#WATCH ME MISSPELL SOMETHING AT MY THIRD TEXT

[katethevampire]

All right so the new episodes just came out like 20 minutes ago for me (oh yeah me from the future here it ended up taking me about 3 hours to finish watching the episodes cuz I kept pausing to write stuff in between so uh yeah lol) so everything under the cut will be my live reaction to everything. I'll add time stamps so you know where I'm at in the episodes. I can guarantee you that I will be sticking to my promise about potentially eating paper if I'm wrong about Sir Pentious not dying. Which honestly now I'm not sure if anyone will die, it was pretty much confirmed in a live stream that angel dust isn't going to be the one to die so my money is on one of the Angels. Also I'm using voice to text and while I'll try and fix any misspellings or wrong words I might miss them.

LOTS OF SWEARING PROBABLY also I very much abuse capslock

EPISODE 7

00:51- I love Sir Pentious looking at Keke I just thought I should mention that

01:03- OH MY GOD NO KEKE MOVED TO HIS LAP AND HE'S PETTING HER I LOVE HIM SM

01:10 aw Alastor was sleepy you guys woke him up!

01:22- I CAN'T EVEN APPRECIATE RAZZLE AND DAZZLE BEING CUTE CHARLIE IS CRYING

01:29- he did the gay little hand thing

01:50- okay so I've already seen this part because of the small leak but I cannot get over the fact that Alastor has his shoes on the bed!! Like man take those off you're getting it dirty!!!!

01:59- mfs kicking his feet on the bed acting like a high school girl about to ask out her crush on the phone at a sleepover like dude you're a serial killer you can't do this to me 😭 also I should probably slow down cuz I'm making an update literally every 2 seconds

02:18 BROS CHECKING HIS NAILS AND DOING THAT POSE WHILE MAKING FUN OF HER ABOUT THE FACT THAT SHE UNINTENTIONALLY MIGHT HAVE CAUSED THE DEATHS OF MILLIONS 💀💀💀 so fruity i love

2:33- Alasto be like "it's called masking deary. Ever heard of it?"

2:44- if he wasn't saying this in such an evil manner right now I'd be saying he's so me frfr

3:07- what do I even say to that line. He popped off but also like respectfully I think I've heard a third grader say the exact same thing

3:53- OKAY SO I WAS GOING TO SAY SOMETHING BUT I'VE COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN LOOK AT THIS FRAME, this could easily be the profile picture for someone's film review channel and I'm not 100% sure that people will understand what I mean by that unless you know a very specific person

04:38- Alastor is in his hat man era

4:33- okay so a few things, thank you subtitles for telling me that the music is edgy I feel like just the word tense would have worked on its own but I appreciate it nonetheless. Number two, I don't like seeing the girlies be mad at each other :(

05:34 I will support my boy Sir Pentious through and through he did nothing wrong!!

06:54- not the voice I was expecting for Rosie but pop up Queen she speaks the truth

07:24- ROSIE KNOWS WHAT YOU ARE ALASTOR. Also his confusion, I love him so much

11:04- she's kind of like that one Pokemon

Ad time!- I DON'T CARE ABOUT VITAMIN PILLS THAT DOUBLE MY LIFESPAN

11:13- catabettes! Cannibals and catabettes!!! This is going into my vocabulary from now on. Also this frame that I paused at I love her face.

11:57- ugh, susan. All my homies hate Susan

12:54- I have a dream, I'm here to cause a scandal in the cannibal square

13:37- :( well it wasn't obvious to me I just thought the x over the eye was to look cool :(

14:35- SONG FUCK YEAH

15:26 If this song came out years ago I know for a fact there would have been an undertale parody version of it. Also I just got a cosmic brownie and some chocolate milk let's go guys we're eating good tonight

16:00 HOLY FUCKING SHIT SHE CAN JUST GROW BACK HER WINGS

16:30- therapist Rosie is not something I thought I'd be seeing today but honestly I love it. Also I don't think I'm going to be able to finish these episodes today because I'm only a little over 15 minutes through and I've been watching for like almost over half an hour and also I just realized that what if Lucifer is the one that dies?

18:12 ALASTOR GAVE HER HIS MICROPHONE I'M GOING TO EXPLODE INTO A BAJILLION CRYING PIECES RAHHHHHH

19:38 I'm going crazy I'm going insane right now bro literally what how I don't know what to say I love this act I don't know, it's just really good I don't know what to say like this is cool I don't I DON'T KNOW! IT'S I I LIKE IT everybody in cannibal town is cool and I like them and it's like 10 seconds later now and they're literally So based like free food like so me I don't know I'm just rambling at this point

20:56 ALASTOR AND ROSIE'S LITTLE DANCE THEIR LITTLE TIPPY TAPS OH MY GOD YES

21:06- alastor, you know it's not right to make someone your political puppet. Your little dances are cute though so I'll allow it for now.

I don't know why it thought I was speaking Spanish for a second but anyways that episode was really cute and good and I liked it but I'm also scared for the next episode cuz like now I'm wondering is someone actually going to die or were people just lying. I feel like either Adam is going to be the one to die or it's going to be Lucifer cuz they mentioned a lot in the previous episode about how Charlie needs to take up the throne and get ready to take her place on the throne like why does she need to take her place on the throne? Isn't that her dad's job??? Please don't kill Lucifer off please please please 🙏 also I'm still not on board and probably will never will be on the whole political puppet thing. Like I just know I just have a feeling in my bones that alastor's favor is going to be something like "Let me be the ruler of hell lololol" or something anyways

EPISODE 8

01:01-Why are you watching other men get fucked?🤨 (/j)

01:19 🥺 I love 🥺 I oove him so 🥺 so much 🥺🥺🥺 does he have a spatula like spongebob

02:02- wait so how is Vox watching them like does he have bug cameras in the air like those little guys in v3 (woah now I have to put a Danganronpa spoiler on this)

03:42 SOFT ALASTOR FANFICTION WRITERS QUICK WRITE THAT DOWN WRITE THAT DOWN!!!

04:18- I'm not even the biggest huskerdust shipper but awwwww also I don't ship him with anyone but I just want to see Sir Pentious happy pleaseeee also the little Melody of loser baby in the background

04:48- ugh I am clutching my heart right now Sir Pentious is my SON and I LOVE HIM

04:58- what the fuck that ao3 tag was canon this WHOLE TIME???? WHEN DID YOU GUYS HEAR ABOUT THIS?????

05:05- I told you angel dust wasn't going to die

05:38- it's like the song but different! Reprise it's called a reprise also is Mimzy gonna come back

07:15- Vox, you know that you guys are going to die if they lose too right?

Okay I can't timestamp this cuz I'll just be pausing every 2 seconds but just know that everything I'm saying after this is from 07:52 to whatever number I put after later right here->09:47

Okay, so this might be a weird comparison but you know like My Little pony Battle scenes? This feels like that in the very best way possible where they have the scenes with all the different characters fighting with the different music.

Oh my God yes Cherry bomb and angel dust I love them also that was a fire transition also I JUST NOTICED THAT SIR PENTIOUS HAT ALSO HAS THE EYE DOES HE JUST HAVE I HATS FOR EVERY OCCASION

Uh oh Adams angry he's going to do a my hero academia

Oh shit it actually worked that's not good.

I TOLD YOU I CALLED IT VOX IS HORNY

Oh my God that is such a cool shot guys someone should make that frame of Alastor their computer background

OH MY GOD WHOEVER ANIMATED THAT SCENE I LOVE YOU I'M LITERALLY GIVING YOU A METAPHORICAL KISS ON THE MOUTH IN THE PLATONIC SENSE ALASTOR LOOKED SO COOL

Guys I think Adam's going to die

😨 okay so Alastor's microphone just broke and I paused it to add that emoji but as I did the people I live with got home so I'm going to have to pause it for there? I'll update if I get prime working on my phone. Also isn't alastor's microphone alive? Maybe that's the character that died.

Update: all right I got it set up on my phone about 30 minutes later now we're resuming

09:47- okay so I think it's interesting that Alastor pretty much lost all his powers as soon as his microphone broke, my guess is probably that whoever has his soul (lilith, eve, or anyone else) gave the mic to him.

09:53- I like the detail that Alastor is still smiling even though he literally just got slammed against the wall, also Vox has the biggest hate boner for Alastor like

10:02- Alastor: "Have to disagree with you there, radio's not dead." Hun you are bleeding out I'm sorry but I don't think you can gaslight girlboss your way out of this one, also I'm sorry to tell you but the only thing they play on my local radio station now besides music is like, a show that's only on at like 7 in the morning where people call to complain about how their husband wraps Christmas presents

10:38- haha silly also EGGS!!

10:43- NO WAIT MY BRAIN DIDN'T REGISTER THAT THAT EGG WAS CRACKED THEY KILLED THE FUCKING EGG!!!!!! Angel, kill them.

11:12- no no no Sir Pentious you better not I don't want to eat paper

11:21- good for him

11:44- NO GOD DAMN IT PLEASE HAVE A REVEAL THAT ALASTOR OR LUCIFER OR SOMEONE ELSE SAVED HIM PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏 I AM BEGGING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES

12:03- okay this is really cool but is he actually dead cuz I'll legitimately be really sad if so

12:50- *that one vine* "*gasp* Adam."

13:23- KILL HIS ASS CHARLIE

14:12 yes Vaggie, queen shit

SIR PENTIOUS ARE YOU DEAD /J OR /SRS?????

14:35 I KNEW IT I KNOW HE WAS GOING TO COME BACK I MEAN I GOT KIND OF SPOILED CUZ I I SAW THE COVER OF THE EPISODE BUT WOAH 10/10 ENTRANCE

14:44- gasp! His face!

15:00- he is, so stupid. I love him.

15:51-okay I went quiet for a minute cuz there were so much happening but oh my God what do I even say this is just so cool also I don't know if this is intentional or not but the blood stain on Charlie's hair is shaped like an apple

16:34- NIFFTY RAHHHHHHH

17:08- wait okay I had a brief thought that maybe lute was actually Eve but I think I'm wrong on that

17:13- Sir Pentious would've liked pancakes :((((((

Ad Time! I don't care about hard Rock Cafe I just want to know whether or not Sir Pentious is actually dead please I'm going through all the stages of grief right now and Brandan Rogers just came on my screen as Katie killjoy please

18:04- Keke :(

Oh my God they're going to find him in the rubble right? ... Right?? Right guys right???????

18:10- fat nuggets survived that's good I see a rock that looks suspiciously shaped like Sir Pentious military hat whoa guys I wonder if that means anything and it looks like it's up like someone is standing? Whoa I wonder if they'll check behind that rock please

18:16- wait is he actually dead I'm genuinely about to cry

19:16- I am not crying about his death until the episode ends I am not crying until it is 100% CONFIRMED that he died

20:50- omg alastor's alive, he's in his Jack's skeleton era that means that maybe Sir Pentious is also-

21:08- friends :) he said friends just saying

22:04- I TOLD YOU I FUCKING TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU THAT BY DYING IT WAS JUST A CHARACTER BEING REDEEMED I TOLD YOU I'M SO SMART I'M NOT EATING PAPER HAHAHAHAHA I'M THE GREATEST MAN ALIVE HE'S NOT DEAD MY SNAKE BOY ISN'T DEAD HOW DID I GET SO ATTACHED TO HIM I DON'T KNOW BUT I LOVE HIM YES I CAN'T EXPRESS MY EMOTIONS RIGHT NOW I'M GENUINELY SO HAPPY THIS IS WHY THIS IS WHY I WAITED UNTIL THE VERY END TO CRY ABOUT HIM I KNEW HE WASN'T GOING TO BE DEAD THEY WOULDN'T KILL HIM OFF THEY WOULDN'T KILL MY SNAKE BOY OFF JUST LIKE THAT

22:34- you're telling me Lilith was just doing hot girl shit on the beach for 7 years.

[rubyleaf]

Went through my blog again for the funsies and discovered an old, old tag game from 2016. And boy, am I shaking my head at it. Not only is 17-year-old me hilariously and stubbornly convinced she's straight, she's also very self-deprecating and generally not in a good place.

So I thought: why not answer these questions again, over seven years later, just to see how things have changed?

So here goes. The update.

MOST RECENT:

Drink: Water! I have a glass next to me right now and I'm staying nice and hydrated :) Phone call: Mom, earlier this afternoon, to make sure I'm still healthy and haven't died from acute Moved Out And Living Unsupervised Disease. Shockingly, I'm alive and well. Text: Dad, joking about the Berlin lioness boar thing. I still refuse to believe it was a boar BTW. I don't know what it was, but those pictures do NOT look like a boar.

Song you listened to: Saosin – "You're Not Alone" Time you cried: You know, I genuinely don't remember. Might've been weeks ago. I barely cry anymore these days, except from laughter or the occasional tearing up over a heartwarming scene in a show.

Dated someone twice: No, and unless the circumstances were very special, I wouldn't. If the ship has sailed, it has sailed for a reason. Been cheated on: Single, thriving, in my lane, cannot be cheated on if I don't have a partner. Peace and love on Planet Earth. Lost someone special: Lost touch with many friends over the years. Staying in touch is still hard. But honestly, some of them turned out to not be that special after all in the first place and a lot have stayed too, so really, it's fine. Been depressed: Nah. Been drunk and thrown up: Still don't like alcohol, still don't drink ✌️ Your three favourite colours: Purple! And pink, and the third one…maybe red!

IN THE LAST YEAR, HAVE YOU:

Made a new friend: So many. So so many. Fallen out of love: Yep! Laughed until you cried: Just this week alone! Met someone who changed you: I think so! Found out who your true friends are: Yes. And to the people who turned out not to be—thanks for making it easier to watch you leave right now. Found out someone’s talking about you: In the "bringing up my existence" way? Yes. Badly? No—someone probably did, but not my problem.

EXTRAS

How many people from your fb list do you know irl: What Facebook? Do you have any pets: Not at the moment. Hard to keep any in a dorm room. I'd like to maybe get a small dog someday though! Do you want to change your name: Not anymore. When I was little I used to hate my name because everyone kept misspelling or mispronouncing it, but now I like it even if people still get it wrong all the time. Sometimes it still feels weird and othering, in an irrational sort of way, but I can't imagine myself being called anything else. What did you do for your last birthday: Had drinks with some people from my orientation group in one guy's dorm apartment. Casually came out as bi over a game of Never Have I Ever. Wound up at a party even though I had an 8:30 AM class the next morning. Zero regrets. What were you doing last night at midnight? Sitting on my bed and hitting play on the brand-new Meet Me @ the Altar song that dropped last night!!! Name something you can’t wait for: MM@TA EU tour in October! I've been obsessed with them for two years and finally they come here to play some shows and the first time I saw the announcement I legit busted a lip in my excitement. Unfortunately not a hyperbole.

Last time you saw your mum: Last time I visited home—early May I think? What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: Better executive functions so I struggle less with getting stuff done, especially uni stuff and household chores. Currently trying to do something about that, actually! If I'm really lucky I might get an ADHD diagnosis in the foreseeable future and maybe meds…? What are you listening to rn: Fall Out Boy – "We Didn't Start the Fire" Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Often. It's quite a common name where I live! What’s getting on your nerves rn: One word: THESIS. Which I for some reason struggle to do anything about. Blood type: Still unknown! Nickname: Several shorter forms of my civilian name. On here, Ruby. Zodiac Sign: Aquarius Pronouns: she/her Favourite tv show: At the moment: ATLA (and Legend of Korra), Ted Lasso, Good Omens. Probably more I'm forgetting. High school: Graduated in 2016! College: In my Masters! I have an undergraduate degree in law now :D Long or short hair: Long, down to my hips. I used to have short hair as a kid, but I’ve always wanted long hair. Height: 159 cm or 5′2.5′’. Do you have a crush on someone: I try to tell myself that no, I'm just very fond of the person. Platonically. What do you like about yourself: I'm creative and adaptable! I'm good at winging it when the situation requires it, and I usually get things figured out one way or another. I'm a hype woman for my friends, and I like the way I can find joy and excitement in all corners of life. Also, not to toot my own horn but I'm really proud of my style right now! Right or left handed: Right-handed. First surgery: None. Piercing: None. First best friend: Probably Rebecca, in first grade. It’s a shame I moved away, I wonder what she’s doing now. First sport you joined: Ballet, when I was five or six. Kept doing it until early fifth grade, then changed to horseback riding. First vacation: Probably to my grandparents’ vacation home somewhere at the North Sea. Don’t remember a thing though, I was one or something.

RIGHT NOW:

Eating: Nothing. Drinking: Water, still! I’m about to: Hopefully write a bit more for the mystery project 👀 Listening to: Meet Me @ the Altar – "Give It Up"

WANT:

Kids: Yes, eventually. I'd like a stable partner first (although if push comes to shove I wouldn't mind raising my kids solo), and most importantly I'd like to be my own person for a couple of years and not be bound by duty to everyone else. Travel, explore the world and myself, get all that out of my system so I can truly go into motherhood with no regrets. Get married: Yes, if I find the right person to do it with. Career: Study law and work for the EU or an NGO.

WHICH IS BETTER:

Lips or eyes: Eyes. I don't pay much attention to lips outside of someone having a cute smile! Hugs or kisses: Kisses are nice, but I still prefer hugs! Taller or shorter: IDGAF. I still love my tall lanky noodle men, but I'm not picky. With women, even less so. Girl is taller than me? Awesome, great for being held. Shorter than me? CUTE. Older or younger: Around my age, rest doesn't matter. I'm at an age where anything between 20-30 is fair game, but any younger or older and it gets creepy. Romantic or spontaneous: A mixture of both. Nice stomach or nice arms: If the person is nice, their body will be nice too. It's an automatic process. I don't make the rules. Sensitive or loud: A combination of both! Troublemaker or hesitant: Secret third thing where they're chaotic but also too shy to really make a move.

HAVE YOU EVER

Kissed a stranger: Does "someone I talked to all evening but didn't know before that and didn't meet again afterwards" count? Drank liquor: Tried a bit, same as everybody. Found it nasty. Didn't try again. Lost glasses/contacts: Don't have any to lose. (Given the way I've been treating my eyes: yet?) Had sex on the first date: I'm asexual and I refuse. Broke someone’s heart: Yes, and let's leave it at that. Turned someone down: I'm a woman existing in public. Having to turn down random men is a recurring part of my experience. Cried when someone died: Not really—I seem to shut down and go blank more than anything else. I used to feel guilty about it, but now I've learned that everyone processes grief and loss differently and it doesn't mean I care less. Fallen for a friend: Yes, repeatedly, it has yet to end well, and it will probably happen again.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN

Yourself: Mostly yes. There are some things I need help with before I can unlock my full potential, but one thing I've learned is that I always manage in the end. And once I get proper help, I have no doubt I'll be just fine. Miracles: I don't like to rely on them, but I do believe that unlikely good things can and do happen. Love at first sight: Not for myself, I need to get to know a person before I fall for them. I do believe in attraction at first sight though. Heaven: It's a nice thought, but whether or not it exists doesn't matter to me. Our task in life is the same regardless: try to be kind and treat others well and hopefully leave the world a slightly better place. Santa Claus: No, and never really have. My parents never claimed he was real; my Christmas presents always came from the family that visited on Christmas Eve. Kissing on a first date: Did it once, it was okay. I think it's one of those "take it or leave it" things—if the chemistry is right, sure, go for it, but it's definitely not for everyone in every situation.

[the-best-tomato]

Out of all my little au’s about pokemon, this is one of my favorites that I like to replay in my head from time to time.

It starts with the reader just suddenly ending up in the world of pokemon, doesn’t really matter how it happened, you just one day appear on a bench in Monostoke with a text message from god along the lines of, “Yeah, I kinda made a mistake bringing you here, but I can’t exactly send you back. Best I can do is give you a working ID and 500 poke dollars, good luck.” 

As a reasonable person, your only kinda majorly upset at the news of this, but realizing that your going to make the best out of your situation, so you quickly check up on where you exactly landed plot wise, only to find that you’re at just before the main plot starts. A new goal then presents itself to you, DON’T MESS UP THE PLOT. It’s a simple goal really, you don’t want to some how mess up someone catching Eternatus and have it go on to destroy the region, where would you live then, you can’t exactly afford a ticket out of the country at the moment. 

So you find a job in Wyndon, the last place that the protagonists go and find a job at a Battle Cafe. You find the job to be quite entertaining, watching people battle for seating while serving them sweets while business is slow, but when in the middle of a rush, you tend to zone out, barely being able to remember your regulars faces. This is also where Leon enters the picture. He’s your hundredth or so customer during the rush so you’re not paying too much attention any more, although you do find it odd the way he’s dressed, a face mask, grey hat and sweater to match. Then his order’s even stranger, just a small black coffee, no sugar or milk. He even refuses the free cookie on the side, what a weird guy. But because you’re rushing, you don’t leave much more to that thought and misspell his name on his coffee cup as Lee. 

The second time he comes along is when the end of your shift is nearing, and you’re tired from the rush that happened not too long ago. He comes in with the same outfit as before, minus the face mask, but very much wet from the rain outside. As you’re also cleaning up the shop however, you don’t really pay much attention to that fact, or to his face for that matter. But you do engage in small talk ranging from the rain, to pokemon battles that you both had recently seen to the strange news of pokemon gigamaxing outside of power spots and the wild area. 

You finally get him his drink after half an hour, the same black coffee from before, and when you ask him his name to write on the cup, he chuckles a bit, and says “Lee, just call me Lee.”

The third time he comes by is at the beginning of your shift, and this is the first time where you actually recognize him for who he is, the champion, Leon. Of course, not to make things too awkward, you just pretend you still don’t know who he is. He even asks you if you watch the gym challenge on tv, and you to save yourself, say no, you don’t even watch that much tv or follow any sports. 

This surprises Leon, but he’s quick to change the subject after that. Probably so you can both talk about something you would both know, but in the back of your head you can’t help but think that it was possibly because he just wanted someone to talk to that would treat him like a normal person, not the champion. 

You two hang out like this a bit more, at the starts and ends of your shifts a few times before another gym leader tags along, Nessa. Of course, when you take their orders, she tells you her name is Nessy, (Oh wow), but you all get along nicely. And when they leave you see her shove his arm in a playful, teasing matter.

This happens a few more times with various other gym leaders before Raihan follows Leon in. You begin chatting them up almost instantly, and you immediately get hit with Raihan openly flirting with you. Trying to keep your innocent and oblivious persona going, you out right ignore him doing so, and before too long you feel the tension in the room rise as you pour them both coffee, your back turned so you don’t see Leon absolutely staring daggers at Raihan. They leave shortly after you hand them their drinks, making you a bit confused in the end, as they had only been there for 5 minutes, and Raihan had stopped flirting after a few attempts of his had failed. 

This event probably would have caused you to worry a bit more, but literally the day afterwards, the darkest day occurred, and you got a few days off of work, before getting back to the grind. You realized after your second day back that Leon still hadn’t shown up, but with him still being the champion for a few more days, it wouldn’t surprise you if he was helping repair damages from the darkest day, and also trining to find Ex- Chairman Rose. 

It was in the newspaper, one of the days that you actually bought it as you walked to work. As you walked through the streets, ducking into an alleyway as a shortcut, the news caused you to short circuit for a second. 

Leon had once again kept his wining streak, getting to be champion for at least one more year. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. As you struggle to figure out why this occurred, with your nose buried in the paper,  you bump into someone, and as you look up to apologize, you freeze, it’s Leon, in his champion attire at that. And when he looks at the paper you’re holding, seeing his face on the cover, his face contorting from happy to see you to... whatever that was, you run. 

He calls after you, but you run. You don’t know why.

You get on the train, stopping after 30 minutes because of a flock of wooloo, when it hits you.

You fell in love. And that happy little pretend bubble you both loved so much just popped. There couldn’t be anymore pretending anymore. You would have to talk to him eventually, if he even tried to talk to you. You would have to go back.

But ... you’re a coward, so you just called in sick.

Wandering around Hammerlocke, you pretended to be a tourist. Looking through all of the old buildings and structures is quite nice as you avoid any digital build boards with his face. You sit on a bench, looking out onto the wild area, when Raihan passes you by, on the phone. He takes a double take, before ending his call and turning back to you to say hey. 

He sits down, and talks about the view for a bit before asking you if you know who the champion is.

“Yes, yes I do.”

Tears begin to fall down your face, turning onto a flood, as Raihan tries his best to comfort you. You began to spill, that you had known for awhile now, but you didn’t want to bring it up because you didn’t want to make things awkward or disappoint him or lose him or-

“Oh Arceus, what happened?”

There he was, in the flesh, again. Leon. He looked disheveled, like he had run a marathon, yet he was still wearing his champion outfit from earlier. He rushed over to you, taking off and draping his cape over you as he asks if you’re alright. 

You aren’t alright, but you say yes as you continue to tear up and stare at the setting sun. 

Leon begins to say how sorry he is that he didn’t tell you that he was the champion, but with a soft murmur about how you’ve known for a while now. He quiets down, and as you two just sit there, not knowing what to say next, Raihan slips out of there. 

Not too long after, he takes you back to Wyndon by way of Charizard and you spend the night at his apartment in the city, just watching random shows you find on late at night. 

And when you make up in the morning, it’s to the news going on how the champion might have found someone else, rather than any challengers to give a champion of a time to, followed by what you could see of his phone. Hop and his mother, and a few other numbers sending a few variations of the text, ‘When did you get a girlfriend Mr. Workaholic!’

Oh... well at least you aren’t interfering with the plot anymore.  

[I’m sorry if it seemed a little rushed at the end, it’s my first time really writing down something like this, there were also a few plot lines I skipped in order for the story to be a bit more cohesive.]

[dumbikawa]

Being Stressed About Exams & HQ Boys Comforting You

GN!Reader | Comfort/Fluff | Warnings: stressed reader

Characters: Atsumu, Oikawa

A/n: This is extremely self-indulgent as school has been kicking my butt and the future post-graduation is very terrifying lol

ATSUMU

You stare at the computer in front of you, the text you’re supposed to read for class beginning to swim together as your eyes fill with tears. Everything is happening too fast and you feel completely unprepared to take any of it on. What if you spent all of this time and money on schooling only to fail so close to the end? What if you finally do finish, but then can’t find a job in your field? Should you have studied something else? The questions become more exhausting and constant the closer it gets to exams. 

