#I am so sad I am locked out of my steam account and they are so broken I can't reset my password

[glompcat]

The Fallout TV show made me want to replay a Fallout game, and since it is what I have at my parents place I started to replay New Vegas on my PS3, and I forgot how game breakingly buggy this damn game is. I haven't even reached Boulder City yet and already I have three quests I will never be able to complete due to bugs - bugs I only discovered googling wtf is going on after sinking many many hours into gameplay trying to figure shit out so there is no way I am restarting basically everything to deal with the bugs. I am starting to remember why my completionist self (I was SO BAD about this back in the day) did not have fun playing this game way back when.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Wash Away the Pain #3 - Tech

The fall of Kamino, and the brief reunion with Crosshair, brings up feelings that Tech doesn’t think he can logic away.

Pairing: Tech x gn!reader (can be seen as platonic or romantic)

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: whump, guilt, hurt and comfort, discussion around choices and emotions, hopeful ending.

A/N: I was heavily inspired by these gorgeous drawings by @thattoothpick.

This is part of a mini-series I’m writing, where each of our boys will get their angsty shower time.

Each can be read as a standalone or as a continuation. Check out the others in the series: Echo, Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair.

Sign up to be tagged in my future fics.

The soft sound of muffled crying made you pause, stopping before the fresher door.

Kamino had fallen. Crosshair had decided to stay behind. You’d all left, retreating before the Empire could come sniffing.

The atmosphere in Cid’s bar was solemn, the boys nursing drinks and talking quietly as Omega napped in the back. Tech had excused himself, citing some repairs he needed to continue. You’d sat with the boys for a while before checking on Omega. A quick tip of your head into one of the back rooms had reassured you she was still asleep, but as you’d been walking back to the bar, the sounds from the fresher had stopped you.

Lifting your hand, you rap against the door. “Tech?” You call out gently.

Startling at the noise, Tech swipes a hand over his face, brushing away the tears. “I will be out momentarily.” He calls out.

“It’s okay, take your time.” You’re quick to reassure him, not wanting him to believe that he needs to bottle whatever he’s feeling back up. He wasn’t one to burden others with his problems, preferring to quietly work through them while projecting an air of ease to anyone nearby. For years, you’d tended to the boy’s physical wounds as their nat-born medic, but more recently, you’d noticed an uptick of emotional wounds between them all that needed just as much care. “You…want company?” You offer, eyes darting down the corridor towards the bar, catching his brothers still conversing around a table.

Tech contemplates your offer. He knows you’re a good listener and frequently there for his siblings, but he doesn’t wish to bother you with this. He often found peace in his own company and thoughts, but with the guilt and sadness currently churning in his gut, he wonders if it’s healthy to keep this to himself.

Making his choice, he reaches a hand out of the spray of the shower, turning the lock on the door.

The click of the lock is all the permission you need, and you step into the room, closing and locking the door behind you. Tech’s back is to you, rivulets of water rolling down the expanse of tanned skin. One hand clutches at his goggles, the other hanging limply by his side.

Not caring about his nudity – too many years at their side for you to be bothered by it – you step into the shower with him. Smoothing a hand down his arm, you gently squeeze his wrist. Soft brown eyes turn towards you, clouded with sadness. “Talk to me.” You encourage.

Tech’s eyes flit from yours, landing on the wall over your shoulder. “I am struggling with guilt.” He states. Naming his feelings had never been the problem – handling them had been. He knew he processed things differently than his siblings, that they embraced how they were feeling. But Tech…he intellectualised them.

 “And why’s that?” You ask gently, hand dipping down to grasp his goggles, unfurling his fingers around them. You lean out, placing them on the nearby counter so they won’t get damaged.

“Our escape from the cruiser on Bracca was a success. However, I did not account for the falling cone to divert the force of the engine towards Crosshair and ultimately leave him disfigured.” Tech’s admission hangs heavy in the steam-filled air. Seeing his brother – his twin – on Kamino had been painful. Seeing what his decision had done to him, the scarring that now covered the side of Crosshair’s head.

Objectively, he knew it was ridiculous. They were soldiers; scars were inevitable, and they all had them. Some were more visible than others. It was just that they usually came from the enemy, not each other.

You watch him closely, sensing the weight of his words. The shower water cascades down, a rhythmic backdrop to his internal turmoil. Leaning against the cool tiles, you consider your response carefully. “What happened to Crosshair wasn’t your fault. We were in a tight spot – it was that or be incinerated. You made the best decision with the information you had.” You say, your voice steady and reassuring. “You can’t blame yourself for things beyond your control.”

Tech’s gaze remains fixed on the wall, his brow furrowed in contemplation. “I should have calculated the potential consequences more thoroughly. My oversight directly resulted in Crosshair’s injuries.”

You reach out to tilt his face so you can meet his gaze. “Tech, you’re brilliant, but you’re not infallible. None of us could have predicted every variable in that situation. Crosshair chose to have the engines turned on, and with limited time we chose to use the explosives.”

His eyes meet yours searchingly. “I understand the concept of choices, but it does not alleviate the guilt.”

A soft sigh leaves your lips, hand leaving his chin to brush across the near-permanent red marks around his eyes from his goggles. It had taken a while for Tech to accept your touch so freely, and you were still silently pleased every time he didn’t shy away from it. “That’s not the only thing upsetting you, is it?” You push a little. Years by their side meant they were like open books to you.

Tech’s jaw clenches before he sighs, gaze dropping to rest on the hollow of your throat. “The same logic applies. I understand Crosshair chose to remain on Kamino. I accept his choice, but that does not mean I agree.”

You nod in understanding. “It’s okay to disagree with his choice, Tech. You care about him, and it’s natural to feel conflicted when someone you love decides against what you believe is best.”

Tech’s shoulders sag slightly, the weight of his conflicting emotions evident in the slump of his posture. “I cannot help but think that if I had been more persuasive, had found the right words or presented a better argument, maybe he would have come with us.”

Gently, you cup his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze again. “You can’t shoulder the responsibility for someone else’s decisions, especially when they’re driven by personal convictions. Crosshair is his own person and chose based on his own beliefs. You did everything you could, and sometimes, people must find their own path, even if it means diverging from ours.”

Tech’s gaze finally shifts from your throat to your eyes, and you see rare vulnerability. “I do not want to lose him.” He confesses, the weight of his emotions palpable in the tiny shower space.

“You won’t lose him.” You assure him, your voice steady. “He’s tough, and he knows our comm channels when he's ready. Sometimes, people need time and space to figure things out. We can’t control everything, Tech. We can only control how we respond and support each other.” You tell him. “And thank you, for opening up and telling me how you're feeling.”

Tech nods, your words sinking in, and his stoic demeanour begins to crack as he allows himself to absorb your reassurance, letting a single tear escape.

“I...I appreciate your understanding.” He admits, his voice softer than usual. The vulnerability he’s displaying is a testament to the depth of his connection with Crosshair and the internal struggle he’s facing.

You offer a warm smile, your thumb gently wiping away the tear from his cheek. “We’re a team, Tech. We face challenges together, and we support each other. You’re not alone in this.”

As the water cascades around you both, you stay with him in that small, steam-filled space, providing the comfort and understanding he needs. The air becomes thick with emotion, but it’s a necessary release for Tech, who has spent so much time rationalising and compartmentalising his feelings.

“I do not want to burden the others,” Tech confesses, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“You’re not a burden.” You reassure him. “We all have our moments of struggle, and it’s okay to lean on each other. That’s what makes us strong.”

Tech nods, the weight on his shoulders visibly lightening as he allows himself to accept the support you’re offering. After a moment, Tech takes a deep breath, his resolve returning. “Thank you.” He says, his tone carrying genuine gratitude.

“Anytime.” You reply, giving his cheek a final reassuring stroke before reaching for his goggles. As you hand them back to him, a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

Exiting the shower, you leave Tech to finish cleaning up, knowing he’s not entirely rid of his inner turmoil but might be better equipped to face it.

You dip into the back rooms to change into some dry clothes before you step back into the bar, finding the others still engaged in conversation. Omega is now awake, perched in Hunter’s lap, and the atmosphere, while still sombre, carries a thread of hope. As a team, you’ll navigate the uncertainties ahead, supporting each other through the darkest moments and cherishing the victories, no matter how small.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @littlemissmanga @starrylothcat @cw80831 @dreamie411 @issa-me-bry-blog

[whitherliliesbloom]

weaving the present, illuminating the future

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #30 - abstracted ]

[ illya & friends ] ★ [ 2,849 words ]  ★ [ streamers au ]

modern / streamers / online celebrities au where the spud squad are all popular streamers who frequently collab together. centers around illya and kaye mainly, but briefly mentions a bunch of other friends and illyanaud.

abstracted- withdrawn in mind, inattentive to one's surroundings

the spud squad announce their indefinite hiatus right after releasing their one year anniversary single, and illya cannot help but to feel just a tad bit melancholic.

Illya hasn’t bothered checking her notifications, or looked at either her computer screen or mobile phone, really. The sounds of ping after ping on linkcord, text after text and the flood of new tweets mentioning the one tag she followed on twitter easily made her overwhelmed - and so she’d opted to switch her devices off entirely before burying herself under the covers for the evening, trying desperately to distract herself with a copy of a manhwa that she’d borrowed from Laurelis. 

But it was futile, her head is empty and heavy, yet swirling with a myriad of many emotions all at the same time. And after feebly reading and re-reading the same page over and over only to realize she hadn’t been paying attention to the contents of the book at all, she closed the manhwa shut with a heavy sigh before closing her eyes, praying to the heavens that exhaustion would lull her quickly to sleep.

Outsiders would merely assumed she was simply nervous from the release of their newest single, Ultramarine Hymn, a collaboration between the members of their massively popular streamer group made in celebration for their one year anniversary. They’d prepared for months, working together with a widely renowned music composer and even performing live on stage with a set of professional make up artists, producers and videographers to film their first ever music video.

For everyone barring Mint, it’d been their first time ever singing and dancing for a large audience online. While the experience had been undoubtedly fun, it was still their first real exposure doing anything of such professionalism and scale- and so her flat mate Kaye wasn’t surprised at all to find her shaking like a leaf as she sat next to him on the couch just several minutes prior to the premier of the video.

While the premier of their first music video was indeed a good half of the reason why Illya felt so out of sorts and nervous for the rest of the night up until sunrise, the true reason for the melancholy she bore in her heart came from the announcement that was posted right after the release of the music video, and it’d kept her awake for a good portion of the late night until she mercifully fell asleep, clutching the lavender purple ribbon she’d worn in the music video tightly in her hands.

The spud squad was going to go on an indefinite hiatus shortly after the release of Ultramarine Hymn - a result of an eight months long business trip Kaye had been assigned on as a professional programmer. Streaming and being something of an internet celebrity was never the man’s main source of income, so it’d be unwise of him to turn down the golden opportunity to further his career in favor of staying behind to continue streaming. 

Naturally, Lily was going to move overseas with him as well - and while she has made it clear to her audience that she will continue streaming whenever she could afford the free time to, the radically different time zones between Eorzea and Doma meant it’d be difficult to participate in anymore spud squad activities - at least until she and Kaye would return.

Mint too, announced that she’d been preoccupied with practicing for auditions into several professional idol management companies... and while Illya herself isn’t as busy as the other three, juggling between helping with business at her mother’s florist, studying for an entrance exam into a medical school and streaming on top of that has become quite a hectic endeavor. 

Thus with much reluctance, the six of them came to a consensus and decided to announce their indefinite hiatus, a news that they’d hoped would sit well with their impressively large audience of fans if it came with the release of a music video to remember them by.

Illya knew that it was a necessary change of process - that new doors are being opened for each of them and it was only right for them to seize the opportunity to chase their dreams. Deep inside, Illya truly did feel overjoyed for her friends, loved them all with of her heart so much that the hiatus was but a small fraction of the cost to pay in exchange for their happiness.

But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a hint of melancholy and bitter sweetness within that earnest joy and cause for celebration. None of the six of them knew when they’d next be able to work on something like this again, or if they’d even find the time in the future to work together again at all. It was perhaps because of their shared understanding - that unspoken sadness between all of them that they’d agreed to prepare something special to celebrate one year of their collaboration - a song that spoke of hope and a brighter future. 

‘The more you give up, the more regrets await you.’

By the time the sun rose, accompanied by the shining of morning light through her pastel pink curtains and the melodic chirping of birds nesting upon the wisteria tree just outside her window, her phone has been assaulted with a mountain of unchecked notifications that she dreaded to sort through. 

The girl knew she couldn’t possibly keep her phone locked and switched off forever, and so she’d booted it up after washing up in the shared bathroom, before walking out of her bedroom, staring down at her screen with a light frown.

The smell of fried bacon wafts through the apartment. The sound of sizzling oil intermingles with Hazel’s cheery singing, and Illya takes the time to open the latch of her enclosure, allowing the little sparrow to flutter about the living room until it settled peacefully next to the potted sunflowers that sat upon the window sills of the kitchen, watching the raven haired man flipping eggs effortlessly with a flick of the frypan. 

“Good morning, Kaye. Thank you for making breakfast, again.” Greeting with an ever bright smile, Illya sits herself down at her designated seat at the dining table upon a bright floral cushion, watching as the man turns his head back for a moment before returning his attention to the stove. 

“It’s Sunday, so it’s my turn. You don’t gotta thank me.” He walks over to the dining table to dump the steaming hot sunny side ups and crispy bacon onto their plates, cups of orange juice already poured and waiting, which Illya takes into her hand to take a quick sip out of.

“You checked eorzeatube and twitter yet?” The young man asks as he sets the frypan down, gesturing towards the phone in her hands.

“N-no... Is it urgent?”

“Not really, no.” Kaye raises an eyebrow, sitting himself down and jabbing a fork into his bacon. “But aren’t you curious about how the music video did?”

“I-I am... A little, I suppose... but-” 

Her stammer gives her away her listlessness, and Kaye shoots the girl a furrowed scowl and a frown. 

“Is somethin’ botherin’ you?” The man asks, and Illya’s lips curl upwards into a wide, deceptively warm smile.

“Just nervous is all.. What if the fans didn’t like it?” it wasn’t a complete lie, though not the total truth, but Illya was always exceptionally talented at hiding her negative emotions, and Kaye seems to buy it enough to slump back against the back rest of his chair and toss the bacon into his awaiting mouth, chewing quietly and swallowing before speaking.

“You won’t know till you see for yourself.” 

It’s an unfortunate reality that he’s right, and Illya finally gives in and taps onto the icon for the twitter app, waiting for the timeline feed to load before her star spangled violet eyes widen in complete disbelief.

99+ notifications, an equally unbearable amount of private messages in her inbox as well as the first tweet literally being about the music video - Moth’ir’s retweet of their short promotional video from their official spud squad twitter account, which has garnered over 40 thousand likes and 10 thousand retweets.

#spudsquad and #ultramarinehymn are trending, and Illya gives in to her curiosity enough to tap on the tags and scroll through the tweets.

cosplaycon2022 hype!!! @/oracleoflight  • 18h  my good friend illya and her friends #spudsquad just released #ultramarine hymn and it’s so so so good!!! please give it a watch!! 

EEEEEEEEEE @/driftinintiawind  • 18h @/academician you didn’t tell me your gf was an idol bro???? GOOD SHIT #ultramarinehymn

 pink is JUSTICE @/rosepinkcutie  • 17h OHHHHH I’m goihng to cwyg #ultramarinehymn made me cryuy. iT’S SO GOOD...... #spudsquad i LOVE YOU

Alphinaud @/academician  • 17h Do give your support to #spudsquad ‘s new music video, #ultramarinehymn ! They’ve worked very hard on it!

soliriii @/windupsunshine  • 17h thank you #spudsquad for all the joy you’ve given me for the past year!! what a way to celebrate <3 #ultramarinehymn

hien’s booty @/floortank   • 16h  HEY #ultramarinehymn IS SO LIT THOUGH????? WTF

thancredwaters @/gunbrkrs  • 16h #spudsquad Good job my daughter hasn’t stopped playing this song on repeat for the past 2 hours. 

Nyx @/underthebloodmoon  • 15h Sharing a good friend’s music video here. #ultramarinehymn #spudsquad

Nidhstinien @/azuredragoon  • 15h [youtube link] #ultramarinehymn nice

vergotohelldad @/reveilleur  • 14h only 4 hours after release and #ultramarinehymn is already trending. twitter has some fucking good tastes in music thank the twelve.

Lamittens! @/lalamitt  • 14h Oh to be spud squad long time fan :pleading: I’m so fed... #ultramarinehymn #spudsquad

nhelly @/blackestmage  • 13h I turn around and #spudsquad decided to drop an absolute banger. loving #ultramarinehymn !!

Aymeric de Borel @/officialborel  • 13h A wonderful song that elicits a sense of optimism and hope. #ultramarinehymn

kafuuchi @/cloudsysmile  • 13h hey is it just me or is kaye getting hotter :blush: still a kayelily simp tho!! #ultramarinehymn

KoKomi Komi @/sangopriestess   • 12h @/starblossoms Congratulations on the new MV!! It’s very catchy! #ultramarinehymn

The scroll is endless, timeline filled with a mixture of both familiar and unfamiliar twitter handles, yet all collectively singing praises and awe for the music video and the song. It’s hard to not be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of positive reception their hard work and efforts have received, and Illya tears her eyes away from the screen to look up at Kaye with a twinkle in her wide violet eyes, and the man looks back at her expectedly. 

“I-It...It seems to be very well received.”

“’Seems to be’? The video’s got over five hundred thousand views on eorzeatube from the past 18 hours.”

Illya almost chokes on her eggs, eyes blown wide as she swallows her food abruptly and her voice raises into a high, bewildered squeak.

“F-f-five... hundred thousand???” 

By the twelve, that’s far more than even their highest recorded number of viewers on their biggest stream - and it’s been less than a day since the release of the music video. She cannot imagine just how ecstatic Mint must be at having such a successful idol-esque debut. 

“Does that ease your worries now?” Kaye asks, snapping the girl out of her train of thoughts once more, and he is met with a smile and an affirmative nod in response. 

“It does... thank you, Kaye.” 

Knowing that weeks of preparation, practice and hard work has paid off and finally bore fruit was the biggest relief Illya’s experienced in a while, and the simple knowledge that the sentiment of their song got through to a good number of the fans warmed her heart.

But in the midst of the joy, there was yet an underlying somberness lingering in the air between the pair that was not lost to either of them, as silence quickly fills the atmosphere and quickly turns the space around them cold. 

Scrolling through the top tweets didn’t exactly help either - because while it had quickly eased Illya’s worries of the music video being negatively received, in between praises for the song came the posts of fans who were dejected by the hiatus announcement.

Most of them had been supportive, of course... Their audience has ever been so welcoming, understanding and wonderful to them. But that perhaps made the disappointment they felt even worse on Illya’s melancholy, as she once again quickly slips back into the depths of her own internal mind. 

Because as well received as the music video they’d released is, it still ends with them going their separate ways, and it fills Illya with a sense of already festering loneliness that she refuses to admit verbally to.

She never did like goodbyes. 

‘The time that flows in the blink of an eye. The fear of continuing to be as we are.’

Neither Kaye nor Illya particularly enjoyed talking about their troubles, not even to each other, and so while Kaye could make an educated guess on why Illya seemed so despondent, he makes no comment on it. He was never the best at comforting others anyway.

He lets the silence fester between them even after Illya sets her phone down to focus on her plate full of breakfast, fishing his own device out of his pants pocket and begins to type away at it. 

It isn’t until after a whole ten minutes has passed that he’d finally look up from the screen, expression unreadable yet his voice sounding a modicum more relaxed than it had been a while ago as he calls out to Illya as she was drinking the last of her orange juice. 

“Hey, you’re free tonight, right?” The raven haired man asks, and Illya sets her glass down with a quirk of her eyebrow, if there was even a hint of sorrow in her, she didn’t allow him to hear it.

“Um... I am. Why?”

A smile from Kaye is a rarity, let alone one that carries such gentleness and ease... but the one he’s wearing now is so warm that it blows away the storm clouds that she hadn’t even noticed hanging over her head. 

“Then, are you cool to do an Among us stream tonight? With the other four, of course.”

Sparkling lavender eyes widen, and Illya is silent for a brief moment before stuttering out in response.

“A-aren’t you going over to Lily’s place to help her pack though?? And... the others.. aren’t they-”

“I’ll only be there for the afternoon. We’re only gonna be flying next week so there’s no rush. As for the others, I already asked. You can even invite Alphinaud if you want, the more the merrier.”

“But didn’t we just announce that we’re going on hiatus? I don’t want to trouble the others if they’re too busy either-”

Her pink lips slightly part, voice timid and soft. Hesitation and uncertainty briefly flashing through her twinkling eyes as she averts her gaze from the man and hides them under the shadows of her pure white bangs. But it does little to keep the light red burn of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose from Kaye, who only rolls his eyes at her in response.

“Gods, stop being so nice. I said I already asked and they’re down for it.... well, mostly. Ichi said he wanted to sleep but I’ll drag him outta his bed if I have to. We may be on hiatus, but it’s not like we’re gonna stop hanging out together, right?”

Though Kaye’s tone is rough and his words are painfully honest, his tongue as sharp as the gaze of his midnight blue eyes, Illya knew there was kindness laced beneath his huff, and the tension in her body slowly begins to fade, making way for a brighter, far more honest and radiant smile that washed away the chill of the air like a spring breeze.

He’s right, as he often is. 

Even if they may go their separate ways in the future, they will still always remain connected as friends, holding the memories they made together close in their hearts. 

Her phone’s buzzing with notifications again, and she takes a peek down at the lit up screen, her heart warming at the equally excited messages from her beloved friends. From Mint who is spamming :mikurave: emotes, to Lily who was telling Ichi that no, a schedule with his bed isn’t a valid excuse and Nanami who was offering to set up the stream for the night... Things are all as it should be, right here and now where they are together - where they are home. 

“If everyone’s fine with it then... I’ll join too. Don’t raid Ichi’s flat, though!” 

Illya lets out a giggle that rings out like windchimes in a cool summer breeze, and Kaye clicks his tongue with a shrug of his shoulder.

“He gave me his keys for this exact reason, he doesn’t mind. How do you think he always makes it in time for our streams? All I need to wake him up is a fork and porcelain plate and-”

“Kaye! That’s... that’s so mean-”

‘I'll hug you with equal parts expectation and anxiety. You and I, weaving the present, illuminating the future.’

[boneandfur]

Time After Time 2/2

TWO

Note: the characters demanded smut. There is a link to the NSFW version on ao3 at that point. tumblr won’t let me load the moodboard. I’m very frustrated with this hellsite.

Women aren't doctors at the Front, Miss... what did you say your name was again? Ah, Miss Valentine. American. That explains it... But we do need good quality nurses... You'll be sent to France right away on account of your prior training... Jolly good, just sign the dotted line... 

"I assume you'll have the watered wine, Rookie." Ramsay leans across the table, lightly tugging the menu from Helena's numb fingers. Every little boom makes her shiver, though she's adopted the English habit of keeping a stiff upper lip. Her grandmother has told her stories to curdle your guts, about standing on a hill at Gettysburg and watching her lover ride hell for leather into battle. And I followed him, didn't I, chick? 

"What brought you here? To the Front?" Helena cocks her head at him, and Ramsay's brows raise nearly to his hairline. 

"You're bold as brass.” Ramsay snaps his fingers. “I like that. Knew it as soon as you stepped out of that line of nurses that you wouldn't turn into a shrinking violet at your first amputation." Ramsay turns to their waiter, a Frenchman of elderly years with an ear trumpet. "We'll take your best watered wine for the lady, and a bottle of whiskey." 

Helena coughs lightly, and addresses the waiter in seamless French. "(What is the special today?)" 

The old man looks sad. "(I am afraid we do not have anything special. Just some eel ragout, and fresh bread my wife baked this morning.)" 

"(Then we will take that, and your best bottle of Merlot.)" 

When the owner has gone, Ramsay smiles broadly at Helena, showing white teeth against three days shadow of a beard on his jaw. "By God, you're a marvel. Never learned much French myself, besides what I've had to behind the lines." 

"Oh, my governess despaired of me." Helena shrugs, but cannot help smiling in return. "I can speak enough French to get by, you know, but I could never pass for a natural." 

"Well, you are an American." But it does not sound like an insult.

The eel comes, and she eats ravenously, less like a lady and more like the girl who downed seven glasses of champagne and then raced her brother from Boston to Concord on horseback. 

And Ramsay drinks. Thoughtfully. Mindfully. She does not remember, afterward, nor for many years, what they said, only how she had smiled and smiled until her cheeks hurt, and the ticking of the pocket watch. 

One two, one two. Tick tock. Eleven hours. Ten hours. Nine hours. Eleven minutes and eleven seconds.

No more standing to in trenches,//Only one more church parade. 

