#like i just assumed 'made it myself. mostly out of spoons'

[cosmicallyavg]

forgive me if this is like. common knowledge but i just realized thirteen's sonic is shaped like that because it's made out of spoons. and so its literally the shape of a spoon

[psychangels]

I imagine when Chai gets sick, he gets SICK. Chai can’t get out of bed because he’s hot and cold, body sweating, shaking, sore, and just feeling awful. The gang now has to take care of him: Korsica is researching on how to ease his sickness (maybe working on some emails to cancel some meetings Chai had as the ambassador), Peppermint berating him on taking care of himself while shoving a spoonful of warm soup in his mouth, Macaron desperately trying not to panic at his friend’s state (he probably made the soup), CNMN is…helping in his…usual way.

the universe (fanbase) just loves making this guy suffer

Chai wakes up groggy, sweaty, cold, and with his whole body aching. His nose is stuffed up and his throat is scratchy. The beat is crazy fast. He feels like he just ran a ten mile marathon, but he's still running even though it's over.

Coughing, his body jolts. He hates the fact that each one is in-time.

His first thought is goddammit. His second is I need a nap. Which is followed up by wait, I just woke up.

A beat passes.

Rolling over, he pulls the blanket up over his head and tries to go back to sleep.

Something fuzzy rubbing against his face wakes Chai up. He groans. Someone says something. He can't make out the words. But the voice is familiar. Probably Peppermint. The fuzzy thing disappears after a second.

"Chai? You awake...?" Peppermint asks.

He grumbles in response, too tired to form a coherent sentence.

"...I'll take that as a maybe."

A few beats pass.

Then, she says, "You're gonna have to, y'know, get up soon. Don't you have a meeting today?"

Does he? Chai really can't remember. His brain feels like it's full of bees. Or it's made of soup. Bee soup...

"Hello? Chai?" "Whuh?" "...Are you okay?" "Meh...m'fine...don' worry 'bout it," he mumbles.

About half a beat passes before Peppermint says, "So what you're saying is you're definitely not okay."

He frowns. "No...? S'not what I said...at all."

She sighs.

The fuzzy thing is suddenly back. This time it's rubbing against his arm—and meowing.

Oh. It's just 808.

He slowly opens his eyes and is greeted by the sight of Peppermint looking down at him, her arms crossed. Shifting, he looks down towards 808. Her glowing eyes and LEDs, paired with the light creeping in through the open door, make him squint and grimace. He shuts them again.

808 mewls, nuzzling into the crook of his elbow. With a fond huff, Chai wraps his arm around her and pulls her up toward him, nestling her against his chest. She starts purring a beat later.

Something touches his forehead. It quickly pulls away.

Peppermint mutters something. Then, she says, "You're definitely sick. You really need to take better care of yourself."

Chai has no idea what that's supposed to mean. He takes great care of himself. Eats, drinks, sleeps, showers, vibes...all the things you're supposed to do. Besides, she's one to talk! Need to take better care of myself...psh...

Him being sick doesn't have anything to do with how well he takes care of himself. He probably caught something during one of his concerts. Being around a huge crowd of people does that to you. Plus, there's been, like, a bunch of new human employees that he could've gotten sick from. Hmph. Need to take better care of myself...yeah, right.

"What're you muttering about?"

...Was he saying all that out loud?

...

Doesn't matter. He takes good care of himself, which is what does.

"...Hello? Earth to Chai?" "Nothin'. Don' worry 'bout it." "Bit late for that," she dryly replies.

With a sigh, she says something about 'calling for back-up' and breakfast. Chai hums in response.

He assumes the back-up is just a work-related thing.

As for breakfast...the thought of eating right now isn't super appealing. He'll get himself something later. Right now, he mostly just wants to go back to sleep.

So, rolling over, he cuddles 808 and tries to do just that.

The feeling of something cold and damp being placed on top of his forehead jolts Chai out of his slumber. He grunts, eyes fluttering open.

They widen when he's met with the sight of Macaron. There's a familiar anxious expression on his face. But he perks up a little when he notices Chai looking at him.

"Hey, little guy. How're you feeling?"

Everything aches. His mouth feels like it's full of sand, and his throat is itchier than a flea-covered dog. The entirety of his body feels disgusting. Sweaty and greasy and just overall horrible. He's cold and too hot. His stomach and head are starting to hurt. It's hard to breathe. The beat is so fast. Whatever song is playing is both too loud and too quiet. He's too tired to even guess the genre.

But he does feel slightly better than he did...however many hours ago. Just barely.

"Like dogshit," is what part of him wants to say. The truthful, exhausted, hurting part.

Instead, he croaks out, "Eh. Could be worse."

Macaron smiles weakly. Then, he turns away as he lets out a soft, "Oh!" When he turns back around, he's holding a mug and a glass of water. Steam is rising from the mug.

"Me and CNMN made you some soup," he explains as he gingerly sets them down on Chai's night stand. "It's just chicken noodle. Hope that's alright."

A memory of being sick in bed, eating Gram's homemade chicken noodle soup suddenly hits Chai, and he's left reeling for a few beats.

Shaking himself and sniffling, he slowly sits up. The wash cloth that was on his forehead falls off, onto his lap. It makes him realize that 808 is gone. Must've gotten sick of cuddling with his sorry ass. He frowns. Then, he huffs a laugh. Hah. Sick.

"Chicken noodle's great. Thanks, Mac," he replies, offering the best grin he can muster at the moment. It's ruined by a brief coughing fit.

"Of course! It's no problem."

Picking up the mug, Chai notices some bottles of medicine are also on the nightstand. There's a sticky note attached to one that reads, "Take two of each—WITH WATER!" It's signed by Pep. He smiles.

Turning his attention back to the cup, drinks some of the soup in it. Warmth quickly spreads through him. It doesn't quite taste like home—but it's close enough. Before he knows it, it's all gone.

His stomach stops hurting almost immediately. Now he wishes he had gotten up to eat earlier. Oh well.

Macaron's staring at him with wide eyes. "Good?"

"Amazing!" he replies. After a beat, he adds on, "I feel better already! Tell your co-chef I said thanks!"

He beams. "I'm glad. And you can tell them yourself—if you're feeling up to it. They're just out in the living area."

...It's probably about time he got up. Not only to see his friends, but also because he really needs to piss. Then, he can just take another nap on the couch and sleep the rest of this stupid...whatever he has away. Easy peasy.

"Gimme like...5 minutes." "Alright! See you in a few."

Showered, changed, bladder emptied, and medicine taken, Chai limps over to the couch where Peppermint, 808, Macaron, CNMN, and Korsica are all gathered.

When he'd first left his room and hurried into the bathroom, he hadn't even noticed Korsica. He's surprised to see her here. It's not the weekend, so she should definitely be at work. Actually...Macaron and CNMN should be, too. And probably Peppermint, but she works from home sometimes so her being here isn't that weird.

Wincing from his sore body, Chai plops down next to Peppermint. 808 immediately hops from her lap to his. He pats her on the head.

Then, he looks at Korsica and asks, "Shouldn't you be at work?" "...Hello to you, too, Chai," she says with a frown. "What? It's Tuesday! So it's a valid question!"

"It's actually Wednesday, Mr. Chai," CNMN pipes up. "And hello!" Oh. "Hey, CNMN. Thanks for the soup." "It's no problem, Mr. Chai! I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"As CNMN said, it's Wednesday," Korsica states after a beat, bringing his attention back to her, "but that's besides the point. I'm here because of you."

"...Why?" She blinks. "Because...you're my friend. And you're sick." "...So...?"

"...So I came to check up on you. Oh, and...I handled your meeting today for you. Same with some others you had this week. Just in case."

His eyes widen. "Oh. Thanks. You didn't have to do that." "I know. It's no trouble, really."

He looks toward the others after a beat.

"So, wait—you...all took the day off for me...?" "Sure did, little guy." "Yeah," Peppermint replies.

Chai's not really sure how to feel about that. There's a fuzzy feeling in his chest.

"...Thanks." "Of course!" "Sure."

Another beat passes.

His brow furrows. "Wait. How'd you guys even find out I'm sick?" "I told them," Peppermint states. "...So that's what the 'calling for back-up' thing was about!"

"Huh. I'm surprised you remember that—and that you even heard. I thought you had already passed out."

"Nah. I passed out right after." Peppermint huffs and smiles. "Of course."

[larcenywrites]

Sick Day

college!Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: comfort/fluff | mild sexual reference | mild swearing | Tony being a bitch baby

Word Count: 1.2K

It wasn’t unusual for Tony not to be in class, especially on a Friday, but you're always told when he's skipping because you want to skip too! Maybe he slept late and just didn’t bother to show up, assuming you’d come by whenever on your own… Which is exactly what you did, but some notice still would have been nice!

You softly knocked on his bedroom door, cringing at the squeak it made when you opened it wider. You could barely make out his form buried under the covers, but what you could make out in the darkness were the many, many tissues piled on the nightstand. And some on the floor.

Very sanitary, Tony.

"Either you've had a lot of fun without me," you teased, flicking on the lamp at his bedside much to the disapproval of that grumpy groan, "or you're very sick." He looked up at you with a glare that could kill. He aggressively turned away from you without even a huff. Well, now you have one answer.

"Aw, Tony, you're burning up," you commented when you pressed your palm to his forehead and feverish cheeks, petting over his hair before you pulled away. Knowing how he was when he was sick, you were pretty sure he hadn't even moved from this spot other than to get a glass of water that was already empty anyway. You sighed. Looks like that fun weekend all alone in the house was turning into you getting to play caretaker.

"Have you even eaten today?" You asked him, obviously way more concerned than he was when you only got another snide remark. "I can take care of myself," he mumbled with a sniffle, eyes shut. It doesn't sound like it, you thought, but you didn’t want to poke that bad attitude further.

Well, maybe just a little.

"What if I’m a sexy nurse for you,” you purred playfully, leaning over him in the hope of at least getting him to look at you. Instead, you got a furrowed brow and a scowl. "No," he said bluntly, almost confused as to why you’d even offer. You stood back up with a snort. "You're no fun.” Tony’s lack of commentary was concerning. He must be feeling pretty bad if he’s not even bantering along with you. You took that empty glass from his nightstand, heading to the kitchen to refill it and at least trying to make some soup that he probably wouldn’t even touch. Anything that might at least help him feel a little better. He didn’t even react to you walking back to his bedside. You sat next to him, bowl in your lap, and ran a hand over his blanket-covered back. “Could I convince you to get up for a few minutes?” You smiled at his small “no”, but you weren’t exactly laughing. “Please?” You patiently asked again. There was a long pause before he breathed a heavy sigh and rolled onto his back. Tired eyes looked up at you.

"Do I need to spoon-feed you?” You cooed, wiggling the spoon in his direction. “Like my little baby?"

“Never say that to me again,” he sassed you with a shake of his head. He wasn't having any of it today! However, he still complied (mostly to stop you from your further teasing) and sat up against the headboard. He even took the bowl from your hands! With a frown… but you were sure it was endearing!

While he was busy clanking the spoon around the bowl rather than actually using it, you were sat up against the headboard next to him wit your workbook in your lap, trying to finish up Monday’s homework. But goddamn, you were going to have to find something better for him to do than play spoons on that partially touched bowl that he was obviously uninterested in (other than getting to bother you with the noise).

After convincing him to take a shower (and no, not with you), you quickly swept all those tissues into the nearby waste bin that should probably be left next to the bed now that you thought about it. And you might as well pour the rest of that soup out that he wasn’t going to eat. And refill that glass of water while you were already going to the kitchen. And there is that change of sheets in the hallway closet that you’d benefit from, too, if you’re going to stick around all weekend with a sick Tony...

Well, now that things were a little better around here, you could get back to your studying— with only another minor interruption of your still disgruntled boyfriend padding back into the room, of course.

“Do you feel any better?” You asked as he fell back into place on the bed, this time not huddling under the sheets or hiding in the pillows. His hum was still grumpy when he shook his head, though.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, reaching over to thread your fingers through his slightly damp hair and . Almost as soon as you pulled away to get back to your studying, that head of dark curls was at your side. You smiled down at him pressing his cheek against your thigh, suddenly like a tamed kitten compared to all that fire earlier. Maybe he was feeling better than earlier if he was finally being a little affectionate, but he must not have appreciated it when your attention stayed on your book rather than returning to your previous petting.

You couldn’t keep ignoring him when he nudged his way under your arm, squeezing between you and the textbook and making himself comfortable in your lap. As bitchy as he had been all evening, he did appreciate your company and care and obviously didn’t mind getting you sick if it meant he got to cuddle. Getting sick just to accommodate him was probably one of the more tame things you'd done anyway, but he better not get any snot on you.

Oh, how could you push away such a pitiful sight? You quickly tossed your workbook to the bedside, not catching that satisfied grin that knew he got his way when you shifted to lay down. Now that he had your undivided attention he hugged himself into you, head on your chest and drawn-up legs tangled with yours. Maybe the best remedy was simply you.

Unfortunately that didn't last very long once Sunday night rolled around.

"Now we're both sick, dumbass," he said with a bite, bunching up the covers to huddle under. Somewhere under all that was concern. Really!

"Then we can both skip class tomorrow," you mumbled with a too-cheery tone before cuddling yourself into the warmth of his back. He still wasn't having any of it. "And you're going to get me more sick," he whined, pout muffled under all the blankets.

"You're such a baby," you scoffed. There was shuffling against you as he moved onto his stomach. Those brooding brown eyes glared at you again with an oddly cute sniffle, but it wasn't anything a little peck to his bicep and a tired smile couldn't fix! And though he gave you that irritated huff-and-puff attitude as he turned the other way, he threw an arm over your waist to pull you into his side.

At least you two actually had an excuse to skip class for once.

[genderless-spoon]

Okay I’m gonna rant on here for a sec cause I’m frustrated and have nowhere to put it.

I don’t know if you guys know what the term “ingredient household” means but essentially it’s a term that describes a house that doesn’t really do a lot of snack and meals that are pre-made or, in my case, even pre-planned.

Adding on to this concept, I’m sure many of us on here heard our parents claim we “had food at home” or “had plenty of food in the house” and we were “just picky and/or lazy” whenever we asked about getting food out or buying groceries or anything similar.

This was my house. We were mostly an ingredient household but my parents didn’t plan out the meals for which they were buying ingredients, my mom would just buy the same generic groceries every time with very little variety and would improvise throughout the week. This meant we ate a lot of the same food made in slightly different ways all the time (which is not, in itself, the problem). It also meant that when I got home from school and both my parents were at work, not to return home for at least a few hours each (often well after dinner time) I was usually hungry and we had no snacks unless I wanted to shove handfuls of chocolate chips in my mouth or eat spoonfuls of peanut butter (both things I used to do). This paired with the fact that my parents needed time to settle in and my family didn’t tend to eat dinner until pretty late, meant I was often told to find food myself if I was hungry.

My mom did this to us a lot growing up, but starting from a pretty early age when even making a sandwich was kind of a lot. I always wished she’d have taught me how to make at least a few small things, because when I was told that we had food and it was all just ingredients I genuinely didn’t have any clue what to do. I have been seeing a lot of parents on social media complaining about the “we have no food” line that their children pull, and it’s starting to really bother me. Obviously I know this is not the same situation for all of these kids but I think children in general tend to be pretty resourceful and creative, and do not want to sit there hungry unable to do anything about it. They aren’t just acting helpless so their parents do things for them, they are literally children, they’re supposed to be more helpless than an adult in that regard.

I think a lot of parents (especially gen x parents) seem to assume that just because something seemed simple to them their children should already know instinctively how to do it, but everyone has to learn their skills somewhere and making that process a little easier on your children is such a great way to show them how much you love them. Involving the kids in the process of making dinner little by little and encouraging them to learn is much more effective than just one day expecting them to know how to take care of themselves. If you don’t want to spend all that time making food for your children (which, by the way, is literally what you sign on for when you choose to have kids), then at least take a bit of time every so often to provide them with the skills they’ll need to be successful without your help. Children are still learning how to be humans and sometimes they need a little extra help.

I now really struggle to prepare dinner for myself regularly as an adult because I’m starting from scratch having never really learned much beyond the easy stuff I could make myself as a middle schooler. I’m also disabled (in multiple ways) and going through the whole process is so draining that I often end up not eating or eating something pre-made, and while there’s nothing wrong with that food it is frustrating to feel awful all the time from eating that kind of food but not have the time, energy, or money to figure out a way without it.

My parents never prepared me for real life tasks and self care responsibilities and my parents are my biggest critics when I fail or struggle with simple tasks like cooking dinner despite them being the reason for it. Every time I so much as attempt to make myself food that isn’t frozen or pre-made my mom has to comment on how it looks or how healthy it is when I’m literally just lucky I was able to do what I did.

I don’t know how relatable this is, maybe it’s only going to make sense to a select few people, but I just needed to get it off my chest. I’m sorry for the rant, thank you for reading. Let me know if you relate to this so I know I’m not just yelling into the void lol.

[udretlnea]

Hot Chocolate with the Fair Lady

Written as part of the winter event for the Yae Publishing House

Masterlist

Genre: Fluff

There you were in a high-class house in Snezhnaya on the second-floor balcony.

You were standing on the balcony out in the cold air without your coat on; you observed your breath every time you exhaled, fascinated by how quickly it cooled.

While you could just stay inside and watch the snowflakes fall from behind the glass as an ordinary person would, there was something so reinvigorating about the chilly air. 

Perhaps it was because it reminded you of Signora and her comforting aura.

The image of her standing in front of you as she relayed orders to her subordinates in that authoritative voice of hers was enough to give you thrills; you sighed when you imagined that impassive mask she put on-it was terrifying to watch her work, but it was exciting nonetheless.

Crossing your arms, you searched your memories for other instances of when she was working. There were several times she’d honor her recruits with a sparring session, and it wasn’t until you arrived that she had stopped using lethal force; you’d even offer to help heal their wounds, assuming they sustained anything worse than bruises. As a Fatui Harbinger, she held so much power in her hands it was a wonder she was still the Signora you know so well.

You were so caught up in your reminiscing that you barely registered the bedroom door opening or the clicking of heels getting closer. A gloved hand was placed on your shoulder, bursting your figurative bubble; you turned, looked up into familiarly harsh, light gray eyes, and grinned innocently.

“Hello, my love,” you place your hand where your heart is and look at her with what you thought was a delight. “I was just thinking about you. I missed you so much.”

You saw her eyes soften just a little and Signora let out a small sigh; she gently caressed your cheek. “I missed you too, my heart,” Her eyes sharpened somewhat. “But what do you think you’re doing all alone out here in the cold? Need I remind you that the temperature is low enough for humans to freeze to death without proper clothing?”

At that, you cock your head to the side. “I knew that, but to be honest, this is nothing. After all,” You rest your chin on top of her chest, beaming at her. “Whenever we hug like this, it feels exactly how it is right now, delightfully cold.  I’ve come to enjoy it; is that odd? Did…alienate me, again?”

“Hm…” Signora stroked your hair softly. “No, I suppose I understand what you meant.”

“Hehe~”

“However,” she cupped your face with her hand. “If you get sick from standing out here for too long, I can promise you that you shall be punished dearly. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded fervently.

She smirked before bringing her lips to yours and the two of you shared a kiss. It lasted for five seconds when she broke it and led you by the wrist inside.

“Good, now, why don’t you make us something nice to drink,” She said.

You were in the kitchen now, wearing a blanket like a cloak as you patiently heated some milk in a pot over the stove; it was mostly quiet, save for the sound of running water coming from the bathroom over on the other side of the room.

You were sitting in front of the stove, reading a book-a light novel about some everyman waking up as the Electro Archon-made for adequate stimulation. Suddenly, the sound of bubbling water snapped you out of the fantasy world you were engrossed in. 

You lifted the pot carefully over to a pair of empty cups and proceeded to fill each of them with hot milk. Then, you opened the nearby cabinet and took out a jar of brown powder; you scooped it up with a spoon and poured two and a half into each glass.

You set one glass on the small table and went to sit down in front of the fireplace. Then you took a sip of your drink, pleased as the taste of chocolate settled on your tongue.

There was no sound of running water anymore, just the crackling of fire on wood; the heat from the fireplace spread throughout the room rather quickly, thus you no longer felt any cold. 

Footsteps muffled by carpet sound off somewhere to your right when you notice the glass you left on the table gets picked up; you turn your head and lay your eyes on Signora wearing a dark violet silk nightgown. She looked majestic in it, probably more than her regular outfit.

She took a sip and then let out a satisfying hum. She then went and unapologetically sat on your lap; you nuzzled into the crook of her neck, thankful that your average height allowed you to pull such a move.

“I love you,” you muttered. You breathed in her scent and exhaled. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you more than my hatred for the gods, except for Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, of course,” she replied in a low voice.

You two watched the flames dance around and listened to it crackling, sipping your hot chocolate.

Eventually, the two of you finished your drinks; the both of you then poured your own water from a nearby pitcher and drank it to wash the sugar down. After that, the two of you got ready to sleep by lying down in bed.

Already sleepy from the atmosphere and the warm drink you had, your eyelids automatically shut themselves as soon as your head hit the pillow. Your body moved on its own and your arms wrapped around Signora’s waist; she leaned into your embrace so quickly.

And there the two of you stayed, sleeping soundly underneath a ceiling underneath the starry sky of Teyvat.

[alex51324]

Meal kit update

As promised, here’s a follow-up to my earlier post about the EveryPlate meal kit trial offer.  it came with invite codes for an even better trial offer than the one I got, so if you want one of those, let me know--I’ll put the details at the end of the post.

