fingers dancing over the emergency button button that hides underneath. “Um,” your voice cracks and you give out a weak cough, “sir?”

“There’s a lot of options,” he mumbles in a gentle voice, his hand coming up to tug on the ends of his hair.

Your hand flutters away from the button and your eyes soften. “Yeah- Yes, there is. I-” his head straightens and he smiles at you and your composure is lost- “I get it. There are a lot of options and it can be rather- er, overwhelming so choose one.”

“Yeah!” His voice booms and you flinch away from the sudden noise. “Ah, sorry!” He puts his hands up in mock defense and waves them lightly, a toothy grin wide and the apology doesn’t reach his expression. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Oh- it’s no problem at all. I just didn’t expect you to be so,” you bite at your bottom lip to find the proper words, “loud,” you chuckle softly, your index scratching at your jawline. “I know choosing a plant can be a lot of work- especially if you haven’t had one before so maybe you can try something easy?” You smile encouragingly at him, your hands resting above the counter, pushed towards him. “If you want that is.”

He leans towards you and you can smell the faint scent of musk mixed with amber. “I’d like that. What do you recommend?”

You perk up, matching his wide smile and you walk away from the counter and towards a small, colorful area, blue and purples mixed together with lush green leaves, soft reds and yellows, with pale green fleshy leaves. You hear him follow behind you, steps that sound as if he is trying to be quiet but failing to do so. You turn around and your apron sways, dirt caked in and colors faint against it, you smile widely and show off the plants at the table. “I’d recommend a succulent!” You clap your hands and smile sweetly at him.

He hums and takes a step. His body is close against yours, the smell of musk invading your senses and he stands large next to you- larger than most people you’ve seen and you wonder if it’s due to his quirk or if he's just that large.

He turns his head and you feel your face redden, your eyes struggling to meet his soft ones and soft pink flashes out and wets your lips.

“A succulent, huh?” A meaty digit traces the edge of a thick leaf. “Do you mind helping me choose the perfect one?”

You nod eagerly and tap your fingers against each pot, explaining the name and best way to care for them, the words, while well meaning and informative, fall to deaf ears and you fail to notice that the information isn’t being listened to, that the man who stands an inch behind you, watches you with hungry eyes and a reddening face. You walk as you talk, he’s hot behind your trail, following you eagerly, hands gripping tight at the pot, enough that faint cracks could appear any second, his pupils dilated and then he stops, a slight huff escaping past his lips as his abdomen hits at the counter which now separates you from him.

You continue to speak, unaware of the man whose entire body ridges when you smile at him,tapping at the register, fingers brushing along his when you take the succulent out of his hands to scan the code. His smile is sharp and eyes wide- his large stature and faint scars on his knuckles make him appear almost dangerous. But when he holds the too small succulent in his hands, purple and blue hues that mix into green, he appears softer, innocent like and you want to see him smile.

“So, can I have your number?” He’s quick to explain himself, giving you a smile as holding the little succulent gently in his hands. “Just in case I have any questions about raising the little guy.”

Your heart skips a beat and your face is lit aflame, burning hot as you process the words he just said. He is rather cute- large and handsome- there wouldn’t be much shame in sharing your number. You glance towards the front door and back to him and you nod, pulling out a notepad and scribbling your number on it, finished with a hastily scribbled drawn leaf.

He holds it in his hands, memorizing the numbers and nodding to himself as he slips it deep into his pocket. “I’ll make sure to call ya,” he says and he carries the succulent and leaves through the door, a chime once more filling the room and leaving you alone in the company of plants.

-

You two message frequently, the conversation quickly turning from plant related to your daily activities. The conversation remains pleasant and he never makes you feel uncomfortable, conversation never turning lewd. Kendo is nice to talk to. Sweet and a bit forward, telling you how he feels quickly and respecting your boundaries, never pushing you for another meeting, always keeping you and your feelings first. You like talking to him. Which is why when he invites you over, as a “check-up” for his plant, you agree.

You stand in front of his door, tugging down on your skirt, your sweater loose on your body, soft and pink, as you pull your puse close to your body. You knock gently on the door, your knuckles rapping softly on the wooden door. You lick your lips, tasting the faint strawberry chapstick.

You hear heavy footsteps walking towards you and a shadow flashes under the doorway. You swallow nervously and smooth over the soft cotton on your belly. He opens his door to you and welcomes you inside with a wide arm, stepping to the side to let you in.

“Hey Kendo,” you smile up at him.

“Hey,” he greets you cheerily and he pulls you into a hug. “I’m glad you could make it.” He walks further in his apartment; you follow close on his heels, grabbing the end of his shirt and he stops in his steps, turning to give you all his attention. “Are you okay?”

“I, uh,” you smile sheepishly at him, “I’m just nervous being over, I guess.”

A hand cups your face gently and you stare up at him, wide doe eyes and ears burning hot. “You don’t have to be.” A thumb strokes your cheek and he drops his hand, the heat lingering on your face. “Just stick close to me and I’ll keep you safe, okay?” You nod and your hand loosens his shirt. “You don’t have to let go if you don’t want to.” his eyes widen and he holds his hand out towards you. “You can hold my hand if you’d like.” You nod shyly and hold onto his hand.

“Thank you Kendo.” You step close to him and follow him through his apartment. “I uh, thanks for inviting me over.”

“Well I got some new flowers and I wanted to give them to you.”

“New flowers?” You raise a brow at him. “I don’t remember seeing you at the shop. You aren’t cheating on me, are you?” You joke, giving him a playful grin. Your hand squeezes his and you tilt your head. “I have to say, I’m a bit hurt,” you lilt.

He turns to you and pulls you close to him, your face close to bumping into his chest, your hand coming up to stop you from doing so, your palm curving around his chest, you pull away from him, tilting your head and giving him a quizzical look. “I’d never do that,” he says seriously, crouching down to look you in the eyes and you blink owlishly at him. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Your smile twitches and you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I- Okay. I’m glad to hear that.”

He tugs on your hand. “Come on. The flowers are in my bedroom.”

-

You don’t know how you came to be under him, your sweater off and and lip against his, teeth clashing against his, his hands pawing at your body, groping at your chest and shuffling your skirt off. Ignoring your hands that try to stop his hands.

You’re small against him. He’s thick and bulky, your hands not able to wrap fully around his wrists. He’s heavy, pushing you down on his sheets, crumpling them in the process, breathing harshly against you, hands pushing down the waistband of your skirt. Kendo presses his groin against you, his lips kissing down and sucking softly on your neck. The pale blue vase that sits with an arrangement of baby’s breath, balsam, freesia and red carnations watch idly, petals perked and bright, leaves shining with fresh dew as you try to push Kendo off, your hands curving over his chest. His hands rub gently at your folds, your heart pumping harshly while tears prick your eyes.

He crawls away from you, hands sliding over your sides and pulling down your panties that are moist with your slick. They’re pulled off of you, stuffed into his pocket and your lips are puffy and red, body shaking slightly. You yelp and he grabs your ankle and slides you further down on his bed. “I’ll take care of you,” he mutters hotly on your skin. “Just sit back.”

"Ken- Kendo," you whimper, tugging on his hair as your legs dangle off the bed. "I- I don't think I'm ready." You try to scuttle away, heels pressing against the side of the mattress.

"'Course you are," his breath is hot against your skin, nose brushing against the inside of your thigh. "All you have to do is sit back and enjoy." His hands hold against your hips, coarse fingertips digging deep in your soft skin. "'Swear I'll take care of you." He kisses above your pubic bone, and he drags his lips down, warm breath fanning against your entrance, the tip of his nose against your clit. His tongue flutters against your entrance, the tip of it rimming around, gathering the sweet nectar that seeps from you.

"Kendo, really," you mutter, pushing his head away, your clit pulsing under his nose, "I think we should wait." Tears spring in your eyes and your throat closes, your hands fist on his hair. "Kendo, please."

You take in a sharp breathe when his thick tongue pushes inside of you, swirling and pushing against your plush walls, your hands curling and fisting his soft hair, tugging on it in a feeble attempt to push him off, your legs spreading and closing, a mental disagreement on what would show him that you don’t want this- you don’t want his tongue on you, you don’t want his hands to be so rough- you don’t want him. Not like this.

His hands squeeze at you, nails pulling against your skin and you let out a low whimper. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs. “That’s the last thing I want to do to you.” Your stomach drops and heart gets caught in your throat. His tongue swirls around your folds, lapping at the arousal that leaks past and stains his lips. “You don’t want me to hurt you either, right?” You shake your head and his teeth graze at your clit. “I can’t hear you.”

“No,” you say in a soft whisper. “No. I don’t want that.” Tears swell in your eyes and you suck in a sharp breath. “I don’t want it to hurt,” you whine, your hands softening their grip and coming to rest on your thighs where your nails dig deep into your skin.

He raises his head and his lower half shines with your slick. “It won’t.” His fingers slide against your slit and the tip of his index presses against your entrance the pleasure overriding the pain as you’re fondled. “I’ll make sure to take care of you.” He kisses your clit. “I’ll get your sweet pussy ready for my cock.” His finger pushes deeper inside of you and your back collapses on the bed, bottom lip bitten between your teeth, hands covering your mouth as tears slide down and wet your face.

His mouth kisses at your lower lips, his pink muscle tonguing at you, sliding between your folds and circling around your clit, moving the hot bundle of nerves around, his finger prodding around and feeling your gummy walls. Your walls move and shift around him, pulsating and leaking, wrapping tight around his finger and suckling him in. Soft clicking noises sound around the room, his tongue and mouth wrapped around the pearl that grows hard under his attention, shocks and sends pleasure throughout you, his mouth unrelenting and nursing around the bud.

His finger slips out, dragging down and his mouth covers it, cheeks hollowing as he tastes you. Your face flushes and heat blooms in your chest and rises to your cheeks. “You’re so sweet.” His mouth presses itself against your slit, the pad of his thumb pressing down on your clit, soft circular motions replacing his tongue and his tongue pushes itself inside of you. The hot, pink muscle flicks inside of you, scooping up your slick and sliding it to the back of his throat, spilling between his lips and coating him in a thin layer that slides down his chin and spills onto his shirt. The tongue is hot inside of you, reaching deep and spreading you wide and he laps at your juices like a parched man, his hands sliding underneath to cup your rear and push you closer against his face, nose pressed against your clit and his moans vibrate around you.

Your moans are muffled by your hands, your thighs indented with small crescents while you twitch around him, urging yourself to push down the heat that burns in your lower belly, the pressure that build send shivers through your body, your nipples perked in attention, straining against the bra that you wear. Your heels press against his shoulder blades, hands pressed tight against your mouth, suppressing the mewls that escape past your lips and the pressure builds. Your back arches as he adds two fingers. The meaty digits spreading your tight hole wide and  stinging sensation sharpens around your lower half. Your cunt contracts around him, tightening and your arousal acting as lubricant drenches him, the stinging feeling fading after a few scissoring motions, curling and spreading wide inside of you, watching with eager and attentive eyes as your hips twist and cunt flutters around him.

“Kendo,” you murmur, feeling your walls pulse around him, “please. It’s too much, I-”

He shushes you gently, his tongue feeling around your clit, and your ankles cross over him as a white-hot burning feeling starts to pulse through your body. You close your eyes, shutting them tight until blobs of shape and color fill your vision, your body going rigid, pleasure coursing through your body is harsh spasms while you twitch and pulse around his fingers.

You’re left feeling empty, your core spread and wide, leaking with slick that coats your inner thighs and your legs come undone, slipping past his shoulders and down to his arms to dangle over the bed, hands resting above your chest, holding tight on your chest, the straps of the bra twisted around your index fingers.  Your eyes remain close, the cool air hitting at your core and you press your thighs together, brows furrowing at the sticky feeling.

Metal clinks together and you let out a quiet sigh, a hand leaving your chest and to cover your abused cunt, protecting it from whatever is about to happen- from the inevitable feeling as his hands hook in between the tight space and pull your legs apart, small gossamer stings spreading apart as your cunt is exposed to his eyes.

“You’re such a good girl,” he coos, his body looming over yours, lips pressing delicately above yours, the tip of his tongue brushing over your teeth and the spot where you bit through, pink flesh that shines out and stings at the cold air but trembles at his warm touch. “Such a good, little girl who came for me.”

You feel something hard press against your thigh, it’s hot and leaves a wet trail that makes your leg twitch, muscle tighten and your hand is removed from your chest, bra unclipped, the soft lavender color leaving you naked and exposed, nipple pebbled in the cold air and his mouth drags down your chin and above your collarbone, leaving bright red appear in its wake as he marks you. His teeth graze over a nipple, electricity sparking and tears flood your eyes as his cockhead presses itself against you, bobbing and slipping past your folds and brimming past your entrance. He nurses on your chest, a large hand massaging at your naked breast while the other is encased in his mouth, cheeks hollowed and as he pushes further inside of you, his thickness stretching you wide and making you feel as if you’d split if he went any further, your hands come to wrap behind his head, urging him to keep his soft sucking in attempt to distract yourself from the pain while you cry his name, soft walls wrapping around him.

Dribble slips past and shines your breasts, raising above and blowing cool air above the wet nipple, moving his head to the side, inching himself further in you, spittle now shining on the other breast, nursing on you, his tongue swirling above your nipple, pushing the pert bud with his tongue.

You cry as he bottoms out, pushed inside of you, his hips meeting yours. You let out a sharp cry, tears slipping down that are kissed away gently, your cries muffled by Kendo’s lips, a faint salty taste on your tongue. He gives you no time to adjust yourself, moving quickly inside you, cock twitching in you, grunting above you, his hair cascading past his shoulders and pulling above to look at you, peppering kisses against your face.

You tear your gaze away from him and stare at the vase, watching the flowers that glisten and petals that decorate the window sill. He tears against your soft skin, spreading you wide, your tight, virgin hole. “Kendo, it hurts,” you mewl, covering your eyes with your hands, legs twitching and cunt weeping.

“You’re a virgin?” He asks, hissing above, stilling and nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck. “I feel kinda special then,” he kisses your neck, “me being your first,” he kisses under your jawbone, “fuck, knowing I’m the first cock that’s been in this pretty pussy,” he presses his lips against yours, “stretching you wide and filling you up.” He thrusts inside of you, his shaft thick and hot, feeling around your velvety walls that pulse and squish around him, soft shucking noises that sound the room and leak around.

“Kendo,” you sob, cheeks flushed and chest shuddering with each cry, “it hurts.”

“It won’t in a while,” he brushes away a stray piece of hair, curling it behind your ear, “just focus on the good parts of it.” His soft hair flows around you, wrapping around your neck and it feels as if it tightens, suffocating you and trapping you under him.

He grunts your name, chanting it under his breath, clear and loud, lowering into a hoarse whisper said into your ears, his tongue flickering out and licking a stripe under your earlobe. His thrusts grow more feverish, pushing deep in you, hips stuttering and moans breaking your name apart. The heat pools in your stomach, raising and going against your tears, against your whimpering of pain and heart aching. Your body tense, constricting around his length, and pulling him in, and keeping him tight around you. The orgasm that washes over you is startling, making your body clench, ripples that wash over you and make you wail his name, Kendo muffling it with a kiss, his own hips pressed against yours and he bites your bottom lip, pulling on it and letting it go with a soft slip. Heat washes over, thick and creamy, that fills you and spills deep in you, his teeth coming down and clamping around the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You shudder and twitch, craning your neck away from him and goose bumps covering your body.

He pulls you into a messy kiss, tongue pushing past your lips and swirling over your tongue, cock pulling away with a hiss and soft click. You whine and shake your head, brows furrowing in pain and your limbs feel heavy, eyelids drooping and his softening cock rests against your thigh, warm seed spilling out and dripping down your folds.

He pulls away and holds your face delicately in his hands. “Do you want me to get you a glass of water?” He kisses the tip of your nose and his hands glide off your face. “We can take a shower in a bit.”

You lay on his bed, cold and warm, shuddering and wrapping your arms around your body, pulling yourself in a fetal position, tears blinked away and eyes shut. His footsteps fade and grow, a soft clink sounds far away and you whine when a thin blanket is put over your body. A gentle hand brushes your hair, twirling a strand and resting to back in its place. Lips press against your temple and you burrow yourself deeper into the mattress.

[moonxjoon]

How Can I Help You? | chapter 1

one | two

Pairing: HueningKai x barista!Reader 

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: Working at the local cafe in town is normally a tiresome day job, until you meet a particularly fascinating young guy who frequents your shop more and more often than usual. 

A/N: Requests Open~

You clutched your peacoat flush to your chest, forcing out a deep breath which brought forth a wisp of clouded air that you could see infringing on the cold air. Your tired breaths slowed when you finally halted your semi-jog, arriving at the teal-colored door of the local corner coffee house you were currently working at on your days off from university classes. 

The street adjacent to the building was already saturated with early morning commuters, public transportation bussing, and the occasional biker or runner. It was a raucous, lively Monday morning in the midst of the brisk winter months, teetering on the edge of springtime (which was promised to come sooner rather than later as a result of an inquisitive rodent spotting its shadow a few weeks prior). 

You used your boss’s key to unlock the hackneyed door, swinging it open to let in a gust of sharp, biting air throughout the settled shop. Your entire body loosened up when you shut the door behind you and made your way behind the counter to get ready for opening. 

You pulled off your scarf and coat, hanging it on the coat rack situated at the front entrance. “Morning!” You said to yourself and perhaps even the shop itself. 

Your morning opening routine involved opening blinds, cleaning the espresso machines, and prepping the pastry and snack counter. After your first hand duties were completed, you checked the clock on the wall to see that it was still 6:43, seventeen minutes before opening. You instinctively yawned to yourself, as you had gotten less than adequate sleep the night prior. You had finished up two research papers and an observational lab report for the following week, knowing you would barely have enough time to complete the assignments during your work days. Sluggishly wandering into the back room where breaks and team meetings were commonly held, you grabbed the chalkboard sign used to entice outside customers to stop in and grab a quick cup of joe before starting their day. You wiped it clean and meticulously calligraphed an eye-catching, curtailed version of the store’s menu, highlighting new seasonal drinks and different types of house-made patisseries. 

Wearing nothing but your shop uniform and apron, you braced yourself as you opened the front door, the bitter coldness immediately intruding through your clothing. You propped the A-framed sign at the very front of the shop, repositioning it more than needed to satisfy your perfectionist psyche as well as making sure it didn't take up too much space on the footpath for passers-by. Just as you finished setting up the sign, an incoming cry triggered your fight-or-flight response, making you jump. 

“S’cuse me!” You heard the voice, envoking you to spin around on your heel to see where the exclamation came from. At the very last second, as a blue blur flashed before your eyes, your legs that were stuck at the entrance of your shop finally decided to move for you. You narrowly evaded the biker, who was traveling downhill on the sidewalk and jerkily dodging people and uneven pavement bumps. You watched as he spun around on his seat, quickly waving to you and not exactly abiding by the biker rules of the road. “Sorry bout that!” 

Your racing heart slowed enough to take note of the boy on the bike. His bright aqua hair blew messily in the wind. His back was adorned in a beige jacket and dark pants, and his dark blue tie fluttered over his shoulder, flapping wildly from his breakneck riding.

“There’s a bike lane for a reason!” You called back to him, watching precariously as he narrowly avoided other pedestrians. Knowing he couldn’t hear you anyway, you rolled your eyes and made your way back into the warmth of your brewhouse dwelling. 

Laidback rhythms and soft melodies mixed with a cacophony of brewing machines filled the shop as you prepared orders for the now growing line of customers waiting for their daily dose of caffeine and sugar. The first hours of the morning were spent operating alone, as your other coworker called in about fifteen minutes prior to opening that she would be coming into work late. Typical, you thought, as you poured another medium vanilla chai latte and handed it to a young woman, too busy talking on her phone to even say ‘thank you’. 

Your brow began to sweat a tad while you prepared espresso after latte after macchiato after cappuccino. After the dozenth cup was served to the last patron in line and no one else needed to be helped, you took a deep breath and used the end of your apron to wipe away the excess perspiration that had collected at the apex of your forehead. Even though it felt like nearly below freezing outside, the whirring machines and scalding drink-making process made the small shop exceedingly sweltering. 

You propped your bottom on the edge of the cashier counter and promptly took out your phone for a quick break. You opened your instagram app and liked a few aesthetically pleasing dorm photos on your explore page. Just as you were admiring a particular picture of a minimalistic yet fashionably tasteful flat arrangement (silently wishing you had the money to make your own room look like that), you heard the telltale ring of the doorbell, signalling there was another customer that needed to be tended to. You sighed to yourself and slipped your phone into your apron pocket, turning to face the cash register, ready to take yet another overly complex order. 

“Hi, how can I help you?-” you casually glanced up to the person, but your words caught in your throat as you made eye contact. Standing before you was a towering young man who you guessed was around you age just by his youthfulness. Soft chocolate-caramel locks were splayed across his forehead, leading down towards even darker mocha-colored irises. His hair and eye color starkly contrasted to his pretty much flawless milky skin tone. Before his lips even parted to say a word, you immediately deducted that he was one of the cutest guys you’d ever laid eyes on. 