"I had a patron who paid for me to go to medical school, a well respected chap named Naveen.” Ramsay nurses his whiskey, rolling the glass with purpose between his palms. “After school, I joined the army to make something of myself, and went to India. My wife deserted me for another man while I was gone. She didn't like the army life, you see." 

Helena reaches out, laying her hand over his. Ramsay startles, but does not move his hand away, and instead flips it over, laying his palm flat against hers and caressing her wrist with his rough fingers. She drags in a breath, the sudden widening of his pupils making her lower abdomen flutter. "I ran away from home. No one knows I'm here, or I'd be dragged back to Boston to marry a Stirling and pop out an heir and a spare before the war has even gotten started." 

"You don't even want to know about what this war will look like if it keeps going, lass." Ramsay drains his glass, and pours them both another. "I'd tell you to go back to Boston, but I can see by that look in your eye that you'll see this thing through. I respect that." 

Helena does not trust herself to speak. The wine is making her thoughts slow, but she does not want this moment to end. 

Ramsay rubs a hand over his jaw. "That was back in '09. I hung my boots up, moved to Scotland, and threw myself into practice in Edinburgh. Then that damn fool shot a Prince, and well, here we are." 

Steady, silent. Their eyes meet and the watch ticks on. Helena feels as though she is drowning. His mouth moves and she only feels the heat of his palm against hers, her cheeks ablaze. 

'Nurse! Nurse Valentine! Are you dumb or are you just deaf?! Hand me those scissors, and bring me another scalpel... These damned orderlies don't know what they're doing...'

Their eyes meet across the bloody operating table. The soldier is mercilessly unconscious, a bloody piece of shrapnel in his thigh. He'd been screaming since he came in off the ambulance, a boy of no more than nineteen, a Tommy named Elijah... 'Mum, Mum, water, water...'

'That's a Blighty, Rookie. Your first. Are you going to faint on me, lass?' Ramsay's eyes lock on Helena's. She feels the flint of his gaze go straight to her spine, and straightens up. 

'No, Doctor. I'll be fine, sir.'

'I told you Americans have brass, Ramsay!' The surgeon, Lahela, winks at Helena in passing, but she does not notice. Her gaze does not falter under Ramsay's. 'Pass me the tweezers.'

His mouth quirks, just a shade. 'Good girl.'

"...Good God, Rookie, will you drink the whole bottle? I promise my company isn't as bad as all that." Helena feels Ramsay tug at her wine glass, and relinquishes it. The lamp has begun to burn low, and from the outside of the cafe is the sound of drunken laughter. "You shouldn't walk out there alone. Come on, I'll walk you back to your billet." 

"I don't have one," Helena confesses. She pats her bag, shamefaced. "I spent my money for the hotel on books... I can sleep on the truck." 

Ramsay shakes his head. "No, no, that won't do. We can't have you more dead on your feet than usual. I have a solution. It's a bit unorthodox. Do you trust me?" 

Eight hours, three minutes, seven seconds. 

•••

Helena does not know why, but the lights from the star shells, all green and gold, make her grip Ramsay's arm tighter, and press against his side. At the corner, he stops and gazes down at her, a strange and wild new thing in his face, something she dares not name. 

Don't forget me, Helena Valentine. When this lousy war is over, I'll come back, you see... 

"Tell me..." Ramsay brushes a curl back from her brow, his broad fingertips sending a crackle across her bare flesh. "Why did you become a doctor, Rookie -- Helena?" 

"I read a wonderful book." Helena ducks her head, and looks up at Ramsay from under her lashes, illuminated by the lamplight. Behind them, to the east, she hears the screech of a Minnie, and his hands tighten on her fingers. "It was written by a Scottish doctor who had served in India, on the Northwest Frontier." Her gaze skitters away. 

People said when we enlisted,//Fame and medals we would win.

"Ah. I knew a chap who served there, in his younger days." Ramsay tucks her cold hand through his elbow. The snow is falling thicker now, and they are nearly to the hotel. A quick word from Ramsay to the proprietor -- she hears the words une chambre pour les jeunes mariés -- He knows French after all -- 

And before she knows it, she is sitting in a delectably steaming hot hip bath, strewn with lavender and rosemary. She washes her hair and cannot remember the last time she felt such luxury. 

Nine months, two days, thirteen minutes...

When this war is over, //No more soldiering for me. 

"You can have the bed. I'll bunk down with Medical Officers Gayle and Nguyen, from the -nth Platoon." Ramsay stands in the doorway, his cap in his hands, avoiding looking directly at Helena in her muslin shift. "We wouldn't want you to lose your reputation and have to leave the war so soon." 

"Stay." She feels her eyelids drooping, and pats the quilt next to her. "Please, stay." 

"You know I can't do that." Yet, she hears the floorboards squeak as Ramsay settles next to her on a chair. The inn rattles like a whizzbang and she grasps Ramsay's hand, clutching at it until the clattering of the teacups subsides. "Only a little longer, then, Rookie. Until you're safe." 

•••

Ethan watches Helena Valentine fall asleep. There is nothing he'd like more than to climb next to her in that big bed, to feel her lithe body against his. But it would be wrong, even though nothing will ever be right again after the war is over. But if he can keep her safe -- If I can keep her alive -- he dares not finish the thought. 

“You wouldn't remember me, Helena Valentine, but I was the guest speaker of honor when they hung the plaque for your grandfather at the Royal Hospital, in Edinburgh.” Ethan whispers the words, barely a murmur. The whiskey has given him courage, here in a small hotel near the Ypres front. 

Ypres, the Race to the Sea. Generals called it a triumph, but the only thing the war has given Ethan thus far has been insomnia for thirty-six hours, a hatred of mustard gas and a pair of fine German boots from over the top. 

“He was an old surgeon, a medical man, who fought in the American Civil War, but he did great things for Scottish medicine, too, back in his youth.” Helena's fingertips tighten on his palm, and Ethan fears he has said too much. But he goes on, like a schoolboy at the confessional, for who can say when they shall ever have this moment again? And hasn't the war taught him by now to leave nothing unsaid? 

“You must have been not more than twenty-one, then. You were still unmarried, with a vast inheritance that folks said you'd squandered on medical school. I knew right then and there that Jonas Valentine would have been proud of you. I wanted to introduce myself right there and then…” 

But I was too tongue tied by your beauty, and couldn't find the words. Later, when I saw you again in Ypres, I couldn't believe my own eyes. I didn't want to tell you how I felt then...

(But that will keep, until this war is over.)

Her grip loosens, and he knows she is sleeping. She sighs in her slumber when his lips brush across her dainty brow, and it is with everything inside of him screaming at him to turn around that he walks away. 

When I get my civvy clothes on,/Oh how happy I shall be.

•••

Forty-five minutes, thirty seconds. 

The books are too heavy. Yet, Helena, an oasis of blue with a red cross on one arm in a sea of green uniforms, settles in with Sherlock Holmes. Rookie... She snaps the book shut, watching the landscape go by from the army van. 

I shouldn't... We shouldn't. Ramsay cups both sides of Helena's face in his hands. The book drops to the floor. They are both damp from the bath, and his skin smells of cedar and lavender soap. 

copy and paste into your tab:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/29957496/chapters/73743633

Later, she will remember the exact way the quilt felt as he pulled it over her shoulders, tucking her in, embers in the grate and his lips ghosting across her forehead. 

•••

Twenty years on, when a new war is brewing, this is what Helena Valentine remembers: 

The air, so still and warm, with not a single lark singing. The earth smells of flowers and death, and she is sharing sterilizing duty with VAD Nurse Varma, whom she'd come over from London with. 

"I suppose you think you're better than me, being a real doctor and all, but..." Jackie's lips move, but Helena cannot hear what she is saying. All she can hear is a buzzing sound, a ringing in her head. 

One two, one two. 

Her hands tremble with fatigue over the medical instruments. 

Thirteen minutes and forty-seven seconds. 

Tick, tock. 

The table begins to shake and she looks at Jackie, their eyes wide as they clasp hands -- and then they are running -- and the bridge is shaking, it's shaking Dr Ramsay, you shouldn't be out here, it's wartime you know -- 

No one can know about this, about us. You know that, right? 

I know, Dr Ramsay.

He cups her chin in his hand. They say you're a grasping American chit, but you're my American chit now, and I won't hear anything against you. Oh -- and don't check your bag until you're on the truck back to the lines. I left something there for you. 

Then you have this -- keep it until the war is over -- it was my grandfather's and it's over a hundred years old and it's still ticking on. 

His mouth is warm on hers, tip of his tongue pressed against hers for a surprisingly electric surge.  

-- "Nurse Valentine! Valentine!" --

Helena wakes in the morning with the ashes cold in the grate, Ramsay's greatcoat draped over her. It smells of peat and whiskey, and the faintest whiff of mustard gas. Her thighs are wet and she looks under the quilts and realizes her cycle has started, and she does not know why, but she begins to sob, whether from relief or terror she knows not. 

One two, one two.

(Twelve hours, seventeen minutes, and thirty four seconds.)

Tick, tock. 

People said when we enlisted,/Fame and medals we would win,/But the fame is in the guardroom,/And those medals made of tin.

[xplrerdolan]

Heheh idk if my request sent 🥺👉👈 possibly a Colby angsty fic where y/n is having a really bad day and comes home to Colby crying and he comforts her? Only if you want tho, ily Bb 🥺❤️

u sent this so long ago but here i am, trying my best to finish ONE THING while i’m working on like FIVE THINGS. anyways i love u 🥺

—

Every hour of the day seemed to weigh heavier on your shoulders by the time you were getting out of work. You’d been late that morning because your alarm clock had somehow managed to get unplugged, resulting in your boss’s impatient voice being the first thing you heard when you woke up. After getting ready in a panic, there was, of course, traffic on the way there, making your anxiety spike while there was nothing you could do about it.

When you’d walked into your job, you had sighed, thinking the worst of the day was over and now all you had to do was get through the day until you could go home. But, no. That’s not how things went.

Your boss chewed your ear off some more about being irresponsible and how there was no excuse for being as late as you were, despite having very valid, though unfortunate, reasons for why you’d been late. There wasn’t anything you could do but take it; as is the way with an abuse of power.

When you finally clocked in to work, you were completely swamped all day. You were grateful when your lunch break rolled around, especially since you hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning, but once again, your boss told you off. He said you didn’t get to have a lunch break that day since you were late, and that the time you’d lost during the morning could be made up during lunch.

You went back to your desk, fuming and extra irritable from being hungry. You typed away angrily, which you regretted as soon as your spacebar suddenly stopped working. Anger quickly bled into another bout of panic as you tried desperately to fix it yourself without having to tell your boss, but why would that have happened?

Facing your boss once again, you were met with more anger and unnecessary insults on your overall work performance. With each word that flew from his mouth, he chipped away at your ability to remain calm and collected, leaving you nearly at your breaking point when he sent you to request a new keyboard. You sent in the request and tried to take care of any tasks that didn’t require a keyboard.

Finally, you made it to the end of your day, feeling like a husk of the human you once were. You texted Colby that you were on your way home and that you’d be there soon. You just wanted to stop somewhere to pick up food and get home so you could just unwind for a bit. As you waited in the drive-thru line, you massaged your temples until you pulled up to the speaker.

You ordered your favorite fast-food treat, only to be told that, unfortunately, they were all out of one of the essential ingredients they needed to make your order. You couldn’t even respond, you felt so defeated. You drove away and tried to fight the heavy, suffocating lump in your throat as you made your way home. You focused completely on not letting your tears spill over; you did not want to cry. Not while you were driving, and honestly, not at all. You just wanted to be able to go home and go directly into your bed, under the covers, and sleep until the next morning.

You parked in your usual spot and kept your breathing steady as you walked through the front door of your home. Breathe in and breathe out, you coached yourself, keeping your face neutral as you removed your flats that had been digging a blister into your heel all day. You slowly made your way towards your bedroom, passing the living room as you did.

From inside, on the couch, came the cheerful greeting of your boyfriend. “Hey, babe,” he called, standing up to meet you in the hall.

You were more focused than ever on not crying. You turned and forced a tiny smile on your face, not wanting to unload all of your burdens onto him. He had such a busy life, and you knew in your heart that he had to deal with a lot more than you did on a day-to-day basis, so you didn’t want to add any more stress to his life than he already had.

Once he reached you, he put his hands on your shoulders and leaned in to give you a quick peck on the cheek. You were holding it together pretty well... until he asked, “How was your day?” with a sincere smile.

You could physically feel the fascade you were hiding behind break. Just as instantaneously as it cracked in half, you went from a tiny smile to hiccuping sobs.

Colby’s face dropped with concern, the suddenness of your tears catching him off guard. He pulled you into his arms with a wide-eyed expression on his face, trying to figure out how he could blink and miss the moments between you being seemingly okay to you being inconsolably upset. After a moment of trying to figure it out, he decided it wasn’t really that important to know—what was important was finding out what had made you upset and what he could do to help.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he murmured, his hand rubbing soothing circles across your back. You buried your face in his chest, not wanting to confront how terrible you were feeling despite being at the mercy of your own emotions—you had no choice but to let it out, even if you wanted to choke it all down.

“Why don’t we go to our room?”

You nodded at Colby’s suggestion, keeping your head down to hide the expression on your face. You held his hand and he let you lead him upstairs to your shared room. Walking in after you, Colby closed and locked the door to make sure you had total privacy. Before he could start to comfort you again, you were moving around the room, taking off your business casual clothes, all while you tried to explain through angry sobs as coherently as you could why you were so upset.

You furiously scrubbed the makeup off your face while you detailed the way your boss seemed to have it on his agenda to ruin your life today. You clumsily stepped into your fuzziest pair of pajama pants while you exasperatedly explained how hungry you were and how many times the day kept you from sitting down to eat. You unclipped your bra from under your shirt and threw it haphazardly across the room, landing somewhere near your laundry basket, before launching into an account of how you managed to break your keyboard and how your boss berated you for it. By the time you had finished ridding yourself of evidence that the day had even happened, you had gone through the events of your whole day, all while speaking (and often screaming) through sobs that had been contained for far too long.

Colby sat on his side of the bed, listening patiently as you got ready to relax, his expression a mix of concern and sympathy. Under the surface, he was fuming about how poorly your boss had treated you today—he wasn’t necessarily a great boss to begin with, but he really took it too far this time. However, he would save that anger for another time; you were the one who needed to let off some steam at the moment.

When you had finished recounting your day, you took a deep breath, your breathing coming out unevenly as you got out all of your anger and were left with feelings of sadness and frustration.

“Come here,” he said softly, opening his arms wide and sitting back against the pillows to allow you to cuddle into him comfortably. At his simple command, you hurried over and climbed into the bed next to him, grateful for the haven his embrace provided you.

It was hard to believe a little while ago you thought you’d be able to keep all of your emotions bottled up inside you. You continued to let everything out, not holding back on any sobs or sniffles. Colby, supportive as ever, encouraged you to stay cuddled up to him for as long as you needed. One of his arms hugged you tight against him while the other continued to caress you in a calming manner.

“I know today was really shitty and getting through it was really hard, and I’m really sorry you had to go through all that,” he began, his voice gentle and low. “But I want to remind you that you did get through it—all of it, even things that you had every right to give up on. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that you decided to quit on the spot as soon as your jackass of a boss even breathed near you.” He earned a tiny chuckle from you as you started to calm down. “Seriously, though, you pushed through a lot today. It would’ve been completely reasonable for you to not go into work after waking up that late, but you pushed through. I could totally understand if you told me you snapped at your boss after he chewed you out, but you pushed through. You could’ve done a lot worse than break your spacebar, and if I were in your position, I probably would’ve—but you pushed through that, too. You even kept pushing after you broke it and couldn’t get any more work done at your computer. And the fact that you didn’t set fire to that fast-food place after they couldn’t make you the only thing you wanted? Your self-control is truly admirable!”

You were giggling softly as Colby continued to compliment you on how you managed to make it through everything you had, looking up at him from where your head was laid on his chest. You could see his smile get bigger with every tiny laugh he coaxed out of you, and watching him get happier as you got happier truly made you feel a million times better. And you had to admit, he was definitely right—you had persisted through a lot that day, maybe even more than you should have.

“I’m proud of you. You’re such a strong person, and I love that about you,” he said, his voice a lot softer now. “You make me want to be strong, too.”

Your eyes were welling up again, but not from negative emotions. Instead, you were overwhelmed with gratitude and love for the man next to you. At a loss for words, you simply reached up and pressed your lips against his, letting your lips do the talking for you.

When you pulled away, you whispered, “Thank you.”

“Of course, baby. I’m glad I could help,” he smiled, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

As if your stomach could sense you were done letting out your emotions, it growled loudly, making both of you laugh. “I’ll order some food now, okay? We can stay in and watch a movie or something. Whatever you want,” Colby said, pulling out his phone to start placing an order.

“That sounds perfect,” you said, kissing his cheek before laying your head against his chest again.

It was funny, you realized, how you had imagined that Colby must’ve gone through so much worse in his daily life that you felt you definitely should be able to handle as much as you had and probably more. Yet here he was, admitting that you inspire him to be strong enough to get through his day. You nuzzled in closer, feeling extra grateful and extra humbled as that reality hit you, and you felt warmer knowing you kept each other going.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//just criss-cross things. bokuto koutarou//

Request: Because of you- Im getting hella forced to rank Bo higher up in my list so can I ask for any fluff of him too?- all writing reign is up to you bby- asdfghjkl

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 1.8K

Notes:  i hate that i wrote an almost 2K word fic about BRAIDING HIS HAIR

There was a routine in the Bokuto household.  The alarm went off promptly at 8:30 every morning and was snoozed with a tired groan until at least 8:45.  Your boyfriend would roll over, slowly opening his eyes to give you a sleep smile.  He’d plant his lips to yours, his upper half hovering slightly over your body, letting you run his fingers through his bedhead, knowing just how much you loved it when it sat softly against his forehead rather than styled into its normal spikes.  He would whisper a gentle, “Good morning,” voice still heavy from sleep, nuzzling his nose with yours.  Those five minutes of soft morning affection were always his favorite part of the day.

But, he’d roll out of bed, remembering what time it was and that he only had an hour before he needed to get going.  You would go make a pot of morning tea while he was in the bathroom, showering and going through his regular morning routine.  It was rare when things were thrown out of balance, but no matter what, it always felt like your little world was crashing down around you.  Sure, it sounded dramatic, but mornings tended to be rushed already.  There was little room for error in the tightly knit schedule.  

But when you heard Bokuto’s heavy groan of frustration bubbling from his chest as you were pouring the steaming tea into two mugs, you weren’t sure what was wrong, but you knew that it couldn’t be good.  You were already on your way to the bathroom to see what happened when he called out a loud, “Babe!”

Pushing the door open, you didn’t know what you were expecting.  But, Bokuto with half of his hair spiked up?  That was not it.  He just turned to look at you, puppy eyes filled with sadness.  “I’m out of hair gel,” he mutters, lips contorting into a pout as he shows you his empty container.

“I thought you went and got some yesterday, Kou?”

He see him shift awkwardly in his place, hand going to rub the back of his neck.  “Well, you see, I was going to but then, you know that pet shop on the way to the store?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you-”

“I wanted to play with bunnies and then, I just forgot!”  He whines, voice filled with exasperation, throwing his hands up in frustration with his one-track mind.  “But, now what am I supposed to do? I can’t go out like this,” he points to his hair disaster, “and if I leave it down, it gets in my eyes and I won’t be able to concentrate on practice, because I keep having to push it back!”

You place a hand on his back and push him towards the shower.  “Why don’t you wash the gel out and we’ll see what we can do, okay?”

“But, I already showered!  I don’t have time for another!”

“It’s just your hair, baby.  It’ll take you five minutes.”

Your boyfriend nods, not having any other solution to his current predicament.  And you were right, in a matter of minutes, he was out of the shower, hair plastered down against his forehead as if it had never been gelled in the first place.  Back in his clothes for practice, he sat up on the counter, furiously rubbing a towel against his hair while you rummaged through the cabinets, trying to find anything that could keep his hair out of his face.  You could use hair spray, but it probably wouldn’t be a strong enough hold.  You had a thin elastic headband, but as much as he moved around, it would just fall off his head more than it would stay.   Bobby pins? No, Bokuto would probably fidget with them like he always did when they were in your hair. 

It’s while he’s watching you contemplate a solution that he has one of the best ideas he’s ever had.  He tugs on a strand of your hair to get your attention.  “You know that criss-cross thing you do?”

“Criss-cross thing?  What are you talking about, Kou?”  You ask, looking up at him.

“You know, the thing with your hair.  The criss-cross thing!” He shouts, hopping down from the counter in excitement, rummaging through a drawer.  He knew that you kept them in here somewhere . . . 

Bokuto is beaming as bright as the early morning sun as he holds up your little container of elastics.  “You can do that to my hair!”

Your mouth opens in a little “Oh” as you finally figure out what the hell he was babbling about.  “You want me to braid your hair?”

“Yeah!”

“I don’t know, baby,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, examining it’s length.  It was longer than it usually was, sure, but it was still pretty short.  But, Bokuto was looking at you with expectant golden eyes, a look that he knew you could never refuse.  “I’ll try my best.”

He gives a hoot of excitement, wrapping his strong arms around you.  “You’re the best!  Okay, so what do I do!?”  The man is practically bouncing as he stares down at you, ready to do whatever he must to let this to be executed as well as possible.

“I just need you to sit,” you say, placing a hand on his shoulder to try to get him to sit, but he refuses to budge.

“Wait.  Can I make a bowl of cereal first?”

You can’t suppress your little giggles and just nod your head.  “Yeah.  Go get yourself some breakfast, baby.”

You don’t even have to say another word before he’s bounding towards the kitchen.  In a matter of seconds, he’s sitting on the floor of the living room in front of you, a bowl of Lucky Charms in his hands.  He had the television on, reruns of your favorite sitcom playing on the screen.  You would’ve taken a picture of him right then and there if you weren’t pressed for time.

You part his hair down the center where he normally separates his spikes.  You take three sections from the front, pausing before you start the ‘criss-cross thing.’  “Kou, if I pull your hair too much or it feels too tight, just let me know, okay?”

He just turns his head so he can smile up at you.  “Oh, come on, babe!  The criss-cross thing can’t be that bad!  I’m a tough guy.  I’ll be fine.”

And he was, but you on the other hand?  You were not.  Your fingers were cramping from tightly holding his hair before you were even done with the first braid.  It was way harder than you had initially thought.  The short strands of grey hair kept slipping from between your fingers, frustrating you further.

But, Bokuto didn’t notice in the slightest.  He was so lost in the gentle tugs of his hair and the feeling of your fingernails gently raking his scalp as you collected another section.  You should’ve seen his content grin, happily munching on his cereal, wiggling happily in his spot, cute little hoots and hums escaping him every few moments.  He looked like a happy toddler, watching Saturday morning cartoons.  

He’s shaken from his bliss by a firm hand on his shoulder, “Baby, I need you to sit still,” you say, tying off the end of the first braid.  It only spanned down to the crown of his head and the hairs at the nape of his neck were left out, but the braid accomplished what it needed to. 

Bokuto takes your words into accounts and stops moving. You can hear him give a little “Hmph” as he settles down, sitting firmly into his spot to finish off his cereal while you get to work on the remaining section of hair.  

Fingers near exhaustion and hand muscles tensing with each passing criss-cross motion, you manage to pull your boyfriend’s hair into two little braids.  “Kou, can you turn to look at me?” you ask, wrapping the last elastic around his hair. 

He twists in his spot so he can stare cutely up at you.  He looked absolutely adorable, two dutch braids running down his head, the tiny fluffs of remaining hair sitting cutely at his neck.  There’s a soft hum of approval as you tug some of his baby hairs down to frame his face.  “What do you think, baby?  Will it hold for practice?” You ask, stepping back and taking your phone out.  There was no way that you were letting this moment go undocumented. 

You snap a quick photo before Bokuto gets up, shaking his head vigorously, jumping around all to see if the braids will break their hold.  When he’s convinced that they're not going anywhere, he hovers over your shoulder, staring down at your phone screen.  “Aw, come on, babe!  I look terrible in that!  Delete it!”  He whines, making a grab for your phone.

You pull your phone closer to your body in an attempt to shield it from him.  “What are you talking about?  You look very cute, baby,” you say, looking up at him with sweet eyes.  

“Can we at least take a better one before I go?”

You can’t even give an answer before he’s snatching your phone, the front-facing camera pointed towards the two of you.  Your boyfriend slings his arm around your shoulders tugging you closer to his body as you both give goofy smiles for the camera.  He places a soft kiss to your lips, leaning his forehead against yours as he pulls back.  “Thank you, Y/N.  You’re the best, baby girl,” he whispers, pecking your lips one more time.

You’re completely prepared for him to hand you back your phone and get his things to leave, but rather, he holds your phone out of your reach, tapping away at the screen.  “Kou, what are you doing?”

“Sending them to myself.  I have to post my pretty girl to Instagram later,” he claims, beaming down at you as he hands you your phone.  He presses another kiss to your lips before heading to the front door to slip on a pair of sneakers and grab his practice bag.  “I’ll see you later!”