Small droplets roll off your cheeks and begin to pool on your keyboard. You haphazardly wipe them away before powering off the computer and tucking it back in your bag. Out of sight, out of mind, you figure. It’s not like there’s any use in trying to finish it tonight when you can already feel another wave of stress induced tears coming on. Those have also become a regular thing.

You click the volume button on your phone so that the sounds of music fill the room before leaning back in the desk chair, testing the limits of how far you can recline before gravity takes over. Atsumu had made this study playlist for you when he first noticed how stressed you were. It contained a mixture of your favorite songs, his favorite songs, and a few ‘motivational’ songs he pulled from his work-out playlists. It was a bit of a weird Frankenstein mash up with the large variety of genres, but it quickly became one of your studying must haves.

Over the sound of the music, you couldn’t hear the shower click off and the door to the bathroom swinging open. When Atsumu steps out, he sees you sitting where he’d left you, although, in a more dangerous position than you’d been in before as he notices the way the desk char teeters back and forth. His attention is quickly caught by the music choice, though, recognizing one of the songs playing as a favorite of his he added to the playlist he made for you a couple weeks ago. A smile breaks through his face as he hurriedly jumps into a pair of sweatpants before approaching your quiet figure.

As he comes up behind you, though, he notices a slight glisten upon your cheeks and a few fresh tears that tumble from your closed eyes. His upturned lips quickly sink as worry floods through him. Exams had been taking a toll on you, it wasn’t hard to tell, but he would never get used to seeing you cry.

“Baby,” he whispers, gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “What can I do for ya? Food? Cuddles? Cry it out?” You nod, resting the chair back on the ground and practically launching yourself into his arms.

Atsumu catches you with ease, his strong arms holding you against his chest. His hand rubs up and down your spine, sending shivers racing down you back, but there's no ulterior motive to his gentle touches. He continues the soft touches as he guides you to the bed, only letting you go for a second before allowing you to bury yourself in his side again.

“What if I can’t do it?” you whisper, trailing your fingers across Atsumu's toned chest. “I’ve studied for so long, but what if it doesn’t work out? What if--What if I don’t actually know anything and I crash and burn and--”

Atsumu shushes you gently, placing a few comforting kisses to your forehead. He notices your breathing beginning to grow heavier as your anxiety takes over. There's a few moments of silence as you try to match your breathing to his, the two of you taking slow, deep breaths in sync.

“The future might be unsure and stressful, but I know you’re going to do your best and make it work. All you can do is continue to work towards your goals and handle everything as it comes. Not to mention, I’m always going to be here to remind you of how strong you are even if you don’t see it.”

A new wave of tears begins as his words echo through your ears. You bury your face in his chest as your arms wrap around his waist in an attempt to pull yourself as close to him as you physically can be. Somehow he knew exactly what you needed to hear and a part of you wonders if he’s ever repeated those sentiments to himself when things felt unsure.

He continues to whisper reassurances as you fully relax against him, your tears finally beginning to dry up. You lift your head and offer him a weak smile.

“Thanks for letting me cry on your abs,” you sniffle, allowing yourself to truly laugh.

Atsumu feels lighter as he watches you smile and joke, hopefully being able to forget about the more stressful parts of life for a while as he holds you close. There’s been countless times where you eased his worries about the future, so he’s just happy that he can return the favor and create a safe space where you’re allowed to simply be.

OIKAWA

The cup in your hand is warm and comforting as you trudge towards your bedroom, a sense of dread washing over you as soon as your eyes land upon the laptop you left sitting open on the bed. With finals coming up, you thought it would be a good idea to transfer the notes you had written down during lectures onto your computer, figuring it would make them easier to access and that the process of going back through the information would be a good way to ensure you remember the material.

What you didn’t realize, however, is how absolutely time consuming and exhausting it was going to be. Your neck hurts from constantly looking back and forth between the paper and computer screen, your back hurts because somewhere along the way you abandoned any semblance of healthy posture and decided to go full cave gremlin in the way you hunched over your work, and instead of absorbing the information for a second time it seemed as if your brain had completely abandoned you and gone on autopilot. Shoving the computer off the bed and taking a nap feels like the best course of action right now, but you know if you stop now there’s no way you’re going to want to finish later.

Begrudgingly, you settle back onto the bed and take a large swig of coffee before stretching your fingers and placing them back on the keyboard. It couldn’t take that much longer right? All you have to do is push through and get it done.

And, for the next few hours, that’s what you do. You jump back in where you left off and race through the next few, gruelingly long chapters. The daylight outside quickly dwindles away until you’re forced to turn on the bedside lamp when you realize the sun has sunk far below the horizon and is beginning to cast bizarre shadows around the room. It was no bother, though, because you’re so close to being done. The issue is that neither your brain nor your body could keep up anymore.

Your fingers keep hitting the wrong keys, typing made up words that have you constantly backspacing and starting sentences over again for a third of even a fourth time. The breaking point comes when you go to take a sip of your now cold coffee and look back at the screen after attempting to type an entire paragraph from your notes in one go. Little did you know your finger placement was off, yet again, and the entire paragraph is an unreadable mess that even spell check doesn’t want to touch.

The tears that sting your eyes make you feel stupid. It was entirely too dumb to cry over something as superficial as misspellings that could be easily fixed and cold coffee. But once the tears start they won’t stop. Suddenly, you’re not crying over the notes or even school work in general. You’re crying about the crushing weight of change that's soon to come once you finish with classes and how impossible everything has begun to feel.

You’re too exhausted to focus on anything anymore, letting the hot tears run down your cheeks freely, which is why you don’t hear the rushed footsteps of your boyfriend who could hear your hiccuping breaths from down the hall. 

He doesn’t say anything when he sees you curled up on the bed, your face buried in your arms. Oikawa sits on the ground closest to you and lays his head near yours as he begins to run his slender fingers through your hair. It doesn't take a psychic to tell you've been stressed with the quickly approaching exams, and from the collection of notes littered all around to the half closed computer the dots practically connect themselves.

The slight dip on the bed near your head alerts you to his presence, but you don't move. His hands guiding themselves over your scalp is quick to relax your body, but your mind feels like it's about to burst any moment as the thoughts continue to race.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers against your temple, planting soft kisses after every word, “and you deserve to take a break. Remember when you used to have to tell me that all the time?" The feeling of his quiet laughter against your skin makes you smile, along with the memories of simpler times before either of you had barely begun to grasp how harsh the world could be.

"I picked up dinner for us, it was an apology for coming home late," he admits, kissing the top of your head. "But let's go heat it up and you can either tell me everything you're worried about or we can try to forget all about it for now and watch a movie. I'd really like it if you talked about it eventually, though. I know I'm not going to be able to fix it all, but that doesn't mean I can't try."

You turn your head to the side, exposing your tear stained cheeks that are quickly wiped away by Oikawa's calloused thumbs.

"I will," you say, voice heavy. "For now could you just hold me?" There isn't a second of hesitation as Oikawa slips his arms beneath your figure and presses you tightly against him.

"Movie it is," he announces, laying you on the couch with the remotes so that you could put on whatever you want. Your brain would never stop the constant anxious thoughts, but losing yourself in those chocolate brown eyes made it easy to imagine a future where it all works out somehow. Little do you know, Oikawa sees the same thing reflected in your eyes as he wonders about the right time, perhaps a couple years from now when you've both settled down in your careers, when he can finally buy that ring he's been looking at.

[zevlors-tail]

Can you plz make a one-shot with Midoriya and his crush cuddling him because she is sad and Deku tries to calm her down. She ends up telling her feelings for him and tells him how much she loves him. I thought it would be cute.....

This is super cute! I love it! Thanks for requesting! :) I hope you like it. <3

You sighed as the rain drummed against your dorm window, soft thundering sounds echoing in the distance. School was over for the day, your training was canceled no thanks to the rain (though it more likely had to do with the fact that things were rough lately for everyone including the teachers at UA, so maybe this was their way of giving everyone a small break), and it was a drab Friday night with nothing else to do. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true, seeing as you’d been invited to the impromptu movie/dinner night that your class had thrown together at the last minute. You were sure it would be fun; Mina was probably already setting up her laptop for the movie, you could practically smell the delicious food that Bakugou would be making for dinner, and you imagined your best friends Asui, Iida, Izuku, and Ochaco sharing a huge bowl of popcorn, some drinks, and the large cuddle pile they were probably heaped in already. It wasn’t that you wanted to miss out on all of that...in fact, you wanted so desperately to be down there with everyone else. But...

You couldn’t help yourself as you pulled your knees to your chest, your face pressing into them to hide the hot tears streaming down your face. Sometimes, you just felt sad. You didn’t really have a reason for it- nothing had happened out of the ordinary, had it? You wracked your brain for any and every reason you could find, but honestly...there were none. This happened occasionally. You never told anyone, but sometimes the world just felt like it was caving in, and for no good reason either. You didn’t understand it, but you weren’t particularly concerned about it since it didn’t happen often and it usually didn’t last very long (a day at the most). However, it could get in the way of seeing your friends and family, just as it was now. There was no way you were going to go see them all looking like a complete train wreck with your red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. You’d been crying since the moment you got back to your dorm, and it showed.

Your phone pulled you from your thoughts as it made a dinging noise, the familiar text tone you picked out for your best friend Izuku sounding throughout your room. You ignored it at first, tears starting to come faster as your sobbed harder and took shaky breaths. You missed your friends. As selfish as it was, you wished they were here with you and not watching a movie with the rest of the class in the common area. Your phone dinged again for a second time, and then a third and a fourth, maybe even more. Eventually you silenced it after hearing it so much, then finally wiped at your eyes before letting out a small whine and picking it up in your hands. If Izuku was texting you this much then you should answer him, even if it was about wanting you to come down and watch the movie with them. Otherwise, he would probably come up and get you himself, and then you would have a hell of a time trying to explain what was wrong and why you were crying your tired eyes out. It would be hard to convince him you were okay after that, and you didn’t want to bother him or anyone else for that matter with this.

Izuku Are you coming down to watch the movie? 5:37pm

Izuku Y/N? 5:50pm

Izuku Are you okay? Please text me back so I know you’re alright. Everyone’s worried about you. 5:52pm

Izuku I’m worried about you... 5:52pm

Izuku If you don’t text back in the next 5 minutes I’m coming up to check on you. 5:55pm

You glanced at the clock in the upper lefthand corner of your phone.

5:59pm

Shit!

You typed out a hastily made response, your thumb hovering over the send button for a moment as you debated whether it was even worth it to do so. What was the point? Nothing was going to change how you were feeling, and the text you had come up with sounded nothing like you. In your saddened state you had typed out a mess of jumbled words, misspelled and haphazardly thrown together; he would know something was wrong from the text anyway. You deemed it better to just ignore the whole thing and go back to wallowing in sadness for the night. So, you lay your head down on your pillow, threw the blanket over yourself, and turned towards the window to stare out of it while you cried silently, your gaze focused on nothing in particular.

Not even a minute later you heard a soft knock at your door. It’s probably Midoriya, you thought, ignoring the growing headache the knocking was causing. If he would just leave you alone to suffer in peace, then you would be fine. It would pass, and you would go back to normal the next day, and no one would ever have to know about this. Another knock resounded, this time louder, and you groaned quietly so he wouldn’t hear you on the other side of the door.

“Y/N...? Are you awake? Please, let me in.” His voice carried in from the hallway, and even though it was muffled by the wall, there was evident concern and fret in it.

Despite the boy’s efforts to get you to let him in your room, you ignored him and continued crying to yourself. You willed him to go away and stay at the same time; you wanted to be left alone, but you didn’t. Wanted him to be there for you and talk to you about it, but you wanted him to leave. Wanted to have support, but didn’t want to ask for it yourself. Feelings were a double edged sword. 

Your phone lit up next to you, illuminating the dark room with a brightness that made you screw your eyes shut for a second. It was another message from Izuku.

Izuku I know you’re in there, and I know you’re reading my messages. What’s wrong? 6:01pm

Izuku was no idiot, and he knew you were ignoring him. At this rate he was likely to barge into your room, and you didn’t want that. You just had to convince him to leave, then. But how? Your voice was hoarse from crying all night, and you weren’t sure that you could give a proper “I’m fine” if you tried, anyway. You’d probably end up botching it and crying again halfway through. If you couldn’t verbally tell him you were okay, then what...?

You unlocked your phone with a shaky hand and opened your messages before deleting what you had previously typed, then slowly typed out a short message before finally hitting send.

Y/N Im fine jst tired slepying sorry 6:02pm

Luckily for you, Izuku knew better. You two had been best friends for a long time now, and he knew you like the back of his scarred hands. He knew what could bring a smile to your face, how you liked your tea, what subjects you struggled and excelled in, and which of your friends you were closest to (he especially liked to pride himself in knowing he was number one on that list). Fortunately for you both, the list of things he knew and understood about you included the little mannerisms that you had when something was bothering you. 

So when he finally received a response from you with no punctuation and grammar mistakes, he knew something was wrong. That, coupled with how you had been ignoring his texts earlier and then how you suddenly sent back a response in such little time told him that you weren’t okay. It seemed like such a small thing to pick at...such a small thing to overlook. But Izuku had long since learned that sometimes the little things in life could make a world of difference to someone else. Those little things he learned about you were the most important things he knew, because in times like these, they helped him determine what to do for you. He wasted no time in trying your doorknob, and upon finding it unlocked, he let himself in to your darkened room with the excuse that something just didn’t feel right about your situation.

The door shut behind him as he spoke, “I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t just let myself in, but you-”  He stopped mid sentence as he heard a sniffle, and then a muffled sob coming from the misshapen lump under your covers. “Y-Y/N?” It only took him half a second to figure out that the noise he was hearing was you crying, and by then he was already rushing over to see if you were okay. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well? Did I do something? I’m sorry I barged in like that! I was just worried-”

“No, no, no,” you shook your head and denied his apology with more tears, your hand coming up to wipe at your face. “You...you didn’t do anything, so- so please don’t apologize-!” you choked out. “I didn’t want you to see me like this...” 

In an effort to hide your ashamed face, you pulled your covers over your chin and buried your face in your pillow so he couldn’t see the damage done by hours worth of crying. The darkness of the room helped a little, shadows dancing on your bed as the stormy weather raged on outside. However, Izuku wordlessly sat next to you on your bed and reached over to your night stand to tug at the cord to your lamp, and suddenly light was illuminating your bed and your figure...including your face. Izuku let out a small gasp at the proper sight of you, concern for you winding his stomach into knots. 

“Y/N...” he sighed softly. “Why didn’t you say anything? Have you been crying this whole time?”

You said nothing, only giving a slight nod of your head at his words with your eyes screwed shut, fresh tears welling up. Izuku held back a sniffle himself (always the sympathetic crier) before unexpectedly pulling back your covers and sliding under them next to you. The next thing you knew, he was spooning you from behind with an arm draped over your side, his thumb rubbing soothingly against you while you cried it all out. Any apologies attempted on your behalf after that were hushed quickly by your best friend, and you found yourself quieting down, albeit slowly. You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, cuddling in your bed for comfort. The movie you were supposed to be watching with everyone else was long since forgotten about, and you were starting to regret not eating dinner- your stomach was protesting in growls and rumbles at the worst times, but you stayed where you were, afraid to disturb your cuddle buddy if you moved at all. And when your cries turned to small sniffles and your breathing evened out a bit, Izuku finally broke the comfortable silence between you both.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You pondered the question for a moment before responding. “What’s there to talk about, really?” It wasn’t like you had a legitimate explanation for him; you were sad without a reason. It happened sometimes. There wasn’t much you could do about it.

But Izuku, interpreting your statement in a different way, immediately pulled you closer and nuzzled his face to the back of your neck in reassurance. “You can’t bottle everything up like that. Something is clearly wrong with my best friend, and I’d like to know what so I can help. Please just let me in.”

“Oh, no, that’s not- I didn’t mean...” You tried to explain the best you could. “I appreciate you trying to help, Izuku. I really do. Sometimes I just...get sad. That’s all there is to it. I know it’s stupid, but there’s just no reason behind it. I just...feel sad. Maybe there’s something wrong with me...”

“It’s not stupid,” he rebuked firmly. “It’s more common than you’d think for people to be sad without a reason. We all have days like that, and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re any less of a human being because of it, or that there’s something wrong with you.” 

“...really?” You rolled over to face him, your eyes meeting his as you looked up at him.

“Of course. But I wish you would have told me sooner so I could have been there to help you through it, Y/N. That’s what I’m here for. You can lean on me for support and ask for help, it’s okay.” He brought a hand to your face and tilted your chin up towards him so he could have all of your focus and attention, and suddenly you were aware of how very close his face was to yours. “I know it might be a lot to ask, but...can you promise me something?”

You stared into his deep emerald eyes, admiring the sincerity and ferocity you saw in them. “Anything,” you murmured. For Izuku, you would give your entire world up and more. Being this close in proximity to him reminded you of your giant crush on the boy; you’d liked him for a long time, ever since you’d met him back in middle school in fact, but you had never mentioned anything to him or asked him out because you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had. There were times where you thought maybe he returned your feelings, but then you would doubt yourself and brush it all off with the excuse that he was like that with everyone; he loved all his friends, was touchy with all of his friends, would go to great lengths to make all of his friends happy. You were nothing special.

“Promise me you’ll tell me when you’re sad next time so I can help you.”

Of course he would ask that of you. And of course you promised you would do so, because this was Izuku- your best friend, current cuddle buddy, and your obvious crush. “I promise.”

“Good.” He patted your cheek playfully and smiled down at you in content. “I heard your stomach grumbling earlier, by the way. You never came down for dinner, did you?”

“No,” you answered simply. You had been too upset to even stop in the common area to greet anyone or say anything before you had headed up to your dorm for the night.

“Then let’s go get you something to eat; I’m pretty sure Kacchan saved you some of what he made for dinner.” 

He moved to get up from your bed. You weren’t sure what compelled you to do so, but you were filled with brazenness all of the sudden, unafraid of the consequences of your actions if even just for a small moment. You grabbed Izuku’s arm before he could leave, pulling him back a bit and earning his undivided attention.

“Actually...there’s something I want to tell you first.”

“What is it?” 

He looked at you curiously as you bit your bottom lip and thought about how you were going to say this. It was usually best to be direct, right? Well, that’s what you were going to go with then. And if things didn’t work out...you didn’t really want to think about getting rejected. There was a lot you were putting on the line by doing this...your friendship included. You were tired of holding yourself back though, tired of keeping your feelings inside for so long. Maybe it was the cuddling, maybe it was how close your faces had been to each other, or maybe it was the soothing sounds of the rain pouring down from the heavens. Whatever it was, something had made you feel closer to him, and you wanted that all the time. You wanted a warm fuzzy relationship with him full of affection and love and care.

“Izuku. I love you.” Awkward silence filled the room, and before you could be rejected, you started to explain yourself, as if that would help your situation. “I’ve always really liked you, and you’ve always been there for me, and you’re so kind and caring and amazing! But I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t think you liked me back, and I was afraid to ruin our friendship. And now I’m afraid I have...agh, what did I do? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, but I just couldn’t hold it in anymore and-”

You were interrupted with a kiss as Izuku quickly pressed his soft lips to yours, and just like that, he was pulling away as fast as he had swooped in.

“S-Sorry! I should have asked fir- Mmph!”

If he thought he could get away with kissing you and not being kissed in return, then he was sorely mistaken. No way in hell were you letting him go now that you knew he returned your feelings.

“I don’t mind at all.” You smiled at him as you pulled away, and he gave you a lopsided grin in return. 

“You know I love you too, right?”

“I do now.” 

“Don’t you forget it! Now come on,” he said, tugging you up and out of bed gently. “Let’s go fix you some dinner.”

[messilymoonlit]

masterpost of all my favorite yahoo answers i’ve collected

image IDs under the read more :]

[image id: 17 screenshots of various yahoo answers

the first yahoo answers question is one asked by yahoo answers user ‘Holly’ in the ‘reptiles’ section of the ‘pets’ category. The title of the question reads “I ate a bunch of crickets and I might be sick?” The body of the question reads “my parents are out of town in new zealand and i’m stuck at their house watching their dog and lizard, a crested gecko. He’s a good boy and I like to remind him of that by giving him a cricket to chow down on every once in a blue moon. He also gets his normal powder food. I was just giving him a cricket and wondered what they were like to eat for humans. I popped one in my”. the rest of the question is cut off by blue text reading “...Show more.”

the second question is in the ‘Other- Canada’ section. The question title reads “What do Canadians do for food?” The question’s body reads “What animals do they prefer to hunt & gather? How do they prepare their meals?” Yahoo answers displays this question as having 10 answers.

the third question is in the ‘Non-Alcoholic Drinks’ category. The question title reads “Am I Coca Cola?” The question’s body reads “I have always like Coca Cola, whenever I drink Coca Cola I feel happy. I drink about a box of Coca Cola per day. There isn’t much water in my area so most of my people where I live drink pops to quench our thirst. I wonder after all the Coca Cola I’ve drunk in my life if I’ve truly become Coca Cola. Sincerely your pal, Warren coca Cola.” Yahoo answers displays this question as having 5 answers.

the fourth question is in the ‘Other - Food & Drink’ category. The question title reads “What Gender Is A Hot Dog?” There is no question body. The ‘favorite answer’ highlighted by the question asker reads “Isn’t it obvious?” Yahoo answers displays this question as having 7 answers.

the fifth question is in the ‘Cooking & Recipes’ category. The question title reads “How to make 1 hotdog become 4 ?” The question’s body reads “Would cooking it for longer expand it ? or should i leave it outside to dry ? thanks”. Yahoo displays this question as having 4 answers.

the sixth question is in the ‘Vegetarian & Vegan’ category. The question title reads “Why don’t people eat their children if they die of natural causes?” There is no question body. The ‘favorite answer’ highlighted by the question asker reads “Because generally bereaved relatives are not amused if you dine on their dear departed”.

the seventh question is in the ‘Cooking & Recipes’ category. The question title reads “is baking soda edible?” The question’s body reads “i just ate 5 kilos of baking soda because i saw a tik tok about it and it looks fun so i did it and now i’m scared.” Yahoo displays this question as having 10 answers.

the eighth question is in the ‘Astronomy & Space’ category. The question title reads “Does the full moon effect you?” There is no question body. The ‘favorite answer’ highlighted by the question asker reads “Not anymore ,,,,,,,,, I used to be a Werewolf but i’m alright NAHOOWWWW !!!!!!”, Yahoo answers displays this question as having 22 answers.

the ninth question is in the ‘Polls & Surveys’ category. The question title reads “Do you have eggs in your fridge right now?” The question body reads “I have some but they went off on 23rd May.”

the tenth question is in the ‘Cats’ category. The question title reads “what race are these cats?” There is no question body, but there is an image attatched. It is an image of two cats- one who is in the center of the frame and the other who is only halfway in the image. They are sitting facing the camera. The one in the center is white and has a brown nose. The other one is gray with a white chest, face, and paws. This cat also has green eyes. They are sitting in a carpeted room in front of a white wall. There is some sort of black metal structure propped up against what appears to be a window with a wooden shade over it. Yahoo answers displays this question as having 10 answers.

the eleventh question is in the ‘Fish’ category. The question title reads “i just got bit by a bat in a cave. do i have rabies?” Rabies is misspelled as “rabbies.” There is no question body. The ‘favorite answer’ highlighted by the question asker reads “Yes, you have rabies. And you’re a vampire now too.” Yahoo answers displays this question as having 4 answers.

the twelfth question is in the ‘Dogs’ category. The question title reads “Are dogs basically just land dolphins?” There is no question body. Yahoo answers displays this question as having 8 answers.

the thirteenth question is in the ‘Cats’ category. The question title reads “How many cats is too many cats for one man to own?” There is no question body. Yahoo answers displays this question as having 8 answers.

the fourteenth question is in the ‘Fashion & Accessories’ category. The question title reads “What kinds of clothes do you like wear for summers?” There is no question body. The ‘favorite answer’ highlighted by the question asker reads “ones where youre not too hot in them”. Yahoo answers displays this question as having 4 answers.

the fifteenth question is also in the ‘Fashion & Accessories’ category. The question title reads “Poll: What is something that did not meet your expectations?” There is no question body. The ‘favorite answer’ highlighted by the question asker reads “trying pepperoni for the first time. I was like..that’s it???” Yahoo answers displays this question as having 9 answers.

the sixteenth question is in the ‘Dogs’ category. The question title reads “Why are people so man to female dogs and refer to them as ‘Bitches’ why can’t you call them ‘Mrs Doggy’ ????? ?” There is no question body.  Yahoo answers displays this question as having 9 answers.

the seventeenth question is asked by yahoo answers user ‘global’ in the ‘reptiles’ section of the ‘Pets’ category. The question title reads What do you do if you see an alligator?” there is no question body. Yahoo answers displays this question as having 7 answers. One of these answers is included in the screenshot. It is given by yahoo answers user ‘Cool’ and reads “take it out on a date if its a cutie”.

the eighteenth question is asked by an anonymous yahoo answers user in the ‘Other- Beauty & Style’ section of the ‘Beauty & Style’ category. The question title reads “How do my hands look? ?” The question’s body reads “Just a simple question :)”. There is an image of a hand attached. The hand has pale skin and is on top of what appears to be brown tiles in a bathroom. Part of the sleeve of a gray sweater is seen. Yahoo answers displays this question as having 19 answers. One of these answers is included in the screenshot. It is given by yahoo answers user ‘Tony’ and reads “very very clean hands. I see you pay attention to detail on your nails which by the way those are some beautiful nail. Looks good to me.” end ID]

[thedistrictsleepsalonetonight]

Better with you

This is the way of things:  

Riley falls in love with Harper. Harper breaks her heart. Harper falls in love with Abby. Harper marries Abby. Abby has a friend. Riley falls in love.