“Good morning.” He said. With a sharp intake of air, your teeth unconsciously grabbed onto the sides of your cheeks, which were now progressing into a darker and darker shade of pink. You noticed his lips as he spoke; they were a deep cherry color, almost matching his own cheeks. You suspected this was because of the chilly outdoor weather, unlike your own blood flowing to your face due to the fact you were staring up at an incredibly good-looking guy. 

The boys eyes tilted upwards to the menu hanging just above your head before returning back to your unbreaking gaze. “I’ve never been here before, mind if I ask what you recommend?” His voice was alluring in a way and you focused on every word as it came out. You blinked a few times, hearing those particular words strung in that order, but not entirely processing them. When an uncomfortable and unnecessary amount of time passed between him asking and you answering, your brain forced out words by itself, resulting in a clumsy and uncalculated response. 

“Uhm, I’m sorry, what was that?” you asked, shaking your head and breaking eye contact which was also starting to get weird. You stared at the buttons on the register, now completely and utterly flustered. You inwardly scolded yourself for making yourself look like a fool. It was one thing if it was any other customer, but you had to be caught off guard by a boy- lord knows how inept you are at holding a conversation with a guy that you find even minimally cute.

“It’s alright. I was just wondering what you think is good here. I don’t really drink coffee, but I need the caffeine to keep me up for today. Being back from break sucks.” The brunette laughed slightly to himself- god, even his giggle was cute. 

You held your grip on the sides of the register, praying you wouldn’t continue to make yourself look like a newbie at her job. Come on, just pretend he's just a normal patron, because that’s all he is. Go about your coffee schpeal and recommend the classics. 

You glanced back up at the boy, who was still staring at you with the most pleasant, friendly smile. 

Through your peripherals, you noticed his apparel. It looked strangely familiar, like the clothing was seen somewhere before in the inner recesses of your mind. You had a realization that the tan single-breasted suit with light blue trim was the exact same uniform worn by the guy that nearly ran you over this morning. 

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to act like a normal person, not letting some random captivating dude distract you from your job. “Oh, well we still have our holiday drinks in season; there's our peppermint cappuccino, gingerbread latte, mocha praline swirl...hot chocolate?” You tried, countering his smile with a homely smirk. 

His hand came up and gingerly caressed the back of his neck, his eyes once again scanning the board behind you. “Hm, what’s your favorite here?” he queried, making the settling blood in your face heat up once again. 

Your mouth opened once, then twice, both times no words coming out. On the third try, your vocal cords finally decided to work. “Oh, that’s a hard question, I’m like a coffee fiend.” The painful grasp on the register slowly eased when to your surprise, the same chuckle from before erupted from his chest. “I’d recommend everything, but one of my go-to’s is our cinnamon dolce latte with brown sugar cinnamon and caramel.” you said quickly, now hyper-aware of your awkward demeanor. 

He nodded his head, making his hair bounce up and down playfully over his face. “Alright, I’ll have a small cinnamon dolce, in that case.” You noticed that not once did his smile leave his face. Your mouth perked up, enjoying your short chat. “Got it. That’ll be $3.15.” He reached into his satchel that was slung over his shoulder and pulled out a wallet, handing you a crisp five dollar bill. While he was doing that you took the time to check out his lapel, which had an emblem patch stitched on his front pocket. The black embroidered crest was adorned with gold trimming; woven in were three tri-colored stars of yellow, green, and blue. 

Before he had a chance to notice your subtle appraisal, you accepted his currency, brushing his slender fingers in the process. The innocent and simple gesture made your own fingers tingle as they came into contact with foreign skin. His fingertips were chilled as your clammy hands met his, making goosebumps form over your wrist and up your arm. Suddenly your legs were locked in place, yet all the while felt formless and weak. 

“Wh-what’s the name for the order?”  you asked and silently berated yourself for sounding so automatic yet pathetic at the same time. 

“Huening Kai. But you can just put Kai.” Another beaming grin crossed his face as he wiped away a stray piece of hair hanging in front of his eye. It looks so smooth and soft, you thought. Your hands suddenly felt the need to find purchase in his locks, just to see how the mop of shiny brown hair would feel under your touch. You’re repulsive! What is wrong with you? Get your mind out of the gutter! Your mind shouted at you, bringing you back to reality once again. 

“Kai. Got it.” You grabbed a cup and a magic marker, writing out the name as neatly as possible. An unexpected wave of confidence came over you before you could stop your lips from speaking you spat out, “Nice name, Huening Kai. Very pretty.” You bite your tongue, immediately regretting your words. Just as you were about to explain yourself that you didn't mean for that to sound weird or come across as creepy, your head shot up to see that his expression changed to a softer simper. His head tilted a bit, like a puppy studying it’s owners face in confusion. 

“Thank you, I don't get too many compliments on my name. I appreciate it…” His gaze trailed down from your eyes to your collarbone and right above your breast. He leaned forward over the counter, examining you. A warm heat followed his eyes, making the room feel even hotter than before. “Y/N. Hm, I like yours, too. It fits you.” He said and you momentarily thought he was a mind-reader, until you realized he was studying your name tag attached to your shirt. 

You uncontrollably erupted in a giggle, exalted by his compliment. “Thanks, I used to hate it, but I guess I don’t mind it anymore.” 

You were kicked back into gear when you peered behind the boy and saw more people had made their way into the shop and were waiting for their orders to be taken. “Your drink will be right out, Kai.” You replied and spun around to your workstation so he wouldn’t notice the redness permeating across your face. 

As you made his drink, you made sure to take special care in not messing up the simple order, as you had made numerous drinks in your time at the shop; you haven't had a single customer complain about any of your beverages thus far, so this one shouldn’t be any exception.  

The brew was ready, and you took your time making sure the whipped topping was laid expertly and not overflowing. You pressed the lid shut and ensured not a single drop of coffee spilled. “Kai?” you stepped up to the counter at the other end of your station, seeing him waiting patiently and scrolling through his phone. When his name was called, he instantly perked up and smiled. “That was quick!” he exclaimed, slipping his phone into his trouser pocket in exchange for his drink. 

Your hands skimmed each other once again, the same exact warm feeling shooting up your arm like before. Ignoring it this time, you gestured to the line of people gathering at the front of the store. “I gotta be. Coffee making pays surprisingly well, can’t afford to be slow.” 

Your statement was ironic, as these past few minutes felt like an eternity, just being in the presence of this stranger. 

He took a slow sip of the latte as you spoke. You were surprised when his eyes grew wide, and panicked as the thought crossed your mind that you prepared the wrong recipe or maybe he burned his tongue. You should’ve warned him it’d be scalding hot! 

“Wow. You’re pretty good at your craft, not gonna lie!” His overly charming grin came back once again, which made you wonder how his cheeks weren’t sore yet. Before you could thank him, he started making his way to the door, waving as he made long strides to the exit. “Thanks, Y/N. I'll leave you to your work now, gotta get to class soon, too.” 

Your encounter was over too soon, and you felt a certain tug at your chest when he pressed his fingers to the glass paneling of the door. “See you around!” He shouted over the heads of the customers queued up at the register. And just like that, the pretty boy Kai was gone. “See you!” You tried to call out, but it was too late. The door shut and from the storefront windows you could see the tousled chocolate locks flying haphazardly in the outdoor wind, until he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. 

Your heart had slowed to a regular beat, and you let out a disappointed sigh. You remembered your other patrons and you speedily went back to your post and second nature kicked in and your day continued normally.  

“Sorry for the wait, staff is short today.” You apologize to the man standing before you, the bags under his eyes and vitriolic frown indicating he was not in the mood to wait any longer than he had to.

He has to be back sometime. You thought and mindlessly typed away the order for each customer, switching back and forth from brewing and the register. He must go to the same academy as the other dude from this morning. You recollected the blue-haired boy that donned the same uniform as Kai. Damn, I kinda hope he comes back.

It wasn't typical of you to think about someone so strongly after having just met them, but for some reason, this guy lingered around your thoughts. From his tall figure to the way he said your name to his cheeky smile and laugh and even to his cold fingers. You scolded yourself for what seemed like the hundredth time for letting a simple crush affect you so. 

You forced out a frustrated huff as your thoughts got the better of your judgement and you accidentally switched up two girls’ orders, earning you a few disgruntled remarks about not doing your job right and an eye roll. When the day couldn't seem to last any longer, you checked out the clock to see if your shift was almost over. 7:36. Lovely…

[masterthetackle]

Illusionary Majesty

Mifuyu Azusa x G/N!Reader

Summary: Getting Mifuyu Azusa, a regular customer at the cafe you were a part-timer at to open up to you was a chore in and of itself. When finally given an opportunity to learn more about her personal life, the underlying problems of her past create a barrier that you cannot seem to break through.

A/N: This is what happens when you get struck with inspiration. 

Word Count: 2,504

If someone asked you what you thought of Mifuyu Azusa, you’d just say she was a regular at the cafe and nothing more. She’d order something small, retreat to the corner and crack open a book just like everyone else. This was an every other day routine on the weekdays. Tuesdays and Thursdays you’d never see her, which made you wonder what she'd do in between the times you would see her. It was a shame, though, since you enjoyed her quiet company in the cafe.  

Today was a Monday, meaning she would be walking in at any minute. You were the only one handling the front counter at the moment, the manager tending to the books on the shelves in back, so when she walked in you were the first person she saw in her direct vision. Wearing a long-sleeved sweater with a pair of shorts underneath, she made her way over to you and stood across the counter with a smile on her face.

“Well, look who it is. I’m assuming you want your usual?” Mifuyu perked up at the comment, giggling slightly and closing her eyes. 

“Being a regular has its advantages, I see.” Opening her eyes, she glanced over at the bookcases lining the walls. “What’s the recommended book for this week?”

“We haven’t set one yet. The manager was late getting it out.” 

“Ah, I see… well, I’m sure that I can find one to read regardless.” She moved a strand of hair from her face and took out her phone from the bag she’d been carrying around. A grimace laid on her face as she read the many notifications displayed on the screen.

“I’m sorry about this, but would you be kind enough to bring my tea out to the corner table when it’s done? I have to go outside to make an important phone call.” Her thumb shot back behind her shoulder towards the table as she took out and placed a thousand yen note in the money tray. “I’ll come back for the change when I’m done.”

“Yeah, of course.” 

Without another word, she walked outside and began furiously typing away on her smartphone, holding it up to her ear after a few moments. You first made Mifuyu’s change, taking the bill and exchanging it for a five-hundred yen coin, placing it back on the tray but keeping it out of plain sight for the time being. Hopefully this would keep anyone from snatching it up. Pouring her a nice cup of freshly-prepared matcha, you carefully balanced the cup on a saucer and took it to the table in the back corner. 

“Doing errands now, Y/N?” Still lining the shelves, the manager on duty caught your attention. “Wait, don’t tell me. You like her, don’t you?”

“That’s ridiculous, I don’t know the first thing about Mifuyu other than her name. I can’t have feelings for a woman I know nothing about.” Huffing, your hands precariously placed the tea onto the table as you continued to stare at her.

“Well, you must have some sort of interest in her if you know her name, make yourself available and ready at the counter every other day, and willingly leave the counter unattended just to deliver something to her regular table. I know young love when I see it, though it might be one-sided if you say you don’t really know her.”

“Come on, you can’t be serious.” You rolled your eyes. 

“I am serious. Go ahead and take your break when she comes back in. I’m sure she can go a half hour without browsing our shelves.” Smirking, she placed the last book in her hands on the shelf. She was right though, you were definitely cutting corners when it came to Mifuyu. Maybe it was the mysterious aura she brought about, or the way her eyes would light up when she read a good book, or even- no, you had to quit thinking about it, about her. You just happened to work at the cafe she frequented, nothing more.

Fifteen minutes had passed since she went outside. The manager took over the counter for you, but you had to wonder what exactly she could have done with Mifuyu’s change, since it was just laying out on top of the money tray. There was no heat radiating from the tea you'd placed out, getting colder each second that passed by. Instead of staying inside, your legs moved on their own towards the door and opened it, catching a small bit of her conversation.

"-yes, I know the rumor is there for a reason, however-"

"Mifuyu?"

Shocked and surprised to no end, Mifuyu nearly dropped her phone on the concrete. It was clear that she wasn't expecting somebody, especially you of all people, to come out and interrupt her. Muttering something unintelligible into her phone, she ended the call and turned around.

"Oh, it's just you… is there something you needed from me?"

"I just wanted to say that your tea was getting cold. I mean, I can get you a new cup if you'd like." You held the door open to the cafe awaiting her response, to which she shook her head. 

"That won't be necessary." Mifuyu's teal orbs looked through the window at the counter. She probably wanted her change. "I have somewhere I need to go, so I won't be staying today." 

"Oh, but wait, what about your change? Let me grab it for you-" The door slammed quickly behind you, your hand diving behind the counter to grab the single five-hundred yen coin. 

Turning around though, she was nowhere to be seen. She'd already left, and here you were standing with her change in the palm of your hand; clearly whatever it was that she had to do was more important than getting her change back. Not only that, but it was a waste of a fresh cup of matcha. The manager noticed the distraught look on your face and spoke up.

"I'm sure it's nothing against you, so don't take it personal. Some women just happen to be busy at the worst times."

Sighing, you closed your eyes and shook your head. 

"I guess you're right, but what should I do about… this?" 

"Leave it back here. She'll probably use it the next time she comes in anyways. Make sure to clean off the space where the tea is, too. Just a shame she wasted a nice cup of tea with some company to boot."

The next day came and went by like a blur, the events of yesterday doing little to keep your mind focused. The one time, the only time you were actually going to be able to talk to Mifuyu, to get to know her… and she just leaves. What kind of dumb luck was that, anyways? Your eyes continually darted back towards the corner table during orders, and you'd have to apologize for getting distracted. All because of her.

It felt empty yesterday. She wasn’t sitting at her usual table, and it almost felt like the cafe was empty without Mifuyu there. You didn’t even want to move the tea just in case there was a sliver of hope that she would come back that day. 

But she didn’t. 

Now it was Wednesday. Your eyes were trained on the door, hoping and waiting that Mifuyu would walk in and grace you with her presence. It took a while, but when you saw the familiar silver hair, you knew it had to be her. But instead of a smile on her face, she seemed to be frowning, or even drawing a blank expression. There was something bothering her, but you didn’t want to pry for information. Instead, you greeted her with your own smile, standing across the counter from her yet again.

“Usual again, Mifuyu?” 

Silence. 

“I’ll… take that as a-”

“Could I have it to-go this time?” She muttered, averting her eyes from you. “I have things to do, and I can’t spend too much time reading today.”

“Oh… alright. The change from last time will cover it, so I’ll just-”

“Iced, please.” 

This was unusual. She usually didn’t want her tea iced, so you had to wonder what made her change her mind. Biting your lip to stay silent, you nodded and got to work on her drink. The way she was cutting off your sentences was just as strange as the iced tea. 

“What do you have to do today, if you don’t mind me asking?” You asked, pouring the ice into a clear cup as you spoke.

“Studying. I’d do it here if I wasn’t getting tutored, but… unfortunately, that is the case.”

“What are you studying?”

“Advanced calculus. It’s a required subject for someone pursuing a degree in pharmaceutics…”

“Oh, a pharmaceutical degree? I’d never’ve known. I’ve never seen you when I’ve been on campus.”

“It’s… complicated.”

Just when you thought she was starting to open up to you, she closed herself right back up. Groaning in annoyance, you poured hot tea into the cup and practically slammed the lid on it. 

“Well, here’s your drink. Have fun studying.” Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed with Mifuyu. She took the cup from the counter and stood for a moment, watching your expression twist. 

“Are you alright?” Were you alright? What kind of dumb question was that? How could someone like her waltz in here like that and blow you off? 

“Oh, I’m fine. Fantastic. Didn’t you have somewhere to be right now, studying?” 

“...I see. Yes, I do, thanks for reminding me as if I’m not able to remember the reason why I got my tea to-go.” Huffing, she furrowed her brow and glared daggers into your soul. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Mifuyu, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“I said goodbye, Y/N.” Turning on her heel, Mifuyu made a beeline straight for the door carrying her drink in one hand and taking out her phone with the other. The manager noticed the tone she used and the weight her words laid on you and decided to intervene, catching her right before she walked out the door.

“Hey now, they didn’t mean to make it sound like you were an idiot or anything like that. Don’t be mad at Y/N.”

“My feelings are none of your concern. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.” 

Sidestepping out of the way, the manager watched Mifuyu walk out with a single tear falling down her cheek. 

“I don’t think she’s doing good. I’m pretty sure she was on the verge of tears…” Looking at you, she leaned against the counter. “Say, go take your break and catch up with her. If you don't do something now, it might be too late. If you don’t come back on time, I’ll just assume that you’re still trying to fix things, no biggie.” 

“Are you sure about this?”

“Positive. Now go, hurry before she disappears from your line of sight.”

Taking off your apron quickly and discarding it under the counter, you practically ran out of the cafe to catch up with the girl you were so hopelessly crushing on. Thankfully she’d barely made it a few hundred yards past the store, so you were able to catch up in no time flat.

“Mifuyu, wait!” 

Turning around, her glossy eyes met yours in an instant, and the same tear that had streaked down her face earlier left a trail in its wake. 

“Hey... now I thought that you were the one who asked me if I was alright, yet here you are tearing up with an iced tea of all things. Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m sorry, but… you wouldn’t understand my problems, Y/N. They’re… private.”

“Why did you come to the cafe today if you weren’t going to sit down and enjoy a book? You could have just made a drink at home without having to pay. Come on, just say something.”

“As I said before, you wouldn’t understand my problems. It’s not because you’re incapable of understanding, it’s just… you wouldn’t be able to handle the truth.”

“What do you mean? The truth about what?”

“About me.” Mifuyu’s answer was vague and mysterious, but the words that came out of her mouth carried a heavy weight about them. Casting her gaze downwards to her feet, she let out a forced chuckle. “You don’t have to worry. Whatever you’re thinking, just know that I can handle myself.”

“It’s hard not to worry when the girl I’ve caught feelings for is standing right in front of me and acting out of character.”

Her head shot back up immediately, but instead of being surprised, Mifuyu looked disappointed. Even saddened would be a good way to describe it. Her lips formed a thin line, and the grip on her tea loosened. When she finally spoke up, her voice was but a hushed whisper.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but I… I can’t. A woman like me can’t live a normal life full of happiness. I have too much weight on my shoulders to act on feelings... if things were different…” 

“Then change things for the better, for your own sake. If you want to live a life full of burden, then a life full of burden is what you’re going to get. If you want to be happy, then you’re going to have to make subtle changes in your life to make way for happiness, right? I don’t know a lot about you, but I’d… I’d love to get to know you. Not just as a customer of the cafe, but as a person.”

“I’ll think hard on what you’ve said to me, Y/N.” There was a long pause before she spoke again, contemplating and carefully choosing her words. “I’m not free often, but… I think I can squeeze in a little time for you.”

“I’m glad, Mifuyu.” Smiling, you rubbed the back of your head. “Do you still have to go study?”

“Unfortunately. Those derivatives won’t solve themselves.” Her expression softened, and for just a moment you could swear she moved closer to you, but ended up backing away regardless. “Well, you’ve given me a lot to think about. I’m sure when I see you on Friday I’ll have an answer for you regarding my decision.”

“Think long and hard about it… regardless of your choice, I’ll still be here. I don’t understand your circumstances, but I’ll be here to listen. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“You’re absolutely right.” 

One last smile from Mifuyu was all you received before she turned back around and started walking down the street yet again. There was a renewed sense of purpose in her steps, and she took a sip of her iced tea as a small reminder of the person who made it for her: you. You, to her, were someone special and irreplaceable.

All because you cared about her without knowing the truth.

