#I was just hoping to wait 5 more days when the weather gets really cold

[roylustang]

My body is a fucking mess help me

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope (Part 2/5)

(part 1) (part 3)

The next time you go hunting, the Bahrs go with you.

“It’s really fine,” you protest. It’s early enough in the morning that the air carries a bite. With any luck, they’ll think the redness in your cheeks comes from the chill rather than embarrassment. “I’m not even going far in. It’s Hera’s birthday coming up and she likes squirrel…”

“You’re going to catch a squirrel without a blade?” Mr. Bahr – Ivan – asks. He tightens the strap on Mrs. Bahr’s back, making sure the quiver of arrows is snug along her spine. He pats her shoulder when he finishes and beams at you. “Are you very fast?”

Yes, you are. You’ve noticed that you’re even faster lately as your 15th birthday marches closer and closer. You purse your lips. “I set traps.”

“Don’t mind him, Isla,” Mrs. Bahr -Marie -  says. She fondly shoves Ivan off the porch of the orphanage so she can get down. “He’s always joking.”

“What sort of traps?” Ivan asks. He runs a critical eye over your coat and pack. “Will that be warm enough?”

You’re not sure if your coat is warm enough for the weather or not. Another rising power: you’re nearly impervious to the cold. You shrug. “I’ll be fine. And just simple snares and stuff.”

“We can’t wait to see,” Ivan declares. He gestures towards the road. “Lead the way.”

You bite your lip. It’s clear that they knew you were going hunting today by their garb. Both are in sturdy, worn leather with swords on their hips and bows along their backs. They probably heard from Director Sarah and came specifically to make sure you kept your promise not to hunt alone. But… “The other kids will be sorry they missed you.”

“We’ll see them when we return victorious with birthday squirrels,” Ivan says.

“What a sentence,” Marie says dryly.

You aren’t going to convince them to let you go alone. You silently lead the way towards the orchard. Or, rather, as silently as you can. Ivan talks the whole time, asking questions about the apple trees and pointing to ducks flying overhead. You answer the questions you know the answer to and hum whenever you don’t. You wish you knew more about the vegetation, but the most you can tell Ivan is whether or not something is poisonous.

“Those ones,” you say, nodding to the low, circular leaves Mr. Bahr is pointing to, “are tricky. The real ones taste kind of sweet. The other kind that looks like that makes your stomach cramp for three days straight.”

“How can you tell the difference?” Ivan asks.

You shrug. “You can’t. I just tell the younger kids to bring it to me before eating it. Usually, I trade it for something actually edible.”

Marie, trailing behind you both, makes a noise of interest. “Usually?”

You feel your ears go hot. “Sometimes I’ll try it for them just to see if they can eat it. I’ve had enough of the bad one that it doesn’t affect me so much.”

“You try it?” Marie’s voice is sharp. “Isla, there has to be a better way.”

“Not really,” you say. You scratch the back of your head and quicken your step. You’re almost to the tree line of the woods. “The kids like sweet things. If I didn’t give in occasionally, they’d try it themselves. At least this way they check in with me first.”

“I still don’t think—”

“Sounds like Marie and I’ll be bringing some sweets along with us next time,” Ivan interrupts cheerfully. He points past the last apple tree about a dozen feet ahead. “Looks like the path ends there?”

“There’s an animal track about ten feet into the woods,” you say. You’re uncomfortable with Marie’s reaction. You know it’s not smart to eat poisonous plants, but what else were you supposed to do? Your worst fear is that the kids will one day get hungry enough to eat them without caring about the pain. Your shoulders round. “We’ll need to be quiet once we’re there.”

“I’m the best at being quiet,” Ivan says. He elbows Marie. “Right, Marie?”

“Right,” Marie says. Her voice is still a little strained, but you can tell she’s trying to hide it. “That’s why I married you.”

“That’s a lie,” Ivan says. He stage-whispers to you, “She married me for my amazingly dashing good looks.”

Marie huffs a laugh but doesn’t say anything else. You’ve entered the forest.

You were worried on the way that you’d need to tell Ivan that he needs to be quiet in the forest. You needn’t have been concerned. Both adults are silent and walk with quiet steps, their dark eyes alert on their surroundings. They move through the undergrowth gracefully, their years of experience showing in every step. You try to copy Marie’s soft footfalls as best you can and are pleased when your steps get a little quieter.

The Bahrs watch as you pick places for your traps. Ivan silently points to one of your knots, eyebrow raised. Guessing what he’s asking, you undo the knot and then redo it slowly. He nods in satisfaction and then gestures for you to give him the rope. Curiously, you do. Ivan completes the same knot, fingers steady through each step. When he’s done, he presents it to you proudly as if to say, See? I did it!

It makes you do something you very rarely do in the woods. You smile.

After setting the traps you take the Bahrs to your favorite resting spot. The clearing lies just by the edge of the shallow part of the river. About a mile downstream the banks widen and the North River joins this one, making it a dangerous place of rapids. Here, however, the water moves slowly and is shallow enough to be warmed by the sun.

Finally, you speak. “Shouldn’t be too long. Maybe an hour or two and then we can go check on them.”

“Is this where you found the horned rabbit?” Marie asks. You sit on a large, flat rock by the river, but she stays standing. Her eyes carefully scan the perimeter of the clearing.

“Not quite. That was near the hills.” You point. “Fifteen minutes that way.”

“That’s close,” Ivan says. He frowns, concerned. “Was that the first demon you’ve seen here?”

“No.” When the Bahrs turn to you in alarm, you shrug. “Not all the time, but demons come here. They’re usually not interested in me though.”

“But the horned rabbit was?” Marie asks.

Interested is an understatement. You’re not an idiot. You know that demons are dangerous. That’s why you usually avoid them when you spot them. Normally they’re content to let you pass by, but not the horned rabbit. It followed you nearly all the way back to the orchard before you realized you needed to do something before it attacked you. “Yeah.”

“What other types of demons do you see here?” Ivan asks. His voice is light, but he’s looking at you with a very serious expression. “Maybe howling bats?”

“I hear them sometimes,” you say, “but I don’t stick around after dark.” Ivan and Marie exchange dark looks. You fidget on the rock. “What?”

“This is protected land, Isla,” Marie says. She purses her lips. “No demons should be south of those hills.”

“What other types have you seen?” Ivan asks again. He comes to squat by you so he can look you in the eyes. “And when?”

“Just horned rabbits.”

“Are you sure?” Marie asks. She runs a hand over her hair, slicking back the fly aways. “Horned rabbits aren’t usually sighted alone.”

You hesitate. It’s true that the horned rabbits are the only demons you’ve seen, but… “There have been some signs lately, but I don’t know if they’re demons.”

Ivan’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“Wolves,” you say. Both Bahrs stiffen, hands going to their swords. You speak quickly. “But I’ve never seen them! They might be regular wolves. I found the tracks at the base of the hill, and some bones, but they were a week old probably.”

“We’ll need to ask the Lord to investigate,” Marie tells Ivan. She looks deeply unhappy. “The patrol doesn’t cover this far south.”

“An oversight,” Ivan says grimly. He reaches out absently and ruffles your hair. It startles you, but it feels nice. Ivan makes an effort to smile at you. “Good eyes, Isla. Is there anything else you’ve noticed changing in the forest lately? Even something not demon related?”