You say your good-byes, checking your phone as it vibrates.  There’s a smile that takes over your face as you see your new lock screen.  Bo’s smiling face is filling the screen, slightly obscured by:

                                      1 New Message: Kou :)

                                      I have the other half ;P

[kumkaniudaku]

No Nut November

A/N: Shoutout to the anon that requested this. I hope you enjoy!

"Stop it!"

"No, you stop!"

"You were saying don't stop earlier today. Which one is it?"

"Shut up!"

Like high school sweethearts, CoCo and Chadwick sat together in their therapist's office, giggling and sharing small touches. Things had been almost perfect as they counted the days until their wedding. Aside from minor spats that were handled using the tools they learned in therapy, the friends turned lovers were enjoying the fruits of a healthy relationship.

Dr. Barea quietly walked into the office, unbeknownst to her favorite couple before stopping to observe their conversation.

"Ya know, when you two are on the same page, it's a beautiful thing to see." She smiled as Tasha timidly pulled away from Chadwick only for him to scoot closer and drape an arm around her shoulder. "Oh, don't stop on account of me. Continue the love fest!"

"We're just trying to make you proud. You've done a lot for us."

"Always a pleasure," Andrea laughed. "Well, since we're all smiles, it's only right that we have a free session. What's going on in the lives of my favorite, almost married couple?"

Tasha looked over at Chadwick and smiled, "We're thinking about moving in together early. It feels right. We're happy and spending every day together." Finally, looking away from her fiancé's loving gaze, she gave Andrea her full attention. "What do you think? Are we ready?"

"I think you're on the right track. How've you two been dealing with disagreement lately?"

"We're applying the listen, learn, level approach," Chadwick gushed while gripping Tasha's knee.

Andrea quickly jotted the small gesture in her notebook as she took in his statement. "Great. And how has that helped? Any discoveries?"

"I learned that Tasha just needs a moment to blow off steam before we talk."

"And I learned that Aaron prefers to solve problems in the moment, no matter how long it takes."

Dr. Barea watched Tasha's hand float to Chadwick's inner thigh and rest for a moment before her thumb began a gentle stroke. Noting the third instance of PDA, she sat forward in her chair.

"Tell me, how often are you two having sex?" Chadwick let off a surprised cough while Tasha's eyes bulged from her head. "What? We're cool here. I would guess maybe 3-4 times a week?"

"Higher," Tasha suggested.

"More than five?"

"Try twice a day."

It was Andrea's turn to be surprised as she forced herself into taking a sip from her coffee mug. "Wow. Okay. Um...woah. Where do you find the time?!"

"Before work, after work, getting dressed... Sunday's are usually empty."

"There was that one time during your lunch too."

"Oh yeah! I forgot about that."

Their therapist sat in stunned silence, mentally taking notes for both their file and her husband at home. She allowed them to run through several scenarios before lifting her hands in surrender.

"Okay! Shouldn't have asked," she laughed. "So, that's what's been keeping you two happy."

"I mean, we like each other too, now. Sex is just the cherry on top."

"Right. Of course. Out of curiosity, though, how often do you hang out? No sex at any point together."

"Last weekend," Tasha proclaimed. Her proud smile soon dissipated once the realization hit. "Wait, no. We had sex later that night."

"What about dinner with your friends last month?"

"No, we had sex in the car when we left."

Chadwick whispered, 'oh yeah' before sitting back to think. "Maybe when we had lunch on Monday. But then again…"

"Do you see my point," Andrea laughed. "Is sex the only way to enjoy each other? Trust me; I understand the bliss of engagement. Still, I'm afraid that your relationship's entire existence is wrapped in physical pleasure instead of the genuine enjoyment of your partner. Would you agree?"  

CoCo and Chad sat in silence, understanding Andrea's sentiment but not wanting to admit she was right. She could sense the smoldering stubbornness which fueled her next move.

"Let's cut this session short so that you guys can jump on what might be my favorite homework assignment to date." Dr. Barea stopped short to drink from her mug amid protests from her clients. "Today is November 1st, and I want you two to cease all sexual activity until the end of the month. That includes solo fun."

"What!"

Andrea laughed at Chadwick and Tasha's simultaneous response and decided to show some mercy. "Okay, until Thanksgiving. But you'll get extra moral points if you can hold out for the entire month. In that time of abstinence, you are not allowed to decrease the time spent together. Carry out your routines as normal. I suggest you test out your moving in theory. Spend some time together outside of the bedroom and see what happens. I guarantee you'll be rewarded."

After several minutes of bargaining that ended in disappointment from the couple, Tasha and Chadwick left the office angry and strangely aroused. The mere sight of each other doing otherwise mundane tasks heightened the sexual tension between the two as they settled into Tasha's condo to live together for the month. Silent prayers as they piled into bed and attempted to cuddle were sent to God to ask for strength to keep their hands to themselves.

It was going to be a long month.

WEEK ONE

Chadwick stood at the bottom of the stairs in CoCo's condo, holding her heels and keys to help her as she rushed out of the house. Sleeping in the same bed without touching was beginning to affect her sleep pattern, leading to several restless nights and late starts.

"Oh my God, babe, I am fucked." Both of them caught the unintended second meaning and shivered at their sad sex life. "Well, shit, at least if I were literally fucked, being late would feel better."

"Only two more days left in the week before we make it to week two."

"Which means only two more weeks until you can take me to pound town."

Shaking his head at her joke, Chadwick extended his hand to provide balance for CoCo to slip into her shoes.

"I can't wait. But for now, you need to go to work."

It wasn't abnormal for them to leave each other with a quick kiss in the mornings, but today felt...different. The hard lines spanning Chadwick's body seemed to create the perfect grooves for the soft curves of Tasha's body. Their lips lingered a bit longer than usual as they fought an inner battle for restraint.

CoCo let go of a small moan and a shaky breath before pulling away. "I...I have to go. I can't suck your dick right now. I can't! Stop asking!"

"Wha…?" Chadwick started as she dashed to the front door.

Looking back, she bit her lip and shook her head, "I said, stop asking!"

The door slamming shook the coat rack beside it and left Chadwick in total shock with a small smile on his face. "Wow, I'm in love with a crazy woman."

WEEK TWO

"Babe, can you bring the shrimp over here? The pan is ready."

Following instructions, Chadwick navigated the quaint kitchen to deliver the cutting board to its destination. In two weeks of living together with no sexual contact, Chadwick suggested an indoor date night in an attempt to reduce the tension in the house. He knew it was time for a change when watching CoCo clean the kitchen counter one night made him more excited than he should've been. Being in the same room and smelling her perfume would make him tingle with excitement until he realized that he wouldn't be able to get any closer.

Making his way across the kitchen, he stopped short when he reached the stove.

"Co, I can't bring this to you. I'm sorry."

"Boy, stop playing and bring me the damn food. This butter is gonna burn!"

Chadwick found himself in a pickle. He could refuse to bring the item a second time, but that would end in anger and an empty stomach. Or, he could slide past Tasha's backside as risk losing all sense of himself once their bodies came in contact. Taking a deep breath, he told himself to choose the latter option to prove that he could withstand the temptation.

He planned to move quickly without looking down. If he couldn't see the forbidden fruit, he wouldn't feel the urge to bite. He nearly succeeded until a sudden shift in CoCo's stance left him butt to crotch with filthy thoughts tormenting his brain.

"Shit," he whispered as the bowl roughly collided with the countertop, sending some of the shrimp tumbling onto the counter.

"Are you okay? Did you trip?"

As CoCo attempted to turn around, Chadwick anchored his hands on the counter and shook his head. "Don't move! Stay right there. Give me a moment." Another shift on her heels made his body stiffen at the sensation. "Baby, please! Stop moving!"

"What do you want me to do!"

"Moan my name," he breathed out.

"What?!" Craning her neck around, she found him with his eyes clamped shut and lips parted to draw in shallow breaths. "Are you aroused right now?"

"I'm aroused all day, Co! Now moan my name."

"You know what, you can finish cooking. I'm going back to the living room."

Tasha made it a point to press her body into his as she left the area, forcing him to deal with the pain of rejection and an unattended erection alone.

WEEK THREE

The sexual energy in the house was at an all-time high to match the building tension. Small infractions would create an argument in seconds that forced them to institute the listen, learn, and level method more than before. As the end of the challenge approached, they found that they were spending time together without thought of sex, forcing them to cut physical contact short.

With Twister spread across the living room floor, Chadwick and CoCo's Friendsgiving game night raged on with the lovers locked in a winner takes all battle of bending prowess.

"Okay, Tash," Devin hollered over the noise. "Right hand on green!"

Looking around the board, CoCo smiled and began to move her hand, "You gone have to come harder than that, this ain't nothin' but a little lunge."

Her move placed her in a comfortable position with her feet shoulder-width apart and her palms on the ground a few spots ahead of her body.

"Tasha has assumed the position. Chad, your turn. Left hand on yellow."

With both of his feet on separate red dots, Chadwick searched for a comfortable spot to place his hands. Those watching the game sat in silence while he made his decision. Finally, his hand landed on the dot behind Tasha's left elbow, forcing him to hover over his fianceé slightly. Instantly, they were transported into a moment that featured fewer people and even less clothing.

The downward dog variation made them shiver with the contact. Tasha could feel the weight of Chadwick's body on her back, the same weight that would trap her to the bed as he explored the depths of her body. His touch made her light-headed and sent her body collapsing to the ground. Her sudden fall caused him to tumble on top of her with a thud.

Sprawled across the floor, the lovers fought to catch their breath.

"So, does that mean both of them lost?"

"I think it means we need to let them have a moment."

Slowly, the crowd began to thin out, leaving them on the ground in separate dazes. Tasha was the first to snap out of her trance and turn her head to address Chadwick.

"In one week, I want you back on this floor without those pants."

Smiling, he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. "It's a date."

WEEK FOUR - THANKSGIVING

A long day of family friends and food kept Chadwick and CoCo away from home until the wee hours of the morning. Both of them wore a goofy smile as they used each other to stumble into the condo buzzing from the Rose served at their final stop.

"I'm gonna go put this pie in the kitchen," Tasha announced as she made her way across the room. "You want water?"

"Yes, please. My mouth feels like cotton."

Chadwick made short work of securing the door before joining CoCo at the kitchen counter. Her growling stomach overruled her plan to save the sweet potato treat for the next day. She was so into her food that it took her several moments to notice her partner staring at her.

"What," she asked with her mouth full of food.

"I'm excited for us to have Thanksgiving in one house one day soon. Our families under one roof with some kids that look like us running around."

CoCo chuckled before shoveling another bite of food into her mouth. "And you coming to the kitchen to steal food. I see your vision."

"Speaking of, let me taste some of that."

Tasha watched Chadwick lean across the barrier between them with her lip trapped beneath her teeth. He moved with the type of smooth confidence that made her heart flutter every time. When his face was close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, CoCo lifted her fork to feed him a piece of her dessert.

Watching his tongue escape his mouth to accept the food before using it to lick his lips was a moment that became far more sexual than intended.

A glimpse of the clock across the room made the gears of Chadwick's mind turn. "What time is it?"

"2:00 am. Why?"

Taking a swipe of sweet potato from atop the crust, Chadwick held it between their lips and smiled. "We made it to the finish line. How should we celebrate?" His index finger slowly swiped pie filling across CoCo's bottom lip to watch her repeat his earlier display. The moment she finished, he pulled her face closer to taste for himself. Sparks flew behind their eyelids as they settled into the significance of the moment. Pulling away left them breathless and ready for more.

A split second sent them in a race to throw clothes and shoes around the room and meet each other and around the counter until they were tangled on the cold tile of the kitchen floor.

"Babe, wait," Tasha panted, breaking the kiss to make sure her words were heard.

"What's wrong?"

Smiling, Tasha pressed her lips against his and pointed up at the counter.

"Grab the pie."

---------

TAGS:

@k-michaelis

@wakandanmoonchild

@idilly

@texasbama

@afraiddreamingandloving

@inxan-ity

@onyour-right

@sisterwifeudaku

@killmongerdispussy

@90sinspiredgirl

@willowtree77785901

@maynardqueen101

@heyauntieeee

@halfrican-heat

@purple-apricots

@lalapalooza718

@blue-ishx

@profilia

@ljstraightnochaser

@girl-wtf-lmao

@royallyprincesslilly

@melaninmarvel

@thiccdaddy-mbaku

@lavitabella87

@purplehairgawdess

@unholyxcumbucket

@airis-paris14

@uhlxis

@oshasimone

@maliadestiny

@drsunshine97

@zxddy-panther

@queentearra

@skysynclair19

@retro-melanin

@mermaidchansons

@misspooh

@melanisticroyalty

@babygirlofwakanda

@wakanda-4evr

@sarahboseman

@karensraisns

@wakandankings

@ororowrites

@awkwardlyabstract

@mixedmelanin

@brownsugarcocoabutterwildflowers

@cosmicmelaninflower

@justanotherloveaffair

@oceanscorazon

@jaeee-http

@iliketowrite1996

@blackpantherismyish

@soldierandawar

@msincognito67

@reignsxjackson

@yaachtynoboat711

@syreanne

@minim236

@yoyolovesbucky

@maddiestundentwritergaines

@bribrisback

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Decryption Error: “The Long Weekend, Part I”

Summary: Elliot and Y/N’s friendship continues to deepen as they spend time together. Even though the aftermath of what happened in the server room isn’t something either of them can forget as Tuesday morning draws closer, Y/N can’t help but wonder if being in a relationship with Elliot is what she really wants.

Summary/Mood Board,  “The Server Room, Part I”,  “The Server Room, Part II”

Word Count: 7700

Tags: @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @teamwolf2411 @limabein  @lovie-rami @txmel @hopplessdreamer @ouatlovr  @backoftheroomandnotbelonging  @alottanothing  @moon-stars-soul  

If you want added, just let me know.

Warnings: Marijuana use, slight sexual references

Why am I in the guest room?

Oh.

That’s why.

My thoughts were only muddled for a moment until I glanced down and was greeted by a pile of messy black hair and the faint smell of cigarettes that clung to a well-loved hoodie.  

I turned my eyes toward the nightstand as I reached for my phone to read the time.

9: 21 am.

I needed to call Franco if I wanted to have a chance of replacing the ruined servers before Tuesday. As I attempted to slide out from under Elliot, his arm tightened around me and his breath hitched before he sighed, still fast asleep. It looked like I was going to have to wake him up to make my escape.

“Elliot,” I whispered.

“Elliot,” I said again, this time in a clear voice.

Nothing.

I sighed and reached up to wipe the sleep away from the corners of my eyes, hoping my movements would wake him.

I looked down again and was struck with a profound sadness.

Elliot was clinging to me like I was the last thing tethering him to reality. His head was snuggled into the middle of my chest, his face planted between my breasts. His arm was slung across my lower ribs and his leg was hooked over mine. He also had my other arm trapped between our bodies which meant that my hand was—oh.

Yup.

That’s some morning wood.  

I didn’t want to embarrass Elliot, but I desperately needed to call Franco. I thought I could just hook my leg over the edge of the bed and pull myself out, like one of those tricks where the magician pulls the tablecloth out from under a perfectly set table.

I moved my leg to the edge of the mattress and also used my free arm to do just what I had imagined.

It worked.

However, it also resulted in Elliot’s head thunking onto the mattress and startling him awake.

He sat up quickly, his head whipping back and forth to take in his surroundings before he fixed his eyes on me as I clung to the bed, half in and half out.

“You’re a heavy sleeper,” I said as I stood up and watched Elliot clutch at the blanket, his brows furrowing as his eyes searched my face.

“Do you know where you are?” I asked when Elliot failed to say anything.

He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He cleared his throat but only a whisper was all he could manage. For the second time that morning, I felt a deep sadness. 

He wrecked his voice yelling for someone to let him out of the server room.

“Your place,” he croaked as he reached up to tentatively touch his head, wincing when he made contact with the bandaged wound.

I nodded as I stood by the bed.

“I need to call my friend Franco to see if he can get me some servers to replace the damaged ones. If he can get them to the office, you and I can install them, route them back into the network, and things can function as normal on Tuesday.”

Elliot nodded and croaked again, scowling over his inability to speak.

“Hey—it’s not like you use that voice that much anyway,” I said, pulling a frustrated smile from him.

“Have a lie-in while I make some tea and figure out our next move,” I said as I dialed Franco’s number and left Elliot alone in the guest room.

As it turned out, Franco could get the servers, but he couldn’t get them until Monday.

“Are you sure, Franc—no one in the city can do it any earlier? Money is no object,” I added, a clench of disgust shooting through me as I said it.

“Yes—I know you know, but I had to say it. It’s been that rough of a night,” I stated as I moved the whistling kettle off the burner.

“Monday it is then—I don’t care how early in the morning.”

“Stop thinking you still owe me something—this should make us pretty fucking even,” I quietly laughed, rolling my eyes and pulling teacups from the cupboard.

“Uh-huh. So noble of me to offer up Dad’s money.”

“Yes, the tea’s on.”

“Shut up. Call me if anything changes—bye.”

And before Franco could hang up, I spit out, “I’ll owe you!”

Franco Rivera attended Columbia on a scholarship. He used to be a skinny little Puerto Rican kid who literally fought his way through middle school and his freshman year of high school. Fate intervened when Franco saw something on TV talking about our increasing dependence on technology; paired with watching the rich kids at school get their Xboxes and iPods, Franco decided to learn everything he could about computers. When he got to Columbia, he already had a fully formed business plan for a company that would sell and repair computer equipment—eventually, he broke into the distribution of serves by capitalizing on the trend of companies moving toward software-defined data centers that relied on open-source standards. Franco had earned his big break by being smart and identifying a trend; however, he got the startup money for his company because I was his first investor.

I loved being able to support my friends—wealth wasn’t something to be hoarded; it was something to be used to give back to your community. My father had instilled that value in each of his children, and Franco’s company had been my first real investment.

Now, Franco had a company that employed over 45 people, and it was still growing.

I wasn’t naïve, though. I read. I researched. I paid attention. Working in the Financial District opened my eyes to the rampant greed that allowed people to damn near get away with murder if it meant making a profit. I liked to believe I was working for a good company—a company my father, who I knew was a good man, painstakingly chose to invest in.

But there was always a part of my mind that wasn’t so sure if any corporation could be categorized as “good.”

Maybe I really was naïve.

Elliot appeared in the kitchen and drew me from my thoughts. He was still tucked into his hoodie and he reached down to hitch up the oversized sweats once he stopped walking.

“I’m sorry I’m not a coffee drinker,” I said as I got up to pour Elliot some tea.

Elliot shrugged his shoulders and watched as I prepared the tea, eyeing the serving tray everything was set out on. I was copious with the honey and then squeezed in a good bit of lemon, too.

“Our nanny was English,” I explained as Elliot eyed my set-up. “Presentation always matters when it comes to tea.”

I smiled as I offered Elliot the steaming cup.

“Drink it all—the honey and lemon will help with your throat.”

Elliot took a long drink, using both of his injured hands to hold the cup steady.

“How much of my conversation did you catch?”

The tea helped give Elliot a bit of his voice back and he rasped, “Monday. No servers until Monday.”

“I don’t suppose you know anyone who could do better?”

Elliot shook his head no before adding, “Impressed you got them so fast.”

“Franco’s an impressive guy—he never met a “no” he couldn’t turn into a “yes.”

Elliot settled on to the same kitchen chair as he sat in last night, and we sipped tea in silence until I decided to talk aloud about what I had been planning.

“I was thinking we could swing by your place, get whatever you need for the weekend—don’t even open your mouth. First of all, you’re injured. Second of all, it’s a holiday and I don’t want to spend it alone. Third of all, Christ only knows how long it is going to take to do all of this, and if something goes wrong, I need you.”

Elliot never took his eyes off my face and I almost laughed as I saw the fight just drain out of them. Like Franco, I could also turn a “no” into a “yes.”

Elliot swung off the chair and walked over to his backpack; he pulled out his cellphone and his cigarettes. He held the pack up to silently ask permission.

“No, you can’t smoke in here, but I take it as a compliment I stress you out so much you need a cigarette,” I teased.

“Go out on the balcony. There’s an ash tray because some of my other friends are savages, too.”

Elliot rolled his eyes, and when I made a noise of offense, he turned and shot me a grin, an actual full-blown Elliot Alderson grin.

“Be still my heart,” I said, teasing him even more and drawing out a silent laugh as he opened and closed the balcony door.

* * * * *

Elliot was quiet during the drive to his place. I listened as the navigator gave me directions after he had plugged his address into my GPS.

When we arrived, I cut the engine and said, “I can wait, or I can come up, but I’ll confess I’m afraid you won’t come back if I just let you go alone.”

In his raspy voice, Elliot replied, “You can come up.”

I followed Elliot into his building and up the stairs to his apartment; he didn’t live in the greatest neighborhood, but I put the shabby interior—peeling paint, noises from other people in the building, the single, easy lock on the door—out of my mind and acknowledged my own bias.

Everything Elliot had, he earned on his own and I admired that.

While the interior of Elliot’s apartment was in better condition than the exterior, my eyes immediately went to the mattress on the floor in the bedroom. I wanted nothing more than to pull up my Amazon account and order him a bedframe—just a simple platform bed, nothing fancy.

“Sorry—don’t really have people over,” Elliot whispered, his voice cracking a little as he rubbed at the back of his head before realizing his hands still hurt too much for that.

I smiled and shrugged my shoulders, “I think it’s cozy.”

Elliot gave me a half-smile as he looked desperate to shove his hands in his hoodie pockets.

“Do you mind if I take a shower and change?” Elliot asked in his broken voice, hitching up the sweats once again.

“Of course not. You’re not my prisoner . . . unless you want to be?” I said darkly as I quirked my brow, pulling another lopsided smile from him.

“I am, though—at least until. . .” Elliot trailed off, his eyes leaving mine and fixing on the laptop that was sitting on the tiny table in front of the couch.

“Shower,” I said, taking a seat on the couch and pulling out my phone to prove I could occupy myself.

As soon as Elliot disappeared into the bathroom and turned the water on, I put my phone away and started tidying up. I gathered up the pizza boxes on top of the microwave and the take-out containers beside the sink. I pulled out the full trash bag and replaced it with a new one that I dug out from the nearly empty cupboard under the sink. I sat the garbage bag by the door so we could toss it on the way out.

Next, I went in to make the bed, and while the smell of stale cigarettes and—yeah, definitely weed, lingered, the sheets smelled a lot like Elliot. When I caught the scent of him, I found myself inadvertently smiling, which scared the shit out of me.  

I shook it off and reminded myself I was Elliot’s boss and that I was also in his apartment on a Saturday because he destroyed four servers and didn’t remember doing it.

Without being too invasive, I looked around for the things that made the place “Elliot.” His reading selections were interesting: high-brow literature mixed in with metafiction, computer books that were probably from college, but as I looked closer, I saw that many of them were really old, ancient, in fact. I wondered if they had sentimental value.

He also had some psychology books and some philosophy books, including one that looked interesting called, Digital Disconnect. It was sitting on the shelf nearest to his computer, so my eyes continued their trajectory by scanning over the elaborateness of his computer desk; it was the only thing that seemed to scream “Elliot Alderson” in the entire place.

Something was niggling in the back of my mind—being here, looking over Elliot’s apartment made me realize something . . . was just off. He was so neat and particular at work about his desk and his workspace. I wondered why his apartment didn’t reflect that same precision. I thought through the possibilities and wondered if Elliot was depressed. I knew about his anxiety and his inclination to avoid touch, but his apartment told a deeper story.

Yet, another part of me thought about the fact that we are all multiple people, changing our masks from one situation to the next. How we are at home is not how we are in public; how we are with close friends is not how we are with strangers or new acquaintances.

The only way to find out which theory was correct was to get to know Elliot better.

When I heard the shower click off, I quickly made my way back to the couch. As I tucked my legs under me, my eyes landed on a little box on the end table. Curious, I opened the lid to take a peek and discovered it was his weed box. I jumped back when the bathroom door opened, surely looking guilty as sin, but I was equally sure that look was slapped off my face by another when Elliot came padding out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a too small towel that he clutched at his hip.

I am certain my mouth dropped open at his near nakedness because he squeaked out an apology before walking quickly to his dresser. I had not noticed the delightful trail of dark hair that ran down his stomach and disappeared beneath his towel last night, which I silently applauded myself for.

But right now, Elliot was not in immediate distress, so I found I myself watching the muscles in his back move as he dug around for clean clothes, wondering just how much that little towel would let me see. After another second, I mentally slapped myself and forced my mind to start functioning with some sense of propriety. I shifted my position on the couch, sitting so my back was against the armrest and I was facing the kitchen.

“Did you make my bed?” Elliot’s voice cracked with the question.

“I have an illness. I’m so sorry,” I said in a voice that was too loud for my naked employee’s tiny apartment.