[ducktracy]

151. he was her man (1937)

release date: january 2nd, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: n/a

1937, what a year you are! this is the year that the looney tunes become looney to me, when they truly become recognizable as the shorts we love today. the biggest contribution of the year is mel blanc’s debut with porky the wrestler. daffy is born (as is petunia), ub iwerks becomes a director, his unit soon taken over by bob clampett, the merry go round broke down is instated as the looney tunes theme song, porky says his first that’s all folks... we have lots to look forward to! so as not to get too ahead of ourselves, we’ll focus on he was her man: the leave of a mouse’s husband does little to soften the blow of the great depression, and the poor mouse struggles to survive in the harsh world.

for once, berneice hansell isn’t providing the vocals for the poor, freezing mouse unsuccessfully peddling apples in the snowy streets. i’m not sure who it is—if i were forced to guess, i’d say martha wentworth, but that doesn’t seem quite right. regardless, selling apples at five cents a pop isn’t going too well for her as apathetic townspeople trudge by. there’s a rather prolonged and tedious gag of a thermometer dipping in temperature with each temperature. the gag itself is too drawn out to get a good laugh, but the catcall whistle as the temperature reaches WAY WAY BELOW! makes the gag slightly rewarding.

the mouse’s customers aren’t buying, and certainly aren’t in the consumer spirit. one passerby goes as far as to bite the apple straight out of her hand, leaving just the core, refusing to pay. the mouse is just about to pack up when a rather portly gentleman who seems to have his share of money approaches her for one. she thanks him as she ogles at her shiny, silver coin, unable to believe it. for safekeeping, she drops the coin down her shirt, the coin slithering all the way into her shoe.

content with the transaction, she heads home, skipping along gaily as she totes her basket of apples. the walk cycle is rather amusing because of how awkward it is—at first i thought it was because she had an entire COIN in her shoe, but i don’t think that’s the case. amusing regardless. as she gallops along, she thinks of her sweetheart, a rather brute, tough, scrappy looking mouse who doesn’t seem to be very friendly. regardless, she views him as a regular clark gable—literally, as his head turns into that of an amusing clark gable caricature. a very funny way of storytelling, but sad at the same time, as you can imagine her real boyfriend doesn’t treat her too kindly.

approaching her apartment, we get a rather long, stretched out gag that’s amusing at first but becomes stale rather quickly. as the little mouse tinkers up the stairs, a naked pig exits a bathroom, covered only by a towel. he spots the approaching mouse and hides back in the bathroom, doing a pseudo mel blanc giggle (that’s not actually him, but i’ve heard it in mel blanc cartoons. porky in egypt comes to mind when the camel summons porky to the mirage.) the oblivious little mouse heads up to the next floor, and the same exact gag resumes—the naked pig exits another bathroom and hides when the mouse approaches. the gag then repeats for a THIRD and final time as she heads up the next staircase. it’s an amusing gag, but certainly extended its welcome.

next, we hone in on a closeup of an upturned hat being used as a basket for playing cards. a pan out reveals that the mouse’s “clark gable” is perched on his bed, throwing playing cards into the hat, cigar in mouth and beer by his side. his girlfriend pokes her head in—“yoohoo! hello, johnny!” johnny doesn’t answer. the mouse places her shawl and basket of apples by the door, approaching johnny’s chaise lounge. “good evening, johnny.” “well? fork over the dough.” it can’t be mel blanc, but johnny’s voice certainly does sound like it. i believe it’s the same person who voiced the gangster bird in i’m a big shot now.

an amusing closeup of the mouse’s shoe as she presses one of her buttons reading NO SALE. surely enough, the tongue of her shoe serves as a red NO SALE sign while the bottom sole extends like a cash register, its contents just a couple of coins. “i did pretty good today,” she tells johnny, collecting the four coins and placing them in johnny’s outstretched palm. the timing is very nice and heavy in the next scene as johnny counts the coins and freezes. “come on, come on, where’s the dough?” his girl shakes her head and gives a muffled “i don’t know”, but it’s clear she’s hiding something in her mouth. johnny pries her mouth open, and a telltale gold coin is perched right on top of her tongue. “sooo... holding out on me, huh?” johnny threatens to hit her, and she shields herself. she attempts to explain herself, but johnny switches the topic. “how about some dinner?” gladly, the mouse takes her leave.

while the mouse prepares to make dinner, johnny looks out of his window. outside in the snowy streets is a voluptuous mae west caricatured mouse heading into the nearby saloon, and johnny is sold. shifty eyed, johnny appears to take leave as we transition to his innocent girlfriend cooking him bacon and eggs, singing “i’d love to take orders from you” (how appropriate.) the eggs and bacon on the skillet are arranged in a skull and crossbones, bubbling along to the music. good timing as the mouse notices this, squeaks, and turns her sunny side up meal into scrambled eggs as she hurriedly rearranges the eggs on the skillet. “oh johnny, dinner’s ready!”

she goes to retrieve her abusive boyfriend, but with no luck. he isn’t in his usual chaise lounge, but there IS a note in his place: “i’m thru with you — so long! johnny” in a panic, she looks for her boyfriend, calling his name repeatedly. there are a few intriguing angles, such as an up shot as the mouse searches under the bed. the wipe transitions break momentum and urgency, though—no transition is needed. (i guess i’m still thinking of the cuts in porky in the north woods) there IS a rather funny scene as she begins to faint, but catches herself. she skitters a few step backwards, approaching a pillow on the floor, and decides she’s much more comfortable passing out there.

another clever gag as we have a time card that reads “time staggers on!” with that, a drunken, hiccuping alarm clock stumbles across the screen. the gag in itself is very much reminiscent of the gag in the girl at the ironing board, another friz cartoon where a knight literally topples over to the ground.

in the saloon, the heartbroken mouse sings a lovely rendition of “he was her man”, while the gangsters and other bad seeds fight over the free lunch, paying little attention to the song. while she’s singing, none other than johnny himself strolls arm in arm with his mae west mouse into the saloon, patrons tipping their hats out of respect. johnny’s ex-girl spots him and happily declares “JOHNNY!”, leaping off the stage and rushing to meet him. she embraces him, but johnny pushes her off coldly. “beat it! i’m through with you!”

the mouse begs for johnny return, clinging onto him, but he refuses. her incessant clinging turns into a mini dance routine as both try to push each other opposite ends, with johnny hitting her and she smacking him back (good for her! put up a fight!) on the head, pounding him into his own shoes, with just a bowler hat poking out. a similar gag would be reused in another freleng classic, daffy the commando, with the ever cowardly turtle SHUUUUUUULTZ! shultz. johnny waddles around, pulling himself out of his hat, and whacks her repeatedly. the musical timing is excellent, a mini dance routine on its own, but very morbid and disturbing. johnny beats her senseless and propels her across the room, a spittoon decorating her head to contribute to the humiliation.

thankfully, she fights back with a vengeance. the mouse grabs a nearby gun on a table and fires, repeatedly. paul smith animates the outcome as johnny narrowly dodges the bullets. “hey, be careful! you’s gonna hurt someone!” while this doesn’t come off as a joking manner, this is the first time that line has been used, which would often be used as a punchline (like daffy in riff raffy daffy: “just a minute! you’re gonna hurt somebody that way! probably me.”) and he’s right; a bullet pings him right in the chest. johnny staggers around, gasping “ya got me... ya got me...” (another first for a frequently used punchline), eventually collapsing to the ground.

johnny’s “girlfriend” panics, rushing to his side. she begs that he speak to her, crying and shaking him, but to no avail. just as she puts her head in her arms, johnny perks up, totally fine. “aww,” he sneers, “ya just grazed me.” the mouse is not having it, and smashes johnny over the head with a bottle, rendering him unconscious. good!

the next shot we find a mouse freezing out in the snow, bracing against the blustery wind, peddling apples. but it isn’t johnny’s girlfriend. in fact, it’s johnny himself. “nice red apple. apples? apples?” we pan up to see johnny’s girlfriend lounging on the all too familiar chaise, contentedly tossing playing cards into a hat. the mae west mouse from before strolls by, and johnny takes kindly to her, calling her a babe and buttering her up. all we see is a bottle hitting johnny on the head, but we know who the perpetrator is as johnny reverts back to peddling his apples like before. iris out.

an interesting approach for sure. not often you find a looney tunes drama—eventually, all of the dramas would be very clear parodies of themselves (such as tex avery’s dangerous dan mcfoo.) this is a much more somber cartoon for sure, but still has its share of laughs. some scenes dragged on too long for my tastes, primarily in the beginning half, like the thermometer gag or the gag of the naked pig, but the second half picked up the pace rather nicely. this isn’t my favorite friz cartoon (it was certainly hard to watch at times), but i commend him for making such a moody cartoon. it has a VERY good story with good storytelling, and certainly arises interest. his musical timing is superb as always, especially during the confrontation at the saloon between johnny and his girlfriend. i’m neutral on this one: i’d watch it just to check out the storytelling and see such a different, moody approach to a cartoon, but there are better cartoons out there. if you do watch it, view with discretion because it deals with abuse and some scenes are definitely hard to watch. but johnny gets what he deserves in the end, and that’s all that matters to me.

link!

[mynameispuppy]

Talking in Summer chapter 1

Hello! this is my first fanfic in years, I plan on continuing it for a while. I put information about reader’s quirk and such in my first post. 

                                                  enjoy!

As I start to fold some plain colored tees I let out a sigh, I've been on my feet all day and I can't wait to just go home and relax. An old friend of mine suggested me to the manager here at superdry© in the mall. I'm grateful to have a job but I wish I could be working closer to my goals....

Since I turned 18 and left high school my life has been just a blob heading in no particular direction.

"Hey (y/n) looks like it's 7 are you ready to take a 15?" I hear my co-worker call out to me from the front desk. "Oh- yeah sure" I politely smile back at her, she was always looking out for me with breaks and such.

After gathering my stuff I head to the nearly empty dining area in the mall. 'Only one hour left' I state in my head while I take a bite of my sandwich. I look around and spot nothing particularly of interest.

Except one person.... Next to the center fountain sits a man

I see him quite often in the evening

He's thin with strikingly white hair and dark clothing. When I first started to notice him showing up, I speculated he worked in the mall since he was there almost on a schedule, but the more I look at his appearance and the fact he has no uniform I assume he may be homeless or just doesn't have anything to do.... 'Maybe I should stop judging people so much' Old habits die hard I guess.

Looking at my phone the screen lights up '7:15... Good timing (y/n)' I shuffle around and grab my things. Looking back one last time the white haired man seems to have left. 'Oh well'

The rest of my shift flies by mostly because I just get to sit here and talking to Yume, my co-worker, while we clean up the store.

Just like clock work I head home at 8pm. Taking the evening tram about 3 blocks away and then walking the rest of the way.

I climb the steps to my apartment and stumble inside taking off my shoes and running over to my shiki futon shoved between my closet and bookshelf.

I try to check up on my social media a bit and check on things but my eyes quickly grow heavy "I guess it's been a while since I slept huh?" I chuckle to myself. Plugging in my phone I roll over and decide to sleep.

                                                ❁     ❁     ❁

The next morning is hot, around 33°C, so I decide to wear some comfortable, breathable clothes like my beige plaid skirt and a v-neck white shirt. The outfit reminds me of my old school uniform 'why not go all in then...' I figure and do pigtails aswell.

The trip to work is boring and repetitive. I wish something would spice things up...even a little. At least I get off early today.

I walk up to the big red sign of the shop and proceed in placing my bag behind the counter and sitting down.

Customers will come in check out a jacket or two and leave.

I finally get snapped out of my trance when hear my phone alarm go off "hm?" I reach down and realize I must've set an alarm for break without remembering. 'Maybe I'll go get some (favorite drink) I'm not particularly hungry this morning', grabbing my wallet I make sure my manager is all set before heading out. I take a quick little stroll under the open roof of the mall as I approach the brown fake wooden "drink shack" shop.

When I enter I see that it's still kinda slow since it's the morning hours except a couple people sitting in the back. After getting my drink I decide to head to the middle of the shop where I see a brown haired man sitting at the back bar and that same white haired man sitting at a booth.

I drink my (favorite drink) while keeping my locked gaze on the habitual man for a creepily long time. I was still tired out from my quirk so I must've been zoning out for a second too long...

He looks up at my line of sight and makes direct eye contact. 'I've never seen his eyes before... Red huh? Creepy.' I think to myself while he looks around him probably trying to see what I'm staring at. I try to fix the awkward situation by giving him a little wave but he just shoves his head back down into whatever paper he's scribbling across.

'sigh'

'you know what why not just get up and walk over there he could be a new friend'

I blush at the idea of being so bold I've never been particularly loud or extroverted before. But almost as if my embarrassment and body weren't even in tune I find myself approaching the man. I almost collapse on the booth seat across from him my legs shaking and hands in a clammy cold sweat clutching my drink. "......do..yo-you work here?" I force the conversation out trying to seem confident. His red glare slowly makes its way to my face "AT THE MALL I MEAN!" That came out louder than intended....I can feel my face get hot from all the cringe building up inside my body.

"Why are you bothering me." The words were scratchy and seem to cut out of his throat blunt and awkward. I start to wiggle uncomfortably realizing the humiliating situation I put this stranger and myself in.

"I apologize, I see you around here a lot I thought you may have noticed me." I squeeze out while looking at the table slowly scooting out of the booth.

"Right..." He trails "you work at that clothing shop next to the fountain."

I perk up a bit I guess he did take note of me. "W- yes I do," I stand up and bow "it's a pleasure to meet you officially." I scramble to be polite and smooth the situation over. "Yeah." He seems to be done with me so I nervously spit out "Well feel free to say hi anytime!" before turning back to the shop since my break was over.

I get scolded by your manager for being a bit late. But overall I'm over the moon proud of my confidence, maybe this won't turn out so bad even if he decides to decline your offer.

Quickly finishing up my last few hours of work since I only had a 4 hour shift today and decide to do some window shopping at the mall before leaving looking at other clothing shops and game stores.I had taken a study break from games, but since I have graduated, I've been trying to catch up by skipping sleep thanks to my quirk. Sadly I still find myself exhausted. Nothing catches my eye so I decide to head out.

Taking a stroll around town it's still quite sunny at 1pm, I decide to head to the park next to the local high school. A place I used to frequent a lot. Checking out my phone I see the headlines and new articles everyone seems to be in a frantic state "Destruction and mayhem..." I let slip under my breath while rolling my eyes.

This is why I want to be a veterinarian, actually be helpful. I always feel like heroes and cops are one in the same... Useless. While I start to bask in the sun I start hear squabbling between two males but their faces are blocked by the thick park trees. Leaning over I notice that one of them ran off. Spotting some oddly familiar shoes as the second person starts to walk into view.

To save myself any more staring embarrassment I quickly go back to closing my eyes at the sun only to feel the Bench's weight shift under my bottom. 'Someone is sitting next to me'. I take a peek and see the crusty pale man from the mall. "Hello?" I state looking for a response. With scrunched eyes he looks over at me and makes eye contact. 'he must not get out often' I think to myself.

"Fancy seeing you here" I chuckle to try and start a conversation. "Yeah." He rasps. 'is that all he knows how to say? What a weirdo maybe I shouldn't have approached him' I think before trying again at entertain him "Thank you accepting my of-ffer" stumbling at the end scared I might be annoying him. "Mmm" he grunts.

You're definitely annoying him.

"Do you want my number?" My words break out of my lips like water in a dam

'jeez why don't you just stalk him at this point' scolding myself.

"What makes you think I do." His words offend me in an odd way. "Well I just figured maybe we could become acquainted better that way...maybe?" Even I seem unsure of what I'm saying. Without another word he slaps his unlocked phone in my lap, hurrying to put my number in under (y/n) (l/n). "Feel free to text me anytime, I gotta head out." I say, I don't really need to leave but I'm pretty sure if I'm here any longer all my embarrassment is going to make me crumble.

bowing politely I turn to leave. "Hey." My head spins around to see the scrubby man now standing and looking at his phone, "Bye.", he nods at me before turning off and leaving as well. 'what a blunt man he must not have a lot of friends.... Oh There I go again judging I should really quit'. I seem to be filled with excitement though. Meeting new people is a rush I haven't had the pleasure of feeling in a while. I feel myself smiling all the way home.

[notimetoblog]

Quick Stories

Summary: Waking up early with Bucky is not always so bad.

A/N: HI!!!!! i’ve been thinking about this story or a while and finally had time to work on it yesterday! It is my entry to @pietrotheavenger ‘s writing challenge. Than k you so much for being so patient with me!!! I hope you guys enjoy it and as always thank so much for reading

MY STORIES

Rising before the sun, never seemed like an appealing idea. Yet, everyday for the last few months that was exactly what you had been doing. Sure, sharing a bed with Bucky had its advantages. For one, the cold fall nights in New York meant nothing to you as right beside you slept a human furnace who warmed every inch of you. He was also a massive cuddler, and you were yet to find a more comfortable place to sleep in than his arms. As the weeks passed by, however, you found yourself adopting his sleeping and rising schedule, meaning you were up before the sun as he got ready for his daily run. 

You blinked your eyes open as you felt Bucky stirring beside you. The bed shifted a bit as he turned to lay on his side and pressed up against you, his chest against your back. 

“Morning darling,” he said with his raspy voice knowing that you were surely awake. His lips found the curve of your neck, gently drawing a loving path of kisses. 

“Morning,” you replied, voice still sleepy despite the tender movements of his lips against your neck. 

“What if I skip my morning run and we go out to get some coffee,” he proposed. 

Perking up at the sound of that you replied with your own proposal as his hand moved up and down your sides. His gentle caresses and proposal helping you fight off the sleepiness that was still making your eyelids heavy.  

“What if you skip your morning run and we stay in and sleep until 10.”

“That’s an idea,” he mused, and you could almost hear the smile you were sure he was sporting. “Or we can go to that cozy coffee shop by the library and I’ll buy us all the muffins they have.”

“Sounds like a tempting offer, Barnes,” you replied as you shifted onto your back. “But nothing beats sleep for me.”

You looked up at the smiling super soldier whose tender eyes looked back at you, admiration evident even in the low lighting. He had shifted along with you as you rolled onto your back. He was now propped on his elbow, his hair draping over his face as he looked down at you.

“Come on, darling,” he began. “Its our day off. Let’s go out and enjoy the city. I can just grab a quick shower and we’ll be out of here before you know it. We’ll make a day out of it.”

“What do you have against this bed? It’s incredibly comfortable and has your still very sleepy girlfriend,” you teased.

He lowered his head, placing a tender kiss on your lips.

“Nothing,” he chuckled. “I just think we’d miss out on a lovely day if we stay in here.”

You braced yourself for what was coming. Ever since Bucky had discovered the power of his puppy dog eyes, he did not hesitate to use them. He had even managed to get Sam to side with him after flashing them his way. You had been left utterly stunned as you saw Sam, the one person you figured would see right through them, fall victim to their incredible vulnerability and innocence.

You pushed him off and quickly swooped the pillows from underneath your head, swiftly propping them up to create a barrier between you and him.

You heard his laugh emanate from behind the pillows.

“Why is there a pillow wall?” he said as he peaked over it.

“Because I don’t want to look at your face,” you quickly replied as you brought your hands up to cover your eyes.

“Tired of it already?” he laughed. “I thought it still had a few years left before you felt the need to find someone younger.”

“You’re as handsome as ever, Bucky. But your darn eyes. You know exactly what you’re doing,” you responded, eyes still covered hoping to be spared from the intensity of his puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, come on,” he said, easily knocking down your little wall of pillows. He began peppering the hands that were still covering your eyes with kisses, gently prying them away.

Shutting your eyes, you heard him laugh above you.

“Doll? Come on look at me.”

“Nuh-uh. That will only mean I will for sure be up and getting dressed after one look into your eyes.”

“You’re giving me much too much credit, Y/N. Come on, open up your eyes.”

After refusing once again, you felt his hands crawling up your sides, tickling you into finally opening up your eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks from laughter.

“That’s not fair!” you said as you tried to calm your breathing.

“All’s fair in love and war, darling,” he replied with a smirk. “Now come on, get up and let’s go!”

-------

“Not too bad, is it?” Bucky asked form across the table.

The coffee shop was not as busy as it would surely get in a few hours. Apparently, everybody in New York, except Bucky, knew and loved the benefits of sleeping in.

Bucky had immediately picked out a small table by the window, looking out to the library on the other side of the street, walking you both over to it with the coffee and muffins you had picked out. He hadn’t lied, the staff at the coffee shop had to restock the muffin display after he bought every one of them, claiming you would share with the rest of the team back home.

“It’s warm in here,” you admitted, taking your first sip of coffee.

“Did I ever tell you why I like coming to this place so much?” Bucky asked, his eyes tender again, full of that vulnerability and innocence that came with his puppy dog eyes. He looked so sincere, though, not just trying to get you to agree to something or convince you to leave your comfortable bed, but actually traveling back to something that made his face light up, his voice turn sweeter than it already was.

You shook your head silently, mesmerized by his beautiful blue eyes and voice.

“See that library?” he gestured towards the old building across the street. It was a one-story brick building that looked like it had seen a lot over the years.

Remaining quiet, you nodded.

“It’s been here for a while. I remember it being here when I was a kid. Steve and I would sit on the steps,” his gaze seemed to be focused on the library, but you could tell the library he was seeing was the one surrounded by the environment of his childhood. The one he and Steve frequented. “He would sometimes bring his sketchbook,” he continued, “and draw the people coming in and out of the building, the people on the street, or the birds in the trees. Sometimes as he drew I would come up with stories for the people walking on the street. Just random quick backstories to strangers that we would most likely never see again.”

His eyes moved, gaze now focused on you, a warm smile in his face as he refocused in the present.

You felt as your own smile spread on your lips. It was impossible not to smile when the love of your life looked so happy, so peaceful.

“We didn’t have easy lives,’ he recalled, “but those brief moments where we let our imaginations run wild made up for a few of the things we had to deal with.”

“We should do it now,” you proposed. “Come up with random stories for the people we see.”

His smile grew wider, shone brighter, as he heard what you were proposing.

“You’d want to do that?”

“Of course!” you smiled. “It sounds like tons of fun although I may be bad at it.”

“Well I might be too since I haven’t done it in so long but let’s give it a try.”

He cleared his throat then, dramatically rolling up his sleeves as he searched the shop for a person to come up with a story for.