It came via UPS, on time and in a medium-sized cardboard box: 

Inside the box everything was just kind of thrown in there:

The items that had to be kept cold--meat and a few slices of cheese, in the box I ordered--were at the bottom of the box, in a paper grocery-type bag with an ice pack.  Everything arrived cold and in good condition--but it’s January, and it wasn’t sitting on my stoop for long, so I can’t speak to how well their packaging works in more challenging conditions.

Here’s everything I got:

Most of the stuff was wrapped in plastic, but the sturdier produce items--potatoes, sweet potatoes, onions, garlic, limes, and gingeroot--were just thrown in there.  

Reminder from the previous post, the offer I used was four servings of each of three meals. The meals I picked were steak sandwiches, pork chops with rice and carrots, and a veggie bowl.  The top row is the steak, which came in two packets, carrots (some for the side dish with the pork chops, some for the veggie bowl) and broccoli.  Then there’s the pork chops, rice (four packets, two each for the pork chops and veggie bowl), scallions, and sweet potatoes, then regular potatoes, onions, bread rolls (for the steak sandwiches), and limes, garlic, ginger, and assorted seasoning packets.  They offer two-serving and four-serving plans; it looks like a lot of the stuff is packaged for the two-serving plan, so if you did four servings, they just send you two of everything.  

This particular service assumes that you will have some basic things in your kitchen already, so they don’t send you little packets of olive oil, salt, and so forth.  I was surprised to learn that mayonnaise is on the list of things they assume you’ll have--I had to run out and buy that.  (Although I do already have honey and soy sauce, which they sent me.)  

Today I cooked the steak sandwiches.  Here’s all the stuff for those:

This recipe is not a great choice for my “cook four servings and eat leftovers all week” strategy, but it looked good and I wanted steak sandwiches, so I picked it anyway.  Today I made the potato wedges, cooked all of the sandwich filling, and made the garlic mayo, then finished and assembled two sandwiches--one to eat right away, and one to reheat. 

 I put the rest of the sandwich filling in a container; I’ll assemble the other two sandwiches later in the week.   

The recipe wasn’t super well organized, and it included some steps that were fiddlier/created more dishes to wash than I’d have done if I were making steak sandwiches by ear.  For instance, it had me cook the steak and the onions separately, then combine them, and for both steps it had me adding stuff (butter, water, the beef stock concentrate, a spoonful of sugar, a spoonful of flour) at various stages.  Left to myself, I’d probably just have cooked the onions for a bit, then added the steak and everything else.  But I played along, and it turned out good, but the whole thing felt busier than seemed really necessary--like they were trying to convince me I was really cooking.  

Here’s my plate for today:  

And my leftovers;:

The portion size seems pretty ample.  If I had another roll, I could probably have gotten five sandwiches out of the amount of steak-and-onion mixture I had.  The cheese slices seemed a little skimpy when I was taking them out of the box, but on the sandwich itself, it seemed like enough.  (It’s Gouda cheese, which--speaking as someone within shouting distance of Philly--strikes me as a distinctly eccentric choice for a cheesesteak, but it was good.)

Summing up, good experience so far!  I got it mostly to add some enrichment to my enclosure, and because the trial offer was a reasonably good deal.  

As I noted before, for me personally, the full price isn’t a great value--it would have been about $70 for this box, which is a total of 12 meals; I can do a lot better than that at my regular store--but if you find food shopping and meal-planning to be an obstacle to cooking at home, paying a little extra to outsource those aspects could be worth it, IDK.  

Picking what meals I wanted was fun; they give you about twenty options, with a good amount of variety.  I did one thing I like but hardly ever make for myself (the steak sandwiches), one that’s a variation on a meal in my regular rotation (pork chops with a starch and a vegetable) and one that’s new-to-me (sweet potato broccoli and rice donburi).  

Offer codes:  They sent me a bunch of invite codes for a free first box (you only pay shipping; it’s $10.99, which is a steal for this much food), so if you want one, just DM me.  You just have to be in the US and have a credit card; they make you sign up for a plan, but you can easily cancel it before they bill you for anything other than the $10.99.   The billing schedule is five days before delivery, so if you know you only want the free box, just cancel the day it comes and you’re good.   They do send you a shitload of email, but what else is new--use your throwaway if you have one.  

(And seriously, don’t feel bad about just grabbing the free box and canceling.  They chose this marketing strategy.)

[poptod]

Pretty, Little Doll (Merriel Shelton x Reader)

Description: Merriel makes friends with the pretty little doll serving ice cream.

Notes: jus thinking about ice cream. implied female reader, but this.. is too much. theres just too much here. youve been warned. edit: wait no u havent. the warning is that theres suggestive themes and such WC: 2.3k

+

After working long hours in the broiling sun of the south, what felt best down his parched throat was a beer––a bar where many of his friends and coworkers drank at, and the waitresses wore low-cut dresses with short hems and long stockings. That sight went down wonderfully with several drinks, but what drew his attention today was a newly opened shop.

There was no sign, but the large, pristine windows gave a good view of the inside. Clean, white walls with several tables and chairs to the left, and a counter to order at on the right. Behind it stood you, dressed to the nines in ruffles and bows as you opened up the shop, displaying buckets of ice cream.

Merriel grinned. Lopsided and toothy, and he jogged inside, sweat and dirt still trailing down his skin and clothes. With his shirt slung over his bare shoulder, he met your eye and his cocky smile returned as his chin tilted high.

"Afternoon," he drawled as he approached the counter, barely grazing over the different flavors before returning to you.

"Good afternoon," you said in a much quieter voice, though you did mimic his smile, just more politely. "How may I help you?"

"You new here?" He asked, gesturing generally to the shop.

"Oh, yes," you said. "My grandmother always wanted an ice cream parlor, so.. I thought I could help her."

"That's awful sweet of ya," he said as he leant on the counter, tilting ever closer to you. "This ice cream sweet as you, boo?"

Your mouth fell open, eyes widening as you did a double take. For a moment you were at a loss for words, but you quickly attempted to stammer out a response, a blush burning your face.

"Well, um, we have, uh, strawberry, and um.. chocolate, vanilla, cherry, and uh, banana. And bourbon."

"Bourbon?" He said, a single brow kinked upwards.

"It's my grandma's favorite," you said with a sheepish chuckle.

"Damn, girl. Grandma knows how to have fun," he laughed.

"Would you like to try it?"

Only if I can lick it off you, he thought, his attention drifting to the soft skin of your neck. The thought of it melting down and pooling in your clavicle. While usually he didn't bother to censor himself for anyone, you seemed a little fainthearted. His chances with you would probably be ruined after one too-strange comment.

"Sure," was what he said instead. "Long as it's cold I don't care."

"I understand that. I moved here recently and it's certainly something to try and adapt to the heat," you rambled as you stuck a tiny plastic spoon in the bourbon ice cream, giving him the single bite. "Are you a local?"

"Been here long's I remember," he said, taking the spoon. "What time do ya get off today?"

"Oh, um," you fixed the ruffles on your collar, "I won't be finished till late. We're not all set up yet."

"If y' need some help, I'd be happy to offer my expertise. I do a hell of a lot a' nailin' things ta the wall."

You stared at him again, once more losing your words. He hadn't quite meant what he said, but the fluster he left you in had him grinning, humored by the connotation you'd incorrectly understood.

"That – that'd be very nice of you," you said, wringing your hands. "I don't want to bother you. You look.. busy."

He didn't miss how your eyes raked up his body, from his wrinkled, dusty pants up his bare waist and chest still gleaming with the sweat of morning work. His jaw could cut hearts and he knew that very well; accented it whenever he could as he cocked his chin upwards, watching carefully as your breath froze.

"I won't be busy tonight. How 'bout this." He walked up right to the counter, pressing his hips into the edge of it. "I come after I finish up ma' own job, and I'll give ya' a hand. Don't even gotta pay me."

"Really? But –"

"Don't worry 'bout it. 'S nothin' for a pretty doll like you."

"At least let me get you a cone? It's hot out today," you offered, reaching for the largest waffle cones you had.

The guys wouldn't really take well to him eating ice cream instead of drinking, but he figured they'd eat their words when they saw you.

"Won't say no to that."

As much as he wanted to boast about you, how pretty and sweet you were and how he so easily slid his way into your life, he didn't want his friends finding your shop and vandalizing it with their own dirty boots and flirtatious looks. Only he could do that.

In the evening he returned as promised, having walked from his house on the outskirts of town to your shop on the main street. The build, decorum, and location of the shop screamed rich family to him. No one in his state would be able to afford a business on main street, much less fully renovated and repainted. He could ask you, he decided, about your family, your grandmother, and of course you.

Inside, you were closing up the tubs of ice cream, hauling them out of the display case and into a back storage room. He knocked before he entered, earning a muffled 'come in!' from you.

Before either of you could speak, both the buckets in your arms began to slip, and he ran round to the other side of the counter to help. He took one from you to ease the load.

"Careful, cher," he said, grabbing another bucket in his other arm. "Don't wanna break yaself."

"Thank you," you said, mostly ignoring his comment. "My grandma is in the other room, so just, um.. be polite and proper."

Fat fuckin' chance, he thought in his head, but fortunately did not say aloud as he followed you.

The door swung open into a freezer room, where an old lady stood in the corner, covered head to toe in coats as she stirred.

"I keep telling you to let me do that," you sighed, setting down your container before rushing to her side.

"I can do it quite well myself. I'm not useless, you know," your grandmother said, staring you down with a glare. You hesitated, gauging her carefully, before you relented with another exasperated sigh.

"Fine, alright," you said quietly. "I'll go work on hanging up all the paintings and such."

"Thank you, dear."

You motioned to him as you passed by, pushing open the door and heading out of the freezer. He once again followed you, watching your ass with a grin you never saw.

"We need to hang up these," you said as you brought him to one of the circular tables, each of which carried a small pile of paintings, license plates, or tin posters.

"You got a ladder?" He asked, glancing to the high walls.

"Yes sir," you said, sorting through the different posters. He quirked a brow, intrigued by the possibility of that nickname.

"I neva did get ya name," he said as he leant on one of the tables.

"(Y/N). What's yours?"

"Pretty name for a pretty doll," he half sung, the same, one-sided smile stretched lazily across his face. "My name's Merriel."

"Also a pretty name," you said, picking the largest poster to start with. A pin-up girl in a sailor's suit. "Our ladder isn't all that steady. Will you hold it for me?"

He opened his mouth to offer himself up, but with one look to the ruffled skirt you wore, he shut himself up.

"'Course," was what he said instead.

Everything was a bit of a game––one you were unwittingly a part of, and one where you played your role rather well. A sweet, unassuming little thing, essentially a toy for him, accepting his help and letting him in. He hated to act the predator, but when it came to you he couldn't help it.

That was how he saw it. Hunting you down and taking you for his own at the end of a long chase. However, to any outsider, it appeared in a much simpler way; a young man doing anything for someone he'd developed a crush on. That was how it truly was, though the innocence of his crush was abruptly stripped away as he held the ladder, staring shamelessly up your skirt.

"Merriel?"

"Huh?" He said, broken out of his dreamy trance.

"I said could you hand me another nail," you said, pointing towards the package of nails with your hammer.

"Oh. You sure ya ain't gonna fall if I leave?" He asked with a grin. You chuckled, shaking your head.

"I'll be alright."

"If you say so, boo."

After a little while he supposed he ought to offer some more help than holding a rickety ladder, and took your place at the top with a hammer in his hand and nails in his mouth. As promised, his experience with nailing things to the wall (nails specifically, not women) made him much faster than you, and the entirety of the wall behind the counter was covered within fifty minutes.

"Thank you for your help, again," you said as you put away the hammer and nails.

"My pleasure," he said, the image of your thighs still fresh in his mind. "If y' ever need help.. I'm happy t' to be of service."

"Well, thank you. Come stop by again soon. On the house," you said as he left, peeking your head out the door and giggling.

"You know I'm stoppin' by again, get two things done in one trip. Some'in sweet for th' eyes and the tongue," he laughed, watching your face light up with a blush.

And it ain't just the ice cream, he thought.

Over the course of the coming summer, he left drinking for the evening, and instead visited your shop over his lunch break. You insisted on giving his cones for free considering he continued to help you out, but he usually found ways to sneak you the money anyway. You were not, as he assumed earlier, a very rich family.

His favorite activity, which he found rather early on, was to sit outside on burning hot days, his shirt draped over the back of his chair as he ate. Through the pristine glass, he spied you watching him often.

You couldn't help it either. Most of your life was spent in your family cabin, cutting you off from many teen and early adulthood experiences. People flirting with you was a lot to deal with, especially when it came from someone as pretty as him, the smooth dips and ripples of his lean muscles shining with sweat and dirt from his construction site.

His tongue. Ever since he made that comment on that first evening you met, you hadn't been able to get it out of your mind. How it rolled and drawled between his puffy lips drawn backwards with his teeth, in a very specific method you'd pinned down to 'the Tongue Thing'.

Your heated, embarrassed blush only worsened as ice cream dripped down his fingers from the heat, cleaned up by a sharp and precise tongue. You could hardly breathe watching him like that, but as he caught your eye you turned quickly away.

His bravado had clearly earned a huge boost from catching you mid-drool, prevalent in his step as he waltzed back into your store. You hardly met his eye, pretending to clean up the counter, but that didn't stop him. He walked right up to you, leaning down with his elbows on the stone, forcing you to stop and look at him, which you did with incredible reluctance.

"You been watchin' me, cher?" He asked, close enough to see his reflection in your wide eyes.

"No," you said quietly.

"A' think you're lyin'," he said, leaning in closer yet. "Betta' not do that. Could land you in some trouble."

You raised your brows.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Not with anythin' ya can't take," he said as he raked his eyes purposefully slow down your body. When you appeared to be at a loss for words, he said, "I'll ask ya again. Were you watching me?"

"... and if I don't answer?" You tested carefully.

"Well then, I think there's too much space between us," he said, grinning cockily as he jumped the counter, crowding you suddenly.

You drew in a sharp breath, backing up as he continued to step forwards till he pinned you to the wall with his hips.

"Tell the truth, baby." he drawled, carefully setting his hands on your hips and pulling you in. Something hard poked you.

"I – I wasn't staring, I –"

He half-grinded into you, pressing you tighter against the wall as his hands drew upwards, resting at your waist.

"Such a pretty thing," he mumbled beneath his breath, watching your stumbling reaction closely.

By pinning you with his hips, he had free roam to move his hands, one of which toyed with the hem of your skirt. It was wrong, certainly, and it was also illegal since you were in plain view of main street, but he lost control the minute his fingertips brushed the soft, supple skin of your thigh.

Your breathing hastened, hips yearning for something, though you didn't know what. When the rough skin of his fingers suddenly brushed inbetween your thighs your hands shot up to steady yourself on Merriel's shoulders. He laughed, running a finger through your lips, finding you already soaked and not wearing underwear. Instantly his laugh faded, devolving into a long, needy moan as his hips once more pushed up into you.

"Th – there's someone – someone coming," you said, eyes darting to the front door.

Immediately he was off you, stepping to the side as you straightened yourself out. You walked forward with shaky legs, which he most definitely noticed, and took the mother and son's orders as usual. When you finished you glanced to him, your heart stopping at the sight of him licking your slick from his fingers.

"I guess your ice cream is as sweet as you, boo," he murmured in your ear, giving you no chance to react before rushing back out to return to his construction job.

[furikakyo]

a return to roots | 4

pairing: kita shinsuke x f!reader

summary: y/n is a rising star in the music industry, having almost everything you could have ever hoped for as a small-town country girl. now after releasing two triple platinum albums in consecutive years, you face the dreaded artist’s burnout… in order to recover, your manager suggests, you should return to your hometown in hyōgo for a long-deserved break. 

genre: socmed/smau, slice of life 

warnings/tags: timeskip!, mutual pining, slow burn? more like rekindling, slight canon divergence

masterpost 

If you were to be completely honest, you'd wanted to wear a dress you’d been allowed to keep after a photoshoot. However, it wasn't a good look for someone of your status to re-wear outfits, especially statement pieces. You couldn't remember who had designed it, but it had been mostly tulle and made you feel like a princess... all things that could not be used to describe what you were wearing now. For your dinner plans, you chose to wear a simple yet smart-looking bodycon dress, one that you were regretting as you stepped out of the car. You pulled at the hem from over the long coat you wore, conscious of the fact that there could potentially be paparazzi waiting to snap a photo of you from an unfortunate angle if you weren't paying close attention. Unlike American paparazzi, reporters here didn't flock at the entrances of exclusive clubs or restaurants, but it never hurt to be cautious.

"I won't need a ride home," you told Ichiro, who nodded stiffly and then shut the door of the car after you got out, “I can get a ride home."

You adjusted the sunglasses on the bridge of your nose, aware that you looked out of place in the nightlife, and then walked to the doors of the hotel. A concierge opened the door to greet you and Ichiro, who trailed behind, scanning the area. "Welcome, Miss. Your party called ahead and made us aware of the arrangements to be made. You can follow me to the elevator, where I will escort you to your destination."

"Thank you," you said coolly, then took after them. While in the elevator, the concierge spoke nervously, emphasizing how much of an honor it was for someone like you to visit their establishment. You smiled politely, silently willing the elevator to reach the right floor faster.

A restaurant specializing in molecular gastronomy, Kuroo had explained to you on the phone the night before. He'd sounded probably the most excited you'd ever heard him. You had looked it up yourself after the call had ended. It was on the 29th floor of a luxurious hotel, one that you had never been to yourself. Only eight people max were allowed to dine in, and the chef made all of the food in front of you, four courses.

You were dragged out of your thoughts when the elevator finally dinged and the concierge guided you to the glass doors of the restaurant, where Ichiro recognized the occupants and left you alone to be greeted by Kuroo, Lev, his sister Alisa, and, surprisingly, Kenma. You took off your sunglasses and slipped them into the pocket of your coat before that too was taken by a waitress, who calmly swept them away from you and into a closet, presumably.

"Hi, guys!" you gave a bright smile and then slipped into the empty seat in between Kenma and Alisa.

"We thought you might want to sit next to Alisa," Kenma explained quietly, tugging on the collar of his dress shirt.

You smiled again, settling into the chair. "Thanks," you nodded your head. "You look nice, too, Kenma! You're all dressed up!"

Kuroo leaned back to make eye contact with you, laughing. "He almost cancelled on dinner plans with us when he heard that he couldn't wear his sweatpants. He lives in sweatpants exclusively."

Kenma sighed, muttering under his breath, "Maybe I wouldn't if you didn't make a big deal about whenever I'm not." Only you heard his comment, since he was on the edge of the table, but you didn't have any time to reply because the head chef came out of the kitchen, accompanied by a couple of workers behind him, holding the ingredients.

One by one, each round of dishes came and went. Earlier, you'd been worried about wearing a bodycon dress because of the impending food baby you were sure to conceive, but with only dessert left, your stomach felt hardly filled with the sizes of the previous dishes. The process of making each one was mesmerizing to watch, and the flavor profile of each small bite was beyond anything you could have initially imagined when the plates were gently placed in front of you-

You watched the chef spoon generous amounts of black caviar onto the dish. Not dessert, you corrected yourself. Why did you assume to get a deconstructed piece of fried dough when they had called the dish "Donut"? You eyed the tweezers which carefully placed tiny, delicate flowers on top of the spread. A single waiter poured out flutes of champagne and then distributed them to you and your friends, the only noise in the room the fizzing of bubbles in your drink. In fact, the entire affair had been silent aside from the head chef, who explained each meal to your group.

Once the waiter and chef cleared the room, Lev was finally the brave soul to break the silence, who cleared his throat and then, turning to you, asked, "So Y/N, you're moving back home, huh? Is there anything to even do there?”

You knew Lev didn’t mean to say anything offensive, but it still stung a little. He was just blunt to a fault sometimes, you reminded yourself, instead giggling and sending some witty remark back at him which made everyone burst into laughter. You shivered a little, finished the last of your remaining champagne in one undignified gulp, then stared out at Tokyo's skyline, shining and glittering like stars. It was cold in the room, you decided. Ridiculously air-conditioned to the point where you would be glad when you got your coat back and could leave.

The rest of the get-together flew by, only spending a little longer in the restaurant before exiting into the lobby. Kuroo had agreed to drive you back to your apartment, since he'd taken his own car and hadn't drank a lot. Lev gave you a bear hug and told you he would miss you, and that he would try to visit if his modeling schedule worked out in favor of it, but he wasn't sure. Alisa also hugged you tightly, telling you to take care of yourself in the countryside, to which she wrinkled her nose at playfully. When it came to Kenma you refrained from a hug, knowing that he didn't like physical contact. He gave a small smile, appreciative. "I might visit sometime; we can play Animal Crossing."

Then, just like that, the three of them left, Lev and Alisa taking the same car and Kenma having a driver. Kuroo turned to you and raised an eyebrow. "Well? Ready to go?"

You nodded, following him to the front where a valet had already pulled Kuroo's car to the curb, waiting for the two of you. Once inside, you pressed your forehead to the cool window, your breath fogging up the glass. Kuroo made no comment, the only sound to be heard the traffic in the streets.

For what seemed like a few minutes later, you felt yourself being gently shaken awake. "Y/N?" Slowly, you roused, rubbing at your eyes sleepily. You froze, sitting up. Shit, you'd had mascara on.

"Y/N?"

You turned to see Kuroo looking slightly concerned, but you just waved your hand at him. "I'm awake now. Thanks for the ride."

He stared at you, opened his mouth, then shut it promptly, stopping you from opening the car door. You rarely saw him speechless or without something to say. "What's wrong?" You frowned, trying to think of what could be worrying him or making him act like this.