Something funny is happening in your chest. Good eyes, Isla. You wrack your brain for anything else. “I haven’t seen any other tracks or anything and there’s only been four or five horned rabbits this season.”

Marie makes a small noise in her throat. When you turn to look at her, she hides whatever expression she’d been making. “That’s a lot. Did you need to use your sharp stick on all of them?”

Ivan startles. “Sharp stick?”

You rub the back of you neck. “Just two.” You look up at the sky. You only had a sharp stick that day, but there are times when you’ve come out here with a knife. Knife days are for when you’re looking for bigger game.  “I’ve been pretty lucky hunting lately, now that I think about it. There’s been more deer and regular rabbits south of the river.”

“What do you mean ‘lately?’”

“The past month.”

Ivan and Marie exchange another long look. Before you can ask them what’s wrong, Ivan turns to you with another smile.

“Say,” he says, “what do you think about trying to bag something bigger than a squirrel today? You ever fire a bow before?”

Your eyes widen. “No.”

“You can use mine,” Marie says, pulling it from her shoulder. She holds it out to you. “We’re nearly the same height. The draw may be a bit heavy for you—or not.”

Embarrassed by the shock in her voice, you release the string. “I’m, uh, stronger than I look.”

“Good,” Ivan says. “That’ll make it easier to actually catch something today.”

The next few hours are the most fun you’ve ever had in the woods. Marie and Ivan go over every part of the bow with you, explaining the weight of it, the flexibility, the length. Marie and Ivan carry several different types of arrows with different tips, all good for different types of shooting. They let you practice on a tree across the river and each time you’re closer to hitting the center of it, they compliment how fast you’re learning, how accurate your eye, how steady and consistent your draw.

By the time they let you hunt with it, you feel like you’re walking on clouds.

The feeling lasts even after you return to the orphanage, a deer slung over Marie’s shoulders and your hands full of squirrel. There’s a pleasant ache in your back and arms from practicing with the bow. You can’t stop smiling. Everything Ivan says is out of the blue and Marie’s tired responses make it all funny.

At one point you’re walking behind them, watching their shoulders brush when the path gets a little too narrow. They’re smiling at each other and talking softly and for a wild, wonderful, awful moment, you imagine that you can keep this. You aren’t sure what this is. Their attention and their companionship, their gentle guidance and the way they speak to you like you’re an adult?

After Hera’s birthday dinner, the Bahrs stay extra late to help clean up and to spend time with the younger kids. You are still feeling a sort of bone deep happiness you’ve never felt before. Everyone is full and sleepy-eyed from the amount of food you were able to put on the table. The kids gather around their slates in the common area, learning a new type of drawing game from Ivan and Marie.

Hera comes up to where you’re leaning on the doorway. Quietly, she slips her hand into yours. You squeeze it.

“Thanks for the squirrel,” she says quietly.

You lean down and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy Birthday.”

She hums and watches the fun in the living room for a long moment. She’s eleven now, three years older than you were that Winter. She’s the second oldest in the orphanage and, for the first time, you wonder if she feels the same sort of responsibility as you.

“I’m happy for you, you know,” Hera says.

You make a low questioning noise in your throat.

“The Bahrs will be good to you,” Hera says. She looks up at you evenly, a small smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “You deserve that, Isla.”

Every muscle in your chest locks, chasing away the pleasant languidness you’d been feeling. “That’s not—they’re not—”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Hera says. She stands on tiptoe so she can throw her arms around your shoulders, hugging you like she did when she was five. She whispers in your ear, “But I would be happy if they did.”

She lets go of you before you can tell her she’s being ridiculous, skipping into the room to join the drawing game.

You feel out of sorts for the rest of the night.

-----------------------.

(part 1) (part 3)

Thanks for reading! The full story is already posted on my Patreon (X)! If you'd like to support me, please consider checking out my page!

This month will be seeing two main things update on Patreon first: Dandelion (x) and my Cinderella story (masterpost coming soon!) updates for both coming later this week!

[kurogane2512]

hear me out but gamer fem!reader x Ningguang HHEHEHE so as Ningguang finishes her work in her office she enters your room to see you on your phone wearing nothing but a hoodie and underwear. She then comes between your legs then starts eating you out while you play on your phone but you start to get distracted with the amount of pleasure your feeling. HEHEH

As a gamer myself, it's literally my dream to have a rich ceo sugar mommy-esque gf or wife like Ningguang cause NGHHHH WHAT I WOULDN'T DO FOR HER 😩😩 Scenarios like this get me weak goddammit where is my Ningguang!! 😤

NSFW AHEAD | Ningguang x gamer!fem!reader

Ningguang let out an exhausted sigh as she stretched her arms and body after working all day. She looked at the clock and noted it was close to midnight, pondering over what her girlfriend might be doing. She knew you wouldn't sleep yet, and she honestly had an idea of what you might be up to. She came out of her room and went to the living room and as expected, there you were seated on the sofa with your console on, controller in hand and headphones on your ears.

She softly chuckled watching you vigorously press and move the buttons while hissing and shouting different commands in the mic, realizing you were probably on call with some of your online friends. She looked at the TV screen and noted you were playing one of your favorite games, some kind of shooter game. Ningguang didn't have much knowledge of different games, but she had come to observe the ones you played and tried to research about them.

She made her way to the couch and sat beside you. You were too engrossed to notice her come in but realized it when she sat beside you, giving her a glance with a smile. You then quickly leaned towards her and pecked her lips, catching her off guard as she didn't expect you to do that. But she couldn't feel more loved. You then went back to playing your game and didn't pay her much heed, but being aware of her presence.

Ningguang smiled and looked at you from head to toe, noting how scantily you were dressed. Really? Just a hoodie and underwear? Tsk tsk, how careless of you in this cold weather. She was tempted to bring some clothes for you but she knew better than to interrupt your game; not to mention, it was already quite late and you could just sleep in them.

"To the right to the right! Dammit, move!" you shouted as your fingers impatiently glided over the buttons, your body moving back n forth in excitement and anxiety. Ningguang lovingly gazed at you while resting back on the sofa, occasionally looking at the screen and watching you play. She waited for a while until she had some.... mischievous ideas.

She moved closer and kept her hand on your thigh after you had calmed down a little and were playing normally, you felt her touch but didn't look at her and continued playing. You felt her palm caress your skin gradually, languidly sliding up and down and tracing patterns on it until she suddenly cupped your face and kissed your cheek.

You blushed and looked at her briefly with a smile and pecked her lips like before, but that was seemingly not enough for her. She wrapped her arms around your neck and embraced you from the side, planting more kisses on your face and neck and practically leaning into you. You shivered and tried to focus on the game, hoping to finish this one match then talk to your apparently needy girlfriend.

"N-Ning, just give me 5 minutes I'll— mhm~" you stifled a moan as she bit your collarbone and left a hickey.

"Yo, Y/n you alright?" one of your companions asked in your headphone, making you embarrassed.

Ningguang smirked and suddenly kneeled on the floor, spreading your legs and crawling between them. You blushed even more realizing what she was about to do, trying to tell her to wait a little more but she wasn't having it. And frankly, how could you deny your gorgeous girlfriend when she was in this state?