“There,” he whispered, his gaze focused on a young woman across the room. She was typing furiously on her laptop, eyes red. Her messy hair was poking out of her beanie. “Her name is Abigail, but she lets her close friends call her Abby. Only her close friends, though. One time this random guy in her building tried to call her that and he ended up with a bloody nose. Poor fella didn’t see it coming. All that typing has made her hands strong, so his nose had no chance against her fist,” he stopped as he heard you chuckle, eyes coming back to look into yours. “She’s here, typing away, because in order to avenge his broken noise, the guy, who happens to live in the apartment above her, keeps dragging his furniture and doesn’t let her study in the comfort of her own home. He does it in the middle of the night too, so she’s beyond tired. But don’t worry, doll, that girl’s words are just as powerful as her fist. She’s furiously typing up a letter that will surely get the guy kicked out of the building for being an ass.”

You clapped your hands to congratulate him for the story he had just made up on the spot.

“I’m impressed Barnes, guess you were just being humble back when you said you weren’t going to be good at this.”

“Well, I try,” he said, patting his own back as he spoke.

“Alright, my turn. Let’s see, who’s going to be my first victim,” your eyes moved about the shop trying to find an interesting person. Your eyes paused their scanning when your gaze landed on the barista that had prepared your coffees. He was a young man, probably in his 20’s. He had been incredibly polite, and you had seen how much of an impressive collection of tattoos he had going up his arm. “Him,” you said as you nodded your head in his direction. “His name is Eric and he has an amazing singing voice although he tries to hide it. He’s been told just how much of a talent he has but he doesn’t believe it, always thinks his friends are just setting him up. But part of him hopes he can gather up the courage to sing in public, because he’s been writing these songs for a girl that’s caught his eye.”

“Is it Abby?” Bucky gasped.

“No,” you laughed, “and unless you want to be punched, it’s Abigail to you, sir. It’s not her but the girl is a customer. He’s written tons of songs for her and they all seem to focus on her laugh. Their interactions are always brief, so he only has a few refence points, but he knows that she’s something special. Maybe he’ll sing it for her soon.”

“I hope he does,” Bucky whispered, completely wrapped up in your story.

“Me too,” you agreed.

“Ok, not bad for a rookie,” he teased. “I’m going with him,” he pointed to a man across the street dropping off books at the donation bin in front of the library. “He’s a Wall Street guy named Mason. Guy is loaded with money, but he always remembers where he came from. He grew up with very little, but his parents always made sure he was happy and comfortable. He knows how hard it can get and so he hosts events with his fancy Wall Street friends where they collect donations for those who are in need. This time, they collected books for children. So, he’s here, early in the morning to drop those off before he heads off to work.”

“Aw,” you cooed. “Mason’s so sweet!”

‘He is a great guy,” Bucky confirmed as if he truly knew the man across the street.

You spent a few hours in the coffee shop, laughing at the silly stories Bucky came up with, or almost tearing up at the sweet situations his imagination would somehow manage to conjure up.

As the time went on, the coffee shop became busier, the streets filling up with people rushing t their jobs or kids rushing to school.

“We should probably get going,” you said noticing how many people were drinking their coffees without a table. “We’ve been hogging this place for too long.”

“Just one more story,” Bucky replied softly. “Please?”

“Ok,” you said, heart melting at how happy he was.

“My next story will be based on,” he let his gaze dance through the shop, sometimes stopping on certain people as if debating if the story he could come up for them was worthy of being the last story of the day. After a few seconds, though, his gaze returned to you, eyes sparkling. “My next and final story will be on you,” he announced.

“That’s cheating,” you laughed. “I’m not a stranger.”

“Well my story won’t be based on your past. I’m basing mine on your future.”

“My future?” you asked, very intrigued by what he was about to say.

“That’s right. I’m breaking all the rules, just for you darling.”

“Well let’s hear it then,” you said as you leaned across the table, resting your chin on your hands.

“I’m sorry to say, but your future will be full of early mornings, because I’m making sure that I will be waking up next to you for as long a possible. I’m sorry to say that you’ll have to put up with my face for a very long time because, darling, I’m never letting go of you. Your future will be full of love because I’ll live every day of my life trying to make you feel just like you make me feel; special, loved, and needed. I love you with every single part of me. From the part that makes up quick stories of strangers to the one that’s intensely aware of how delicious muffins are. I love you like I thought I’d never get to love.”

“I love you too,” you responded softly, heart beating fast at his lovely story of your future.

“Thanks for waking up early with me, love,” he smiled, hands reaching across the table to intertwine with yours. “Didn’t even have to bring out the puppy eyes.”

You laugh, loving every single part of this morning because you knew that as long as it was with him, the sun didn’t need to be out for you to feel warm. He was your own personal sun, shining down at you with his love and care.  

—–

Bucky Tags :D

@camillechan @just-add-butter @buckyisthepuresthuman @carry-on-my-fandom @creideamhgradochas @sixweekcure4dreams @verycoolveryunique @dugan365 @jitterbuck @buckysmusculararm @headinthe-fridge @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @hedwigthelegend @sappybarnes @coal000 @the-whitewolfie @natcad @winters-beauty @dixonsbugaboo @sawdustandsugar @silverbvcky  @whyugottabsorude @theoutlinez @killjoynotes @agentpegcxrter @demonspawn2468 @books-movies-eternal @buckysbeech @thefridgeismybestie @lionheo04 @pinkfairyfluff @imaginecrushes @cauraphernelia @angieptt @fridolf-arach @nerdgirljen @bucky-is-a-hero-fightme @consttantina @titty-teetee @bfuckjames @crowleysqueenofhell @sebtrashcan-stan @jaamesbbarnes @heartssick @losemymemory @redstarstan @dracris33 @fuckthatfeeling @tamed-chaos @bringmetoawonderland @mlehbleh @mawimey @delicatelyherdreams @buckyswinterchildren @jaysaku @stanclub  @your-pixels-are-showing  @thisismysecrethappyplace @who-the-heck-knows @starfisharchives @plumsforbuckxx  @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @bambamwolf87 @ohhhotstan @whileinparis @sebbysstangirl @trashpandabarnes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @ohhhotstan @lokilvrr @freyjawalker @until-theend-oftheline @hello-lucifer-here @sold-my-soul-in-2016 @ifyousayyouloveme 

[yukiwrites]

Anxiously Waiting

Thanks the support as always, @breeachuu! This was so fun to write, I hope you like it!

Summary: Nidra’s waiting anxiously for her baby Meliodas to be born; so much that she’s living Robin’s pregnancy for her instead. That makes her family worry a bit over her own peace of mind...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

Nidra welcomed the new year with a cheer she didn't remember having ever since she was young -- to her almost immortal days, celebrating the coming of another year seemed pointless, until she had found herself a family, that is.

Especially now that she was expecting her first baby, Meliodas.

She sang a very old lullaby whose lyrics were lost to the passing of time, bubbling new ones herself to its rhythm.

Lullay, lullay, la, lullay, ♫

Lullay, there I laid, alone la, lullay ♪

For so long one thoughte would last ♫

For all the evers, lullay ♪

Alone no more now I wait, ♫

For the day I can sing this lullay ♪

To you, my kin, my babe ♫

Lullay, lullay, la lullay ♪

"That's actually something nostalgic for me as well, Mother." Meliodas noted as he entered the dim-lit room Nidra had been watching the faraway city from.

"Oh? So I indeed sang it for you in your crib, Son?" She looked up at him without ever stopping stroking her stomach -- her pregnancy was not yet noticeable, but that wouldn't stop her from caressing it.

Meliodas pulled a chair so as to sit closer to his mother in her people-watching, although the nearest people in their sights were so far they were the size of ants. "Well, I cannot say I remember the lyrics, but this melody fills my heart with warmth."

Nidra settled back at the chair, smiling softly at nowhere in particular; simply enjoying the passing of time. "So does mine. I have a faint recollection of someone singing it to me back in my early days -- perhaps my mother; I could not say. But this feeling -- the very same one you fell and that I share -- I want your little brother to feel it as well."

The younger manakete nodded, crossing his legs over the chair. He simply closed his eyes and nodded, almost being lulled by his mother's words. Nidra went on.

"I have a long term ahead of me -- surely Morgan will be born before you do this time around, but I shall enjoy every little moment of it; both mine and Robin's pregnancy."

"Mhm," Meliodas nodded off, enjoying how even Nidra's voice sounded rhythmic, as though she were still singing. "Lady Robin did mention she would visit frequently, huh...?"

The mother trailed her fingers through her stomach, wanting it to swell already. "Indeed; though I do not want her to exert herself -- once she's far enough into her term, we shall go to her instead."

"Until... you're far enough... as well, Mother..." Meliodas tried to keep up with the conversation, but sleep was getting ahold of him fast. "You also shouldn't over-exert... yourself."

Smiling, Nidra slowly got up from her seat so as to pick a blanket over the nearby couch. "Sweet child. Thank you for your concern." She covered the now asleep Meliodas with it, caressing his cheek right after. "Worry not for I only wish the best for this child -- for you. And your sisters, of course; the one that is still to come included, as well."

As though summoned, a white head popped by the door frame. "Oh, Cyn just went to sleep too. Want me to move Meli to his bed?" Henry whispered, carefully stepping into the room. "I'm stronger than I look, ya know!"

Nidra almost snorted, tip-toeing to her husband so as to steal a peck on his lips. "No need to tell me that, love. I know how strong you are."

Henry wriggled his eyebrows with a smirk. "Yeah! Like that time I lifted you during-"

Smelling a naughty remark, Nidra simply stepped on her husband's toe as she passed by him, giggling while he yelped right before laughing.

"You always know what I'm gonna say! Is this what being married is about? Mind-reading? Hmmm, guess I'm gonna try harder to surprise you-"

The manakete choked, her face reddening. "Do not say these kind of stuff in front of other people! Especially the children!" She hissed, mindful of the asleep Meliodas by Henry's arms.

"Sooo I can say them when there's no one around? Gotcha."

Nidra covered her face with both hands to hide her embarrassment, though she didn't deny it. Henry giggled the whole way to Meliodas' room, carefully putting him to bed.

"Now, where were we?"

May these peaceful days last forever. Though forever could hurry a bit, in Nidra's case.

Her pregnancy progressed slowly, as it was the custom for manaketes. In contrast, it was as though Robin's term went in the blink of an eye -- soon it was Lucina's birthday month. And, if they take future Morgan as reference, little Morg would be born less than two weeks after Luci's day of birth.

"Ah, while I know I should not be complaining, this is so unfair," Nidra commented during one her visits to the castle. Robin was already on her 40th week, so the long walk from the castle to Nidra's house was completely out of question to her. Well, not by her own standards, but neither her husband nor her friend would allow it, so she simply complied.

In contrast, although Nidra was technically on her fifth month, the bump on her belly was still very small.

"I know you want to meet your baby soon, but do you realize how much you've told me how unfair long terms are?" Robin teased under her teacup, watching her friend frown slightly. "Fourteen times. Fourteen! Just today!"

"But I cannot help it!" The manakete whined, quickly placing her cup over the saucer. "You look so radiant, beautiful and motherly with your belly like that! I also want to experience it... We barely had a good belly bump."

Robin choked on her tea. "You wanted us to bump our bellies together?" She coughed as Nidra blushed.

"I wanted to make them touch, yes. Preferably bare skinned, just so we could have our children converse for a little while. But I forgot just how quick human pregnancies are when you told me about yours." She sighed wishfully. "Will you not get pregnant again once I'm with Cynthia? But be sure to only conceive in the middle of my term so we can actually have some fun motherly time."

Once again Robin choked, but on air. "I didn't even give birth to Morgan yet and you already want me pregnant again? Nidra!"

The manakete pouted, crouching in front of her friend and hugging her overgrown belly. "I do not see why not. Having as many children as you can should be any mother's wish, no? I do know that, although happy with the four I will one day have, I surely do not want to stop at that."

"Oh, Nidra," Robin cleared her throat, finally back to breathing properly. She patted her friend's head, finding it funny that she was living through her pregnancy more than Robin herself. "... I can't say I never thought of it, honestl-"

Nidra perked up, her eyes shining. Robin lifted one finger, making the manakete stop in the middle of the sentence she was about to say.

"But I keep thinking... That if I have another child, it will mean that Lucina and Morgan's world ended before they could meet their sibling and that- that makes me feel terrible. I don't want them to miss out on anything else. Not anymore."

Blinking, Nidra silently returned to her seat. "Although I understand where you are coming from, I do not think they share this mindset of yours -- they are your true children, Robin, irregardless of whose womb they came out of. If you are ever with child after Morgan, it will be their sibling all the same."

The Queen's hand flinched over her own stomach, her eyes fixed upon it for a while. "... I suppose so, yeah. But still."

"Indeed. You and your 'but still'ses." Nidra smiled, meaning no ill-will.

They exchanged a few more words and laughter before it was time for Nidra to leave, making sure to walk all the way back instead of transforming. She had been turning into her dragon form less and less with the passing of months -- even now, the last time she had turned had been two moons ago. Her heart worried for her half-human baby the same as her head, and her very body did not feel the need to turn, perhaps as a self-preservation method.

Because of that, Nidra came to enjoy taking long walks, though of course not as much as she enjoyed flying. Still, she somehow did not miss flying as much as she thought she would, most likely due to the fact that she knew that the wait would be worth it: to undergo the entire term to finally meet her little boy and teach him all that it meant to be a dragon; to teach him how to fly, how to shed, how to transform, how to read the stars and recognize other dragons...

Oh, how she longed for it!

"It is unfair, after all," she whispered to herself as she found Henry, Meliodas and Cynthia waiting for her at the castle gates. "I want to meet him already."

The preparations for the princess' birthday turned out of proportions since it was the first grand party after the missing Queen had been found: there would be a festival in town as well as another, smaller one inside the open parts of the castle for the populace and the nobles alike.

Although now used to humans after millennia of not interacting with them, Nidra thought it best not to attend to the festival in town and stop by the castle after the festivities had died down a bit to give her goddaughter a bear, well, dragon hug.

"I'm gonna go down to town and bring you lots of stuff, Mother! I hear they invented a new sweet just for Luci's birthday so I'm gonna grab 'em for you!" Cynthia eagerly shook her Mother's hand before setting out to the festival with Henry.

Meliodas chose not to go and stay with Nidra instead, her anxiety of finally being pregnant somehow bleeding into him. He had heard her and Henry talking about transforming during the pregnancy a few months back and, ever since, felt chills coming up his spine whenever he thought about it.

Especially because he often found Nidra polishing her dragonstone, somehow looking at it with longing in her eyes. "Mother, wouldn't it be better to, um, hide away your dragonstone somewhere? I actually thought of sneaking it out of your sight, but I did not want to rob you of something so important."

Blinking, Nidra took a moment to catch on to what her son was saying. They had barely gotten inside in silence, so the sudden topic took her off guard.

He had waited until he was alone with her to talk about this matter since he remembered how she had taught him in the future; how manaketes must never lose sight of their dragonstones.

Nidra could see how fidgety that topic made her son: his shoulders and jaw were stiff, though his eyes were looking straight at her, serious as he had always been about weighty topics. "Oh, Son." She took his hand on hers, guiding him to her room, then towards the velvet box she kept her dragonstone at. "That topic you overheard is making you feel uneasy, yes?"

"So you did know I was listening in..." His head drooped in guilt, but Nidra caught his nose playfully.

"Silly, of course I knew. Come here," she took him to a nearby couch, holding her stone close to her chest. "Taking this from me will not take my ability transform away. Neither would it take yours if I hid your stone."

"What?" He frowned in confusion, "but I thought we could only transform with the stones..."

Nidra caressed his cheek with her thumb. "We are born with the blood of dragons, Son. We are neither fully dragon nor fully humanoids, but a mix of both. Though your and your sister's human blood is stronger since your father is human; but I digress -- the dragonstone only gives us the ability to not lose ourselves to our dragon tendencies. Should we transform without it and be not revert back in a certain period of time, we would simply turn into animals without a conscious thought. Larger and more colorful wyverns, if you will."

Meliodas' mouth was agape in shock. "I had no idea..."

"This is not something we say to youg'uns, so it is not surprising that my future self kept this from you." She placed the stone on a nearby table and took her son's hands on hers, caressing them with her thumb. "First we must get used to controlling our dragon form lest it consumes us instead, and it takes a great deal of mind power to be able to transform without the stone; even more so to revert back."

"Because our inner dragons are stronger than us?"

"Hm, perhaps I did not put it right. We are one, us and our dragons. What can control us instead are our instincts as creatures. Without our conscious thought, we simply go back to the natural state of every animal. And let me tell you, Son, the will to live instinctively is way much too seducing for young manaketes to resist; they would lose themselves before being able to consciously transform back without the aid of the dragonstone. Hence, we simply do not tell them they can transform without aid at all until they've matured enough."

Curious about his roots but even more worried about his Mother's pregnancy, Meliodas glanced at her shiny stone before going back to her eyes. "Then, even if I had hidden it, you could've still..."

"Indeed."

He stayed silent for a beat, considering many factors. He worried for his mother, but he wanted to understand more about himself; now that he knew a bit more than before, he actually wanted to try it-

"Absolutely not." She squeezed his hands.

"But I did not say anything-" He gasped in surprise.

"I will sew your stone on your hip before you even think about transforming without it for the next millennia, young man."

"A millennia?! M-Mother, be reasonable-"

"One thousand years, Meliodas. Nothing more, nothing less." She narrowed her eyes, her grip growing stronger to the point of hurting his skin.

"V-very well, Mother, I understan-"

The front door banged open, starling the both of them, though Nidra had felt their presence approaching. "Meli! You won't believe what we heard in the city!" Cynthia stomped around the house, looking for her brother. "Meli!" She huffed, stumbling at the doorstep. "I heard that Owain, Severa and Inigo are back! It's the talk around town!"

"O-oh," still a bit baffled from the serious topic, Meliodas couldn't match his sister's excitement, "that's- marvelous! Are they back in the castle? Did you talk to them?"

Panting, Cynthia's smile diminished. "Huh? Uh, well, I wanted to run and tell you the news right away so I didn't have time to look for them -- the town's bustling with people! I think everyone from all three kingdoms came to the capital tonight!"

"Oh, that's a shame -- about not meeting them, that is. I am sure we can look for them some other time." He glanced from his mother to his sister. "For now, I think that our priority should be to tend to Mother."

Cynthia caught her breath. "Yeah, that's true! I think that's also why I came running home instead; 'cause I wanted to tell you and Mom the news before going to meet them on my own. It wouldn't be fair if only I was the one to see them, after all."

"Hey, I was there too, you know!" Henry laughed behind his daughter, making her yelp in surprise.

"Whoa, Father! I didn't even see you running behind me!"

"Your dad's fast and strong for a human, ey?" He bleped, making all three manaketes laugh, masking Nidra's teary face. Such considerate children she had!

"It's unfair, after all," she whispered to herself in such a low voice not even Meliodas picked up.

With the day of Morgan's birth approaching, Nidra considered spending a week or two in the castle. But, surprisingly, the one who said no was none other than Henry.

Offended, Nidra was ready to fight for her cause of seeing her second godchild be born, but Henry tenderly held her hand in his before she could even breathe in to argue.

"I remember how you were back then, y'know." He said in an uncharacteristically serious voice, his eyes showing sorrow for the first time in a long while. "Being around a pregnant Robin and wanting to live a pregnancy through her... it made you anxious, even more than usual." He slid one hand to her belly, now properly sticking out as is the 'norm' for pregnant women in Nidra's book. "You've been walking 'round and visiting her and smiling and stuff but I know you, Ni-Ni. You're too anxious."

Nidra's chin trembled, moved that her husband was so attentive but also outraged that he was in the way of her witnessing Morgan's birth. "That's still not-"

"I'm-" Henry interrupted by raising his voice half of an octave, but that was enough to startle Nidra into shutting up. "I'm worried, Ni-Ni. Your term is longer than a human's and you're anxious everyday by being around pregnant human women 'cause you wanna meet our baby, too." He pressed his forehead on hers, looking down at her stomach. "That's gotta be bad for the baby, yeah? I talked with the Crazy Lady one of these days about it 'cause she's the most anxious person I know and I know a bunch of crazy peeps," he talked about Olivia, the dancer, "and she told me she got super sick during her pregnancy 'cause she didn't stop worrying! She worried about the laundry, about practicing, about being seen, about her weight, about her baby's health, about Inigo who was never coming home, about having only half of her family, about-" his voice started to sound hurried and anxious. Nidra felt her eyes burn with tears.

"Henry-"

"About so much stuff, Ni-Ni. She got super sick during her term and almost had baby Inigo before old Inigo's actual birthday. Or I dunno, by the way she put it I think she said that anxiety is like poison for the baby. He feels everything you feel, right? I don't get pregnancies much, but he's inside you right now, right? You're mad at me right now and he's feeling it too, but he's so small and-"

Nidra could hear the tears in her husband's voice. She shed her own as well.