In retrospect it both annoys and amazes her how Harper conditions so much of her life. If she imagined her life in the form of roads as complex, as confused and as diverging as the lines on her palm, there are probably multiple signboards that have Harper’s face on them, with some strange quote written beside them along the lines of “Hey! Been a while since you thought of me, the girl who ruined most of your life hasn’t it?”.  

Riley hates it.

Okay, so in all honesty, she hates it until she crashes into Maya.

*****

Here’s the thing about Riley: She’s stupid around the people she loves.

How else does one explain all her major life decisions? She stays quiet when Austin Thomas spray-paints “Dike” all over her locker (even through the shaking, and the trembling and the huddling in a bathroom cubicle in the morning, what has her more concerned is what it’s probably doing to Harper. Well, that, and the fact that dyke is hilariously misspelled). She watches Harper from across the corridor, biting her lip, holding onto her left arm with her right hand, and hates that she still wants her so badly that she can’t breathe. She hates herself for loving Harper, hates her heart for betraying her in this very fundamental way, hates it for not being able to think rationally enough.

(The thought makes her laugh. What brand of love was ever rational?)

Even after she’s adequately moved on, has fallen in love a second time, the third, the fourth, she can never really bring herself to do that. The thought of Harper will evoke all forms of insufferable feelings ranging from sorrow to nostalgia. Not fury, though. Never fury.

She walks out of high school with excellent grades, graduates med school top of her class, gets into the one of the best residency programs in her state, all in a misguided attempt to compensate for this huge cosmic failing she’s somehow been saddled with. If life handed out academic report cards, chits of paper with affirmations engraved on them, then the ones she would give her parents would read Your child is doing great; She’s sorry she’s gay. Your child is trying her very best. A tiny PS at the bottom right corner would say – Love her. Please.

And she comes back, every year, to those stupid White Elephant parties, combats side-glances with polite smiles, off-hand comments about how her peers are heterosexually married to their heterosexual partners with grimaces. Brevity helps, and so does a glass of wine on her at all times.

And then Harper brings Abby, one Christmas.

*****

She’s not going to deny that she has a little bit of a crush on Abby.

Come on. It’s Abby. She’s a lesbian dreamboat with some serious hair-game and the gayest sense of dressing she’s ever seen on anyone. How is a girl supposed to not like that earnest smile and deep, soulful eyes?

(But Abby’s earnest smile unfurls like a ribbon when it falls on Harper, and her eyes tell stories that seem to end at Harper, and Riley knows that in some rudimentary way, Abby has always, and will be always belong to her girlfriend.)

“Dude, we have to stay in touch,” Abby says, the morning after the party, when they run into each other. “I’m gonna need support at the White Christmas party next year. So, I don’t accidentally use the wrong fork and then embarrass myself.”

She laughs, enters her number into Abby’s phone. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to text all the time, because, well — hospital hours. But I will try.”

Harper, standing beside Abby, shoots her a tiny, strained smile. Things will never be great between them; there’s too much spilled blood, and angry tears that lie in this chasm, but this is maybe a tiny start to bring matters back to the way they were when it all started. Polite. Nice.  

Abby texts her — “I can’t believe I survived the Caldwells” five days later, and Riley has no idea at the time, but good things are on their way.

*****

“Please, please, please, please, pleeeeease,” Abby begs her over the phone. Riley is pretty sure she’s actually holding her hand out in supplication.

“Can’t you just give her flowers and chocolate like a normal person?”

A dog barks on the other end, and Riley imagines her walking dogs on the streets. “But I know this is something she really, really wants!”

“An obsolete book that’s only found in a bookstore in New York?”

“Yes!” Abby replies. “Wait, hang on. John, tell her how important it is.”

Some muffled noises, then John’s clear, deadpan voice is audible. “Hey Riley,” he says, sounding disinterested as always, “How are — wait, lemme at least ask her how she’s been, how life in New York has been, if there are any cute guys in her hospital—”

Riley stifles a laugh.

“—yeah, yeah, okay. Fine. Riley, this woman really wants it, God knows why. So I’ll be in New York this weekend. I’ll come with you to that store and then bring that book back.”

“So why do I have to come?”

“Because,” Abby sighs, like it should be obvious, “I don’t trust John.”

Weekend. Sleeping in. Riley closes her eyes, whispers a Rest in peace to a previously perfect weekend.  

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

*****

The woman nearly scares her out of her wits.

She’s split up with a still-woozy-from-his-flight John as he’s set off to find the book, and thumbing through the random paperbacks on the Fiction shelf, when a voice interrupts her musing.

“I wouldn’t recommend that one,” Riley hears, and whirls around, wide-eyed.

A woman steps out of the dark corner, hands held up as if in warning, an apologetic smile on her face. “I’m sorry,” she says, awkwardly, “that I — I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Riley shakes her head, waves a hand to tell her it’s alright. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Pretentious. Definitely sat with a thesaurus. Too many men.”

The tiny detective that sits at the back of head, the one that registers women, and says “It’s elementary, Watson” every time it sees behavior that might be not-heterosexual, goes off with a ding.

“Too many men is a problem,” she admits, wryly, broadcasting her own message in case there was a willing audience. I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay. “What would you suggest?”

The woman steps into the light, slow enough so Riley knows she’s going to enter her personal space. She picks out a book from the top shelf easily, holds it out in front of her.

This close, Riley can’t help but stare. She’s taller, with dark hair that falls just past her shoulders. She’s wearing thick glasses, and behind that, her eyes are tiny and smiling. Riley smiles back, a little awkwardly. Looks at the book, then laughs.

“Sorry,” the woman chuckles, pointing to the copy of Midnight Sun that she’s just handed over, “Little joke.”

They’re still smiling at each other, when John ruins it all by exclaiming “Maya!” from behind her. And that’s when Riley discovers how easy it is to manufacture meet-cutes. And that she really, really hates Abby Holland.

*****

“How dare you?”

Abby sighs on the other end. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

John, who is currently scarfing down a hotdog, mumbles his apologies into the speaker.  

“I tried.”

“You didn’t even try,” Abby retorts. “What was the one thing I told you? Don’t let her on to the fact that you know Maya. And what did you do?”

“My best.”

Riley snatches it from him. “Don’t you think it’s a little weird of you to be setting up your girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend with your friend?”

(Just saying the whole thing aloud makes her head hurt)

“Harper doesn’t mind,” Harper’s reserved yet slightly amused voice comes, a little muffled. “Because Harper thinks it’s hilarious.”

There had been three rules, three rules that she had laid out for Abby at the very beginning, when their friendship was still in its tentative stages. One, no weird conversations about Harper. Two, no weird medical questions about fingers. And three, no setting Riley up on blind dates.

Riley had dodged Abby’s attempts to break rule number three about five times already.

(Who knew one could have so many single, willing and Sapphic friends in New York city? Part of Riley was annoyed; the other part was impressed)

“It’s not going to happen, you hear me?” she enunciates. “Absolutely not.”

*****

Riley doesn’t know why she’s back at the bookstore.

Well, she does. Officially, that is. As she had told John already, she hated the idea of things being so awkward, and that Maya must’ve felt that she was rude for clamming up after the whole story came to light, and that she definitely ought to go clear things up with her, let her know very politely that it wasn’t in the cards. John had uh-huh-ed and mm-hmm-ed and nodded until she got annoyed at herself for overexplaining. It was simply a courtesy call, that’s all. Nothing more, nothing else.

(If part of the reason she wants to go back is because, after a long, long time, she went to sleep with someone’s face in the back of her mind that night, kept replaying that certain someone’s voice over and over, it is none of John’s business. Or Abby’s, for that matter.)

It was crazy. Crazy. They’d had one conversation, and part of it had been after Riley had found out she was supposed to be set up, and thus had been filled with Maya trying to ease things over. There was no reason she needed to be thinking this much about someone.

(Not that she was. Thinking that much. About a woman. Just a regular amount)

“So wait, let me get this straight,” Maya looks right at her, “You came all this way to tell me that you don’t want to go on a date with me?”

Well now Riley just feels stupid. “Yes.”

Maya tilts her head a little. “Okay,” she says, “Just out of curiosity, what’s your problem with being set up with people?”

Oh, this she can answer. “One, the general awkwardness with your friends if it doesn’t work out,” she ticks off on her fingers. “Two, too much pressure to make it work. Three, I’m not—”

“—yes?”

Lovable. Bearable. Worth it.

“—looking to date?”

“What qualifies as a date to you, though?”

“A meal shared with romantic intent. Holding doors open, pulling chairs out. You know, the drill.”

Maya seems to be mulling it over. “Alright,” she says, nodding slowly. “What if.... what if two people were to spend time together with no food, no holding doors open or pulling chairs out? Technically that wouldn’t be a date, would it?”

Riley has to bite at the inside of her cheek to smother the smile that’s threatening to set up home on her lips.

“No,” she replies, “It wouldn’t.”

*****

This is what not-dating Maya is like.

It’s tired half-hour phone conversations at odd hours of the day. Riley doesn’t have a lot of time free, but she doesn’t go to sleep without talking to her at least once. She falls asleep to Maya nerding out about the books she’s read, about how she wants to own a gay café, about how she saw the ugliest shirt on a discount store window, bought it, and couldn’t wait to put it on. Wakes up to texts that read “Okay I know you fell asleep but I can’t, so I’m just gonna rant about random shit you can read about when you’re up, okay?” followed by some inane discussion on whether her pillow would be a salad or a sandwich if it could be eaten. It’s stumbling on the streets, half-carrying a drunk Maya as she navigates the confusing maze of New York avenues, and insists on having pizza wherever she goes. It’s bright smiles shot across coffee shops, tired rants before bed. It’s easy.  

It’s so easy that Riley has no idea what to do.

“Can you keep a secret?” she asks John on the phone, right before she tells him what’s been happening the past month.

To his credit, he listens to the whole thing before he says something monumentally stupid.

“A whole month and you haven’t had sex? I thought you had game.”

“Oh, fuck off. It’s not like that.”

“You don’t want to have sex with her?”

She’s blushing. “I — I do,” she says, feeling hot all over at the very thought. “I just — it’s not — not what’s important.”

“No, I mean, seriously” he says. “What do you guys even do? Stare at each other’s faces all day?”

“I wish I could stare at her face all day,” she says, before she’s even thinking about it. “Her face is all.... nice. Pretty. Oh God.”

“Oh God is right, darling,” he sounds amused. “You got it bad.”

“I do not — got it bad.”

“You do.”

“I do not — ugh fine.”

“Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that you do got it,” he proposes. “What are you going to do about it?”

Riley takes a deep breath, lets it out. She has no answer to that.

*****

The next day, Maya says, sheepishly — “I guess you finally told Abby, huh?”

“Wait, what?” she’s confused. “Told her what?”

Maya blinks, awkwardly, waves a hand between them. Realization dawns.

“I told John!” Riley tells her, furiously. “That asshole must have told her.”

Maya shrugs a shrug that seems to convey how stupid it was to trust John with keeping secrets from Abby of all people.

“But also,” Riley frowns, “I thought you must have told her already.”

“Nah, I hadn’t.”

“Why not?”

Maya shrugs again, hands in her pockets. “I didn’t know if you wanted her to know.”

And see, it’s this consideration that leaves her lacking for words. Maya is effortlessly considerate, to the point where she wouldn’t say something even if it was bothering her. She’s constantly putting Riley’s needs in front of her own, constantly worried about how she feels and Riley is just. She’s just—

(The word grateful, smitten pops into her head. Refuses to exit)

“You’re nice,” she says, because other adjectives would be too revealing. You’re amazing. You’re beautiful. You’re probably the light of my life.

“I’m only nice to you, Riley,” Maya admits, very frankly. Riley kind of wants to ask her why that is. She’s kind of scared to ask her why that is.

*****

“Just ask her out, already, jeez.”

“I — I can’t,” she tells Abby, sitting at the park, phone in her hand.  

“You like her,” Abby states. “She likes you. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“She likes me?” Riley asks, knowing that she’s probably giving away all her hope in her voice.  

(Okay, in some weird, convoluted way, she knows Maya likes her already. She’s not completely useless, contrary to popular lesbian stereotype. Just an—

“-Idiot,” she hears, a deadpan chastisement that she rolls her eyes at, “What are you even waiting for?”

“I — I’m not — I don’t know, okay? I’m not—”

The ghosts of her ex-girlfriends in the background, go — Good at being emotionally available. Good at being committed. Good at loving people. Good.

Abby stays quiet.

“I don’t think I can make her happy,” Riley says, finally.

There’s the sound of a sigh on the other end. “What if you already do?”  

*****

“Again,” she says, as she’s walking backwards, “I am so, so sorry.”

Maya, who has been waiting for her to get done with her surgeries since two hours now, and will probably have to wait another couple of them, waves her phone in the air, laughs. “I’ll read a book until you get back, okay? Go do your thing.”

She’s on an ob-gyn rotation, but thankfully, the delivery goes smoothly. And a good thing it is, because her head is all over the place. Two warring factions are on a rampage — one that’s raring to go tell the girl of Riley’s dreams that she is, in fact, that girl of Riley’s dreams, and the other equally strong battalion that is standing there with flags raised, flags that read – But what if it goes wrong?  

Here’s the second thing about Riley: Love barely ever goes right around her.

Oh, she’s dated people before. Loved them, adored them. And yet, things always start falling apart after a while, start shattering into pieces. Honestly, she doesn’t even blame them. Who wants someone who barely has time to talk for an hour because she’s almost always busy, who is ridiculously tired most days, and barely has the time or energy to grow a relationship?  

(So it will happen when it happens, but also, when it happens, Riley has a tendency of scrambling for cover)

She walks into the main hall with the paperwork, and stands at the nurses’ station, lets out a deep breath.

“Your girl tuckered out an hour ago,” Shaqueel tells her, leaning against the table, casually interested. She can see the rest of the nurses leaning in for better quality audio.

“Not my girl,” she tells him, fighting to keep a straight face.

“Really?” Julie asks, face resting on her elbow, an expression Riley can only describe as sappy on her face. “Because she would like to be, that’s for sure.”

Riley turns to Danny. “I told you to make sure none of these,” she waves a hand towards all of them, “busybodies talk to her!”

He shrugs. “What can I say? They were determined.”

“Useless,” she says, already walking away. There’s so much damage control to be done.

Danny texts her a “She’s a keeper”, as she’s walking, and even though she’s mad at all of them, part of her is inclined to agree.

*****

Maya is sleeping.

Riley knows the tone in which she’s thinking this is certainly not the one two strictly platonic buddies would take while referring to each other and yet the tenderness seeps in, anyways. She looks at the hair falling over her askew glasses and wants to brush it off; looks at her dozing with her mouth open and the sight is such a perfect mixture to utterly absurd and adorable that she wants to wake up to it in the morning. Every day.

She takes a deep breath, presses at all of her wants and urges until they’re packed, once again, in the already filled box related to all things Maya in her head. Kneels so she’s almost at her level, and gently taps Maya on the shoulder.

(Waking up comes as beautifully to Maya as do all things, and Riley is most definitely an idiot in love)

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she says, softly, her eyes still squinty from the last remnants of her nap.

“Don’t apologize,” Riley replies, equally as soft. “I fall asleep all the time on the phone.”

“Eh, you save babies. It’s alright.”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long.”

“Riley,” Maya tells her, very seriously. “I would wait a lot longer for you.”

(And because being stupid is a fundamental quality of Riley being in love, there’s absolutely no way she isn’t swooning at that, inside)

She’s sleepy and tired and stupid right now, so it’s probably coloring her judgement, but she’s done caring. Riley Johnson is not letting this one get away.

“Would you,” she starts, slowly, “consider waiting two more days so you can take me out to a fancy restaurant on Saturday?”

There’s a light in Maya’s eyes that she can only classify as hope. “Depends. Would you open the door for me and pull my chair out?”

Riley’s smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. “Absolutely.”

“Well, then,” Maya says, leaning in, “It’s about fucking time.”

[naptoons]

The Weekend — Nick Mara

Warnings: mature language, sexual content

Theme: Smut

Summary: you and nick have a friends with benefits type of relationship, but things become awkward between one another when you started to adapt feelings for him.

A/N: I apologize in advance if it’s cringe or boring. And if I have misspelled words. This is my first time writing an imagine and writing a smut. So yeah I’m sorry lol I’ll get better eventually.

Your phone buzzes with spam texts,not wanting to deal with it you ignore it continuing to watch your favorite show. Couple of seconds later it begins to buzz louder turning around you see nick is now calling you with a deep sigh you answer. “Yeah?” You speak softly to avoid the cracks in your voice.

“What’s up ma, I’m in town” his velvet voice echos through the phone

“Hm so you can leave again”

“Nah not tonight mamas, I’m not going to leave you alone”

You can’t help but smile at that nickname, but the smile disappears once you settle in your mind ‘it’s just a pet name for sex’ “yeah and what you plan on doing then?” You tease him but you’re also curious.

His chuckle halos your eyes, making your smile bigger than it previously was “ Gonna love you 'til we see the morning light” his voice is seductive and smooth. Like a jazz singer or a radio host.

Biting your lower lip, you lay back on your bed eyes up to the celling. Thinking if you should tell him the truth. You went out, but you want to be more then friends. And it’s clearly ambiguous that he just wants to be strictly friends with benefits. “You falling in love with me over there babygirl?” His voice follows by a chuckle “I’m outside” the call drops sighing you prop yourself up waltzing to the front door in a timely manner. Unlocking the silver accessories on the door there he was standing in shredded dark wash jeans with a clementine hoodie on, the rain Soaked his chestnut hair as it drilled down his semi-golden skin.

“May I come in?” His fangs peak through his silky lips, You step aside letting him in as he wipes his shoes off on the mat in front of your apartment. Stepping in he takes off his shoes leaving them at the front door. Locking the door behind him. The nerves start to bubble up in your throat unable to say anything you walk to the kitchen. Throughout this whole time nicks eyes have never left you. Maybe he was the one actually falling in love.

“You okay ma’s?” His voice breaks the fairly awkward silence, piercing your head up his body was leaned against the counter inked forearms exposed to the air. “You seem a bit trapped in your mind”

“Oh I’m fine, just a lot I’m thinking about” you hiccup, nick knows you inside and out no punt intended. So those hiccups he knows you’re nervous about something. Stepping in front of you he puts the coffee down that you’ve prepared for the both of you. “not in the mood for coffee? I just thought you would like some because you were stuck in the rain and you may get a cold so I figured I-” stopping you right in your tracks nick presses his lips against yours passionately but delicately. He’s never seen a mouth that he would killed to kiss. He’s dated and loved but you. You were something different and he couldn’t figure out what it was.

A simple kiss escalated into something more your hairs standing on ends saluting him, your earlobe heating up possibly turning hues of red, nicks fingers taps on your thighs and without hesitation you jump and he catches you instantly. His veiny hands latching underneath your thighs with his neck attached to your burning flesh. Little whimpers escaping your mouth as your fingers run through his hair. Nick nibbles on the tender spot of your neck ultimately getting the noise he wanted. Followed by a smirk against your skin.

Walking towards your bedroom he closes the door with his foot, then gently lays you on the bed. Instantly your mind goes to pleasing him first. Majority of the time you go first. Why? Cause you put his needs before yours. And because he’s in a rush so you coin toss first. Reaching over to his belt buckle you latch two fingers on it. Nick hold your wrist with one hand and gently the other rests on your neck. Looking up at him through your hooded eyelashes you meet his gaze that isn’t painted with lust, more or less love.

“I’m going to take good care of you, don’t rush mamas, I ain’t going nowhere tonight” his hands push you down softly by your throat his lips taking vacant of where his hands used to be. His lips touching every part of your burning flesh causing a series of goosebumps. It was like hell freezing over. His tongue grazing over your tender perked nipples. Arising a moan to escape between your lower lips that are held tightly between your teeth.

His lips makes their way to your inner thighs as the pool between your legs overflows, so sweet and sensual. This was a side of nick you never thought you’d grasp. His fingers latching on your shorts pulling them down along with your underwear’s. Spreading your legs out hearing the wet sounds of your sensitive bud. Looking directly into your eyes he hovers over your body connecting his lips to yours one last time mumbling softly “you’re so beautiful mamas” your cheeks turning hues of burgundy, earning a chuckle from him.

“Be vocal with me sweetheart, no holding back” he growls pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, before you could process your answer to him his tongue laps up your slit already causing your legs to tremble. Nick places them on his shoulders softly digging his fingertips into your thighs, while yours grab purchase of the sheets. Delving hid tongue in you. Moans of euphoria falling flat from your mouth. “Look at me” nick growls blowing hot air on your sensitive bud. With your lips between your teeth your gaze locks with his as he sinks back between your legs giving you deep intimacy.

His tongue buried on your bundle of joy lapping up your juices with every flick of your swollen clit. His lips kissed over your clit, sucking it delicately. This simple action causes your back to rise off the velvet sheets slurring his name out your mouth. pausing only to lick up the wetness you were dripping for him. His eyes flickered shut as he savors you melting in his mouth. your hands left his hair to grip the sheets he unraveled his own, reaching until your fingers entwined along with his.

His tongue poked out again, as you felt him slip inside of your lips softly. He tongue was pointed, softly moving circles as he tried to locate your sweet spot, and when you pressed your head further into the bed with a series of vulgar words and clenched underneath him, he knew he had spotted it, with that playful smirk creeping on your skin.

“Nick....” your sentence chokes up, he just knows your at your limit, but he wasn’t done admiring you. So he made your ankle touch your shoulders hoisting them with his fingers engraved on your calves, dipping his head back in his tongue flattened in between your lips, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your stomach knotting up while your body temperature rises. “Nick... I’m gonna come...”

“Hmm come babygirl, let me see you unravel underneath me” with one hand he spreads your folds apart inserting two fingers in pumping you as your juices fill up the room along with your jagged moans. “Look at me” he groans. Opening your eyes you look at his moon reflecting the ocean eyes. Your toes begin to curl as your legs vibrate feeling the colorless liquid gush out of you, as nick smiles at you in awe, sensitive to the touch from your high nick laps you up cleaning up the mess he’s made but not really regretting it.

“Nick...” you mumble almost feeling like you went to sub space. Dealing with nick he’s made you reach sub space on a daily. But today was a different kind of feeling.

“Fuck, you’re hot babygirl” Nick reassures you, unbuckling his pants and pulling them down your breathing is still unstable but the lust in your eyes are begging for more. Pulling you closer to him nick aligns his self with your entrance rubbing his shaft up and down your slit, flinching Everytime he comes close to your clit “you ready?” He asks softly nodding your head he goes into your drawer pulling out the gold medal bringing it up to his teeth as it rips sliding it onto himself he postions himself in between your legs slowly pushing through as your walls engulf him, instantly your eyes roll whole your fingers find purchase of the sheets.

Your legs resting upon his shoulder sinking his teeth softly into your skin as his hips buck against yours making the headboard bang against the wall. His strokes filling you up as they brush against your g-spot. His fingers softly pushing away your fly away hairs that stuck to your glistening face “You’re so beautiful mamas, i can’t believe you’re mine” his hip buck against yours hitting a new high for the both of you. Passionate love wasn’t something the both of you weren’t used to.

Nick stickers his lips on your neck filling the air with mixed groans and moans as the bed soaks in each other sweats, your fingertips digging into his back the deeper. Reaching your third limit this night you clench your walls against nick as your head sinks in the marshmallow pillows. “Let go princess..” he strangled, both of you reaching your highs together. Both of your eyes staring at each other’s intensely. Nick slowly eases out of your frame holding onto your waist. Running your hands through the sheets to cover yourself nick grabs your hand getting in the sheets with you.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You ask softly still trying to regain your breathe.

“Didn’t you remember me telling you I’m not leaving you alone tonight?”nick rasped, making goosebumps appear throughout your whole body. His fingertips drawing circles on your bare sweaty back. Your fingertips tracing his tattoo on his biceps. Holding back any other thoughts you hold your lower lip in between your lips.

“I meant what I said y/n” Nick finally answers your question

“What?” You act clueless, you wanted to hear it from him, not your conclusions.

“You’re mine babygirl, I’m not going anywhere ever again” nicks nose touches yours his eyes now open his eyelashes slightly hiding his chocolate eyes “I promise, I’m not going anywhere, we’re something more than this”

“No more weekends?” You smile

“More like everyday mamas,you’re too beautiful to not be mine” his fingers pushing your head into his chest. Smiling you kiss his chest softly. What a fantasy that came true.

[blankdblank]

Help Me Rich Pt 3

@deepestfirefun​ Final part. :D

..

The comment wasn’t brought up about your post concerning a possible triangle with the lovable duo and your comments didn’t do anything to slow them down either. Up to your room you went to collapse giggling to yourself groggily after removing your shoes on your surprise trip home. Finally you could restock on your best clothes and get ready for your big night off you had been aching for. Dinner with one teddy bear had been achieved and now another would be stolen by surprise. Barely two hours into a nap you painfully were torn from it was like you blinked and you were back in the airport.

Changed to jeans and a baggy hoodie with your face covered you slept the majority of the lengthy flight and squinted your way to watch the landing through your window brushing your hair and hood back. The frigid wind outside was like a slap to the face and shaking your head you caught the train back to the station a few blocks from your house and flashed grins and brief waves to your neighbors who greeted you along the way. Inside however you groaned and hurried up to take a shower gasping and squeaking through removing the bandages and tape on your arms then stepped into the warm water to get ready for your surprise.

Maroon lace dress with sleeves just past your elbows fit you snugly and matched perfectly with your knee high heeled boots and thigh high tights to help keep you warm. Over that you pulled on your favorite vintage styled double breasted jacket in a deep red you buttoned and tied the sash on once your makeup and braided ponytail was finished off. Through the cold you walked the short distance to the subway to get out at the right stop to join the others headed exactly where you were. Smirking to yourself under the white lights of the Harold Pinter Theater you flashed your ticket and headed inside snapping pictures as others did of the posters with cast names on them on the way in.

You hated going to plays alone and right in the third row you sat eyeing the curtains closing off view of the stage seated quietly until the elderly woman seated beside you let out a hushed gasp and drew a grin from you starting on about how she and her grandkids loved to watch your trilogy. Up to the warning signals you chatted and had even signed a halfway faded receipt from her purse then turned your attentions to the stage feeling your nerves spike as you watched the curtains open on Richard and his cast mates’ adaptation of Uncle Vanya. It wasn’t the first night, buried into the first show of his second week you had managed to make it out and hoped that even in red you wouldn’t stand out and distract him.