"Yo guys, this is the last arena we gotta get the loot anyhow. Step up your game we can't lose here!" your companion instructed once again, and all you could do was hum in agreement, knowing it would be difficult for you. You looked down at Ningguang between your legs who was busy making more kisses on your inner thighs, shivers going through your body. You removed your headphones so as to prevent your teammates from hearing more noises.

"N-Ning, just one game.... aah... l-let me...."

"Hm? I'm not interrupting you, am I, dear?~"

Ningguang's sultry voice resounded in your ears, her finger brushing past your slit feeling the wetness on it. She had barely touched you, yet you were ready to drip for her.

"My, wearing just your panties in the middle of the night? Such an unsophisticated way to invite me, but I'm quite pleased~"

She pushed aside your underwear and gave a small lick to your clit, your body arching in surprise with a gasp. You almost dropped the controller from your hand but held back, attempting to play to the best of your ability. But that wasn't the end of Ningguang's antics. In no time, another lick was made on your clit followed by her lips wrapping on the bud and sucking it.

Your body writhed in pleasure and you squeezed your thighs together, gritting your teeth to muffle your moans. Ningguang continued by caressing your thighs and plunging her tongue inside your hole, and perhaps that was finally enough for you. You switched off the console and threw the controller away on the sofa then grasped Ningguang's head, gently lacing your fingers in her soft silvery strands.

"Aaahn~ Ning.... please.... ngh~!"

"Oh, what happened? Did you win the game?~"

"I don't care....! Please let me— mmgh~"

Ningguang chuckled, her voice sending vibrations in your core. She pushed your thighs apart more and scissored her tongue inside, your hot and spongy walls squeezing her tongue as she prodded your sensitive spots. Your head shot back as you released with a loud moan, clencing onto her hair to pull her closer. Ningguang drank up your juices and licked you clean before licking her own lips, wiping your essence off them.

"I meant to give this to you as a reward for winning the game, you know?~"

"Haah.... really now? Weren't you just desperate?~"

Ningguang chuckled then straddled your lap and passionately kissed you, your arms wrapping her body and you swiftly placed her on the sofa, pinning her beneath you.

"Well, should I relieve your stress now?~"

[in1-nutshell]

Hi I happy that your open how would the tfa Dino bots react to finding a sparkling Dinobot and becoming attached to glimlock

YYYEEESSS! I love the Dinobots and giving them a child is just perfect!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Dinobot Sparkling with Grimlock, Swoop, and Snarl

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

TFA

Buddy was a robot brought to life from the Allspark.

After the events of the Dinobots, the park still needed something to replace the robots.

The first one they did was a baby Spinosaurus with its mother still in the works.

A fragment of the Allspark had gone into the baby’s frame.

The baby woke up and looked around.

Somehow, they knew they needed their parents and began looking around.

They saw the mother bot being worked on and ran up to it purring into its leg.

 The robot did nothing to respond to the affection.

The baby was confused and tried again.

Nothing.

After a few more times the baby decided to leave.

The ‘mother’ wasn’t doing anything which confused and saddened the baby.

 They saw some cargo boxes and hid there. Maybe the next day would be better.

The box as it turned out would be on a ship that would be passing by Dinobot Island before reaching the next port.

As the ship began turning from the island, one of the straps holding the baby’s box had snapped, and the box ended up falling from the ship and straight into the water.

The baby got scared with the sudden feeling of falling and bobbing up and down with the waves created by the ship.

The box somehow stayed bobbing long enough for it to get semi stuck in the shore’s sandy banks.

The baby, shaken, after the rough tumbling and let out a cry.

It was dark, cold, and they were all alone.

Meanwhile Grimlock had decided to take a walk outside before the storm hit the island.

He liked the feeling of the wind against his armor.

Grimlock minding his own business while walking near the shoreline.

“Wind feels nice. Wind noises nice.”--Grmilock

“WAAAAHHHHHHH!”

“Wind sounding strange today.”--Grimlock

“WWWWAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

“Me Grimlock thinks it not wind. Me Grimlock look for noise!”--Grimlock

He went to go and investigate it.

He got curious when the noise he heard came from a box in the sand.

Grimlock grabbed the box with his mouth and set it down a bit further from the water. With one swipe from his tail, he smashed the inside of the box.

Baby’s helm pokes out.

“You make noise?”--Grimlock

“Chirp?”

“Wait… You Dinobot! Small Dinobot, but still Dinobot!”--Grimlock

BOOOM!

“Big lights—wait where you go?”--Grimlock

Grimlock looks down to see the baby huddled next to his pedes shaking.

“No need to be scared! Big lights are far away! No hurt.”--Grimlock

BAM!

“… That one was closer. Let’s go see Snarl and Swoop.”--Grimlock

“Chirp?”

“You Dinobot. Dinobot’s together strong.”--Grimlock

Grimlock picks up the baby with his mouth and walking back to the cave.

To say that Swoop and Snarl were surprised was an understatement.

Grimlock left for less than 5 minutes and came back with a kid.

Snarl is a bit hostile to the baby, snorting at them.

But Grimlock makes sure that he gets the memo.

Don’t touch the child.

Swoop on the other hand takes a near immediate liking to the baby waddling over to see them.

The baby was chirping up a storm. They liked this a whole lot better than being in the box.

“This new Dinobot.”--Grimlock

“Name?”--Swoop

“Hmmm…”--Grimlock

BAM!

The baby shrieks and hides next to Grimlock’s pedes.

Snarl moves in front of the baby to block out the outside weather and lays down.

Swoop wraps one of his wings over the baby like a blanket.

Baby still shivering in fear.

Grimlock finally curled up around all the Dinobots using his backside to shield them from the outside world.

Baby stops shivering and falls asleep.

“…How about Tiny?”--Grimlock

“Tiny?”--Snarl

“They are really small. Good name.”--Grimlock

“Tiny. Tiny good.”--Swoop

Tiny sneezes a bit before curling closer to Grimlock.

“Good night, Tiny.”--Grimlock

[heli-writes]

Seven summers, part 6.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!reader

Summary: Every summer, Draco and y/n meet. First, by pure coincidence, then intentionally. Unbeknown to Draco, y/n's a muggle who has no clue he's a wizard. With the rise of the dark lord, how long can this go well?

Disclaimers: Make-out session, allusion to sex, no full-on smut (they're still minors, y'all!)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sixth summer, July.

The weather in England has been cold and rainy lately. It doesn't seem to be July at all. Y/n longs for those warm, long summer nights outside in her parents' garden, playing cards and drinking bubbly lemonade. Instead, she's clinging to her umbrella and making herself as small as possible so that she doesn't give the wind too much space to attack her with its whipping water. She's waiting for Draco near the entrance of Diagon Alley. She watched several wizards enter and leave the place, but no Draco so far. Y/n wonders if he will actually show up. They've been exchanging letters via owl, as usual. At the beginning of the school year, Draco's letters have been arriving quite frequently but there were less and less letters the last few months. Y/n knows there's been some arguments with his rival Harry and a new teacher. Draco was appointed a certain position in a Club or something. He didn't really tell her what's it about but ever since he's been more reserved than before.