"And every time you say that it's unfair and keep fidgeting in your seat and polishing your dragonstone I think I die a bit inside, and it's not even the good kind of death; I don't want Meli to be poisoned inside you, Nidra. So, don't go to the castle anymore, 'kay? We can send Meli or Cyn to tell them about this or something, but I want you to focus on OUR baby, not other people's. Please? Stay with me here?"

Sniffling, Nidra rested her head on her husband's shoulder. "Oh, Henry! Forgive me, please, forgive me... I was not thinking that just wanting to meet my baby could actually have an impact on him... It's the first time that the time passes so slowly for me, so I just- oh, how foolish I have been!"

"Yeah," he nodded, lightly wrapping his arms around her. She sobbed by his shoulder, apologizing to both her husband and her unborn son.

"I-I vow to think of only you and him from now on, Henry." She sobbed. "F-forgive me..."

The mage nudged his wife's pointy ear, nodding a wordless 'yeah' before kissing her cheek. "Hey, I'm just glad you didn't eat me or something for saying that."

"Hah," she snorted amidst the mess of tears and snot, squeezing her husband with everything she had. "I would never! ... Probably."

He giggled playfully. "Eek!"

Morgan's birth day came and went, the entire kingdom rejoicing with the birth of the young prince.

Neither Meliodas nor Cynthia went to the castle to explain Nidra's absence in sympathy of her self-imposed house arrest. They did send letters, though, and would make it an habit to converse with their friends through birds.

As though the anxiety were a weight off of her shoulders, the time actually passed faster now that Nidra focused only on herself and her family -- too fast, if you may.

She worried that her term was coming to an end too quickly, for manakete standards, since it had been barely 10 months since she discovered the pregnancy and she was already due in less than 4 weeks. But those worries were put to rest before they turned into poison by none other than Nah and Nowi, who had stopped by one day to chat.

Nidra had been always conscious of her half-human baby, but never truly imagined that her pregnancy would be much shorter BECAUSE he was of mixed blood. Nowi's information about it truly brought her peace to deliver without worries, and although she didn't really think she'd get along with the younger manakete, from now on she might.

The day Meli was born, Nidra suddenly wanted to deliver him by herself inside the stream behind their house -- Henry, Meliodas and Cynthia had to haul her out of the water at least three times before she got too weak to walk and was forced to give birth in her and Henry's room as they had planned the whole time (later she would say it was that draconic instinct taking the best out of her).

The birthing went smoothly, even moreso than they expected: mixed manaketes were much smaller than pure blooded ones, although still bigger than normal humans. Nidra's body, built to deliver a pure blooded manakete, delivered the tiny Meli without much trouble, much to the entire family’s relief.

Nidra was still crying five hours after the birth, never letting go of young Meli as he himself had stopped his wailing and slept peacefully in his mother's arms.

"Heyyy, when is it gonna be my turn? I only touched him once!" Henry poked his wife's wet cheeks. She giggled, snuggling in her little bundle of joy.

"Hush, Henry. Let me have this."

"Muuh," he faked a pout, leaning on her shoulder to look at their baby. "Life's not so unfair after all, huh?"

"Life is wonderful." Nidra said immediately. "Thank you for opening my eyes that day, Henry. Thank you for being with me, for delivering our son, for loving me for-"

"Hey, now's my turn to say hush," he put his index over her lips. "That's okay. If I had to thank you for everything you've given me, we'd be here all night!"

"Hah, truly."

"You finally stopped crying." He dried her face with his thumb. "Let's just compromise in saying one thing, yeah?" He nudged his nose on hers.

"Of course." She closed her eyes, their breaths intertwining. "I love you." They said in unison.

[greyias]

Taking a bath together for Theron and Grey :D

Oops! This isn’t a holiday piece! But it is the last of the “acts of intimacy” prompts that have been sitting in my askbox since August. Sorry for the delay, Nonnie! I’m apparently a really slow writer.

Just a little follow-up piece to a previous ficlet, because apparently after that brief fit o’ angst these two needed a little fluff.

There were apparently some perks to having a Mystic as a friend when on Voss, especially when traveling there on the say-so of one. Less hassle through customs, getting your pick of speeders, and also apparently, getting the royal treatment at the local establishments. Theron was going to need pass along his thanks to Sana-Rae when they got back to Odessen. The Pel-Ki Hot Springs were not as frequent a travel stop as the Shrine of Healing, but still saw plenty of visitors even in the time of the Eternal Empire. Most of the offworlders, and a few Voss as well, had given them the stink-eye as they were escorted past the long waiting line into one of the private rooms normally reserved for citizens.

The lobby area had about a dozen signs reminding offworlders of all of the intricate and various rules for the springs: no clothes, no loud noises, no splashing, and several emphatic variations on no hanky-panky. Of course, that probably wasn’t much of a problem over on the public side of the springs, as the pools over there were completely natural and unfiltered, and the stench of sulfur wafted out into the lobby anytime one of the doors to that area opened. That wasn’t the case over in the private baths. Set back in a dimly lit area of the sanctuary, the filtered pools were painstakingly and lovingly carved into the architecture and provided a much more relaxed and pleasant experience.

Theron leaned back into one of the seats that had been carved into the large pool’s greater structure, the warm water coming almost up to his collarbone. Like all of the amenities, it had been designed with much taller individuals in mind. He was a decent height for a human but when standing next to a Voss, Theron looked almost stunted. He sent a curious glance over to his companion, who at almost half a foot shorter than him, had found a much shallower ledge to perch on.

Grey was glancing around the darkened room curiously, eyes continually straying to the Voss attendant at the far side of the room who was paying the offworlders very little mind at the moment. He watched as she shifted uncomfortably, trying to cross her arms and legs in a way that preserved some propriety, and felt a small tinge of guilt at her obvious discomfort. He’d wanted to wash off the remnants of the tombs they’d been exploring all day, the ancient grime seeming to settle into every crack and pore. He’d practically leapt at the chance to visit the springs when one of their guides had mentioned them in an offhand comment about their healing properties. The bruises that the Jedi had acquired from their close encounter at the last set of ruins they’d been exploring were nowhere near serious enough for a visit to the Shrine of Healing, but a nice long soak in hot mineral water definitely wouldn’t hurt.

She caught his eye and he tilted his head at her, partially in question, partially in invitation. She flushed some, and gaze never straying from the bored Voss who had not glanced at her even once, glided through the water to join him near his deep perch. The attendant might not have had any interest in the naked woman underneath the water, but Theron himself couldn’t tear his gaze away. It was nothing he hadn’t seen countless times before, but it was a sight that had yet to grow old for him. He felt a familiar lick of heat start up low in his belly, and the sudden flush spreading throughout him couldn’t be completely blamed by the steam rising off the surface of the pool.

The water gently lapped against his chest as her motions made small waves, sloshing inelegantly around them as she came to rest next to him.

“He’s not looking, you know,” Theron joked quietly.

“I’m not… worried about that,” she shot back, but the way she hugged her chest with one arm as she tried to find a relaxing position in the deep water said otherwise.

“Sure you aren’t,” he teased. “Besides, I don’t think you’re his type. He probably likes them blue and much taller.”

“Is that a height joke?”

He hummed noncommittally as his fingers ghosted along her spine, a shiver running across her skin in their wake. Her eye roll at him was half-hearted at best, her body unconsciously drifting closer to him at the brief contact. He kept up the action, partially just because she was close enough and he loved the silky feeling of her skin underneath the mineral water, but also as a small reassurance that she was still there. The adrenaline rush after her brief disappearance had faded, but it had stoked unpleasant memories that took much longer to lock back away. 

He decided to distract himself in the best way possible, by ignoring it completely, and instead leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “You’re my type, though.”

“I thought you said you wanted to come here to relax.”

“This is relaxing,” he insisted even as his fingers followed the line from her spine down, dipping much, much lower.

Her eyes flew back to the Voss attendant, who seemed more interested in stacking and folding towels than the clear improprieties happening underneath the surface of the water. “You’re going to get us kicked out of here.”

“Nah,” he said lightly, “I’m observing the ‘no shouting’ rule.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she huffed, “and you know it.”

He couldn’t suppress his grin at the annoyed expression she fixed him with. One day ruffling her out of that serene Jedi facade would lose its charm, but today was not that day. “I’m not splashing either.”

“You are impossible.”

He quirked a brow. “If I’m so impossible why haven’t you gone back to your lonely little ledge over there?”

“It’s just warmer over here,” she insisted, and then dropped her voice further. “And also this is a better hiding spot.”

“I guess it’s good that Sana-Rae’s connections got us access to the private room then. Would you have even been able to set foot in a pool full of strangers?”

Her eye twitched as she clearly started imagining the scenario. “I just feel so… exposed.”

“We can leave if you really want to,” he reminded her.

“But we just got here,” she hedged, “and the water does feel nice…”

He bit back on his automatic response of that not being the only thing that felt nice, although he was pretty sure she read that unspoken sentiment in the way his fingers kept dancing lightly across her skin. The fact that she was leaning slightly into the motion told him that she wasn’t opposed to his touch, but in deference to her protests he shifted his attention a little further north of the equator. Some of the tension released from her shoulders, but he noted the brief flash of confusion and disappointment. Huh, perhaps she was more concerned with the lack of complete privacy than breaking the rules. Would wonders never cease.

“So I take it all that galaxy saving before now didn’t provide much time for visiting the local hot spots?”

“I encouraged my crew to take breaks,” she said hesitantly.

“Oh, just your crew?”

“Well,” she hedged, “they would ask—”

“They? Or Doc?”

“Okay, mostly Doc, but still, it was hard to justify relaxing and unwinding with how much was at stake. Especially during our first trip to Voss.”

Theron quirked a brow at her, reviewing his mental history of her file. “Was that right after…?”

She nodded solemnly, and his fingers stopped the gentle stroking to rest his entire hand firmly on the small of her back. He didn’t need to mention out loud the time she and her crew had been held captive in the then-Sith Emperor’s fortress, nor what she’d been forced to do while under his control. Even all these years later, it was like a fresh wound — or maybe just a reopened one, considering who had taken up residence in her mind while she’d been frozen in carbonite. 

“It was easier to keep busy too. Trying to stop Vitiate’s ritual… it gave me something to focus on.”

He pressed his lips together, wondering if this was one of those moments where he should let her talk, or where she wanted to think about other things and would appreciate a distraction and change of subject. He was saved from having to guess as her gaze broke away, drifting to the darkened carvings etched into the dimly lit architecture.

“Do you think I should have?” She spoke after a long, quiet moment.

“Should have what?” he asked cautiously.

“Taken a break. Stopped to appreciate things in the moment.”

“I think,” he said, reaching up with his other hand to brush away the bangs falling into her face, “that you did whatever felt right at the time. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” she muttered, mostly to herself, “if it was worth it, considering how everything turned out.”

He tilted his head, trying to figure out where this was coming from. “What do you mean?”

“He was off in Wild Space,” she said quietly, “building up yet another Empire. The body I struck down was just one of his vessels. Now I’m another. Or was. I… still don’t know what happened out in those woods on Odessen.”

Like usual, Theron didn’t really have the answer for the deeper issues of the Force, fate, or the big questions in life. All he had was everything in front of him, which included one frowning Jedi Master. He didn’t even bother glancing at their attendant to see if he was watching, Theron just leaned forward and planted a light kiss on her nose.

“Sorry,” she flushed, “just thinking aloud.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said quietly, “if that’s what you want to do.”

“I think I’d like to relax?” It was said hesitantly, as if she wasn’t sure she was allowed to actually admit that aloud. “You would think as a Jedi I’d be able to do that.”

“There’s a difference between meditation and relaxation,” Theron teased lightly, “and you don’t really have the gills for trying to meditate underwater.”

“Who says I’d be underwater?”

“Well, your height for one.”

He quirked a brow and her mouth dropped open slightly in mock indignation. Seizing the opportunity, he surged forward capturing her lips in a kiss, and while being careful of her bruises, used his grip on her back to pull her into his lap. The sudden movement made a small splash, and her eyes immediately went to the attendant, who it was possible was just asleep at this point. Did Voss sleep with their eyes open or shut? He would have consulted the HoloNet for that answer, but was far more preoccupied at the moment.

Having her this close sent a thrill straight down his spine, desire pooling in his gut as he deepened the kiss. With her current position, there was very little doubt to the state of his own arousal, and as he broke away, he saw that a deep flush had spread far beyond her cheeks.

“This really isn’t the place,” she said breathlessly.

“Then consider it a preview,” he said, voice low, “for when we get back to our room. If you’re interested in continuing this particular… conversation.”

Somehow the blush in her cheeks darkened further, sending another rush of heat through him. This time it definitely couldn’t be blamed on the steam. “I think I’d like that.”

To Theron’s credit, his smile was only a little feral. “Me too.”

“Although we do have almost an hour left,” she said, “it seems like a wasted opportunity if we leave now.”

“Some things are worth waiting for,” he agreed. “Besides, I still need to teach you how to relax.”

“Why does that sound a little like the blind leading the blind?”

Theron rolled his eyes, and even if she did have a point, he wasn’t going to admit it aloud. She shot him a shy little smirk of her own before readjusting her position until her back was pressed against his chest and her head was resting against his shoulder. 

“This work?” she asked a bit dubiously.

“It’s a start.”

The reply might have been sarcastic, but the sting of it was taken out by him threading their fingers together and resting his cheek against the top of her head. Between the warmth of the water and the feeling of her skin pressed against his, Theron felt his tension and stress begin to fade away. While not a natural inclination for either of them, they both slowly began to relax and settle in, letting the rare moment of peace stretch out.

[snarky-styles]

Another One Where She’s Named Carolina

The record shop was open until 2 am and Carolina made a point to complain about it every damn chance she had. Why would a record shop stay open for so long? Sure, it was in the middle of the downtown center, but they offered no alcohol to the college students wandering about, only pretentious indie music that played from the speakers outside. Not only was it open all night, but the doors had to be open to “invite in” customers and it was so damn cold.  Carolina was nearly always cold, wrapped in blankets or throws to keep warm. Due to her lower than normal body temperature, she was forced to wear several layers just to keep from shivering too violently. Tonight was no different, except she had snuck in a space heater since her manager wasn’t there to yell at her. Sure, it was a fire hazard, but she was genuinely concerned about hypothermia at this point.  She could hear the bustle of the streets outside, random drunken yells and shoes hitting the pavement mixing with the upbeat vibes she had put on the speakers. She hated the late shift, how tired she’d get, how cold it was, how no one cared to go into the shop, so all she could do was sort through the records. However, there were a couple of highlights.  She was able to make her own playlist for the shop and outside of it, she could get lots of homework done since she wasn’t dealing with customers and she was able to become familiar with all the new and old vinyl. That’s what she was doing right now. Sat on the floor, wearing a denim jacket over a thick sweater, filtering through a new vinyl shipment. Her slightly shivering fingers flitted through the old and new covers, her eyes interestedly peaking at each one. Once in awhile, when she saw an artist she was familiar with or just some really cool cover art, she’d take a second to examine it. This made the process go by a bit slower, but it did make it a whole lot more interesting.  She was sorting them alphabetically, making piles on the floor so she could put them away properly when the time arose.  It made a good last task for the night, something that wouldn’t make her entirely too bored and something that kept her moving and her blood from freezing in her veins. She had already sorted through one large stack, just one more tote-full remaining. She felt she had made progress, sorting them all into their letters, but as she looked around, it looked like she had done more damage than good.  All of the piles looked messier than she remembered and there was a lot more vinyl than she had thought.  With a small huff, she decided to clean up the mess around her, just in case some group of drunk adults milled in. Grabbing a stack of “A’s” in her arms, she swung her hips to the music as she made her way over to the correct bin. Times like these, where one of her favorite classic songs played on the loud speakers, she was glad she had free reign over the music during her shifts.  She gently placed each vinyl into the bin, arranging them neatly as she continued to sway slightly to her selected songs. “Dancin’ lady? I’m on your wall!” An excited voice slurred, which made her jump from the suddenness of it. She was a very jumpy person, especially on the night shift when she knew the percentage of people who were drunk outweighed the sober. 

She nearly dropped the vinyl she was holding, instead settling for a small squeak as she carefully set them down and turned to face the offender. She was faced with a boy around her age, brown, curly hair atop his head and a nice looking suit. “Dancin’ lady? Di’ you hear me?” He asked, a wide smile on his lips as he stumbled over to the wall she assumes he spoke of. It looked like he was trying to open his eyes wide, all curious like, but they were tired-looking and slightly bloodshot.  “Dude, you’re hammered,” She said, following him as to make sure he didn’t break anything, either in the store or in himself. “Celebrating!” He exclaimed, doing a ridiculous little twirl with outstretched arms.  She flinched at his loud voice, eyes narrowed at him. He was still drunkenly wobbling around the store, picking things up in his ring-covered hands and setting them down again, only to grab something else.  “Please stop shouting. What are you celebrating?” She asked, taking a vinyl from his hands and putting it back in its place. “Sorry,” He whispered, “Jus’ di’ a show,” He told her, positively beaming. “A show?” She asked, humoring him. He only smiled, pointing up at their wall of displayed records, a mix of old and new artists. Her eyes followed his painted fingernail, which certainly surprised her, to see a pink vinyl of someone in a bath. “On the wall?” She asked, trying to match the bare back to the man standing beside her. He nodded a confirmation, a dopey smile on his lips.  Maybe his earlier drunken declaration meant something.  They did have the same hair, but brown hair that was wavy wasn’t necessarily rare. She searched her mind for any memories of people coming in to ask for the album. She’d never had to take it off the wall or search for it in the back, or else she would’ve known the name, but she could recall several girls who came in to purchase the pink record.  She never thought too much about it, too busy with her mind preoccupied with various tests she needed to take for school.  “Never hear’ o’ me?” He asked, looking slightly disappointed. She couldn’t help but feel guilty at the sad look in his eyes, but she slowly shook her head in honesty.  He frowned, pink lips settling into a childish pout that unfortunately pulled at her heart-strings.  She had a very boring life and meeting a cute, puppy-like popstar was not an occurrence that happened frequently, or ever.  “I’ll give it a listen though, alright?” She appeased, not being able to take the sadness in his emerald eyes. He perked up instantly, nodding like an enthusiastic puppy. “Right after I get you home,” She told him, addressing him like a small child.  He pouted, “Quite like you, wha’s your name?” He asked, slurring as he leaned up against the table of bins.  She narrowed her eyes as he did so, watching closely to see if they were going to topple over.  Famous or not, she would kill him.  “Carolina,” She said simply, her head upturned as she looked at the vinyl wall, eyes searching to find his name anywhere on the album. “I have a song called Carolina!” He nearly screamed, making her jump… again. He looked apologetic afterward, but it didn’t last long since he was quick to reach for his album off the wall. She watched his unstable form anxiously, waiting for the moment when his wobbly legs finally fail him.  He successfully grabbed it though, holding the record lovingly and passing it over to her like it was a newborn baby.  She took it from him, momentarily examining the front and then flipping it to see the tracklist.  Her name caught her eye immediately, three down the list.  Then, she looked at the other tracks, admittedly intrigued by many of the names. She examined the spine of the album, seeing his name was “Harry Styles.”  She’d certainly heard of him, whether it be from the news or just being a normal person who uses the internet.  She momentarily wondered how she hadn’t noticed him, was she really that tired she couldn’t tell an infamous pop-star from a random drunkard?  “Like it?” He asked, staring down at the record as his eyes flitted between her and the item she was flipping over in her hands. “Seems cool. I’ll give it a play,” She said, fully planning to.  “Promise?” He asked, looking at her hopefully. She nodded, walking the record over to the front desk for her to play later.  He followed her like a puppy, trailing her and observing her. She was wearing thick layers with tight jeans. She was small in stature and width, but the large layers gave a comical effect. She waddled slightly, either due to the weight of her clothes or maybe pain in her feet. She was wearing some well-loved vans, the same pair he wore when he was relaxing, which made him interested just that extra bit more. “Let’s get you home, alright?” She said, watching as he leaned his whole body against the counter, elbows propped up, and stared at her with his head in his hands. “Is there anyone I can call for you?” She asked him, glancing at the late time on the clock before looking over to glossy eyed Harry. “My mate, but I don’ wanna leave here,” He said casually, eyes looking around the store everywhere. She nearly groaned, he was very cute and endearing, with big eyes and unsteady feet, but she really needed to return the famous man before police broke down her shop.  “Gonna have to, we close soon,” She told him, trying to sound stern, but failing when she saw his pink lip was once again tucked out.  She had to look away, sighing as she wondered how she managed to get into this situation. She had her phone out, waiting for him to give her any sort of number so she could get him sorted in order for her to go home.  “Can I just stay with you forever?” He asked, sounding completely serious. She felt the urge to hit her head against the countertop; where the fuck was she? A YA novel?  “Afraid not, since you’re some sort of star,” She told him, scrolling on her phone as his eyes lit up. “You do know me, then?” He asked happily. She smirked, showing him her phone which had his google page up. He frowned slightly, but gave her a shrug to suggest it was fair game. “Can you go ahead and call someone? Your mate?” She asked, glancing at the clock yet again to see that the closing time was nearing and she hadn’t even finished the project she started. Dean was going to kill her if she didn’t get all of her work done, even if she did explain the situation with the under the influence star staring right at her.  “Guess,” He mumbled, sounding slightly offended as he pulled out his phone. He messily scrolled and typed, but Carolina didn’t pay much attention since she was worried about the stack of vinyl she had to clean up. “Look worried,” He muttered, phone to his ear. She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “How do you know?” She retorted, sounding more defensive than intended. He didn’t seem to mind, phone still ringing in his ear, “Eyebrows all furrowed. I do the same thing,” He explained. She looked at him a bit, then glanced at the records behind him before taking a deep, and attempt at calming, breath. “He’s no’ pickin’ up, we all decided to ge’ a bi’ hammered. Was supposed to stay with him, but I don’ much like followin’ orders. Reckon I could walk to my hotel from here-“ He said this all quickly, the words mixing in Carolina’s head but she was quick to shake her head no. “Just… Stay here. I’ll get you some water and you can… watch me sort the records or something,” She said, ignoring the way his eyes lit up and turning on her heels to get that water.  “Really?” He said, sounding excited as he followed her, stumbling, to the backroom where she retrieved some water for the both of them.  “Yeah, won’t be the most exciting thing, but letting you off on your own isn’t the best idea,” She told him, handing him the water as he took it gratefully. “Can handle myself,” He argued lightly. She let out a small giggle, seeing him stumble slightly as he made his way back to the front. “Sure you can,” She muttered, walking over to her project as he took a seat on the floor. “Comfy floor, you’ve got,” He complimented, head resting against the leg of the table. “High praise from a rock-star,” She responded, grabbing a stack of albums by the artists that started with the letter “b.”  “Wan’ any help? Real good at liftin’-“ His words were cut off as he attempted to stand, hitting his head on the bottom of the table. He winced, being forced to sit back down. She nearly rolled her eyes, for maybe the tenth time since he arrived, wondering why his friends allowed him to get so wasted.  Carolina had turned to look to make sure he was alright before stifling a giggle, “Think you’re better off sitting down. Don’t forget to drink your water,” She urged him, placing the records on the bin as she began to place them in their designated spots. “Angel, you are,” He said, the cap of his water bottle popping as he opened it. She sighed, staring at the mess before her and thinking of the mess of a person behind her, “I really am,”