Kuroo shook his head then leaned back in his seat. He scratched the back of his head and looked down. "I'm not sure how to say it, so I'm just going to say it." Immediately you felt dread in the pit of your stomach. Oh, god. Did he have, like, a middle-school crush on her? Was he tongue-tied? You did not want to lose one of your closest guy friends; plus, if you weren't friends with him anymore then you couldn't really be friends with Kenma-

"I'm worried about you, Y/N. Just... take care of yourself in Hyōgo, alright? You're there for a reason; to take a break." He ran a hand through his hair again, nervously. "You know what I'm saying? So just take care of yourself. Don't eat junk food all the time, it's not good for you. Also don't stay indoors all the time, it's good to get outside. You need to synthesize vitamin D," Kuroo rambled, "it's good for your skin, too-"

Finally you broke your silence, smiling and laughing at him. "Aw, Kuroo, you nerrrd," you socked him on the arm, evoking an 'ow' from him. "You're so sweet, what the hell? And don't worry, I'll be fine! I'm great at taking care of myself!" You gave him a thumbs up. When he looked at you dubiously, you added on, "Kaa-san and Tou-san don't live too far from where we used to live, so I can go to them if I need to, too." After a pause, more giggles bubbled out. "I thought- I was really scared that you liked me," you cackled, going into hysterics when he made a face. "I know, I know- I just got worried because I didn't know what you were going to say."

Kuroo rolled his eyes. "Uh, no, I don't like you. Not even platonically, after this," he grumbled, already getting into his theatrics. "I can't believe you're harassing me for caring. You're awful, Y/N!"

You opened your car door, still laughing. "Ok, ok, I'm awful, I'll admit it." You shut the door, and Kuroo rolled down the window.

"Whatever. Just make sure Osamu is driving safely. And text us when you get there. And," he levelled his gaze with yours, "do whatever you feel is best about Kita. Hopefully you take this break to sort through your feelings." Without giving you any time to retort something, Kuroo peeled off in his car, leaving you alone.

Quickly, you made your way into your apartment and finally took off your heels, leaving them near the entrance and sighing when you could walk flat-footed on the cool floor. Next you took off your coat and threw it on the couch, and instead of getting ready to sleep, jumped into your bed and face-planted into the pillows.

You fell asleep in less than five minutes.

You sent your Hyōgo address to Kenma and then flopped on your bed, accidentally banging your head on the headboard. “Fuck,” you hissed, clutching the back of your head. You sat there for a few moments, lamenting why you had to jump onto the bed and how the consequences of your action hurt so bad.

Then your stomach rumbled, begging to be filled, and you forgot everything you had been thinking about, making your way into the kitchen. You opened the fridge, peering in at the contents- or rather lack thereof. At least you didn’t have to worry about clearing your fridge by tonight, right?

Your stomach growled again as you shut the door, instead looking to the freezer. What did you have in there…? It slid open and you were glad to see that it wasn’t as empty as your fridge, rummaging through the frozen meals you had for a late-breakfast-early-lunch.

You pulled out a twelve pack of frozen gyoza and set it aside on the counter, pushing all of the other stuff back into the freezer. When you finally slid it shut again, you sighed in relief, and turned back to the food in question. You read the instructions on the back even though you were pretty sure it was easy to heat them up, and then turned the stove on. Pulling out a pot from your cabinet, you filled it with water and then set it on the stove, topping it with a lid to make the process faster.

Then you got to cleaning. Your apartment wasn’t all that messy since you didn’t spend a lot of time in it before going on hiatus, just a few stacks of paper filled with lyrics: some you’d tried working out, others hadn’t fit your two previous albums, but most you just didn’t like.

You checked on the pot of water to make sure it wasn’t boiling, and after seeing it wasn’t, you continued cleaning, moving into the kitchen once more. You scrubbed the plates and bowls you’d left in the sink for a couple days. Most of the stuff in the sink was silverware from eating takeout or having frozen meals, though.

When you heard and saw that the water was boiling, you added the gyoza and lowered the heat before going back to drying the dishes. By the time you were done with the task, your dumplings were ready, and so you turned off the stove and took the pot off. With a pair of chopsticks, you scooped up the gyoza and placed them onto a plate. You’d eat six and then leave the other half for dinner, you decided, putting them in a bento box for storage and then the fridge.

“Ah…” You sat down on the couch with your food and then turned on the TV, watching mindlessly and eating your gyoza one by one. After a couple of hours, you got up, washed and dried the dishes you’d just used, and then finally went to your room to pack.

Should you take all of your clothes with you? It’s not like you knew how long you were planning to stay in Hyōgo, so should you just pack everything, then? You opened up your closet all the way, clearing out the sections of your regular clothing and placing them on your bed. You turned back to your closet, now significantly emptier. All that was left were things you’d worn on tours or designer pieces you’d been allowed to keep. Most of them you could look at and remember the venues you’d worn them to; recall the quality of your performance and how big the crowd was. It would be pointless to take them with you, right? You couldn’t wear a custom Versace piece to the middle of nowhere.

You sighed and shut the closet door with a resounding thud, and then turned to face the monster pile of clothes you were going to try to fit into two large suitcases…

Ah shit, and you hadn’t even begun to think about shoes.

a/n: help the chapters keep getting longer even though i outline for this fic????? h o w

taglist (pm me to ask to be added): @papiibuprofen​, @duhsies, @succulentmom​​

some ~fun facts~ 

- lev and alisa are models, as in canon

-the food was served in test tubes and other scientist apparatuses LMAO (kuroo got really excited because he’s a chem nerd)

- i based the restaurant off of an actual one in japan but changed some things about it... so for legal reasons™️ all similarities are a coincidence 🧍‍♂️

- i hope y/n doesn’t sound whiny but i find molecular gastronomy to be super esoteric,,, reminds me of that bar scene in parks and rec lmao

- kenma tucks his sweatpants into his socks like the wrestlers at my old high school do... this is unfortunately also canon... 

- yaku couldn’t make it to the dinner event because he’s still in russia, playing volleyball there. he will be coming back to play for japan in the olympics!

- kuroo drives even though he drank a little... don’t do this

- kuroo is NOT interested in y/n romantically 

- i made two kita shirts with my friends during a haikyuu watch party we had… my favorite one got a little messed up and i’m sad 😃 edit: i fucking hate it here they got put in the dryer without my consent and now they’re both ruined ❤️

[amyisherenowitsokay]

You know what just to SPICE it up a bit imma say zadr too bitch

This bitch tryna give me arthritis smdh. Making me out myself for my dual-ship on main, can't even believe a bitch.

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

1. How did they first meet?

School. We must never forget the infamous handcuffs scene.

2. What was their first impression of each other?

Pure, unrivaled loathing.

3. Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Gaz said "kiss already" and throws things at them when they're getting too far away from "I want you dead" territory and well into "you want to fuck me so bad and it makes you look stupid" territory. Professor Membrane thinks they're adorable.

4. Who felt romantic feelings first?

Dib. Hormones get the best of us all. You can only be obsessed with someone so long before motivations get blurry.

5. Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Zim would nearly break his PAK and commit accidental die trying to delete the emotions or install an emotional inhibitor. Dib would have a full mental breakdown trying to sort through it, which would manifest poorly in his behavior and negatively impact his ability to engage in their usual altercations. Pro tip: if you are painfully attracted to someone, being in a position where they pin you to the asphalt or lean over your desk to hiss insults at you is a bad idea.

6. If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

I stand by what I said on my ZAGR post in that Zim doesn't know what a soulmate is, or the concept of a soul, but given this is in regards to his arch-nemesis instead of a creature he's mostly indifferent too, he'd be pissed at the insinuation he was in any way bound to Dib. Dib's fragile psyche would not survive the revelation.

7. What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Really empty. Their rivalry and parallel situations regarding neglectful authority figures is what keeps them going for so many years.

GENERAL

1. Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

As someone who thinks Zim doesn't understand even the concept of not being a possessive jackass, I think Zim just sort of concludes after awhile that, regardless of Dib's feelings, or even Zim's own feelings, whatever they have makes them wholly and entirely each other's. Just completely and hilariously misunderstanding the concept of a relationship, but still being incredibly presumptive in assuming they already have one. He also doesn't let Dib know of this revelation either, so eventually Dib explodes about his crush, and Zim's like "we are already together???? moron???" Dib could argue, and he kind of wants to, but he also never expected Zim to reciprocate, so he just sort of nods and is like "you know what, sure" and that's the end of it. They do not have an anniversary, but Dib's not really like that, and Zim doesn't know anniversaries are a thing anyways.

2. Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Again, stealing from my own ZAGR post, but I don't think Zim's really a 'date' person who would plan out that sort of thing. Dib is an awkward moron with arguably worse social skills than even Zim, and mentally comes to the conclusion that dragging Zim on investigations is basically like a date, and Zim doesn't bitch about it anymore than expected, therefore he is a master of romance, so it's fine.

3. What was their first kiss like?

Awkward, and quick. Dib is not a great communicator, nor is he great at explaining things like human demonstrations of affection, especially not when Zim's scowling impatiently at him through is fumbling and stuttering. He just goes for it, and it's quick and he misses his mouth almost. Zim is extremely surprised, especially when Dib makes terrible excuses about needing to be elsewhere and flees. Zim does his own research, and their second kiss is predated by a lecture about being better than Dib at everything/Dib being bad at everything. It is much more successful, even if afterwards Dib instigates a fight about Zim's tongue being weird.

4. Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

First everything, except kiss. Gretchen kissed Dib in high school as a dare. Zim will never forgive her for it.

5. What’s their height difference? Age difference?

I'd die to make them the same height, but I think the image of Zim being average height while Dib is a gangly big boi is just too funny. Zim would be pissed, and Dib would be so smug but so uncoordinated.

6. What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Gaz interacts with them as minimally as possible, because they are loud and gross and annoying, but she's okay with Zim overall. They have a mutual understanding that Dib is stupid, completely reckless, and requires constant supervision to keep him from getting eaten by a ghoul or something. Gaz does genuinely trust him to skewer anything that tries to kill her brother, but she also knows that Dib isn't the only one with 0 sense of self-preservation. Dib was initially wary of Professor Membrane's reaction, because his dad is sort of unpredictable when it comes to his only son, but the Professor's only commentary is that he is glad his son finally made it official with his 'little green friend.' Dib then realizes that the implication in that perpetual comment about Zim had air quotes around that "friend" part all along.

Dib thinks Gir's gross and loud and doesn't get him, but he likes to team up with him and/or use him as a means to annoy Zim. The Base hates him, because now there's two morons with no sense of self-preservation that it needs to keep track of. Minimoose and Dib are bros.

7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

Zim, if only because he is arguably more 'charming' than Dib's fumbling attempts at communication with non-paranormal parties.

8. Who gets jealous easier?

Zim. Dib I think would have his 'HTTYD Hiccup moment' as he gets older, but still has that ingrained low self-esteem from years of ridicule and abuse. He is completely oblivious to the new attention he gets. Zim, however, is not. Dib never really notices the cause of his weird snarling and clinginess, but he shrugs it off as Zim just being weird and continues with whatever he was doing.

9. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

Zim is a slut, I will die on this hill.

LOVE

1. Who said “I love you” first?

Dib. He says it casually, in the dark, when they're on a stake-out to find some wood goblin or something. He says it like he's talking about something plane and unremarkable.

I think a ZADR relationship would need Zim to be a lot more independent in terms of researching how romantic relationships 'work,' since Dib's not a great communicator, and there's an ingrained rivalry that will never dissolve between them, no matter how many times they kiss, so Zim would be a lot more motivated to figure things out on his own. He would, in this circumstance, know the weight of Dib's way-too-casual admittance, and it would be a huge shock to him. He'd be pretty shaken about it for awhile, and Dib's not bothered when he doesn't reply. Dib would be pretty sure Zim would never admit it, but he does, eventually, because he refuses to be a coward about it.

2. What are their primary love languages?

Verbal affirmations. With their self-esteems firmly in the toilet in Zim's kitchen, being able to have someone validate them who they respect would mean a lot to them.

3. Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

Dib. He uses it to start fights with Zim about linguistics and metaphors. Also, he's 99.9% positive Zim secretly is flattered by it, but hates that he is.

4. How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Zim is very clingy, but Dib's too on the move to really pin down for a good cuddle frequently. He's twitchy and his minds always racing, but every once in a while when Zim's completely fed up, or Dib's running on fumes but still forcing himself on, Zim will all but pin him to a cushioned surface and force him to sleep. Neither of them are PDA people.

5. Who initiates kisses?

Zim. Dib's really shy about it, and also normally too distracted to pay Zim the attention he so obviously deserves, and often misses Zim's 'signals.'

6. Who’s the big and little spoon?

PAK not comfy against sternum. It's also easier to force Dib to sleep if he's the big spoon, because he can pin his limbs.

7. What are their favorite things to do together?

Paranormal investigations, and morally ambiguous and/or largely dangerous experiments.

8. Who’s better at comforting the other?

Dib, which is hilarious, because he's about as smooth as a cheese grater, but he is very attuned to the person he's been obsessed with for years, and he can also relate to a lot of his issues. While Zim usually shrugs off the sentimentality and the empathy, dismissing it as 'pity,' the affirmation means a lot to him.

9. Who’s more protective?

Zim. He has to anticipate his lover's stupidity to make sure he stays alive to hunt ghosts another day.

10. Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Verbal. Hormones are real, but there's something that eases the sting of years of abusive in a crooning praise or a sincere compliment.

11. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

https://open.spotify.com/track/3IvUhEVbbA81QnEVhsFHiH?si=b3c5787c9ff14105

12. What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

It is primarily age-old insults that lack the bite and sincerity they once had.

13. Who remembers the little things?

Dib. Zim isn't inattentive by any means, cataloguing all of Dib's weird habits and nuances and what not, but for all the compensating Zim does to keep Dib safe and healthy, Dib reciprocates in meaningful gestures. He remembers to pack Zim-friendly snacks on their road trips and ways to keep Gir entertained, if they have to bring him. He always checks the weather and has an extra coat, just in case. Never makes Zim feel bad about needing to check, just one more time, to see if he got any incoming messages from home.

DOMESTIC LIFE

1. If they get married, who proposes?

Dib.

2. What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

It's just Gaz, Minimoose, and Gir. Membrane is too far away to attend, but that was deliberate. Dib didn't want his tendency to make things about 'the Membrane line' effect the intimacy and importance of the ceremony. Also, Zim insists on incorporating some Irken rituals into it, so it'd be hard to make excuses and explanations to why Zim wants Dib to fuck with his weird pink backpack during their wedding.

3. How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

No kiddos. Neither of them would be interested, even if it was biologically possible.

4. Do they have any pets?

Seriously, Gir counts, right?

5. Who’s the stricter parent?

Dib. Zim refuses to parent Gir when Dib is more inclined to do it, since he's more irritated by it.

6. Who worries the most?

Dib has perpetual anxiety. So does Zim, but he masks it better.

7. Who kills the bugs in the house?

Dib, to prevent the gooey grossness that is Gir's bug-breath.

8. How do they celebrate holidays?

Just with Gaz.

9. Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Zim will strap Dib to a bed himself to get him to go the fuck to sleep, because it's been over 48 hours you insufferable human, and--!

10. Who’s the better cook?

Dib's idea of cooking is a microwave, salt, and pepper. Zim is forced to learn the wonders of human food to keep his idiot from dying of malnutrition.

11. Who likes to dance?

Gir.

[pastelwitchling]

Under the Sea bonus story! I had so much fun returning to this world and these characters. I just really wanted to write a little epilogue sort of chapter. If you enjoy reading at all, please comment and share, it always makes the world of a difference 💙

               Alex heard the laughter of dolphins in his ears, the rush of bubbles against his cheeks as fish swam past. He opened his eyes to treasure; stones of different colors and sizes covered the ocean floor, seaweed, coral, sea creatures of all kinds floated past.

               Once upon a time, Alex had feared the ocean as he feared nothing else. Now he knew he was safe in its waters, for the love of his life resided there. He felt hands on his hips, pulling him back against a warm chest, even under the cold water, and he laughed. He was safe, a bubble of air protecting his head down to the base of his neck.

               “Have you no decency?” Alex asked even as he tilted his chin up, giving Forrest more access to his skin.

               “I wish to kiss my fiancé,” murmured Forrest with a grin against Alex’s neck. “Am I not allowed?”

               “Not here,” he huffed, “where someone might see us.”

               Forrest turned Alex around, making him laugh. He held his face in his hands, the gold band on his finger cold against Alex’s cheek. Forrest’s long blue and gold tail swayed calmly in the water below them, but his voice was in a near growl when he spoke, “I care not who sees us. Let them envy me, for I am the one to marry the most handsome man in all of the oceans and on land combined.”

               Even under the water, Alex’s cheeks heated and he hid his face in Forrest’s shoulder. “Honestly . . .”

               “Don’t you dare look down,” Forrest whispered, tilting down so that his forehead pressed against Alex’s, the blue and gold in his dark eyes glimmering with an overwhelming fondness and love that threatened to kill Alex in the best way.

               As he neared, Alex’s mouth instinctively fell open, and he found himself closing the distance between them, eager to taste Forrest’s lips in his, when suddenly –

               “Oi! Can’t you keep your hands off each other for two bloody minutes?!” Kyle appeared, his green and gold fin swimming behind him. He grabbed Alex’s arm and tugged. “Stop hogging him all to yourself!”

               “Oh, leave them alone, Kyle,” Maria sighed dreamily. “They’re in love.”

               “They have their entire lives to be in love!” Kyle demanded. “I have only another short moment while Alex is a free man!”

               Forrest wrapped his arms around Alex’s shoulders, his smile in place, but his eyes dark. “And what exactly do you assume will happen between you and Alex?”

               “Don’t be such a stiff, Forrest,” Kyle rolled his eyes, tugging Alex, and therefore Forrest, closer. “I just want to talk to him. Without you.”

               “That’s simply not going to happen.”

               “Don’t you trust me?” teased Alex.

               “Implicitly,” said Forrest without a moment’s hesitation, and narrowed his eyes at Kyle. “It’s his wandering hands I don’t trust.”

               Alex laughed and kissed Forrest’s cheek. He nuzzled his neck. Even underwater, as fish tickled his feet and the world turned to a peaceful silence around them, Alex could still smell Forrest. Even down here, he smelled like the ocean.

                “Who knew,” teased Jenna, the white pearls in her hair making her look like an angel, “that Forrest could be so possessive?”

               “I did,” Kyle huffed, “since we first found Alex and he wouldn’t let any of us near him.”

               “I was being protective,” Forrest insisted. “Oh, enough of all of you. Come along, my love. We’ve been down here long enough and soon people will start to wake. We best get back to the surface so that I can change to my human form.”

               Alex nodded, but accepted the hugs from Kyle and the others first. Forrest had been right in that Kyle held on longer than the others, squeezing him tightly enough to make him laugh, and then he had his arms around Forrest again.

               “Hold on tight to me, my love,” Forrest whispered into the space between them. Alex remembered a year ago when Forrest had said the same thing to him before saving him from the cavern and returning him to his home. Alex had held on trustingly. Forrest had been his one small relief, even if he hadn’t really known him.

               Now, as they rose to the surface together, Alex was filled with laughter, his chest overflowing with love for the merman before him. When they broke the surface, the cold hit them first, but Alex clung to Forrest’s warmth.

               “Go on,” Forrest encouraged him, his lips against Alex’s ear. “I’ll be right behind you.”

               Alex nodded, and let go of Forrest. He swam to the shore, and walked up the rest of the way. As he stepped out of the waves, he saw the water change color, as though someone were shining a bright blue light underneath the surface, and he turned to find Forrest standing in the water, the waves lapping around his naked waist. His blue hair and the blue glow of his eyes were gone, and his still-glowing blue seashell nestled in his collarbone. Alex smiled. He loved this version of Forrest just as much, for the magic of the sea never seemed to leave him no matter what form he took.

               Alex reached for the hidden clothes he kept wrapped in a towel behind a boulder, and handed them to Forrest. Once they were both dried and dressed, they made their usual way up the far left stone steps to the street above.

               The marketplace was still mostly bare, but Alex spotted a merchant here and there, preparing their stall for the day. Some waved good morning to him and Forrest, some congratulated them, some merely ogled.

               “I hate when they stare,” Alex murmured.

               Forrest grinned. “They can scarcely ignore your beauty, darling. Don’t begrudge them for it. I can hardly resist staring at you myself.”

               Alex blushed. “That’s different! And it’s not me they’re watching, it’s you!”

               He laughed. “So you’re jealous, then?”

               “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, and kissed Forrest’s cheek for good measure.

               When the wooden sign for Le Gateau au Chocolat – Gregory and Isobel’s pastry shop – came into view, Alex and Forrest decided to race the rest of the way. They both reached the door out of breath with giggles. Alex had won by only a small margin. Forrest had been getting much better at using his legs.

               “Oh, Alex, good,” Gregory called from behind the counter. “I’ve decided to change the chicken to beef for tonight.”

               Alex faltered. “Isn’t beef expensive?”

               Isobel came in from the kitchens. She wiped her hands on her apron and put them on her hips. “Don’t you go worrying about that. We’ve taken care of it.”

               Alex looked to Forrest, suspicious. “You didn’t . . .?”

               Forrest leapt onto the counter. “Oh, I certainly offered. What’s the point of being a king with riches if I cannot spoil my love? But no, your brother and sister would not hear of it. This time.”

               “Stop it,” Gregory scolded. “We’re older, we take care of you, that’s how it works.”