.

Thunderous applause flooded through the room and to the edge of the stage the cast walked with Richard in the center focused entirely on a single person when the lights cut on again. Instantly his face lit up at the moment he saw you and chuckled to himself at your subtle try for a wave. Back as soon as he could he hurried to his dressing room after passing on a message to an aid and switched on his phone he called you on nipping at his lip, “Come on, have it on silent.”

Grinning to yourself you pulled the phone from your pocket and answered the call, “Hey there Handsome. Didn’t I just see you?”

To himself he chuckled then said, “We’re getting supper, Love.” Directions were given and following them while on the line you grinned to the aids allowing you back through authorized only entrances into the back halls with the dressing rooms in them. Outside the telling door you teased, “Richie, how could you let them misspell your name like that?”

His chuckle once he hung up came in the opening of his door and directly off the ground you were raised in a tight hug, contently luring a hum out of the grump you cuddled with right back, “Can’t have everything, can I?” On your feet again he shook his head beaming down at you, “How did you manage out here? You must not have slept.”

You shook your head and stepped inside allowing him to change while you spoke in the again closed room. Straight to his armchair you went and sat down crossing your legs at his pulling off his outer jacket to his final suit. “Slept on the plane. Either way, you were fantastic. Well worth the brooding no doubt. Everyone loved it I hear and the woman next to me fanned herself in your shirtless scene.”

Lowly he chuckled replying, “That is beyond the point of that scene.”

“You know this is Guy all over again. Richie you could coat yourself in grime and brood all you like but you are still the most lovable grump around. I do love that scarf though, where did they get it?”

Turning back to you shirtless with his own shirt in hand he said, “I’ll keep it for you when the show ends.” Easing it on his eyes scanned over you and his grin bled out widely again in an adoring gaze, “Three years,” he rumbled, “How the hell has it been three years?”

“I don’t know. But it isn’t fair. I am enjoying seeing you strip again in person.”

Teasingly he slowly undid his belt he slid off making you giggle luring a chuckle from him snapping him from his game to hastily change his pants, socks and secure those before adding the sneakers you had helped him pick out last time you were together hiding his favorite red socks. “How long are you in town?”

“Two days.”

Pursing a moment his lips puckered and he nodded, “What coincidence, tomorrow is my day off.”

“Don’t you have to be silent or something?”

“No, that’s the day off before double shows.”

Stage door exit had you off to the side waiting while he greeted his fans and signed playbills for a short time then turned with hand outstretched for yours, though that wasn’t enough for him as his arm shifted to lay around your waist keeping you against his side to tide him over in waiting for another hug. Dinner at his place was lovely and comfortably shoeless with you both crashing in his bed post black and white film wine tasting lazily cuddling under the covers.

Soundly you slept then with a day of showing you a few new spots in town along with catching a flick he had wanted to see with you he drove you back to your place. Up to the door from the drive you walked and he paused grumbling at the call he received. “I have to get this.”

You smirked at him, “Won’t take long.” You giggled out in his tight hug and warm press of a kiss to your forehead, another show of love he had bottled up over the years after all the time you had spent cuddled up in filming together on those lazy days off set. Stepping inside again he smirked answering the call from another friend taking him to sit on the half wall bordering one side of your front steps ignoring the camera men parked a few houses down as well as the chilly breeze.

Out again comfy in jeans with a sweater and jacket over sensible wedges to manage the height difference you came with simpler makeup on. Locking your door and easing back under the arm of your adorably cuddle starved best friend for the walk back to his car. All day it was more of the same, not caring about anything but being together and soaking in every minute picking right back up where you left off. Stolen kisses on cheeks and tight hugs one after the other melting into giggles melded around the film. And his drive back to yours post mini market trip so he could crash with you to have the morning with you until he drove you to the airport at noon post brunch and claimed the tightest hug and firmest kiss on your cheek yet. Proudly stating your love for each other in a joint wave goodbye as you were off again leaving him instantly slumping back into his car.

A glance at your unclaimed seat after turning the key had his brows inching up at the cd case on the cushion there with a note on the cover, ‘Anti Grump Tunes.’ Smirking instantly he lifted the case and opened it pulling out the disk he popped into the cd drive to hear the first of the cheerful songs you always sang along to on the radio while together. Turning up the song he set the closed case aside and he shifted gears to start the drive back home again where he carried the disk to continue enjoying it there relaxing more until his nap to be well rested for the show.

 *

With brows furrowed Tom’s gaze eased over the nonsense story that had popped up post dinner out with you on how in the poly relationship you seemingly had been found cheating on the both of them while Richard was cheating on his own partner in return. Apparently in a long standing serious relationship with Richard Armitage, a good friend of his friends who had pointed him onto the story sharing how ridiculous it all was knowing about you and your bond for years now. Over the phone he texted Henry, who had just been called about it post flight by his younger brother that had seen it on tv. “According to Martin she and Richard, they got along famously filming Berlin Station and have always been best friends since then.”

Henry wet his lips and replied seeing the latest bit about it popping up from your former costars from Berlin Station Rhys, Michelle, Keke on their social pages that you were best friends and all hadn’t seen each other in years. “They have a lot of common friends. She did mention a Richard at dinner.”

Cuddling pictures with all of you together were posted. And flurries of their shows of support for the pair of you came with stories of how deeply you both rooted in your friendships bringing up stories from costars from older films and shows. Including Benedict and the cast of the Hobbit trilogy, most had worked with the both of you before on various projects giving them plenty to share.

Tom, “I am certain they are blowing things out of proportion. Good friends or not I doubt she would try for a match with a man older than I am.”

Henry flatly replied, “Comforting,” inching an ice pack higher on his thigh from his dip back into riding lessons. “So Kal and my age are in my favor.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “Don’t make me call your Mum and tell her you’re being moody again.”

Henry sighed and said, “I think I pulled my groin.” Tom bit his lip to keep from laughing, “Riding lessons are grueling.”

“Yes, I can remember a few nasty falls myself.”

“It was from climbing onto the saddle. Yesterday was sword training and I guess I skimped on stretching. Final horse of the day and just this burn, damn it’s so inconvenient. Back to swords tomorrow.”

“Well, at least you can tear your arms and give your groin a rest.”

“Ha, ha.”

Tom chuckled, “It all comes from love.”

“Ya, I can feel the love.”

 *

“Holy shit,” you muttered reading your email notices on the stories posted and just about in tears in the chair beside the window of your hotel room you dialed Richard sniffling after having confirmed this was a window he would be free and not sleeping or recovering.

Warmly in a welcoming gravely tone his voice rang through, “Hello Love. I have my orange for the day, do you?” Your next sniffle as your lip quivered had him straightening up and asking protectively, “What’s wrong?”

“Did I ruin everything?” you croaked out parting his lips.

Instant anger flooded through him clenching in his chest that he couldn’t hold you through this, “Does this have anything to do with that trash the news has been spouting? I love you, and I don’t care what they put out about us.”

“But, your Snuggle Buddy,” you sniffled again wiping your cheek at a tear falling, “Those pictures-,”

“Listen to me, I love you. I love you and I don’t care what they published. What pictures they angled just right to build a matchstick house off of. My Snuggle Buddy loves you, our relationship is not something they are threatened by. Often they all but hurl my phone at me to call you when I get low. They understand you are part of my heart and an integral part of how I keep myself steady in all of this nonsense. I am not leaving you, we are not over, I don’t care what they say we’re family so please stop crying. I know you’re tired. You’ve had three lengthy flights and long events to sit through, please don’t let them worry you. If anything my Snuggle Buddy actually loved your visit.”

“Oh really?” You asked with another sniffle wiping your other cheek trying to perk up again.

“I was super romantic, even broke out the candles and everything. Put on a tux,”

“Ooh, that voice and a tux I bet they were jello.”

“They certainly were.” Wetting his lips he looked out his window asking, “I bet you have an amazing view, don’t you?”

“Well there’s a sunset, or a sliver of one behind that building blocking it,” making him smirk, “Just another blip in an airport hotel, I have a connecting flight in two hours from my stop on a talk show.”

“Ooh, bet you look fancy.”

Wryly you chuckled replying, “I have mascara down my cheeks and blush streaks no doubt.”

“And no less beautiful for it,”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m gonna wash my face so I don’t terrify my delivery guy.”

Richard chuckled, “Keep me on speaker, I have an hour left till I have my own press stop. I don’t want to hang up yet. Not until you’ve at least eaten.” Quietly and contently he listened while you scrubbed your face clean and muttered curses to the makeup you struggled to remove for several minutes until you successful grumble on your way back to bed with phone in hand only to stop when your food arrived with a knock on the door. All through the meal however he listened to your questions on what Henry might have been intending with the fancy dinner he was planning when you crossed paths again and tried to ease your worries however he could.

 .

Your giggles mingled with the laughs of the panel on the talk show you were sitting for as the next question was pulled out of the bowl making you wet your lips anxiously readying to see what question you were answering next as it was your turn. “What is your latest regret?”

“Latest?”

You giggled out and the man eyed the card and nodded, “Yes, latest.”

With a nod you giggled again and settled your hand on the cushion beside your hip to lean a bit more off your thigh that was going numb from putting your weight on it for so long with your legs crossed awkwardly thanks to the stiff low couch. “Um, well only one thing goes to mind. I said some very, very hurtful and undeserved things about Henry Cavill.”

That had lips parting and another of the hosts asked, “You had a bad fight?”

And you giggled again, “No, see, in the States we live in the same building, and he lives above me. So every time he wakes up for a workout he wakes me up,” stirring up chuckles from the audience, “And well, I’m not really the most civil minded being woken up a bit after midnight to go and workout. So I’m not always kind to my adorably oblivious and equally as irritated neighbor. Tom’s workouts are later in the morning and always remind me to wake up again for breakfast.”

The first host chuckled asking, “Tom doesn’t wake up with you?”

“Well he lives next door. There’s some rooms in the way keeping him off Henry’s schedule.”

The other host inhaled then said, “That post you made, about spending the holidays being under Henry and next to Tom then, it’s because you’re neighbors?”

You nodded and giggled saying, “As much as the alternative would be lovely for anyone,” laughs erupted again with whistles and claps in your voice dying to more giggles at the groan from the two other hosts who then began to try and argue that you were merely being coy and should be open with your poly love.

 *

Muttering curses to himself Henry sulked his way from his mail box to the lift again not having woken up to you in his arms as he’d dreamed after seeing your latest interview online. Surely welcoming in his mind to affections, not shutting down that he was ‘just friends’ with you or stating that neither of you wasn’t attracted or interested only worsening his urge to plan more for your dinner. A missed body on his left was brought to his attention at the box of cupcakes open and being offered to him. “Accept this and the Boleyn whore dies.”

The whispered comment had his head turning and lips parting to see you recognizing the reference to an old role of his. “So certain of yourself for a tiny assassin.”

Your head turned and in a poke to his leather clad middle in his reach for a cupcake you giggled out the question, “What are you wearing? Is this your new casual?”

“Ha ha. No.” he faced you fully saying with arms out by his sides, “I am the Witcher.”

Your jaw dropped, “No!” Your hand planted on his middle testing the material.

“Yes,” he grinned in replying, “Wanted to give the look a worn in feel to it. Had it two days and I’m mailing it back tomorrow.”

“Pick out your dress yet?”

“No,” he said with a deepening smirk, “Have to settle for a suit, sorry.”

“I suppose I can tolerate another suit on you.”

Smirking again he watched you step out wondering how you had in your near daily texts and emails sharing what you were up to for work now mingled with odd reminders throughout the day for him to drink water and have snacks always fluffing up his mood and melting him more. Always luring up an ache to be more than just friends but unwilling to dare mention his feelings for you over the phone. “If you like, we could have a practice run on that dinner. I could bring up lunch in a bit.”

His hand jut out to hold the door that was closing and you smirked turning to face him, “Don’t you mean down? You live above me.”

“You know what I mean.”

Playfully you asked, “Do you even know which apartment is mine?”

“Clearly it would be the one closest to how far I have to walk to be under mine.”

“Touche, give me a twirl and I’ll say yes.” Smirking at you he lowered his arm and turned in a circle.

“Satisfied?”

“Not as satisfied as you’ll be in taking that off again, Sugar Plum.” You said stepping back, “Take your time, got some things to hide.”

“What things?” he called back in the doors closing making him huff again then look down at the cupcake from you making him smack his lips, “The woman is going to make me tear my clothes.” Lifting the cupcake he tasted the icing on making him smirk again in a pleased hum and mutter as the doors opened again, “Worth it.”

.

A few weeks to Christmas and you were stuck in the States between recording voice over work and helping to go through an indy film script from a friend. To help work it out better that you would be given the lead role in once you handled the invisible elephant lurking around in the script you couldn’t quite locate yet to fix it to perfection. Beyond irritatingly you trudged through the garland and bows trying to not feel the sting that your family would be scattered across the globe for the holiday for the third year in a row. Thanksgiving was just two days away and even though you didn’t celebrate it back home the family centered day complete with nationally aired parade left a timid stance from you when passing your four seating table in the dining room. You would be eating alone on this day for family and couldn’t help but feel the pull to try and make something to honor the tradition that surely would ruin your work to keep in shape for a filming bout in early December.

Leaving the cupcakes on your counter you got to gathering up your laundry left folded across your couch and coffee table to take into your bedroom closet. A final check of the entertaining areas and with a sigh you sat down simply turning on your tv to distract yourself from the leather clad man upstairs. Lost to wondering if he was changing, showering, of course the latter was where your mind dipped to completely making you flinch at the doorbell sounding and pop up to your feet before you had noticed it. To the door you walked trying not to admit you had fallen for the man before even talking and that in your patting your cheeks to ensure hey weren’t warm that just thinking of his dimpled smile these days had you blushing like an idiot since that dinner together with Tom.

Opening the door however your brows inched up and Tom was standing there saying, “I heard you have cupcakes.”

“Oh,” your voice cracked out and you stepped back forcing out a grin trying to not let him in on the fact you had hoped you would be alone with Henry, “Ya, in the kitchen.”

Closing the door behind him you paused a moment resettling your pleased grin onto your face forcing down your dashed hopes relaxing that clearly you had been silently rejected and quite possibly Tom would be there the following night as well. Giggles and chuckles quickly broke out between you in the wait and revealed that you had brownies cooling on the stove you planned to share with him later brightening his smile. Another bell sounded and it seemed the air in the room shifted suddenly when Tom went rigid and blurted out, “Right, thank you for the cupcake and I look forward to sharing the brownies later.”

“Later?”

He nodded and turned to walk to the door curiously luring you along with him. Upon his opening it you caught Henry’s slightly awkward but relieved grin seeing his friend here with you as he had requested while he showered and changed, “Tom,”

With a pat on Henry’s side Tom stepped around him saying, “Just remembered I have a call I have to make about work. Could take hours, been pushing it off, but I will see you two for supper.”

Curiously in his hurried pace back to his own apartment you and Henry looked at each other and you said, “Want another cupcake?”

Lifting the bag of supplies in his hands he said, “Mind if I use your stove?”

You shook your head, “No,” stepping back to let him past you so you could close the door slightly confused at Tom’s leaving so fast at Henry’s arrival.

Wetting his lips he found the kitchen and started to unpack his bag, “I guessed it might be easier to cook down here than bringing the food down.”

“What are we cooking then?”

“Not we, me. You relax. I got you.” Shifting on his feet to turn to the stove and set the temperature for the chicken breasts. On the other side of the counter you talked about the series on the Witcher and how he had been chosen and training for months now.

“No wonder you’re so grumpy,” you teased making him smirk and steal a glance at you in setting the table.

“I brought some wine too, if you like, it’s rather sweet over smoky deeper reds I’ve tried.”

“Fair warning,” your words had him looking at you again sloppily trying to find the noodle he was holding up to test the cook on increasing your urge to burst out laughing while you subtly snapped a picture of the moment on your phone tucked mostly behind the counter after looking something up a few moments prior. “I don’t have wine glasses. I do have sort of round-ish looking glasses that could be wine glasses if they had stems, with sharks on them.”

His grin split out again and mid chew he said, “Should be fine.” Finishing off the noodle he pulled out another and lifted it with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, “Do they need a bit more?”

Closer you stepped and parted your lips at his clear intention of not handing over the fork. A quick blow on the noodle and you pulled it off the fork with your teeth and said, “It’s good. Don��t want it to cook too long or they’ll be ruined.”

“I’m glad we agree on that. My brother’s fiancé likes hers mushy.”

“Ugh,” you said walking to your cabinet to bring out the pair of glasses you had mentioned with a shark on each with the words ‘Fluent in Sharkasm’ in grey letters making him chuckle to himself. Filled plates came next and carried over to the table they were settled with you choosing to sit on his right instead of across the table, using the closeness to the counter as an excuse to not sit there. One pop later and the wine was opened spreading his smirk mid story on how his bother and his mushy noodle loving bride to be met.

Pouring the wine he chuckled out, “And he tried on horseback to propose, rode out to a picnic spot and they get down and he drops down only to hear a rush of liquid.”

“Oh no,”

He chuckled, “Oh yes, horses, both of them decided to relieve themselves right then.” You giggled and he chuckled again sitting down fighting to hold back his smile, “Sort of spoiled the mood. But they laughed about it, had the picnic, rode back home showered and had bowls of ice cream he set out the ring in her spoon.”

“So sweet. Choking hazard, but sweet.”

“Oh she has a thing about spoons, he put out the wrong shaped one for ice cream. Knew she wouldn’t use it.”

“I bet she was thrilled.”

“Oh ya, one of the better proposals from my brothers. Another one ended with the both of them being covered in paint.” You giggled again and he chuckled saying, “Long line of Cavill men flubbing through proposals. I ended up with cake in my lap.”

“I doubt that would have been a problem for long,” making him smirk, “Flub or not but you covered in cake is tempting enough to drive someone crazy figuring out which is sweeter.”

Setting the bottle down he shifted in his seat resting his hand on the back of your chair, “That’s dangerously close to a compliment out of jest,”

Leaning in your fingers gently tapped around his chin, “Who’s jesting. You never heard dimples are dips in mounds of sugar on legs.” A faint blush prickled up onto his cheeks and you asked, “Sugar p-,” His eyes however had dipped to your lips after your gaze dropping to his chin in a dry swallow.

The distance rapidly closed and a sure tender plant of his lips on yours closed your eyes. Tilting his head the one kiss blended into two and then three at the grazing of your fingertips along his jaw in response to his free hand cupping your cheek through a stolen peek at you. A few more tender pecks was all he could claim until a growl of his stomach left you giggling against his now frozen lips. Huffing in his pull back you giggled again smirking at him in his now bashful inspection of your reaction. “You should feed that before it goes on a rampage.”

“Funny.” In another glance over your face he said, “I should have asked first,”

When his gaze drooped to his lap you shifted onto your feet snapping his attention back to you in time to close his eyes for the plant of your lips on his. A more passionate locking of lips brought his hands blindly, one to ease your right leg closer to the chair between his legs in case you needed support with the other to settle around your hip marking a silent plea for you to lower if you wanted to sit on his leg. At your lips leaving his he panted for air and you said, “If you want permission, you have it.”

Again your lips landed on his in a firm but brief kiss luring his hand to cup your cheek, leaning in at your pull back to claim another momentary kiss followed by one from you on his nose. “Food,” you giggled out at the next growl of his stomach and turned your head to kiss his wrist drawing a chuckle from him at the retraction of his hands as you sat again.

Slicing your first piece from your chicken you said, “You left off at you covered in cake?” In your gaze up at him a blush prickled across his cheeks and his dimples deepened in a smirk sent your way. Back to joking through dinner you went with his long leg shifted to press against yours for a continuance of contact between glances at the show playing in the background spurring up more stories of travels you once had triggered by the hotel reality show based in Australia.

Once the plates were emptied he helped you in carrying everything to the sink. Grinning to himself in aiding in rinsing the dishes you added to the dish washer that was closed with an adorable kick of your foot. A rinse of the skillet you brought over ended with him drying his hands on the towel hanging on the hook dangling from the cabinet above the sink.

Over your shoulder as you stole a glance at the table ensuring you had gotten everything he leaned stealing a kiss on your cheek. Turning your head in the breaking of your reach to turn off the faucet his lips found yours again. Against the counter you leaned stretching up to aid in the distance with hands easing over his shoulders while his molded around your hips. A sudden lift had you on the edge of the sink and arms circling his neck in a mingled set of sighs from the increasingly passionate kiss. Planting your feet on the cabinet under you to try and anchor yourself from the slide into the sink coming from his wide self trying to ease closer to you.

Against his lips you muttered, “I’m getting wet.”

Firmly his lips had planted on yours again and in a hum from the click of what you had said, and more importantly why you had said it had one hand from him cupping your bottom. Right on the mild wet spot from the rebounded splatter off the skillet to lift you and turn blindly shutting off the faucet on his way taking you to the couch. Muffled giggles from you came in the tightening of your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, the latter then loosened when he sat down. Barely a few minutes was all you got in the tightening hold of his arms bringing you closer to his chest not for any reason but to memorize the details of being tangled in an embrace with you only for a buzz from his pocket to make you giggle again in his grumble. Sliding off his lap to sit curling your legs up beside him as he pulled out his phone.

A work call left you watching the show and in stretching out on your side, his gaze turned your way with a smirk at your legs spreading across his lap. Through the call his free hand lowered to smooth across your legs tracing shapes and words into your skin during his wait to kiss you again.

Turning his head he eyed a blanket and in hanging up he brought the blanket over, sliding you down more on the couch to ease out behind you laying his arm out under your head to hold you in a nap you’d been drifting off to propping his head up on the pillow you had been using. The stirring grumble from you had him pressing a kiss you your cheek humming back to you, “Nap time. You’ve had a long flight. If you want I can go?”

“Mmm,” you grumbled back pulling his arm over your side tighter around you spreading his grin as he lowered to cuddle closer behind you. At the quiet from next door Tom checked your front door. And finding it unlocked he eased it open to creep inside only to grin spotting the two of you in your nap on the couch he snapped a picture of then crept his way out locking the lower lock on his way out to wait for later when you would share dinner as a trio again.

.

A heavy sigh had your eyes opening to find a nose inching into your view. Behind you Kal had sprawled out and was wagging his tail seeing that you were waking up. “Hey handsome,” you said reaching up to stroke his cheek.

“Good nap?” Tom asked leaning over the back of the couch grinning at you as he watched you sitting up.

“Yup,” shifting your legs out from under the blanket on your lap freeing Kal to wiggle across your lap on his back for belly rubs making you giggle and oblige.

Glancing to your kitchen you watched Tom head back to helping Henry with dinner, the latter saying, “You just relax, we got dinner.”

When Kal lost interest hearing something hitting the floor he hurried to the kitchen to inspect what type of scraps it was freeing you to your feet to start setting the table. Curiously looking over the pair you asked, “What are you guys doing for Thanksgiving?”

Tom smirked saying, “Well, I have settled to watching the dog show again. Got close to naming the top five myself. The poodles always throw me off though.”

To yourself you giggled and looked to Henry as he said, “Just going to watch some Bruce Lee films my brother gave me last year.”

“Ooh,” you said gathering the glasses you took to the table making Tom smirk glancing between you seeing that Henry was watching your back.

Tom wet his lips and asked, “What about you? Big plans?”

Turning your head you said, “Bought a ham, and all the spreads. Seems nice, having a day meant for cooking. So if you get hungry, I’ll have food.”

Tom smirked patting Henry on the back, “We would love to join you.”

Through dinner the plans were set and you shared the time set for cooking. By the time the meal was cleaned up their plans for calling home were shared and you hugged the pair good night, lingering just a moment longer in Henry’s kiss on your cheek and hushed mention of seeing you for your usual shared gym trip.

The door closed and nipping at your lip you sighed and turned for your coffee table to get your phone to take to bed with you. Laid out on your belly you tucked a pillow under your cheek finding Richard’s contact and sent him a message. “Hey Richie Rich. Nearly off to bed before the gym, fun day?”

Just about you could hear his low hum of a reply, “It was amusing, had a bit of a battle with a new bookshelf. Tried to bite my finger.”

At that you giggled and said, “No doubt it behaved after you smashed it with your hammer.”

“Definitely worked it into submission. How’s Henry?”

“Had a practice dinner of a lunch.”

“Ooh, that sounds cozy. Please tell me that dinner is a date.”

“Dress fancy, though he couldn’t find one in his size it seems, had to settle for a suit again.”

Richard chuckled and called you making your head dip a moment in a giggle and answer for him to say in a teasing hum, “How’d the lunch go? Well I hope, I know your weakness for dimples.”

“So hard not to just stare at him dumbly. Sugar on legs. He cooked, we talked, he kissed me,”

“Did he? Good. About time.”

At that you giggled and said, “Then he apologized for not asking first, so I kissed him again and gave him permission.” Making him chuckle. “Cleaned up, kissed, cuddled on the couch in a nap.”

“Looks good for your dinner so far. Sounds like you’ve picked a great boyfriend.”

“No title yet, just cuddling so far.”

“Oh it’s more than cuddling, I assure you. Just check his account, he posted a picture of you and his dog saying you were resting up for the big dog show and a Bruce Lee marathon on Thursday. You made plans for Thanksgiving.”

“Tom’s coming too.”

“And he can watch your little family blossom on your first holiday. How’s your dad taking it?”

“Um, haven’t really talked about it, game week, he’s busy getting the guys ready. But I hear Henry’s got tickets to the next game, guess I can bring it up, not sure if I should subject him to the whole meet the family just yet.”

Lowly he chuckled, “Why? If you’re in town no doubt he’ll have you meet his too. No doubt he’s told them about you. How could he not?” He paused for your confused sigh and he said, “Just give it a few days, I bet he’ll be bringing up that he’s got tickets to the game.”

“Possibly.” You sighed out and he chuckled, “I should let you get ready. Double show, right?”

“Yes, I love you, and so does he, your family will love him too.”

That made you giggle and reply, “Love you, Talk to you later Richie Rich.”