“What do you mean you have him?” An accusatory voice asked her. She was slightly taken aback, having called the last person Harry had texted to try to find out where he was supposed to be. He didn’t have a lock on his phone, which seemed like an ill-advised move considering he was so famous. She had hoped they would be as cool as their friend was. That was an optimistic wish.   She had harmlessly told them she had Harry with her and wanted to know where his hotel was. They were less than pleased with this information. “What’d do you? Take him off the streets? Kidnap him?” He bit back, his words slurring to tell her he was drunk, but his tone cold to tell her he was pissed. She had practically frozen, fury settling within her as she looked at the sleeping boy on the floor of her shop. She really understood where the friend was coming from, considering Harry was famous and also very drunk, but she also really resented it. She wasn’t a fan, she didn’t know who the hell this guy was until a couple of hours ago. Carolina didn’t think she was some sort of martyr for protecting a nice, drunk person, but she also didn’t think it was something to scoff at. Not to mention, this friend, who seemed to keen on protecting Harry, was probably the same friend who let him wander off and get smashed on his own devices. So, with these thoughts in mind, her response may be slightly justified. “Actually, asshole, he wandered into my shop because he was alone and drunk. I gave him water and I’m just trying to get him home. I’ll ask him myself and I’ll let him know you’re the reason I had to wake him up. Fuck off!” She exploded, keeping her voice relatively low since Harry was really fast asleep. She didn’t give them time to respond, hanging up and placing the phone next to Harry. She sighed angrily, fuming. She was no angel, like Harry had proclaimed, but did taking someone in really warrant such viciousness? Sure, they were drunk too, but she had a rough day at a school and she was so looking forward to a bath and now she was more or less stuck with a man who she didn’t know and had a moral obligation to care for. So, in her mind, she would really love if she was given some slack. “Carrie?” She heard a soft British voice ask sleepily, breaking her from the angry monologue that was ripping through her mind right now. She almost didn’t answer to it, having never been referred to as a name other than Carolina. Sure, people had tried, but it never stuck. “Yes?” She responded, glancing over at him. He looked ridiculous. He had his cheek pressed to the concrete floor, his body curled up into a small ball, resembling a design of a seashell. His eyes were still closed, even when he spoke, and his lips barely even moved when he did so. “Can you take me home?” He mumbled, arms wrapped around himself. It really was cold in there. All visions of red anger disappeared as she looked at him with concern, wondering if he had done more than just alcohol. He seemed pretty wasted, or maybe he was just always as needy as a kindergartener. “Where’s home?” She asked him, hoping for an address to a hotel. “Holmes Chapel,” He mumbled. Carolina let out a deep sigh, “Which hotel are you staying at?” It was really no use. He was practically comatose, which was concerning, but she had no way to deal with it. He was breathing fine, so she took that as a good sign as she helped him to his feet. She was no nurse and she also wasn’t his HR secretary, but he didn’t seem like he was dying and she doubted he would appreciate a hospital headline the next day. So, she made a rash decision and a decision she didn’t necessarily prefer, but it was really the only thing offered to her right now. He was harmless, or at least, he looked harmless right now considering the way he was laying like a puppy who was trying to fit into a bed that was too small for him. “You’ll stay at mine, alright? We’ll just pray no one calls the police,” She said, staring at him as she wondered how the Hell she was going to get this grown man into her car, or out of the building for that matter. He hummed in response, sounding content as he continued to blissfully float within the land of not yet asleep and not yet awake. Her hand went to her head, slightly rubbing in between her eyebrows as she felt the onset of a stress-related headache. “I’m gonna need you to get up, alright?” She asked, trying to make her voice as gentle as possible, despite wanting to do nothing more than scream. Isn’t meeting a celebrity supposed to be fun? Because right now she felt like she was in Hell. She was being dramatic, for sure, but you have to believe her when she says that lifting a drunk man to his feet purely on your own really sucks ass, no matter how good his expensive cologne smells. Thankfully, he was still somewhat aware of the situation, since he wrapped his arms around her waist to keep himself upright. That allowed her a moment to think, still using at least half of her weight to hold up the man, as she ran through her checklist of what she was supposed to do today at the shop. She had cash checked the registers, locked the doors, cleaned up her mess, emptied the trash and now the last thing she had to do was to take care of a fucked up pop-star. “Nices’, you are,” He muttered, head falling to her neck as she struggled to lead him to the back exit where she had parked. “Wanna lay in the back?” She asked him, pushing open the door and plummeting them into the cold alley. He hummed an affirmative, which made her open the back for him first. He took no time in laying down, resembling a toddler. She rolled her eyes as she closed the door.   How the hell did she end up in this situation? Locking the car, she hurried back into the shop to grab her backpack, running back out to the car and locking the shop door behind her. She was a bit worried he would feel he was being kidnapped, or come to his senses right when he was laying in the back of her vehicle, and she can’t even tell you just how much she would not like that to happen. She climbed into the driver’s seat, turning on the heat as she wasted no time in getting on the road to her apartment. Her mind wracked if she had properly cleaned, really he wouldn’t know since he was wasted, but it did bother her slightly. She had a tendency to undress in random places, leaving her tops and pants in odd places like hanging off the backs of chairs or just scattered on the floor. She tried to set that subconscious thought aside, now worrying about the possibility of a SWAT team being sent to her just because she had the star in her hands. She continually sighed the way home, thinking about just how huge of an inconvenience this was. The only sounds in the car were her occasionally sighs and his little snores and sniffles which would only make her sigh more and make her wonder why his friends wouldn’t watch over him. It was a vicious cycle, really. It just had to be her. Of course, she hadn’t sent him away, had to swoon slightly at his cute little eyes and handsome outfit. She cursed hormones and her niceness. She pulled into the parking lot of her complex recklessly, parking quickly and trying to build up the courage and strength to lead this tall man up the stairs to her apartment. After a two minute pep talk about how she was strong and went to the gym occasionally, she managed to coax him out of the car and they slowly made their ascent into her apartment. She was hoping he’d remain quiet the remaining time they had to spend together, but she was terminally unlucky and he was drunk and very rambly. “You smell so nice,” He breathed out, clearly sniffing her neck. She tried to ignore the way his nose was nudging against her jaw, but she couldn’t help but wince lightly. This had to be the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her. “You’re so smashed,” She shook her head, inserting her key into the door. “How are you not sober yet? What did you even take?” She was mostly talking to herself now, guiding him into the house. She was definitely losing the small amount of sanity she had remaining, the thoughts of how she was going to take care of him settling deep within her mind. She could barely take care of herself when she was drunk, and that was just under the influence of alcohol and God knows what he got his rich little hands on. He was wobbly on his feet, holding onto her and other items to stay upright. “Something with a k? Ket-?” She gasped, eyes widening as she watched him fall onto the couch. She was going to have him take the bed, considering he was way richer than her and probably better than her considering that hierarchy. But, he seemed pleased throwing himself down on the leather, so she didn’t argue. She did argue with his admittance of drug use, though. “Ketamine? You took fucking ketamine? Who the hell gave you ketamine?” She repeated the name several times, in shock of whoever gave this puppy such a hard drug. Sure, he probably just acts like this when he’s… high, or whatever, but really! Ketamine? How much did he take? How did ketamine even work? She didn’t even think ketamine was something that was in circulation. She was learning so much tonight. “Please don’t be mad at me,” He pouted, eyes brimming with tears as he looked at her. Her eyes widened again, panic settling within her as she walked near him. “Oh, it’s... ok. You’re an adult,” She reasoned, trying to do anything in her power to prevent a waterworks show. “Mad a’ me, don’ like when you’re mad a’ me,” He mumbled, turning to face the back of the couch. She assumed he thought she was someone else, considering she had never been mad at him before and had also never met him before two hours ago. She watched him warily, eyes narrowed as she stared at his back. His breathing was steady, matching the pace it had at the record store. She had made a habit of checking his breathing since she hadn’t identified the substance he was on. She’d taken one, maybe two health classes about drugs, so she felt… still very uneasy about it. She was frozen in place at the fear of disturbing him or making him break down, it wasn’t until she heard his peaceful snores did she even consider to move. Tiptoeing, she quickly tried to make her way to her bedroom, where she immediately closed the door and slumped against it. She kicked off her shoes, shrugging off her coat as she let her head hit the door behind her. A rather loud snore rumbled through the house from her unexpected house guest. She closed her eyes in disbelief. It had to be her, didn’t it?

[writtenwordsoffic]

An Absentminded Encounter - Collab - Jughead x reader

Masterlist

@idle-lanes​@sgarrett49​@murderyoursoul​@moonlight53​@redhairedoddity​

So this is something new and different. Back in the day (yes I'm that old people) we called this a boomerang story. Where one writer writes one part and so on and so on. So I'm happy to have @lostnliterature​ write this with me as she is a good one (newer to the game on here) and hopefully you guys like it as well.

It is loosely based off of the lyrics of "Mine" by Taylor Swift.

@lostnliterature​ will be posting about this as well so give her some love as you guys have to me and it would be much appreciated. Thanks for reading as always!

The *ding* brought memories back to him in a flood. Nights where all he drank was coffee to get him through writing. Burgers that he enjoyed countless times, while enjoying the company of his friends. Time's where a passersby would make snide comments about his family. But Jughead Jones was used to the past. What he needed was a new adventure. And while entering that new diner, he found one.

    I had been going to Glo’s for years, basically ever since my parents would let me ride the Bainbridge Island-Seattle ferry on her own. It’s a quaint little diner and coffee house on Olive Way in the Capitol Hill district of Seattle. Now the diner is only a few blocks from my job, making it my ‘to go’ lunch break spot. I was quick to notice the new face in the diner I frequent, a slim looking boy with black curly hair hidden under a strange looking beanie. It’s not uncommon to see unfamiliar faces in the coffee house by any means, but there is something different about him. I can tell that he easily fits into the seattle lifestyle, but there is also something about him that tells me he isn’t a native. The way he would hesitate for a second, as if expecting a snide comment or judgement from everyone is what really stands out. As intriguing as the male was, I know better than to seek out answers, he is probably just a tourist anyways.

It’s been about two months since he showed up, around the time classes started at the college near by, and I haven’t said more than a couple words to him. Instead, I stay determined to continue to keep my nose in a book while also observing the other patrons and picking up on new information just by being in the same room.  

It had been proven that the raven haired boy is not a tourist by now, he has even picked up a job at Glo’s. Yet, I continue to keep my head down, cautious of drawing attention to myself as I read whatever book I am reading that day. The titles changing at least once a week as I finish the prior, and reading is my main distraction while on lunch break nearly everyday.

She always had her nose in a book. And the book always changed quite often. Jughead would watch her with more intent than what the grayed old man was ordering in front of him. He would see names change every few days - Kafka, Poe, Browning and then to Alcott. She seemed to have an interest in a lot of things - and yet she remained silent. Usually only having two specified orders that the Jones boy had memorized by now. (Stick two simple orders here so she has a taste for something). She always came in at the same time. Usually on the dot. And this was the day, Jughead thought. This was the day that he would get more than her order - because today he would finally ask her name and what she was all about.

It's Tuesday, usually a slow day at A Tale Twice Sold, and today has been no exception. A few stragglers have wandered in, two regulars and a couple new faces wander the shelves as I organize and put away books, going to the register when I see a customer heading up there. So, when lunch rolls around at 1, Helen, the owner of the shop and a very lovely older woman, tells me that I can take an extra hour to get some fresh air and have some fun. I laugh lightly at her comment, quickly thanking her for my now two hour lunch break with a hug. We both know that I am going to the same place I always do, just for an extra hour today. It's my definition of fun in its own way, reading in an atmosphere I enjoy, I mean. I finished The Hunchback of Notre Dame last night, and I need something new. It doesn't take me long to pull an old worn out copy of The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold, it's a book I've read before but it is also one I love, it's been a few years anyways, so why not. Grabbing my cross-body, army green, purse and throwing it over my shoulder, I wave to Helen like usual before starting my trek to the cafe. Helen has always been a mother figure for me, after she found out about my home life she stepped up voluntarily and took the roll with pride. I don't know what I would have done without her all these years.

Five minutes is what it takes me to get to Glo's and I sit at my usual two person table by the window, opening my book and jumping into the fictional world without any thought. The dark haired boy is around more often than not now, never without that strange beanie, and seems to have my order memorized, so I feel no guilt as I tune out the world and read the words I read years ago, a soft smile on my lips from the memories the book brings me.

She had become enchanting by him while he saw a curved upper mouth trickle her lips. He was enticed by them as well as her. She had a way of entering the room mostly unnoticed. He always did though. Something about the way she would walk with a nose in her book as if she had memorized her path weeks ago. As if her feet knew her direction but her mind knew that her table would always be open at this time.

“Would you just go talk to her Jones?”.

Jughead slapped back into reality as a palm gently hit his shoulder.

“I have talked to her”, he reluctantly gave a soft size as Joe the diner owner gave a slight frown in return.

“I mean more than her order boy…”, Joe moves his hair behind his ear with his palm - knowing what resided in Jughead's mind every time Y/N entered the diner. “Ya know, she reads books about as often as you do. You should tell her about yours”.

Jughead rolled his eyes. “Yes...I'm sure a novel about a serial killer is exactly up her alley…”

“Geez boy. Look at the books she's reading and tell me that again”.

This time Jughead didn't stare at the girl in the booth but rather at what was in her hands. A smirk that had matched Y/N’s lips had approached his own.

“Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained”. She blinked a few times while Jughead stood there nervously with her drink order.

“I guess it depends if you actually believe that”.

“Trust me - I do. You seem to be quite the bibliophile. Is that a newer accomplishment or something more natural?”.

     I heard a voice I have come to recognize even though I haven't heard more than a few words come from its owner, the new guy. I look up from the pages of my book with shock written across my face. The shock turns to confusion and I comment on his quote,

      “I guess it depends if you actually believe that” I state simply, the confusion morphing into curiosity when he replies back. For a moment I am silent, processing the information that he noticed me, notices me on a regular basis, at least enough to remember that I'm never without a book. I guess that shouldn't be a surprise considering he sees me enough to have memorized my order, a side order of biscuits and gravy- Glo’s has the best vegetarian gravy I've ever tried-, a seasonal fruit cup, and a large hot chocolate.

      “Books are portals to worlds outside your own, a was to leave when you have to stay where you are. I've always been a bibliophile” I answer hesitantly. “Did you look that quote up before you came over here, or have you read this?” I ask with genuine curiosity. To say I'm surprising myself by participating in this conversation is an understatement. I'm going against my 'keep quiet and keep your head down’ rule, but I'm not phased by it. I would be lying to say that the dark haired boy hasn't caught my attention over the time he's been here, but I told myself I wouldn't do anything that could start a friendship, or worse, an attraction. Love is silly, it never lasts and one or both parties always end up hurt, sometimes catching others in the crossfire. I don't understand why humans willingly put themselves through that, looking for something I don't believe even exists. True love, that is. “It's fairly obvious that you aren't from around here, so how is Seattle treating you?” I question as I mark my place in my book and close it. I don't put it down though, making sure I have an easy escape if anything happens. Reaching out for my coffee I take a few sips as I watch the male, analyzing and trying to gather as much information as I can on him.

Jughead was taken aback. “Obvious huh? Sorry we can't all be thrust-ed into the hipster life of the Pacific Northwest”. Y/N looked down a bit and Jughead had realized his impulse for sarcasm wasn't entirely noticed - so he tried to make a joke out of it. “However, I do believe I have rocked the flannel far longer than most people here…”.

She looked up and gave a smile and it had seemed his softer tone has connected to her.

“To answer by the way - I didn't have to look up that quote. I know it. Like most things that strike a chord through others writing. But I think that's the point when you're trying to be one yourself…”

She perked up a little to the comment. “You’re a writer?”

Jughead gave a smirk. “I'd like to point out I don't think I'm a good one. But yeah, I write. Ever since high school. Granted, sometimes incredible stories just need to be written when presented”.

“What was the story?”, she lightly played with her fingers while trying to remain eye contact.

“There was a lot to it actually...but it all started with a missing body found off of a River”.

I tilt my head to the side in an inquiring manner when the raven haired boy mentions the story that came around was centered around a murder - or suicide maybe? Forensic psychology and murder mysteries had always been a topic of extreme interest for me.

“A body found on the shore of a river? Was there any missing persons report? Was the person known around town? You're from a small town, right? That must have been hell”. I frown, curiosity and interest growing in me as I try to put possible factors together in my head. Maybe I should lay off of the murder books, I've read The Lovely Bones too many times to count and it must be having an affect on me.

He looks a little bit shocked by my words, possibly because most people wouldn't take such interest in murders and washed up dead bodies. Of course, that thought causes me to look down at my hands quickly with a pale pink staining my cheeks.

I fiddle with the small silver ring that is on the middle finger of my left hand, a small band with the Greek keystone's cut out. It was a nervous habit I've always had and I hate it. “For the record Seattle is grunge, not hipster. Grunge was born and bred here; the music, the style, the people, and the reputation. If you are looking for the Hipsters head across the Sound to Bainbridge, Gig Harbor, or down to Olympia.” I mutter as if it's a matter of fact, my tone having a soft and subtle edge of something close to offense. What has gotten into me? Why aren't I sticking to my usual routine? Keep your head down and don't let anyone close. It's a simple agreement, so why do I want to ask him if he wants to sit? I'm going insane.

She didn't seem to notice how a smile was stuck onto Jughead's face while she rambled. He enjoyed her correcting him as most people would never challenge him. “Apparently I'm mistaken. Although, now living here, I don't know if I count as hipster or one just soaking up the grunge atmosphere”. Without hesitation, or an invite, Jughead sat down as he hoped he was welcomed to. Now he was too enamored with the girl in front of him.

[monumentalnightmare]

Happy Hour At Shorty’s

I’ve been working on this today and it’s my first fanfiction I’ve written in a while so I don’t know if this is any good but I hope you enjoy this anyway.

Walking into Shorty’s during happy hour hadn’t been on Nicole’s agenda for today. She usually worked during it sine Nedley usually made his way over here, however, with him off due to sickness, Nicole decided to give herself an hour away from work instead. As per usual, the place was packed but it wasn’t as though she expected anything less at this time – it was lovely to see so many people in the same place for the same reason, even if it was just for alcohol.

Removing her Stratton hat, Nicole took a seat at the very end of the bar away from the rest of the customers waiting to be served. Truth be told, Nicole wasn’t fussed about being served at all – she just needed to get away from the desk at the station. Today had to be at the top of her list of being the worst day – well, one of the top anyway. Everything had been going wrong from paperwork being filed away incorrectly to the station getting calls for stupid things. Of course, all of this would happen when Nedley is sick. The amount of times she’d been called out to a house because of neighbors complaining about a family shouting and screaming at each other was now beyond her. That, however, wasn’t the main reason behind what had made the day as terrible as it had been. The icing on the cake, so to speak, happened when Nicole got a phone call from Chicago about two hours previous.