I could hear Elliot shuffle into his clothes, his muffled curses audible as he had to use his hands to dress.

“Do you need help?” I asked, hoping to any god it didn’t sound slutty when I said it.

“Nah. I’m good. Hands are just stiff,” Elliot said, his voice a little clearer as he walked out from the bedroom.

“Kitchen, too?”

I looked over at him and while shrugging said, “I told you I have an illness.”

Elliot shook his head as if I were some sort of mystery he wasn’t ready to figure out.

“Do you have a first-aid kit here or anything? I can rebandage your hands, or at least your head.”

Elliot walked back into the bathroom and came out with a little basket that held some butterfly bandages, Neosporin, gauze, medical tape, and a few other first-aid things.

“Impressive,” I said digging around once he handed me the basket.

Elliot took a seat, flexing his hands and looking them over as I adjusted my position to scoot closer to him. The gash looked much better already, but there was definitely bruising around the wound. I swiped at some of the wetness along Elliot’s hairline before gently applying the butterfly bandage.

“Did I hurt you?” I asked, my eyes searching his face for any sign of pain.

“Didn’t feel a thing,” Elliot said with a quick flick of a smile, his voice still a whisper.

I held his gaze for way too long, lost in the depths of his grey, well, maybe a little more blue in this light, eyes.

“Let’s see those hands,” I said, blinking and finally looking away, wondering if there was blush coloring my cheeks because it sure felt like it.

He spread them out, flat on his thighs and his fingers trembled as he tried to stretch them. His knuckles still looked awful, torn and scraped, and the bruises had deepened into a darker red.

I dug around in the first aid basket again to pull out the bandages, medical tape, and the Neosporin. I applied the Neosporin to the worst looking of the cuts on his pinky, ring, and middle finger of his right hand, wrapping band aids around each of those second knuckles. On his left, he had deep gashes on the knuckles of his first and middle fingers so I had to apply Neosporin and use the gauze to cover that area. I tried to apply the medical tape so it wouldn’t be a nuisance, but it was such an awkward place to bandage.

“Sorry,” I said as I smoothed the tape.

“It’s fine,” Elliot rasped.

I put the medical supplies back in the basket and handed it to Elliot who returned it to the bathroom.

Because I could think of no other way to ask, I pointed to his weed box and blurted out, “Can we take that with us?” in my same too-loud-for-this-apartment voice.

Elliot laughed, his shoulders shaking and his teeth flashing, except that with his hoarse voice there was very little noise that emitted from his throat.

“Thank you for laughing, or in your case, shaking, at my awkwardness,” I said narrowing my eyes and frowning.

Elliot composed himself quickly, clearly worried he had actually offended me.

“You seem way too straight to smoke. You made me smoke a legal cigarette on the balcony,” he explained, still grinning, his voice rasping and graduating to an occasional squeak.  

“Marijuana does not have the same Surgeon General’s warning as cigarettes,” I retorted. “Just forget I asked.”

Elliot shook his head and picked up his box, walking over to where he sat his backpack down and placed it inside.

He shot me a smartass glance before he took his backpack into the bedroom and packed up some more of his things.

“What else did you go through?” Elliot asked as he shouldered his bag, his eyes glancing toward his computer desk.

“I would never violate your privacy,” I said, a little offended that he seemed to think looking in a box on an end table that smelled like weed was akin to going through someone’s computer.

“Besides, I’m just way too straight to do such a thing,” I said, mocking him from earlier.

Elliot smirked and watched me with those big eyes again as he moved to stand in front of me, so close that I had to tilt my chin up to meet his gaze.

“Remind me to tell Pandora not to invite you over to her place,” he deadpanned.

“Smartass,” I said as a grin overtook my lips.  

* * * * *

Before I put my car in gear, I did a quick google and loaded up the directions to a nearby grocery store. As soon as the navigator announced our destination, Elliot whipped his head in my direction.

I smiled and said nothing as I followed the navigation.

My car seemed to fill with Elliot’s unease and I had about all I could take of his shuffling in the seat next to me before he finally asked why we were going to the market.

“Well, since I was denied my long weekend, I figured we could have our own version of a picnic today. Do you ever eat anything other than takeout?”

Elliot took a while to answer the question, probably warring with just how much he wanted to tell me.

“Not lately,” Elliot finally decided.

After another long pause, Elliot rasped, “I don’t really know what people eat at a picnic—hamburgers, hotdogs, that sort of thing, but isn’t it different for every family?”

“Alright, I see your point. Well, what did your family do?”

“I don’t remember,” came Elliot’s very quick, very quiet reply. It was such an unnerving response that it made me feel anxious. I felt bad for prying, and even though it was an innocent question, the more I got to know him, the further away I felt from understanding him.

I compensated by talking in a rush about my family traditions.

“My family is pretty traditional. My dad grew up on a farm and so did my mom, although her family only raised horses. They both know how to cook good, old-fashioned dishes and picnic food for us was always, like you said, hamburgers and hot dogs, macaroni or potato salad, pasta salad, bean salad, cole slaw, fruit trays, veggie trays. Stuff like that. Mmm—and chocolate cake or brownies or s’mores for dessert. My mom makes a killer chocolate cake.”

“You’re going to make all of that?”

“Why? Does it all sound good? Not gonna lie—I’d love to fatten you up a little,” I said glancing over at Elliot as I turned down the street next to the store to look for parking.

Elliot didn’t say anything, so I let the question hang awkwardly in the air.

Grocery shopping with Elliot Alderson was no different than shopping with a morose teenager, except he was a little more interested in what was going in the cart instead of playing on his phone. He kept his hood up and his eyes darted around everywhere, like something was going to jump off the shelf and attack him.

As I was mulling over whether to get the tri-color noodles for the pasta salad or to stick with the plain, it occurred to me I was totally alone. I threw the tri-color noodles in the cart and glanced around, wondering where he went. As I made my way to look at the produce, I got a little worried it was too much for him and he bailed. I had just pulled my phone out of my bag to text him when he reappeared.

I laughed when I saw what he was carrying—s’more supplies.

“Dessert?” he questioned and I nodded yes.

“Good decision,” I praised.

Elliot offered to help me pay for the groceries, but I told him he could pay his way by helping me cook. He acquiesced, but insisted on carrying everything, loading up his arms with my grocery totes while I scolded him about his hands.

Once we got back to my place and deposited all of our bags on my kitchen island, I got to work on organizing my food prep under Elliot’s watchful glances. He eventually removed his hood and started to relax. I glanced back at him as I set two pots of water to boil on the stove.

“Your hair’s kinda curly when it isn’t styled,” I noted.

Elliot frowned and ran his hands through it.

“I like it,” I said as I walked over to where he was sitting on the kitchen stool. 

“Can I?” I asked, my hand poised near his hair.

He nodded, and I ran my fingers over his scalp, fixing some of the stray pieces.

“There. Very nice—like a dark Ryan Phillippe circa late 90s.”

Elliot quirked a brow, probably unsure whether it was a compliment.

“Who is that?”

“You’ve never seen Cruel Intentions?”

Elliot shook his head no.

“Well—let me tell you, you’ve missed out. This was the movie that fostered the great love saga between Ryan Phillippe and Reese Witherspoon.”

I walked over to the TV and turned it on, flipping through my subscription services until I found the movie. I turned it on, and returned to my boiling pots, pouring noodles into one and dumping the potatoes into the other.

We cooked, chopping, slicing, and mixing, while we watched Cruel Intentions. Elliot was pretty enraptured by the actions of the characters, growing frustrated every time one of them did something terrible.

“You get really into movies,” I commented as I put the mayo back in the fridge and returned to stirring my potato salad.

“I like to think about what the characters should do and compare it with what they actually do,” Elliot said without moving his eyes from the screen, his voice stronger.

“Why?”

“I like to think about why people behave the way they do. Most of the time, I just don’t understand it . . . them. I don’t understand them.”

“Join the club,” I said.

Elliot turned away from the screen and looked at me.

“That’s not true—you know how to talk to people, how to manage them and their behaviors. Everyone at work respects you. Even likes you.”

“I’ve worked hard to earn a good reputation, but come on, El. I know what a lot of them say about me. It’s no secret my dad’s face is hanging behind the front desk downstairs.”

Elliot turned his attention back to the TV.

“You don’t act like them,” he said pointing to Kathryn and Sebastian.

I laughed and said, “I sure hope most people don’t!”

“I mean you don’t act rich.”

“My parents would kick my ass if I did. Not everyone on Wall Street is evil.”

After a long silence, I asked, “So, which character do you find the most interesting to watch?”

“Annette,” he replied almost immediately.

“Really? Not Sebastian?”

“Nah. You can tell he’s just another trope—a Byronic hero who will probably die as soon as he achieves self-actualization.”

“So, why’s Annette more interesting?” I said, avoiding confirming Elliot’s theory.

“She’s unafraid to follow her beliefs even though they go against societal norms, well the norms of her peer group at least.”

“Sex is hard to resist,” I said.

“Especially at that age,” Elliot added.

“Do you speak from experience?”

Elliot’s head snapped in my direction, his widened eyes moving over my face as he decided, presumably, whether or not to answer me.

“I guess so,” he finally decided.

I smiled and stated, “You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. Ever. I’m getting used to you just ignoring me when you don’t want to say anything.”

“I don’t mean to,” Elliot said, and when I looked at him for clarification, he elaborated.

“I don’t mean to ignore you or anyone really. It’s just sometimes better that I don’t say what’s in my head out loud.”

“Does that get tiring? Having to always filter yourself?”

“Yeah. It does. But it’s better than being called a freak.”

“Have you been called that?”

Elliot looked back to the TV, and softly replied, “Yeah.”

I walked over to him and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. Elliot closed his eyes and sighed.

“You can’t make up for every shitty thing that’s ever been said or done to me.”

“What if I want to try? What if I want to erase all that bad and create good to go in its place?”

“It’s impossible, Y/N. People are naturally inclined to hurt other people. Or at the very least, disappoint them.”

I frowned, wanting to tell Elliot he was wrong, but was he? Look at what just happened to him. It was clear this wasn’t the first time in his life something this shitty was done to him. I had no room to stand on a soapbox and tell him everything would be okay.

It was never okay for people like him.

I sighed, and I moved back to the other side of the kitchen island to start searching for my grill pan.

Elliot got up and paused the movie, heading out on the balcony to smoke.

After I prepped the pan and laid out the hamburgers and hot dogs, I joined Elliot on the balcony. He was almost done with his cigarette, but a pretty long ash had grown at the end as he was staring at his phone.

“What’s up?”

Elliot didn’t move or say anything for a minute, so I reached out to pull his cigarette away and stub it out in the ashtray. That movement caused his eyes to flicker up before he tossed his phone down on the little table.

He ran his hand through his hair and his leg began to bounce up and down.

I pushed.

“What happened?”

“Everyone knows,” Elliot muttered.

“Knows what?”

Elliot looked at me like I was an idiot, but I couldn’t read his damn mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about and stop looking at me like I’m an idiot because I can’t read your mind.”

“Everyone knows what the fuck happened in the server room!” Elliot yelled, standing up and kicking at the chair he was sitting in, sending it crashing into the side of my apartment. He was pacing, both hands in his hair, his eyes unable to focus on anything for more than a millisecond.

While it was unnerving to see this side of Elliot, I tried my best to tamp down my own frustration. I kept my voice even and calm when I asked Elliot about the message he received.

“Who texted or emailed you?”

“Sarah texted me.”

“What did she say?”

Elliot stopped pacing and picked up his phone, quickly entering his passcode and then thrusting the phone out to me.  

Are you okay???

Answer me Elliot!!!

Aaron told me what Ali Maurice and Corey did—Aaron feels horrible. So does Julia.

Please answer me because if you don’t I’m calling Colin.

“Elliot. Answer her. I do not want Colin involved in this.”

“I don’t know what the fuck to say,” Elliot said as he snatched his phone back. “Hey, I’m fine. I’m stuck at our boss’s house because I went fucking batshit. See ya at work. Smiley face.”

I frowned and walked over to fix the chair Elliot had kicked and I heard the click of his lighter as I thought about what to tell Sarah.

“I want their weekend ruined,” I said, and Elliot’s eyes flicked to my face, clearly surprised. “And it’s always best to tell as much of the truth as you can—an elaborate lie only makes you look bad and for the fifteenth time, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

I walked over to the balcony where Elliot was leaning, his cigarette forgotten as he listened.

“Tell Sarah that in order to get out, you had to pull the power cables on a few of the servers. You knew when they went down and didn’t come back on, Miles would call me in. Everyone knows Miles calls me for everything so that won’t be a surprise to her. It also won’t be a surprise you figured out how to get out without a phone because everyone knows you’re ridiculously smart.”

Elliot just stared at me.

“Text her!”

Elliot’s thumbs moved over the keys, and we both waited for her reply. I moved closer to Elliot so I could see his phone. He took another drag on his cigarette as Sarah’s reply popped up.

THANK GOD YOU ARE OKAY!!! THOSE FUCKING ASSHOLES!! They deserve to be FIRED and if Y/N knows what happened I bet they will be!!

“Alright,” I said. “She’s testing you—she’s digging around to see if you’ve told me what happened. Little snake—I thought liked her.”

“How do you know that’s what she’s doing?” Elliot said as he exhaled more smoke, his voice starting to croak again.

“Stop smoking—you’re ruining your voice! Anyway, she said, ‘if Y/N knows what happened.’ That means she is fishing to see if you told me everything, probably because it’s pretty damn obvious I’m one of about five people you talk to at work. You need to tell her you don’t know what I know because you left after I let you out. Tell her I was pissed and the last thing you heard was something about checking the sign out sheet to find out who didn’t sweep the office and set the alarm.”

Elliot followed my instructions, including the one about stubbing out his cigarette. Sarah responded, once again, almost immediately.

I’m glad you’re okay and I still think they all acted like fucking assholes, but I know Aaron and Julia are sorry they didn’t stop it or come back to let you out. Actually if you didn’t answer me, they were gonna get Colin and go in to let you out.

“Yup—she just confirmed that she’s fishing for Aaron and Julia.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She’s friends with them—at least, I know they hang out. They’ve come to happy hour together before and I’m pretty sure Sarah eats lunch with that whole group. Sarah must’ve texted at their request because she’s one of those handful of people you talk to.”

Elliot shrugged his shoulders and said, “I thought she was nice.”

“People are fucking complicated,” I said, pushing off from the railing.

“What do I say next?”

“What would you normally say?”

“Nothing.”

“There’s your answer. Come on—I’m starving and I’m going to pull my gender card and make you grill up the meat because you’re the boy. Can you handle that?”

Elliot nodded.

“Hey,” I said, turning around so fast Elliot almost ran into me.

I put my hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

“They’ve taken up enough space in your mind. Do not give them any more today.”

Elliot nodded and licked his lips, his eyes growing a little watery as I looked into them.

As it turned out, Elliot was capable of cooking. The burgers and hotdogs turned out great, and as he manned the grill pan, I spread out the food we had been prepping all day. It was entirely too much, ridiculously indulgent, but I didn’t care. I was stressed—stressed about last night, stressed about Elliot being stressed, and stressed about having to deal with all of this absolute bullshit come Tuesday morning.

“Come on—let’s take our plates on the balcony,” I said, leading Elliot out the sliding glass door.

It was hot out, but not quite as muggy as it was on Friday night. It really did make for the perfect picnic weather, and even though I was listening to the cacophony of the city streets instead of the lapping of water at my parents’ house, I was determined to be happy.

I was determined to at least pull Elliot out of his anxious thoughts. I wasn’t so bold as to assume I could make him happy, but if I could distract him, that would be good enough.

I walked over to the little wrought iron table that sat in the corner of the balcony and pulled it away from the wall to make room for both of us to sit. Elliot sat across from me and looked completely dejected.

“Don’t let them ruin anymore of your weekend, El,” I repeated. “We slaved over this all day—let’s enjoy each other’s company and enjoy all this damn food we made. We can pretend this is it—this is our last night of existence. Nothing comes after this so there’s nothing to stress about.”

“Isn’t that a little morbid?” Elliot asked, a smile playing with his lips.

“All the best people in history have always been a little morbid, don’t you think?”

Elliot shrugged, but I kept the conversation flowing. Soon, the memory of Sarah’s texts began to fade from my mind, and I hoped they faded from Elliot’s, too.

After we both returned to the kitchen and piled our plates full again, Elliot laughed as I almost tripped and dumped everything on the floor. His reflexes were quick, reaching out to grab the arm that held my plate, but as I thanked him and moved toward the door again, Elliot didn’t let me go.

I looked at him and he said in a heartbreakingly soft voice, “Thank you.”

“This is what friends do,” I said, looking at him and smiling. “Not all people suck.”

“You don’t suck,” he said.

“Mmm—careful. That could be an insult if we were in a more . . . compromising position,” I said, winking at him and heading out to the table.  

“You don’t take compliments very well,” Elliot noted as he sat down across from me again.

“Well, look at you being all observant. But you’re right. I don’t. I’m sure it’s some deeply rooted, psychological bullshit,” I said as I bit into my hotdog.

“No. You’re just a good person. Humble. Even though you don’t have to be.”

“Is that how you see me, here in my luxury apartment that my daddy mostly pays for?”

“Don’t do that—don’t deflect,” Elliot said, his fork poised above his potato salad. “You always try to negate a compliment by using humor or by bringing up the one thing you can’t change—the one thing that isn’t your fault.”

I was silent, shocked by Elliot’s observation. Every time I thought he was distracted or uninterested, he was listening. And he clearly spent time thinking—about me.

“Use your words, Y/N,” Elliot said, a little grin playing with his lips so I could see he was being a smartass by parroting what I had told him.

“You’re a real shit, Elliot Alderson. Do you know that?”

He shrugged and took a big bite of potato salad.

* * * * *

After we finished dinner and put everything away, I walked over to Elliot’s backpack, picked it up, and brought it over to him.

“I say we smoke and finish the movie because I’m too stuffed to eat a s’more.”

Elliot nodded, opened his backpack, and pulled his box out while I went to the cupboard to grab a tray we could use since my coffee table was made of wood.

I watched as he neatly set everything out on the tray and broke the weed up. I watched his fingers pack the bowl, and when he was finished, he offered to let me hit it first, but I declined.

I watched Elliot take a hit, my eyes drinking in the way his fingers moved and the way his lips closed over the pipe, watching as he pulled the smoke into his lungs to hold it. He waited before exhaling slowly, and then he passed the bowl and lighter to me.

I copied his movements and also took a nice hit—deep enough and long enough to cause Elliot to raise his eyebrows.

I shrugged and handed the bowl back to Elliot as I enjoyed the head rush from my first hit in a long time.

It was good weed, and I sat back and let it take ahold of me, feeling really relaxed for the first time in longer than I’d like to admit.

We slowly smoked the bowl and once it was ready to ash, he turned it over, checked the holes and repacked.

We smoked again, and I felt ridiculously good, ridiculously content. Mostly, I wanted to stare at Elliot because my inhibitions were currently dwelling in a land of incoherence.

I sat facing him while he laid his head back on the couch and looked up at the ceiling. I just couldn’t comprehend how fucking pretty he was. He had taken his hoodie off because it was too warm outside, so he was wearing a black t-shirt. Elliot had pulled on a pair of dark jeans, too, when we were at his apartment. His arms were relaxed at his sides and the bandaged hand closest to me was resting on the couch. For once, Elliot’s body was almost perfectly still.  

I was a calm person from day to day, but when I got high, I was pretty much a caricature of a pothead. I loved everyone and saw nothing but the beauty around me through the most sensuous haze. I wanted to giggle and talk about the cosmos, but things felt different with Elliot.

It took me a long time to piece together what I wanted to say to him.

I scooted closer to Elliot, squinting at him.

“Do you ever wish you could just reach out and stop time. Just like, grab the second hand and make it stop ticking?”

“Is that what you want, Y/N? To stop time right now?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Elliot’s eyes were closed as his head rested on the back of the couch, but when I failed to answer him, he opened his eyes to seek mine out. I hadn’t stopped staring at his face, so his eyes met mine almost immediately.

“Because I really like you,” I breathed. “And if time keeps ticking, those feelings are going to make everything so complicated. I don’t think they’re going to go away and I’m afraid they’re not going to away but I’m also afraid they are going to go away and then I’d hate that and you’ve just got me all fucked up.”

“I really like you, too,” Elliot said, a little giggle bubbling out of his throat as his fingers twitched toward mine. “I think I feel the same fucked up way as you if I correctly followed what you said.”

I watched the movement of his fingers as they crept closer to mine. Our hands were barely a whisper apart, and it felt like there was poetry in that—we were so close, yet still so far.

But I was just too damn high to puzzle out that meaning.

I bypassed touching Elliot’s hand and moved into his lap. He lifted his head off the back of the couch to watch me. I perched closer to his knees, avoiding turning what I wanted to do into something overtly sexual.

I plucked Elliot’s hand off the couch and peeled away the bandages. I lifted his hand to my lips and began kissing his wounds, featherlight, noiseless kisses across each scrape, cut, and bruise. I repeated my kisses on his other hand, all while under Elliot’s watchful, half-lidded gaze. His lips were parted and he occasionally flicked his tongue out to wet them, but he never took his eyes off of me.

I placed a gentle kiss to the palm of each of his hands, enjoying the soft skin before I placed one of Elliot’s hands on my heart and the other on the side of my face. His fingers jumped a little, but I closed my eyes as I pressed my hands into his, his palm flattening out against my chest and my cheek.

“El,” I breathed, lost in the sensation of him, the weed making everything seem so far away yet so close that it was squeezing me from the inside out.

“I like it when you call me that,” Elliot whispered.

I smiled before releasing his hands and leaning forward to wrap my arms around him in a hug.

I felt his hands run across my back and snake underneath my shirt, softly caressing my lower back. I sunk into his ministrations as I clung to his neck and breathed in that citrus scent again.

I pulled back and smiled at him, his face so pretty in the haze of my high, his eyes smaller than usual, but still bigger than anyone else’s I’d ever met.

“Are we friends yet?” I asked.

Elliot seemed to genuinely consider the question before replying, “Yes.”

“Friends,” I said, feeling like I was tasting the word for the first time in my mouth.

Elliot smiled, clearly amused.

“Let’s finish the movie, friend,” he said, still smiling.

“Only if you’ll cuddle with me,” I said, wiggling off of Elliot’s legs.

He huffed, a tiny little laugh as he shrugged his shoulders.

He shifted his position to lay down on the couch, tucking himself into the cushions to make room for me on the outside. His head was propped up on a pillow and he was just slightly angled more on his back than on his side; in other words, he provided the perfect place for me to snuggle in.

I stretched out next him and damn near purred at the feeling of his body against mine. I wiggled back, trying to get as close to him as possible, and I giggled at the absurdity of cuddling on my sofa with Elliot fucking Alderson.

“You’ve gotta stop wiggling,” Elliot mumbled as he breathed in the scent of my hair. “Unless you wanna be more than friends.”

I wiggled into him again before giggling and promising to stop.

“Not yet,” I whispered.

We turned our attention to the movie and eventually dozed off. When I woke up, something way too bright was playing on the TV. I squinted my eyes and sat up, causing Elliot’s eyes to blink open.

I shut the TV off and pulled him off the couch, stopping to grab waters from the fridge before leading him to my bedroom. I shucked off my pants and squirmed out of my bra. Elliot pulled his jeans off and after a moment’s hesitation, his shirt, too.

“I want to snuggle you now,” I said, as I crawled into bed, my words thick with sleep.

Elliot got into bed and faced away from me. I aligned my body with his, and I wrapped my arm around his waist. His wounded hands were healing, their hurt practically forgotten as he pulled my hand tight to his body and secured himself in my grasp.

[foodisjoy]

5 Aralas Fic Recs + 3 bonus stories

So, maybe I rewatched The Lord of the Rings over the holidays, and since then maybe I have proceeded to re-read the novels, all the appendices, and re-watch all the making ofs. Maybe I’ve also taken The Silmarillion out from the library. Who knows.

And maybe I’ve also become Aralas-fanfic-trash, with some Vigorli sprinkled in for good measure. Here are five of my favourite fics. If you find any more amazing fics, please send them my way! Or if you are an Aralas fan as well, I’d love to hear from you!

Aragorn x Legolas

0. A general recommendation: everything by eyebrowofdoom. They are the best! Just go and read, you literally cannot go wrong!

1. This Mortal Joy

by lightsgetin

The ring calls to Aragorn, but not for the reasons he had expected. 

This is, hands down, the best story I have read this year, published novels included. Read it. I don’t care how or why, just go and read it. It is the most moving account of human mortality that I can think of, thrown in all the sharper relief against Legolas’s immortality. “Why would you measure happiness by time, not by happiness itself?” Legolas asks Aragorn. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the shit I am here for with this pairing.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5024

2. Night and Day

by ELD

A meeting with Éomer and the apparent death of Aragorn make both Aragorn and Legolas re-examine their feelings for one another.