“Bye bye.”

He hung up and you sighed rolling over on your bed to plug in your phone only to see your oldest brother sending you a screen cap of the picture of you and Kal napping. Below the image a simple message, “Hear he likes the Reds.”

Rolling your eyes you answered, “He does.”

Only to read, “Good, dad’s expecting you to dinner, all of us coming, even Luke, Hill and Todd are coming after their own matches. Sleep tight sis and enjoy your cooking.”

Grumbling through a rub of your face you turned over after wishing him a good night burying your head under a pillow to try and sleep. It wasn’t long until you woke grumbling to an alarm sounding above your head and you sighed rolling out of bed to change for the gym. Locking your door behind you from the opening lift you heard Henry asking, “Just what have you been muttering up at me this time I wonder?”

Smirking at him you walked to join him replying, “That’s between me and my pillows.”

Shifting his arm he eased it around your back leaning in to kiss your cheek, “Sleep well?”

“Nice mini nap. Got a couple messages from home.”

“Same here, brothers called asking about my trip home next week.”

“Right, you’re off across the pond again.”

Anxiously wetting his lips he asked, “When are you heading back?”

“First two weeks of December, final bout to finish it off for the year.”

“Well that’s good, we don’t live far from one another, I don’t think.”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to reach you, I don’t mind the tunnels.”

“I’d drive to you.”

“What if its hours?” you teased and he smirked at you.

“Then I’ll drive hours. Or move, if I get tired of the drive.” Making you roll your eyes, “Not the best time to move, the winter, but I will if I have to.” Settling his hand on your side to start the walk out to the gym, grinning to himself that he could take you in a couple like way. A short split for putting your things up and you both delved into your usual patterns, each keeping the other in sight wondering when the next time that you might be able to jump in and help the other.

For the leg press a chuckle sounded behind you as you eyed the machine a guy had left well over your height and glancing up Henry eased his hand across your back saying, “One sec.” Settling into the machine to release the lever to lower and lock it to your height. His hand molded around yours accepting your help up and released to help you set the weights before taking a pause between his own exercises to chat with you during and between your sets. With a hand up you went to use the swinging arm machine while he was off to work on his glutes and thighs. At least that was your intention as he rested the weighted bar on his hips and did hip thrusts and holds eventually making you have to stop at your slightly childish giggling. Holding his lift he chuckled noticing your move to slip to the bathroom to collect yourself and finished his set thankful his groin muscles had healed.

Returning again you claimed the spot to bench press bringing Henry over with a smirk to trade off weights and turns on the bench. Lower weights and high reps were intended to help keep you both up for your date tonight and not in too much pain. All the same a break for stretching had him settling on a quick shower once you had mentioned to do the same. A hasty towel dry of your hair you braided back and you redressed exiting to find him tying his shoe he didn’t realize he’d missed before in his hurry. “Ready?” he asked as he stood and you nodded accepting his hand. Once outside he said, “I have a photo shoot in a few hours, but I should have plenty of time to be back and ready for dinner.”

“Sounds like fun. Lounging clothes or something sportier?”

Lowly he chuckled, “Not sure, think they said something about a jumper,”

“Ooh, no doubt nice and soft.”

Smiling at you he said, “If they let me have it I’ll give it to you.”

“Those are dangerous words, Sugar Plum.”

“Oh really, and just what might happen if I did?”

“One way road to me having to kiss you.”

Faking a gasp he leaned in, “How despicable,” earning a giggle from you muffling against his lips, in pulling back he hummed, “I may just have to take that chance.”

For the few minutes you had in the lift he held you close kissing you again and walked you to your door to steal another final kiss and had to say goodbye to finish getting his things ready for the shoot. Timid waves and joint turns away left you both to separate mornings, you to answering your dad’s call to finalize the plans for your trip out for the game so he could meet your new cuddle buddy. Him and your brothers seemed eager to meet him and had heard so many good things about him.

.

Exhaling sharply you smoothed your hands over your hips smoothing out the pencil skirt on your backless black dress held together with crossing pink straps matching the tall heels you’d picked for the night. Turning in the mirror you eyed your loose curls swept to one side and lip stain chosen you spread across your lips that gave a soft pop before your checking pucker to ensure they were covered fully. Adding that to your mismatched grey studded clutch with your wallet and phone you carried to the living room reminding yourself on how to casually stroll in the tight skirt. The motion instantly came with ease as you’d very unfashionably worn it a gasp inducing fifty times since your oldest brother had bought it for you on a family shopping trip for a party. The silhouette and simple black design had it a staple to any fancy sort of occasion to dress up for.

The knock at your door had you turning from your pacing steps grinning out of nerves in the crossing of the room. Upon opening the door you chuckled finding Henry there holding up a powder blue jumper smiling at you in saying, “One dangerous jumper.”

Accepting it you eyed the pack of glow stick words he held up making you giggle curiously, “Thank you?”

Chuckling bashfully he said, “I was a bit late on the flowers and I wasn’t certain on the whole chocolate situation, they only had the Godiva nut coated packs, so, swords.”

You giggled again, “No going wrong with swords.”

“Exactly,” he said following you in a couple steps to set the pair down on the table along the wall, and in looking the back of your dress over instinctively he stepped closer to you smirking in your turn to face him again giving him another chance to look you over while you looked over his fitted charcoal suit and light pink shirt toned down by the charcoal tie your fingers rose to trace. “Besides, swords go with the jumper,” he hummed out moving closer at your arms easing up over his shoulders signaling his hands to circle your waist drawing you closer leaning in, “Only the best for my tiny assassin.”

Again you giggled melting into the kiss he began that lasted for a few perfect moments granting his fingers a chance to trail up and down across your back in the lean in and out. Keeping his forehead against yours he murmured, “Dinner first, then you can try on the jumper.”

“What a charmer, already trying to get me out of my dress.”

Chuckling through a blush he kept a hand on your back to step to the door, “Yes, out of your clothes and into mine.” Making you giggle in stepping into the hall.

Locking the door behind you he led you to the lift and smiled with you leaned against his side. Peeking up at him you said, “I do have to warn you I was asked for a picture of us, so, some time tonight.”

With a smirk he pulled out his phone and you both chuckled and smiled through the picture he took of the both of you and said, “Mum wanted one too. She loved you in Berlin Station by the way.” That had you giggling and covering your face a moment with one hand making him ask, “What?”

“I can’t remember an episode where I wasn’t taking off my pants or in a corset.” Making him chuckle, “One scene where I beat a guy into the ground in a bath towel too, that one I would be proud to show off to anyone. Not gonna lie my dad was proud of that one.”

Making him chuckle, “No doubt, Tom’s watched it all, I am a bit behind on it. Between you and your friend Richard’s naked scenes I had to take a pause.”

You giggled again, “No I get that, had to pause Tudors more than once for Henry’s love scenes. I didn’t think I could get irritated with seeing a guy naked so many times.” Again he chuckled and nodded, “And for the last couple seasons I ended up just fast forwarding through his love scenes, which, honestly makes it easier to binge it.”

“I bet.” You stepped out and were on the way to his car and he asked, “Any corset scenes in this film?”

Smirking up at him you said, “No, rarely take off my trench coat. It’s sort of a pirate like outfit, kind of similar to your Witcher outfit. Full long swords and mini crossbows on my hips and thighs look.”

“Ooh,”

“Exactly, love it. I think the most is I take off my boots for a wake up shot, ankles under the bed,” he chuckled as you added in sitting in the car he unlocked and opened for you, “It’s pretty intense.”

“No doubt,” he said watching your legs shift into the car. He closed the door and hurried around to get in, “You prefer it? The grittier films?” Glancing your way.

“I do like the physical roles, grittier emotionally are good. I am not gonna lie, I’m sort of tired being the strip down and grind on somebody just to fill in a blank two minutes in the script.”

He nodded wetting his lips resting a hand on the wheel settling to listen to you before backing out, “I get that.”

“Because there’s so much more to a relationship that can show intimacy past just throwing down. If it’s useful to the script then ya, even in my first roles it’s been a point I drove home to the directors, if it can be cut out and not change anything then I’m not doing it. Which, as irritating as it is for them it really got, like in the show, it gave the writers a chance to fluff out more ideas they’d been sitting on, like the towel scene, they wanted me actually to have a quickie with Rich in a closet,” His lips parted, “Exactly,”

“How did Rich take that?”

You giggled, “He’s ready for his dad bod years, the roles he gets to not be shirtless, so he really helped with backing me on that. Which is so huge, because of my age, and I’m not gonna be oblivious and say I’m not attractive and my body isn’t marketable, and I’m not uncomfortable being scantily clad for good reason, but I’m not another girl they can just snap their fingers and I’ll strip just to shut them up.”

“I do get that, even just the filming for Superman, it’s terrible, starving and tearing yourself apart for three minutes before you nearly black out in a fight scene. Then it’s get shirtless. I do wish it was better, especially for you. Even Witcher, I have shirtless scenes, the bathtub scene, some love scenes but it feels so much safer than how other projects have been.”

“Well I can’t wait to see it.”

He smirked at you asking more curious than anything, “So you wouldn’t mind seeing me in love scenes?”

Shaking your head a blush prickled across his cheeks, “Nope, because it’s not porn, I mean eye porn maybe,” making him shake his head and turn forward shifting gears to back up, “But no, I get the job. And it depends on the guy, some guys they bring it home with them, literally, including their costars,”

“I don’t do that, ever.”

Patting his arm you said, “I can tell, what about me?”

He glanced at you again, “No, I have loved your films.”

Softly you asked, “Even the one with the radioactive zebras?”

“The what?!” he chuckled out.

“Not every one then.”

“Apparently not, I will be looking that up though later.” Again he stole a glance at you and asked, “I have to ask, was it because of your family, the nudity restrictions?”

“Um, I mean no dad wants to see their baby girl pinned to a wall,”

“No, they do not.”

“It really also comes with my realizing that I was a demisexual, which really,” you let out an awkward chuckle, “my dad actually told me that was what I was,”

“Really?”

“Ya, it was a huge thing, I had a boyfriend in school who just, railed into me that I was broken and just, because it’s not about looks for me, and it was just not clicking the whole hormone thing like other teens to just tear off your clothes and go to town as much as possible. Just, I didn’t feel that,”

“I would have killed him,”

“My brothers almost did, and my dad told his dad who really sent the message home that you don’t talk to women like that. And, one of my cousins is gay, so my uncle learning about that talked to my dad and they got these books and said that it made sense for how I was even in that awkward phase. I mean I was one of the few people pissed that Jurassic World had the romance taking screen time away from the dinosaurs,” Making him chuckle again, “Even the Tudors, the sex got in the way, I am there for dinosaurs and the costume filled drama.” Looking at him you said, “So just growing up, relationships are, different.”

“My oldest brother’s actually ace, so we have been there, as a family,” he tapped his chest a moment, “So nothing but support from me and the family here.” After a moment he asked, “How did that conversation go, with him?”

“There were tears, mainly from me, but in a good way. They’re all really supportive, it really goes into their protective ways to make sure that that’s not an issue. Part of why they do really love and support my position on this and love that when I am stripped down it’s important to the plot, and why they love my choice in friends who all are so supportive with my dad bod mentality.”

“I do love that mentality. I really do. And I can’t say how helpful in readying for this role has been grueling, and just your presence is incredible in dealing with that, especially even with just the instagram ghosting with me and Tom, and then the triangle press. Being away from family is grueling, and work on top of it, I think I would have snapped if I wouldn’t have moved into the same building as you two.”

“Don’t make me give you a hug,” Again he chuckled and smiled at you, “Because I will, once you park, no one can save you.”

“I don’t want to be saved.” He said looking forward again. “I enjoy your torture.”

In a giggle you replied, “Careful who you say that around.” Luring another chuckle from him in his hand lowering to yours on the arm rest he took hold of in the easy silence falling between you.

Outside the cozy place he picked for dinner he sighed seeing the cameras there for another couple inside who once you were on your feet realized who had arrived, only capturing a couple snapped images of you both passing through the open doors. Back to a private booth you were led and focused on the menu you chatted over, facing one another when the orders were taken leaving just you both. Drinks were brought granting a moment of reprieve from the awkward silence before you said, “So, you like rugby.”

He smirked answering, “I do.”

“We’re both going to be in spitting distance of the next Reds game.”

“Yes,” he said inching up in his seat excitedly that you were bringing up the match he was wondering how to ask you to. “I actually was going to ask you about that, I have tickets, really good ones, if you’d like to go with me?”

At his hopeful nip at his lip you smiled letting out a soft chuckle, “Yes, that would be fun.”

“Good, because my brothers will also be there, around us.”

“Wow,”

“I understand if-,”

You shook your head, “It, actually, being blunt,” he nodded with brows furrowing a moment trying to gauge what you were going to say, “My dad called, and my brothers,”

“Okay?”

“They are all coming, and having a dinner they would like me to bring you to.”

The awkward smile on your face spread one across his face and he replied, “Sounds like fun.”

You pointed at him, “Keep that glimmer in your palm and don’t let go,” making him chuckle again, “Now they aren’t-,”

He shook his head patting his chest, “Four brothers, I am ready, and absolutely looking forward to meeting your dad especially.” Making you giggle again.

“You’re going to geek out aren’t you?”

“Oh yes,”

“No doubt my photographic memory on the team history will be tapped more than once.”

“That is so attractive to hear.” He said lifting his glass for a sip, “You being a Reds fan will smooth so much with my family.”

You giggled lifting your own glass, “Oh I put the fan in fanatic.” Earning another chuckle from him. “Hope you’re not too close to the field, I might just get escorted up to the box so I won’t distract my dad.”

“That bad?”

“Oh if you think he’s a hard coach you were not paying attention two years ago when I filled in through Gramps’ shoulder surgery.”

“That was you?”

You pointed at him, “All me, guys were so glad when he came back,” earning a laugh from him at your giggle, “Dad has never seen men so eager to do his sprints and relays.”

“But they won the title,”

“They did,” you giggled out, “And the other teams couldn’t talk trash, cuz we won.”

“Insane credit your way.”

“Thank you, they always joke about the next generation being in for hellish victory if I inherit the coaching from Dad. I think Todd would actually be a better match with the owners though for the political aspect. I’m not very good at politics.”

“You and me both.”

More favored Hobbies blended into stories from your lives growing up to help smooth things over a tad with the families. Thrown drinks and an erupting argument had you both giggling and sneaking out with him blocking you from anything possible projectiles to get you safely back in his car where he had to fight his urge to just kiss you senseless out of sight from other diners. But he tucked you safe out of sight and started the drive home again holding your hand all the way to your door where he said, “Ten minutes, I’ll bring the wine down.”

“I’ll break out the brownies.” He stepped away only for you to poke his arm, the wide grin on your face had him chuckling and closing the distance draping his arms around your back pressing the clutch he had claimed to help you out of the car.

Humming lowly stroking his nose against yours, “I assumed dessert would be time for kisses.”

Below the knot of his tie your hand settled and you whispered back, “You have my keys.” Breathily he chuckled realizing why you’d stopped him only to melt into the kiss you claimed keeping hold of his tie you had given a gentle tug to.

Drawing back he chuckled again passing you your clutch, “Ten minutes. I look forward to seeing you in your new jumper.” He hummed out turning to head up and change in your slip inside your apartment.

Lifting the jumper you carried to your room and left it on your bed to wiggle out of your dress and heels to hop into some shorts and a tank top covered by the jumper you tugged the sleeves up on to pull your hair into a messy bun. Into the living room you went smirking as you eyed the pack of swords, and idea popped in your head and you were off in search of a post it note.

‘Defend yourself,’ the words were written on a post it on the hilt of one of the fake swords splitting a beaming grin across Henry’s face as he entered your apartment in slippers, sweats and a t shirt leaving the wine on the table by the door. Around the corner he came finding you popping into his path ensuing a playful giggle filled mock battle through the apartment ending with your victorious giggle from on top of your bed. A narrowed gaze from Henry ended with his sudden grip of your thighs to tackle you onto the bed releasing a squeaking giggle in his lips planting on your cheek.

Behind his camera having followed the sound of a possible scuffle Tom smiled saying, “I always miss the swords fights.”

Henry chuckled looping his arms around your back to pick you up and carry you into the living room, “Time for brownies and wine, then we can duel.” Tom chuckled pocketing his phone after having sent you both copies of the video he had shot of your duel. Sugar and wine dripped break bled into the brandishing of the third sword in the pack in a pitifully managed triple duel with pillows as shields ending with the three of you sprawled out in your bed.

Sunrise stirred you hearing Tom contently sleeping to your left with Henry draped across your chest clinging to you. The gym was skipped for a day and contently as Tom slept the duel and dessert off Henry smiled feeling your fingers smoothing through his hair and across his back in the picture of perfection topping off the best date the pair of you could ever have.

[amarabliss]

Galahdian Dreams - 7 (Nyx Ulric/Reader)

Synopsis: Your father was the king of Insomnia. He was good and just. You never thought you’d meet anyone like him after he was taken from the world. Your Uncle Regis, has taken the throne and followed through on your father’s plans. It was good to see the city in capable hands.

Enter Nyx Ulric, refugee, Glaive, fighter…how is it he can see all your secrets? He knows how to set you off and he’s promised to not let you go…(AU for sure, Regis wasn’t supposed to take the throne, and our lovely Nyx has more of a past then we thought…)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

**WARNING** please be aware there are depictions of violence that may be triggering. Please remember to spread tolerance in the world and not hate. 

Be the first step to a better future.

Nyx groaned as he rolled over his bed reaching for his phone that had just went off. Everything was hazy from the night before, but as he read the text from you it slowly started come back into focus.

Y/N – Captain Drautos got me back…please rest well… (1am)

Y/N – Don’t think because you have the day off gets you off the hook. (9am)

Y/N – Please take care of youself…(Now)

You misspelled a word he smiled a little. That wasn’t like you at all, you must’ve been very worried for him. He set his phone down as he threw his feet off his bed, the cold floor brought him back to the night before.

The both of you had only stayed for an hour more. Everyone begged you to come back. Even Crowe pulled you to the side and spoke to you for a while, which worried him…

“So…” He walked backwards as they headed back to the Citadel, “what’cha think?”

You smiled at him shoving your hands into his jacket to keep warm, “You have very nice friends.”

“And…” He smirked leaning forward looking at your face when you looked away.

“It was nice to not have the weight of expectations on my shoulders.” You looked back at him eyes bright with happiness, “It was nice to just talk about what I like to do without someone telling me to focus on something else. I hope I can go back.”

“You’re always welcome.” He stopped in front of you smiling, “Just let me know when you want to go…”

“Are all the wards like that one? With a market at the front?” You asked as he started walking next to you again.

“Other wards? This is the only one…” You stopped looking at him face dropping, “What is it?”

“That can’t be right…you can’t all live in that small area?” You shook your head when he confirmed that they did. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and already you were falling back into your royal role, “That wasn’t part of the plan…”

“Plan?” He titled his head looking at you confused.

“After the initial attack on Galahd my father drew up a plan for aid and refugees…” You put you hand to your face as worry and anger flashed in your eyes, “I helped him with it…there were specific things in place to allow for more people…to keep everyone safe.”

“Okay…well…” He stepped closer to you as he put his hand on your arm to try and comfort you, “we can worry about everything tomorrow…”

As you began to nod someone began to approach them shouting, “Hey! Get your hands off her!”

Nyx turned to look and was met with a haymaker. A bright light flashed behind his eyes as fell to the ground landing hard on his arm. He heard you cry out alarmed as he tried to get up receiving a swift kick into the stomach forcing what air he had out, “Stop! Stop it!”

Nyx groaned and grunted as a group of men gathered around him beating him. You kept screaming at them to stop as he managed to cover his head, “Stop!”

“Keep her quiet! She’s no better than them if she’s hanging around with them…” Nyx felt his fist ball up hearing that. You let out a muffled scream…it sounded like you were struggling.

By order of the king, Glaives were not to use their abilities on citizens of Insomnia. In this case, he needed to protect his charge…a grey area leaning favorably in his direction…he hoped.

He reached out drawing the electricity from the lamps around him as a source. He waited until he gathered enough before he grabbed one of his assailant’s legs sending them flying away with the electric force.

The surprise attack paused the abuse he was receiving enough for him to roll out of the way to his knees. He stood up looking at the other two who had been attacking him and the third holding you back. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep like a low growl, “Let her go.”

“Shit…shit he’s a Glaive…” The one was wise enough to see that at least. The mention of that gave the other two hesitant looks.

“Get your friend…” Nyx continued his low tone as he balled up his fist letting electricity crackle around it again, “and get out of here…”

The two moved around him slowly to collect their buddy. The other one held onto you for a moment longer before he shoved you toward him taking off. Nyx caught you watching them run down the street. Once he was sure they were away his body shook before his knees gave out.

“Nyx!” You tried so hard to hold him up, but he was too heavy. You crumpled under him, half guiding him down, cradling his head so he didn’t hit the ground, “Nyx…no no no…open your eyes…Nyx!”

He cracked them slightly grimacing a little, “Ar-are you okay?”

“Me…no…don’t worry about me…” You shook your head putting your hand against the side of his face. He must’ve looked bad because your face was red with tears, “Oh Six…What do I do?”

He groaned reaching into his pants with difficulty pulling out his phone unlocking it, “Call…Titus…”

“Titus…who…” Was the last thing he heard from you before he passed out.

He washed his hands in the sink after using the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. His nose was swollen and broken, lip cut, large gash on the side of his head ending somewhere in his hair…and bruises…he couldn’t blame you for being terrified. Head wounds bleed like a bitch.

He stood up straight clenching his jaw as the bandage around his ribs began giving him resistance. Astrals this was gonna be a rough couple of days…

He limped back to bed laying down, gently letting his head plop down into his pillow. He shut his eyes just about finding rest when his phone buzzed. He let out a frustrated sigh reaching for it. He shook his head as he answered, “Titus…”

“Ah…he lives.” Titus didn’t sound completely furious yet, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was jumped and had the shit kicked out of me…” Nyx smirked a little shutting his eyes, “Oh wait…”

“Yeah you’re laughing now…it could’ve been a lot worse.” He could hear him rustling through papers, “Seriously, how are you doing?”

“Sore…super headache…” Nyx listed off as he rolled to his side groaning, “hurts to breath…”

“All normal things to feel. Crowe is afraid you might have a concussion; I think you’re fine. Regardless, everyone is going to be calling you today.” Titus told him and before he could protest, “And if you don’t answer Libertus is going to come over and sit with you.”

Nyx let out a frustrated growl opening his eyes, “Fine…”

“You know why…” Titus started as Nyx interrupted.

“Yeah…yeah…I know.” He rolled back to his back staring at the ceiling, “…is Y/N alright?”

“Physically…yes…not a scratch on her.” Titus told him as more shuffling occurred.

“And mentally?” Nyx felt his chest tighten thinking back to when he first met you.

“Scared…upset…” Titus sighed clearly stopping whatever work he was working, “I got her back here with no one noticing…though I’m not as stealthy as you.”

“I’m sure you did great.” Nyx frowned letting silence fill the line for a moment, “Who’s with her?”

“Pelna…I figured his sunny attitude might help put her at ease.” He told him with a sigh, “If that isn’t…”

“It’s fine.” Nyx shook his head, “I’m not worried about anything…I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“No, that’s not what…” Titus began again as Nyx interrupted once more, “Dammit Nyx! For once in your life just listen to me!”

Nyx fell silent waiting for him to go on, “You have to take care of yourself. You are more important then you think. Last night…last night could have been the end of us…so please…I will take care of everything here. You just heal.”

Nyx shut his eyes nodding before he spoke quietly, “Alright…I understand.”

“…thank you.” Titus sighed, “I know that it’s hard for you to just sit by.”

“Yeah…” Nyx frowned a little as he opened his eyes again, “I think Y/N’s figured me out…”

“What do you mean?” The sound of a stapler rang out on the other side.

“I think she knows who I am…” There was a definite pause on the other side, “I didn’t tell her…”

“Are you going to?” Titus waited for an answer but received none, “Nyx?”

“I think I have too…” Nyx sighed frowning putting his free hand to his face, “So much for anonymity…”

“Will you leave your position?” Titus asked sounding eager.

“Not if I don’t have to.” Hearing a heavy sigh made him smile, “You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?”

“You realize that opens a very big can of worms…” Titus told him as another stapler sounded.

“Doesn’t have to…what are you doing?” He winced as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Dossiers… it’s a new policy the higher ups want. We need to have information on everyone who’s a Glaive.” Titus told him begrudgingly.

“Is something happening?” Nyx sat up letting out a curse putting a hand to his chest.

“You alright?” Nyx couldn’t help but smile hearing the Captain’s concern.

“Yep…just me being me. Can’t sit still.” He told him picking fuzz of his sheets.

“Just don’t be stupid…please…my heart can’t take the stress.” Nyx laughed before he groaned. Titus chuckled sounding pleased in his pain, “As for if something going on…do you really think they’d tell me?”

Nyx sighed draping his arm over his knee, “I can do some digging…”

“Nyx…” It was the same exhausted tone he used to give him back home.

“I can do it right from here…won’t even leave the house.” Nyx told him with a smile, “I just happen to know a Crownsguard who has a parent that protects the king…”

“I wouldn’t be able to stop you even if I was there babysitting you myself…” Titus sighed. Nyx could practically see him rubbing his face in frustration, “Just please…”

“I will. I won’t leave…I’ll just sit in my chair or lay in bed.” Nyx reassured him, “I’ll even answer the phone when everyone calls.”

“Appreciate that…take it easy.” Titus told him hanging up.

Nyx sighed looking around his apartment. He needed to clean this place…luckily he had the perfect excuse not to do that today. He chuckled to himself falling back gently. He looked at his phone in his hand pulling up your messages.

He stared at them for a long time before he worked up the courage to text you back.

Nyx – Glad you got back in one piece…really sorry I wasn’t on my game.

… … …

His eyes widened when he saw the little dots almost immediately alerting him that you were responding.

Y/N – It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry that my people are so full of hate.

Y/N – How are you feeling?

He smiled involuntarily at the question before his fingers went to work.