               Forrest hummed, and his eyes brightened. “Until Alex and I are married. Then he’s all mine.”

               Alex caught Isobel’s amused look, and turned away, his face red. He cleared his throat. “Anyhow. What time’s the dinner?”

               “Eight,” Gregory pointed. “Do not be late, both of you. Oh” – he dusted some of the sand off Forrest’s jacket – “and try not to mention any merpeople, will you? The last thing we need is for Liz and Max to know the truth, too.”

               “They wouldn’t tell anyone,” Alex defended.

               Gregory and Isobel shared a look, and Isobel sighed. “We can’t risk Michael finding out, Alex. I love my brother, but . . .” she shook her head. “Ever since you announced your engagement, he’s been . . .”

               “He isn’t happy,” Gregory said. “Let’s put it that way.”

               Alex sat down, and looked at the band on his finger. A circle of gold with an aquamarine jewel imbedded in the center. He hated to admit it, but in the moments after his excitement at marrying Forrest had faded, Michael had come to mind. What he would think, how he would feel, react. He’d been anxious, and now he knew he was right to have been.

               “It’ll be all right though, won’t it?” he asked, hearing the plea in his own voice.

               Forrest’s smile dimmed. He never liked the mention of Michael, but he leapt from the counter regardless, stumbled, then came to sit in front of Alex. He took his hands in both of his and kissed his fingers.

               “Everything will be perfect, my love,” he promised. “I’m certain he will come to this dinner with kindness and happiness in his heart. He will be happy only that you are happy.” He hesitated, then, “You . . . are happy, aren’t you?”

               “Oh,” Alex breathed, and wrapped his arms around Forrest’s shoulders tightly, burying his face in the crook of his neck. “I love you more than I can say. I’m sorry, my darling, I don’t mean to imply any different.”

               “Really, Alex,” Isobel assured him, “you’ve no reason to worry about Michael. I’ll make sure of it.”

               Alex sighed, resting his head on Forrest’s shoulder. “I just want everything to be perfect.” He played with Forrest’s fingers. “You’re a king after all, you must have standards.”

               “I do,” Forrest nodded. “Absolutely. If it’s not Alex, then I will not have it.”

               “Oi, keep your distance, you two,” Gregory warned with his wooden spoon. “We have customers coming in soon, and this is no pub!”

               Forrest had Alex’s face in his hands, and was nuzzling his nose. He whispered, “I don’t see any customers now.”

               He took Alex’s lips in his own, one hand reaching into his hair, the other cupping his neck. Alex whimpered in the back of his throat, and Forrest tilted his head to deepen the kiss, their mouths slotting perfectly together, Forrest’s tongue sliding against his own.

               He ran his hands down Forrest’s chest, and then Gregory threw a rag over their heads. “Were you not listening?” he snapped. “Your engagement dinner’s tonight, can you not contain yourselves?!”

               Forrest pointed at Alex’s face, incredulous. “Have you seen him?”

               Alex hid his face in Forrest’s shoulder, embarrassed, as Isobel laughed loudly.

                 “Which looks better?” Liz asked, holding up a deep green dress, and a bright red. “This one? Or this one?”

               “I think you look beautiful in both,” Alex said cheerfully. Forrest sat next to him, eagerly shoveling down the biscuits Gregory had given them to have after lunch. Every so often, he offered Alex one, Alex shook his head, and then he ate the entire thing in one bite.

               “Mmh – yes,” said Forrest. “Beau—ifful.”

               “Oh, you both are useless,” Rosa sighed from where she sat on the counter. “Obviously, the red is terribly unsuitable.”

               Liz frowned. “Is it?”

               “Yes!” she took a biscuit from Forrest’s plate. “This is an engagement dinner. The red should clearly be saved for the wedding!”

               “Do you think so, Alex?” Liz asked.

               “Er – actually –”

               “What’re you asking him for?” Rosa huffed. “You know he’s too nice to tell you the truth!”

               Liz opened her mouth to argue when the front door swung open. Max smiled at them.

               “Good afternoon, all!” He ruffled Alex and Rosa’s hair, and kissed Liz’s cheek. “Afternoon, darling.”

               “Did you see the suit I put out for you?” Liz said in lieu of a greeting.

               “Yes, darling.”

               “Don’t you dare wear it until the dinner.”

               Max’s smile widened. “Yes, darling.”

               “We have to look our best for Alex and Forrest,” she said. Then she mumbled something incoherent to him and they glanced at Alex, as though afraid he’d heard. Max merely nodded in response.

                “Honestly,” said Alex, leaning against Forrest’s side. “You don’t have to go through all this fuss. It’s just going to be a small, comfortable dinner.”

               Liz put her hands on her hips. “Then why did Flint order a new navy-blue coat for the occasion?”

               “Did he?” Alex blinked, and flushed. Since their last voyage, he had feared for his relationship with his brother, the distance the truth about their mother’s death may put between them. He had seemed happy to be invited to the engagement dinner, but Alex had feared it had been an act. To know he cared this much, it gladdened Alex’s heart more than he could say.

               Rosa scoffed. “Well, I won’t need any help preparing. I know exactly what to wear.”

               “Yes,” Liz said testily, “but will you know how to behave?”

               “Oi!” she argued. “Don’t you start with me, it’s Michael you should be concerned about!”

               Liz shot her a sharp look, while Max turned a nervous smile on Alex and Forrest. Forrest had stopped eating.

               “She’s joking,” Max assured them. “Michael’s really happy for you, Alex.”

               Forrest smiled, but it was polite and cold, not at all what Alex was used to. “I trust he will be on his best behaviour.” Then he grumbled, “If not, I’ll throw him into the middle of the ocean.”

               Alex hooked his arm around Forrest’s and kissed his shoulder. “Are there any more biscuits left for me?” he murmured.

               Forrest’s eyes lit up at once, and he handed Alex the largest he had. “I saved it for you, my love!”

               Alex laughed, his heart and the atmosphere of the shop lighter at once.

                 Forrest insisted on watching the sunset before dinner, but Alex had not needed much persuasion. Once they’d excused themselves from the shop, they made their way down the street, Forrest’s arm hooked around Alex’s. There was a time he had clung to him to walk, but now he stayed close for the sake of staying close itself. Forrest played with his fingers, and Alex kissed the back of his hand.

               “Congratulations, dears!” Mrs. Valenti called for what felt like the millionth time, as she liked to congratulate them whenever they passed by. “Isn’t it so exciting, Mr. Higgins?”

               “Eh?” Mr. Higgins chuckled good-naturedly. “Yes, yes, terribly happy for them!”

               Forrest’s eyes lingered, once again, on the frozen fish in Mr. Higgins’ market stall, but at a kiss to his cheek from Alex, his eyes brightened once again.

               Instead of going down to shore, they sat on the brick wall that overlooked the ocean, their legs dangling over the end. The sand below was soft, so there was no fear of falling. Nonetheless, Forrest kept a tight arm around Alex’s waist, and Alex felt safe.

               The sky turned to rose and violet and gold as the sun fell behind the ocean’s surface. Alex asked if Forrest had seen plenty of sunsets before.

               “I try to,” he confessed, “but there’s quite a risk of being seen by sailors, even so far out at sea.”

               Alex shuddered as he thought of Forrest tied to a ship’s mast, at sailors who were happy to harm him because of what he was. He burrowed deeper into his side and nuzzled his neck.

               “I will never let anyone touch you again, sailor or otherwise,” he promised in a whisper.

               Forrest kissed the top of his head. “And I will protect you with my life.”

               “Will I ever see your underwater kingdom?” Alex asked.

               Forrest laughed. “Certainly,” he said. “I will have a room prepared where not a drop of water would dare to enter.”

               Alex closed his eyes and let the sun’s warmth bathe them both in gold. “I don’t fear drowning with you at my side.”

               “And you never shall have to,” Forrest told him, his hold tightening and promising a king’s protection.

               They kissed in the setting sun until their lips swelled. They kissed until Forrest’s hand sought out the hem of Alex’s shirt, and Alex realized that if they did not stop soon, they would not stop at all. Then all those walking on the street behind them would have a true reason to stare. They kissed until Alex started to want nothing more than to fall to the sand below with Forrest in his arms, and forget the engagement dinner entirely. To prove their love another way.

               Then he took Forrest’s wrist and pressed their foreheads together, the two panting, and pulled them both to their feet at the first signs of the evening stars. They went hand-in-hand, laughing, back to the pastry shop.

               Alex told Forrest about the gold coat he’d asked Liz for him to wear, and Forrest told Alex about the deep blue ocean flower he’d acquired for Alex’s coat pocket.

               Then a voice cut through their conversation like knife through ice.

               “Alex,” Michael said with a nod. “Forrest.” His eyes fell on Alex and Forrest’s intertwined hands. “Am I too early?”

               His voice was subdued, and Forrest’s eyes had darkened.

               “Good evening, Michael,” he said, his grip on Alex’s hand tightening. “Not at all. Please, come in.”

                 “Are you nervous?” Forrest asked from where he sat on the edge of Alex’s bed. Alex watched him through the mirror’s reflection.

               Alex pulled on his coat and took a seat beside him. He interlocked their hands. “Are you?”

               Forrest smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “Only that you will change your mind.”

               Alex raised a brow. “Do you truly imagine my heart so fickle?”

               Forrest’s grip on his hand tightened. “I imagine that there is no one who can love as you can. I know it. It is for that reason that I cannot help but worry. He was your first love.”

               “And you are my last,” Alex told him. “That carries far more weight, in my opinion.”

               Downstairs, they could hear the muffled clinking of cups and plates as the sky turned dark and stars peeked out. In the distance, the waves lapped against the shore softly, a comforting reminder that there was always somewhere they could escape to, somewhere where the troubles of land could not follow.

               Forrest said nothing for a long while, then, “I do not want to see you harmed.”

               “I could only be harmed by losing you,” Alex promised him. “I am marrying a king, it is you who has far more prospects.”

               Forrest scoffed half-heartedly. “I will tell you what I’ve already told your brother; have you seen you?”

               Alex burst into giggles, his face warm. He felt the soft touch of Forrest’s lips to his cheek. The laughter faded as they pressed their foreheads together, Alex’s eyes closed as he breathed Forrest in.

               “Stay close to me,” he whispered.

               Forrest nodded once, his lips brushing Alex’s. “Forever.”

                 Dinner had started off well. Alex and Forrest descended down the staircase to the shop where a long table sat and fairy lights had been hung up. The table lay covered with platters of beef, cheese, fruit and bread. Glasses of wine sat at every chair. Isobel and Gregory had truly outdone themselves.

               Liz sat between Max and Rosa. Beside Max was Michael, Isobel, Gregory, and Flint. Forrest pulled out Alex’s chair for him, making him blush, and kissed the top of his head before taking the seat beside him. Alex did not dare glance at Michael.

               For the most part, they shared in their stories, and though Forrest could not share many of his own for fear of exposing himself, he seemed quite content to listen to Alex’s versions of his bravery and kindness.

               “I hear you were responsible for helping to save Alex,” Michael told Forrest, for he had but one of the many different stories of Alex and Forrest’s first meeting. He bowed his head once. “I sincerely thank you.”

               “I could not see anything happen to him,” Forrest said, smiling at Alex. “It was love at first sight, you see.”

               Alex hoped Michael would not respond, but then he said, “Yes, I understand the feeling.” He was looking directly at Alex, his gaze pointed as though he was trying to share a secret message with him.

               Then Forrest took Alex’s hand and kissed the aquamarine bracelet he’d given him so many months ago on the shore. “All right, darling?” he whispered, and Alex nodded, the smile returning to his lips at Forrest’s eyes on him.

               “Goodness, Alex,” Liz sighed. “I do love that bracelet. Forrest made that for him,” she told Michael, “did you know?”

               “Purely for selfish reasons,” Forrest confessed. “I’ve always wanted to see Alex in aquamarine. He looks so beautiful with it, doesn’t he?”

               “Where did you get that?” Flint murmured. “Bottom of the ocean?”

               Gregory nudged Flint with his elbow, but the five of them were already laughing at the private joke.

               “Honestly, Forrest,” grinned Isobel, “do you care about anything but Alex?”

               Forrest hummed, eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t think so. Why?” he asked, genuinely confused when everyone save for Michael started laughing, “Is there anything else to care about?”

               “I would think someone of your position would have plenty,” Gregory thoughtlessly said.

               Rosa frowned. “What do you mean, of his position?”

               Gregory’s eyes widened and Alex tensed. Forrest, after all, was a king. He had plenty of concerns, yet the others at the table did not know that.

               It was Isobel who chuckled nervously and said, “Well, you see, Forrest is very wealthy. He has so much to tend to back in – er –”

               “Paris,” Gregory quickly finished. “Because, as you all know, he is from Paris. Isn’t that right, Forrest?”

               “Certainly,” Forrest nodded. “I am from Paris.”

               Everyone returned to their meat and potatoes when all of a sudden a loud CLANK! drove all other conversation away. Michael had roughly set his fork and knife down.

               “Is that why you chose him?” Michael asked, breaking the heavy silence. “Because he’s so much wealthier than I am?”

               Alex was staring, brows furrowed. He set his utensils down delicately. When he spoke, his voice was cold to his own ears, something fierce and protective overwhelming him. “I beg your pardon?”

               Michael scoffed, shaking his head. There was nothing humorous about it.

               “Michael,” Max warned, but Michael was already seething.

               “I thought it was odd,” he said. “You’d known him for such a short time, yet you fell in love so quickly. Is that why, Alex? He could take better care of you than I could?”

               “Michael,” Isobel hissed, “enough.”

               “Is that why you wouldn’t even give me another chance?”

               Forrest stood at once, but Alex took his arm. He’d never seen Forrest’s glare so full of anger.

               “I will thank you,” Gregory said darkly, “to mind your manners, Michael.”

               “I’m sorry,” Michael said, crossing his arms on top of the table, his eyes on Alex. “I’m sorry that I’m the only one who will acknowledge that there is too much about Forrest that we don’t know. I’m sorry if I’m the only one who wishes to make certain that Alex is not throwing his life away at the first man to offer him comfort after heartbreak.”

               “No, you’re right,” Flint said, slumping in his seat. “I’d much rather my brother stay with someone who hurt him.”

               “Please,” Alex said quietly, and the table turned silent. He raised his chin and held Michael’s gaze. “Forrest saved my life in more ways than I could say. I did not know of his wealth until I’d already loved him, and even if I had, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

               “Alex –”

               “You are a guest,” Alex told him sternly, “in my home. Forrest is my fiancé, and I expect you to treat him with respect.” His shoulders fell, his tone turned pleading. “I want you to be a part of my life, Michael. Please don’t make me push you out of it.”

               Michael stared back for a long moment, his jaw clenched. Then he stood, murmured an apology, and left.

               Forrest wrapped an arm around Alex’s shoulders, keeping him close. He pressed soft kisses to his ear, his cheek, his jaw as Gregory and Isobel made quick work of returning the rest of the table to cheerier conversation.

               Later that night, Alex woke in bed to find Forrest’s side empty. He sat up, looking through the house, and softly called for Forrest in the shop. When he did not find his fiancé at home, panic began to rise in his chest until he forced it down. His father could not harm Forrest any longer, yet Alex knew he would not rest until he saw his love’s face again.

               Realizing there was only one place Forrest could be, Alex quickly threw on a coat and his boots, and made his way down to the shore. There, with his knees pulled up to his chest amongst the waves, sat Forrest, staring out at the ocean. His blue seashell glittered at his neck.

               Alex hesitated, then came and sat beside him.

               “Are you upset with me?” were his first words.

               Forrest frowned. “What in the soundless seas for?”

               “The dinner,” he said. “I told Michael I – I wanted him in my life.”

               A smirk tugged at Forrest’s lips. “That is no secret, Alex. I’ve known it since before I met you. Don’t you remember?”

               Alex did. Forrest had told him that that was when he had first fallen in love with him; when he’d heard Alex speaking of Michael to the stars.

               “Forrest,” he said, “I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. Stronger than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

               Forrest chuckled. “You dove into the ocean to save me, Alex. I don’t question your love.”

               “Yet you’re here,” he said, his chin on Forrest’s shoulder, “instead of in bed with me.”

               Forrest turned to him, kissing his nose. “I fear the mess of my thoughts might’ve troubled your sleep.”

               “I am only troubled when you are not there,” he murmured, and kissed Forrest’s shoulder.

               “You will never regret me?” asked Forrest.

               Alex clenched his jaw. “You are a king. I am a mere human. What could I possibly offer you?”

               Forrest cupped Alex’s cheek fiercely, his hold tight. He let his hand fall down Alex’s jaw, his neck, and settled on his opened coat collar. As he leaned in, he whispered the words, as though he was shocked Alex did not know the answer already.

               “You.”

               Before Alex could say anything else, Forrest kissed him. Their lips pressed together again and again, and when Alex felt Forrest’s tongue slide against his own, a moan escaped his lips. When Forrest began kissing down his chin, his neck, Alex looked around to make certain that no one was watching. But then this was the middle of the night. He didn’t think anyone would be awake for hours.

               The waves turned suddenly warm as they washed around Forrest and Alex, as their kisses deepened, as Forrest’s fingers undid the buttons of Alex’s coat and gently pushed him onto his back. The kisses turned rougher, more eager, and Alex felt as though they would never move away from one another again.

               Alex released a breathy moan as he ran his hands up Forrest’s naked back. He imagined them, lying nude on the beach, Forrest thrusting into him, licking a line along his neck, the cold quickly turning to heat so thick that Alex couldn’t breathe and was happy to suffocate.

               He ran his hands down Forrest’s bare cheeks, urging him in deeper. He was so in love he could hardly stand it. This man, bathed in moonlight and showered with drops of the ocean, was to be his husband.

               Alex took Forrest’s face in his hands and kissed him as he’d never kissed anyone before. Forrest was all his, the beautiful merman of blue and gold belonged to him. He never imagined, that year ago when he’d first embarked on his father’s voyage, that he would find such joy. When he’d fallen over the ship’s edge and his world had changed forever.

               The ocean waves hit the shore with a gentle shushing sound, protecting Alex and Forrest from searching eyes. They were safe here, Alex was safe here. With Forrest, with the ocean, with the life he’d been given when it seemed he’d been destined to drown.

               “Hold on tight to me,” Forrest told him. And so Alex did.

[ikeromantic]

A Little While Longer

A Mitsuhide Akechi story, approx. 1500 words of fluff and spiciness.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: The Fox Path

Mitsuhide knelt to make a small fire. After riding through the night and most of the day, it was safe enough to stop. Besides, his little mouse couldn’t handle much more no matter what brave face she put on it. 

“Didn’t you tell me this part of the forest was haunted by a vengeful ghost?” She was setting out their bed rolls when she asked, trying to pretend there wasn’t an edge of nervousness to the question.

“Did I? Hmmm.” Mitsuhide grinned.

She tossed a pebble at him. “You are so mean.”

“I am. But not to my little one. Just keep your bedroll close to mine and I’ll make sure you’re safe for the night.” 

“You’re just saying that to get me in arm’s reach.” She settled her bedroll beside his.

Mitsuhide pretended wide-eyed surprise. “Am I? Oh dear. But then, you’re moving your bedroll so I must assume you don’t object.”

“Well . . . I might not.” She was blushing again and wouldn’t look directly at him. 

He grinned his crescent moon smile. “I’m glad to hear it.” 

They unpacked their camp items and settled the horses in companionable silence. Mitsuhide couldn’t help the way his eyes followed her, or all the little reasons he found to touch her. Brushing fingertips as they reached for the same item. Bumping shoulders while they unsaddled the horses. Resting his palm on her back when she stood close. 

“I - I guess I can boil some water. I got some dried noodles for us when I was shopping,” the chatelaine said, but didn’t move away from his touch.

Mitsuhide stroked her back lightly, running his fingers in little circles. She seemed to like that. “Let me boil the water. I have a little surprise for you.”

“Oh?” She looked up, eyes half-lidded.

“Mmm, a spring just a little ways into the trees. We were fairly close to it the first time we camped in these woods. I thought you might enjoy a bath. Even if it’s cold.”

His little mouse laughed softly. “If anyone had a hidden hotspring it would be you. I’m almost disappointed. But that sounds nice. A quick, cold bath before dinner and bed. Can you show me where it is?”

Mitsuhide walked her to the spring. It was a deep pool that fed into a narrow creek. Really only a little larger than a bath, with dark granite sides and sandy bottom. The afternoon light glinted off the still water, and the bamboo swayed and creaked. 

“Are you sure it’s safe here? No ghosts?” The chatelaine looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Certainly not in broad daylight,” he chuckled. “But if you like, I can stay here and keep watch?”

“Pffft. As if I’d let you just - just watch me.” Her eyes told a different story. Conflict between her pride and desire. 

Mitsuhide ruffled her hair. “It’s not as if I haven’t seen you nude. But as you like.” He turned to leave. “If you need me, just scream.” He dodged the twig she tossed his way without looking. 

He had to admit, it was hard to wait for her there. He busied himself with little tasks. Boiling the water, shifting the bedrolls. Staring up at the trees and imagining what she was doing right that second. Ah, to be a water drop . . .

The noodles were ready by the time she returned. Bits of dried fish and pepper made a nice broth for them - or at least it smelled good. For Mitsuhide, there was only edible and inedible. He hoped his little mouse approved even if it was nowhere near the delicacies Masamune could prepare. 

She came back, her hair wet and hanging down her back. Her clothes were loosely tied, her skin still damp. 

“Feel better?”

“A little cold, but yeah.” She sat down beside him and leaned into his shoulder. “Something smells good. Did you cook?”

“I boiled some things in a pot.” 