To anyone who knows her, it was never a secret that she didn’t talk to her parents – hell, their last conversation was around nine years ago when they kicked her out. There was a lot of shouting and screaming, mainly from her father, which made her wince even to this day whenever she thinks about that day. Nicole remembers being on the bed kissing a girl – her girlfriend – before her bedroom door opened with her parents stood there with a look of shock before anger took over. There were a lot of hurtful words spat out during that time which she still hates hearing to this day, but Nicole knows she has grown since then and even after everything she has been through, she still cannot forgive them. She doesn’t want to. Parents are supposed to love you no matter what and they both let her down. Nicole had done her best to try and hide her true self away from them since she expected something like that to happen due to them both being extremely Catholic but, of course, plans change. Luckily, she had an aunt that lived close by so that’s where she stayed for the last year of high school. Her aunt found out what happened and according to her, it was obvious that Nicole was gay from a young age. If she was being honest, Nicole was just glad to get away from her parents even though that did mean leaving her sister, Teegan, with them. Not something Nicole liked that was for sure.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

Looking up, Nicole is greeted by the beautiful smiling brunette who she had been crushing on for a few weeks. Waverly Earp. God damn, the last time she had been in this bar was when they first met and now, here she is again. Nicole couldn’t help but return the smile back before shaking her head looking down at the counter.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Miss Earp. Sorry – I mean, Waverly. I get used to using formalities whilst I’m working.” Nicole explained chuckling a little. Anyway, there are a lot of other people waiting to be served rather than myself. I’m literally only here to clear my head so just pretend I’m not here.”

There was a small pause before a small shot glass was placed in front of Nicole. The red head looked up and noticed Waverly holding a bottle before filling up the glass. Once filled, the brunette pushes it in front of her with no words being said. Nicole looks at the glass before raising her head with a questioning gaze.

“The perfect drink for wanting to forget and clear your head,” Waverly said motioning to the glass. “You have no idea how much my sister drinks that.”

Lifting the glass up to her nose, she sniffs it before wincing a little. Of course - it would be tequila. What other drink helps you forget things? She puts the glass down noticing Waverly is currently leaning against the counter with her arms folded on top of the bar.

“Want to know something interesting?” Waverly asked.

“I’d love to, Waves.”

The brunette blushes. “Waves – I like when you say that. Anyway, Tequila was actually first produced back in the sixteenth century near the city of Tequila, however, the city itself wasn’t established until 1666. Crazy, right?”

Nicole couldn’t believe how easily Waverly could help her feel better about what was currently going on in her own life. The fact that this woman knew so many things just made Nicole become intrigued even more – not even counting in her beauty and persona. She could literally listen to her talk about the history of things all day and not get bored. Not just history either – anything.

“Do you know that due to being a bartender?”

Waverly shakes her head standing up straight running her fingers through her hair. “Actually, no. I’m just a big fan of history which I’m sure you already know. I came across this information in a book about Mexico. I love to read so.”

“Yeah? I always find you find out something now when you read.” Nicole picks up the glass once again drinking the shot before slamming it down on the counter – she felt her face scrunching up in the process. “Damn, that’s some strong stuff.”

“The reason behind how it helps you forget,” Waverly responds with a giggle causing Nicole’s stomach to flutter instantly. “Now, are you going to tell me why you have come here today during Happy Hour? I’ve not known you very long, however, I do know you well enough to know you usually work at this time since it’s Nedley who comes here.”

Nicole raises her eyebrow in interest. “You know I work during happy hour?”

“Of course – you’re the only female officer in Purgatory,” Waverly says, refilling her glass as Nicole bites her lip moving a finger along the edge of her Stratton. “I also can’t help but notice you. We are around each other a lot since I help Wynonna with Black Badge stuff.”

“You do?” Nicole blushes when her fingers brush slightly with Waverly’s when the brunette hands her the re-filled shot glass. The red head holds the glass between her fingers. “I’m surprised and pretty sure you’re the first. Being the only female officer in this small town, I don’t exactly have any perks that come with it.”

“Oh, I can assure you, it does have its perks.”

Nicole picks up the glass drinking the liquid in one before placing it down and pushing it back in Waverly’s direction. Not one-person since she moved here has bothered to get to know her, aside from the woman in front of her. Waverly Earp is definitely something else. They have each other’s numbers and do text quite frequently which, frankly, doesn’t help her crush on her. She would usually come out and say it but she knows Waverly needs time. It’s not been long since she broke up with the boy-man Champ Hardy and she isn’t even sure if Waverly has even taken interest in other women in the past. It wasn’t something they had spoken about. Nicole slowly raised her head to look at the brunette before sighing.

“My parents died in a car accident today and I feel terrible because I don’t care.”

It was true – she got a phone call and all Nicole had felt was relief. Relief that she would no longer have to bump into them accidently or see them at family gatherings forcing her to engage in a two-minute catch up which neither of them cared for. Whilst it never happened when they were alive, it didn’t mean it wouldn’t have done if they still were. She feels awful about it and knowing she still has to go to their funeral fills her with dread. Nicole knows she will have to go back to Chicago at some point to check on Teegan, her aunt and to sort their house out, but she still had time. Nicole was just grateful Teegan had her aunt to look after her there – she wouldn’t know what would have happened otherwise.

“I’m sorry about your parents, Nicole,” Waverly asks, putting a hand on Nicole’s arm in comfort. “Why don’t you care, if you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

Nicole flashes the brunette a smile shaking her head. “Not at all. They found me kissing a girl I was dating at the time in my bedroom. Well, they are – were – extremely Catholic so, as you can imagine, it didn’t go down too well.”

“They kicked you out?” Waverly asks in conformation, causing Nicole to look at the brunette in surprise. “Sorry – it’s the first thing I thought of. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You are indeed, Miss Earp.”

Nicole locks her fingers together looking at Waverly with a grin on her face before looking down at her fingers in front of her. She feels Waverly’s hand rest on top of hers causing a smile to form.

“It’s not just that though. They disowned me on the spot and I went to live with my aunt for the last year of high school before joining the police academy. Not seen or heard from them since I was seventeen years old and now I guess I never will.”

“I’m honestly so sorry to hear that, Officer Haught.” Waverly moves her hands down to Nicole’s arms squeezing them in comfort. She appreciated the small joke of calling her Officer instead of her actual name to try and break the tension a little bit. “I know what it’s like to not have any parents. I know it’s different for you as yours chose to not know you pretty much after finding out your sexuality. I’m not sure if it will make you feel better or help you to know someone else knows how you feel, but I lost my daddy when I was six and my mother left me and my sisters when I was four. Being an Earp definitely is a curse at times, trust me.”

“You sound like me.” Nicole laughs looking into Waverly’s eyes enjoying the glint that she sees as they look at each other. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

Waverly smiles nodding her head. “I don’t mind. I’m just saying I understand what it’s like to have no parents around. I was pretty much raised by my aunt after the situation that happened with my own family, so you’re not alone. I guess that doesn’t mean a lot.”

Nicole shakes her head putting a hand over Waverly’s with a smile.

“It means everything to me. You are actually the only person who has even tried to get to know me and the fact you focused on me to find out what was going on with me does mean a lot.” Nicole explains standing up. “I just apologize that this version of me is different to the one you first met. I’m usually a lot more confident and sure of myself. I’m a private person, you know? I’m not used to opening up so this is kind of a big deal for me.”

“I’m glad you felt as though you could trust me enough to tell me about yourself and the past with your parents,” Waverly says cleaning Nicole’s glass before putting it away. “You don’t tell many people?”

Nicole shakes her head putting her hat back on. “Not really so you should feel special.”

“Oh I do, Officer. However, I have a question to ask you and I know it may totally be the wrong time to ask you, but you’ve had a terrible day and -”

“Waves, breathe.”

Waverly nods taking a breath looking at the police officer. “I finish at six so how about we go for coffee? We’ve still not gone for one and you did say some other time.”

“I did say that and lucky for you I finish at half five today so I accept your coffee request.” Nicole winks with a grin getting her wallet out. “So, thank you for listening to me and I honestly appreciate it. You’ve helped me forget about my terrible day and distracted me. How much do I owe you?”

“Come on Nicole – you don’t owe me anything. It’s on me.” Waverly insists holding a hand up. “I’m not accepting any payment today so you can forget it. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to open up even a little bit though.”

“So, see you at six?”

Waverly bites her lip with a smile nodding. “See you at six.”

With a final look at Waverly, Nicole makes her way out of the bar towards the station with a grin upon her face. The day may have been a terrible one but Waverly Earp definitely plans to give it a good ending.

[michaelina520imvu-blog]

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[jarienn972]

The Right Place - Chapter Three

This chapter isn’t quite as long as the last one, but there’s still quite a bit happening. This installment features the first of several flashbacks which will shift POV to different perspectives, each providing new insight to the mystery.

From the beginning on Tumblr:  Prologue/Chap One  Chap Two

Also on  AO3  and FF.net

Tuesday afternoon, Portland Harbor

The drive to the harbor took almost exactly fifteen minutes despite hitting nearly every traffic light red on their way. Deputy McCallen pulled the early 2000s era faded beige or maybe pale gold unmarked Ford Taurus into the parking lot of a dated but well maintained convenience store that had at one time also been a gas station. Still bearing the weathered awning that once covered the pumps, Scott's Mart had long ago stopped selling any fuel other than propane to focus on the store and its fledgling coffee shop. Only a few blocks away from the revitalized Old Port area where many of the former warehouses had been converted to nightclubs and restaurants, this side of the harbor near the ferry terminal had clung to its maritime roots, frequented more by commuters and commercial fishermen than tourists or trendy locals.

McCallen already knew bits and pieces of the area's history both from having grown up here in Portland as well as from information Sgt. Haviland had shared with him earlier that morning. This shop's current owner was Jean Scott, the blonde haired fifty-something woman from the security video who was the third generation of the Scotts to operate the store, but first to be forced to make drastic changes to how her business was run so she could adapt to the new harbor front development. Her business survived mostly from her regular customers – dock workers, fishermen and the daily commuters arriving and departing from the busy ferries serving the outer islands. Her enviable location only a block from the terminal was predominately what had kept her business afloat.

During the drive over, McCallen had attempted to keep his questions related to the investigation, not wanting to offend Emma with unprofessional inquiries that would make him appear inexperienced, but he found that a few nagging queries just wouldn't remain silent – one of which made its way to his lips as he turned off the engine of the Taurus.

"Okay, I have to know something," he began, shifting to face his passenger. "What's the significance of the jewelry?"

"The jewelry? What jewelry?" Emma wondered, confused at the sudden seemingly irrelevant question.

"Your husband's jewelry – those ornate rings, the skull and crossbones necklace – like something right out of a pirate movie. Does he have some sort of pirate fetish or something?" His inquiry caught her so unprepared that she nearly choked while trying to suppress a giggle.

"Well, that's another really long story…," she chuckled. "I wouldn't even know where to begin. Suffice it to say he really loves the sea."

"So – no fingerprints in the system, no driver's license, a potentially disturbing fascination with pirates… I've got a feeling there are a whole lot of 'long stories' involved here…"

"You have absolutely no idea," Emma laughed as she pushed open the passenger side door and climbed out of the car while McCallen shook his head in mock frustration.

"Think maybe you'll fill me in on some of those long stories as this case goes on?" he asked as he exited the car. "Like what possessed you into making the decision to come over here with me rather than staying with your husband at the hospital?"

"That's an easy one to answer. I know for a fact that Killian would rather have me out here trying to track down the people who hurt him instead of sitting uselessly by his bedside feeling sorry for him. He'd never allow that. As for the rest, you probably wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" he mumbled as they strolled toward the shop's front door which bore a very large "CLOSED" sign even though they could clearly see the proprietor inside as she attempted to replace a broken shelf on a display case. McCallen rapped loudly on the glass which garnered an angry shout from inside:

"We're closed! Just like the sign says."

"Ms. Scott? I'm Deputy McCallen with the Cumberland County Sheriff's Department. We spoke briefly earlier and I'm here to ask you a few more questions if you don't mind, remember?"

"I've already talked to Portland PD about the robbery," the woman shouted back. "I don't know what else I could possibly tell you that I didn't already tell them."

"Ms. Scott," the deputy persisted. "I'm not here to ask you questions about the robbery per se. I'm investigating a different case – what might be an attempted homicide."

"Attempted homicide?" the woman's tone softened becoming more quizzical as she placed the shelf bracket onto the tile floor, then stood up and walked over to the door. "What attempted homicide and what the hell does it have to do with me?" she asked the deputy through the door, not yet convinced to open it for the young man and his blonde companion with the messy ponytail and a no-nonsense scowl etched onto her face.

"The man the robbers took hostage two days ago – he turned up half dead on Little Diamond Island later that day…" McCallen informed her.

"Wait – the guy in the leather jacket?" Jean Scott asked, clearly surprised as she immediately unlocked the door and pushed it open. "The good looking British guy who was here in my shop was the unidentified person they were talking about on the news last night?"

"We're pretty sure he was," the deputy replied as the shopkeeper stepped aside, now eagerly inviting both of her guests inside. "We're hoping you can help us figure out how he got out there."

"Yeah, sure…," Jean said, her demeanor completely changed now as she closed the door behind them and relocked it. "I don't know how much I can help you, but I'll tell you this much, the guy probably saved my life. Guess I owe him a few minutes of my time to try and answer your questions."

"We really appreciate it, Ms. Scott," Emma spoke up. "My name is Emma Jones, Sheriff of the town of Storybrooke," she decided to use the professional title to introduce herself to establish her relevance in the investigation. "The man in the leather jacket who was here on Sunday was my husband, Killian, who also serves as Deputy Sheriff in our department."

"Killian, huh? He never mentioned what his name was, but he kept positioning himself between the robbers and me. He wouldn't ever let them get too close," Jean stated. "Him being a deputy makes sense now. He just stayed calm and kept talking to them – kind of like he'd done it before, you know?"

"What can you tell us about that morning leading up to the robbery and hostage situation?" McCallen asked as he withdrew his notepad and pen.

"I really already went over this with the cops," the shopkeeper groaned, turning her back to them as she took a step toward her coffee shop counter in the rear of the store. "Do you really want the full replay?"

"It would be a huge help to us," Emma pleaded as Jean continued over to the counter then reached across it to press a button on her industrial sized coffee maker, positioning a large chrome carafe onto the base before plopping herself onto one of three barstools.

"Well, then, coffee's brewing…," Jean sighed. "You two aren't in a hurry, are you?"

Two days earlier

Sunday had started out as a typical weekend morning – the usuals dropping by for a cup and a chat before heading out to wherever they spent their day whether that might be work or play. It had been, for the most part, a lovely day – bright and sunny although still a tad chilly for April, but it had been exceptionally windy. She'd glanced out the front windows on a few occasions to spy her hand-lettered sign swaying on its post and watched the steel awning above the long absent gas and go area occasionally heave with a strong gust. She made a mental note to have the boys next door check it out once the wind died down, thankful that at least these weren't gale force winds or she likely would have lost a section by now.

Mid-morning was always the lull of the day - especially on the weekends. Ferry traffic slowed and customers were infrequent although usually things picked up as it got closer to lunch time when a few regular patrons would drop in for a sandwich from her cooler or just another steaming hot cup of joe to thaw their insides. Some days, it seemed as though the handful of repeat customers she had was all that was keeping her going, but Jean Scott wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet. This was more than just a business to her – it was her family's pride and joy. The shop had stood here on the harbor, a block from the Portland ferry terminal, for nearly fifty years and Jean was now the third generation of her family to run it, following in her father and grandfather's footsteps. So much had changed down here on the waterfront in all of those years, but she wasn't ready to part with the shop just yet, never mind the constant badgering she got from developers who wanted her to sell to them. It just wasn't time for that yet.

A little after 10:30am, she'd started cleaning out one of her two largest coffee carafes in preparation for the lunch rush when she'd heard the little electronic buzzer sound that informed her a customer had entered the shop, a feature she'd recently installed for times like these when her head was buried under the counter. Alerted that she was no longer alone in the shop, she perked her head up to see if it was one of her usuals, but instead of a regular customer, she laid eyes on a man she'd never seen before. There wasn't a single thing about this man's appearance that would have led her to believe he was from this area looking as out of place on this harbor as anyone could imagine. He stood not quite six feet tall wearing a black leather motorcycle style jacket adorned with silver zippers and buckles over a neatly pressed indigo blue Oxford shirt and what appeared to be a black leather vest.

But it wasn't just his clothing that drew her attention, it was the total image he presented. He wore his chestnut brown hair short and sported several days growth of neatly trimmed stubble along his jawline and upper lip that lent to his roguish charm. She wasn't really certain how to describe his demeanor but it essentially came down to a mix of biker tough meets Harvard scholar – his air of confidence oddly captivating as he stood next to the checkout counter.

"Morning!" she called out, scurrying from behind the coffee shop counter to greet her new customer. "Welcome to Scott's Mart. What can I do for you this morning?"

"I was told by a neighboring establishment that I could get a decent warm beverage here while I await the next ferry over to Peaks Island," the man replied in a strongly accented voice she suspected was British. She could see that his face and ears were flush from the cold and wind, but he didn't seem the type to complain about a chill in the air.

"You sure can get a warm beverage here," Jean smiled. "What's your preference – coffee or tea?"

"Preference would be rum but this hardly looks like a tavern so I'll settle for whatever you've got handy."

"Well then, have a seat. I'll have a fresh pot brewed in no time," she snickered.

"Much appreciated," he responded, flashing a huge smile that would have made her weak in the knees were she twenty years younger. "Don't suppose you would know what time the next ferry is scheduled to depart, would you?" he asked, placing a paper sack that she recognized as coming from the neighboring Mac's Maritime Supply store onto the counter before taking a seat on the furthest of the three barstools – the one closest to her six foot by three foot aquarium – by far her favorite feature of the entire shop. She loved to watch her vibrantly hued tropical fish swimming around the tank as they could always calm her on a stressful day.

"There's a schedule posted on the wall to your right," she informed him, "but most of these ferries have been on the same schedule since I was a kid so I can tell you that the next ferry over to Peaks leaves at 11:25am." She circled around to the rear of the counter and retrieved an alabaster ceramic mug from the shelf. "How do you like your coffee, sir?"

"As strong as you can get it and straight black," the stranger replied with a wide grin and for the first time since he'd walked into her shop, Jean realized he had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Damn! Where had this guy come from?

"Haven't seen you around here before…," she started making a little small talk and flirting unmercifully as she filled the mug nearly to the brim with the steaming dark liquid and expertly slid it across the countertop to her customer.

"Thank you," he replied, gracing her with yet another amazing smile. Was this her lucky day or what? "And, no – I'm not from your city. I sailed into the vicinity this morning only to have the bowline on my mainsail snap. They didn't have the proper tensile strength line at the shop I visited out on the island so the gentleman there recommended an establishment here on the mainland."

"Not sure I'd call Mac's Supply shop an 'establishment', but he's got the best inventory in the area," she chuckled.

"Indeed. Found a suitable implement to at least get me back home – although it'll probably take me a fair portion of the afternoon to get it tied off properly again."

"So you're a sailor?" she questioned, enthralled by this fascinating new customer. "You don't look like any sailor I've seen around these parts…"

"Ah… looks can be deceiving, milady," he replied with a devilish smirk. God, this guy oozed charm, she thought… And that accent… She could listen to him talk all day, but she had to keep reminding herself she needed to get back to work before the lunch rush. And besides – a guy this good looking, he had to be taken.

"Well, Sailor, let me know when you need a warm up. I've got to get the rest of my machines cleaned out and ready to brew before the lunch crowd arrives." The man nodded in agreement as he took a tentative sip of his coffee to test its temperature before placing the mug back into the counter and reaching into a pocket to retrieve his cell phone. Jean watched him slowly typing out what must have been a text message as she poked her head out of the alcove that served as the coffee shop's makeshift kitchen. "Might have to duck outside to get that to send," she advised. "Signal tends to be pretty weak in here."

"Thank you," he responded as he stood up, phone in hand. "Appreciate the advice." Leaving his parcel and the coffee mug on the counter while the beverage cooled, the dark haired stranger took a few steps toward the store's entrance intending to make a quick jaunt outside to send his message. He never quite made it past the racks of candy, snacks and chewing gum as he found his exit blocked by two individuals wearing heavy down jackets and ski masks pulled over their faces barreling their way through the door. It wasn't all that unusual for Jean's customers to enter the shop with their faces protected from the elements, especially on such a breezy, cold day with the sea spray being whipped up by the wind, but courtesy dictated taking off said coverings once inside. Something about their body language was off and Jean Scott's sailor-in-black-leather customer instantly sensed something wasn't right.

Because these two weren't customers at all.

Present Day

"Don't get me wrong," Jean Scott continued with her story, "this wasn't my first time around. I've had plenty of experience dealing with shoplifters and robberies over the years, but something about this time was different…"

"In what way?" Emma wondered, finding herself both curious about the crime and amused at Ms. Scott's description and portrayal of Killian.