While I am not happy with the depiction of Éomer in this, the rest of the fic more than makes up for it. A thoughtful treatment of the relationship between Aragorn and Arwen, a beautiful story about two lovers who finally work up the courage to admit their feelings for each other, jealousy, mortality, as well as some steaming hot sex. What more could you want? I can recommend all fics by this wonderful author!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/727679

3. Healing Hands

by ashgemini

After the battle of Helm's Deep, Legolas searches for Aragorn 

This could also be considered gen. It beautifully illuminates the friendship shared by Aragorn and Legolas, which I cannot get enough of.  For me, these two are the perfect example of lovers who were and still are friends first and foremost (which is why I would be confident that their love could last a lifetime). Besides, I adore stories which offer us a glimpse into the aftermath of the traumatising battles the novels and films sometimes gloss over, and this is a gorgeous short piece set after the Battle of Helm’s Deep and Aragorn’s fraught state of mind.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898080

4. The Lady’s Wisdom

by FloatingLeaf

Lady Galadriel's good advice brings much needed peace upon two troubled hearts.

This is an incredibly sweet fic -- it may be too sweet for some, but I could re-read this practically every day because of how it deals with the Aragorn x Arwen situation. It is such a thoughtful, beautiful, gorgeous, simply makes-sense solution that I am very jealous that I did not think of it myself. For me, this is how love is: not possessive, but generous.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3267029

5. A Little Touch of Aragorn in the Night

by SylvanWitch

Five companions.  Five kinds of comfort.  One man to offer and to accept it.

This may be cheating a little, as it has multiple pairings, but a) Aralas seems to me to be at the heart of it and b) Aragorn has a lot of love to give. For me, this story captures the essence of what Aragorn is. Funny, beautiful, hot, sad, with a happy end -- go and read! Read now!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16795978

Bonus:

Viggo Mortensen x Orlando Bloom

Flash

by zarah5

Taking pictures totally counts as a courtship ritual.

I thought my days of RPS were over, but then I found this fic. Turns out I had to think again: This is so atmospheric, so cleverly characterised, so carefully written, and so wonderfully based in anecdotes from the set that we know about, that it is simply impossible to resist!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/398232

Natural Progression

by zarah5 

Wherein you'll find prissy elves and filthy humans. Or, alternatively: Wherein no one cries, dies, takes drugs, attempts suicide, is raped or injured in a bad car accident.

This is more than a fanfiction. It is an incredibly clever narrative consisting of beautifully interwoven timelines and episodes, again, many inspired from anecdotes from the set. The feelings in it are true, and the way the characters deal with one another is so honestly human it is both elating and heart-breaking. Good thing that there is a happy end!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/398195

The Boy and the Box

by eyebrowofdoom

Viggo is a box that Orlando is not sure if he wants to open, but by God the locked clasp craps him off.

If it were true, this is how it would have been. It also contains the best line in any RPS fic I have ever read of these two, containing the word “punk.” Everything in this feels real and complex, like life is. I love it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/278810

[izupie]

‘Beep Beep Beep’ - Chapter 9 - Tranquility

This is a different kind of chapter, but hopefully you all like the result. I was very pleased with it in the end (it went through many versions and rewrites aaa) 

I can’t believe it’s all nearly over ! This has been such a crazy journey and I am so happy and excited whenever I post a new chapter - thank you all for sticking with me!

((What gratuitous shower scene I have no idea what you’re talking aBoUT))

----

>>>[Izupie’s ko-fi] - your support is hugely appreciated;; <3 <3

>>>[Izupie’s AO3] - please consider checking out my other Izuocha works too?

>>>[AO3 Link to Beep Beep Beep] - If you want to go to the start~

>>>[AO3 Link to the newest chapter] - Here it is! Chapter 9!<<<

----

A persistent buzzing sound woke Izuku up gently. He blinked in confusion and looked over to where it was coming from – a tiny blinking green light on his bedside table revealed his phone was the culprit. Oh, he’d got a message.

He’d turned his phone onto silent mode since the day he’d got it, so he didn’t even know what any of its tones sounded like. It wasn’t like anybody ever contacted him on it except his mom anyway, so he’d never had a problem with leaving it on his bedside table while he slept. He didn’t think it had ever gone off during the night before. It was odd for something like a phone vibration to wake him up though, since he slept so deeply.

Izuku pushed himself upright and reached for his phone.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Izuku jumped and slammed his hand onto his alarm. It had startled him so badly that his phone had slipped right out of his fingers and clattered to the floor between the bed and the table.

His heart was still pounding as he picked up the old clock and checked the cracked display; it read ‘5:00’ in softly glowing red. That explained why his phone had been able to wake him up – his body clock usually got him up around this time anyway, even if there was a rare occasion that he didn’t set an alarm. He let out a small huff as he tried in vain to turn down the volume, but the button for it had broken a long time ago. When it woke him up through sleep it seemed quieter somehow. He tapped the volume button harder, but it still did nothing, so Izuku placed the clock back onto his table in defeat. It had been stuck at maximum for quite a while but hearing its broken volume properly for the first time made him suddenly very conscious of his neighbours. The sound wouldn’t be able to travel that loudly through walls would it?

Izuku ruffled his hair and threw off his duvet.

He really needed a new alarm clock.

Izuku stretched his arms above his head, feeling the satisfying pop of sleep-settled bones in his back and elbows, and absentmindedly rubbed his scarred arm as he glanced guiltily over at his to-do list, catching sight of the reminder to ring his mom. Maybe he’d offer for her to have the clock back instead of throwing it away? She got overly emotionally attached to stuff like that. (Which was why she had a loft filled with an embarrassing amount of boxes of baby photos and old toys.) But that would kind of feel like he was returning her gift, despite it being years old… He supposed there was space on one of his comic book shelves in the living room… It could live there as a memory of moving out to university rather than as an actual functioning clock, since the display was cracked too.

Maybe he’d grown to become overly emotionally attached to stuff too and hadn’t even realised it. His mom had always joked that the only thing he’d inherited from her was her height, but he knew from the sad smile she gave the photo in her purse (when she thought he wasn’t looking) that deep down it didn’t really bother her to think that he was more of his father than her.

Not that he knew much about him.

Izuku splashed cold water onto his face and rubbed it dry vigorously with a towel. Yesterday had been a stressful day, so he was feeling a little more tired than usual. At least getting up on time meant he had plenty of time for his standard morning routine.

He was trying desperately not to think of Ochako, but in trying not to think of her it of course meant she was all he could think about. 

He put on his gym clothes and tried to focus on the workout routine he was going to do; he’d read a great post on Instagram about a training set that would put more focus on his core muscles. It sounded like it was going to be tough, but he relished the challenge. Though he probably wasn’t going to be quite so enthusiastic about it when he was complaining about his aching body to Denki in the ambulance later.

Izuku checked his watch and grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl on his kitchen table while the kettle boiled. It was definitely a coffee morning. The banana was a little browner than he would have liked - since he hadn’t gone shopping in a while and he often neglected to eat the fruit he bought, despite insisting on always keeping the fruit bowl full - but it was the energy that he needed. Still waiting for his old and slow kettle to boil, Izuku opened his cupboard and winced at the baskets of pills and first aid kits he still had stashed away in there. He really needed to sort it all out. Some of that stuff was probably out of date. He picked up a box of vitamin supplements and swallowed a little vitamin tablet down dry. He’d been very prone to accidents and illnesses as a child, and he’d been so scared about dying and leaving his mom all alone that he’d developed anxiety towards his health. When he’d moved out of his mom’s house he’d taken all of his remedies with him, though he’d slowly started needing them less and less.

Nobody ever would have believed he would end up being a paramedic; meek little Izuku who visited the doctor’s every other week with his injuries and maladies. Toshinori was the only one who truly believed that he could do it. Even his own mom had been concerned about how he would deal with surrounding himself with the very thing he’d been falling into his whole life. But that had been part of the reason he’d wanted to do it. In the end it was his own experiences and hard work that had helped him to grow beyond his anxieties and his accident-prone nature, and now Ochako had opened a whole other world of life outside of his work that he was excited to explore too. Friendship and enjoying someone else’s company… preferably hers.

Izuku shook his head to stop that train of thought while he added a touch of cold water to his steaming mug of coffee and downed it all in one go.

He couldn’t wait for her to come back, but he hoped she was doing okay and getting some quality time to heal up, though he was sure her parents would be taking good care of her.

The door locked with a definitive click behind him as he turned the key to his apartment, then he took off at a brisk jog down the corridor.

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

It was only when Izuku finally made it into the ambulance that he remembered his cell phone. Denki was lounging in the passenger seat, cursing and swiping his finger on his own phone.

“C’mon, be a shiny, be a shiny. Damn- it’s not shiny. Gonna catch you anyway for leading me on- Hey, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost bro.” Denki continued to swipe virtual pokéballs across the screen on Pokémon Go, not even appearing to look up as Izuku settled into the driver’s seat. (It was his turn to drive.)

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” he sighed, “I just saw your phone and remembered that I got a message on mine this morning, but I dropped it before I could check it. So it’s currently still sandwiched somewhere between my bed and the bedside table.”

Denki hissed between his teeth. “Man, I’d be losing my mind if that was me. I didn’t think you’d be that bothered though, don’t you leave it in your locker while we’re on shift anyway?”

“Yeah, but what if someone needed me! And I’m sitting here with no idea. I should have checked it,” Izuku lamented, placing his forehead on the steering wheel. What if it had been Ochako?

“What if it was your girlfriend?” Denki finally looked up from his phone, somehow echoing Izuku’s thoughts.

“Sh-She’s not my-” Izuku jolted upright and waved his hands in a fluster but stopped as he saw the grin on his friend’s face. “Evil,” he mumbled with narrowed eyes.

Denki laughed. “Ah, you’re too easy, bro. I should feel bad ‘cause you’re such an easy target.”

Izuku put his forehead back onto the steering wheel with a tiny thud. “Thanks.”

Denki laughed louder and patted Izuku’s shoulder playfully, then leant back in his chair and folded his arms. His voice was uncharacteristically serious when he said, “Dude. Listen to me. I know all about relationships and-”

“I thought you’d never actually been in a relationship?” Izuku pointed out from the steering wheel.

“Fu- that’s- hey, that’s literally not even important to the point I’m making, okay. I could have had a relationship before now. I’m not afraid of flying solo, so I’m just biding my time until someone meets my crazy high standards.” Denki pouted. “Anyway, I’m trying to have like. A moment here. Bro to bro. So…”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Go on, I’m listening.” Izuku could barely hide the amusement out of his voice. He smiled as he sat back up to give his friend his full attention.

Denki cleared his throat a little. “Look, it’s simple - you just need to ask her out.”

“I’ve been trying to,” Izuku groaned wearily. That’s his big advice?

“Well try harder!” Denki gripped a fist in front of him in a battle pose.

Izuku was about to protest that he’d been trying as hard as he could, but he blinked and thought about it instead. Had he been trying his hardest? At any point he could have asked her out if he’d really gone for it. The times they’d been interrupted, or something had disconnected their schedules… He could have forged ahead and found a way around any obstacle if he’d really put his mind to it. That’s what he was good at. He thought of the flowers currently sitting in a saucepan of water on his kitchen table (on account of him not owning any vases). Try harder… That had been a step in the right direction but… It was such simple advice, but maybe Denki was right…

Ochako could have died that day…

The realisation hit him; it was time to be bold.

Denki must have seen that he was seriously considering what he had said because he continued in a smug voice, “See? I know what I’m talking about. From what you’ve told me about her, it sounds like she’s totally into you. Next time you see her you’ve got to go for it man, seize the day, go big or go home!”

“That’s actually... Wow, um, thanks for the advice Denki.” Izuku scratched the back of his neck, affection lighting up his smile. He spent so much time working with Denki that he forgot that they’d already built up a strong bond, just from how much they had to rely on each other and work so closely together. He was a jokester and didn’t take himself or life too seriously, but he was a loyal friend. It made Izuku even more determined to invite his friends to do fun things outside of work.

“You two will be one of those really grossly adorable couples,” Denki added, pulling a face.

Izuku gasped and playfully tapped him on the arm, pretending it was a punch. “Hey!”

Denki grinned and swatted his hand away. “Too easy.”

Usually a call came in while they were taking over from the night shift crew and getting settled into the ambulance, but today the radio was silent. Between incidents they would drive around the local area, ready to attend anything if they were contacted, so Izuku put the vehicle into gear, pulled away from the hospital and followed a familiar route around the city. Denki occasionally got his phone out of his pocket and cursed and muttered about shiny Pokémon.

Izuku could feel the anticipation of getting to his own phone like a background buzz through his mind as he drove. It had been days since he’d been able to work without something on his mind. Ever since he’d met Ochako…

He guessed he needed to prepare for the next seven days being like this. Hopefully they’d be able to stay in touch and it wouldn’t seem that bad.

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

By the time Izuku dragged himself back through his front door they’d attended a vast array of different calls and incidents. He shrugged off his coat and threw it onto the kitchen table, beside the saucepan holding the bouquet of flowers, ruminating on the most notable calls they’d attended as he shuffled into his shower. There was a young woman who’d broken her arm in a horse riding accident, an old couple with scrapes and bruises after a minor car crash, a lucky young boy with some bruises that had fallen out of a tree and terrified his parents, and a middle-aged man who’d had a cardiac arrest at work. Denki had successfully shocked the man’s heart back into a rhythm with the defibrillator, but it had been a stressful call, and had kept them busy long after their shift had supposed to end.

Attending patients like that made Izuku glad that he chose the career he did. Without the two of them that man would certainly have died – cardiac arrest was as bad as it got. But he was safely in the hospital and things were looking positive for him, so Izuku wanted to check on him tomorrow and see how he was doing. It felt good to be able to do that without fear of Kacchan catching him checking in on the patients and yelling at him. The air between them was clearer now, though he suspected Kacchan would never be friendly and pleasant, but that was okay – it’s just the way he is.

Izuku gratefully stood under the shower’s hot spray and sighed. His days were long and hard, but he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. The water soothed his tired muscles and washed away the sweat of a good day’s work, so for a little while he simply stood and let the water run in hot rivers over his skin. He rubbed his scarred arm gently and flexed it up and down, working out the stiffness and aches.

Once he’d rubbed his hair vigorously with a towel and put on a sleeping shirt and some sweatpants, he made his way back into the kitchen, flopped onto a chair, and laid his head on his arms. Not only had it been a busy day, but the new workout he’d tried meant that nearly every muscle was aching, so it would be amazing to eat some quick food and climb into bed-

My phone!

Izuku leaped up from his seat so fast that his chair screeched and fell backwards with a clatter, and he ran to the bedroom, almost sliding to his knees on the carpet in his haste to get down to the floor. His hand groped in the narrow gap between his bed and the small bedside table and he crinkled his nose a little at the feeling of all the dust on the carpet, knowing he hadn’t ever put the hoover down there the whole time he’d lived in the apartment. Finally, he felt his pulse quicken as his fingers closed on something solid.

Izuku pulled it out with a triumphant sound and unlocked the screen. His eyes widened. Eleven new messages. That was more messages than he got in a whole month.

They were all from Ochako.

<Hey Izuku! Just wanted to let you know I’m feeling much better (-^v^-) I think I had too much sleep in the hospital though, I’ve woken up naturally at 5am and I can’t get back to sleep lol>

<I know you always get up at 5 though so I thought I’d say good morning too!>

<Oh the reception here is reallyyyy baaaaad so I can only get a signal when I’m standing at a crazy angle in the bath tub (don’t ask how I found this out) so I can’t get your messages or reply to them very easy (T_T) unless I spend my whole week standing in the bath….. hm…. tempting….…>

<OMG I just remembered the clock in my old room is 10 mins too fast!! I really hope this didn’t wake you up!!! Sorry!!!>

<I guess you’re busy today with work – hope it’s not too bad for you! I’ve been alternating the last few hours between being made to relax on the couch and being sent into the garden for some fresh air. My mom’s favourite cure for like *everything* is Fresh Air,, she says it’s why she’s always ‘healthy as a horse’ lol.>

<My parents are off for the next few days then they’ll be going back to work. I’m hoping to spend some time with my friend Iida when they go back, since he only works until mid-afternoon each day. It’ll be really fun to spend some time with him again! I haven’t told my mom yet but I’m probably going to go and work with her on some of the days next week too. She works on a farm just outside of town, so hopefully I can take a picture of some of the animals and I’ll show you when I get back? I can’t believe my dad still hasn’t got wifi for the house!! And mobile internet around here isn’t even good enough to send you a photo (rip me)>

<Mmmm, just had some home-made stew, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much you would have loved it!! (>v<) I hope you’re not working too hard Deku! And please eat something filling and wholesome if you are! (I know I know it’s like the pot calling the kettle black) (omg my mom’s terrible small town phrases are rubbing off on me and I’ve only been here one day,,,) (I’ll come back into the city and you won’t be able to understand me!!) Also I finally convinced my mom to stop sending me into the garden now the sun’s going down. I told her I’m feeling better but if I stay out there in the cold too long I’ll just get dick again>

<*SICK>

<I meant SICK!!>

<omg autocorrect nooooo !!!>

<You must have had a really busy day :( :( Just gonna look at my parent’s holiday photos (which’ll make me feel bad that they came home early because of me…) and then go to bed. Hopefully I’ll be able to catch you tomorrow! X>

Izuku hadn’t been able to stop smiling the whole time he’d read through her messages. He could almost hear her voice while he read them.

It made him sad to think that she hadn’t had a reply from him all day.

He looked at the timestamp on the last message and realised she’d sent it half an hour ago, so chances were she’d still be awake. She’d said she can only receive and send messages when she was in the bathroom, so it’s not like she’d get it until tomorrow anyway, but he’d still send it, he decided, tapping on the screen.

<Hi Ochako! Really sorry I haven’t been able to reply to your messages. I dropped my phone down the side of my bed this morning! (Long story but I need a new alarm clock) I forgot to grab it before I left today and I’ve only just seen what you sent me. I’m so so glad you’re feeling better! I bet you can’t wait for the stitches to come out now. I remember how much I hated them. Shouto is a wizard at removing stitches, it’s a shame you’re not having them removed here, I could have asked him for a favour!>

<Please take lots of photos! :) It would be so cool to see where you grew up. Working on a farm sounds like fun but I bet it’s loads of hard work?? And definitely have lots of fun with your friend, he’s the one you said you used to watch the superhero movies with right? Pretty sure you mentioned him back when we first met? Wow, that feels like such a long time ago now! (me remembering that doesn’t seem creepy right?) (me bringing up that it might be creepy makes it creepy doesn’t it??) Relax and heal up, I’m sure we’ll get to talk soon x>

<P.S. excellent autocorrect fail!! X>

Izuku huffed out a little laugh as he tapped send on his final message and smiled tenderly at his phone. A knotted, concerned feeling lifted from him; knowing that she was going to be having a nice week away was both comforting and sad.

He missed her.

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

<Hey Izuku! I had a bit of a lazy start to this morning, since my extra sleep finally sorted itself out, so I know you’ll be at work by now but I hope you have a nice rest of your day! X>

<Hey Ochako! Thanks for your message, hope your day has been good so far too. Just having lunch back in the break room at the hospital for once. Usually Denki convinces me to have a McDonalds in the ambulance, but I wanted to send you a message, so we’ve come back so I can grab my phone out of my locker and I made him have a cup of instant noodles with me. That’s a little bit healthier right?? Haha x>

<Ah! Sorry I just got your message, I was having lunch out with my parents! There’s this amaaazing little restaurant near the farm my mom works at, and they use all the produce from it. I swear you can taste the Freshness ! It’s literally a signal black zone though. Oh! There’s this really cute wishing well that they’ve built into the restaurant so I threw a coin in it and made a wish (can’t tell you what it was though or it won’t come true!!) but I did take a good selfie with it that I’ll probably make my profile picture as soon as I return to the land of reliable internet x>

<Hope you enjoyed your noodles, definitely better than a burger, but did it taste as good ? I’m not going to tell you what I had – it might make you too jealous! X>

<Late reply but Wow, wishing well restaurant sounds cool. I hope your wish comes true. Don’t tell me what you ate, I’ll definitely get jealous! Another microwave dinner for me tonight. 12 hour shift ran over again and I’m so tired I think I’m just going to eat and crawl into bed. Hopefully we’ll be able to catch each other tomorrow? Night night x>

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

<Hey Izuku! You’ll already be at work when you get this again (T_T) by the time I saw your message last night it had already been a couple of hours and I didn’t want to send you something and maybe wake you up :( :( I can’t believe we keep missing each other like this! I’m not busy later so I’ll spend a while going and checking my phone (I think my mom is getting worried by the amount of times I keep disappearing into the bathroom lmao) x>

<omg noooo, change of plan! There’s a projector being set up in the town hall tonight and they’re going to show some old clips from the school plays through the years – me and my old school friends will be in them! I’ll get to see Iida there too!  Sorry Izuku!! X>

<Don’t worry! Hope you’re having fun looking at some old memories! We finished on time today so me and Denki are having an after work coffee at a café you might know well… Your friend Mina was there and she said to tell you that she’s having to cover some of your evening shifts so you owe her, but she also said to tell you that she loves you and misses you. She’s so funny – and so full of energy! Hopefully I’ll get to see you there too one day?? X>

<Aaaaa! I can’t believe you went to Uravity! Please tell me that Mina didn’t tell you all the embarrassing stories she has of me! (>A<;) If she did, they’re all lies!! (I’m glad you can’t see me now actually, I’m sitting on top of Iida’s shoulders in the parking lot of the town hall – it’s the only place signal gets through here!) (again, don’t ask how we found out.) x>

<I’m dying over that image, and I don’t even know what your friend looks like! I loved it at Uravity, the stars and planets and stuff are really pretty. I can see why you like it. I’ve never even seen you there, but just the aesthetic and being there reminded me so much of you :( xx>

<When Mina’s boyfriend came to pick her up, she sent him over to us to wait while she got ready and he’s a really cool guy! I recognised him from the gym sometimes, though we’ve never spoken, so that was really funny. Him and Denki got on like a house on fire! Next time I go to the gym and see him there I’ll say hi, and maybe we can go back to Uravity again the three of us sometime. I’ll see if Shouto wants to come next time too! Ah, sorry, rambling – anyway, hopefully we can actually chat tomorrow??! Goodnight Xx>

<A bit late but I’m so pleased for you Izuku! Eijiro is super cool, you’ll like him a lot. I’d love it if you two could be friends! (^v^) I told Iida about you and about how we met and it made me miss you too. Night xxx>

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

<Day off today :) having a long overdue visit to my mom’s. I decided to turn up as a surprise and when she opened the door I gave her a bunch of flowers and she burst into tears haha it was cute. Made me feel bad that I haven’t been in touch with her as often as I should. But she cries really easily anyway so it wasn’t that surprising. (It’s where I get it from...) Have a good day - I really hope we can synch up schedules and chat properly later! Xx>

<Sorry I haven’t been in touch today Izuku! I got my stitches out! I was kind of excited because I can usually get some signal at the doctor’s surgery, but I forgot to charge my phone last night and it died on the way there. Noooo! RIP. Good news though: stitches came out fine. Doctor said I might get a little scar on my head, but it might heal over time completely instead. Guess I’ll wait and see?? Hope you had a nice day with your mom - me and parents went for a walk in the park after my appointment so that was nice <3 Cold though! Glad I had my scarf on. And yes! Definitely! I hope so too xx>

<Izuku? Are you free? Xx>

<??? Xx>

<Ochako I am so so sorry! I just got your messages! How are we doing this?! I’m at the hospital - I’ve been called in to cover a night shift at the last minute and it’s for a good friend so I really couldn’t say no. Shino was one of the paramedics who helped you that morning and her daughter isn’t very well so she’s taking a few days off to look after her - I said I’d cover for her :( It means I’ll be sleeping tomorrow for my night shift tomorrow night, so I won’t be able to message you. I’m going to switch my phone off now though, so please keep sending me messages and I’ll have a read of them after I get up tomorrow night before my shift. It’ll make me smile before I start! :) Sorry again, this is such bad timing huh? Xxx>

<Sorry, just saw your reply! Ah no don’t worry! It’s ok! Night shift sounds rough! Please get some good rest tomorrow! You’re so kind Izuku, ready to jump in at the last minute to help out a friend. It’s not long until I get to come home anyway, so we’ll see each other then for sure! Can’t wait xxx>

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

<Another cold and dark morning here. I hope your shift wasn’t too bad! Got up with my mom this morning and went with her to work. Oh boy. It was wayyy too early to be working that hard oof. The animals never do what you want them to do... The owners of the farm are this sweet old couple though and they usually give my mom lunch every day so they did one for me too - bread slices nearly as thick as my arm(!) huge wedge of cheese inside and some kind of homemade pickle? It was super tasty xxx>

<It’s been nice to be looked after by my parents again for a little while but I’m ready to come back home now. It’s been nice to have a bit of tranquillity, since I’m always so busy and I don’t really make enough time to enjoy the little things - but I’m working on it, something you inspired in me xxx>

<I’m missing friends and I actually really miss my job. Every morning my dad makes himself a coffee so by the time I get into the kitchen there’s this lingering coffee smell and it makes me nostalgic xxx>

<I got to briefly ring Mina today (still standing in the bath) and the signal was a bit crackly but it was nice to hear her voice again! She said it’s been a mixture of herself and the new boy Kurai who’ve been covering my shifts, so I feel kind of bad that I’ve put them both to so much trouble (he’s a student though so I expect he was glad of the overtime too) xxx>

<Ok. I told my parents I’m going home tomorrow. I’ve enjoyed it but I really want to get back - so I’m hopping on a train tomorrow afternoon. Should be back in the city about 7.30ish? I could get a taxi from the station, but they’re so overpriced, so I’ll get the bus to the apartment - which means I’ll be getting home about 8 ! (^o^) I know that your night shift starts around then so we won’t be able to see each other, but I’ve still got a few days off work for my sicknote, so I’ll be in all day the day after! Xxx>

<Please knock on my door when you get back in the morning if you’re not too tired!! I’ll be happy to see you whatever time it is xxx>

<Hey Ochako, just about to head out for work and I can’t stop smiling - your messages really did cheer me up before my shift! I’m so excited to see you and talk to you properly finally. You can tell me all about your hometown! And your parents! And your friends! I’m so sad I’m working tomorrow night, I wish I could see you straight away, but I’ll be sure to come see you the morning after - no matter how tired I am xxx>

<Xxx>

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

<Train feels extra long today. I think it’s because I can’t wait to get back! Nearly home! Xxx>

<On your way though! Xxx>

<Wait,, omg are you there??? X>

<I am! Are you?! X>

<I AM! Ahh I can’t believe we’re finally messaging at the same time!! (T_T) <3 xxx>

<It’s so good to talk to you in real time! Xxx>

<This is Amazing! I literally just screeched at my phone and there’s a lady looking at me strangely lmao!! X>

<I’m just getting ready for work, I’m having ‘breakfast’ haha x>

<Hope it’s nice then! I brought some snacks with me but it’s getting really hard to resist the lady that comes down the train with the snack trolley... I might have to get a coffee... X>

<I’m not going to encourage anything but you should totally get the coffee xxx>

<That’s completely encouraging me!! xxx>

<Man, it sucks that we’re going to just miss each other :( xxx>

<I knowwww ! But we’ve already planned tomorrow and I will fight the universe itself if it puts anything else in our way xxx>

<No way, tomorrow will be perfect - no crazy interruptions, no accidents, I promise xxx>

<Oh, got to go! It’s pulling into the station! Xxx>

<No problem, see you tomorrow! Have a good night xxx>

<So I just got back, wow that whole journey was long,,, Hope you have a good shift, I’ll see you tomorrow morning (finally!) can’t wait xxx>

----

>>>>[Read on AO3]<<<<

[cards-onthetable]

An Elusive Computer Post

Y’all, 99.999% of the time, I exist on my phone and tablet. It’s very rare that I do any Fandom Stuff or social media on my laptop. But tonight, after This Episode, I had to break out the big guns. I need to be able to type as fast as my brain screams words. tl;dr: EVERYTHING IS THE WORST AND I HATE IT. Hey I’ll do a fun little page break so you don’t have to scroll past this whole thing if you don’t want to. How nice of me. 