Y/n waits for almost an hour before she gives up. She walks through the pouring rain back to the bus stop. She stops by a Costa and treats herself to a hot cup of tea on the go in an attempt to warm herself up. On the bus, she plugs in her headphones and stares out of the window. She tries really hard not to cry and hopes that none of the other passengers notice th water dwelling in her eyes. When she gets off the bus, her head's pounding from the oppressing of tears. Y/n walks straight home and up to her room, without taking off her jacket and boots. She can hear her mother complaining about the water on the floor, but she doesn't care. She's just dropped onto her bed when she hears the soft clank of Draco's owl on her window. Y/n gets up and sniffs. This guy has some nerve, she tells herself as she walks up to the window. She takes the letter from the owl and throws some dried meat in its direction, a habit she picked up a while ago. She leans back on a chair and reads.

Dear y/n,

I won't be able to make it today. I'm really sorry but there have been some issues in my family recently and my mother needs my support. I hope the whole situation dissolves itself soon.

I'll send you a letter when it's possible to meet again. I hope you can understand.

Draco.

Y/n folds up the letter and puts it in a box beneath her bed where she keeps all of Draco's letters. She writes a quick response and hands it to the owl who is patiently waiting outside. She watches the owl fly away. I must've just missed his message, y/n thinks. Yet still she can't shake the feeling that something is off.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco lets y/n wait for two weeks. Y/n got antsy with every passing day without hearing from him. Eventually, he sends her a letter and proposes a meeting in Windsor Great Park for a stroll and coffee. Y/n is nervous all morning and has to redo her makeup twice after ruining her eyeliner. Again, y/n is the first to arrive. She walks up and down the entrance of the Savill Garden.

"Hey", she suddenly hears behind her. Draco is standing right next to her with a loopy grin on his face. It doesn't reach his eyes, y/n thinks. She smiles at him nonetheless and opens her arms to hug him. Almost hesitantly, Draco hugs her back. It's a bit awkward. "Do you want to go inside?", y/n says and points to the garden. Draco nods. They take the tourist route but there aren't many other people around. It's probably because of the grey clouds that hang low above their heads. They walk along the path between rows of bushes and other plants.

Draco doesn't make an attempt to start a conversation, so y/n does. "So, how's your family? Everything alright? Your letter sounded quite serious.", y/n asks him. Draco shrugs and doesn't answer immediately. "I guess, we're alright. Things haven't been resolved but it will be ok.", he tells her. Y/n nods reassuringly but she feels that Draco does not really believe that last part. "If you don't mind me asking... what happened?", she asks carefully. Draco kicks a stone out of his way. "My dad has been involved in some stuff. He's temporarily contained.", he tells her. Y/n stares at him with big eyes. "Like jail?", she blurts. Draco gives her an angry look. "Yes. My mother did not take it too well.", he replies. "Oh.", is all that y/n manages to say. They walk in silence for a moment. "What about you? How do you take it?", she asks him. Draco shrugs again and does his best to look somewhere far ahead. "Draco...", y/n mumbles and touches his arm. "I'm fine.", he says harshly, "My mother needs all the support she can get. I can't be weak in a situation like this". Y/n steps a bit closer to him and rests her cheek on his arm while taking his hand. "It's not a weakness to feel bad about a situation like that. It only shows how much you care about your parents.", she tells him. Almost instantly, she can feel Draco's shoulders slump down. He turns to her and finally pulls her close. He hides his face in her hair. "I must do everything I can to clear my family's name. One way or another.", he points out. Y/n thinks about this for a moment. "It's not your responsibility. Support your family as much as you can, but don't let the weight of it pull you down.", she replies. Draco shakes his head. "You don't understand... my mother...", he starts. "...is an adult. We're only sixteen, Draco. There's only so much we can do. Somethings we must let the adults handle.", she points out. Draco shakes his head again. "No, my mother can't handle this. I'm the one who has to fix things. I've been chosen.", he tells her. Y/n frowns. "Chosen? By whom? For what?", she asks him. Draco lets go of her. "It doesn't matter. The point is I'm going to handle this. Don't worry.", he says coldly. Draco walks a bit ahead and y/n stares after him. She's got a really bad feeling about this but it's clear that Draco isn't ready to talk about this.

She jogs after him. "Alright, let's not talk about this anymore. We haven't seen each other since Christmas and I really am happy we're spending time together today.", she announces and gives him a bright smile. She holds out her hand to Draco and looks at him expectantly. Draco sighs and then takes her hand. They continue their stroll and y/n tries to distract Draco with silly stories about school and her friends. She updates him on Olivia's situationship and manages to pry some stories about Blaze and quidditch out of Draco. The atmosphere loosens up a bit and soon she finds Draco genuinely smiling again. They wander deeper into the garden and don't notice how the clouds above them get darker and darker. They're laughing about one of y/n's stories when the first drop landed on y/n's cheek. Draco wipes it away carefully. They look up and notice how armageddon is right above them. Within seconds, it's pouring. Draco pulls her close and uses his wand as an umbrella. However, the wind whips raindrops onto their sides. They rush along the path, deeper into the rows of trees ahead of them. They're almost soaked when they finally find shelter in a stone pavilion.

Y/n is shivering but glad there are still some parts of her that are dry. Draco sits down next to her and puts an arm around her. Y/n nuzzles closer into his side. Draco leans his head against hers. They don't speak and when y/n finally looks up, she immediately meets Draco's gaze. He must've been staring at her for a while now. Immediately, he leans close and they meet in a kiss. For a moment, everything outside the pavilion seems to stop existing. Y/n kisses him back feverishly and grabs his collar. Draco's hand is tangled in her hair and his other hand wanders down her side. Y/n presses her upper body closer to his and Draco pulls her onto his lap. They kiss until they can't breathe anymore. Y/n leans her forehead against his as both of them catch their breath. There are no sounds besides the pouring rain outside.

"Draco?", y/n breathes. "Hm?", he mumbles in response. Y/n's heart leaps in her chest. It takes all her courage to say: "I think I love you". Draco leans back and looks at her with surprise in his eyes. Clearly, he didn't expect a confession of love. Immediately, y/n feels embarrassed. She wishes she could take the words back. "Y-you don't have to say it back. I just thought...", she rumbles but doesn't get to finish her sentence. Draco puts his hand onto the back of her head and pulls her lips against his again. He gives her a deep, longing kiss which leaves y/n breathless once again. When he lets go of her, he looks at her longingly and strokes over her cheek. Then he presses a kiss on top of her head and pulls her into a hug. Y/n feels warm and fuzzy inside and she almost forgets that Draco did not return the confession.

They stay in the pavilion until the heavy rain fades into a soft summer drizzle. Only then, they start wandering back to the entrance of the garden. They part ways rather quickly since the rain started again after some point. However, y/n proposes that he should come visit her soon. Her parents will be visiting her grandparents all the way up in Keswick and will be gone for a couple of days. They put y/n under house arrest for the time being (considering what happened last year), but allowed to have a friend over. They probably thought about Olivia but when y/n asked her, Olivia immediately declined saying that y/n simply must invite Draco. Draco is a bit hesitant to accept the invitation and says that he will have to see how things at home. They both decide to write soon.

On her way back to the train station, y/n has mixed feelings. On one hand she's over the moon about meeting Draco finally again, on the other hand, she's also worried about him. Having a father in jail is already troubling but it sounded as if Draco was ready to do anything to fix that. She wonders if that included more than giving a testimony in front of a court. One way or another, he said. She hopes Draco is smart enough to not do anything stupid, or illegal.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sixth summer, a few weeks later.