She tasted the broth and smiled. “It’s good.” 

They ate together, sharing the spoon. Mitsuhide enjoyed every bite, mostly because he teasingly convinced his little one to feed him. It was entertaining to watch how carefully she moved. But the best part was when he took the spoon from her.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Returning the favor. Now open your mouth -” He held the spoon up, blowing lightly across the soup.

“I can do that myself.”

“But you don’t have too.” He leaned closer, the spoon between them, until there was barely a hairsbreadth between the spoon and her lips. “Open wide.”

Her expression was mortified but she did what he told her to. 

“There. It wasn’t too hot? Not too much?”

“Nope. Now give me the spoon.” The chatelaine held her hand out.

“It is your turn to feed me, yes?” Mitsuhide’s eyes glinted with mischief.

“You are enjoying this too much.” 

Mitsuhide shrugged. “I will not deny it.”

With dinner finished, they both washed up at the creek and packed everything away. It would be a cold breakfast in the saddle tomorrow to put more distance between them and Chugoku. Mitsuhide wondered if Yoshiaki or the daimyo sent anyone to follow them this far. It was possible they might be dogged all the way to Azuchi. He doubted it though. Too much trouble for them and too little reward.

“You know, you should probably take a bath too.” The chatelaine poked his arm. “I can wait here by the fire. I don’t mind.”

“It will be dark. Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. You’ll be right back, so I don’t mind.” She wrinkled her nose. “Besides, you need it.”

Mitsuhide felt mildly offended. “I see. Then maybe you should come with me and inspect my work. I’d hate to return and find I am not clean enough to suit your tastes.”

This had the desired effect of reducing his little one to a stammering blush. 

He grinned. “Then if you won’t inspect me, I expect no complaints.” 

“Pfft. That’s - that’s not - I can’t -” She sighed, flustered.

Mitsuhide ruffled her hair. “No complaints then.” 

He left her at the camp and walked to the spring. It was dark enough that the frogs and lizards were scurrying in the underbrush now, and the crickets were singing to the darkening sky. Mitsuhide felt at peace. Even knowing this was temporary - he had to savor this moment. He undid the ties on his clothes and hung them in a nearby tree. Naked and feeling oddly vulnerable, he lowered himself into the cold spring water. It wasn’t as bad as he expected - just a little cooler than the air. 

It did feel good to rinse away the dirt and sweat. He rubbed his skin clean with handfuls of sand and washed his face. Mitsuhide was about to rinse his hair when something caught his attention. A rustling in the brush, the almost-silent tread of stealthy footsteps. 

He pretended not to notice, but his eyes scanned the forest. It could be the daimyo’s men. Or bandits. He glanced toward his clothes, his sword and shoes were at the foot of the tree. Not far, but far enough to leave him open if his stalker struck. 

Mitsuhide rose up half out of the water. Pretending to stretch in the general direction of his things. There was a sound then, a sharp inhale or a gasp. A feminine gasp, almost . . . a squeak. His eyes tracked toward the sound.

And there she was. His little mouse. Hiding behind some brush. Her gaze met his but he pretended not to notice. Smiling, he continued his stretch. Letting the water lap at his waist. His hips. He could feel her eyes on him, the way she stared at his exposed skin. Mitsuhide was a man used to being admired, but he’d never enjoyed it as much as this. Knowing she thirsted for him as much as he, for her. It made him want to do rash things.

He made a dance of leaving the cold water and slowly dressing. It was, he decided, a fun way to tease. But it would have been more so if he could see all the expressions she made. He wished there were time to do it again in a place she couldn’t hide.

The chatelaine scurried back to camp when he was mostly dressed. He couldn’t miss the sound of her movements - clumsier now than when she approached.

At the fire, she waited for him. Her hands clasped innocently in her lap. Sitting on her bedroll as if she’d been there the whole time. “Did you have a good bath?”

“Oh yes. It was very nice.” He knelt behind her and pulled her up against him. “I wouldn’t have minded your company. It was lonely.” He kissed the tip of her ear and down the side of her neck.

“Ah. Yes. I. I had to. Stay. Here.”

“Of course,” he murmured into her shoulder. “Now come here and help me get warm.” 

The chatelaine opened her mouth to protest but he brushed a featherlight kiss across it before she could.

“You’re still my wife, remember? For a little while longer.”

Next: Journey’s End

[justthehiddleswrites]

Cutthroat Kitchen | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  You make an offhand remark about Tom’s Bolognese and now you are standing your kitchen ready to battle. Perhaps even to the death. Over pasta.

Warnings: Fluff

-

Tom was so engrossed with the pan he didn’t even notice the front door open or your keys clink in the ceramic dish in the foyer. He also didn’t hear you greet him as you reached the kitchen doorway.

“Tom!” you boomed as he lifted a spoon to sample his sauce.

He fumbled the spoon, sending sauce everywhere, mostly onto Tom’s glasses. The spoon clattered on the ground as Tom spun to face you, splattered face and all.

“Darling…” his voice terse as he removed his glasses to clean. “… a little warning would be nice.”

You covered your mouth to suppress the laughter bubbling up. “And miss the great Tom Hiddleston covered in…” you leaned in and kissed his cheek, getting some sauce on your lips. You licked your lips. “… Bolognese sauce. Not a chance. But for your information, I did announce myself, you just didn’t hear me, Gordon Ramsey.”

“You know I take my Bolognese seriously. I get into a zone. Now unless you have something else…” He gestured towards the pan.

You raised your hands in defeat. “I will leave you to work.” You gave him one more quick peck on the cheek, before snagging a piece of bread.

Tom swatted your butt with a towel as you hustled out of the kitchen. You busied yourself entertaining Bobby while Tom finished up dinner.

“It looks divine, darling.” you complimented as Tom placed a steaming plate of pasta in front of you.

“Thank you, dear. I love spoiling you.”

“Spoken like a good husband.” you smiled as you tucked in.

After too much wine and too much food, you cleaned up the mess in the kitchen.

“Must you always make such a mess when you cook?” you sighed as you scrubbed the third pan of the evening.

“We must never question the creative process.” Tom dried the plates, replacing them in the cupboard. “How was the Bolognese?”

“Passable.” you muttered, finishing up the last spoon, wiping your hands on a towel.

“Passable?!” Tom cried. “What happened to divine?”

“I said it looked divine.” you corrected him. “But I have made better.” You walked away, swaying your hips.

Tom used his long legs to his advantage to cut you off in the living room. You stopped in your tracks, smirking. Tom smiled back, knowing damn well what you were doing.

“Is that a challenge, darling?” His eyes twinkled.

“Perhaps?”

“How do you suggest we settle this?”

“I might have an idea or two.” You raise an eyebrow.

“By all means, let’s hear it.”

The two of you settled on the couch, Bobby under foot, to discuss the particulars.

-

Two Weeks Later

“Are the two of you really going to go through with this?” Benedict questioned as he faced the two of you.

You tighten the strings on your apron and glanced over at Tom, who cracked his knuckles.

“Positive, Ben.” Tom answered. “Now read what’s on the paper.”

Ben sighed. “How am I friends with two such ridiculously competitive people?”

“Sheer luck. Now read.”

“Fine. The two competitors shall have one hour to cook and plate their dishes. They are allowed to use anything in the fridge or pantry, including any previously prepared components. No stealing ingredients or components previously prepared by the competitor… Would either of you honestly steal from each other. You are married!”

“I wouldn’t.” You shot a knowing glare towards Tom. His eyes widened in mock shock.

“I have never—”

“Turks and Caicos, three years ago. Should I go into more details?” you countered.

“There’s a story I must find out about.” Sophie piped up.

“Et tu, Sophie?” Tom whined.

She only giggled in response.

“Can I continue with this ridiculous exercise?” Ben scoffed.

“Please.” Both of you responded.

“As I was saying… The finished dishes will be judged on taste and appearance via blind taste tasting by our two judges.” Ben gestured to himself and Sophie. “Any ties will result in a sudden death cook off.”

You made a “I’m watching you” motion towards Tom who pretended to slit his throat with his finger. Benedict rolled his eyes.

“Total drama queens, the lot of you. On your marks… get set… COOK!”

You threw your shoulder into Tom on the way to the fridge. He skidded off balance, and you opened it up first.

“No body checking!” Tom hollered, using his wingspan to reach over you.

“All’s fair in love and war, honey!”

You claimed a spot on the counter next to the stove and unwrapped your pasta dough.

Tom sneaked a glance on your side of the kitchen.

“Did you make your pasta dough?”

“I did.” You spied boxed pasta on his side. “Oh, you didn’t!” you feigned surprise. “Shame.”

Tom drew a breath in through his teeth, hissing. “Dirty pool.”

“Just taking every advantage. It isn’t my fault you have only three recipes in your repertoire.”

You ran the dough through the machine once, twice, and continued until a long thin strip of pasta dough formed. You tossed it on the floured counter. You filled a pot with water and turned it on while you heated another pan, placing a stick of butter in there.

Tom set about making some sort of red sauce.

“Making your stand by Bolognese? Predictable.”

“Keep your eyes…” Tom turned you to face your own food. “… to yourself, darling.” He kissed your cheek before returning to his sauce.

“Party pooper.”

“I want to win.”

“And I don’t?!”

“If you want to win, keep an eye on your butter.” Tom poked a spoon towards your pan.

“Shit!” You pulled it off the burner and were relieved to see the butter only browned and not burned. You turned the heat down and replaced the pan, adding some chopped garlic.

In a small bowl, you whipped up the cheese filling for your ravioli. You got the raviolis formed and dropped them into the water. You added some fresh sage leaves to the butter and turned the heat down. As you pulled the raviolis out of the water, you tossed them into the butter mixture. Tom cursed as he shook his hand.

“That pan is hot, honey.”

“Well aware, darling. My fingers can attest to that.”

“2 minutes!” Benedict yelled from the living room.

Both you and Tom picked up the speed, furiously plating up the dishes. You were just grating a bit of fresh nutmeg as Benedict yelled “Time!”

Tom moved to place the plate on the table behind the number 1.

“That’s not Bolognese?!” you exclaimed. “You only know how to make Bolognese!”

Tom smirked as you placed your own plate behind number 2. Both of you had previously typed out descriptions of your dishes. “I can be taught, darling. Bold of you to assume you were the only who prepared for this.”

“I’ll remember that you can be taught the next spring cleaning day and you are suddenly incapable of throwing away a single article of clothing.”

“Stay away from my running shorts.” Tom pointed a finger at you.

“Lover’s spat?” Benedict joked as him and Sophie walked in.

“She wants to throw away my favorite running shorts.” Tom explained.

“Good. They are ghastly. All those holes, you look like a bum.” Sophie piped up.

“Is that what happened to my favorite t-shirt?” Ben questioned, staring daggers at Sophie.

“When do we get to eat pasta?” Sophie changed the subject.

“We are not done with this.” Ben jabbed a finger towards his wife.

“First up, we have a Fra Diavolo with seafood.” Benedict recited from the piece of paper.

Sophie and him loaded up their forks with Tom’s pasta. They both chewed thoughtfully.

“Good spice.” Sophie commented in between bites. “But some of the seafood is not cooked all the way.”

You resisted the urge to smile. They moved on to your dish. “This is cheese ravioli with a browned butter sauce and frizzled sage.”

“Fancy.” Benedict commented.

“Show off.” Tom muttered.

“Shh!” you hushed him.

Sophie caught your eye and smiled. The ravioli sliced perfectly with their forks.

“The filling is smooth.” Benedict commented. “The browned butter tastes almost burned, however. And I am not much of a fan of sage.”

Tom stifled a chuckle, covering it with a cough. You noticed a knowing glance between Ben and Tom.

“Allow us to deliberate.” Sophie commented, and she pulled Benedict out of earshot.

With all your weight, you shoved Tom in the side. “Way to give it away!”

Tom punched you playfully in the arm. “You were not much better, my dear. And don’t think I didn’t see that look between you and Soph. Trying to influence the judges, you should be ashamed.”

“Hello pot, meet kettle! You and Ben were practically telegraphing your insidious plan to throw this competition in your favor.”

Tom clutched his chest. “You wound me to think I would stoop so low as to throw a contest.”

“I do think so. You hate to lose. Even in a cooking competition against your wife.”

Tom protested more, but Benedict cleared his throat.

“We have made a decision.”

Your stomach jumped into your throat.

And the winner is…” Sophie continued Ben’s thought, her hands hovered between both plates. “… number 2!”

You threw your hands in the air and jumped around.

“YES!! Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” you squealed.

Tom’s head dropped to his chest.

“Winner, winner, winner!” you chanted. “Loser!” you pointed towards Tom.

“Thanks a lot, Ben!” Tom groused. “I thought we had a deal!”

“You did cheat!”

“Tried to cheat. It didn’t work!”

“Sophie threatened me.” Ben deadpanned.

“Are you scared of your wife?” Tom questioned.

“Absolutely. I’m also scared of your wife. She punches.”

“Excellent point.” Tom turned to you, and smiled one of his killer smiles. “Now…” You glared down as his arm wrapped around your waist. “… about the terms of this contest?”

You smiled back up at him, running your hand across the stubble on his chin.

“Remember those running shorts?”

Tom’s eyes widened before his brows furrowed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try and catch me!” you screamed as you went full speed towards the bedroom. Tom followed, gaining on you with each step.

“We’ll just see ourselves out!” Benedict called out as Sophie collapsed into giggles on the sofa. “Drama queens the lot of them.”

[enigma-im]

What We Do With Shadows Pt.2

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Shadow monster x F!Human Warnings: kitchen sex, fluff, blood mention, minor violence, takes place immediatly after the first

Word Count: 3406

Pt.1

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

I wake up a few hours later, glancing at the window, it’s still dark out. I rub my face into the pillow below me, taking in a deep breath. I go to sit up but I'm pulled back down.

"Why are you up," Raguel grumbles against my back. At some point in the night, we have switched to spooning. His arms are wrapped tightly around my stomach and our legs are twined together.

"Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you," I look over my shoulder. He hums before rubbing his forehead to the back of my neck.

"Its alright," He takes in a deep breath," you smell like me."

"Do I? I should probably go shower then," I try to get up again. I didn’t get to do any of my post-sex rituals, probably need to clean the sheets later today. Before I can get far Raguel pulls me back down. Turning so I'm resting on his chest.

"Don’t you ever, stay like this for a while longer or I will bend you over again," he purrs near my ear. Licking the shell as he squeezes me a bit tighter.

I blush," So you really want to do that again?"

He stops abusing my ear," Of course I do. Every day if that’s an option."

"Everyday," I yelp," are you trying to kill me?" he chuckles against me. He flips us over so he is on top, looking down at me with a wide grin.

"I could never, I promised you everything and I don’t intend to lose you anytime soon," he leans down and pecks my nose," Shall I demonstrate my dedication? I can actually take my time this go around." He leans back down for a kiss but I press against his chest.

"I think food and a shower is needed first," I try to argue. He pouts," also I need to go to the bathroom."

He huffs," fine, I shall relent this time. I need to go deal with something anyway. Meet you downstairs for some very early breakfast?"

"Yea, what do you have to deal with," I ask. Instead of answering he leans down and kisses me. He parts but leans back for another, then another. I push him away after a moment, really needing to pee. "Ok Raguel, meet you downstairs," I smile up at him, petting up his chest.

He holds my hand against himself," So beautiful, how often would you say your ex made you smile?" I notice him calling Nick my ex. Which I guess is right.

"Not enough," I answer honestly," Now let's get up, you are distracting me."

He leans down and buries his face on my neck, purring," You are no saint either, laying here naked beneath me."

"I can change if you like," I tease back.

He growls against me," I'd keep you naked here all day if I could. Actually, that sounds like a plan. I'll get us some food and you stay here."

"Raguel," I chuckle," I really need to go to the bathroom." he relents, falling to my side.

"Fine," he huffs. I get out of bed and look over at him sprawled out. He turns his head and gives me a once over, "You should leave now because this view is giving me ideas."

I quickly scurry away, feeling giddy as anyone could be. I trot down the hall, the pep in my step unfamiliar to me. It's an old feeling to be so excited, like a long lost friend. I know when I was first with Nick the feeling with always there but as time went so did the enjoyment. Chalking that up to the plateauing of our relationship. Shortly after the joy of a new relationship just vanished into anxiety and fear. Raguel brought fear but mostly of the unknown. His words brought on confliction and doubt that bloomed into self-determination.

I like Raguel, that's simple. I don't really know where we are going after this. Though he has admitted and confirmed his attraction and devotion the worry still lingers of his true intentions. He cannot be all good, there are no such things as heroes in polished armor ready to save a helpless person. That is just childish of me to assume such a thing, just like it's childish to assume he will be true and kind forever.

I trail out the bathroom in thought though a bit of satisfaction still rests in my chest. I was never one for such raunchy displays but the way Raguel claimed me in front of Nick was all too satisfying to not feel the next day. Walking into my room I immediately notice Raguel's absents. A twang of stress slithers into my brain but I cannot bring myself to fuel the flame this time.

I grab some clothes and dress casually for the day. Making my way downstairs I ponder if Raguel actually requires food. I start on a simple breakfast that’s easily made and shared amongst two people. As I watch the eggs quickly fry in the pan a pair of arms snake around my waist, pulling me flush against a body.

"Smells good," Raguel sways us. A smile forces its way onto my lips, peeling back more as his lips drag along my cheek.

"I didn't know how you would want your eggs so I made them scrambled," I glance at him from the corner of my eye," I hope that is alright."

"whatever you make I will devour it like a starving man," he answers. He snags a piece from the pan before walking away. I watch him for a moment, finally admiring him in the light. His attractiveness is just as appealing now as it was last night. Though his strangeness attempts to trump that allure, it only seems to fuel it. The swaying tail catches my attention though, remembering that curled around my thigh last night.

"See something you like," Raguel purrs. I meet his eyes, having ripped my attention from the lazy swings of his thin tail.

"I-ah-sorry," I blush. Quickly, I twist away focusing back on the food. I shift the food around embarrassed, flustered at the lude images plaguing my thoughts.

Arms curl back around my waist," Now, no need for all that, love. I want your attention constantly, especially when it's with such an open invitation." his fingers slowly slide down my sides, cupping my hips as he pulls them back. "that was an invitation," he licks up my neck," Right?"

I shutter in his arms," It is now," I mumble under my breath. His cocky chuckle brings a chill to my skin.

"Good girl," he purrs. He reaches in front of me, taking the pan off the stove before fisting the hem of my shirt. He curls the fabric slowly upwards, his other hand resting on the newly exposed skin. His warm palm gropes at my stomach, trailing upward with my shirt till he can squeeze at my chest. He growls in my ear, his teeth dimpling the skin of shoulder as he nibbles. His hips nudge my ass, requesting as well as demanding.

"Raguel," I murmur. He tweaks my nipple, brushing the pads of his fingers along the pebbled peaks. Soon his other hand runs lazily down my torso to reach my crotch. He slides under the edge of my pants, cupping my crotch swiftly. Raguel delves a finger between my folds, growling excitedly as he feels my wet heat. With only a few strokes to my begging clit does he change objectives.

As one hand palms at my chest and the other grinding against my crotch Raguel shoves my pants down. As I look down I see the faint wisps of darkness fading away, a snicker coming from behind me.

"I seem to have no patience when it comes to you," he bends me forward," it seems some practice would be in need to conquer the likes of you, temptress." I catch myself on my hands, framing the stove in front of me. The heat of the previously lit top is a completely different feeling to the heat of Raguel's cock nudging at my folds. Within a blink he shoves forward, wasting no time being buried within me.

"Oh god," I clench at the counter, my head falling forward. Raguel's body cradles me against his with a sigh of relief. His fingers flex against my crotch, his chest resting warm against my back. He chuckles, sending hot breath down my shirt.

"God? I thought I was an angel," he laughs," but I guess I like the ring of God just a bit better." I want to scoff at his ego but his retreating cock steals my breath. He forces the air back in with a sharp buck of his hips. He stills once again, sighing against the back of my neck.

Raguel's hips draw back barely a few inches then slapping forward harshly. The slow languid pull-outs are the complete opposite to the demanding bucks forward. It feels almost like he regrets pulling back to begin with, rushing to fill the space he regretfully left. His pace is torturous but words evade me more than ever now. The hand over my crotch grinds oh so well into my clit with every buck. The harsh thrusts making me hump into his awaiting palm. His slow but harsh pace is taking too long, it's becoming harder to keep quiet.

"Raguel," I sinfully groan. The command for more rests on the tip of my tongue but the words refuse to leave.

"Yes, love," he purrs so erotically in my ear. His rumbling voice makes my head turn to mush, flatling my heart as I hear the excitement in his words.

"P-Please," I spill out," please."

"What do you need? Ask your god for anything," he bucks sharply," I'm here solely for your pleasure."

My legs nearly give out at his egotistical declaration. The cocky tone mixed with his devoted words nearly undoes me.

"Faster," I say firmly," please, Raguel."

" Good girl," he growls," your wish is my command."

He pulls out slow once more before thoroughly fucking me. His hip slap against me, clapping at my cheeks loudly. I jolt with every thrust, clenching the counters in a white grip. A drawn-out groan starts lowly in my throat, my insides being set aflame with his cock. I cannot think, only feel as he ravages me. The sensation is only similar to the first time he did this. No one has come close to the way he makes me sing.

"Eva," he murmurs against my shoulder," I need you to cum for me, fuck, please." my eyes rolls at his plead, the change in command thrilling me so. I adore what he does to me but I almost adore more what I do to him.

His fingers flex messily over my clit as he bucks and thrusts into my body. I can't hold on anymore, falling for the climax that bursts from within.