Nyx – I have had better days, but I’ve definitely had worse…

… … …

Why did his heart skip simply by seeing dots? Yeah…sure he thought you were attractive, but he didn’t know what you liked to do besides gardening. You were book smart, eloquent with your words, and you used to be linked with your people...something since falling away from the light you lost.

But was a month of hanging around one another enough time to really know anyone? Was taking you out to meet his friends more then just trying to get you to trust him?

Y/N – Captain Drautos was sure your ribs were broken…if you need anything, please ask.

Nyx – Nothing I can’t handle. I’ll be back in a couple of days.

Y/N – Take more time if you need it. Pelna is doing a great job in your absence.

Nyx – I bet he’s not as quiet as I am though. Studying in the library must be hard…

Y/N – You’re not wrong, he likes to chat, but it’s okay. I don’t feel like studying today.

He chuckled and continued carrying on a conversation with you for a while before his eyes began to get heavy, lowering with each blink until they finally shut.

When his eyes opened again, he was laying under a large palm tree in hammock. The breeze smelled sweet as it blew across him. He smiled feeling content under the Galahdian sky.

“Nyx!” He looked over seeing Lena running toward him big smile on his face already dressed for their special guests, “They’re here!”

He groaned waving his hand at her before rolling over, “Psh…”

“You don’t want to meet your future?” She leaned on the hammock looking at him, “I heard she’s really pretty…”

“She’s probably pale and pasty…” Nyx covered his head with his arm as she leaned closer to him.

Lena scowled poking him in the ribs making him jump, “Mom worked really hard on this…and you agreed to it! So, don’t disappoint her!”

He peeked his eye open looking through past his arm at her letting out a big sigh, “I can’t get out of this one, can I?”

“’Fraid not, kinda a requirement to meet your betrothed before the wedding.” Lena crossed her arms cocking her hip to one side. She was going to make someone very happy in the future, and also be very frustrating to handle.

He rolled his eyes hopping out of the hammock smirking at her, “When did you get so smart?”

“It’s a natural talent I have. It must’ve skipped you!” She let out a laugh as he started attacking her sides with tickles, “Nyx stop! Stop it!”

He laughed a little letting her run off as he reached for his achkan jacket. He knew his responsibility he just wanted to avoid it as long as he could. He never felt like he’d be able to do his father justice. Though his mother told him to rule with his own heart, and not his father’s…it was hard not to want to live up to a man who instilled strength in his nation.

He closed each button walking slowly toward the entrance of their home. He’d heard about the Lucian capitol and he wondered if it’s princess would be underwhelmed by them just living in a large estate instead of castle reaching for the sky. He also wondered if you’d even wanted to do this or if King Malcolm was forcing you into it for the resources…

“Nyx…late as always.” He smiled leaning down kissing his mother’s cheeks before she looked him over, “At least you’re dressed for the occasion...”

“I know how important this is to you mom.” He took his place next to her as Lena took her spot on the other side, “I know how important this is for our country.”

Selena looked at him letting out a sigh, “Good…I know this arrangement may not be ideal…but I do hope one day you both find a way to love one another.”

He looked at her and smiled, “I’m sure it will all work out.”

She smiled at him giving his arm a supportive squeeze before she stepped out. Lena looked at him and he gave her a wink before following them both out to meet their arriving guests. He stood on the steps behind his mother and sister as sleek black car pulled up.

Two men stepped out looking around the area before they both went to the back doors opening them. The first to step out was King Malcolm. He smiled greeting his mother with a low bow. He turned waving his arm out to an older woman introducing her as his wife.

His eyes shifted to the third person stepping out on the other side of the car. No doubt the woman he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. Sunlight bounced off your hair as you looked out over the forest.

When you turned, he felt a million butterflies flutter in his stomach. You had kind eyes and a beautiful smile. You moved with grace around the car as you told the young man with dark hair following you around to back off, “Gladio it’s fine. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t…”

“Well just lemme know…” He crossed his arms looking up towards Nyx with a glare as he whispered toward you, “Can’t be too careful!”

You shushed him making Nyx chuckle. It reminded him of himself and how he interacted with his own guards. Luckily when he was at home he wasn’t required to tote them around. One thing was for sure you were at least playful.

“And this is my daughter, Y/N.” Your father introduced you to his mother.

You smiled at her bowing low like your father, “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. My father has said nothing but wonderful things about Galahd and its people.”

“Oh my…she is bright, isn’t she?” Selena smiled glancing toward Nyx, “Perhaps this is a blessing and you can teach my son some etiquette of the court?”

Nyx rolled his eyes a little stepping down as his mother introduced him and his sister, “This is my younger daughter, Selena.”

“You can call me Lena, little less confusing.” She curtsied excitedly with curious eyes.

“And this my son and heir to my position, Nyx.” Selena waved toward him.

He stepped next to his mother bowing to your parents, then bowing to you offering his hand out, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Your father did not do you justice.”

When you took his hand, he kissed the top of it making you blush, “The pleasure is mine.”

“Wonderful.” Selena smiled at them all throwing her hands out gently, “We’ll let you all get settled before we have lunch. I’m sure the boat ride over was long.”

“We had fair weather and calm seas…” Malcolm began to speak as he and your mother walked with the queen.

Nyx let go of your hand looking at Lena nodding his head for her to skedaddle. She smirked at him before stepping up to you, “I just wanted to say welcome to Galahd. If you have any questions, it’s probably better to ask me or mom…”

“Lena…” He coughed a little as she laughed walking away, “She didn’t mean that.”

“Oh, it seems she did or else she wouldn’t have said it.” You smirked at him eyes twinkling.

He laughed a little as you both began going up the stairs, “She’s an instigator is more like it.”

“Troublemaker you mean…” You stopped turning around seeing your guard slowly creeping up behind you, “You do have better things to do. I’m in good hands from what my father tells me. The prince is well versed in fighting.”

Nyx felt warmth spread throughout his shoulders when you looked at him smiling as your guard moved past you both, “You trust your father’s opinion of me?”

“He’s a good judge of character. We wouldn’t be here otherwise, and I’m certain he wouldn’t have asked me to marry you if you were not a good man.” You looked back making a face, “What is that whistling noise?”

“Whistling?” He looked up as fear rose in his chest. He saw bombs drifting downward from Niflheim ships.

He reached for you as walked inside…

“No!” He shot up letting out cry of pain rolling to the side putting a hand on his side. He took in several sharp breaths trying to get the pain under control.

“Hey hey hey…take it easy.” He looked up as Crowe came into view helping him to sit up, “That must’ve been some dream.”

“Just…” He took in a few more deep breaths, “…never mind…what are you doing here?”

“I figured you were hungry…and I also thought I’d check you over again.” She told him reaching for his phone waving it in his face, “And you slept through three check-ins.”

“Ah…so Titus sent you.”  He groaned again as he leaned back on his elbows “I appreciate the concern, but really I’m fine.”

“Clearly…” She rolled her eyes tossing his phone next to home before she began to undo the bandages, “You really got wrecked last night. Had us all worried…If Y/N hadn’t called Titus…”

“I’d still be okay because she would have figured it out.” Nyx interrupted her.

“I suppose…but Nyx if you’re going to be bringing her around…you should really consider teaching her a thing or two.” Crowe told him with a sigh as she started feeling his side.

“She knows how to fight…it’s just…” He shook his head wincing away from her touch, “They stopped her training pretty much as soon as she started…no power, no fighting I guess.”

“Well you should give her a refresher if her own people are gonna be bigots.” She shook her head started to wrap him up again.

He didn’t respond as he chewed his bottom lip. Crowe wasn’t wrong, it would benefit you to know some self-defense. He couldn’t be there every time, though he wouldn’t admit that.

He glanced at his phone as it went off. His eyes widened as the preview held the whole message.

Pelna – call y/n…

[purple-possibilities]

Boomer vs Millenial Texting

Idk about you guys but I text my parents fairly often, and I find it funny how like... differently they text than the younger generation.

My dad types like he talks, for the most part, when he’s not misspelling things because he has chunky fingers, or accidentally sending emoji. Lots of accidental emoji. Idk how he does it. Not too different than normal texting. Go dad, you’re still hip...ish.

When I say he types like he talks, please don’t think that implies he talks normally. He talks to me like he’s this mix of some sort of knight in a regency era historical drama addressing his liege, a modern day soldier addressing his commander, and a spy discussing plans with a partner, but that‘s just his personality (e.g. “I have recovered the spoils as directed and shall make my return post haste. The time is currently twenty-hundred-hours, synchronize your watches. I shall arrive in twenty minutes, captain, and if not, I’ll take the lash!” means he’s coming to visit with takeout, it’s 8pm and he’ll be there at 8:20pm and absolutely won’t be late. You could have just said that dad but I guess this is more fun).

Dad also likes to call after he texts to see if you got his message, even if you’ve already texted him back. One or the other dad! Choose one!

My mom, however, texts like how they used to teach you to type. As in, typewriter typing. She took a class on it in high school or university, and they have very specific rules. Some you don’t really notice, like the fact that she always double spaces after a period. Not a big dif. You probably didn’t notice that I did that in this paragraph.

She often ends sentences with elipses. It reads to me like she’s trailing off, and I used to ask her if she had something more to say. But that’s not how she was using them. I got frustrated once and asked her why she never finishes her sentences, and she was totally confused. As it turns out, ending a sentence in “...” was apparently a way to make your sentence come across as “softer.” So while I thought she was sending shade or being whiny when she wrote things like “you didn’t fix my printer...” she was intending it to come across as “you didnt fix my printer but no worries do it when you have a chance.” She said that ending sentences with a period meant they were strong statements. So “you didn’t fix my printer.” would mean she was mad, which is something we both recognize as true but for different reasons. I told her than was what exclamation points were for, and she said “you never use exclamation points, it’s rude,” and that was that.

Whenever I text my mom something funny she always replies with “Haha.” Thats it. It sounds so sarcastic until you realize she just means lol or hahaha. Somehow the third “ha” makes the laugh genuine in text talk, but mom doesn’t have time for that.

She also just replies with “K” like with almost everything. If your friend sent you a “K” you’d be like “why you so mad? What did I do?” But not with mom. Mom is just an efficient typer. She doesn’t have time to write “cool” or “nice” or “sure” or even “K!” (You never use exclamation points after all. They’re rude. She must think I yell at her a lot over text...)

Those are the ones that come to me now, I might think of more later lol.

[continuallycrow]

i could sit around here for the rest of my life

the coffeeshop/college au nobody asked for. casphardt week day 4: au day. read on ao3 here or below the cut.

“Caramel macchiato for Caspar?”

With a heavy sigh in anticipation of just how hideously Linhardt will have butchered his name on the cup today, Caspar heads to the handoff area and picks up his paper cup. The boxes are ticked and marked in his boyfriend’s easily recognisable scrawl, and just above the siren’s head, Cazpar is scribbled with a crude heart and what might be a butterfly, or might just be a mistake that’s not been crossed through all the way. From the register, Linhardt beams at him, and just for a moment, Caspar feels sixteen again, his heart clenching just a little, the way it always does when he gets to see that smile. It’s part of the reason why he acts so dramatic over the misspellings - because if it makes Linhardt grin and giggle like that, it’s got to be worth it.

“A fucking Z? Really, Lin?” He clutches his chest theatrically, pretends to stumble, and in the process, spills hot coffee all over his hand. “Ow!” “Idiot,” Linhardt scolds fondly, beckoning him over to the counter again and taking his hand. He mops at the coffee with a bit of blue paper towel, but Caspar knows that it’s just an excuse to touch him. Linhardt likes to be touching him. It’s just the way he is, especially now he’s got the Starbucks job at weekends and the football season is in full swing, it’s like they hardly see each other any more.

There’s no line, so Caspar lets Linhardt take him by the collar of his varsity jacket - it’s red and black, the Eagles colours, with his initials stitched on the left side of his chest and his jersey number embroidered on the back, and it might just be his most prized possession after Lin’s heart - and pull him in for a quick kiss. It tastes like coffee, obviously, because Linhardt always has a cup of something on the go, usually a weird secret menu creation or something topped with far too much whipped cream. Today, though, it’s something iced and black, and yet, Linhardt still hides a yawn in his sweater sleeve.

“You are not sleepy right now.” The disbelief is evident in Caspar’s voice. “Oh, but I am so sleepy right now, Cas,” Linhardt almost whines. “How much coffee have you had already?” His coworkers chime in, as if on cue, all bright-eyed as ever. “He’s on his third cup?” Ferdinand guesses. “Fourth, actually. I am surprised his heart is not stopping.” Petra sounds unamused.

Linhardt kisses Caspar again. It’s definitely just to distract him. “How could my heart stop, when you’re here? It beats only for you. And besides, I think I’ve become immune to caffeine,” he adds mournfully, gazing at his cup. Caspar rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that’s a thing. Please drink some water. And call me when you get off.” He leans up for one more kiss, standing on tiptoe, because Linhardt is just that slightest bit too tall, and has taken to wearing a pair of thrifted, thick-soled Doc Martens that Dorothea says are the perfect compliment to his oversized knit sweaters and torn jeans, but Caspar just thinks they were picked out to make his boyfriend an inch too tall to kiss unexpectedly. The only time he can surprise Linhardt with kisses now is when they’re laying in bed, and it’s annoying to need him to bend down every time Caspar wants to show off how fucking cute and how in love they are.

“I promise I’ll drink water. And I promise to at least text you.” Linhardt practically lies across the counter to hug him. “Have fun at practise, okay? Don’t get hurt.” “I never get hurt. I’m fine. I’ll see you tonight.” Caspar reluctantly detaches himself, waves to Petra and Ferdinand, and leaves, the door chime jingling after him.

If he has to run to make practice in time, and his coffee is cold enough to chug by the time he gets there, it doesn’t matter so much when he’s seen Lin.

~~~

“Gingerbread latte for C-Caspar?”

The first snow has fallen on campus, and Caspar has finally given in to Dorothea insisting that he needs to wear more than a hoodie so he doesn’t freeze. He thinks, though, that it isn’t him anyone needs to worry about.

It’s Linhardt, shivering in his Christmas sweater and red apron even among the heat of the coffee machines, his hair coming down from its usually neat half-bun as he flits between bars, grinding beans and steaming milk and pouring hearts and roses in the foam. Petra’s working the register, so Caspar’s name is spelled right for once, and as he goes to take the cup, Ferdinand comes out of nowhere behind Linhardt and pats his shoulder. “Take your half-hour, while you can.”

Caspar beams, and practically drags Linhardt around the handoff, coffee forgotten as he wraps his arms around him. “A whole half-hour? We’re getting spoilt, Linny.” He’s already gently untying the apron strings so Linhardt can take the stupid thing off, so they can commandeer a low table in the corner of the room and Caspar can actually hug Linhardt for the first time in a few days. They’ve been so busy with studying and working that they haven’t had the chance for one of their impromptu sleepovers, both squeezed into a dorm room bed, or even to catch up at lunch. Caspar has been wholly deprived of boyfriend time, and judging by the way Linhardt pulls him down onto an overstuffed couch and buries his nose in the crook of his neck. His face is hot, but his hands are freezing, stained with tiny splatters of mocha and espresso and soon firmly curled in the folds of Caspar’s parka.

“Feeling okay?” Caspar asks softly, nosing into his hair and then deciding to fix it for him. Gentle as ever, he twists the mess into an uneven braid, so at least it won’t get even more tangled as he works. The smell of coffee always clings to Linhardt’s hair, like his personal brand of perfume. In reply, Linhardt sneezes into Caspar’s shoulder. “I fucking hate winter.” A pause. “It’s cold. I want to nap. And I’d happily never see another eggnog latte for as long as I live.” “Aw. C’mon, it’s not that bad, right?” Caspar asks hopefully. “You’re just being a drama queen because you have a cold?” “My blood is ninety percent honey citrus mint tea and cough syrup. And it’s not just a cold. I’m dying.” “Sure you are, babe. Sure you are.” Caspar kisses his head fondly. “You have half an hour and my undying attention. That makes things better. Right?”

When he doesn’t get a reply beyond the softest of snores, his heart melts and breaks and swells all at once. It’s the mark of someone being comfortable, when it only takes a moment for them to fall asleep in your arms or your lap. And it hurts to wake him, when their precious half-hour is up and he has to get back to work, red-eyed and disoriented. Petra takes pity on him, and sends him to do dishes.

If he takes the next day off, and spends it in bed watching Hallmark movies, with Caspar petting his hair and bringing him tea and toast and NyQuil, who is anyone to judge?

~~~

“A pink drink, Caspar? Really? I expected better from you.”

Nobody does disappointment quite like Ferdinand, nose wrinkled in disgust as he holds the cup at arm’s length. “I thought you were an adult.”

Caspar pouts and takes the cup for Caspie. He is going to kill Dorothea for that one, especially as he spots Linhardt’s smug smile. He’s been saving that one up ever since he overheard a tipsy conversation between them at Edelgard’s New Year’s party, one that involved Caspar “waxing positively lyrical”, apparently, about just how much he adores Linhardt. A drunk mind may speak sober thoughts, but drunk Caspar is a sap, and drunk Dorothea is a giggler who likes pet names.

He realises he hasn’t answered Ferdinand. “I am an adult. An adult who likes strawberries, and coconut, and uh, acai. Whatever that is.” “I like the pink drink!” Petra chirps, waving her own almost-empty cup. “And I like a man who is so sure of his masculinity that he isn’t afraid to drink something baby pink,” Linhardt adds between sips of what looks like an iced latte. Caspar narrows his eyes at him. “I thought you made a resolution to drink less caffeine this year. All it does is make you anxious, it doesn’t even keep you awake. You’re broken.” He sidles over to kiss Linhardt anyway. “It’s decaf!” his boyfriend protests. “No it’s not. Decaf lattes are lighter in colour.” “Fuck you, Ferdinand von Aegir.”

Caspar tugs at a lock of Linhardt’s hair where it’s come tumbling over his shoulder. “I’m just trying to look out for you, Lin. For your health. And perhaps a little for my own sanity because your caffeine crashes are fucking awful .” “I don’t have caffeine crashes. This stuff doesn’t even touch me,” Linhardt scoffs, then yelps and lunges for the cup that Caspar has snatched from under his nose. “Give it back!” “If it doesn’t affect you, why do you need it?” “I don’t need it, I…” Linhardt pouts. “I want it. My coffee. Please, Cas.” Ugh. Caspar is absolutely powerless when it comes to Linhardt’s pout and his kicked-puppy eyes and his whining. “Ugh. Fine. You’re hopeless.” “I’ll quit tomorrow?” Linhardt blinks at him, feigning innocence. “I really will?” “No, you won’t.” Caspar rolls his eyes. “I will! From tomorrow, no more caffeine.” “I dare you.”

To his credit, Linhardt lasts until just after lunchtime, head aching with the withdrawal. It takes falling asleep on a cafeteria bench before Caspar relents and drags him back to Starbucks on his day off. He orders a quad-shot espresso and drinks it without a pause, gazing intently at Caspar all the while.