Erin

OPENING SCENE AND ERIN’S ALREADY YELLING AT PEOPLE. COOL. 

JUST DON’T with this foster parent (allegedly) killing a foster child thing. Foster parents have enough of a negative perception as it is... a foster parent who “cracked” and killed a child in her care certainly won’t help. And I know this won’t turn into a well-done, thoughtful Discourse on the lack of support and resources for foster parents who are caring for children with complex needs. So I hate it. 

I’m so, so, so sad for this child.

Sidenote re: Sam saying “I’ve already got a mom” (explaining why he didn’t call his foster parent “mom”) - okay, BB, one actual sensitive portrayal here, thumbs up. 

Welp Erin’s boss is an asshole but so’s everyone else on this show. What else is new? 

And now Sam is locked out of his new foster home. Another nice tally in the Negative Portrayal column. This is disgusting. His appreciation for his previous foster parent is obvious (this kid’s a ten times better actor than fucking Will “Dead Face” Estes at this point) and I hate this entire concept. At least the show’s portrayal of the child in foster care himself is positive. 

Now Sam’s at Anthony’s house and this is off topic, but for half a second can we appreciate that Sam is also a bajillion times better at apologies than Jamie Reagan? Nice. 

If Anthony becomes Sam’s foster parent I will be SO ANNOYED. One, because I’m sure the show won’t even hint at an accurate process - it’ll be insta-parent, Anthony walks into some caseworker’s office and walks out with physical custody of a child (fun fact: it takes three months or longer to get licensed as a foster parent). Two, because it’s kind of another blow to the reputation of foster parents that this episode is painting - like the only suitable foster parent in a whole city of veteran, trained, experienced FPs is this newbie? This does not taste good. 

This is a cute scene. Rather than Anthony being Sam’s foster parent, how about he becomes his mentor? 

OH. NICE. EXACTLY WHAT I DIDN’T WANT. “I’m going to sign the papers later today. I’m going to foster Sam myself.” Can we please get some follow-up on this, BB? Let’s please see Anthony trying to navigate the waters of parenting a teenager who likely has attachment-related diagnoses and other challenges. Is Anthony going to get trauma-informed care training? Or is he just going to wing it and hope that it’s all magical and swell? Does he have a sensitive, non-snarky bone in his body? I’m on the edge of my seat. (LOL @ Erin being the voice of reason here.)

OH. WHOA WHOA WHOA. “It’s not like I always wanted a son, but one came knocking and I answered the door.” Remember that line above where Sam reminded us that he has a mom? Do you understand why this line made me gag? There’s a fine line you walk as a foster parent, where you’re performing all the duties of parenting this child as if they’re your own - but you have to remember and be sensitive to the fact that they’re not. Kids in foster care are a package deal, yo, they come with a whole other family too. For teenagers this is an especially important Issue. 

This entire storyline was terrible. 0/10. 

Fat Shaming (Frank and co)

Poor Witten, you guys. That is awful and terrible and dangerous that her partner can’t even make it up 4 flights of stairs. “I’m here and you’re fine” - but what if she wasn’t? 

Did Sid Gormley just use the word “fat shaming” and argue that physical fitness does not affect a cop’s ability to do their job? 

Cops who are on the beat should be able to pass a fairly high standard for physical fitness. The end, basically.

Family dinner (tossed in here due to the topic of conversation): Seriously? Henry’s going to talk about it being discrimination to require cops to meet a physical fitness standard that is a pretty basic aspect of their ability to do their job? Nice. 

Oh, magical, Frank has come up with a Compromise that Makes Everybody Happy. Raise your hand if you’re surprised. 

Danny

TBH I hardly noticed this storyline at all. I’m much too busy angrily scribbling all of the examples of Dismissive Jamie on my whiteboard. Oh well, win some lose some. 

Jamko

The way Jamie brushes Eddie off during this whole New Partner Discussion is gross. Refer to yesterday’s Two Pronged Complaint for the details. 

The Biggest Issues: Jamie minimizing Eddie’s experience on the job, and being too protective of her/failing to be an objective boss. Et cetera. 

“wHaT eLsE dOn’T I kNoW?” suck a dick, Jamie Reagan.  

Peep those obviously empty coffee cups that probably have a piece of dry ice at the bottom to make the “steam.” A+. 

I’m going to keep track of how many times “female empowerment” is said in this episode. I’ll keep you updated. 

So this “fraternal organization” that we’ve all been so stressed about Eddie joining is...basically a women’s intramural sports league? LOLOL so I’m super excited to watch Jamie sputter about how Joe died playing softball* and therefore Eddie shouldn’t join. 

LOOK AT EDDIE. She is legitimately excited about the idea of playing softball, dude. That smile is as much personality as we’ve gotten out of her all season. CAN’T WAIT TO WATCH JAMIE “WET BLANKET” REAGAN SNUFF THAT RIGHT OUT. 

This ~date night~ situation is hilarious in a Young Childless Couple way. 

OH, so NOW Jamie’s interested in a legitimate conversation with Eddie, engaged and responding... with questions in a demanding, rude tone? I’m so annoyed at his whole handling of the Eddie’s-new-partner thing.

GOD why is everything a Female Empowerment Thing? Can’t women just... enjoy playing sports? 

OH HERE’S WHERE IT GETS FUN HOLD ONTO YOUR BUTTS 

BAD IDEA

YOU’RE ABOUT TO BECOME A REAGAN

THAT’S A NO-GO

NOW YOU’RE JUST BEING STUBBORN

“No, I’m being astonished that my fiancé is trying to tell me what I can and cannot do” SAME, EDDIE 

I’m so angry that the scene cuts off there. Did they just go about their stupid dinner date with this Tension floating palpably in the air between them? Did Eddie pull out an “I think I’ll sleep at my place tonight” and stalk away in that red? satin? dress? ? I hope she poured his stupid ON TAP IPA (objectively the worst type of beer, btw) down his shirt and walked out. 

I AM SO SAD watching this scene of Eddie backing out of softball. 

“I’m not much of a joiner” is a DUMB RIDICULOUS LINE and Eddie says it TWICE, folks. 

Witten doesn’t bring up Jamie at all - I therefore assume she doesn’t know Eddie’s a Future Reagan (which is a whole other issue, but anyway.) . Witten thinks Eddie’s backing out so as to avoid associating with Witten. So I assume Witten’s intentions with the softball invite were totally pure. IMAGINE THAT! A woman who wants to be friends with another woman, one who she works with and respects and wants to get to know better! With no ulterior motive! Someone please hit Jamie Reagan in the nostril with a dart. 

I like Witten more and more. Can we replace all the Reagan storylines with Witten, Sam, and Old Eddie in dark jeans and a studded jacket?

A LAUNDROMAT? ONE: Shouldn’t Jamie, as A Reagan, have laundry in his building?* TWO: It he didn’t, why wouldn’t they do laundry for free at Frank’s house every week?*

I CAN SMELL THE TENSION and I am legitimately curious how they’ve coexisted between the date and now. How’s that working out, hmm - that “keeping work and home separate” thing? 

“I DIDN’T TELL YOU TO, I ASKED” says Jamie. Shall we go back a few bullet points to when he told her it’s a “no-go”? 

I NEED TO KNOW WHAT ELSE I NEED TO KNOW - Same, Eddie. Do I really need to reiterate how ridiculous this whole thing is - that they’re engaged without dating, and now finding out that maybe there’s a reason people date first, even if they’re best friends, because this is the kind of stuff you work out before you start shopping for your dress.

“Are we talking, or are we just talking smack?” SOME ACCUSATION from the dumbass who said ALL THE THINGS IN THOSE BULLETS UP ABOVE. 

Finally, for once, Eddie is voicing some real and legitimate concerns. Are we going to get any sort of resolution or mature adult discussion of these things? NOPE! 

Did he seriously just tell her to cut it out? I hate him so much. I hope somebody duct tapes him to the front of those washer/dryers and pulls out each individual eyebrow hair with tweezers. 

This laundromat scene just exemplifies so many of the issues I’ve been rage blogging about all damn season. Jamie ultimately brushing off Eddie’s concerns without ever giving her real answers. Not having the respect for her to even take her thoughts into account. Barking orders like he knows it all, and Eddie isn’t capable of making her own decisions. At least this time that’s the actual point of the scene rather than the nasty subtext. 

EDDIE AND DANNY SCENE: I’m actually surprised that this is the first time Joe has been mentioned. Watching the sneak peek I figured Jamie’s main argument against Eddie joining an organization would be that it’s what got his brother killed (being vague, obviously, since Eddie clearly didn’t know the details). Not that it’s improper As A Reagan. I hoped the context of the episode would make me feel a little better about this scene but it just feels even more out of place and poorly/choppily written. I like Eddie and Danny together - I’d like them to interact more. But this didn’t do it for me. Gotta meet that Joe Mention Quota* on the season, I guess. 

FINAL SCENE: in summary, FUCK THIS. 

Sidenote: When is someone going to get suspicious @ how often Eddie gets pulled into Sarge’s office? 

For the record, I anticipated an eye-rolly “Ohhkay, maybe I overreacted...” speech. 

WHAT WE GOT FELL BELOW EVEN THAT VERY LOW BAR. 

Jamie explains himself. Fine, he has a right to do that, and it’s constructive in helping Eddie understand the man she’s about to marry (god don’t even remind me). BUT HE DOES NOT ADMIT ANY WRONGDOING. 

THERE IS NO APOLOGY

THERE IS NO ADMISSION THAT HE MADE MISTAKES in how he spoke to her, ordered her around, and didn’t even stop for eight seconds to listen to what she had to say

THERE IS NOT EVEN THE VERY MINIMAL “I overreacted” type of acknowledgment. 

“So maybe if I forget sometimes, you can remind me” THIS IS GROSS TOO because it essentially puts the burden on Eddie to teach/remind Jamie how to HAVE AN ADULT CONVERSATION AND NOT BE AN ASS. He could AT LEAST take responsibility for his own improvement in the Future. 

Eddie said literally two words in this entire scene. There was no mutual understanding, no real agreement, no genuine Development in their relationship. 

THIS IS NOT A SATISFACTORY RESOLUTION TO THIS CONFLICT. 

This episode is called Rectify but NOTHING HAS BEEN RECTIFIED. 

ALSO, this seems like an awfully Personal conversation to be having in uniform, Sarge. Are they even trying anymore? 

HE JUST THREW A SOFTBALL GLOVE AT HER. Is that supposed to be... sweet? Touching? An admission of guilt/mistake/wrongdoing? TRY AGAIN, BB. NONE OF THE ABOVE. 

WELL. If you’ve made it this far, I hope you’re as disgruntled as I am. Seems like plenty of y’all were quite unhappy with this episode as well. I’m enjoying your tweets and sadness. I’ve been the queen of this club for almost a year now. Welcome, make yourselves comfortable, there’s plenty of ice cream in the freezer. Just don’t sit on the far end of the couch. That’s my dog’s favorite spot. 

*These four hilarious lines were taken from two important Outside Sources. Thanks for your contribution, Outside Sources. 

[dis-pose-able-blog]

Blue moon- vmin

Note: So hi? I was listening to 4 o'clock and well remembered that it was written based off of Jimin and then I like properly appreciated the lyrics once again because is a beautiful song and well I was like hey, why not write a one-shot based off of it... so I did and I ended up enjoying what I'd written (kind of) and well I wanted to publish it but it's a one-shot and I have no idea where to do so bc I'm too lazy to make a one-shot book :")

anywhore.... here's my one-shot based off of 4 o'clock and spring day! It's unrevised and fresh from my mind's womb! Enjoy!

-- -- -- --

I took a deep breath as the cold clawed its way throughout my body, and released it with the faintest rolling of steam slipping past my lips; the time I was unsure of though the moon was up yet I seemed to be the only soul risen with it.

My fingers numbed with the moonlight breeze, though that letter I wrote so long ago now was still firmly gripped between my fingers, it was for someone - someone I no longer have, I planned to read it to them though missed my chance and I've simply written a long, long letter to the moon. It was merely a corrupted file now for the mood could never equal that whom it was intended for - he shone brighter than the moon; everyone saw that but himself and I vaguely remember him whispering, on one of the last occasions in meeting him, that he was 'nothing more than a small lit candle in a life full of chandeliers' and I felt my face contort in almost anger yet the molten tear that radiated down my cheek, freezing my heart even more, told me all I felt was nothing but sadness toward the boy who'd sold his soul to the moon.

With a gruff weakness I wiped away the tears from my face and stood, allowing my feet to wander; my mind seeming to become confused between itself and the appendages for it began to wonder, tripping up and landing upon a desert - its once beautiful seas draining out through my eyes, washing a mirage of an oasis of happiness upon it whenever someone asks "how are you holding up?" with that condescending rub of the arm and a head tilt with that stupid tone of voice - I hate it!

I was so caught up in my thoughts, the brewing sand-storm halting at the sound of a song. Was it a bird song? That sound? Just simply a nameless bird calling out into the dark? Crying for its baby to fly back into the safe embrace of its delicately crafted fortress of a nest? Or was it you? Was it that voice I'd heard once upon a dream? Could it possibly that voice that brings a red-hot desire to see you once more each step I take this?

I found myself taking another step, one after another - I was running toward that voice, for it was more than just a nameless bird singing; so I followed it into the deep, into the ocean of darkness.

One step, another step. My grip tightening around the paper, the cold numbing being but something I ignored for I longed to see your brightness once again and I found myself stumbling into a park - one from when we were younger, happier... or were you never truly happy?

The sweet melody of your voice took me deeper into the darkness though I still couldn't find you. "Where are you?" My voice cracked and crumbled into the ground beneath my feet. "You?" My heart lurched and fluttered, I was pretty sure for a moment that repetitive thumping of it came to a complete halt upon the sight of you before me, swinging backwards and forwards shaded by the blue of moonlight, humming to yourself a tune of your own and it carried out into the night as if you were a siren calling sailors to their peril.

He's still as ethereal as ever, if not even more so- the way the light cascaded down upon him, he possessed none of his usual traits, however. His tan skin had been bleached into a radiant blue-white and his deep rose lips had been kissed with hues of navy and his once black hair had been stripped into a tincture of chalk white and there was something empty about his once full eyes - he was before me and yet something in him was lost.

"Why are you crying?" he turned to me and asked, though the oceans in his shaded eyes made me wonder too why he was crying - he'd gotten his wish and left. He did this; ran off and followed the stories of children of the moon; like Wendy, Peter and Micheal flying off to Neverland... except for this time he can't fly back. The window had been shut. Locked. Bricked up and he did it to himself.

I shook my head with a frown, running to his now standing figure, embracing him the comforting smell I'd begged my nose to remember hitting me in a strong wave, the welcoming arms and once warm, now cold, cage he'd delicately caught me in causing my heart to burn and shake and my eyes to drain the last of the oceans of my mind and I sobbed into his neck and he into mine.

"Why do you cry?" He repeated through sobs. "You and I are the only ones here - like it used to be - like you wanted! Me and you! So why do you cry?" his muffled cry of pain vibrated against my skin as my breath tried to catch up with me.

"You've been gone too long, Jimin! You left me! I loved you and you left me!" I screamed back, our voices creating a chorus of agony "You left us! I - we needed you and you left!" I tried to collect my shattered self, though the dim moonlight hindered me from putting the house of cards back together.

It remained quiet on his part, words seemingly caught in his throat as I choked out the words I'd been wanting to tell him since the day he left, I shoved the letter into his chest "read it when you miss us" I muttered, seated on another bench, though I hadn't realised we'd moved, I found myself leaning down and resting my head upon his lap, stray tears seeping out of my eyes as his fingers carded through my hair, that tune from earlier arising in his throat, a self-made backing track accompanying his words.

"Tae, I loved you, I did - do, even... Blaming yourself... don't do that. I had my reasons but you were not one of them i -"

"So what were they, Jimin?" I interjected, earning a flick to the forehead.

"Don't interrupt me, I'm older than you remember" we both half chuckled, a bittersweet exchange, however, it was refreshing - hearing his laugh for the first time, in person, after almost two years was beautiful. It was the only sound I could never get tired of and was something I never wanted him to stop doing. "Some things are best left unsaid, I had reasons and only I am to blame for my actions, don't let your heart freeze over, it's far too beautiful for that."

"So was yours and yet... you destroyed it. You did this, Jimin alas other people were also to hold accountable! You can't always blame yourself for the things that go wrong" I sighed, playing with the hand he'd rested upon my stomach "you put so much pressure upon yourself - destroy your mind with a self-made poison and it does nothing but brew trouble! You think I didn't notice how certain comments affected you, you think I didn't understand - that I'd reject you if you told me everything you felt, you thought that by putting on a brave facade that those thoughts, comments, judgments were hidden... well, they weren't! Not from me anyway! I knew it all! I should've helped you!" I gritted out through my teeth, looking up at him and sighing when I saw that lopsided half smiled he'd do and my eyes watered yet again, my mouth opening to speak yet again, though he silenced me with a small kiss - a tiny peck, a gesture that was reassuring yes though it seemed alien it'd been that long; my heart abducted and replaced with butterflies and fireworks just like it had the first time we kissed. He began to stroke my head again, causing me to shut my eyes and bask in the beauty and comfort brought to me under the blue the light of the moon shaded me with.

"I miss you." He started, his voice soft and broken "I didn't want to hurt you but I did, I came to apologise - to ease the pain, I came to erase the hurt and anger, to find closure and let go and yet I can't really let you go yet, Tae" he whispered "do you hate me for it? Would you rather forget my existence for leaving?" I stopped playing with his hand and looked to him.

"Yeah, I hate you; you left me, Jimin." I scoffed "But, the two years you've been gone? I've never stopped thinking about you and I don't plan to." I continued to play with his hand before linking them together "other people drove you into leaving-"

"Tae, it was my decision." He frowned, squeezing my hand "you keep passing blame and -"

"Because, Jimin! It hurts less than to blame you! Every day I want to see you, speak to you, you're my best friend, yet you're not there, you're gone and there's a hole in my entire existence now that you've gone and blaming you only seems to put salt on the wound and not only does it hurts but it makes me bitter toward you" my voice softened, looking to the man so our eyes were locked "and I can't bring myself to hate someone like you, Jimin. You're too... Jimin!"

There was an empty laughter, one that resonated in my heart, he sounded so pained, so broken that I recalled him using the same one just before he died. Looking up to the stars, he let out a breath before running his hands through my hair yet again, that tune from earlier bubbling up through his throat, this time in words, and out into the sky, a lullaby to the moon, a lullaby to me, a warning of the close coming pass of dawn.

You know it all, you're my best friend.

The sun will rise again;

no darkness, no season can last forever.

And, once the moon had fallen to sleep and the sun rose to suffocate my being, I sat up with a strangled, cold cry clawing throughout my body upon this dusty bench in a park somewhere just beside the city, the blue shade that'd been cast over me disappearing "J-Ji-Jimin! Please - don't leave me! Don't leave me again!" I said, trying to grab onto the soft hand stroking my hair.

"I'm sorry." It took one disgustingly warm ray of sunlight to wipe out the silhouette of the moon child before me, one final injection of UV rays to strip me of my Jimin once again.

[alexmorrall]

Out on the Waves in the Night

The night was a thick, hazy black, stars shrouded in darkness. An iron screw steam ship crossed the roiling seas, a white sliver on a plane locked in motion. The crew clung to their bunks for some sense of peace, but the walls kept moving. Its floor rattled in protest as Poseidon did his best to make an appearance. Trying desperately to poke through, the watery king of old drove his spear against the ship’s belly. A young woman of eighteen laid on the cargo hold floor. Every minute or so, Caroline’s head was knocked by swells. She ached, stung and sore, but she did not move. It was deserved, God willed her pain. Setting her neck against the floor beneath and biding her time, she took each blow, dreaming of a safe place.

White sands stretched out before her, caressed by equatorial rays. Her toes found respite beneath the sun-roasted surface. She turned over, her fiancé lying close.  Neil’s breathing was slow and relaxed as he gazed up, bowler hat over his eyes. As she laid her fingertips on his skin, she felt his heat inside. Wanting nothing more than for this to last forever, she sighed, lying back. Their time together in the sun melted away as he rose, shaking off the sand. He adjusted his hat, before striding away across the beach. Rising heat boiled the white plain as he walked away, fading into the jungle.

Enraptured in the ever-present aura of warmth, her mind looked back and inward. She saw herself as a child of four, playing in a sandbox. When she viewed her future, she never envisioned lying on a beach in Fiji. She saw herself as a cowgirl roaming the saloons for bandits, a revolver on both hips. With small hands, she built an Old West town. She walked its streets with undaunted swagger.  A cowgirl in the sand, she marveled at the monument of her dreams, until a gust of wind swept through. In an instant, hours of work reduced to a few random clusters of sand.

Woken from her reverie, she heard languid footsteps growing nearer. Resuming occupation of a severely sun-burnt body at the waters’ edge, she peered up at Neil. He had emerged from a shady grove that stood over freshwater streams emptying into the Pacific.

“Darling, I found the most remarkable crab. He had more colors than the sun, and the flowers here! They are magnificent, not to mention the palms, so many varieties…”

He had captured the flora and fauna with his Eastman Kodak, which he packed up. Deeply proud of his photographs, and the newly purchased camera, he too hoped to hold onto this forever. This was the vacation they’d scrimped, saved and longed for. Caroline had seen his pictures, all black and white and grainy. It would retain nothing of the trip’s true beauty, its legacy lost to time.

It would all be over too soon, and their carefully laid plans erased. She remembered the Ford they’d rented on the road to Paradise outside Glenorchy. It chugged up the cliffside for a rainbow glimpse, spilling over a lakeside waterfall. Alas it was but a mere vision, taking up a brief second in their lives. 