I hold the counter as my legs shake. I faintly feel a hand trail over my arm as I cry out in ecstasy. Fingers card through mine, holding them in a tight grip as I clench around Raguel's now throbbing cock. His choked grunts match with my drawn-out moans. I can feel him shoot his load inside me, adding to my already heart-stopping orgasm. We ride out our peaks, fueling the other with our erotic singing.

Before I can allow myself to think straight Raguel takes me to the floor. Slowly he settles use against the cabinets, our back resting against the cold wood. His arms stay snug around me as I sit lax in his lap. Occasionally I feel him press short peck to the back of my head, nuzzling his nose to my hair.

"We should get up and eat breakfast before it gets cold," I mumble, petting my fingertips over his arm. He hums in answer, pecking my temple with his lips.

"Just a moment longer," he grumbles.

"Don't fall asleep on me now," I tease. He huffs in amusement, swatting my thigh with his tail.

"Not my fault you’re a succubus whose sole purpose is to drain me everything I have," he jokes. I fluster easily at his accusation. I hardly assumed myself to be 'sexy' or 'alluring' enough to be titled as a succubus.

After a moment of cuddling on the floor, we get up. I pull my pants back on as Raguel heads for the cabinets. He grabs two plates and two cups, setting them on the counter. I help out, reaching for a plate to fill with the breakfast I made. Before I can reach it his tail wraps around my wrist and tugs me away.

"No, I got this. Go sit down," he scolds, pointing towards the table. I watch him confused, meals are my job. Nick never wanted to busy himself with such feminine tasks.

"but-," I try to convince him otherwise.

"No," he interrupts," you drain my balls, I serve you food. That’s the deal." I fluster immediately, squirming as I focus on the feel of him still inside me. I want to retort with something, anything, but words fail me. He grins, walking over to peck me on the lips. "Go sit," he whispers. I just nod, turning and walking to the dining table.

Raguel swiftly decorates the plates with an assortment of food then places them on the table. We feast in relative silence, passing flirty glances once in a while. Everything feels so carefree this morning, not a stroke of tension to be found. It's strange in its own right to be so happy when yesterday I was being so blank for what feels like my whole life. Nick took so much out of me that it felt normal to be so out of touch. Only having Raguel in my life for a day has changed so much.

I watch Raguel for a moment, seeing him finish off his sides of berries. He catches my eye as he pops a blueberry into his mouth, he gives me a toothy grin.

"Thank you," I smile back. He leans forward to rest his head on his propped up hand.

"Whatever for, love," he asks. I watch him for a moment more, capturing this scene as vividly as possible in my mind.

"Thanks for being here and… god, for everything really," I shrug. There aren't enough words to capture how I feel at this moment. To have nothing then to have everything is too fulfilling to put into mere sentences.

Raguel's playful grin twists into such admiration it feels like cupid shooting an arrow into my heart. He sits up from the table, rounding it to crouch next to me. He grabs the edge of my seat and jerks it to face him. Then he crawls between my legs, pushing my knees away so he fits perfectly.

Raguel reaches up and cradles my face," I have been in this house for years, haunting these grounds out of boredom more than demand. I have seen a lot in my time, seeing more than you could ever know. Those years have been nothing compared to the past 24 hours. To finally feel your lips against mine, to have your body expertly molded against mine, it's a dream come true. The cherry on top is putting that scum bag ex in his place. I've watched you for some time and last night is when I knew I loved you. Eva, I love you so damn much that it feels like I'm going to burst with it. Thank you, thank you so much Eva for accepting me into your life so easily. I will repay that in full for the rest of my life."

I can't even begin with how touching his words are. My heart aches in my chest with the swelling of emotions, quick to burst at any moment. I have to grab, I have to pull him close and kiss that cocky, arrogant face.

"to the rest of our lives," I smile into the kiss.

"To the rest of our lives," he grins back.

the day turns into a close as Raguel admires the gift resting in his arms. He knows that everything in his life should warn him against having something so special like her. Yet his wants can't be denied, what he wants he gets. That is the way of life, anything worth fighting for is also worth dying for. Not that the threat looms over him but the threat to her still exists in some capacity and that will never sit well for Raguel.

Raguel watches Eva for a moment longer than intended, just too captivated by the human to sneak away. The ideas of his task begin to take hold of his imagination to the point that he can finally turn away from her. With a sigh he forms into a mist, drifting out of the room with ease.

He drifts swiftly through the hall and down the stairs, seeping through the floorboards into the cellar. The dark dank room only has the sounds of dripping water as Raguel converges back into himself. With a flick of his hair, he casually walks into the barely lit room ahead. As he creaks open the door a sharp inhale is heard from beyond.

"Good evening, nick," Raguel grins, meeting the eyes of the exhausted man.

"Please," Nick weeps," I won't tell anyone, just let me go." Raguel crosses the room swiftly, admiring the wet, bleeding man strung up before him. The cruel lacerations decorating his chest brings a thrill to Raguel. The blood that has streamed down his torso is long dried after this morning. It's perhaps time to make some new ones.

"Now why would I let you go," Raguel tilts his head," we have only just gotten to know each other." wisps of smokes spread across the floor, lazily trailing towards Nick. The teasing path leaves enough time for Nick to notice, panting, and writhing against his confines.

"No, please," Nick begs. The tendrils of smoke crawl up his body towards his chest, coalescing against his cuts. They thread through the wounds, expanding once they enter. The reopened lashes pool with blood, drops running down his chest once more. Nick whimpers in pain as Raguel snickers in delight.

"I had a fantastic day with Eva," Raguel starts as he paces the room," she cooked breakfast, which is so nice of her, and we made love on your kitchen floor. I had her screaming my name, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn’t hear it. She even called me god, how fulfilling."

"stop," Nick pleads," you can have her, I won't bother you two again. I swear!"

Raguel tosses a blank look at the man, crossing his arms behind himself as he walks forward. He towers over the injured man with such superiority that Nick would cower if he could.

"Do you believe I need your permission? Do you assume you have some semblance of power here that you can freely give and take choices," Raguel quickly grabs at Nick's chin, forcing his focus on solely him," You do not plague this house with your filth any longer! You had your chance and now I have mine. Eva belongs to me, not because I demand it but because I earned it. Now, remember your place because you have surely earned it as well." Raguel shoves Nick away, his nails biting into the man's cheek before he departs.

As Nick sulks against the far wall Raguel walks over to a corner. He investigates the items in front of him, grabbing a suitable object. He carries it behind his back as he walks back towards nick.

"I'm feeling quite joyful this evening so tell me, Nick," Raguel twists the gardening fork to his front," what're your thoughts on landscaping?"

The cries of pain cannot be heard through the house, not a soul knows about the reckoning happening just below.

As Raguel finishes playing he cleans up and heads back into bed. As he settles under the sheets Eva twists to grab at him, curling into his side swiftly. With a smile, Raguel kisses the crown of her head, pulls her in close, and falls asleep. Both feeling content and safe as a deviant soul clings to life below.

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

Did y’all know Raguel is actually a bad dude? When I made him I wanted him to be cocky, arrogant, but a little sweet. With Eva is gentle and patient, if not a little insecure. He has never had to attract someone and he wants Eva to like him. he will protect and love her but to do that he will straight up kill a man. so he is mean and violent, even losing his tempers at times, but with Eva he is sweet and gentle. i like him for that. God, i would love to do a character ask with him, he has so much to him that i haven’t written.

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[welllpthisishappening]

First-Line Defensive Pairing

Of all the things they’d done in the last few months, spending the afternoon at the Museum of Ice Cream was one of the more ridiculous. Mostly because of the wooden spoons they gave out on the tour. Partially because it seemed Will Scarlet could not stop casting furtive glances at Belle French. Or the heels that always matched her dresses. Maybe because she kept answering his hypothetical questions. And maybe even because he was willing to drift far closer to genuine these days. At least when it came to his feelings for her.

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Word Count: 3.7K AN: Take two! Ok, so apparently yesterday when I posted this Tumblr thought it’d be a really cool idea to just...reformat the entire story. With whole graphs in totally wrong spots. Anyway, here it is again. Just as ridiculous as yesterday. With just as many Will and Belle emotions. Because that’s a thing I’m doing now, apparently. Writing Blue Line-era Will and Belle. If you’d like more of these flirt-prone idiots, here is their first date and Belle getting annoyed that Will fought someone on the ice. Technically, this was part of the kiss prompts and was “height difference kisses.” I hope the five of you who are interested in this enjoy it. That includes @shireness-says​ and @eleveneitherway​ who are mostly to blame for this.

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“I’m going to ask you a hypothetical question.”

Belle lifted her eyebrows. Let some of that light creep back in her gaze, a flash of amusement that regularly made Will’s stomach leap dangerously close to the base of his ribs. That’s why he did it. Maybe not the rib thing, partially because he wasn’t even sure that was the correct technical term. The rest of it, though. The eye thing. Sure. Definitely. One-hundred percent. Why he’d also made sure the little wooden spoon they’d been given at the start of this tour was still in the corner of his mouth; to guarantee absolute absurdity, and he figured that started when they decided to spend their afternoon at the Museum of Ice Cream, but he was willing to take it all a step further. 

In the absurdity factor, at least. 

Other things were—

Well, it wasn’t as if they explicitly decided to keep the relationship a secret. Not on purpose. Not really. Or come to any sort of legitimate agreement regarding the use of the word relationship. It never seemed...important, honestly. And that was a potentially problematic and lackadaisical approach to someone who made Will smile with an almost alarming consistency in the last few months, but she’d also sort of snuck up on him, and Ariel was going to be so annoying. 

About the whole goddamn thing. 

She’d never shut up about it, he knew. 

So he didn’t push. Belle didn’t, either. An unspoken agreement, that’s what it was. He had other things to do, anyway. Like get ready for a playoff run and ignore the lingering ache in his calves after the echo of Arthur’s whistle stopped ringing in his ears, and, ok, his apartment was starting to feel a little bit larger than it had in a long time, maybe since Killian had moved out, but that was fine. Cup runs did not come because someone was in a relationship. Will had seen that first hand. With Cap, of all people. 

Watched the way his whole life had fallen apart around his ankles, little shards of hope and possibility that, Will knew, still threatened the structural integrity of Kilian’s internal organs and all four ventricles of his heart, and he did not understand enough basic biology to be making those sorts of sweeping observations, but Robin had lost someone too and that had been horrible and tragic and—

If Will simply did not want to jinx things, then that was neither here nor there.

Relationship’y speaking. 

It was good. They were good. He hated the wooden spoon they gave them to taste test half a dozen ice cream flavors. 

He was legitimately worried about getting splinters in his tongue. 

No excuses could possibly reason away that problem pre-game. 

Belle’s eyebrows were still in the same spot. “You going to follow up on that, or…” “Would you burn a Gutenberg Bible? To stave off the apocalypse and or potential frostbite?” “Those two things go together, do they?” He shrugged. “In this instance, yeah, because—” “—Well, it wouldn’t matter,” Belle said, eyes flitting towards the overly enthusiastic tour guide and the seemingly never-ending history of ice cream, “because I wouldn’t allow myself to be in that position. And I don’t live anywhere near the Public Library. What would I be doing there when the freeze-wave came?” His stomach. Did that thing. Jumped and twisted, got a ten from the Russian judge on its floor routine. He was cautiously optimistic he’d be able to pull off a flawless beam performance too. It was an exceedingly convoluted metaphor. Wrong Olympics, too. 

“Does salt air give you mind-reading powers?” “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are,” Belle grinned. Moving her hand faster than he was entirely prepared for ensured that he nearly dropped his small plastic cup of churro churro ice cream. He made noise. Without trying. A hiss and a grunt in the back of his throat that then led to a sound escaping between Belle’s half-hearted scowl, and that sound was closer to a giggle than either of them would ever admit and just enough to mess with his mental faculties a little and the tour guide stopped talking. To stare straight at them. 

Color lifted on Belle’s cheeks, ice cream-covered spoon held awkwardly between them. 

“As you were, ma’am,” Will said, all false bravado, and that was something of a trend. In several different capacities. It was far too depressing a thought to have while eating cinnamon-flavored ice cream. 

Belle elbowed him. 

And the tour guide got back to her to spiel. Without a reprimand. 

“Say freeze-wave again without laughing.”

Her eyelashes were more of a problem, honestly. Than the eyebrows. Or the specific jut of her chin Will had rather quickly learned meant she was ready to challenge him on some ridiculous topic, fully prepared to argue a position she might not have otherwise agreed with. Only because it wasn’t what he was arguing, and it was easy to understand why she won that Model UN award. 

Plus, her eyelashes were just stupid long, and he thought she was really pretty. 

Like in a fundamental sort of way. 

“Freeze-wave,” Belle enunciated, pausing between syllables for maximum effect, “are you asking me Day After Tomorrow questions because of the ice cream, because I’m a librarian or because you’re the strangest man alive?” She finally ate the rest of the ice cream. It was starting to melt, that was why. This was very melt-prone ice cream. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled, “this is really good. Better than mine.” Something popped in his shoulder when he reached towards her plastic cup. He wouldn’t tell Ariel about that, either. 

“Which kind is—” Fighting off the objections of a small librarian who resolutely refused to wear anything except heels, no matter what the weather was like, was not usually as difficult as it was in that moment. Will assumed it had something to do with sugar. Or the force of his smile. Robbing the rest of him of energy and the ability to fend off either one of Belle’s fists. “Why are you like this?” “You didn’t want to try peanut and pretzel. With peanut butter swirl.” “Swallowed the flyer for this place while I wasn’t looking, huh?” Sticking her tongue out was distracting. Almost enough that he didn’t notice the absolutely atrocious attempt at impersonating his voice. “Oh, no, no, babe, I don’t want that; you can get peanut butter anywhere. That’s not special.” “Well, it’s not.” “I’m a big fancy hockey player, and I know everything there is to know about ice cream flavors and the potential life-changing palette moment that comes from the sublime combination of salty and sweet.” “Oh, now you’re just taunting me.” Her eyes narrowed, that time. His smile was going to permanently stretch out his cheeks. “You have a disgusting mind.” “You can’t get churro ice cream everywhere, babe.” “I’m going back to get honey later.” Will hummed. Stuck his lower lip out. Noticed that flash return. And hoarded it. Like a relationship—

Ah, fuck. 

“Would you burn the Gutenberg Bible?” Her laugh was quickly becoming his favorite sound. Which wasn’t bad, per se. Was just kind of passably concerning. God damn. It was the heels. All of them kept matching the dresses she wore. She kept wearing dresses. 

Of course, that was going to mess with Will’s head. 

Belle shook her head. “No.” “Historical significance?” “Well, once again, I would not be in that position, would have listened to science and fled to warmer climates, so as not to make myself prey for escaped...what were they? Tigers?” “I honestly can’t remember,” Will admitted. 

“This was your hypothetical!”

Heads snapped their direction. Frustration creased the tour guide’s forehead, and they’d paid extra to learn about the history of ice cream. Will had already known about the origins of the ice cream cone, though. So, the whole thing felt almost like a raw deal, and he was far more interested in preserving the color in Belle’s cheeks. He saluted. Who he was saluting was anyone’s guess, but it very likely was the otherwise unengaged teenage kid trudging behind his family who absolutely recognized Will. 

“That’s going to end up on sixteen different social media sites,” Belle warned, not quite able to get her voice to an appropriate whispering level. 

“So long as he got my good side, you won’t hear me complaining.” “Do you have a good side?”

“Sweetheart, the self-confidence. God.” She squeezed her eyes shut. While practically beaming at him, and Will had to bend his knees to reach, something else creaking in the process, but that was fine, and good, and pretty goddamn fantastic because her lips tasted a bit like chocolate. 

“‘S’not your best work,” Belle mumbled, almost entirely into his mouth. 

“Brain freeze.” “I would burn no books. That’s my final hypothetical answer.” Her eyelashes must have existed purely to torment him. Leaning back made it clear when they fluttered back open, and he swore there were flecks of gold in her eyes. Maybe he was melting, too. With the ice cream. That was almost poetic. “None at all? What if you were going to die?” “Maudlin.” “I don’t know what that means.” “Liar,” she challenged, another smile tugging at her mouth, and Will was clearly staring at her mouth. Stained slightly with chocolate, as it was. “I stand by it, though. The book stuff, not the commentary on your burgeoning intelligence.” “You want to find a corner to go and make out in?” Different laugh. The kind that came with her head thrown back, hair tickling Will’s forearm because at some point his arm had found its way around her, and touching Belle was becoming something almost close to second nature. “I could keep complimenting you if you want,” Belle said, “or I could give you my reason for not burning books.” “You’re a giant nerd, that’s why.” She clicked her tongue. “Very, very cute nerd, though.” “Betcha say that to all the girls.”

His stomach stilled. Dropped a few inches, for good measure. Below where it was supposed to be, and inching dangerously close to his feet, and what Will could not imagine was a very sanitary floor. The Museum of Ice Cream had a giant sprinkle pit. Nothing about that seemed very sanitary. 

“I think stories have a purpose,” Belle said, still not quite whispering but definitely getting there, and he knew. Knew she knew. What he was thinking and feeling and unspoken understanding was quickly becoming the name of this particular game. With them. 

Where it wasn’t a game at all. 

Damn. 

Ariel was going to be so annoying. 

“No matter what they are. Shitty as they can be, all those ups and downs, and ridiculous, often unnecessary melodrama. It’s going to matter to somebody. Someone, somewhere, will be living their life and read those words or see those letters, and they’ll think, wow, whoever wrote this, gets me, and it will change everything for them. They’ll go back to it. Find solace and safety in it. Themselves, maybe. They’ll believe everything will be ok. Even if they only think that while they’re reading.” “Don’t forget audiobooks,” Will muttered, voice strangled and tinged with emotion. In the ice cream museum. Figured, honestly. 

Belle pinched the side of his wrist. 

“Ow. Avoid the bruise further up, please.” “Did you get hit?” Nodding took more energy than it should have, too. She hadn’t been to a game. He hadn’t asked her. What an idiot. “Not bad though, that’s just—” “—Par for the course.” “Mixing idioms, mon trésor.” “Oh, I got that one, actually.” “Slow pitch softball, that’s why,” Will reasoned, some of the tension he wasn’t especially pleased by loosening. 

“I think we’re on a roll now.” He hummed. Nodded, again. Curled his fingers into the back of Belle’s dress. Blue, that afternoon. With matching heels. “It all matters,” she added, soft and earnest, and his eyes snapped. To her and with her and that second one didn’t make sense, not really, but he was and wanted to be and that absolutely terrified him. 

Of it all falling apart again. Of it not being enough. 

He wasn’t enough. 

A story no one was ever all that interested in finishing. 

“You think?” Belle nodded. “Why’d you start playing hockey?” “Quite a transition.” “Tit for tat, or—no, no, c’mon don’t look at me like that.” Red stained her cheeks, now. Making it difficult to concentrate on anything else, although the desire to kiss her again was a fairly strong second, and that kid was taking more pictures. “That’s not fair.” “You’ve brought this on yourself, babe,” Will argued, and he hoped Lucas didn’t yell. At him. He’d never really listened to the social media rules. “It’s a very long, occasionally depressing story about a kid and his single mom, the second of whom often worked her ass off and her fingers to the bone, and all those other delightfully visual clichés. But then! Who would guess, she got a job picking up extra shifts cleaning at the rink in town. Home to the world’s shittiest ice and loudest Zamboni, it instantly drew the attention of our kid-like hero. 

“He was...infatuated, let’s say. With the sounds, especially. Nothing sounds like that first scrape of skates on fresh ice. Full of possibility, you know?” Belle didn’t answer. Will kept talking. “Best noise in the world. And then he learned there were other noises. Pucks hitting the back of nets. Sticks clanging together. Grunts and groans and the game itself, how loud it was. Helped silence some of his thoughts, none of which were ever very good. Lots of worries, some about his very dead sister, then a few more about that mother and her predilection toward clichés.”

“Good word,” Belle murmured. He kissed the top of her hair. The kid was openly staring at them, now. 

“Anyway, the crux of the story is that the guy who owned the rink agreed to let the kid play on the rink. Knew the mother, understood her situation, and hockey is expensive. Like, well, we spout all that bullshit about hockey is for everyone, and I’ve got to stand up there and smile and nod and agree, and it’s fucked up because it’s not really true. Hockey’s for rich kids and families with regularly functioning alternators in their car.” 

He shook his head. Had to. To chase away the memories and the cobwebs, and Cap knew this, too. Understood it, even. Remembered a life before the Vanklads, and not every kid got the Vankalds, and sometimes Will let himself wonder what would have happened if he’d found the Vanklads. Or their upstate New York equivalent. 

Gotten better shin pads, probably. 

“Hockey’s an exclusive sorta club,” Will continued, “gotta know someone who’s related to someone else, and they know someone who played, and it’s six degrees of increasingly desperate separation. By some lucky twist of fate, though, Jimmy Newell knew some bastard who knew somebody else, who saw me play, and you don’t say no to USA Developmental. Spent two years in Minnesota, way before Cap did, so he doesn’t get to claim that state as his own.” Belle’s lips twitched. “Good to know, for argument’s sake.” His stomach was becoming a problem. 

Heart, too. 

Sputtering and slamming, uneven beats that were going to leave another bruise. Will licked his lips. 

“I went to Developmental, declared for the draft, got picked by New York, went to college, stayed in college, and the rest is history. As they say.” “They do say that, yeah.” “What’s the next question, then?” “How do you know there’s another question?” “Shot in the dark,” Will shrugged, but that was a lie, and it was getting increasingly easier to read that pinch between her eyebrows. “So, hit me.” “Literally?” “Please do not literally hit me. Locksley’s been feeling the forecheck the last couple’a practices.” “I know what that means!” Someone shushed them. Will couldn’t imagine the color will ever leave Belle’s cheeks. 