Anxious. That's how y/n feels as she waits for Draco at King's Cross. Y/n and Draco have been writing back and forth for the last couple of weeks. Draco's been really quiet about his father's situation and y/n didn't push too much. However, whenever y/n brought up Draco coming over, he kept saying it probably wouldn't be possible and that too many things were going on. Which clearly indicates that things haven't been resolved. Surprisingly, Draco sent her a letter a few days ago saying that meeting her would be possible after all. Apparently, his mother and his aunt visit a family friend, giving him a chance to slip away. When y/n got Draco's letter saying that he would be visiting after all, she immediately called Olivia who immediately rushed over. Giggling, they wrote lists and prepared the house for what y/n's parents assumed was a sleepover. It also leads to her parents being quite relaxed about leaving y/n alone for a few days.

Right now, y/n is waiting for Draco to arrive at King's Cross. Obviously, Draco does not take a muggle train. He arrives via floo powder somewhere close but they agreed to meet at the station from where y/n would take him home. Y/n nervously scans the crowd in front of her. Suddenly, she feels a tap on her shoulder. "Hey, there pretty girl.", she hears Draco say behind her. When she twirls around, he is mere inches from her face. "Draco!", she laughs and throws her arms around him. Draco almost drops his bag while trying to keep his balance. Y/n quickly retreats. "Sorry!", she says. Draco puts down his bag. "That's alright.", he tells her and pulls her close by her arms. He hugs her close and hides his face in her hair. Y/n's heart skips a beat. When he lets go of her, he looks over his shoulder nervously. Distractedly, he says: "So, uh... is your house close by?". Y/n tries to see what's behind him or what he's looking for but when he turns back to her, she gives him a bright smile. "We'll have to take the bus.", she tells him and takes his hand. Draco sighs behind her. "You don't happen to have a fireplace, do you?", he mumbles. Y/n laughs. "No, sorry! We have central heating.", she says as she pulls him along with him.

While Draco feels visibly nervous in the station, he relaxes once y/n and him have entered the bus. When y/n asks him why, he tells her that there are probably no wizards here who could see them. Y/n nods understandingly. It's a short walk from the bus station to y/n's house. Her house is one of these terraced houses with white, wooden windows and a small front garden. It's nothing special really but her parents had to save up for it for quite some time and they're really proud to call themselves 'homeowners'. Y/n thinks it's a bit ridiculous but then again she's never bought a house and doesn't even know how much it would cost. Y/n pulls out her keys and opens the door.

She holds the door for Draco. "Ladies first. You can put your shoes over there.", she tells him as she quickly pushes him inside. Ever since they made a turn into y/n's street, she's been the one looking over her shoulder. Can't have the neighbours see her sneaking a boy in. She's pretty sure that the nosy old lady from across the street would just love to tell her parents all about that. Y/n quickly closes the door behind her and pulls off her jacket. Draco is standing in the hallway looking around and feeling a bit out of place. Y/n points past him. "Go on, straight through that door. There's the kitchen", she tells him. They enter the kitchen together and y/n quickly puts the kettle on. "C'mon.", she tells him and leads him to the room to the right. It's the living room which has a small conservatory attached to it. It's her mother's favorite room since it's always bright and open. In the middle, there's a large couch with pillows and blankets. On the left is the telly and a coffee table. "It's cozy", Draco notes as y/n leads him to the coach. "Sit down. I'll make the tea.", she tells him as she rushes off back to the kitchen.

She prepares a tray with tea, mugs and some biscuits. When she enters the living room again, Draco still sits in the same position as she left him. I guess he feels a bit awkward, she concludes. After she pours him a cup of tea, she asks him: "So, what do you think? Is this how you imagined muggles to live like?". Draco laughs and rubs his head in embarrassment. "Actually, I'm not sure what I expected. But it's really nice. I like this room.", he says and points to the conservatory. Y/n pulls one of her legs under the other and takes her tea cup. "Hm, you really had no image in your head how I live like?", she asks. Draco shakes his head. "How do you imagine I live like then?", he replies. Y/n thinks about that for a moment. "I guess I imagine a big house, maybe a villa. An old one, maybe Victorian? I imagine a big staircase right when you enter. Old, but classic and high-quality furniture.", she explains. Draco looks at her surprised. "That's actually not that far off.", he tells her. "I can't imagine your room though. I feel like I can imagine your dorm room better than your room at home.", she says. Draco takes a sip from his tea. "Do you want me to describe it?", he asks her. Y/n nods excitedly. He crooks his head. "Let's see. My room is upstairs, in the East Wing. It has a window facing the East as well so that I can see the sunrise every morning. My walls are painted in a greyish-blue. My furniture is black. When you enter the room, you're standing in front of my bed. Opposite the bed is the window and in front of it is my desk. To the left of the desk, is my wardrobe which is always messy and to the right are some shelves with books.", he describes. Y/n tries to imagine the room. In her head, the room is kind of empty besides the furniture Draco described. "Is there anything else in the room?", she asks. Draco names some quidditch equipment and some other tokens that y/n has trouble imagining. Draco tried to explain quidditch to her one time but y/n fails to truly understand the game. Probably, because she's never seen a person riding a broom.

"Would you like to see my room?", y/n proposes and Draco nods. They walk back to the hallway and up the stairs that are on the left. "My room is all the way up, beneath the roof.", she tells him as they climb up the stairs. Y/n's room is the only room on the last floor. When she opens the room, there's her bed to the left and behind the door is her closet. Right in front of the door are three windows. In front of the middle one, is her desk. On the left is a little reading niche and on the right is a dressing table and a cupboard. A chain of lights is strung from one side of the room towards another. Y/n makes some space for Draco to enter. He looks around the room in silence. "So, what do you think?", she asks. "It suits you. I don't know how I'd imagine your room but this fits you perfectly.", he tells her. Y/n giggles and drops onto her bed. "You think so?", she says. Draco nods and turns around in her room before joining her on the bed. Y/n thinks the sight of him in her room is a bit strange. Like he doesn't quite fit into it. He's dressed in black (like always) and her room is dominated by beige and pastel tones. "Yeah, it's bright and warm. And girly. And cozy.", he replies. Y/n snuggles up to him. "You like it?", she asks him. Draco pulls her closer to him. "Yes. Actually, I like your whole house. Everything is very home-ly.", he murmurs and kisses the top of her head. He pulls her back and they fall on top of the comforter of y/n's bed. Draco turns to his side, pulling her closer to him. Y/n takes in his scent and puts her head on his chest, just beneath his head. Draco's hand finds its way into y/n's hair and he scratches the skin of her skull a bit. Y/n feels how the three magical words lay heavy on her tongue again, begging her to speak them out loud once more. She swallows them down quickly, however. She doesn't want to make a fool out of herself once again.