The memory-laden camera fell into his hat as he dropped it into the sand. Taking her in his arms, he kissed her neck, which stung with burns. She groaned, which he mistook for arousal.

“I’m burnt to a crisp. I need to get inside, and some aloe on my skin.” They picked up the towel, the hat with the camera in it, and went on their way back to the resort.

It drifted into the recesses of her buffeted brain as another wave rocked the steam-powered vessel. A scuffling sound from a shadow in the ship’s belly made her peer to the left.  Glad to focus on something beyond memory, she locked eyes with a bright-eyed boy. His hair was jet black, skin a deep chestnut and eyes shone a disarming blue.  He sat small as a mouse, silent as one too.  His eyes, like sapphires in the night, begged recognition.

“Where did you come from?” she asked, “I didn’t see you when I came down.”

“I snuck in from the sea,” he yawned, stretching bronze legs. He wore green trunks. “There’s a hole in this ship, don’t you know? There is with most things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Things don’t always add up. There’s always something you can’t account for, something that can’t be controlled. Something always gets lost or doesn’t turn out the way you expect.  How does one explain a lost stocking in the wash?”

“Is that what you are? You’re nothing more than a lost stocking in the wash?”

“Aren’t we all?” he chuckled.

“What’s your name?”

“Geoff.  What’s yours?”

“Caroline.  It’s nice to meet you, Geoff.  How old are you?”

“Six.”

“Six?  You look at least ten.  Are you a Fijian?”

“My father is. My mother is French.”

Caroline recalled Neil’s promise they would honeymoon in Paris. They laid out their futures so precisely. After making love in a Rotorua hot spring, they decided to name their first son after her father.  That would bring him back into her life, she told herself.  She always wanted to make him happy, but she knew he wanted a son. A grandson could have sufficed but not now. The thought made her bite back her tears.

“Oh,” Caroline swallowed, bleary-eyed, “how did they meet?”

“My mother was on vacation here. She hiked to a waterfall one day and my father was her guide. He told her of his life, growing up in Fiji, and she fell in love. My mother decided to stay in Fiji, sharing the shelter of his single bed. She’s the one who taught me proper English, but that’s enough about me. Everyone onboard is Fijian merchant marine. Who are you?”

“My name is Caroline. I’m from Auckland.”

“The City of Sails! Is that where we’re going?”

“Why, yes. Shouldn’t you know? Well, my fiancé and I came to Fiji after he came into inheritance. Then… the only way back to New Zealand on such short notice was on this old cargo ship.”

“This isn’t just any old ship. It’s haunted.”

Caroline remembered a dream from an afternoon long ago, sitting in her grandmother’s attic.  A haze of musk hung over cedar boxes filled with books from the nineteenth century.  Each yellowed page was a relic to her, as she inhaled the scent of forgotten knowledge.  In the dark corners of the attic, a creaking sound resonated, carrying along the walls and causing her to lift her eyes to follow its passage.  Puffs of sawdust leaked through the walls.  Caroline broke into a coughing fit. When she opened her eyes, she saw yellow handprints spreading across the walls.  Spreading from the far wall, they inched their way until the attic became a prison of light.

She hadn’t eaten much then, and she wasn’t eating now, not since the accident.

“Is that right?” Caroline shivered in the hold of the ship.  “There are ghosts on board?”

“They are all around,” Geoff whispered, eyes darting left and right.

“I came here with my fiancé, hoping to add memories to the life we were planning, and now he’s dead.  Maybe his ghost is here too.”

“What happened to your beau?”

“We canoed beyond the reef, and he broke the blade of his oar. It started to sink, and he reached for it. He… fell into the ocean.” Caroline paused, her eyes watery green now.

“The people at the resort told us to never go beyond the reef, and he learned why.  The undertow carried him out. I watched him go. There was nothing I could do.”

“You couldn’t reach him with your canoe in time?”

“I… didn’t try. It was horrible. He was gone so fast. He was too big. He would have pulled me in with him. Then we both would have drowned.”

“That is very sad. I am sorry,” Geoff nodded silently, his black hair bobbing in the dark. “How long will it be until you love again?”

“I do not know… I still feel the pain. I must feel it. You were right, it was my fault. I let him die. I’ve been punishing myself but its right. I need to suffer.”

A loud crash was heard from above and Caroline looked up to see the Fijian captain descending a ladder.

“We’re going to make it,” he said, “the storm has passed.”

She turned back to the shadows and looked for Geoff, but he had vanished.

“Geoff?” she called into the darkness.  “Geoff, are you there?”

“Who is this Geoff now?” asked the captain. He carried a bowl of stew, nearly dropping it as the ship rolled. “Is there someone else down here?”

“Yes, isn’t there a boy of six named Geoff on this ship?”

“No, there’s no boy named Geoff,” the captain frowned, offering her the stew. “Now, you should eat. You’ve not eaten since we picked you up in Suva three days ago.”

“My fiancée is dead. I cannot eat. Now, Geoff, I did see him, I know it.”

“Perhaps you were dreaming. How anyone could sleep right now, I cannot say.”

“But I told him everything. It must have been real.”

“I have seen the limits of the Pacific, the greatest expanse on earth,” the captain began.  “I have seen the glory of this world, and I know if you can see it in your mind, it already exists. We humans live more in our minds than in flesh. Out on the waves, I dream much. I’ve come to think dreams are just as real as waking life. I’ve never felt more than in a dream. Who is to say we are more real than they?”

“I’ve had enough dreaming, good captain,” Caroline sighed. “I’ll sleep now. When we return to Auckland, I’ve got some letters to write. I’ll have to write Neil’s mother, inform her of his passing. It will break her heart, but I will make it up to her. Perhaps it is for the best. I always liked his brother better.”

“Let’s start with dinner,” said the captain, handing her the stew. This time, she took it.

[damonsbitchx]

Haunted

Characters/pairings: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Reader, Rowena, brief Crowley and Castiel, Charlie

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, A LOT of angst, a shit ton of angst, a few curse words, it’s just pure angst and sadness

Word Count: 3420

A/N: I would just like to apologize profusely, first off. This fic has been in the works for a maybe two or three months now. I went searching for some Imagine gifs and found the one below which lead to the idea for this fic. It’s been through several layers of revision and was looked over like 5 layers ago by my Soulmate, Esther. So, all mistakes are mine. I’m honestly very sorry, but holy hell, I really like how it turned out. I am planning on writing a second part if y’all like this, but I’m not completely sure yet.

Italics is context, just to add to the emotional kick in the teeth.

If you would like to be added or removed from a tag list or would like to make a request, please send me an ask!

Eleven years ago, Sam and Dean rolled into a small town in Wisconsin on account of a murderous clown. By the time they found and killed it, four sets of parents had already been murdered, yours being the last. Your parents became those victims in the movies that would’ve had a chance if the heroes had just gotten their shit together five minutes earlier.

You stood frozen in the middle of the living room while the two very tall men dodged the lamps and kitchen knives being flung at them. In between each object thrown, one would lunge at the clown in desperate attempts to grab him.

The clown finally hit the floor ten feet away from you with a thump. You stood there paralyzed, staring up with wide eyes at the men who had finally emerged from the hallway. The shorter one frowned, glancing at the taller one, but he was just staring back at you with a pitiful look in his eyes.

A huge smirk grew on Rowena’s face as she read.

“What are you smiling for?” you barked at the witch.

“Oh, no reason,” she breathed, her thick accent coating the air.

Sam pushed his shoulders back, lunging towards her, but you quickly cut him off with your arm. He huffed in frustration at the look you shot him. You whipped your head back around to her.

“What did you find?” you demanded through gritted teeth. She smiled her wicked little smirk and you could practically feel the anger steaming off of Sam. Rowena frowned at him.

“A spell,” she squeaked.

You stared at her flatly, cocking your eyebrow after a few moments. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

“I found a spell to help your brother, but,” she paused, dragging it on much longer than needed. You were beginning to lose patience and she could tell when you shifted your weight, your expression full of annoyance.

“I’ll need someone to translate it,” she beamed.

“Okay, how do we do that?” Sam huffed.

“I believe your friend can assist there,” she gestured to Charlie whose eyes met yours. You nodded at her.

“Let me see it,” Charlie approached Rowena, reaching out to take the book.

She looked over the page for a few moments, the air thick with anticipation.

“Yeah, this is simple,” she nodded. You felt a wave of relief wash over you. Maybe you guys would finally catch a break.

“But what about the demons who are after that book?” Sam cut in.

“Crowley, are you sure you can’t call these guys off?” you asked him.

“They won’t listen to me,” Crowley shrugged. You rolled your eyes but didn’t pursue him any further.

“Y/N, it’s okay, I got this,” Charlie smiled at you. You couldn’t convince yourself to smile back though.

“I can do it,” you blurted out very suddenly. Everyone whipped their heads around, staring at you.

“What?” Sam and Charlie barked in unison.

“Before you say anything, just hear me out,” you pleaded. “Charlie said it herself, it’s an easy decode, but it won’t take the demons very long to find us and figure out what we’re up to. Once they do that, they’ll be gunning for her and it’s not like she can decode it here because she doesn’t have the right equipment-”

“Plus, Rowena needs me to translate a much more advanced list of ingredients, so you’re going to sacrifice yourself. A typical Winchester move,” Charlie huffed, rolling her eyes. Your stomach twister slightly at her words.

“Look, they need you here more than they need me and I owe it to Dean after all he’s done for me. I’m the only one who can do this. I know I can do it, please, just let me go,” you pleaded.

They all exchanged glances, considering the situation before turning back towards you.

“There’s no other way, Sam, you and I both know it,” you said.

“No, Y/N, you can’t,” Charlie insisted.

“Charlie, I want to, please. I’m not a little kid anymore and I owe this to Dean,” I pleaded.

Charlie, Sam, and Cass all shared looks.

“Okay,” Sam decided out loud.

“Sam,” Castiel cut in. “Dean will be furious if you let her go,” he spoke in his usual low voice. Sam sighed gently.

“I know Cass, I do, but we don’t have any other choice.” Castiel frowned, but he didn’t argue.

Charlie sighed. “I can slow the demons and give Y/N a fighting chance. We know where they’ll be, I can set a trap,” Charlie added.

And that was it. Charlie set the trap before attempting the difficult decoding of the ingredients for the spell, Castiel stayed to keep an eye on Crowley and Rowena, and Sam stayed so Dean had someone to yell at when he found out what they had done. All Sam could do was pray that you’d be okay.

You never found out exactly why they took you in. They gave you many different reasons. Sympathy, too much knowledge, guilt, but they never decided on one sole reason and you never pressed them.

You never pressed them because it didn’t matter to you why they took you anymore. All that mattered was they saved you from a life that could’ve messed you up even worse than you had already been and they loved you with all their hearts.

There was an incident when you were a teenager and it took an Angel manipulating one of your dreams and showing you just how bad of a life could’ve been if they hadn’t taken you. All your anger with them cleared up for the most part after that.

How could you argue with it anyway? They didn’t have to take you in, they took you out of their own free will. These two, huge men who fought monsters for a living and had both been to hell at least once in their lives, found it in their hearts to love and care for you. They were so gentle with you.

You were safe with them and they made you feel apart of the family. You were a Winchester and leaving that name and everything that came with it behind was the hardest part.

You were fiercely determined to get this spell decoded for Rowena before the demons finally caught up to you. You knew, going in, that you weren’t going to make it out, but Dean was counting on this spell. He wasn’t going to be happy when he found out about your stupidity, but it was alright, he’d get over it. At least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself of.

You drove like mad for seven hours before finally reaching Aurora, Colorado and finding a dingy motel to shack up in. You quickly painted some sigils and symbols on the walls to ward against everything you could think of, hoping nothing would find you until you had sent the translation, at least. Then, you got to work.

Three hours later you were so close to translating the spell, you could almost feel the relief. Your eyes burned and your heart was still racing, but you kept typing until you finished the last of it. Now, all you had to do was wait for the program to spit out the end results. Your phone buzzed for the tenth time that hour. It was Charlie, checking up on you.

Hey Y/N, how’s it going?

Good, I’m almost there. Should have the spell within the hour.

Awesome, stay safe. Love you.

You too.

Suddenly, the window above the table shattered, spitting shards of glass at you. You ducked down with a gasp, throwing your arms in front of your face to protect it. Then, almost like it was timed, your program dinged, indicating that the translating was finally finished and you locked eyes with a demon. Your stomach twisted violently as you stood up and grabbed your chair, then flung it at the demon who was about to launch himself at you. You frantically grabbed the laptop and dashed across the room.

Your back slammed into the white divider on the opposite side of the room and you immediately ripped the lamp from the wall and hurled it at him before doing anything else. Next, you frantically fumbled to attach the translation to an email while the demon stumbled around in shards of pale green ceramic. Your stomach felt lodged in your throat as you waited for the e-mail to send, but it was sending at an agonizingly slow rate. Your wide eyes flicked from the screen to the demon and back as he turned around in search of you.

“C’mon, c’mon,” you mumbled to your computer, shaking it slightly in frustration.

The file was almost done sending and you couldn’t find anything else to throw nor could you move from your spot. He shot you an evil smirk and pulled a large knife from his jacket, making your heart stop. He launched himself at you with all his strength, causing you to panic and reflexively stick your leg out to stop him. You faintly heard the swipe sound of the e-mail sending and felt a red hot pain searing shoot through your leg. The demon was a few feet away from you clutching at his stomach, so you kicked his chin for good measure, sending him flying backward.

“Thank God, the email sent,” you mused.

You winced at the pain blossoming in your left thigh, realizing there was a huge gash in your leg now, but the shock couldn’t last long because the demon would come for the computer next.

You limped over to the small table where the lamp had once been and raised the computer high over your head. With all your strength, you sent it hurtling at the corner of the table and

CRASH.

You dropped the remains of the smashed device to the floor, stumbling back against the wall and noticing your vision turning slightly fuzzy. You glanced across the room, catching a glimpse of the demons furious expression.

“Take that… you sunuva bitch,” you mumbled, smiling weakly.

He growled, running at you with his fist raised, but you were still alert enough to respond. You grabbed the telephone from the stand and caught his wrist in the cord, effectively diffusing his attack and kicking him in the stomach. He stumbled backward again, his wrist still caught in the wire, causing him to rip the phone from the wall. You were reminded of the gash in your leg when you began to feel nauseous and fuzzy, but you had to keep moving.

You dashed as quickly across the room as you could, slipping into the bathroom and locking the door. You frantically searched the bathroom for something that could help you, only to find that there was nothing. You leaned against the wall, praying that maybe your brothers would swoop in now and save the day.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Dean called, letting it ring down the hallway, but there was no answer.

“Y/N/N, I got your favorite, curly fries and burgers, put down the books for a while and come eat!” he hollered again, but there was no answer.

He spent a few minutes looking for you, making sure to check all your favorite hiding places, but came up dry. So, he went to look for Sam, Charlie, and Cass who were probably still down with Rowena and Crowley. Maybe you went with them.

He found them exactly where he knew he would, but you were nowhere in sight. He didn’t like the whole Rowena and Crowley situation at all but wished Sam would at least keep him in the loop.

And obviously, it was for a good reason.

“Sam, where’s Y/N? I can’t find her anywhere.”

Sam’s expression fell and his hopeful eyes fell on Charlie who shook her head. He swallowed hard, his heart sinking deep into his chest and gestured for Dean to follow him outside. Dean frowned at Sam but followed him anyways.

“Well?” he demanded once they were outside.

“Dean..” he began.

“Sam, where is she?!” he growled at his brother.

Sam ran his fingers through his hair, guilt taking over his features.

“She’s in Colorado, we--”

“Colorado?! What the hell is she doing there?!”

“If you would be quiet and listen, I could tell you,” Sam snapped him.

Dean raised his eyebrows in disbelief, but he shut up.

“Rowena needed the spell translated, Charlie wanted to, but Y/N wouldn’t let her. She said she owed it to you, Charlie said she would try to hold off the Demons as best as she--”

“Demons?” Dean fumed, “you let her go off by herself and you knew there were demons after her, what the hell is wrong with you Sam?”

Anger overtook Dean as he dropped the bag of food on the ground.

“If any of you try to follow me, I swear, I’ll kill you,” he hissed, taking off as fast as he could to Baby.

He fumbled with his keys, desperately trying to grab the one to his car while he ran and all he could think about was how much of this was his fault.

Dean remembered every moment of the day he saved you. He even remembered what he had for breakfast that morning. He remembered taking just a little bit too long securing a proper weapon to kill the bastard. He remembered breaking the door down just before your mother screamed one last time. He had no idea how many times she’d screamed, but he winced just thinking about it. He remembered dashing down the hallway, past the living room and catching a glimpse of your horrified face.

His heart broke and he could barely even look at you after they’d finished killing the clown. He knew if he’d just been a little bit faster getting the weapon or showed up in town a day earlier, then your parents would still be alive and you wouldn’t be risking your life for him. You probably would’ve gone to college, and gotten married, and had kids. Instead, you were twenty-two years old and on the verge of being murdered, just so he could get a stupid mark off his arm.

It wasn’t worth losing your life. He had to get to you before it was too late.

Just under six and a half hours of failed attempts at convincing himself that you were okay while his tires raced raw to get to you, Dean frantically pulled into the parking lot belonging to the motel he tracked you to. He jumped out, sprinting up to the door, still muttering to himself that you were fine, that you’d be here and you’d be okay.

He knocked on the door, his breath catching in his throat while he said one last silent prayer.

Dean couldn’t wait too long before he just kicked the door in. He quickly took in the state of the motel room. His eyes were met by a broken chair, a smashed lamp, and the telephone ripped from the wall first. With each step further into the room, he felt his stomach constrict tighter and tighter. Panic turned into fear when his eyes caught the red streaks on the edge of the door frame across the room that leads to the bathroom. Dean walked further, his eyes finally finding the dark red stain that lay just on the other side of the white divider.

He swallowed hard before turning to follow the trail of red spots that lead from the stain on the floor to the narrow bathroom door frame. His heart sunk faster than his brain could register, he was no longer consciously willing his legs to move, they just did.

For the first few years, you had some trouble, but they worked as hard as they could to help you feel like you had a family. It took you a while, but you found enough strength let them in and accept them as best as you knew how. You grew especially close to Dean, he became your safe spot.

Dean remembered all the phases you went through. He thought about your very first phase he’d ever experienced, your princess phase. It startled him at first, he and Sam had no clue what to do. So, they gave in and had tea parties with you every now and then when they would visit Bobby’s house. He remembered sitting in Bobby’s kitchen and laughing mockingly at Sam who had decided to let you attempt to braid his hair.

He reminisced about all the times they’d go back to Bobby’s house to see you while you were growing up before they trusted you enough to let you hunt with them. When the boys returned from hunts you’d run up to Dean and hug his hips, squealing his name and then do the same to Sam.

Dean would read you bedtime stories with commentary about how stupid the characters were whenever he was there. Then, after he was done reading (and spouting sarcastic criticisms like no one’s business) he would kiss you goodnight and tell you he loved you, as would Sam. As you grew up, you insisted that they read lore books instead, which Dean did not agree with at all, but he complied anyway.

Often times they would come to stay at Bobby’s for a few days at a time and take a small break from hunting to be with you. Even when they were out on hunts, they would always make sure to calculate what time they’d have to call Bobby’s depending on their time-zone to make sure to tell you they loved you before you fell asleep. Sometimes Dean would even stick around longer to hear about your day at school or tell you about something funny that happened to him.

God, he loved you.

In a matter of seconds, he was standing in the door frame of the bathroom holding his breath. The curtain was pulled closed, but a bloody hand stuck out and draped limply over the edge of the tub.

And Dean knew.

He knew who the hand belonged to. He knew it was your lifeless, twenty-two-year-old hand hanging off the edge of that tub. The hand that balled up his t-shirts until your knuckles turned white when you’d had nightmares those first few months after coming back from Hell. The hand that stitched him and his brother up with the utmost care when they’d been injured. The hand he’d held in his own when you fell asleep curled up in his lap during a movie. He knew it, deep down he knew, but the rest of him refused to believe that he would go home and you wouldn’t be there to greet him. He refused to believe this was anything other than a bad dream. He wouldn’t believe it, not until he saw your face. Not until he made absolutely sure. Then again, he found he couldn’t force himself to pull back the curtain either. He couldn’t move, he stood in the door frame, paralyzed.

The taller man held you tightly in his arms in the back seat of that black car, squeezing your small, trembling hand while repeatedly telling you that you were safe. The other one drove as fast as he could in the opposite direction of the town that used to be yours. You couldn’t hold back your silent tears, but you knew you felt safer in that car than you did anywhere else. Images of your parents lying lifeless on the floor of your house haunting you now and for years to come.

And just like theirs to you, it would be yours to Dean, from now until the day he could no longer find the strength to breathe.

He was yanked back to reality when his phone rang in his pocket. He drew the phone numbly, glancing down at the lit up screen. It was Sam.

“Sam,” his angry voice broke when he answered.

“Dean, it’s Charlie,” Sam mumbled.

Dean closed his eyes, sighing sharply as he struggled to react. The line was silent for a few long moments before he drew in a sharp breath and spun around, flinging the phone as hard as he could across the room. It hit the wall and shattered, pieces of plastic flying back across the room.

Then, Dean fell to his knees, praying it was only a nightmare.