He kissed the bridge of her nose. 

“Who’d you get to teach you French?” “Who said I didn’t just learn French on my own?” “Babe,” she chided, and, well, that was the tipping point. As they say. To his heart and his stomach and—

“You wanna come to a game this series?” Belle blinked. Once, twice. Leaned back. Tilted her head. Likely waited for the camera crew that was inevitably lurking in the corner he was cautiously optimistic they’d make out in eventually. Didn’t happen, though. There was no camera crew. 

Just Will Scarlet, professional hockey player, and part-time sap. Standing in one of the more nonsensical museums they’d been to in the last two months. Although they did go to the transit museum on three separate occasions, and he could honestly say he didn’t expect that. 

So, maybe this was all just—

Par for the course. 

He’d have to make some sort of deal with Eric. To make sure Ariel didn’t proclaim her relationship-plotting victories from a variety of rooftops. Someone in front office had to know someone else with Empire State Building connections. 

Zelena probably did. 

Ariel would use that. 

“Where would I sit?”

He pulled her. Up. With an almost violent amount of force, threatening the safety of both of Belle’s shoulders in the process. But she’d asked the one question he hadn’t totally considered in his half-plotted plan, and getting his mouth back on hers was an acceptable diversion. Plus, she looped her arms around his neck pretty quickly. 

Which had to count for something, he figured. 

One hand cupped the back of his head, pulling him closer. Like he had any intention of being anywhere else, swiping his tongue against Belle’s lip and swallowing her sigh. They were still in public, technically. Her feet trailed the multi-color carpet beneath them, Will’s arms tightening and his palm flat against her back and her spine, and if she kept rocking up like that, he was going to do something drastic. 

Something in the same realm as melting, probably. 

Strands of hair tickled his skin, making him tilt his head and alter the angle, and that was entirely appropriate, but getting kicked out of the Museum of Ice Cream would probably make an absolutely fantastic story. Once they told people they were—

Doing whatever it was they were doing. 

They’d get there eventually. 

“Cap’s sister-in-law is coming,” Will said, not entirely able to catch his breath, “wants to see Kris and—” “—Should I know who that is?” “Works in equipment, and that’s not really the point.” “What is?” “That Little Vankald isn’t super interested in listening to Cap be full older brother on her and, far as I know, is fully capable of getting tickets wherever she wants. Can sweet talk the gold out of anyone’s pockets, and—” “—Wait, wait, are you equating hockey tickets to gold?” “When I’m playing, ma choupette.” “Is that cabbage?” He hummed. Nearly tripped over his own feet trying to hold onto Belle and the mostly melted cup of ice cream and paying for more churro ice cream made perfect sense. At the moment. “One of the kids at school was French Canadian,” Will explained, “used to swear all the time on the ice, and then he’d use stuff like that.” “You’re sharing endearments with a trash talker.” “More or less, yeah. Used to infuriate other guys.” “Who wants to be called a cabbage?” “I think you’re super cute.” Belle scowled. Didn’t argue, though. And Will refused to linger on the beat of his pulse. “I’d really like it if you were there,” he added, “Little Vanklad’ll be cool about it. She owes me. I fed her for a very long time.” “Did you just?” “I make incredible garlic bread; ask anyone.” “Wow,” Belle drawled, “just like people on the street, or…also, do you call her Little Vanklad all the time?” “To her face and behind her back with startling regularity. Not everyone gets my French endearments, babe. Consider yourself lucky.” 

She scrunched her nose. 

Stayed silent. All Will could hear was the soft explanations of the tour guide, and the questions from tourists who probably also thought going to the Museum of Sex made them edgy. After they bought a STRAND tote bag. God, maybe he was a dick. A judgmental dick, who still had too many thoughts and used an occasionally violent game to silence them by making sure he was the one dictating the noises and the trash talk and—

“Hey, uh, Will...Mr., uh—Mr. Scarlet? Do you think we could get a picture?”

Belle’s lips disappeared. Behind her teeth, and that didn’t do anything to temper the sound of what might have actually been joy. At the prospect of the staring teenager and his photo request. 

In the goddamn Museum of Ice Cream. 

Giving a jerky nod, Will quickly scanned the kid for any team-branded, but it didn’t look like he was wearing merch and that was a rather small miracle. Far as those things went. 

Still, he had been in the middle of a pretty intense internal dialogue and potential freakout, and there was going to be ice cream on his hand if he didn’t throw this cup away. 

Belle took the phone. 

The kid’s phone. 

“Smile,” she instructed, and Will tried. Really. He hoped he didn’t end up looking like a murderer on Twitter or Instagram or whatever kids used, and he had no idea when he got that old. When things started to freak him out, and he let the nerves claw back in, and the worry take root and—

“Hey,” he said before the kid could walk back to his parents and their matching STRAND tote bags. “You think you could take a picture of us, real quick?”

No one had ever moved faster. 

In, like, the history of photography. 

Circling an arm around Belle’s waist, Will’s smile came a bit easier and that was good because he was totally unprepared for what happened after that. Another instruction and flick of someone’s thumb, but then Belle was on her toes, even with the heels, and her lips were pressed against his cheek and it was like some sort of really exceptional sugar high. 

Without the threat of inevitable crash. 

Will didn’t think so, at least. He was also pretty positive it wasn’t tigers in The Day After Tomorrow. Wolves, maybe. 

“Tell Little Vankald to save me a seat.” “I mean, I don’t think you should call her that.”

Her teeth grazed his jaw. Both of them were laughing in the picture, the kid’s eyes going impossibly wide as Will thanked him. “How hard you think it is to set up an Instagram account?”

[silverbastardgoldenfool]

Realm of the Quarantine Reread End-of-Book Questionnaire: Assassin’s Quest

Any differences between your first/previous reading experience and this one?

Keep in mind I’m writing this months after finishing the book lol (it’s mental illness innit). I have LOTS of notes to go off but yeah, things aren’t as fresh in my mind overall. With that said the biggest difference I can think of between my first and second experience with AQ is my feelings towards Kettricken. I think the first time around reading you know that Fitz is an unreliable narrator but you are still limited by his viewpoint so you can get a bit trapped seeing things the way he does. For this reason, I think I pretty much just forgave Kettricken when he did on my first read, whereas on this read I was like……. Waiting for her to actually apologise and show some sympathy towards Fitz and it just…. Never happened.

Like, don’t get me wrong, I still love Kettricken as a character and I fully recognise that she has been traumatised. I don’t expect her to be nice or act rationally, and in the case of being willing to take Nettle for the crown… It’s cold but she’s doing what she feels she has to. My issue is - do what you have to, but don’t expect Fitz to understand or forgive you (same with Starling). But I think what bothered me the most was how Kettricken would constantly confide in Fitz and break down to him and he was always there to let her do so, yet she NEVER gives Fitz the chance to do the same. The one time he does “open up” in a sense is when she forces him to air out his traumas in front of everyone, and she didn’t show him any sympathy for what he’d been through then or later. She has been through hell, absolutely, but while her plight may not have been any better than Fitz’s it certainly wasn’t any worse. She pretty much had two modes in this book: completely cold or a crying wreck - but she was only ever crying for herself. She lets Fitz console her but she never consoles him. Again, this is a result of her own trauma and I don’t expect her to act any differently, but it just reaffirmed for me that while she and Fitz care for each other deeply it is not an equal relationship. Fitz feels an obligation to serve her and she - knowingly or not - takes advantage of that. Like, after realising that this is their dynamic it is so obvious that the same is true in Royal Assassin as well, and it will be interesting to see how it changes (or doesn’t) in Tawny Man as I don’t remember it well enough to say.

Must reiterate: Kettricken is still a great character and I still have a lot of respect for her, unfortunately she just falls into the overfull camp of people who love Fitz but have an unhealthy power dynamic with him.

The other big difference I noticed was that the Verity stuff just wasn’t as devastating this time. Not because it was any less sad but it just didn’t tear out my heart like it did the first time. That’s not a fault with the writing at all, I think it’s just the fact that, knowing what would happen to Verity and that we wouldn’t see the real Verity again, I kind of already let go of him at the end of Royal Assassin.

Something you can’t believe you forgot

I guess more of a misinterpretation/wishful thinking but like, realising that there is no passage explicitly stating that Fitz and the Fool were actually spooning in the mountains murdered me and spat on my corpse.

Oh also!!! Fitz yeeting himself out the window at Tradeford castle jskaskjf

Favourite character introduction moments/scenes

I love Kettle in general and the way we’re introduced to her as a cranky old lady sets her up perfectly

Favourite character arcs

Man they’re all so fucking sad lol but I guess the Fool? He goes from thinking Fitz is dead and his purpose failed to reuniting with Fitz, their relationship growing into something really real for the first time, and actually completing his mission - at least for now lol. This book is really the first time you get to see the Fool be properly vulnerable. Even when he was getting beaten up by Regal’s guards he always had his veneer of snark and superiority to hide behind - and I doubt when he went through his sicknesses at Buckkeep he would have revealed his weakness to anyone in order to be helped. But in the mountains he lets so much of that facade of the King’s Fool fall away - at least when it’s just him and Fitz. When he and Fitz meet again he lets Fitz see his grief and pain and hopelessness and joy as the Fool looks after Fitz, and then later when it’s the Fool who needs looking after he lets Fitz look after him. When was the last time the Fool had anyone really care for him like that, ya know? Had someone protect him purely out of love? Ouch dude!!!!

Also he gets to kiss Fitz at the end so good for him!!!!!!!!!! Be gay ride dragons!!

Favourite quote/s

“I would kill Regal. It only seemed fair. He had killed me first.”

“I had looked into the heart of my enemy. I still could not comprehend him.”

“The more I drank, the less tolerable my situation seemed. And the more intolerable I became to my friends.”

“I had never thought to be disdained by a tree.”

“The Fool, the Fool, only the Fool. I sought for him. I almost found him. Oh, he was passing strange, and surpassing strange. He darted and eluded me, like a bright gold carp in a weedy pool, like the motes that dance before one’s eyes after being dazzled by the sun. As well to clutch at the moon’s reflection in a still midnight pond as to seek a grip on that bright mind. I knew his beauty and his power in the briefest flashes of insight. In a moment I understood and marvelled at all that he was, and in the next I had forgotten that understanding.”

“When you can either laugh or cry, you might as well laugh.” - the Fool

Favourite relationships

Fitzandthefoolfitzandthefoolfitzandthefoolbahslbghabfhalgngjba 

Also fitz and nighteyes (speaking of which, Nighteyes’ arc in this book is also fascinating and surprisingly complex) and Fitz/Nighteyes/Fool mwah magnifico chef’s kiss

Favourite setting

Kelsingra baybeyyy. I remember the first time reading this having no fucking clue what was happening in that chapter but I guess it was the gay agenda all along

Favourite chapter

It’s gotta be the chapter where Fitz and the Fool reunite, right? Catch me just gradually losing my grip on reality with every lingering stare 

Most loved character

Foooooooooool

Most hated character

Ya know, for a minute I was actually wondering if I would like Starling this time round but yeah no lol. She was actually okay for a while but as soon as she sold Fitz/Nettle out she became The Worst, just as I remembered her. It’s not even because she betrays Fitz but because, like Kettricken, she expects Fitz to forgive her for it, to the point of running to tattle to the queen because Fitz isn’t giving her enough attention (I’m also not impressed with Kettricken for actually getting involved instead of just telling her to grow up). Not to mention her constantly misgendering/gendering (??) the Fool or just assuming the Fool’s gender and loudly fucking proclaiming it to everybody is just truly fucking disgusting. Like I cannot even explain how furious I was reading her incessantly using she/her pronouns for the Fool despite no confirmation that her theory is right or that the Fool is comfortable with this and despite EVERYONE ELSE using he/him pronouns. God I’m mad now lol. She just acts like a spoilt brat and it makes my blood boil. But that’s probably because I have known many people like this so… Good character writing lol congrats

Raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimised by Robin Hobb (most heartbreaking and/or visceral moments)

The whole first chapter/s are just so heavy and carry on that gut wrenching feeling from the end of Royal Assassin. Fitz just has no real desire to live and watching him systematically severing the last few ties he has to his human life is just so sad.

Even though I wasn’t as attached to Verity this time, his goodbye to Fitz still made me cry

As did Fitz giving Kettle her skill back

Verity using Fitz’s body to have sex with Kettricken really got to me this time, mostly because I either didn’t notice the first time or had forgotten just how much it affects Fitz. It’s no wonder he doesn’t want to acknowledge Dutiful as his son when the event that brought that fact into being was so fucked up and traumatic. It’s really upsetting.

Burrich saying he almost took Fitz to Chivalry and he should have never let the Farseers take Fitz just …… breaks my heart. Just seeing Burrich so raw like that in general is so unusual it really takes you aback.

Details, observations, spoilery notes made with the benefit of the full picture

Strap in lads this part is lonnnngggggggg

Is it bad to immediately want to cry just from seeing “Sandsedge” on the map and thinking of Sandsedge brandy

I never really thought about how poor Hap didn’t get the real Fitz all those years and how their relationship could have been if Fitz hadn’t been partially forged

Pls I have no idea why but to picture someone as emotionally repressed as Fitz actually sitting down and writing about his life makes me want to fucking cryyyyeeeee

Fitz in the prologue talks about needing a purpose as something to distract himself from sinking [into his chronic pain, mental illness and addiction] and boy howdy if that ain’t relatable. As someone with mental illness and chronic pain Fitz is just painfully relatable way too often.

“I have never forgiven myself the triumph I ceded him when I took poison and died.” Fitz :(((( my guy :((((((( forgive yourself for surviving however you could baby!!!!!

This book mentions Bingtown providing slaves to Chalced

It’s so funny to me when people expect Fitz to have social skills as if he didn’t literally live as a fucking wolf for weeks at a time. It’s a miracle he bloody speaks

The state Fitz is in at the beginning of this book was literally Burrich’s greatest fear for him, yet Burrich doesn’t just say I told you so and leave. He stays, is patient and even optimistic.

“He (Burrich) is not bigger than I.” Why does this feel so wrong lol??? I just can’t picture Fitz as bigger than Burrich

“When you were younger and not supposed to go into taverns without me…” So it’s fine if the child goes into taverns and gets drunk as long as you’re also there. Got it, Burrich.

Fitz calling Chade “the grey one” wow get rekd old man river

Seeing Chade and Burrich interact is so bizarre

Fitz is still having seizures at the beginning of this book! I had forgotten that

God okay so idk if I can articulate this point super well but the whole thing of Fitz going through this extensive abuse and then essentially becoming an animal feels like a metaphor for the way your brain’s “higher” needs and functions just shut off sometimes under certain levels of stress. Like in order to cope with the trauma you don’t think about concepts, or long-term goals, or other people. You just take care of your basic needs - food, sleep, shelter, water - long enough that you start to feel safe and secure again, at which point your brain can open up a bit more and allow you to really think again; to want again, to plan again etc. Like obviously literally becoming an animal is a heightened version of reality, but the functionality of it is the same; our wounds and our fear stop us from fully embodying ourselves.

Burrich be like, Fitz was getting way too dependent on drugs before all this so let’s steer clear of those. :) LET’S GET HIM ABSOLUTELY SHITFACED INSTEAD

I  love how Fitz has his own unique relationship with Lacey and she’s not just Patience’s servant in his mind

Fitz talking about how even his memories from before his time in the dungeons are soiled by his trauma :( baby boy

Dude it’s so rich Chade lecturing Fitz about not making a life for himself, having friends or just chilling out like???? WHO TRAINED HIM TO BE AN ASSASSIN CHADE?? Like I get your point but what the hell kind of life did you think he was gonna have? Who ever took the time to teach him the importance of making connections with people for their own sake, and when would he have ever had the time anyway? I think Chade himself doesn’t actually know what he expects from Fitz.

Fitz saying he’s bad at making decisions because he’s never actually been allowed to make any is literally a point I’ve made lol. This is what happens when you teach teenagers how to murder in lieu of any basic life skills.

Burrich + Chiv were luv at first sight. No I will not elaborate.

“We kept you a boy, looked after you too much.” Huh??????? Fitz was never fucking sheltered lol. He didn’t have autonomy. There’s a difference.

I’m so fucking glad Fitz hugged Burrich before he left and that they actually left off on okay-ish terms. I didn’t remember that and it vaguely dulls the blow of knowing we don’t see Burrich again til Fool’s Fate (and that he thinks Fitz is dead the entire time between now and then).

“If I shaved my hair back from my brow” bitch disgusting

“Honey was the older of the two women. Perhaps my age.” jskfjnajgbl my guy those aren’t women then those are children!!!!!! U freak

I was wondering for ages why Fitz doesn’t mention the Fool like literally at all bc that’s so unusual right? Even in Assassin’s Apprentice he thinks of him when he goes to Moonseye and just in general the Fool usually enters Fitz’s thoughts pretty frequently. So why now, when Fitz doesn’t even know if the Fool is okay, is he just not thinking about him? And then I realised that that is exactly why. Because the only two people from his old life he doesn’t think about are the two people whose fates he knows nothing of: Kettricken and the Fool. So he can let his mind wander to think what Patience and Lacey might be up to at Buckkeep, or who Molly is with or whatever, because he knows they are all safe. But in such a fragile state I don’t think he can bring himself to really wonder whether Kettricken and the Fool made it to their destination - he probably doesn’t really believe they could have, and that is far too painful a road to go down when you are trying not to think at all.

I know the first act of this book is slow and that bothers some people, but I think it is so necessary, not only for Fitz’s arc but also because it really demonstrates just how severe the situation has gotten with the red ships and forged ones AND it shows just how destructive a king Regal is. Without this perspective it would probably be much harder to buy that the extreme measures taken at the end of the book are really worth the sacrifice.

Fitz is Demisexual, Exhibit A: when Honey is coming onto him, all he can think about is Molly.

Fitz is so scared of the Forged ones :( his trauma affects everything. He has no faith in himself and less heart for the violence than ever.

Speaking of trauma metaphors: the way Fitz tends to drift off into the wit or Skill after a traumatic experience is… pretty much just dissociation but magique

I forgot that witted folk can apparently communicate with each other mentally, not just with animals

“Her head was the size of a bushel basket.” Ah, yes, a bushel basket, a thing whose size we are all intimately familiar with.

Fitz finally finds others like him and even then he is not fully accepted. Told he is doing the wit wrong. Othered by the Others. It’s the queer experience innit.

Also forgot that apparently the forged are attracted to the wit as well as the Skill?

“I wondered if I had as many wolf mannerisms as they had halk and bear.” Yeah no probably not you only bloody LIVED as a wolf, Fitz.

Okay I know it doesn’t need saying but Patience is just so fucking cool!!!!!

Jesus fucking christ, Fitz skilling out to Molly when he knows Will knows he’s alive and is looking for him is just… so dumb. So so dumb. I know he’s just fixating on her because he’s miserable and she’s like this unsullied thing he had before everything went wrong but holy moly is it frustrating 

Not to mention he doesn’t connect the dots between the fact that Burrich went to “help a friend” and every time he reaches out for Molly he sees Burrich sajkdbshkhja dude

Nighteyes leaving just goes to show that Fitz cannot rely solely on Nighteyes for companionship. No matter how innately the same they are they are equally as innately different. Fitz needs Nighteyes but he shouldn’t have JUST Nighteyes (which is why he, Nighteyes and the Fool are the holy trinity). When Nighteyes leaves, Fitz is in way too fragile a state to be left alone, but Nighteyes cannot think of the future or what might happen. All he knows is he’ll be back at some point and that’s all that matters.

“My anger fed my competence” whatever you need to tell yourself sweetie

I think I had blocked out the fact the Regal was keeping animals trapped in filthy cages so they could ravage people in the king’s circle uggggghhhhhhhhh I hate him

Fitz is down on himself saying that without Shrewd’s largesse, Chade’s information and Verity’s protection his idea of himself has been stripped away and that he’s not actually competent etc. but like. This is an extreme situation!! You’re literally alone in the wilderness with nothing and no one!! Who would thrive in this situation? And nobody gets by without help anyway! The people in our lives do define us to an extent. You don’t have to be able to stand 100% on your own at all times with zero resources to be considered capable. It’s human to depend on others. Yes I am chiding myself as much as Fitz here :))))

Burrich’s earring is the repressed gay earring. No I will not elaborate.

Fitz refusing to sell Burrich’s earring is frustrating yet something I would 100% do lol

Direct from my notes: Celery hiding out in caves?? Bad bitch

“I felt I was within the flames looking deeply into the Fool’s eyes” um okay gay

It’s actually surprising that Fitz admits he would not have gone after Molly even if he had known she was pregnant when she left. On one hand so self aware yet this doesn’t stop him from completely idealising their relationship.

And then you have Molly who says he was supposed to come after her “so she could forgive him”, that he was supposed to be the one to light the candles for her childbirth etc. The fact that she in any way thought he was mature enough to be a father just shows how little they really knew each other.

Burrich treating Molly like a horse while delivering Nettle is way funnier than it has a right to be jskakjasd makes me think of Dwight treating Phyllis’ back injury in The Office lol

The first thing Burrich notices about Nettle is that she has Chivalry’s brow are you fucking kidding me. Gay!

Fitz is Demisexual, Exhibit B: He had no interest in Tassin whatsoever until she literally started kissing him. At this point his body reacted, which is normal, but as soon as he got a second to actually think about it he stopped, because for him it would not be satisfying to sleep with someone he didn’t have feelings for.