They lay there for a while and y/n is not sure whether or not she may have dozed off a bit. The room's colour faded to grey indicating that the sun was about to go down. Draco stretches next to her and sits up. "Are you hungry?", y/n asks him. Draco shrugs but y/n knows him well enough that that means yes. They end up ordering pizza and watching y/n's favourite movie. Setting up the telly, Draco is fascinated by the technology and asks a bunch of questions about how it works without magic which y/n definitely can't answer. She lets Draco choose a movie afterwards and they spend the evening rotting on the couch. Eventually, the titles roll and y/n sits up stretching. She peeks over to Draco whose eyes are closed. Did he really fall asleep?, she thinks and pokes his cheek. He wrinkles his nose and opens an eye. "Sleepy? Wanna settle for the night?", y/n asks and Draco yawns and nods. They get up and climb up the stairs to y/n's room. After brushing their teeth, they climb into y/n's bed and Draco pulls her close. Y/n leans her head against his and lets her hand rest on his chest. Draco gently strokes over her back and places soft kisses on her forehead, her cheeks and her nose. Y/n crooks her head and meets him in a soft kiss. It's slow and sweet. Draco puts his hand into her hair and pulls her face closer to him, deepening the kiss. Y/n's heart starts beating faster. They kiss like this for a bit until Draco rolls her over so that y/n lays flat on her back. Draco hovers over her while continuing to kiss her. Y/n puts her hands behind his neck and one of Draco's hands runs up and down her sides. Y/n feels goosebumps forming all over her body. Draco's hand finds the hem of her shirt. His fingers dip under it, softly circling the skin of her hip. He leans his head back for a moment. "Is this okay with you?", he asks. Y/n nods breathlessly, not trusting her voice to say yes. She's expected it to happen tonight. Hell, she kinda hoped it would. Draco pushes his hand under her shirt exploring the warm, naked skin underneath it. Y/n lets her hands run down his back and pulls his shirt up a bit. Draco sits up for a moment and pulls it over his head. Y/n stares up at him in awe. He looks even more pale than usual with the moonlight hitting his skin the way it does at this moment. She sits up a bit and runs her hand down his chest. Draco gently pulls on the neckline of her shirt, silently asking for permission to take it off as well. Y/n swallows. She's nervous. "We don't-", Draco starts but y/n cuts him off by pulling her shirt off as well. Draco doesn't say or do anything for a few seconds. Then he slowly traces a line from her shoulder over her collarbone down to her chest. He leans forward again, kissing her deeply while finally cupping her chest with his hand. Y/n lets herself fall back on the pillow.

She won't worry about anything tonight. Not about her parents or Draco's parents. About whether or not a wizard and a muggle can be together. By the time Draco's hands wander down to her pants, she has forgotten about most of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[starrysamu]

✦ you and nanami have been working side by side for three years now. when nanami brings his son to work with him one day, it changes the entire trajectory of your relationship in only 24 hours.

✦ nanami kento x f!reader

✦ word count: 1.9k

✦ warnings: none.

contents. | 3. | 4. | 5.

previously.

“he really likes exercise equipment, but he’s too small to use them, especially the elliptical that we have at home. i’m afraid he’s going to hurt himself. instead, we go to the park when we can so he can play. he likes spending time with his friends there. he likes it when i cook dinners for him, which is most nights. he hates vegetables, and i’ve heard it’s common for kids his age but it’s been really tough to get them in him. sometimes - ”

he stops abruptly and blinks at you. you blink back. 

“sometimes?” you urge quietly. your hands are folded on your lap and your chest is pressed against the edge of the table. 

he clears his throat. “ah, i lost my train of thought.” 

you smile, knowing full well there’s no way a man like him just “lost his train of thought.” 

you’ll give it time, though, because this time it’s different. this time, you’re willing to wait.

chapter 4

“another friday, another yuto, hm?” 

“another?” yuto yells disbelievingly. “there’s another yuto?” 

nanami shushes him. truly, it was just another day of figuring out how to phrase things to a small child.

“no, no, that’s not what i meant - i’d like to call a lifeline to help explain to yuto that he’s the only yuto for me, and i simply meant that - ”

“another friday, another nanny not available,” nanami mumbles monotonously. his voice - low and deep and rich like velvet - incites a completely inappropriate response from you. 

you frown, masking the tugging in your stomach with unamusement. “you’re the worst lifeline.” 

nanami turns to look at you point-blank, hands folding over his abdomen. 

your frown deepens when he doesn’t say anything. 

“what?” 

he draws in a deep sigh before turning back to yuto. “you know the drill. i’ll get you that mango custard today.” 

nanami probably broke his back trying to find someone to look after yuto. the sharpness of his eyes have softened, already weathered down from the morning. 

“mango custard?” you wiggle your eyebrows, leaning back to get a good look at yuto. “the dessert game keeps getting upped.” 

“i lo-ove mango,” yuto declares with his entire chest. “but i think dad likes it more. we also like strawberry. we like cake. cake is so good, like especially the cake with the little strawberry pieces in the middle of the slice -” 

“yuto, i think she knows what cake is.” 

nanami grunts as he leans over to pull yuto’s jacket around him, zipping it up to the very top. you grin at the sight: a sky blue marshmallow. 

“very flattering,” you gush. you feel like one of those aunties that’ll come up to him in 10 years and ask, ‘do you remember me?’ when there’s no way in hell he would remember you from such a young age. 

“look at all that extra padding. i think you’re ready for your first sports game.” this time, you wiggle your brows at nanami. 

yuto is not paying attention to you. yuto is actually quite upset that he’s got this suffocating jacket on him. he hangs his head back exasperatedly, letting out a long groan. 

“don’t make that face,” nanami murmurs. “it’s cold in the office today.” 

yuto starts to flop his arms and legs around like a fish. the chair wobbles, swiveling to the side pitifully. nanami reaches for the armrest to stop it from spinning and you watch, partly in awe with how the office chair practically consumes yuto whole. once he’s sure yuto’s giving up the resistance, nanami turns back to his computer. 

you try not to stare at nanami. you’ve always been drawn to his sharp features, but you think something else tugs at you now - pity, maybe? just thinking it fills you with dread. you hope it airs along the lines of longing, sympathy, even. 

he’s working with pinched eyebrows and the softest, most exasperated sighs - a large contrast from stoicism and silence. your chest tightens. 

you cross one leg over the other and swallow. “is there anything i can help you with today?” 

you can’t recall the last time you asked him that. you remember asking religiously during the first two quarters of working at the company, back when you were fresh-faced and impossibly ambitious - and back when he was simply polite and efficient enough to always say ‘no thank you.’ 

out of the corner of your eye, you catch yuto slouching defeatedly in his chair. 

would you have acted differently had you known? should you have tried harder to extend yourself? 

does this … does yuto change things? 

it shouldn’t. you don’t think it does, at least. 

you frown to yourself. you’re still contemplating it when he murmurs, “i think we just need to finish making the presentation for tomorrow.” 

your lips almost part. almost. 

“i might need some help with yuto,” he admits, eyes trained on the file on his computer. “he was a little … apprehensive about coming with me today.” 

this might be the longest response you’ve ever gotten to that question, much less to any of your other questions. 

“yeah, sure, anything,” you nod quickly, smiling at yuto. “really? who would’ve guessed he hates coming here? i thought this was the funnest place on the planet.” 

yuto scrunches his nose. “dad said funnest isn’t a word.” 

“he’s right, kiddo.” 

“then why’d you say it?” 