Forever Tags: @assbutt-still-in-hell, @shotgunintheimpala, @wishedworld, @aquabrie, @pie-not-cake-you-assbutt, @cas-loves-dean-and-i-love-him, @imaginesforthose-wholovefandoms, @weasleywinchester

[shogunpenny]

Answer all 100

1: Is there a boy/girl in your life?: Not romantically, no2: Think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them?: Oh fuck this is a tough one. She cheated on me, but being the christian that I am, i’m called to forgive people who wrong me, no matter how badly. So reluctantly, yes. (doesn’t mean i’ve forgotten it, or will act like it never happened) 3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17: “He closed his eyes, but he could still see himself, huddling like a rabbit with nowhere left to run, Aes Sedai closing round him like ravens”4: What’s something you really want right now?: A girlfriend5: Are you afraid of falling in love?: Not particularly6: How can I win your heart?: Buy me a sword7: Have you ever slept on a couch with someone else?: nope8: What’s the background on your cell?: Currently its a default background because last month my phone decided to completely reset itself. Previously it was Gabe Newell9: Name the last four beds you were sat on?: What10: Think of the last person who said I love you, do you think they meant it?: Yeah11: Honestly, are things going the way you planned?: My life is a trainwreck, but tbh I don’t know what I expected12: Who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts?: My sister’s13: Would you rather have a poodle or a Rottweiler?: Rottweiler, but not a huge preference14: Which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain?: Seeing as how my depression limits the amount of emotions I can feel at one time, physical.15: Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum?: A zoo16: Are you tired?: Always17: How long have you known your 1st phone contact?: Since I was born18: If you had to delete one year of your life completely, which would it be?: This year probably19: Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes?: Incredibly unlikely, I wanted to think of an amusing analogy, but my mind has gone blank, so basically God would have to manifest into a physical form and start yelling at me to do it before I would consider it20: When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with?: I’ve never kissed anyone romantically21: If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today?: *Smashes that mf marriage button* Fuck yeah!22: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?: Read Above23: When was the last time you were disappointed?: Every fucking day by myself24: Is there a certain quote you live by?: Probably risky to say cus the majority of tumblr hates him, but I love Jontron’s quote “If I can’t be the best at something, I sure as hell can be the worst25: What’s on your mind?: “Fucking hell i’ve still got 75 more of these”26: Do you have any tattoos?: No but i’d love to get one some day.27: What is your favorite color?: Purple28: Next time you will kiss someone on the lips?: Idk?? I can’t see into the future. Hopefully soon??29: Who are you texting?: Nobody atm30: Are you superstitious about anything?: Not legitimately31: Have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right?: Yep. shortly before I found out my ex was cheating on me I had lots of anxiety that she might be doing something of that sort. Usually my anxiety is unfounded, so it really sucks when its not. 32: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to?: Yeah, a few33: Do you think anyone has feelings for you?: Feelings? For MY me?? (It’s not likely at all) 34: Has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes?: Not really35: What was the reason for your last breakup?: See Above36: Were you single on Valentines Day?: Not this last one37: Name one physical feature that you like about yourself, and one you dislike: uhh. I literally cannot think of one physical thing I like about myself, whereas there are many I dislike38: What do your friends call you?: Most of them call me Penny39: Has anyone upset you in the last week?: Not badly, no40: Have you ever cried over a text?: No41: Where’s your last bruise located?: Is it particularly normal to keep track of bruises? I don’t know42: What is it from?: I don’t know, I don’t even know if I have any bruises currently43: Last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad?: I can’t say i’ve been anywhere particularly terrible in such a way, atleast not physically44: Who was the last person you were on the phone with?: My Mom45: Do you have a favourite pair of shoes?: I only have one pair of shoes, as sad as that sounds. I actually have a another but they’re so worn out they can barely be called shoes anymore, and I only wear them when i’m going outside really quickly.46: Do you wear hats if your having a bad hair day?: Not much anymore. I used to wear hats all the fucking time when I was young, similar to a security blanket sort of thing, until a few years ago I just stopped47: Would you ever go bald if it was the style?: No48: Do you make supper for your family?: Very often, yes. I swear my family would starve sometimes if they didn’t have me to make the food49: What’s the toughest decision you made this year?: I’ve barely made any decisions this year, everything’s basically just been thrust upon me50: Top 3 web-pages?: A private forum where some of my friends and I hang out, Youtube, and Tumblr51: Do you know anyone who hates shopping?: My dad and brother52: Does anything on your body hurt?: Not without messing with it. I have some acne, and a weird boil thing under my arm that hurts slightly if I mess with them53: Are goodbyes hard for you?: Depends if its permanent or for a long time. If so, yeah. 54: What was the last beverage you spilled on yourself?: Probably coffee55: How is your hair?: Usually it likes to tangle and is rather coarse, but right now its not particularly bad in either of those regards.56: What do you usually do first in the morning?: Go back to sleep57: Do you think two people can last forever?: Yeah58: Think back to January 2007, were you single?: I was 9 years old. 9 year olds aren’t typically known to have SOs59: Green or purple grapes?: Purple60: When’s the next time you will give someone a BIG hug?: Probably tomorrow for my mom61: Do you wish you were somewhere else right now?: I wish I was in Israel, laying Jerusalem under siege with the lads. Deus Vult.62: What did your father teach you?: Many Things. 63: Where will you be 5 hours from now?: In bed, asleep64: What were you doing at 8 this morning: Sleeping65: This time last year, can you remember who you liked?: Not really66: Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile?: Any of my friends67: Did you kiss or hug anyone today?: Not romantically, but yes68: What was your last thought before you went to bed last night?: Who the fuck can remember the last thing they thought before falling asleep? Like wtf can people do that? things just get progressively more and more hazy as I fall asleep, and the chances are my last thought is something completely random and unrelated to anything69: Have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?: Every time I draw70: How many windows are open on your computer?: 3, Skype, Steam and Firefox71: If you won 100 million dollars, what would you buy first?: Probably just put a lot of it into a savings account or something so I can make sure I live a comfortable life without having to work72: What is your ringtone?: Twilight of the Thunder God73: How old will you be in 5 months?: Still 1974: Where is your Mum right now?: Probably asleep75: Why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love?: Its really hard to love someone who cheats on you76: Have you held hands with somebody in the past three days?: Yes, my niece.77: Are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago?: for the most part, yeah78: Do you remember who you had a crush on in year 7?: No79: Is there anyone you know with the name Mike?: A few people80: Have you ever fallen asleep in someones arms?: Excluding my mother’s when I was a babby, no81: How many people have you liked in the past three months?: Not including every girl I see, probably like 282: Has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days?: I hope not83: Will you talk to the person you like tonight?: Not unless she somehow materializes into my house84: You’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with?: umm i doubt i’m above getting drunk, but definitely above harassing people like that85: If your BF/GF was into drugs would you care?: Depends on the drugs, and just how much she was into them. If she smoked weed every once in a while, who gives a shit? 86: What was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie?: Umm, I got to see the movie?? 87: Who was your last received call from?: My mom88: If someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you?: like, I hate cruelty to animals and shit but fuck man, that’s a thousand bucks we’re talking about. 89: What is something you wish you had more of?: Money90: Have you ever trusted someone too much?: my ex91: Do you sleep with your window open?: Only in the summer when the AC hasn’t been turned on92: Do you get along with girls?: All of my coworkers save for one are girls, so yeah. 93: Are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth?: No94: Does sex mean love?: Not necessarily95: You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem?: See Above, have never kissed anyone romantically96: Have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring?: See Above97: Did you sleep alone this week?: This week, and every week of my life98: Everybody has somebody that makes them happy, do you?: Not one specific person, but my friends usually do the trick99: Do you believe in love at first sight?: Not really100: Who was the last person that you pinky promise?: I don’t think I ever have pinky promised anyone

That took way too long

[captianfaerietrash]

Raythe Reign Gift Exchange: Hug in a Mug

I know it has been quite some time since I posted anything, but this is such an exciting moment, since I have been working on this for over a month. I really hope my giftee ( @mangaworm ) likes it! (even though it does not seem to let me tag them in this! Darn you tumblr *shakes fist*)

I’d like to thank the @raythereignfans​ for setting this up for the second year in a row, and of course Raythe herself for making all of these wonderful creations possible~

Title: Hug in a Mug - A Date a Vampire.com fanfic

Prompt: “Milo introduces Lucien to coffee”

As the sun finally dips below the Winter Haven skyline, Milo practically trips over himself in order to get to his computer as soon as possible. Luckily, for the sake of his skin and the steaming cup of coffee in hand, he doesn’t actually trip, but catches himself right before sitting down in his computer chair. He sighs in relief as the mug ultimately sits undamaged on the desk beside the keyboard. With that minor wave of anxiety quickly passing, the college student hurries to log on to what has quickly  become his favorite website: dateavampire.com, constantly glancing at the clock in the corner of his computer screen. Hopefully he’ll make it on before-- ah-ha! As promised, exactly 20 minutes after sundown, a window appears, alerting him to someone attempting to contact him through the website. Of course, Milo clicks the “ok” button and beams brightly as the always lovely sight of the handsome blonde male appears before him. Aaah, Lucian… simply spotting the supposed vampire on his screen sends his heart fluttering in his rib cage and brings a goofy smile to his face. He waves while Lucian fumbles with the device, mumbling something about no sound coming through. Right as Milo moves his hands towards the keyboard, the “vampire” gasps in pleasant surprise when he finally figures it out. The college student couldn’t help but smile and hum in amusement.

“Hi there, did you sleep well?” He asks, tilting his head curiously to the side with that somewhat silly smile at the corner of his lips. Regardless whether he believed Lucien to really be a vampire or not, Milo can tell that the gorgeous man before him just woke up not too long ago: his movements are slightly lethargic and he occasionally yawns. Plus, the “viscount’s” typically picture perfect golden locks look ever so slightly disheveled, which is definitely noticeable when compared to the usual perfection. If Milo attempted a call merely 20 minutes after waking up, someone might mistake him for a monstrous creature of the night.. He cannot help but feel a little jealous, but not that much. Upon hearing Milo’s question, Lucien’s lips curl up into a heart-melting smile as he nods his head slightly in response.

“I did indeed. Although, I do wish I could have woken from my slumber earlier so that we may talk longer. You only have a few hours until you must retire for sleep, no?” He smiles somewhat sadly now: the corners of his mouth drop subtly, as if the thought of not being able to talk to Milo for long upset him. Much to his surprise, the young man suddenly chuckles and shakes his head, which only confuses the blonde male beyond the screen.

“Not tonight. I’ve gotta upload my photos onto my computer and start on an assignment due Monday. Although, I doubt I’ll be concentrating too much on that part.” Milo cuts himself off with a nervous chuckle in order to keep himself from babbling on more than he already did. Lucien raises both brows in surprise, certainly not expecting this kind of behavior from the young man he has acquainted himself with.

“How do you plan on staying awake longer than you do already? You look absolutely exhausted at the end of our conversations most nights.” His lifted brows now furrow in concern. While he has not been human in quite some time, he is still certain that humans need a decent amount of sleep. However, Milo seems to not share these same concerns as he reaches off-screen and returns with a cup in his hand; the words ‘World’s Biggest Nerd’ face Lucien, but he has absolutely no idea what that means.

“Waaaaaaaaaay ahead of you. I made some coffee. So, I can actually stay awake this time.” Milo grins, obviously quite proud of his own plan and takes a drink from the coffee mug. A content sigh escapes him as he sets the ceramic cup back down once more. When he turns his gaze back to the computer, he spots Lucien simply blinking in confusion. Could it be… has Lucien never heard of coffee before? Damn, Milo has to admit: Lucien must be a talented actor for sure if he can fake not knowing what coffee is! That, or Lucien was born and raised under a rock and completely deprived of the caffeinated life blood known as coffee, which should be a crime in and of itself! Whatever the case may be, Milo decides to just go along with it, his eyes widening in horror at the thought of someone never trying coffee before in their whole life. “You…. you do know what coffee is… right?” Milo still asks, holding the mug out for Lucien to see inside. Perhaps it would jog his memory. Still very much confused, the “viscount” shakes his head.

“Not to my current knowledge, I am afraid…” Lucien scowls for a moment but ultimately smiles at Milo’s shocked expression. It was too precious, but he was not about to say that out loud. “Although, it seems to be something you enjoy, and is quite popular, considering your reaction and questions…” He observes, providing a starting point for the young man to begin his inevitable explanation. While Milo seems quite determined to learn as much as he could about Lucien, that much obvious to the blond from the insistence of the young man’s questions in their previous conversations, the viscount finds himself delighted by Milo’s plethora of expressions and animated explanations about things the college student probably thought mundane or normal. Could anyone truly blame Lucien for jumping on the opportunity when it presented itself? Besides, he truly wishes to know more about not only this “modern” world, but, right now, specifically this miracle liquid that Milo alluded to helping the young man stay awake rather than falling asleep around his usual time. It sounds more like some sort of medicinal draught than a pleasant beverage. Yet, the student before him seems to be doing just that: contently sipping away at the drink, which he barely catches a glance at, aside from that first look Milo gave him. It almost appears to be the same color of the photographer’s hair, perhaps a little darker? Certainly not a color that Lucien typically associates with beverages.

To the vampire’s relief and mild excitement, Milo lights up and laughs that beautiful, melodious laugh so unique to the young man. English, unfortunately, lacks the words to truly describe it in its entirety. “Well, you’re definitely not wrong, on either account. It just so happens to be the lifeblood of every college student ever…” Milo pauses and suddenly laughs again, as if only now catching onto his particular word choice. “Not literally, of course! But, we drink enough of it that it very well may be true! From all of the late night and all night studying, it’s practically a necessity. It’s got lots of caffeine which keeps us alert and wide awake. Plus, I think it actually tastes good, given enough cream and sugar.” He chuckles and looks at the cup again with a warm smile. “TT also calls it a ‘hug in a mug,’ especially if you’re just enjoying it rather than needing the coffee to stay conscious…” He trails off and spontaneously blushes faintly, setting the mug down and chuckling awkwardly out of embarrassment. “I kinda rambled a little bit there… Sorry about that…”

Lucien hums and smiles in mild amusement with a shake of his head. “No need to apologize, Milo. I was enjoying your explanation, especially when you called it… oh, what was it… something about a hug in the cup?”

“Hug in a mug, but really? You don’t mind it?” “Mind it? I told you before, Milo: you don’t have to hide anything or change how you act around me. Just be yourself.” Lucien reassures the young man with a stunning smile. However, the vampire begins to pout, somewhat, even without realizing it, his bottom lip becoming subtly more noticeable to Milo as the viscount slumps his shoulders. “Even so, I highly doubt that anyone here knows how to make coffee. Some are even older than I, and the rest are far too busy with their modern lives.” Lucien sighs softly. “So, it seems I will not be able to partake of this warm embrace in a cup anytime soon… how unfortunate.” The viscount tilts his head slightly with the sad pout only increasing.

Really? No one where Lucien lived knew how to make coffee? Milo almost couldn’t believe it! Then again, most people his age don’t make their own either; they simply go to the nearest coffee shop and have it made for--

Ah ha! That’s it! A coffee shop!

Lucien still has some hesitations about his ‘ability to adapt to the modern world,’ (which Milo suspected simply meant that Lucien wasn’t allowed to go to “clients’” homes, or he simply didn’t feel ready to go to Milo’s apartment) so the college student doesn’t want to push that issue or even bring it up. However, that doesn’t mean he couldn’t make an offer for a compromise of sorts. It couldn’t hurt to ask, anyway, right?

“You are thinking rather intently on something… Is everything alright?” The velvety voice pulls Milo back from his waffling thoughts. Returning to the present moment of reality, the young man blinks rapidly as a sheepish grin curls at the edges of his lips and an embarrassed chuckle escapes his throat. He reaches up to scratch the back of his head.

“Well, I don’t know if I would say anything is wrong, but… I suppose you could say that I am… debating something, but I don’t know if I should ask. I… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.” “Uncomfortable? Sweet Milo, I doubt that your words in any form could make me uncomfortable, save for you telling me that you do not wish to speak with me any longer… Although, that would trouble me more than make me--”

“No! No… that’s not it at all, not in the slightest!” Milo panics and shakes his head while his hands flail about. After the momentary freak out, Milo sighs with defeat. “Well… I was going to ask if… if you heard of the historical district? If you have ever been there? I… I know you said you don’t get out because of the--”

“Is there something in this ‘historical district’ that you wish to show me?” Lucien tilts his head slightly with a charming heart-melting smile. How could Milo possibly withstand such an expression? It is impossible!

“Sort of… Kind of… okay, yeah…” Milo finally admits with a bashful smile and flushed cheeks. “There’s… there’s a small coffee shop that opened not too long ago right on the edge of the district… I know, it’s a stupid idea. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. Forget I said anything.”

“Nonsense. I think it is a lovely idea. Do you think they are open late?”

Milo stares at the screen for a moment after the “vampire” finishes his question. Lucien… was he actually considering this? Going to a coffee shop… going on a coffee date with Milo? “O-Oh! Yeah, it’s near the campus. Well, close enough that students go from time to time, so it’s open all night, actually.” The young man chuckles, practically giddy at this point. To think that Lucien might actually want to go on a date… with him! That he would actually venture outside… to go to a coffee shop with Milo of all people! Those same thoughts of disbelief whirl about in a continuous cycle, over and over. If he didn’t know better, he might think that he was actually dreaming.

“Great. I do not suppose you could… erm… I assume there is a way to… the address for the coffee shop in question?” Lucien falters, trying to find the words of this modern world he currently lacked. “I am sure Gregoire-- a dear friend of mine-- could assist me with getting there, once I have a location.” He ultimately explains, hoping that would clear up the confusion currently knitting the young man’s brows before him. Fortunately, realization dawns on Milo and the college student quickly types away at the keyboard.

“If Gregoire is the friend that helped you set up your profile on the website, then I’m sure he could help you with this. Of course, there’s always the option of me coming to pick you up from--”

“Trust me, Milo. This is not a place you wish to be. Not all here are as kind and… civilized as Gregoire and myself. Please…” Lucien implores with a sad smile and… something that the college student can only describe as smoldering… puppy eyes. How was Milo supposed to say no to that?

“Oh, alright, but only because you asked nicely.” Milo teases with a soft chuckle before hitting the Enter key. A soft ping pipes up on the blond male’s side soon after, much to the young man’s delight and relief. “Well, that sound tells me you got it, so… when should I expect to see you there? I’m pretty much free every night this week… if you’re not busy. We could always wait until next week if that’s--”

“Milo. It’s okay. If you have no qualms, we could go tomorrow?” Lucien raises a brow, but simply smiles: no expectations or impatience, just a content smile. Milo raises his brows in surprise, certainly not expecting this kind of… immediate response from Lucien.

“T-Tomorrow? Tomorrow would be great! I can work with that. What time do you want to meet up? I know right after sunset wouldn’t be ideal, so how about 8, or 9? Would that work better?” Milo cuts himself short before he could allow himself to continue rambling on. However, Lucien doesn’t seem to mind, or notice the college student’s slight nervous tendencies as he hums thoughtfully, contemplating the young man’s question.

“How about we go with 9, just to ‘be on the safe side,’ no?” He smiles, somewhat proud of attempt at a colloquialism he heard Milo use before. “Nine o’clock it is then. Tell Gregoire not to make you late.”

With the coffee shop being somewhat close to his apartment, Milo simply walks through the historical district, his heart fluttering higher in his chest with every step until it feels lodged in his throat from both the nerves and excitement. Can anyone honestly blame him though? He’s finally going on a date (albeit just a coffee date, but still! It totally counts!) with Lucien! He actually pinches himself a couple of times to make sure this isn’t some kind of elaborate dream as he makes his way over to the edge of the district. The moment he reaches the coffee shop, and holds his hand out to open the door, he hears the engine of an expensive sports car revving right before it speeds off, causing the curious college student to turn away from the door, towards the source of the sound. As he does, his mind goes completely blank at the sight before him: those gorgeous amethyst eyes, that fair skin that nearly looks porcelain beneath the streetlights, accompanied by long flowing locks spun out of gold, or platinum, maybe both, and those lips… those smooth perfect lips now curl up in a bright, but also amused, smile. Milo swears his heart stops right then and there as he lays eyes on the man he has been talking to for months, in the flesh rather than simply through the computer screen: Lucien. If it was somehow possible, he looks even more amazing in person.

He notices Lucien’s lips moving, but it actually takes him a moment to catch what was being said to him: “I hope you were not waiting long. I know we agreed on nine, but it seems we were both too impatient.” He hums with amusement, as if realizing Milo’s elongated pause was because of him. The college student flushes bright red but smiles widely while nodding in agreement.

“I guess you’re right.” He responds with a sheepish grin before turning back towards the door. “C’mon, might as well head in before it gets too crowded.” Milo holds the door open and looks back at the beautiful man behind him. “Might as well.” Lucien repeats the college student and reaches into his pocket to pull out a pair of sunglasses, earning a quizzical look from the young man before him. “Although it is not daylight, artificial light can become an annoyance, from what Gregoire has said. So, I took this pair of reflective oculars he offered to assist with… potential unpleasantries.” Lucien explains while placing the sunglasses on his face and walking through the opened door. Although Milo stares for a moment, as if uncertain what all to believe in that, he ultimately smiles and nods.

“I guess headaches and stuff would make it difficult to be in a place like this.” The student rationalizes and follows Lucien inside, soon taking the lead towards the front where the menu board sits behind the counter covered with towers of coffee cups next to pots of freshly brewed coffee, and the registers staffed with overly friendly baristas.

“The aroma in here is odd, but intriguing and mostly pleasant. Is that from the coffee?” Lucien inhales as he turns to ask Milo his query. A couple of people wait in line ahead of them, so surely this would be a proper time to converse about it. The earthiness… with the subtlest notes of spices and smoke and… perhaps a touch of chocolate as well? It is quite complex with so many other varying notes, that he has some difficulty identifying all of the distinct fragrances. Some of them he has no name for, because he never smelled them before in his entire life. Milo looks up at him with a curious smile and nods.

“Yeah, that’s probably from the coffee. I bet they get the whole roasted beans sent here, and they grind them on site before brewing. Would explain why the smell is so strong, and possibly why you find it so odd.” He explains, doing his best to give Lucien the benefit of the doubt that the gorgeous blond man never truly experienced coffee before, as mind-blowing a concept as that is.

“They are beans? That are roasted and ground?” Lucien repeats, genuinely intrigued and curious. That certainly explains the subtle smoke, but perhaps the other intricacies are simply part of the coffee’s inherent characteristics? “And… brewed? Like tea, perhaps?” He recognizes the concept, but does not know how that is applied to coffee. Sounds plausible, at least to the ancient viscount anyway, but what did he know? Milo hums thoughtfully before laying his hand flat horizontally midair and teetering it back and forth.

“Somewhat, but rather than a pouch of the ground beans going into the cup, a filter full of the grounds is suspended over the cup, or pitcher in the case of the coffee house, and hot water is slowly poured into the filter. The flavored water steeped with coffee trickles out of the filter with none of the ground beans.” He tries his best to explain and slumps his shoulders in relief when Lucien finally nods in understanding. At last, they make their way to the counter, where Milo orders two simple lattes, something easy, not too crazy, and quick for the baristas to whip up. In a matter of moments, the college student leads them both to a somewhat dimmer table away from the majority of the light and sound. Lucien seems to relax a little as he sits down across from Milo, now curiously inspecting the cup placed before him. He watches Milo take a sip from the plastic lid atop the cup and sighs contently. “Not too bad, if I do say so myself.” Milo remarks. While he prefers to make it himself at home with his specific coffee and cream, he still enjoys the simple warm latte in his hands.

Only after hearing Milo’s comment does Lucien finally decide to try it for himself. He mimicks the same motions that he saw and soon tastes something very similar to the wonderful aroma around them, with a little bit of cow’s milk to lighten up the bitterness. Lucien hums thoughtfully with his brows raised in pleasant surprise. However, after a few quiet moments, the blond glances down at the cup in mild confusion. A slight perplexed frown curls his lips downward as his brows then furrow to further express this lack of understanding.

“Is something wrong? Do you not like it?” Milo asks, absently reaching over to place his hand atop Lucien’s. His warm fingertips brush against shockingly cold knuckles before the “vampire” looks over to him and actually registers the question. Lucien smiles apologetically and shakes his head.

“That is not it, Milo. I enjoy it, more so than I initially anticipated I would. However, I do not feel that… feel what you called it last night…” He glances back down at the cup with another confused and disappointed frown. Milo stares dumbfounded for a moment. Was Lucien upset that he didn’t feel the “hug in a mug” that Milo jokingly referred to the previous night? Although he really meant it in jest, the only time Milo feels anything remotely like that is when he makes it himself… and shares it with someone else, like TT or maybe--

“I’m sorry that it doesn’t live up to the expectations I might have accidentally set with my words.” Milo chuckles sheepishly and scratches the back of his head right as a thought dawns on him. “How about I make it up to you tomorrow night, if you’re still free? I have an idea about how to get you your hug in a mug~” Milo beams brightly, actually somewhat proud of this new plan, despite having come up with it less than two minutes ago.

“You do not have to ‘make it up to me,’ Milo. I told you I am enjoying this. But if you still wish to do so, yes, I am ‘free’ tomorrow for whatever you may be scheming.” Lucien responds with a bemused hum as he takes another sip of his coffee.

“Great! It’s a date then, again.” Milo chuckles with a wide grin as he, too, resumes drinking his latte.

Time ticks by slowly as Milo stands near the entrance to the large, well kept, city park: half commonplace park with benches, sparse trees, and a playground, and half partially tamed forest for those who appreciated the wilderness but seldom traveled far enough to actually see it otherwise. Lucien once told him that shapeshifters and werewolves felt more at home there, but Milo doubts that, much like the whole ‘vampire’ thing. Speaking of Lucien, where is that French speaking--

Right as the college student looks around, a vaguely familiar fancy sports car pulls up right next to the curb. The passenger’s side opens, and out steps that drop dead gorgeous man who inexplicably agreed to not one, but two dates with Milo. The young man beams brightly and waves, walking closer to the blond beauty as soon as the car peels off back down the road.

“I apologize for my tardiness… I had to wait for Gregoire to finish a business meeting. I did not wish to inconvenience him more than I probably do.” Lucien explains with an apologetic smile as Milo finally reaches him, although the college student blinks a couple times in confusion before looking down at his watch. A minute. Lucien was upset about being one minute late? It takes everything within Milo not to laugh, considering how sincere Lucien felt about his apology.

“It is alright Lucien, I haven’t been waiting long at all. Shall we?” Milo beans and starts walking toward the park entrance again, but not before something icy envelops his hand. He blinks in confusion as he looks down to find Lucien’s fingers intertwined with his own. His cheeks spontaneously radiate head, and probably turn a nice shade of pink or red by now. However, he says nothing about it and simply gives the “vampire’s” hand a light squeeze before searching for the perfect spot for an impromptu nighttime coffee picnic. It doesn’t take long for him to find a nice clear patch with an amazing view of the stars overhead. Only then does he slide the duffel bag from his shoulder, and unzips it to pull out a simple quilted blanket given to him several christmases ago, by some relative or another. He lays it out flat and sits down, patting the spot next to him to encourage the very confused Lucien to sit down. After he does this, Milo pulls out the other items in his bag: two coffee cups and a tall steel insulated thermos. He hands one of the cups to Lucien and sets the other in his own lap for the moment while opening up the thermos.

“I think I might have it all figured out: it wasn’t made by someone you care for, and who cares for you in return. I made this one, so hopefully this will do the trick.” Milo beams while carefully pouring the steaming hot liquid into Lucien’s mug. He moves on to pour his own as he spots the older man sniffing the contents of the cup and humming thoughtfully. Milo cannot contain the soft chuckle escaping his lips while he recaps the thermos. “Go ahead, it’s not going to bite or anything.” Milo urges with a light tease and another laugh, cradling his much in both hands.

“I never said that it would. I was merely waiting for you, that is all.” Lucien smiles gently before finally bringing the rim of the cup to his lips. He takes a sip and his eyes widen with surprise and delight. As he pulls the cup back, an elated smile brightens his face and the ‘viscount’ nods to himself. “Yes, this is it. This must be what you were referring to: so warm, but not painfully hot. It is… comforting. About the only thing that could compare is an actual hug, no?” He turns towards Milo, who was all smiles and flushed cheeks. The college student carefully sets his coffee up down with a thoughtful hum.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out~” ~End~