“It seemed to take years for the dried beans and lentils to soften.” Okay mood

I love how Fitz just assumes Molly will take him back. “I have a woman and child awaiting me.” Says who bitch?

Small ferret? More like big legend

Ya know, we give Fitz so much shit but honestly with so much physical, mental and emotional stress on this journey how can we expect his mental faculties to be at 100%? I wouldn’t be making good decisions either, in fact I would be long dead.

Starling telling Nik that the earring once belonged to Chivalry is truly a smooth brain move

“Do not fear, little brother, I am here to take care of you again.” Words can’t explain how much I love Nighteyes and how often his dialogue makes me smile :’)

It’s so cute how Nighteyes is worried about Molly and Nettle until he knows that Burrich is taking care of them

It’s really interesting when Fitz claims “I’d rather be with Molly even if it meant rocking a crying baby in the middle of the night” because, well, he’s literally made other claims to the contrary, saying he wouldn’t have gone with her even if he’d known she was pregnant. Because at the end of the day as much as Fitz is compelled by others to do work for the greater good, I think deep down a lot of the time it is what he would do anyway. Like I really don’t think he could actually enjoy being with Molly knowing that the world is burning down around them. He would want to get out there and help somehow; not only to secure their own future but to reduce other people’s suffering as well. He’s an empathetic boy even though he’d like to be selfish.

Every time Fitz calls Molly his wife I lose ten years off my life

Again, I understand why he’s thinking like this, but Fitz’s ownership of Molly is just so uncomfortable. The fact that he can’t imagine her not having a place ready and waiting for him in her life when he returns just illustrates that she is not a fully realised person to him. She is just a comforting idea.

Oh yes, it was definitely Starling’s “pillowtalk” that got you captured and not the fact that you fit the exact description of the witted bastard right down to having Chivalry’s earring and a whole ass wolf

Somehow forgot that Jhaampe is basically a city of tents with only a few permanent buildings and people constantly coming and going

Fitz’s first words to the Fool are “I’ve come to you.” I’m gonna fucking die

Literally every single word from the moment Fitz realises it’s the Fool and starts describing him is a full body assault and personal attack I am seeking reparations

God the tenderness, the angst, the relief……… shall i pass away

“I doubted he was much taller, but his body was no longer a child’s.” My dude this is a gay awakening if I ever saw one

Fitz be like *spends 87 pages describing the Fool in painstaking detail* anyway I love being a heterosexual male

I’ve heard ppl cite Fitz’s descriptions of Kettricken as evidence of a crush (hard disagree) but literally nothingggggg even comes close to the way he describes the Fool. Not just this once but over and over again it’s insane.

“Talk fell off between us. The bottle of brandy was empty. We were reduced to silence, staring at one another drunkenly.” skjakfnajghajgnaLNGJ is it gay to silently gaze into thine homie’s eyes

The Fool protecting Fitz from everyone - especially Starling - in Jhaampe is often hilarious and always heartwarming

Realising Fitz was skinny enough for the Fool to lift on his own ahhh no wonder he said the famous “When I recall how beautiful you were” line, Fitz is a total wreck

I love that the Fool actually gives Chade shit for his plan to take Nettle. I love him.

“Too few folk cared for me. I could not hate a single one of them.” Oh, Fitz :(

I always wonder how the Fool really feels about Molly. Is he jealous? Does he compare himself to this woman Fitz idolises and he doesn’t know? Does he know that Fitz is barking up the wrong tree or is he stuck thinking Molly must really be Fitz’s soulmate since he won’t shut up about how much he loves her and can’t wait to get back to her? He just never really lets on how it makes him feel when Fitz has relationships with women. We know Fitz gets jealous of the Fool (for litch rally like no reason lol), so with the Fool being much more honest with himself/in general about his love for Fitz and having much more legitimate reason to be jealous, is he? Or is it just something he’s made his peace with, that these women give Fitz something that he cannot? Is he okay with that cos he has to be or does he have a different, less monogamous view of love and relationships (he does have three parents after all). I dunnoooo dude I just have so many questions. Like obviously - OBVIOUSLY - if Fitz and the Fool didn’t have romantic feelings for each other before, there is no doubting that romantic feelings appeared the moment Fitz appeared in the Fool’s hut. Fitz won’t admit that but mere chapters later the Fool is talking about how he loves Fitz in every way so like. He knows. So how does he feel when Fitz is calling out for Molly in his sleep, or openly speaking of seeking her out when all this is over, and lying to the Fool to protect Molly and his daughter. Really makes u think!!!!

Fitz reuniting with Sooty and going to see her every day in Jhaampe is so cuuuute and made me so happy. Sooty is a good girl :’)

Fitz be like *leans against the table where the Fool is carving and watches his fingers at work like a true repressed gay*

Verity is literally so strong???? He submerged himself in skill and was able to pull himself back from the stream can u imagine? Go off king!

Bro I literally can’t with the Fool mentioning Jofron so casually and Fitz immediately thinking wow oh my god they’re definitely fucking oh my god the Fool has a girlfriend - Fitz sweetie calm down

I love how Fitz and the Fool just naturally walk together :))) and Nighteyes babysitting Kettle is so cute

Molly never once says that she misses Fitz. She says she always expected him to do the right thing, to come after her and not leave her alone with a child. But she doesn’t look back on their time together fondly or have much positive to say about him as a person. And all that is fair, but it’s also just… Not really the behaviour of someone who’s been separated from their soulmate. It’s more just someone who’s been left in a shitty position by someone they cared about but hardly knew.

Fitz asking the Fool what is between him and Starling when they’re literally just being civil is sooooo fucking funny. Not everyone finds the Fool as irresistible as you do, Fitz.

The Fool just casually finding a pretext to call Fitz the light of his life

Fitz telling Kettricken firmly that he will not travel if the Fool is ill is one of the only times he ever puts his foot down with her GEE I WONDER WHY

I’ve said it before I’ll say it again…… there really do be something about the way Fitz can’t meet the Fool’s eyes………. It’s not like they’re weird and colourless anymore like they used to be!!!

The Fool already talking about Clerres in this book!

Fitz and the Fool and Nighteyes playing in the stream is too fucking pure omg, it’s what they deserve

And then Starling has to bloody ruin it bc she’s homophobique

But seriously, Fitz actually lets go for the first time in ages and has a nice evening only for Starling to go tattling to Kettricken, and Kettricken having the gall to confront Fitz about it. And then Fitz solves the problem by saying he doesn’t disdain her when like!! He has every right to!!!! She sold him out, sold his daughter out. She never even apologised but instead has just been totally petty and self-righteous and stirring up trouble amongst the group. She hasn’t earned or even asked for his forgiveness. So fitting that she’s the one constantly judging Fitz for his relationship with Lord Golden in Tawny Man lol, she just cannot let Fitz and the Fool be the queer icons they are!!!

Verrrrrrrrrrry interesting that Fitz only “suddenly missed the human warmth and comfort” of Starling taking his arm or sleeping against him literally IMMEDIATELY after the plumbing and love confrontation with the Fool. I mean he has been doing all of those things with the Fool (sleeping together, walking arm in arm etc.) so it’s not about human touch at all, it’s about convincing himself that a WOMAN’S touch is somehow inherently different.

He does the same thing with Starling as with Kettricken. She technically apologises but it’s not sincere and that’s not why he forgives her. Same as Kettricken, she tells her sob story and he can’t hold onto his anger. It makes sense, but it’s just very toxic. It would be nice if at least one person would really recognise how much they’ve hurt Fitz and really, genuinely want to atone for it, or apologise without expecting forgiveness. The onus should not be on Fitz to forgive Starling but on Starling to grow up and not need Fitz to like her in order to remain civil and do what they have to. Also “I do not find your wit bond offensive” has the same energy as someone telling you out of nowhere like “It’s fine that you’re gay :)” like wow thank u?? lol

Fitz is Demisexual, Exhibit C: “I wanted her with a desperation that had nothing to do with love, and even, I believe, little to do with lust.”

“By his love he is betrayed, and his love betrayed also.” So fate agrees with me, Fitz and the Fool are in love? :)

Anytime the potential that Fitz might have to choose between Molly and Nighteyes I lose brain cells. That’s ur brother Fitz!!! It’s not even a choice!! How dare u

It’s just sooooo intentionally laid out for us in this book that Fitz’s relationship with Molly really wasn’t good or healthy and that his fixation on it is misguided, and I think that’s why I struggled sooooo hard with the ending of Fool’s Fate, because it kind of implied the exact opposite. I’m hoping on this reread I will pick up on it being laid out as a result of Fitz getting his memories/teen feelings back rather than it just feeling like a lowkey retcon, but I guess we’ll see lol

“I felt I was a bit in love with him, you know. That sort of lift to the heart.” the confirmation that the Fool KNOWS HOW IT FEELS TO BE IN LOVE sends me deep into the swamps goodbyeeeeeeeeeeee

“The one who loves him best will betray him most foully.” So fate agrees, the Fool loves Fitz best :)

“You do love me! … Before, it was words. I always feared it was born out of pity.” Godddddd Foooooooooool!!!!!!!!!!! 

Everything about Fitz, the Fool and Nighteyes meeting in the skill for the first time is just truly perfect iconic unparalleled.

Fitz’s love for Verity hurts my heart so much. Just think of the relationship they could have had if they weren’t stupid royals.

Kettle’s whole speech about Fitz and Molly… Just yes to every word.

Look I’m just gonna say it… The way Burrich reacts to Molly’s advances … like I know it’s probably not intentional but it just reads as very much fitting in with my headcanon that he is gay. As soon as she makes it clear she wants to sleep with him he like leaps across the room lol. I do believe he cares for her and loves her in his way, but it does feel mostly like he’ll just do whatever he needs to to care for her and the baby.  Sowwy

I wonder why the Fool wasn’t as affected by his giving up of memories to Girl-on-a-Dragon?? Or was he, and he just gets them back before we see him again in Tawny Man?

“Take my hurt that I never knew my father, take my hours of staring up at his portrait when the great hall was empty and I could do so alone.” um this is so fucking sad

It was the Fool who sent Starling to find Fitz after Verity uses his body and again I have to ask, wtf is going on in your mind, Fool!

Fitz is Demisexual, Exhibit D: Even once he actually sleeps with Starling he has no enthusiasm about it, he just kind of goes along with it, likely to prove to himself that he has really let go of his past/Molly. 

I always wonder why the Fool leaves now. Is it because he thinks their work is done and doesn’t want to risk messing things up by hanging around his catalyst like at the end of Tawny Man? Does he intend to come back and find Fitz again but get sidetracked by a lead or a new dream? Like it’s just weird because at first he was like “Prophet and Catalyst stick together” and was gonna stay with Fitz - or was that just an excuse because he was obsessed with Girl-on-a-Dragon? Fool u spicy lil enigma

It’s blood and the wit that wakes the stone dragons so does that mean King Wisdom was witted? Or is that obvious lol

Fitz isn’t even bothered by the Fool’s kiss, just shocked. I am looking.

Patience shouting orders at Verity-as-Dragon is beautiful ksjjk

Of courrrrrssse Burrich names his first son Chivalry

In the epilogue, the Fool is the only one Fitz actually says he misses. Exquisite.

I know some people have an issue with Regal’s death but personally I find it delicious

Okay that’s all (I say as if this wasn’t 139841989 pages long). See y’all in 92 years when my sister finally starts reading Liveship!

[izzyfandoms]

Through Your Ears And Mine

SHIPS: Dukemile

CHARACTERS: Remus Sanders, Emile Picani

WARNING: Remus eats something gross

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @glassferns @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez @k1ngtok1

Masterpost

A Series Of Soulmate AUs Masterpost

Remus always knew when he was about to switch hearing with his soulmate.

His ears warmed and started to tingle, and he always had a few second warning until he lost his own hearing, and started to hear through his soulmate’s ears. It always lasted at least five seconds, and never more than half a minute, though mostly somewhere in the middle, and usually didn’t give him too much information, though he enjoyed it every time.

He often heard cartoons, and he’d managed to piece together that his soulmate was a therapist through the numerous snippets of patients talking. Once, he’d heard them call his soulmate ‘doc,’ which was as close to a name or nickname as Remus had ever gotten to hearing.

Whenever he heard music, it was almost always Disney or from cartoons, which painted quite the picture of what Remus’s soulmate was like.

He seemed cute and sweet and kind, based on his taste and his choice of career, and absolutely nothing like Remus, himself.

But everyone said that opposites attracted, and Remus already knew that his soulmate was exactly his type. That was how soulmates worked, after all.

Unfortunately, Remus’s voice stopped working whenever he heard through his soulmate’s ears, which made it pretty difficult to leave a message, and the unpredictability of when it happened made it equally hard to plan ahead. He was never much of a planner, though, and was content to just let life happen to him.

They couldn’t really use their soulbond to find each other, but Remus was still happy with what it was, and listening to his soulmate was always the best part of his day.

He’d find him when he found them, and though Remus was impatient, he wasn’t the kind of person to just go out and find him himself.

When he heard the warmth and tingling in his ears, he was listening to music – it was loud and crude, just his taste, but nothing his soulmate hadn’t heard through him before, so he kept it going when the world faded out, and his soulmate’s side faded in.

“-are the Crystal Gems, we’ll always save the day!”

Ah, Steven Universe. Remus’s cousin, Patton, had teamed up with Roman to make Remus watch the show with them, so he was familiar with the theme tune. It also wasn’t the first time he’d overheard his soulmate watching it.

“And if you think we can’t, we’ll always find a way!”

Remus drummed his fingers on his knee in time to the music.

“That’s why the people of this world believe in: Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl and Steven!”

Only a moment after the theme-tune was finished, it faded out and the song Remus was listening to faded back in. It was almost over, and Remus suddenly realised how loud it was, especially in comparison to the song he’d just overheard. Hopefully his soulmate didn’t have sensitive ears.

Remus huffed, flopping back against the couch, and keeping the song at the deafening volume.

That was boring. He’d been hoping for something a little more interesting – some snippet that would tell him more about his soulmate and their life – but apparently fate had had different ideas.

Remus got up, ripping the headphones from his head and dropping them and his phone onto the couch cushions. He went over to his kitchen and decided to make the most terrible snack he could possibly think of. After a moment of consideration, tapping his foot on the kitchen floor tiles and scanning his surroundings, he decided on ketchup and mint chocolate chip ice cream.

For a second, he wondered if he should microwave the ingredients, making it more of a soup, but he decided against it as he really didn’t want to wait that long.

He mixed the two ingredients in the first bowl he could find, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and then sitting on his kitchen counter, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged.

He ate slowly, savouring the sweet and sour mix of food that he knew would absolutely horrify everyone he’d ever met. Remus would have to text Roman about his snack lately, simply to nauseate and annoy his twin brother. It tasted good, in Remus’s opinion, but he was always one who liked peculiar flavours.

When Remus finished his snack, he dropped the bowl into the sink, alongside all of the other dishes that had been left there for days. He could clean up another time.

(He would not.)

The moment he took a step out of the kitchen, the warmth and tingling in his ears suddenly resumed.

Remus froze in place. It was uncommon for these things to happen back-to-back like this, but not completely underheard of. Once, a few years ago, it had happened twelve times in one day – twice an hour for six hours in a row – and afterwards Roman had told him that that had meant he’d been close to meeting his soulmate, but had missed the opportunity. After that, Remus had sulked for a week.

Hope began to bubble up inside of him, and Remus immediately grinned. He slumped against the wall, and prepared to listen to what he assumed was likely going to be more Steven Universe.

Instead, when his hearing faded out, and his soulmate’s faded in, he heard something else.

“Gosh, I really hope you can hear this! My friend told me to do this, said it worked for him. I recorded this on my phone, ‘cos you can’t normally hear my voice,” the voice was quick, and it took a moment for it to click in Remus’s head that this must have been his soulmate’s voice. He would’ve gasped if he could have. Instead his voice was stuck in his throat, like it always was when he heard through his soulmate’s ears. “So, um, my address is...”

There was only just enough time for the address to finish, before the sound faded out, and the silence of Remus’s apartment faded back in.

He was frozen in place, his eyes wide.

The voice was male, at least from Remus could tell, which made sense as Remus was gay, and therefore only really attracted to men. It was perfect, and already the most attractive voice Remus had ever heard in his life, and he never wanted to stop hearing it.

A minute passed, and then Remus jumped to work. He sped through his apartment, sifting through the mess of drawers – and making an even bigger mess – as he searched for a pen and a piece of paper. He went over the address again and again and again in his head as he moved, making sure not to forget it and memorizing it quickly.

When he finally found a scrap piece of paper – that had a doodle of a man being beheaded on the back – he immediately scribbled the address over the back.

He stared at it for a few seconds, clutching the paper so tightly that he almost ripped it in half.

Then, he made his mind up.

The plans he had already made for tonight, meeting up with his parents for their fortnightly dinner together, immediately slipped from his head. He had to go to this address.

He rushed over to the couch, picking up his phone and searching up the address, and his eyes lit up and his heart skipped a beat when he realised: his soulmate was close.  

A two-hour long drive. Possibly less, if Remus didn’t care about breaking laws and ignoring the speed limit, which he truly did not care about.

He could go to that address right now. He could meet his soulmate today.

Remus had to. He would.

He crumpled the paper up into a ball, shoving it into his pocket along with the pen. He then rushed through his apartment like a hurricane, making an even bigger mess of the place as he searched through drawers for his car keys. For once, he was annoyed with himself at his lack of order, as he usually didn’t have much of an idea of where everything was. Normally he didn’t mind, but right now he was in enough of a hurry that he hated it.

When he finally found his keys, he turned and left his apartment.

He forgot to shut the door behind him, but it would be a while until he remembered that.

He drove faster than the speed limit when he could, but apparently fate was on his side, as he wasn’t at any point pulled over. He was halfway through his drive when the hearing switched again, and, for once in his life, Remus was responsible, and he pulled over to listen.

It was the same voice – another recorded message – and Remus’s heart skipped a beat in his chest.

It started with an awkward laugh – endearing and adorable and it made fireworks go off in Remus’s heart – and then the voice spoke again.

“Maybe I should’ve started with my number,” his soulmate said. “And my name. I got a little ahead of myself there, sorry.” Another awkward laugh. “Um... my name is Emile Picani and my number is...”

Remus grabbed the pen that he’d stuffed into his pocket and scribbled the number across the back of his right hand as it was recited. The hearing faded out, and he was left staring at his hand when the sound of the cars zooming past him faded back in.

After a moment, he dug around in his pockets for his phone, and retrieved it quickly.

He wasted no time adding the contact to his phone, and then texting it immediately.

REMUS

would it be weird for me to come to ur address right now

If Remus were any other man, he would have realised how weird of an opening that was. However, he was not any other man, he was Remus, and that was the best he could come up with.

He didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

EMILE

Umm....

I guess that depends on who you are!

Remus could practically hear that sweet, awkward laugh in his head, and he couldn’t wait for the next time he’d get to hear it in his ears again. Hopefully, that next time would happen face-to-face.

REMUS

soulmate

ur voice is pretty

Remus drummed his fingers on his knee as he waited impatiently for the next text. It only took a couple minutes for the next text to come.

EMILE

Oh my gosh!!! Wow!!!!!

So it worked?

My brother told me it would but i was so nervous!

It worked for him and his soulmate but i wasn’t sure it would for us!!!!

All bonds are different right?

REMUS

it worked

can i come then?

EMILE

Gosh okay!!

I don’t have work today and it would be jut wonderful to finally meet you!!!

*just

As long as it doesn’t inconvenience you of course

REMUS

Im already close

And he was. A quick glance at his GPS made it known that he was already only an hour away. Just an away from his soulmate’s place, and from finally meeting his soulmate himself.

Remus was ecstatic.

He stuffed his phone into his pocket and restarted his drive.

Again, he drove over the speed limit, but, again, it seemed that fate was on his side, and he wasn’t caught and pulled over.

He got a few complaints from pedestrians when he sloppily parked just down the street from his soulmate’s apartment building, and one even kicked his tire. He ignored them all without hesitation, though, and only just remembered to lock his car behind him as he raced down the street: not quite running, but certainly hurrying.

He passed pedestrians that he paid no mind, darting through the crowd, and then stopped in his tracks when he passed a small stall selling flowers.

Remus paused, his mind moving a mile a minute, before he bought the first bouquet that caught his eye – it was rainbow: a bright, mixture of colours that Remus hoped his soulmate would like.

He wasn’t usually the nice, romantic type, but even Remus wanted to make a good first impression.

It didn’t take long for him to get inside the apartment building – one of the tenants opened the door just before him, and kept holding it open for Remus when they saw him following behind.

He climbed the stairs – he figured running up them was better than taking the elevator, and risking having to stop at every floor. It didn’t take long for him to find his soulmate’s apartment; he checked the address once on the way, and, though his hand-writing was messy and unreadable to most, he knew he was in the right place.

Remus stopped at the door, and knocked loudly.

But before just before it could open, the familiar warmth and tingling of his ears returned, and the moment the door swung open, he still heard it, but through the ears of the man now in front of him, instead of his own.

The man in front of him – his soulmate, his soulmate – was cute. Very, very cute. He had curly hair and wide eyes, and clothes that were pink and beige and neat and clean, as opposed to Remus’s, which were always ripped and messy.

They stared at each other, as they could not yet talk.

Emile’s eyes kept flicking between Remus’s face and the bouquet, and it was only when their hearing switched back that he remembered to hand the flowers to his soulmate.

He held them out, and Emile took them and held them to his chest.

“Thank you.”