“for fun.” 

you lean over and drag his chair to sit in the middle of you and nanami. 

nanami looks at you before looking at yuto. when he looks at you once again, you tilt your head to the side. what? 

he shakes his head and turns back to his computer. 

it’s almost embarrassing how your back pops when you reach your hands up to the ceiling and wiggle your fingers. you sigh out in relief and slump forward. 

it’s friday. it’s friday. it’s friday, it’s friday, it’s friday. 

“do you have the excel sheet from the sukuna account?” 

you’re sensing a foreign invader. your eyes narrow. you’re like a white blood cell, and gojo satoru is a pathogen - a threat to your peace and serenity in the workplace. 

“ah, hello, dear, sweet gojo. the bane of my existence.” 

“how charming.” gojo grins. “happy to be of service.” 

“shut up,” a new voice says. “stop bothering her. i need to bother her. and him. both of them.” 

you smile tersely. “ah, hello, dear, sweet utahime. currently the other bane of my existence.” 

“i’m happy to take over the role from gojo,” she says curtly, passing a file to you. “i need you to look through this before i submit it for approval.” 

“must i?” you ask, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead and tilting back dramatically.  

while you’re busy brooding over extra work, gojo comes around to pick yuto up. 

yuto giggles when gojo holds him up like simba. he circles around in his spot, yuto still suspended in air. “everyone praise king yuto. king yuto, we thank you for gracing our presence today - ”

nanami doesn’t shift, doesn’t twitch, doesn’t budge a single muscle. he doesn’t watch gojo swing his child around, he doesn’t ask gojo to put him back down. 

full, unadulterated trust. 

doubt creeps in. you remind yourself you haven’t known him for that long, you suppose. what’s it going to take to get there, though?   

you watch quietly, gnawing on your lip. 

“stop bothering everyone,” utahime hisses, tugging on gojo’s collar. “hi, yuto,” she coos, taking him from gojo. “you’ve gotten so big. do you remember aunty utahime? i haven’t seen you in so long. how’s work going today?” 

yuto sighs dramatically. it’s obvious he doesn’t remember her, but he’s itching to complain. “work is so bo-oring. i think dad and i should go to the park every day instead.” 

gojo ruffles his hair. “sorry kid, this is what life’s all about. luckily, you got a rich dad and … ” he looks to you, “an entertaining friend over here, so you’re basically set for life.” 

“entertaining?” you parrot, scrunching your nose. it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

“derogatory,” gojo clarifies. 

“how sweet.”

utahime sets yuto back down in his seat. “anyways, just look over that when you can,” she says to you and nanami. 

“yeah, and the sukuna account,” gojo tacks on. “you guys are the best. just awesome. amazing people. great coworkers. keep up the great work.” 

you press your palms to your eyes and lean back in your seat. “i think i’m gonna have to go into overtime,” you groan, once gojo and utahime are out of earshot. 

“we can finish,” nanami mutters under his breath. “it’s fine, we’ll finish in time.” 

you’re not sure if he’s trying to convince you or himself. 

you’re fighting for your life. you’re fighting the urge to scream and rip your hair out and do literally anything and everything the main character in a romantic comedy would do when nothing is going their way. 

you glance out the window. the sun has been gone for several hours now. you’re left to fend for yourself in this dusty, dark office - which, you figure you might be able to see better if you just got up to turn the lights.

lights are for the weak. it’s time to rely on your hunter-gatherer instincts. 

(you doubt hunter-gatherers were as lazy as you are, but that’s another discussion). 

you sigh and lean back in your seat. 

“why’re you sitting in the dark?” 

the lights click on and you jump in your seat. 

your heart is racing a million miles when you rub your eyes to adjust. footsteps approach you. what do you do? what would the hunter-gatherers have done?

you open your eyes. nanami towers over you, yuto attached to his hip and a grocery bag in his free hand. 

“we thought you might still be here.” 

you don’t know if you should be nervous. did something happen? 

“what’re you guys doing here?” 

he looks at you a little sheepishly. “yuto’s idea.” 

oh dear. what’re you to do now? what’re you to do now that you've seen this side of him? what’re you - a woman of nature, one with the trees and the wilderness - to do with a man like this? 

he’s shot you straight in the heart with a bow and arrow. 

“we got you a mango custard,” yuto grins. “you have to try it. it’s so much better than the strawberry cake.” 

“also got you some noodles if you’re hungry.” 

as if on cue, your stomach growls. 

you are no longer one with the wilderness. if you really think about it, this is the  modern version of gathering. 

nanami sets the bag down on your desk with the slightest curve of his lips. he grunts as he sits in his seat, yuto clinging to his front like a koala. 

“eat,” he murmurs, reaching for your mouse. 

he leans forward and you feel the warmth in waves, rolling off of his stiff suit. you still in your spot when he casually hands yuto over to you. now you’ve got a whole child hanging off of your right arm and a bowl of noodles in your other hand, with nanami brushing over you everytime he moves to type something on your computer. 

your heart blooms, flowers uprooting from your arteries. you’ve been watered after a long, dry day.  

“eat the custard.” yuto is whispering in your ear, but every time he speaks, he gets louder. “eat the custard. eat the custard, eat the - ”

“yuto.” 

yuto brings his voice back to a whisper. “eat the custard.” 

you giggle, holding up the box. “i gotta have these noodles first, right?” 

“no you don’t,” yuto shrugs. it must be nice to be a three-year old, considering how easily he made that decision for you. he shifts so he’s sitting on your lap, digging through the grocery bag to find the custard. “i think you should have the custard first.” 

“let her eat.” 

you let your eyes rest on nanami for a moment. his brows are slightly furrowed, with the same pinch from this morning. it feels that just as much as he hates overtime for himself, he hates it for you too. 

it makes you feel warm. 

“thank you,” you whisper. 

if he hears you, he doesn’t say anything. he makes sure your computer is shut down by 8:00.

contents. | 3. | 4. | 5.

[arteastica]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (19)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.7k

It was the kind of morning that encouraged the wearing of many layers. The thicker the better. And Sasha, who looked busy feeding soaked hay to the horses of a nearby stable, seemed to have reached that same conclusion before leaving her room that morning. You observed her as she struggled to drain the wet grass without dipping her fingers into the water, and realized you didn’t remember what she looked like under her scarf and wool hat.

Was this winter ever going to end?

The calendar gave a rather optimistic answer, but the weather seemed to be so very in love with the snow, and it didn’t look like it was letting go of its lover anytime soon.

You rubbed your gloved hands against each other and noticed how this was the first time you actually felt cold this season, even though the harshest days were already long behind. But back then, when low temperatures would make everyone complain, and the biting wind would paint their ears and fingers all shades of red, you could rely on your memories and the pleasant fire they lit within. And back then, you also had his body heat to keep you warm.

You glanced at the man standing beside you, his attention completely lost somewhere in the woods before him, and his hand, idly hanging to his side, looked especially inviting under this weather. And you wished you could reach out and take it, but you weren’t sure he would let you hold it.

His breath, turning into white mist as soon as it left his body, was clearly visible against the somber, almost starless twilight sky. His eyes were also a dark shade of blue this morning, and they seemed just as gelid as the sudden gust of wind that caused you to wrap your arms around yourself, rubbing your shoulders as you tried to shrink your body to a size that would be too tiny for the cold to spot.