"Most of the crooks we've dealt with around here have been kids. They burst in, demand money and take off or they sneak in, shove things into their pockets while trying to keep me distracted. Either way, these guys – they weren't in a hurry. They came in, locked the door and demanded our cell phones – all before asking for any money from the register or my safe. It was odd and I think your husband picked up on something strange right away…"

"You're right," Emma agreed, "what you're describing doesn't sound like a run of the mill robbery."

Deputy McCallen had been busy scribbling away in his notepad, absorbing and recording all of the highlights as Ms. Scott relayed them and despite his limited investigative experience, he was also decidedly skeptical about the criminals' intent. Even without knowing that Jean Scott's security camera was a product of the late 1980s, their unusual actions didn't make a lot of sense. Why would they be taking their time? Delaying and hesitating would increase the probability of getting caught – exactly the opposite outcome that most criminals would be looking for. So why did they lock the door and take their time?

"Did they keep your phones so you couldn't reach out for help?" McCallen asked.

"Sort of," Jean replied, motioning toward her aquarium. "They dumped both of our phones in there. I pulled them out before the Portland cops got here, but they were both ruined. They'll probably end up making my fish sick too." It was becoming clear that this shopkeeper was more than a little bit pissed off at the whole situation and it certainly didn't seem like it was just about the money. She was taking this personally.

"I wonder if Killian tried to send me a message to let me know where he was," Emma found herself wondering. "If he'd been able to get that message through, things might have gone a little differently and you might not have been investigating a John Doe for two days. At least now I have the explanation as to why his phone kept registering as Out of Range or Out of Service Area when I tried to ping it."

"I've gotta agree – you getting that message would have helped us both out – both my case and your nerves," McCallen stated with an awkward half smile, immediately regretting his choice of words as he didn't want to get too personal again. "Anyway, Ms. Scott, what did they do after they threw your phones into the fish tank?"

"One of them was waving a gun around, barking orders at the other," Jean recalled. "The second guy went after the register and then the bossy one came toward me demanding the money in the safe. He got a little pushy with me so the guy in leather – your husband – came to my defense. He stepped between that bully and me – told the jerk to keep his hands off me and got himself a hell of a shiner in the process."

"That explains where his black eye came from," Emma sighed, "but we're still missing a huge gap of time between this shop and when he was rescued from the island…"

"Me. Scott," McCallen interrupted, remembering a detail from the security video he'd watched that needed clarification. "On your security camera footage that Portland PD shared with me, you can see one of the robbers removing something from Mr. Jones' jacket pocket. Do you recall what that item was?"

"Oh, that – it was a gold coin," Jean stated, then continued with an explanation of what had led up to the image the deputy was referencing. "We had just heard the ferry horn sound indicating it was arriving at the dock so I warned the crooks that there would soon be more customers arriving who would be really curious about why my door is locked in the middle of the day. They tried to drag me with them but your husband wouldn't let them. He told them about the gold coin in his pocket and even offered them more if they let me go. He told them he had more coins out on his boat and I guess they believed him because they changed their minds and took him with them when they left instead. Figured his coins might be worth more than the hundred bucks or so that I had here in the store I suppose."

"So Mr. Jones might have been leading them out to his own boat when they took him hostage?" McCallen speculated aloud. Emma cringed every time they referred to the Jolly Roger as a "boat" hearing Killian's voice echoing in her ear reminding her that she was a ship, not a boat. "You said he'd been waiting for a ferry?" the deputy's question continued.

"Yeah – heading out to Peaks," Jean stated.

"So it's likely that he left his boat docked out there somewhere?" McCallen theorized.

"He mentioned something about a broken bowline and came in carrying a bag of rope from Mac's down the block. I think it's still around here somewhere…," Jean tried to visually scan the haphazard mess that was her shop right now, surveying the damage done by both the robbers and the police during their investigation. It was pure chaos right now, but she spotted the brown paper bag lying on the floor under the counter. "Oh - over there. That's it on the floor behind the barstools." She pointed to the bag with its top rolled down into a carrying handle.

"A snapped bowline could have taken his mainsail out of commission making it difficult for him to get back home," Emma lamented as McCallen retrieved the bag of rope from the floor. "Well, now we know what brought him to Portland at least. One more piece of the puzzle."

"If he did leave his boat docked out near Peaks somewhere, they likely would have had to pass by Little Diamond on the way out across the bay," the deputy suggested. "They had to have had their own boat because they would have drawn a lot of attention holding a man at gunpoint on the ferry…"

"And they definitely had a gun shoved into his back when they stormed outta here," Jean reminded them of the scene that McCallen had watched at the end of the video. "What happened after they left here? What exactly did they do to him if you don't mind me asking?"

"We still don't know all of the details, but at some point after they left your store, someone stabbed Mr. Jones in the back and likely tossed him into the bay to drown," McCallen replied matter-of-factly. "We've no idea how he got to the beach, but we're pretty certain he wouldn't have survived much longer if a couple of fishermen hadn't come along and spotted him."

"Damn…," the store owner responded with a deep sigh. "Good looking stranger probably saved my life…" she repeated her earlier statement then turned toward Emma with a sincere, empathetic expression. "Please thank your husband for me. I owe him a hell of a lot more than another cup of coffee."

"I'll be happy to deliver that message as soon as he wakes up," Emma replied with a somewhat tepid, half-hearted smile. She didn't want to appear rude, but the reality of the situation had just come flooding back with McCallen's straightforward description of what might have happened to Killian. He was still lying unconscious in a hospital bed – still dependent on machines to breathe for him, but he had voluntarily put himself into a dangerous position to aid a woman he'd just met – and Emma couldn't have been prouder. Yet at the same time, that chivalrous act had left him stranded unknown and alone in that same hospital bed for two full days and she just couldn't shake the overwhelming sadness and trace of rage that she was experiencing. She struggled to maintain her professionalism, hoping Ms. Scott and Deputy McCallen weren't witnessing traces of her internal battle with her emotions. There would be a time for those to surface – when they found the men who'd wounded her husband. "We definitely appreciate all of your help, Me. Scott. Thank you for taking time to talk to us."

"My pleasure," Jean replied. "And I'm sorry about my attitude before. It's been a rough couple of days – obviously not as rough as what your husband's been through, but I'm still trying to put everything back together and get back to work. Anyway, Sheriff, I don't know where you found that man, but you've got one hell of a catch there. Hang on to that one!"

"I plan to," Emma smiled, this time genuinely as she and McCallen each shook hands with the shopkeeper, saying their thanks before making their egress to the parking lot. They'd been here just under an hour – a tad longer than she'd expected and her heart was anxious to get back to Killian's side. They were now armed with some new information though and while a huge chunk of the puzzle remained missing, pieces were falling into place. Killian had baited his captors with a doubloon and undoubtedly did have more of them stashed out on the Jolly Roger, but was he really intending to lead them out to his ship? Had he offered himself as a hostage strictly to protect the woman? Was he simply leading them away from the store before making an escape attempt? Maybe he'd foolishly thought he could take on both of his abductors – certainly not out of character for him to challenge a foe who clearly held the upper hand, or in this case, two of them. She had to believe that he'd let himself be taken as their captive in an attempt to reach a position where he would have a tactical advantage, but his current predicament meant he probably never reached that point. Somewhere along the way, whatever plan his brain had conjured had gone awry – but where? Why? How?

Those questions remained unanswered and only Killian himself would likely be able to answer them.

Author’s note:  As I work for a cruise line, I'm familiar with a lot of nautical terms but since our company's fleet of ships don't have sails, I had to do a little research into something that would hinder a ship but be a repair that Killian could complete by himself. I decided on the bowline since it would be used to help keep the sail taut in the wind.

[nostalgichistorian]

Well I'm back in Australia now, I'm not actually home yet, just sitting in a hotel room in sydney with kinda shitty internet, but I guess now is as good a time as any to just relax and write a bit about my trip.

So I'd kinda been planning this trip since my grandfather died, even though that was nearly a year ago. I wasn't really going up there for tourism, but I guess I saw a couple of things?

It was my first time doing.. well, a lot of things, but it was also my first time flying (or leaving my state at all for that matter). I managed to pack light enough that I only had onboard luggage, but next time (and there will be a next time) I'll probably actually check most of my luggage and deal with that separately.

The security process was a lot more routine and impersonal than I thought it'd be. I guess when you're sorting through hundreds of people every hour you generally don't have time to give each person an intimate cavity search.

I flew with Virgin Australia for the first trip (and will later today for my last trip) and Delta the rest of the way. It was the kind of thing where it's not too bad as long as you don't think too hard about the fact that you're a 10 km in the air and if the plane decides it doesn't want to run anymore you're probably twenty kinds of fucked. Really it's just kind of like being on any form of public transport like a bus or a train or whatever, with its own handful of perks and inconveniences.

All my trips have been economy flights, so I imagine things are fancier if you're willing to fork out a few thousand dollars for the Deluxe Ultra Plus Skyzone Comfort One Package™ or whatever the fuck. The food ranges from hilariously mundane (One Cookie) to kind of decent (three TV Dinner level "meals" and as much orange juice as you want). The toilets are absolutely tiny and the seats aren't much better but some flights give you access to semi-recent movies on a touchscreen embedded in the seat in front of you.

The first flight to Sydney was fairly unexciting except for the fact that it was my first one. I learned that I don't get airsick at all which is great, and also kind of what I expected given that it's mainly rapid frequent changes in acceleration that screw with me, and planes are giant behemoths that couldn't do the shit required to make me sick even if they wanted to.

It ended on a fun note when a passenger passed out and collapsed into my lap. Some woman, still not sure if she was okay. Hope she was.

My first hotel was the one in Sydney which I'm currently staying at for the second time. Feels like a high class place. Honestly all I really needed was a shower, toilet, and bed, of which I got all three, so that was nice. The bed was miserably hot though, and I hadn't quite figured out the whole sleep-under-the-sheet thing. Still, it served its purpose.

The next day involved flying over the pacific, which was a little more exciting and also a little more inconvenient. 14 hours meant my first experience taking a crap on a public toilet, paired with my first experience using an airline toilet, so that was fun (it wasn't that fun). The movies were okay but I spent a lot of time just watching the flight tracker as my plane slowly moved over the pacific. I remember being excited when we got into LA because there were mountains poking through the clouds which was something I'd never seen before. I was also excited because I knew that even though I'd been up for a while at that point, I was going to see my friends later that day.

That, unfortunately, did not come to pass.

My plane had left an hour late, but that was fine because I had accounted for that. Getting through customs was relatively painless (photo fingerprints are you carrying any bananas thank you have a nice day next please) but still took around 2 hours. I had enough time still thanks to layovers but this was a foreign airport, so I had my concerns.

My first trouble was actually figuring out where the fuck my plane was. Of all the airports I've been to, I hate LAX the most simply because it's huge. All the terminals are spread out and I couldn't find any straightforward maps. I came in to security from the wrong direction which I interpreted as "you need a new boarding pass" because after 20 hours of being awake your comprehension gets a bit fuzzy. I figured out how to get my ticket from one of those machines which generally just involves sticking your card in the thing and checking a box that says "no I'm not carrying anything volatile".

So I went and found my way to security, which was a long line, and I was starting to run out of time, but I was confident I had a reasonably comfortable period. I had called my friends and told them that things were a bit awkward but otherwise fine. My new US sim card was also functioning fine which meant I had a working phone, which is obviously kinda useful.

I made my way through security which took a little longer because I had to take my laptop out of my bag (You had to do this in Australia but they didn't have any signs saying you had to in America so I didn't know, but it only delayed me a couple of minutes, but they were minutes I had, so). I packed up my things and headed out of security into the actual terminal.

It was at this point that I realized I had left my credit card in the automatic check-in machine.

I was a little fucking stressed at this point. I had to go back for it, obviously - you can't just leave a credit card behind. But I also had only a little time. I had to move, and I had to move fast. I couldn't find it. I couldn't even remember exactly which machine it was. I asked a couple of lost-and-found places, nobody had turned up anything.

By some fucking miracle, I eventually stumbled across it, right where I left it. I don't think I've been so happy to have found something like that ever in my life. But I was still running low on time.

I had to go back through security. It took time. I had to get to the gate. It took time.

I got there a few minutes too late. I'd missed my flight.

Missing your flight isn't too bad, especially if you've got access to funds (which I did).

The main problem was I was physically exhausted, I'd been up for nearly 24 hours, and I was in a foreign country in a confusing airport in an area I didn't know, and the replacement ticket the airline gave me A) Wasn't for ten hours, B) Came with the caveat of "wait for your name to be called" (which kind of implied I might not get a seat) and C) I'd have to do a similar kind of digging around in Detroit to get to my final destination. Also, although I don't get airsick, I also can't sleep on planes. So it'd mean I wouldn't get any rest until reaching my final destination.

I was in way over my head and I fucking knew it. So I decided, fuck it, I'll get a hotel, sleep, and deal with this on a level head. It'd cost me time and money but I needed the rest more than either of those things.

My friends did their best to help with recommendations for hotels and such. Transport was a big issue, because the airport was big enough I couldn't really just straight-up walk to the hotel I wanted. I was completely unfamiliar with shuttle busses. Learning the ins and outs of public transportation in a foreign country is not a fun prospect when you're emotionally mentally and physically exhausted and also you have some minor issues with social anxiety.

So I booked a room at a hotel, and was trying to figure out how to get there. Getting the shuttle bus to actually come down required you actually calling the hotel, which I should have done, but wasn't in the right mind to do. So I did what most Australians in my situation might have done: I got in a Taxi.

This was not Australia.

This was Los Angeles.

Taxi drivers here are a little different.

The first trick was that I wanted to go to hotel_name, but there were two hotel_names in LA near the airport. Naturally this gentlement would deduce to take me to the more prominent of the twopffftthahaha no he spoke poor english drove like a maniac and gouged me for the privilage. The place I landed was closer to a motel than a hotel. It was also not the one where I had a reservation. Whatever. I didn't care. I was tired. I was spent. I was slightly nauseous from the drive. I went up to the counter and pretty much just threw money at them. I needed a bed, a shower, and a toilet.

I got into my room. It was kind of a shitty room compared to the one I'd been in. Whatever. I couldn't figure out how to get the shower working. Whatever. I'll sit in the tub with a pool of warm water and splash myself. It's better than nothing. Dry off. Lie down. I need sleep.

I'm still nauseous. Laying on the bed makes me more nauseous. Laying on the floor is uncomfortable, but better. Unfortunately the floor is damp. I spend time talking to my partner on skype, in the bathroom, periodically dry retching. I am stressed, sick, exhausted. In retrospect I think the sickness was a combination of stress and a shitty driver. I take all my important belongings into the bathroom. I try to lie down on the bathroom floor with the most tentative of coverings. Between the barely managable sleeping surface, the exhaustion, and the comfort of my partner's voice, I manage to lose consciousness for a couple of hours. They were not the best hours of sleep I had gotten on my trip. But they were the most important.

A couple of hours later I woke up. My partner had gone offline (but had apparently stayed up talking while I had slept, bless them) and I needed more sleep at any rate. I made my way to the bed where I slept until the foreign housekeeper woke me up around 8 hours later in spite of me having a Do-Not-Disturb sign on the door (when he knocked it woke me up but I figured it must have been another room because hey I had a sign on the door and then he came in anyway which woke me up proper).

At this point I was sort of rested enough to try and figure out what I was going to do. My flight (the rescheduled one) was still scheduled but I decided against it. I called up my father and gave him a heavily censored record of the above events (hey dad I know you were nervous about this trip well I was sick and felt like I was gonna die alone and there was nothing you could have done about it have fun waiting for me to get home for two weeks) and talked to my friends some.

I realized I still technically had a reservation at the other hotel, so I decided to actually make my way over there. I decided I was ready to interact with shuttles. The driver was a black woman which I only mention because A) it was the first black person I'd ever directly interacted with and B) it was an incredibly positive experience (which honestly made me wonder why so many people in america apparently hate them because as far as I could tell they're just ordinary human beings). It was also the point where I realized that tipping generously tends to make people friendly. I don't know why rich people don't tip more. I guess they like being hated or something.

She gave me generally good advice (a lot of which was practical but was still good to hear) and was friendly and personable. It was a pleasant ride and was honestly the only part of staying at that hotel that I'm glad for.

The hotel I arrived at was considerably nicer. It had fences and a nicer pool area and a garden and fountains and my room was a fancy big-ass room with a bed as sort of the centerpiece which lead my friend to proclaim that the room was "made for fucking". She was probably right.

I booked a new flight to my destination and shrugged off the lost day and a half. I also discovered a Dennys really close to the hotel (honestly at this point you can probably deduce which hotel I stayed at by clues alone). This was my first experience with American Food which consisted of lemonade that actually tasted like lemons and a burger so big they have to fucking spear the thing to a plate. It was the best thing I'd eaten in a long time and I think Dennys will always have a place in my heart.

I got a few more hours sleep in my fancier hotel and then headed for the airport. This time I had more time and more understanding and more patience, and the experience was relatively smooth. There were two flights I had to go to, one to Detroit and then another to an out-of-the-way city in upstate NY. There was a four hour layover. My flight was delayed by about two. This is why I choose to have long layovers, guys.

Detroit is probably the nicest airport I've been in. It's big, but it's logically laid out. Consolidated stores, lots of big and easy to read signs. My layover there was brief but pleasant. The plane I was in was quite small (four seats per row, two each side) but that trip was honestly the most straightforward one I'd been on. By the time I arrived it was early morning and I'd been up for another 24ish hours.

My partner greeted me with a tackle and my friends with hugs. It was generally a nice experience but admittedly twenty kinds of sensory overload; My partner wanted a ton of physical contact which I was 100% okay with in most situations but which was a little overwhelming combined with everything else and the fact that I had received little to no human physical contact in the preceeding two decades (please don't feel bad I love you I was just halfway between wanting contact and not). One of my friends I had very little knowledge of their appearance which was its own thing, and the third was quite comfortable but I also had the longest history with and was trying really hard not to stare at.

Being an introvert at the center of attention and exposed to a thousand sensory overloads after being awake for 24 hours was a little much, so I excused myself and took a shower and had a much needed rest alone in my room. After about 8 hours, I woke up in the early evening and we went out to another Dennys and chatted some more. When we went back to the hotel, my partner joined me.

It was a unique and pleasant experience with a lot of talking and a bit of laughter, and in that situation, I don't think there's anybody I would have rather shared it with. The details are personal and honestly largely irrelevant. I love you Pumpkin. <3

The next couple of weeks are a general haze of good times and a handful of high emotions. Seeing their house was nice. Their cat liked me (or at the very least was significantly indifferent to my presence to permit being petted). The food in the area was nice. The area itself was probably the Whitest place I've seen, and I ain't talking about snow because it's fucking summer. It was actually warmer than I would have liked, even being Austrlian. Pretty humid. Next time I go up there it'll be in the winter.

Odd things about America from an Australian perspective: The toilets are weird. The pool of water is much bigger and the toilet sort of drains the water and then refills the bowl rather than actively flushing it through. Wall sockets don't have switches. Light switches are upside down - you tend to flick them up to turn them on, not down. Pennies are hell. If you're Australian, imagine five cent pieces somehow became even more useless and prevalant. Paper money smells weird. Having one dollar bills instead of coins is a nightmare. The most common coin is the quarter.

Also, America is so unbelievably far up its own ass I'm surprised they don't shit eagle feathers. Flags are everywhere, they're sort of like the country's default decoration. They're on flagpoles and walls and sprouting from flowerpots like some kind of fucking weed. Jokes were made. A mother flag, cautiously watching its young from a distance. Fresh sprouting flags ripe for picking. WHAT COUNTRY ARE WE IN oh okay it's America OH FUCK I'VE FORGOTTEN AGAIN no wait there's another flag okay we're good. There were literal herds of flags. No you know what herd isn't a good word, there were confederations of flags.

My friends were pretty much exactly what I expected, maybe even more so. We got along in the same ways and had trouble in the same ways and it was a bizarre mix of the foreign and the familiar all at once. If you're in a position to meet some people you've known online and well but have been kind of putting it off, I'd encourage you to take the plunge. It's nice.

Side note, I had never consumed alcohol prior to this for mainly personal reasons but I took the plunge. Turns out the real reason I dislike alcohol has nothing to do with the fact that it has psychological affects but rather I just hate the taste. Go figure.

It was a wonderful couple of weeks full of adventure and people and it was rocky at times and I spent more time traveling than I wanted to (I would have preferred more casual hanging out to light tourism personally) but it was great and I loved it and I want to do it again. We did all manner of things, some I'd talk about, a few that I probably wouldn't, and I can't want to do them all (and more) again.

Goodbyes were miserable and painful, but it was to be expected. On my flight back I rescheduled to give myself an extra night in LA to relax (which was a very good idea all things considered). The planes were uneventful and I watched a few in-flight movies and I was sad and that's okay.

After my flight over the pacific and a good rest I'm here. It's now 5 in the morning and I've spent over two hours writing this thing. It's probably about time to actually publish it. I'll probably snooze for a few more hours before checking out and then waiting for my flight back to my home city.

After all that, I'm not sure what the rest of my life is going to look like. But I feel like no matter what, it's going to be a good one.

Stay safe, guys.