“Never, ever take my coffee again.”

~~~

“Cas?”

Linhardt slips into the changing rooms long after all the other players have gone. He hates it in here, it smells like Axe and sweat and dirt, but Caspar didn’t show up in the stands with the others, so it falls to Linhardt to come and find his boyfriend. The game was close, but not close enough - getting knocked out of the running so close to the final was pretty brutal.

One of the showers is still running, and Linhardt stops in front of it, hand on his hip. “Caspar. I know you’re not still showering. Come out for me.” And then, softer, “Please?”

Caspar always takes the team’s losses as a personal loss. He relies too heavily on himself for the outcome of the games, the actions of his teammates. He may be a captain, but he likes to forget that he’s a human, too. “No. Go away.” “You aren’t made of sugar, as sweet as you are. You won’t dissolve under the hot water. And besides, it can’t still be hot.” “It’s f-fine…” The chatter of his teeth betrays him, and he turns off the water, the cold air of the locker room immediately assaulting his skin. His hair drips down his neck. Maybe this was a stupid thing to do. “Come out, Cas. Come on. It’s only me.”

The curtain twitches aside, and Caspar more or less tumbles right out, into the towel that Linhardt has already grabbed from his bag and proceeds to wrap tight around him. “That’s it. Well done.” Linhardt ignores how wet he is, and kisses his forehead. “You played beautifully. You always do.” “Not good enough,” Caspar sighs. “We suck. We got so close.” A bruise is blossoming across his cheekbone, and when he walks to where he left his clothes, the ankle that got twisted beneath a bad tackle leaves a slight limp in his step. He can feel Linhardt’s eyes on him, concerned, pitying, pained. “You don’t suck. You’ve worked so hard this season. You’ll get to the finals next year,” Linhardt tells him, far too much confidence in his voice, or so Caspar thinks. “Whatever.”

Caspar dresses quietly, and doesn’t complain when Linhardt pulls out his scarf, and gently winds it around his boyfriend’s neck, finishing the gesture with a kiss to his nose, then his lips. “You don’t have to comfort me,” he protests, but it’s weak. For once, he wants the comfort Linhardt always so willingly provides, so he lets his boyfriend zip up his jacket, and towel dry his damp hair even though, outside, he can hear that it’s beginning to rain. “I’m going to anyway,” Linhardt murmurs. “I always will.”

As soon as the fussing stops, Caspar buries himself in Linhardt’s chest, in his layers of wool and his vintage pea-coat, in his embrace. Linhardt holds him there, steadying him, until he’s ready to face the world.

“I brought you hot chocolate,” Linhardt remembers, when Caspar breaks the hug. “Although, it’s probably more like cold chocolate now.” A small smile flutters across Caspar’s face. “We can make more at your place?”

Some things in life are constant. Highs come with lows, wins come with losses. Linhardt comes with sweet hot drinks and the scent of freshly ground coffee in his curls. With icy hands, and holes in his sweater sleeves for his thumbs to poke through. With paper cups and heart-wrenching smiles, and most importantly? Linhardt comes with Caspar. Always.

[vernonfielding]

Life Writes Its Own Stories

Chapter 3! (And at AO3.)

Amy was deep in thought, eyes gone unfocused as she stared at her computer screen and tried to will a new lede to reveal itself, when a thunk to her forehead snapped her back to reality.

“Ow!” Amy looked up and found Gina already preparing another ball of paper, probably weighted with something like a rock, or an actual paper weight.

“I wasn’t trying to hit you. But I’m also not sorry that I did,” Gina said. She tossed the next ball, which Amy managed to duck. The third one hit her phone and knocked the headset off the receiver.

“What the hell, Gina?”

“I need to kill that horrible machine.” Gina launched another paper ball, which bounced an inch from the police scanner on Amy’s desk. “Oh, so close!”

“Knock it off,” Amy said. “I need that.”

“It’s distracting,” Gina said.

“Just ignore it. Everyone else does.”.

“No we don’t,” Charles called from across the newsroom.

“Come on! Every newsroom has a police scanner.” Amy glanced around at her coworkers, looking for a friendly face, and paused hopefully on Terry.

“It’s not 1985,” Terry said. “Just follow the news online like everyone else, Santiago.”

“You all are terrible journalists.” Amy grabbed the scanner and moved it to a more protected spot on her desk, right beside her hard copy of the Associated Press Stylebook and a stack of battered Yellow Pages.

She’d had no idea everyone else was bothered by the scanner. It spit out a constant stream of static and mumbled police jargon, but to Amy it was like white noise. She’d grown up around police scanners and had developed an innate ability to ignore them when nothing was happening and hone right in when the chatter got interesting. Apparently it was not a skill hardwired into all reporters.

“Why do you need that anyway?” Gina said, approaching Amy’s desk and snapping up the scanner. “Doesn’t your Deep Throat give you all your stories now?”

“He’s not my Deep Throat,” Amy said. She reached for her scanner and Gina pulled it away.

“Whatever, Bernstein.” Gina dropped the scanner in Amy’s trash can and walked away.

“And I’m not the Bernstein!” Amy called after her. “I’m totally the Woodward!”

Terry came up and plucked her scanner out of the trash, setting it back on her desk. “Just ignore her,” he said. “She’s always wanted a Deep Throat.”

In truth, Amy was secretly thrilled that she had a real-life “deep throat” in Peralta, even if their interactions weren’t nearly as cool as the ones from All the President’s Men. They hadn’t once met in a creepy parking lot after midnight. She didn’t have a gross but admittedly cool code name for him. And the tips he gave her weren’t exactly going to save democracy.

Still, he was texting her. Kind of a lot. And okay, most of it was immature and needling – he especially liked giving her a hard time when her stories were buried in the back of the paper or failed to get any traction on Twitter. But every now and then he’d pass on something useful.

It had started soon after the Poloski story ran. Peralta had texted her the next day to congratulate her, which she had taken as a polite way for him to acknowledge that he wasn’t mad at her for calling him. Then a week later he’d texted again, in response to a short story she’d written about a local bank robbery – he’d suggested that she ask if the latest robbery was connected to a series of thefts from the previous year, and sure enough, Scully confirmed they were. She hadn’t gotten on the front page, but it was information no other reporters had.

After that, the texts started coming more regularly. Often it was just feedback – or, more precisely, critical commentary. And it wasn’t always her articles. After Hitchcock wrote a piece about NYPD overtime expenses pulling money out of city programs for public health and homeless services, Peralta sent Amy a three-paragraph text asking whether he and his partner should have just clocked off at 5 when they were pursuing that serial stabber last year. Amy wrote back: “Send a letter to the editor.” Peralta replied with a zombie emoji.

A few times he texted about Gina’s columns, mostly to complain about her liberal use of anonymous sources – a critique that Amy privately agreed with. When Charles wrote an unsigned, negative review of Sal’s pizza in the Bulletin’s restaurant column, Jake demanded a retraction. She didn’t reply.

His comments on her stories tended to be more specific. Once, he texted her an hour before the print deadline to tell her she’d misspelled another detective’s name in a story he’d read online; she’d had time to fix it for the next day’s newspaper, saving herself an embarrassing correction. Another time he wrote that a headline on her story was obviously biased against cops, and though Amy had texted back “I don’t write the headlines,” she’d agreed with him, and asked Charles to revise it online.

They’d had one honest-to-goodness text fight. She’d written an article about two officers accused of threatening a man and forcibly removing him from his home during a robbery investigation. In his formal complaint, the man said the officers had been drunk, and the interactions he described made the officers look at best incredibly unprofessional, and at worst criminally derelict. The NYPD wouldn’t comment except to say that it was conducting an internal investigation.

“Those are good cops you just trashed,” Peralta wrote to her that night.

“Give me their side of the story and I’ll write it,” Amy texted back. She was crashed on her couch, exhausted after spending the day trying to track down the two officers for comment and arguing with Scully – who was either secretly brilliant at evading questions, or the most inept public information officer in all of the NYPD.

“You know I can’t do that,” Peralta texted.

“Then tell me what I’m supposed to do if no one will talk,” Amy wrote, stabbing at the letters.

“So its better to write a one-sided, inaccurate story than not publish at all? That’s crap.”

“”It’s,” Amy wrote, and immediately felt like an asshole.

Peralta texted back an eyeroll emoji, which she deserved.

“It’s my job to hold people in power accountable for their actions,” Amy wrote. “I’m not going to apologize for that. NYPD wants its side in the paper, they have to talk to me.”

She watched her screen as he worked on his reply.

“It’s not fair,” he wrote.

Amy thought for a moment and finally wrote, “No. It’s not.”

She didn’t hear from him for a few days after that and she thought maybe that was it. He’d probably figured out that he had way more to lose than gain by talking to her. Then, before she’d even gotten out of bed one morning, he texted a name and a link to a short item she’d written about a dead body found in the East River. And that was how Amy was the first to report that a highly placed mafia boss had been shot and killed, his body dumped in the water.

Two days later he gave her an exclusive on a Park Slope millennial family being arrested for dealing methamphetamine through a fake moms group.

(He also tipped her off to a Greenpoint storefront selling organic, gluten-free, sugar-free Twinkies, but Amy replied that wasn’t a crime. Peralta texted back a handcuffs emoji. She ended up writing the story for the features section. It went viral on Facebook.)

Eventually, Amy decided he needed a fake name in her contacts. She called him Pineapples – for some reason it just popped into her brain  – and every time a new message from him appeared on her screen, she felt a little jolt of adrenaline.

She told herself it was just the anticipation of the next big story.

+++

“And his name is…Pepper! Officer Pepper O’Pigeon. I’ll take questions now.”

Scully swept his hands toward the giant pigeon in question and a few of the littler kids at his side clapped politely. Amy sighed and turned off her voice recorder. One of the TV reporters weakly asked if Officer Pepper O’Pigeon was a boy or girl pigeon and Amy didn’t stick around for the answer.

Free of the clutch of reporters looking for a cheap and easy feature story for the day, Amy took one last glance around the scene. She’d come to this press conference against her better judgment mostly because it was being held at the 99th Precinct. Scully liked to shift these kinds of “community building” press conferences among the various precincts so they all got a share of positive media attention, and normally Amy skipped them. She’d told herself yesterday that she was coming to this one because the precinct was between her apartment and the Bulletin offices – it was just a stop along the way to work – but if she was honest, she’d come because she was hoping to spot Detective Peralta.

Now, she realized that had been dumb. There were no cops here at all except for Scully and two uniforms who looked so young they might well have been interns. Except she didn’t think the NYPD did interns. She’d have to look that up later.

Amy shoved her phone in her purse and headed back toward the subway, trying to decide if she should take the train the rest of the way in or just walk the mile and a half. She passed a coffee shop and the smell of fresh ground beans hit her brain like something illegal. She’d found herself out of coffee at home that morning and decided to try skipping it altogether, but clearly she was not meant for cold turkey. Amy neatly sidestepped into the coffee shop.

She recognized it immediately as a cop hangout. There were two uniforms in line at the register, and a couple of plain-clothes with badges snapped to their belts perched on stools at the front window. A parking patrol officer sat at a corner table with a newspaper – sadly, The Times – spread out before her.

Amy walked up to the register just as the uniforms finished ordering and asked for a large coffee with room. At the side counter, she reached for the nonfat milk to the far right, just as someone came up beside her and made a move for the full-fat in front of her.

“Excuse me-”

“Sorry-”

Amy glanced up and stopped, hand in midair. She stared into the wide, brown eyes of Detective Peralta.

“Detective-”

His eyes widened even more and he shook his head. Amy snapped her mouth shut. Peralta quickly looked back over his shoulder to the rest of the coffee shop, then turned and said under his breath, “We can’t talk.”

“Oh-”

“Here you go,” he said, in a slightly louder than necessary voice, and handed her the milk she’d been reaching for.

“Oh,” Amy said again. “Thanks. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Peralta darted a quick glance in her direction.

They topped off their drinks in silence, and Peralta left first. Amy followed a minute after, feeling dazed. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her face felt warm, like she was blushing. She looked toward the 99th Precinct when she stepped outside the coffee shop, but Peralta was nowhere in sight. Her heart sank, and Amy thought back to the panicked look on his face, and also the fact that he was actually much cuter than she’d remembered.

She glanced down the street toward the precinct one more time, then moved on in the opposite direction. She was definitely going to have to walk to work now, just to burn off this weird adrenaline rush. Amy pulled out her phone to check the time – and saw a text on the screen.

“Bailey Fountain. 20 min.”

Amy didn’t think twice. She spun on her heel and headed toward Prospect Park.

+++

Jake jogged most of the way down Flatbush toward the park, glancing at his cell phone as the trees came into view. He’d had to check in at the precinct before ducking out again, and it had taken him a few minutes to shake Rosa. She’d asked him outright why he was acting so weird and he’d said he was acting totally normal and she’d given him that terrifying eyebrow sneer and he knew he’d be answering more questions later. At least he’d have some time to devise answers.

He slowed to a walk as he crossed Plaza Street and stepped into the park proper, the hum of traffic now muffled by the trees. He looked around for Santiago as he climbed the steps toward the fountain, and spotted her right away, on the closest bench. He was ten minutes late, but he paused anyway, then stepped a few feet to his right, so he was partly behind a tree. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted a moment to watch her, before she knew he was there.

When he’d met her, very briefly, at the press conference a few weeks ago, he’d had just a few seconds to look at her and notice that she was cute. Now, as he walked the thin line between cop and creep and watched her from behind a tree, he had to admit that the Vulture was right: Santiago was hot. Except that wouldn’t have been the first word he’d use to describe her. She was, simply, beautiful. A woman who would catch his attention in a crowded bar or in line at the corner bodega, who would probably be as gorgeous in an evening gown as she would yoga pants and a hoodie.

At the moment, she was wearing a bright blue button-down shirt and black slacks, and her hair was down, part of it cascading over one shoulder and literally shimmering in the morning sunshine. He was standing close enough to see she had her phone in her hands and was typing on it, thumbs tapping away. She had her bag still slung over her shoulder and tucked into her side, which was sensible given how common purse snatches were in the park.

Though her head was bent to look at her phone, her back was straight, her shoulders squared, and she gave off a distinct ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe that Jake respected. But there was something about her that made him feel strangely precious toward her nonetheless – the pout of her lips, or the faint line between her eyebrows, some softness that he couldn’t quite articulate.

She looked up from her phone suddenly, and Jake neatly stepped out from the tree before she could catch him being a weirdo. He gave a little wave as he approached.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, as he sat beside her on the bench.

“It’s fine.” She set her phone in her lap and turned slightly toward him. “I’m sorry about, well, the whole not playing it cool thing at the coffee shop. I wasn’t expecting to see you there.”

“Right, the coffee shop across the street from a police precinct is a totally weird place to run into a cop,” Jake said, but he was grinning.

“I was expecting cops, but not my cop,” Santiago said, which caused Jake to snort-laugh.

“Oh, so I belong to you?”

“You know what I mean,” Santiago said with a hint of exasperation, though he could tell she was trying not to smile.

They lapsed into silence, the bubble of the fountain unnaturally loud to Jake. He wished he’d brought his coffee with him just so he’d have something to do with his hands. Beside him, Santiago was turning her phone over and over, until she finally seemed to realize what she was doing and stuffed it in her purse.

“So, what-”

“Look, I-”

They both stopped and laughed a little.

“You go,” Santiago said.

“I was just going to ask if there was something you wanted to talk about,” Jake said. “I mean, something in particular. I know I was the one who said we should meet here but I got the impression you had something on your mind. At the coffee shop.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, it was just a look on your face, like you were about to ask a question.”

“Oh.” Her eyes crinkled in bemusement. “Well, I guess I did. Only actually, no, it wasn’t a question. But I did have something I wanted to say. I mean, not like a speech or anything, just something that’s been on my mind lately.”

Jake bit his tongue to keep from teasing her about being flustered. Instead he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

Santiago pursed her lips and frowned for a moment, then turned to fully face him.

“I guess I just wanted to say thanks. For, you know, helping me out so much.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked him in the eye. “I know you’re putting your career on the line by talking to me, and meanwhile I’m getting all this credit at work. And there’s not really anything I can do to change that, I mean, short of offering you bribes, which would be totally unethical and I would never do. So, yeah, there’s nothing I can do, except just acknowledge what you’re doing and say thanks.”

She paused and took a deep breath. Jake stared into her eyes, which were sparkling in the sunlight. He realized he should probably say something in response.

“You’re welcome.” And then he thought over everything she had just told him, and he added, “But you’re not the only one benefitting. As much as it pains me to admit this – and believe me, it really, truly does – your articles have helped put away a few bad guys. That’s all I’m trying to do at the end of the day.”

Santiago offered him a small smile and shrugged. “I’m glad to hear that, but I still feel like I’m the only one really getting anything out of this relationship.”

Jake startled at that, and Santiago’s eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed.

“Transaction,” Santiago said, quickly. “I’m getting everything out of this transaction. Not a relationship. It’s a professional thing. Totally-”

“Transactional?” Jake supplied, when she trailed off.

Santiago nodded weakly, her whole face now glowing pink. He started laughing, and then found he couldn’t stop. Santiago buried her face in her hands, but when he was still laughing a minute later she slapped him on the shoulder, and then hit him a couple more times until he caught his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ve just never seen anyone blush that hard, that fast before.”

“I can’t help my physical reaction,” Santiago said, indignant.

“Title of your sex tape!”

“What?” Santiago’s forehead creased in confusion until she figured out what he meant, and then she hit him again. He just grinned back at her.

“I had no idea you were such an immature jerk,” Santiago said, but there wasn’t any real spite in her tone.

Still, he softened his smile. “It was only a matter of time.”

They fell into another silence, this one less tense. Jake thought again about what she’d said in her oddly poignant speech, turning the words over in his head. He turned to face her, leaning an elbow on the back of the bench.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “I haven’t had to deal with a lot of reporters firsthand, but from what I’ve seen they’re usually pretty useless. Like, getting stuff wrong and just being lazy, sometimes actually working against us.”

“Like with that story I did, on the drunk cops,” Santiago said.

Jake bristled – he hadn’t meant to accuse her of anything. “Not exactly. Look, I’m sorry I lost it with that story, but I know those guys, and they’re good cops.”

“I get it,” Santiago said. “I mean, I wish I could get all the facts too. I don’t like having to write only half the story.”

“And that’s the crazy part – I believe you.” Jake let them both sit with that a moment, and then he cleared his throat, feeling suddenly shy about oversharing. “Usually I just avoid journalists.”

Santiago chuckled. “You haven’t avoided me,”

“No,” Jake said. “Kind of the opposite, right? I guess trust you.”

She flashed a smile at that, then turned thoughtful. “Do you mind if I ask why?”

Jake shrugged, and thought it over. “That first time, I was just pissed about what was happening with that asshole cop who’d killed his ex, and I wanted to tell someone. And you were there.”

Santiago gave a short laugh. “Thanks, that makes me feel so special.”

“But then,” he said, grinning at her, “you wrote that story and it actually worked, and you wrote the next one and that helped too. And I guess I realized – we were kind of on the same side.”

He paused and bit his lip, unsure whether he should say more. He looked off in the distance, at the fountain water sparkling in the sunshine. “I like helping people. And I like doing it with you.”

Jake could feel Santiago staring at him, but when he looked over she ducked her head as she smiled. She was blushing again.

“Title of your sex tape?” she said.

Jake doubled over laughing.

+++

Amy had a literal spring in her step as she jogged down the stairs to the subway to head into the newsroom. She was hardly even surprised when her train happened to arrive just as she got to the platform – it felt like the kind of day for pleasant coincidences – and she smiled to herself as she climbed on with a few other passengers and found an open seat halfway down the car.

Talking with Peralta had been unexpectedly exhilarating. For a moment she’d been taken aback by how attractive she found him – the mess of curly hair, the tech-bro hoodie, the scuffed sneakers, and what looked like a honey-mustard stain on his plaid shirt wouldn’t usually add up to her type. But there was something charming and easy about him, in his smile and his eyes that practically glowed with warmth. She’d blushed more times with him on that bench in 20 minutes than she could recall in all of the previous year. But it had been a good kind of blush, the kind that came from friendly teasing and not embarrassment or shame.

And in between the sex-tape jokes and the laughter at her expense, she’d been genuinely touched by what he’d said about trusting her. Trust was a journalist’s most valuable commodity, and it was something Amy knew had to be earned, more in this day and age than ever before. That she’d earned it from him – someone she’d already decided was smart and decent, whom she trusted too – was wonderful.

He’d even given her another tip, just before they wrapped up their impromptu rendezvous.

“I can’t vouch for this one personally,” he said. “I’m not involved. I’ve just heard some stuff like, third-hand.”

“That’s all right,” Amy said, as she dug through her purse for her pen and notebook. “It’s actually easier for me to ask questions if I don’t have to worry about protecting my source’s identity.”

He flicked up his eyebrows in surprise.

“What?” Amy said. “I mean, I’ll still be careful.”

“No, of course.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I guess I just didn’t realize how much thought you might have to put into protecting me.”

There had been something in his tone of voice, almost timid, that made him seem suddenly vulnerable. It had sent a jolt of what Amy could only describe as affection straight to her gut.

On the subway, Amy pulled out her notebook and read over the notes she’d jotted down from Peralta. He was right, his information was more rumor than fact, and it would take a lot of digging to prove it.

What he’d heard was that corrections officers at the Brooklyn Detention Center were sometimes covertly recording confidential conversations between inmates and their lawyers, then sharing those recording with the district attorney’s office. If it was true, that was a major civil rights violation.

The city’s jails were overseen by the Department of Correction, not the NYPD, but Peralta said that aside from being appalled by the abuse of prisoners’ rights, he and other detectives were worried that the correction officers were putting their NYPD cases in jeopardy.

Amy took some more notes as the subway rumbled through the tunnels, writing a list of questions she’d need to ask and sources she’d need to contact. This story would take some major reporting, which meant she was going to have to ask Terry for permission to step back from her daily crime-writing duties. She flipped a page in her notebook and started crafting a memo for him, detailing why the story was important and what she’d need to report and write it.

By the time she got to the newsroom, Amy was feeling pumped. She stopped by Terry’s desk before she even went to her own and told him she had a big story and would send him details right away. She’d emailed her memo by noon.

“Charles,” she said, picking up her purse and marching over to his desk. “I’m feeling brave today. Let’s get lunch – you choose.”

+++

Amy’s good mood lasted through lunch; she hadn’t actually thrown up from the sheep-muzzle soup, after all.

But she was instantly wary when she saw who was waiting at her desk when she returned. Gina sat slouched in Amy’s own chair, flipping through the notebook that Amy hadn’t realized she’d left on her desk. Amy took a moment to berate herself for leaving the newsroom without a notebook, then braced herself for Gina.

“What’s up?” Amy said, trying to play it casual.

“I hear you’ve got a big story.”

“Maybe. Holt hasn’t signed off on it.” Amy stared down at Gina, who just smirked back up at her. “Can I have my desk back now?”

“Is this another one from your little tipster? You’re getting a reputation, you know.” Gina snapped shut Amy’s notebook but made no move to get up.

Something in Gina’s tone made Amy’s hackles rise, and she planted her hands on her hips and said, “What do you mean by ‘reputation’?”

Gina just smirked some more. Amy could feel the anger pooling in her stomach and she was gearing up to lay into her about how entirely unprofessional, unacceptable and just plain mean it was to accuse a reporter of exchanging sexual favors for information when Gina burst out laughing.

“Girl, I’m kidding,” she said, and tossed Amy’s notebook on her desk.

“You- what?”

“Look, honestly, I’m pretty impressed you’ve developed such a good source so fast. It took me twice as long to get my first and I’m at least four times as attractive as you.” Amy just gaped at her as Gina stood up and gave her a little punch in the shoulder. “Seriously, if you need any help working this one, let me know. I’ve got some contacts at Brooklyn Detention. Most of the guards hate me but the ones who like me love me.”

“Er, thanks,” Amy said. “I mean, I still don’t know if Holt’s going to-”

“Oh, he will.”

And as if on cue, Holt called out from his office, “Santiago. Jeffords.”

Gina winked and sashayed back to her desk. Amy stood staring after her, mind reeling from the Linetti roller coaster, until Terry walked up and took her by the elbow.

“C’mon,” he said, “our captain calls.”

“Right,” Amy said, shaking her head. She grabbed her notebook and a pen, and followed Terry.

Holt hadn’t actually been with the Bulletin for much longer than Amy, and his office was largely bare of the personal knick-knacks and ethically acceptable gifts that most journalists seemed to hoard – though whether that was because he was still new or he just wasn’t the type to collect stuff, Amy couldn’t have said. She and Terry took seats opposite Holt’s desk, and he folded his hands over what Amy assumed was a printout of her memo. She was surprised he’d not only read it already, but was ready to discuss it with her.

Holt tapped a finger on the top page. “These are some serious allegations.” 

“Yes, they are,” Terry said. Amy forced herself not to fidget.

“And you don’t have much proof of anything, is that correct?” He was looking right at Amy, so she nodded.

“No, sir,” she said. “Not yet.”

“Proving this is going to take some extensive reporting – public records requests, interviews with inmates. You’re going to need someone with actual information to go on the record,” Holt said.

“Yes.” Amy nodded again. “Um, Gina, she said she might have some contacts for me. And I know a couple people in the public defender’s office.”

Holt studied her for a long moment, and she fought the urge to bounce a leg or wring her hands. Amy understood why he was hesitating – to get this story, she’d have to take a break from her regular police beat, which would put pressure on the rest of the staff to cover for her. Stories like this one were an investment of time and people and, therefore, money, and a newspaper like the Bulletin didn’t have much of any of that.

And on top of that, Amy was a rookie. She hadn’t even been a journalist for more than a few months, and this would be her first big investigation. A few big scoops in recent weeks were marks in her favor, but she knew she hadn’t proven herself yet, not really.

“Your source on this, you trust him? Or her?” Holt said.

Amy nodded at once. “I do.”

“Very well,” Holt said. “You have three weeks.”

Amy clenched her jaw to keep from screaming with joy, and nodded her head in quiet acknowledgement. Outside Holt’s office, Terry gave her a high-five.

“Pressure’s on now, Santiago.”

Amy’s stomach was already in knots and her pits were starting to sweat, but she said, seriously, “Pressure’s what I eat for breakfast.”

She ignored Gina’s snicker and the paper airplane that hit the back of her head.

CHAPTER 4

[anvils-and-dynamite]

On Tooniness: on what makes a cartoon (and any other media) “toony”

I didn’t expect to whip up a ramble so soon but I feel like I should go more in depth about what this blog is about and what it’s trying to achieve, so in this post I’ll attempt to define and describe the essence of what is a “toon”.

This might get a bit too long so I spoilered it for your convenience. I am by no means an expert on this kind of stuff, so if you’d like to present any counter-arguments, ask questions or discuss further what I’m going to talk about, feel free to do so in the comments, via PM or private chat.

“Toon” is a word associated with the animated media, often used to describe cartoon characters or characters drawn in a particular cartoony style (which is the case of, for example, The Legend of Zelda or Yu-Gi-Oh).

Beyond these definitions, there is also a tendency to stereotype the concept of a cartoon itself drawing from features and characteristics from early animated works from the 30s-40s, such as early Mickey Mouse works, Betty Boop and Looney Tunes. I think the best example I can come up with is this bit from Ed Edd n Eddy, an already very "toony” cartoon (jump to 9:47)

However, this essay argues that there is more to “tooniness” than certain design cues; that, beyond the white gloves, Pacman-shaped eyes and grayscale palette, there’s a series of principles that makes any kind of media (not just animated!) feel truly “toony”. While we also appreciate “toony” designs and overall aesthetic, this essay aims to go beyond mere aesthetic and try to identify what is “toony” in any kind of media’s presentation.

The whole purpose of this blog is, as its own description states, to celebrate “the tooniest of cartoons”; and, in order to achieve that, we find necessary to identify the core features of “tooniness”. We believe these core features are three, and, because this is toons we’re talking about, we’ve took the liberty to make their names alliterate: slapstick, sillyness, surrealness.

Slapstick

Let me begin this section by quoting one of my personal favourite quotes about toons: “See, your mother was right - cartoons are filled with senseless violence!” (Toon: The Cartoon Roleplaying Game, p.24).

Wikipedia defines slapstick as the following:  “a style of humor involving exaggerated physical activity which exceeds the boundaries of normal physical comedy.” In other words, slapstick is a form of physical comedy characterized by an exaggeration of violence and misfortune.

The animated medium lends itself well to physical comedy in general, since the latter relies on exaggeration (not only of violence, but also of expression, gesture...) and the former allows it to exaggerate it even further, beyond what a live-action actor can do.

Same can be said for slapstick, even to the point that several “toony” cartoons are based around slapstick comedy (Tom & Jerry and Wile. E. Coyote & The Roadrunner are the first ones to come to mind) and only have the bare bones of a plot, yet they are still successful and well-regarded.

In short, “toon” media has been associated, since the beginnings of animation, with physical comedy, and especially slapstick since the 40s. This doesn’t mean that toony cartoons cannot have other kinds of humor (such as dialogue-based, wordplay, referential...) but the qualities of the animation medium make it especially suitable for physical comedy and visual humor. Hell, this blog wouldn’t be called the way it is if one of the stereotypical characteristics of a “cartoony” cartoon wasn’t slapstick with falling anvils and exploding dynamite.

Silliness

noun The quality of being silly; foolishness; senselessness; weakness of understanding; extreme simplicity; absurd or contemptible folly.

(and now I realize I’ve been misspelling “silliness” all this time whoops)

While many of these adjectives fit toon media, let me get this out first: silliness does NOT mean toon media is necessarily lighthearted or even funny, but it is true that there is a sense of “happy-go-lucky” in it. This can be especially seen in Betty Boop shorts such as “Bimbo’s Initiation”, “Swing You Sinners” and “M.D.” (aka “the Jippo one”)

I’m not linking because Tumblr likes to mess up with my text if I insert another video. They’re on youtube, feel free to give them a watch before continuing.

You can see these three in particular handle pretty dark topics (cults, “I’m going to hell” kind of guilt... Hell, in the third one Betty Boop & friends straight up kill a man with snake oil!) yet, they there’s plenty of singing and dancing. It might be creepy, but it doesn’t give a “gritty” vibe: if anything, the fact that these subjects are handled in such a playful way makes it even more shocking and creepier. I think “happy go lucky” is the right term for that. The toon character approaches the world it lives in with curiosity, and no matter what horrible things they get put through in an episode, they’ll be in tip-top shape in the next one (non-linearity between episodes really helps with that). However, the defining name for this quality is “silliness” because another relevant philosophy that goes hand-to-hand with “happy-go-lucky” is that the toon media doesn’t take itself seriously. It acknowledges it’s silly, absurd and non-sensical and runs wild with it. And why is it so silly?

Surrealness

I found several definitions of “surreal” and they all agree on the following: what is surreal is fantastic, incongruous, and dream-like. This is the term we’ve chosen to define what is perhaps the most important characteristic of “tooniness”

Toons are not realistic, and they barely attempt to be. The toon world is loosely based on reality as to let its audience have something to hang on, and from that point, it goes wild. Characters act and talk exaggeratedly without caring for what’s considered socially appropiate, emotions and thoughts manifest in ways that could not be possible in reality (no hearts, no shoulder angels), and nonsensical things happen all the time (such as objects coming to life, gravity playing tricks or the infamous falling anvil).

This disregard for reality is what allows toon media to handle any kind of theme in its characteristic playful nature (silliness) and, together with the medium of animation, allow physical comedy to extend beyond the boundaries of reality (slapstick): because “toon” revels in its own status as fiction, and, as a child of animation, attempts to show us what a camera can’t (if someone can remind me where this quote came from, thanks).

I hope that, with this essay, I established the main characteristics of how toon media presents itself. As I mentioned before, I’m up for discussion on this and you can contact me via PM or chat. I will also reply to comments in reblogs!

[rosecorcoranwrites]

Editing Advice Part 4: Copyediting

Now that you have checked your WIP for continuity, addressed every plot hole, and finished all rewrites, it's time to put on the final touches by copyediting!

Now, just to be clear, the term "copyediting" usually refers to when an editor, not the writer, reads the manuscript looking for errors, and it actually does include a lot of continuity editing and fact checking. But this series is for writers editing their own work before another soul reads it (regardless of if the work will then be self-published or sent out to agents and editors). It is my belief that, for a writer, continuity editing should come long before the final stage of the editing process. Thus, for our purposes, I'm going to use "copyediting" to refer to correcting errors in grammar, spelling, punctuation, and other such things.

Obviously, this involves going through your manuscript with a fine-toothed comb, on the lookout for misspellings and typos. However, there are a few items to especially  watch for, roughly broken down into the categories of spelling; grammar, usage, and style; and punctuation, spacing, and everything else.

Spelling

Spelling of made-up or unusual words: If you write fantasy or sci-fi, odds are you're using at least a few words that don't exist in the regular lexicon. Make sure you use consistent spelling for these. This is especially true for different forms of said words. For example, I chose to spell "Lesse" in Lesse's Moor with and "e" at the end, which is easy to remember. Yet, when spelling the adjectival form of that word, I used either an "e" or "a": Lesserian and Lessarian. I had to choose one to use throughout. This goes for non-made-up words as well. "Empyreal" of the Empyreal Palace is a real word (it means celestial), but it's not like I've known how to spell it from my youth, so I still had to double check it every time I came across it to make sure it was spelled correctly.

British vs American spelling: If you spend a lot of time reading books from across the pond, you might have picked up some foreign spellings. As a child, I would always spell "gray" as "grey", because I liked it better, and to this day, that spelling sneaks into my writing from time to time. There are many such words in the English language that you should watch out for.

Hyphens: Make sure that you know which words are hyphenated, and that they are always hyphenated in your manuscript. Pay attention to height and ages: "six-foot tall",  "four-year-old" and so on. Keep consistent for made-up words as well. Will you use "mechano-magical" or "mechanomagical"? Whichever you choose, you have to use that spelling every time.

Homophones and similar words: You might think that this is dumb to mention, since you, of course, know the difference between all the homophones in the world, but that's irrelevant. I know the difference too, yet I mix them up all the time in my writing. Some people picture the spellings of words even as they speak, and I am not one of them. I know the difference between "their", "they're", and "there" like the back of my hand; I still write the wrong one about a third of the time. Why? Because when I write, I'm picturing how the words sound and, moreover, how the scene looks, not how the text will appear on the page. That's what copyediting is for. You can Google lists of commonly misspelled or mixed-up words, or write down your own list if you have certain words you personally get confused.

Grammar, Usage and Style

Subject-verb agreement: By the time you're at this stage of editing, your manuscript is likely a Frankenstein's monster of sewn-together old drafts, and that tends to lead to some weird grammar. Make sure your subjects and verbs agree. That means that if the subject is plural—they, policemen, the dragons, or whatever—the verb has to be one you use on plurals—were, know, have eaten. If the subject is singular—he, a policeman, the dragon—the verbs similarly have to match—was, knows, has eaten. If you're not too keen on grammar, read it out loud and see if it sounds right; even if you don't know all the proper grammatical phraseology, you know English and you'll be able to pick up on errors that you hear.

Writing out numbers or not: Generally speaking, for narrative prose, you should write out the numbers zero through one hundred. For larger numbers, 101 to infinity, you can use numerals, but some guides suggest that numbers ending in two or more zeros should also be written out: two hundred, five million, etc. But I think you can get away with writing out larger numbers as well, like three hundred seventy-three; it looks nicer to me. Whatever you choose to do with larger numbers, stay consistent. Special numbers like years and addresses, however, should be written in numerals: 221 B. Baker Street, 1984, etc.

Capitalization of titles of people: Obviously, if the the title comes right before the persons name, and is thus part of their name, it's capitalized: Queen Delilah, Doctor Mario, Professor Moriarty, President Coolidge. But what about when the title is by itself? Well, it depends on how you're using it. If the title is used to address the person, it's capitalized: "You saved his life, Doctor!" or "Well, Professor, it looks like your theory was wrong." Obviously special title have special addresses which are obviously capitalized: Your Majesty, Mr. President, etc. If, on the other hand, you are talking about the person, or the office in general, it's not (usually) capitalized: "The professor is getting on my nerves!", "That doctor is a quack", "The president has to be an American citizen". However, for certain fancier offices, if you are talking about a particular holder of that office, you do capitalize it. Now, I found a few competing sources on this, but from what I could figure, the only titles that work this way are Pope, King, Queen. Again, you have to be referring to a very specific person to do this: "The Queen has been slain!" "The Pope blessed the travelers". Some sources also said this could be done for the president's of countries, but other said not to, so... I guess pick which way you'll do it an stay consistent.

Punctuation, Spacing, and Everything Else

Extra spaces: Get rid of 'em. This included two spaces after a period (for us old people who learned that that was the correct way to type!) as well as space at the end of paragraphs, between two words, and so on.

Missing punctuation: Don't forget commas after opening phrases like "Well, you see..." or "Of course, I'd never say that," or when separating a name when being addressed: "Are you ok, Constance?". Double check that every paragraph has a period or closing quotation marks; somehow, these seem to disappear on me and I've never figured out why.

Smart quotes, … vs ..., and m-dashes: This is almost getting into formatting territory, but I'm going to include it here anyway. Depending on what word processor you use to write your WIP, there might be some differences in how certain characters are automatically formatted. For example, some programs will turn quotation marks ( " " ) into smart quotes, i.e., one that wrap toward the text and have different opening and closing characters ( “ ” ). Something similar happens to ellipses, which may be typed as three periods (...) but turned into a single character (…). Finally, there is the m-dash, that long dash used in a way similar to a colon. When you type it by itself, it typically looks like two dashes (--), but if you type a letter, then two dashes, then another letter with no spaces between, it turns into a single character (—). I'm in favor of all of these automatic changes, as they look nicer, but depending on where you typed what part of my WIP, they don't always happen. It's a good idea to go though your manuscript and add them in, or set your word processor to change them automatically.

Personal foibles: Finally, know thyself. Are there weird mistakes that you always tend to make? I myself tend not to use question marks (they are a silly punctuation mark and ought not exist!). I have to be careful to check that all of my questions are, in fact, marked as such. Maybe you tend to spell one particular word incorrectly, or are really bad at using commas. Know your weaknesses and make an effort to fix them while writing and catch them while editing.

Tips to Make Life a Little Easier

The greatest tip I can give you is to embrace your Find and Find/Change or Find/Replace functions of your word processor. You'll find these in your edit menu.

Find should be used to check homophones and commonly misspelled words. When editing, I'll Find the word "its" and go through my entire document to check each instance of this word to make sure it should not be "it's". then, I do the reverse, searching every instance of "it's" to make sure it should not be "its". I do this for each of the words that I, personally, confuse. Know thyself; if you never confuse "it's" with "its", don't bother checking it, but if you know that you often confuse "principal" and "principle", use the Find function. You can also use this to Find quotation marks and replace them with smart quotes if your word processor doesn't have the option to replace all quotation marks with smart ones at once.

And then there is my favorite, Find/Change. This should also be found in your edit menu, sometimes with the "Find..." feature and sometimes as a separate "Replace..." option. What Find/Change allows you to do is enter in some word, like, say, "Lessarian" and replace every instance of it with a new word, like "Lesserian". I use this to do a quick fix of made-up words and British to American spellings. I also use this if I have changed character and place names, so that I can replace every instance of, say, "Robert" with "Brother Roberto". It's also useful for catching double spaces, as you can Find "  " (two spaces) and Replace them with " " (one space). You can also replace two dashes with an m-dash or the three-character ellipsis with a single character ellipsis.

And with that, you'll have a sparkly new manuscript, ready for the eyes of agents, publishers, or—should you go the self-published route—your readers. Speaking of which, you self-pub peeps out there might need a bit of advice on formatting and proofreading. I just so happen to have some such advice! But it will take some doing (mostly in the form of screen shots), so that post will have to wait for a while. In the meantime, get to work polishing that manuscript! If you come across some weird editing issue and need particular advice, my email, Facebook messenger, and Tumblr asks and messenger are always open. Happy editing!

[silverfootstepswrites]

Equinox: Fall [1]

Chapter 1 (here) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

The fragrance of autumn was heavy in the air when Sakura pulled into town. More accurately, she pulled up in front of the sign she guessed said the name of the town. She used the flashlight on her phone to get a better look. She jolted when she felt something crawling up her leg. But when the light angled across the ground, she saw that it was just a log that she had brushed up against.

“This is how all the horror movies start. I’m out in the woods and-” Sakura cut herself off as she swatted at the air. “Mosquitoes!” She hissed as she flapped both her hands in the air, trying to chase away the bugs. Huffing, she stomped her way back to her car. Shutting the door, she popped her phone back into the mount. She restarted the engine. Her headlights cut two beams of light onto the empty road. 

Sakura listened to the dirt and rocks crackle under her tires as her car rolled along. Her eyes darted all around the dark forest. Trees always had a way of creeping her out. Maybe it was the way things could hide so easily in those odd, twisted shadows. Just as she began to wonder whether she had taken a wrong turn, she glimpsed another sign. This one read ‘Welcome to Old Pines’.

The road eventually left the forest. She had smelled the saltwater even from the highway. But now she could see that the town sat on cliffs above the ocean. The road hugged the edge of the cliff, separated from a rocky plummet by a flimsy wooden barrier. 

It wasn’t difficult to find the sheriff’s home. His email had done a good job of guiding her to his place. It was a two-story house with a huge tree in the front yard. She could see round fruit hanging from the branches. Apples, she guessed. Although it was hard to tell in the dark. The lights were on in the house, windows glowing gold. 

Sakura left her car idling as she walked down the path to the house. A dog began barking somewhere nearby. After a moment, deeper barking answered. And then farther away, more barking responded. Almost like a chain of messages being sent into the distance. Sakura rang the doorbell, sticking her hands in the pockets of her jacket. 

After a moment, the door swung open. The light from inside almost blinded her. It took her a moment to adjust. And then she saw a man in maybe his early-forties standing there. 

He wore grey sweatpants and a t-shirt. A pug peered out from behind his leg. 

“Hi. I’m Sakura,” she introduced herself.

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh. Wasn’t expecting you until the morning. That was quick,” he responded. A second nose poked out from behind his leg, sniffing at the air. Then a third. 

“Kakashi. I try to make sure the town doesn’t go up in flames,” he then said, holding his hand out to her. Sakura shook it. 

“Seems like you’re doing a good job. I haven’t seen smoke yet,” replied Sakura. He chuckled in response. 

“Give me a second. I’ll get my phone and then I’ll show you to your place,” Kakashi told her.

“Oh! You don’t have to. I have the address. I just wanted to say hi in person,” Sakura called after him as he headed down the hall. One of the dogs followed him, but the other two stayed by the door, staring up at her. 

“It’s easy to get lost in the dark, especially since you don’t know the roads!” he called back. And then his head poked out into the hallway. “This is to help me sleep well tonight,” he added. And Sakura couldn’t really find a way to argue with that. 

She followed his jeep down the winding path. It was just one turn to the right. But she couldn’t help but agree that she would’ve missed the turn-off and circled around for a while. She thought she saw eyes watching from the woods a few times, but they disappeared when she tried to look closer.

The road trailed off into a dead end. To the left sat a cabin. It was a little taller than she had expected. Sakura saw movement and turned her attention to the jeep in front. Kakashi’s hand dangled out the window, pointing to the left, in the direction of the driveway. And then he waved her along. 

Her little red sedan had no trouble navigating. Leaves covered the gravel, but it was level. She had expected potholes and dirt roads in a small town like this. But it had been a smooth drive all the way through. Kakashi’s headlights flooded the inside of her car as he pulled up behind her. Sakura cut the engine and stepped outside. 

“I’m guessing that Genma gave you the run-down when you bought his place?” asked Kakashi, tilting his head back to look at the place. 

“Rented, not bought. And yeah. Don’t pet the raccoons. Don’t leave raw meet lying around,” Sakura listed. 

“Good. Genma moved out not too long ago so the place shouldn’t be in bad shape. If there’re any issues, I can help you sort ‘em out in the morning,” Kakashi told her. And then he eyed her car. 

“You need any help carrying anything inside?” he offered. Sakura slapped her trunk, shaking her head. 

“Just a couple bags. The moving truck should be here tomorrow,” she said. Kakashi lingered for a moment. 

“Are you sure you’re alright on your own?” he questioned. Because it was an old, empty house sitting on the edge of the woods. Sakura understood. But she nodded. 

“I’ll be fine. If anything...” Sakura held up her hand, thumb and pink fingers extended. She mimed holding them up to her ear. 

Kakashi clicked his tongue as he pointed at her. “Gotcha. You have a good night,” he replied. Sakura stood in the driveway, arms crossed as she watched him back out. He paused to wave at her once before he headed back down the road. The absence of those blinding headlights plunged the place into deep, abrupt darkness. 

“Alright. Not getting mauled by a bear tonight,” Sakura muttered to herself as she popped the trunk open. She moved as fast as she could, even as she told herself ‘I’m a grownass woman’ over and over again.

The inside of the house echoed. She dropped her bags at the entrance and headed out to her car to grab the two plastic totes in her trunk. She slammed the trunk shut, hit the lock button twice. And then ran as fast as she could back to the house. The porch was screened-in. The outer door had a lock, which she promptly fastened. And then she locked the inner door when she stepped back inside. 

The house was surprisingly open on the inside. There was a loft tucked up on the second floor. The fireplace sat on the right, by the entrance, a little dusty but otherwise sturdy-looking. Sakura tested the light switches as she walked through the place. The bulbs were a little fluorescent for her taste, but they would do for now. 

After some thought, Sakura spread her sleeping bag out on the loft. The floor was hard, and the house creaked at odd times. It took a while for her to fall asleep. But when she did, it was to the symphony of crickets chirping outside.

Sakura woke to a text from Kakashi, who was checking to see whether she had survived the night. She typed back a groggy reply, misspelling half the words in her stupor. He probably got the gist anyway.

She crawled out of her sleeping bag and forced her body into the bathroom to wash up. As she pulled a sweatshirt over her head, her phone buzzed. It was the moving company letting her know that they were on their way with her stuff. Which, unfortunately, included her coffee maker. And she wasn’t really willing to wait that long. 

Sakura slapped on some half-hearted makeup before she ventured out of her house. She looked up nearby coffee shops, praying as she scrolled through the results. She nearly cried with joy when she saw that there was a place that served coffee. A town without a real coffee shop was the true nightmare scenario. 

She decided to walk. To her surprise, a black dog appeared halfway down the road. The only thing that let her know that it wasn’t a normal dog was the way its tail ended in wisps of smoke. She hesitated. She had a good idea of who it was, but she didn’t exactly know how to react.

“....Oh.... hello?” she called out. 

The dog tilted its head.

“I’m going to get coffee,” she told the dog. 

And the dog turned to trot down the road. She somehow had the feeling that she was expected to follow. So she did. 

She had heard about church grims before. They normally roamed church graveyards to chase off grave robbers and vandals. She had never seen one in person before. The spectral black dog was just a shade too dark to be a regular hound. Almost like it had been colored with ink when everything around it was filled in with colored pencil.

The cafe came into view down the road a few minutes later. There were too many wind chimes hung out front. The high-pitched clanging was irritating even from this far away. 

The shape of the black dog blurred. When Sakura blinked, the dog’s silhouette changed. Jaws and skull shifting. Black fur receding and lightening. And in the end, Kakashi stood there in a dark green jacket. He held the door open for her. A few blades of grass stuck to his pants. He brushed them off as she moved past. 

Sakura could smell the fairy dust as soon as she stepped into the little cafe. Fairy magic was sweet. It hung in the air, shimmering like bits of glitter suspended from the ceiling. 

The walls were covered with what looked like real ivy. Smooth, jazzy music played from a speaker somewhere. A woman leaned over the counter. Her hair was silvery-blonde, like corn silk. She perked up when Kakashi turned to her. And her whole face lit up when she spotted Sakura.

“This is Ino. She’s fairyfolk,” Kakashi said.  

The second part of the introduction was a little unnecessary. What with the pointed ears and the faint glimmer of green wings behind her. She extended her hand, smiling with her teeth that were almost too white. Sakura shook her hand.

“Sakura,” she replied. She could feel Ino staring at her. More than appraising her. Because she felt the little tug at the corner of her awareness. And after a while, Ino leaned forward, eyes gleaming. 

“My glamour isn’t working on you at all. But you’re not fairy...” Ino questioned. 

“Siren,” Sakura corrected her.

Ino’s grin widened. “Fab. You visiting?” she asked. 

“She’s renting from Genma starting today,” Kakashi answered for her. And then he added, “You got any scones?” 

“Fresh from the oven. And iced coffee, one sugar for you?” replied Ino, pushing off the counter. 

“How did she...?” Sakura wondered. But she stopped herself. Kakashi rested his elbow on the counter. Hand in his chin.

“Fairies,” was all he said.

“Yeah.”

The moving truck rumbled into town a couple hours later. By then, the caffeine had done a good job of waking Sakura up. She had managed to scrub down the floors when the truck pulled into the driveway. Two brothers climbed out of the truck, like mirror images of each other.

“You’re late!” Sakura scolded, hands on her hips. 

“Sorry. Sorry,” one of them said, moving around the back to open up the truck. His twin headed over to her to plant a big, noisy kiss on her cheek. She tried to push him away by the face, but he still managed to mess up her hair. 

“Sakon, you asshole!” she scolded. She shoved his shoulder as he turned away from her. Sakon snickered as he stomped down the stairs. His brother elbowed him as he walked past. Ukon, carrying a cardboard box on his hip, paused to tweak Sakura’s nose before he left the box on the porch. 

“You’re the asshole, you know. Why is all your stuff so heavy?” Sakon called, peering around the side of the truck. 

“You break any of the equipment in there and I’ll kill you” she threatened. Grunting, Sakon struggled with something inside. And then he let out a sigh. There was a ripping noise and then wind gusted out. He backed out of the truck, leathery black wings spread from his shoulders. His arms had transformed, black and muscular. Ending in sharp talons. 

He easily lifted the huge box. Instead of walking, he gave a powerful flap of his wings to glide over to the porch. His wings folded up behind him so he could fit through the door. 

“Move,” grunted Ukon, shoving past him. His eyes turned gold, hands and arms blackening too as he moved toward the truck. 

The gargoyle brothers managed to lug all of Sakura’s things into the house without much trouble. She did a little nagging and managed to get them to even move the boxes into the appropriate rooms. The trickiest part of the whole ordeal was trying to get the biggest bookshelf up the stairs to the loft. In the end, the twins each grabbed one end of the shelf and flew it up over the railing, Sakura directing them away from light fixtures like the bad conductor of an orchestra. 

They stayed for a beer, but then both of them were checking their phones. 

“We’re pretty busy today. Sorry, Bunny,” Ukon told her as she took the empty bottles from them. 

“Okay,” she replied, walking them to the door. 

Sakon lingered on the patio steps, turning to look at her. 

“I’m not that far from the city. Come visit me,” Sakura said to both of them.  Sakon avoided her gaze. But he shoved his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet as he nodded. 

Ukon smiled. “You know we can’t say no to you.” 

Suddenly, Sakon’s chin jerked up. His eyes scanned the woods that grew up to the edge of the property. The nails on his right hand sharpened into talons as he twisted around. 

“Sakon?”

After a long moment, his talons softened back into nails. 

“Lock your doors at night, Bunny,” Sakon warned her. 

Sakura spent her second night in Old Pines assembling furniture. She would have been more worried about Sakon’s parting words if she didn’t have a few trinkets placed around the house. Chains of little silver bells hung above the front and back doors. A cluster of dried four-leaf clovers dangled from a red thread at one of the kitchen windows. On the center of the mantel sat a big pinecone. 

Her friends in the city had always chalked up these little things to an eclectic sense of decor. They thought it was cute that she kept a sachet of mugwort and lavender by her pillow when she slept. Poked at the shining peridots that dangled from her curtain rods with comments like “pretty”.

Sakura took a sip of her wine before she returned her attention to finding the right screw. It took some head-scratching and she had to read the instructions three times. But she managed to assemble the bookcase with all the parts in the right place. 

She pushed it up against the wall, to the left of the fireplace. Hands on her hips, she looked at the stack of boxes next to the sofa. And then she checked her watch. 

“Tomorrow,” she decided. She grabbed her tools and left them on top of the boxes. Tripping over a hammer in the dark would be an unpleasant experience, to say the least. 

She washed up and changed into some old, faded clothes. She set her laptop on the right side of her bed and flopped down beside it. Pillow between her legs, she scrolled through her email and then checked her Twitter feed one last time before headed to Netflix. Screen dimmed, volume turned down low, she kept her eyes open for as long as she could before she drifted off to sleep. 

Sakura woke in the morning, eyes dry. And even though it was another quiet start to the day, she had the distinct feeling that she hadn’t slept well at all. 

“Coffee,” she grunted, stretching her arms above her head. She crawled out of bed, rubbing her eyes on her way to the kitchen. And as she stood filling the coffee pot at her sink, she nearly dropped the carafe. 

One of the things Sakura had missed while living in the city had been a yard. Even if it was just a dinky patch of grass, it was nice to be able to point at that grass and announce, “That’s mine.” Genma had left behind some nice shrubs and some flowers. The big tree in the middle, he’d added, was a peach tree. 

“Don’t worry about watering that stuff or whatever. It’ll be fine,” he’d assured her as he handed her the keys to the place. 

And the reason Sakura stood horrified now was that Genma’s yard had been overturned. One of the shrubs had been ripped out by the roots. The leaves and flowers on the other plants were in tatters. Parts of the yard had been dug up, like someone had been hunting for buried pirate treasure. The garbage was knocked over, paper and food bits scattered throughout the grass. 

Sakura called Kakashi, phone tucked between her cheek and shoulder as she measured grounds and poured them into the filter.

“Sheriff, hey. Uh... you busy right now?” she said when he picked up. 

“I was on my way to the station. Why?” he replied. 

“Well, I’d really appreciate it if you could drop by. Looks like someone had a party in my yard last night. And I wasn’t invited,” Sakura told him. 

There was a pause. Then she heard his signal clicking. 

“Be right there.” He hung up.

Sakura sat on the steps leading up to the back door. Her elbows rested on her knees, cheeks in her hands. Only her eyes moved as she watched the spectral black dog pace back and forth across the yard. In particular, he seemed to pace the boundary between the grass and the forest with diligence. 

“Is it aliens? The devil?” she inquired. 

Kakashi turned his head in her direction. The black smoke around his tail expanded, swallowing him up. When she blinked, a man stood there instead. He crossed the grass, careful not to step in the garbage as he went. 

“Smells like werewolf,” he told her. Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck, adding, “I have a pretty good guess at what happened here. But I’m going to have to talk to a few people first.”

Sakura nodded, only understanding about half of what he was saying. And Kakashi seemed to either see or feel that. Because he crouched in front of her so that he could look at her, not down at her.

“You grow up around werewolves?” asked Kakashi. She shook her head. And he chuckled, “I figured. Scoot over.”

Sakura made room for Kakashi on the stairs. When he sat, the wood gave a long creak. 

“Were packs tend to handle stuff in-house. They’re pretty big on disciplining their own,” he explained. “So I’m not saying to pretend this never happened. I’m just asking you to keep an open mind. If, when we get talking, you see eye-to-eye with them, great.” And when Sakura caught on to what he was saying, she frowned. He held his hands up. 

“But if you’re not happy, I’ve got your back, alright? I’ll do everything I can to make you happy. I’ll do anything to see you smile,” Kakashi added. When he had finished speaking, he seemed a little surprised. Almost like he couldn’t believe what had come out of his own mouth. Shaking his head a little, he scrutinized her.

“I’m not even that nice to my family. That’s some charm you’ve got there,” he observed. She gave a rueful smile, tight at the corners. 

“You grow up around sirens, Sheriff?” Sakura questioned. He laughed at the way she threw his words back at him. 

“No. Although I hear that sirens tend to stick together,” Kakashi recalled. 

Sakura looked down at her knees. “Yeah,” was all she said. 

Grunting, Kakashi got to his feet. He gave her shoulder a light squeeze. 

“Don’t touch anything out here. I’ll be back in the afternoon,” he told her.

“Sure,” Sakura called after him.

Sakura kept busy. What had happened to the yard was upsetting. But she had learned from experience that staying busy was the best way to deal with things that were out of her control. So she unpacked a few boxes, discovering that the freezer had an automatic ice maker. Which cheered her up quite a bit. 

She managed to assemble the coffee table and half of another shelf before Kakashi knocked on her door. He came bearing a light blue box filled with profiteroles. Delicate, flaky pastry piled high with custard and whipped cream. 

“From the lovely Ino. She sensed that you were upset,” Kakashi explained, surrendering the box. Sakura took a bite out of the biggest pastry, chocolate and cream smearing around the corners of her mouth. She wiped her face on the back of her hand before motioning him inside. 

“And I brought-”

“Shh. Coffee first,” Sakura interrupted him. Kakashi fell silent as he followed her into the house. While Kakashi struggled with his boots at the door, Sakura headed into the kitchen. She only pulled one mug out of the box on the counter. She filled it with plenty of ice before pouring coffee into it. It said on the side in big red letters: ‘If this is full, shut the fuck up’. 

Sakura turned to face her the sheriff. Kakashi stood there, tapping his fingers against the countertop with obvious impatience. But he didn’t say anything as she enjoyed her coffee.

She didn’t offer him a drink. Or any of her profiteroles as she picked up the one she had already taken a bite out of. She chomped down on it again. Marveling at how the silky taste of butter and sweet cream melted together in her mouth. 

“Okay. I’m ready to listen,” Sakura sighed once she finished eating and took another gulp of coffee. Powdered sugar and bits of pastry clung to her fingertips. She wiped them on a kitchen towel before she leaned her elbow against the counter.

An odd look crossed Kakashi’s face. Like he didn’t realize that he had been waiting for her.

“Yep,” replied Sakura with a knowing look. His eyes demanded an explanation. She didn’t blame him.

“I can’t force you to do something against your will. But I can suggest things and you’re more likely to listen,” she said. 

“Oh. Well... can you.... turn it off?” Kakashi requested. 

She laughed. “It’s not a lamp, Sheriff. It’s just... part of me.”

Kakashi didn’t look too happy. But he took it rather well. He just sort of sighed and nodded. 

“You’ll build up a little bit of immunity, eventually. Takes a couple weeks. And it doesn’t work as well if you’re aware of it,” Sakura assured him. That seemed to comfort him a little. And then Kakashi’s face was all business again.

“I brought a guest. If you’re willing to hear him out,” he told her. He pointed with his thumb. Sakura sighed as she headed to the front door. She could already see someone waiting outside the patio door. He lifted his head before she said anything.

Sakura pushed the door open. 

“Hi,” was all she said, a little more than wary. Because no matter how handsome he was, a stranger was still a stranger. And if this stranger had anything to do with uprooted shrubs and a ruined lawn, he was lucky not to get her foot up his ass first thing. 

“Hey. I’m Kiba. I really wish we could’ve met under better circumstances,” the man said, offering his hand. Sakura shook it. She could feel the callouses on his fingers and his palm. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

Sakura decided that her foot would stay on the ground. For now.