“You can wait inside if you-”

“I’m fine.” You rushed to say, before realizing the hastiness in your voice risked coming across a little discourteous, and he was your boss after all. “It will start warming up once the sun rises a little more.” You explained, this time trying to soften your voice with a smile, a smile that you hoped didn’t look as unnatural and stiff as it felt on your own lips.

Yes, you had no doubt that the weather would warm up soon, because like a promise kept, the sun would always rise in the morning. And, as you thought about such kind of tacit, unspoken promises, you glanced up: The sky didn’t promise snow today. Maybe it would warm up a little after all.

But, was it really a promise or just your own foolish assumptions? In your case, there was always a bigger chance that it was the latter, and, therefore, throughout the years you had learned to not let yourself get too hopeful about things. That way, when it did snow later and you found your feet stuck under six inches of snow, buried so deep that you couldn’t move backwards and neither forwards, the disappointment wouldn’t hurt as much.

You could tell his eyes were on you, but you didn’t feel like looking back. Instead, you tried to find if there was even a single star still visible in the sky.

It had been almost a full week since he went back to work, and make no mistake, you were happy he did. You were glad to see him instead of the sad empty chair your eyes had been constantly met with for the past six weeks or so. However, it had also been a week since you moved back to your room. A full week since you last heard the raspy good mornings and lulling good nights he would whisper against your ear. A full week since you last engaged in any form of conversation that didn’t have the words ‘maintenance budget cuts’ or ‘decreasing staffing levels’ in them. A full week since you last saw him smile. At least at your way.

And most importantly, it had been a full week since you last felt the reassuring warmth of his lips against yours, and the sweet comfort of his arm around your body. A full week since you told him some very big words. And a full week since he didn’t say them back.

But, could you blame him for that? Not really, and you weren’t mad at him. Because, now that you had a lot of time to spend in the loneliness of your dark room, you started to consider the possibility that maybe he had his boundaries; and that maybe, just maybe, you had been overstepping them lately. Or who knows since when, to be honest.

There was something, however, that you knew very well.

You knew that the life of the Survey Corps’ Commander was already difficult enough as it was, and that he didn’t need any of his subordinates to make things more uncomfortable for him, whether that was with their irrational requests or the unsolicited confessions that left their mouth when they were in bed together. And, all things considered, you figured he could go back to sleeping alone. Not to mention he must be craving some personal space as well. After all, you had practically glued yourself to his side for a month.

As you let your mind travel to warmer moments lived during that month, you realized the silence was making you a little bit too nostalgic, so you welcomed the sound the leaves made as they drifted wherever the wind blew. As well as the distant clatter of hooves.

“They’re here.” He said, and you looked up to find the convoy in the distance. Within a few moments, the shapes grew in size, until they reached the entrance of the castle.

The enclosed carriage that was leading the caravan waited in front as two soldiers opened the gates. It was big and rather opulent, and the glossy finish on the wood told you that it had been polished very recently, and with such dedication that now it resembled a mirror. A mirror that, with its gilded features and painted panels, successfully reflected the personal taste of the owner, whose face remained anonymous thanks to the satin curtains covering the windows.

But the carriage wasn’t the only notable thing in the caravan. The four horses pulling it, as well as the two dozens waiting behind, were splendid enough to overshadow the sumptuous vehicle.

The commander walked to the entrance of the stables, and you followed behind, your eyes still captured by the mesmerizing creatures. When the carriage parked nearby and its doors opened, the identity of the owner was finally revealed: a middle-aged man of imposing height and cinnamon hair who looked surprisingly familiar, and that, judging by his elegant demeanor and conspicuous wardrobe choices, could be nothing other than the lord of some faraway estate.

He hugged the Commander as if they were the oldest of friends, and, as they laughed about some inside joke you were certain you wouldn’t get, you found yourself wishing things were as merry and jolly between you and him as it was between the two of them. But then again, you were pretty sure this old man had never said he was in love with him.

Although, to be fair, it was not like he was avoiding you. In fact, to an outsider it may even look like you were the one doing it. After all, you were the one who decided to move back to your room, and you were the one who was actively trying to keep your eyes glued to your desk instead of looking his way. You were also the one who decided to start leaving immediately after your shift ended.

A stranger reading your latest journal entries would be forgiven for thinking you were the one putting distance between you two, but you were convinced that anyone in your position would understand that it was not something you had chosen deliberately. You were merely reacting.

Reacting to what you felt and perceived: a switch in the atmosphere, a change in his eyes, the feeling of not being welcome anymore. You could see it there, in the icy blue of his irises, and that’s why you tried not to look at them. It made your throat tight and your vision blurry. So you decided it was best to look at the horses instead.

They were truly some of the most magnificent stallions you had ever seen. So bright and alert. The glow in their coat told you that all their nutritional requirements were met, and the bounce of their mane, that they were frequently groomed. You had once heard that even just one of these horses was worth an average person’s lifetime income. And you could see why.

But after some minutes of contemplation, wonder turned into gloom, as you found yourself feeling sorry for them. There was no way these innocent creatures knew about the dangers that awaited them. It was truly such a shame that such gorgeous animals had been born in a world like yours. They deserved to enjoy their days eating fresh grass and running up and down a green hill, somewhere in the middle of a picturesque countryside, and not to spend their lives outrunning titans.

But you tried to cheer yourself up by thinking that they would get to live good lives for as long as they could cling to them. After all, the scouts treated their animals with the utmost care and respect, almost as if they considered their horses to be comrades too.

To your right, you heard the Commander animatedly talking with the wealthy stranger. But your eyes were still lost among the horses, absentmindedly watching their mane dance in the wind. The sound it made when blowing through the trees, delicately rustling their leaves as if telling them it was time to wake up, was something you had always found relaxing. And you realized that, despite the uncomfortable cold, it was such a beautiful day in the forest. If only you could enjoy it.

You wished you owned the carefree disposition of that tall man who had just dismounted his horse and now seemed to be thanking it for the ride. He looked so content and joyful, utterly delighted with the simple act of ruffling its mane, and so did the animal. It looked as if the man was fluent in whatever language it is that horses speak. He looked a lot like a horse whisperer. He looked a lot like-

“Leon?” You heard your own voice calling seconds before the man turned around and smiled, confirming that was indeed his name.

“My lady.” As he made his way to you, his hazel locks danced to the exact same tune his horse’s mane did behind him. His hair had gotten longer, but his smile was as warm and welcoming as you remembered it.

“How come you’re here?” You asked, surprised to find this was the first time in days your smile felt like it belonged on your face.

“I’m accompanying my lord uncle.” He paused as he kissed the back of your hand. “This gentleman right here.” You looked at the man he was pointing at, the one standing next to him, and also the same tall stranger the Commander had been animatedly conversing with.

So this was Lord Koch. His face did look a little familiar after all.

“Commander Smith.” Leon gently let go of your hand before sending an acknowledging nod to the Commander, and extending his hand.

“Lord Angert.” The Commander shook the hand Leon was offering and smiled politely. “Thank you for traveling so far, my Lord. I hope the winter woods weren’t too rough.”

“As someone who was raised out in the cold, my esteemed Commander, I found the weather rather nostalgic.” As the two men shared a chuckle, you couldn’t help but join in, amused by Leon’s interesting way of speaking.

“We had to make a couple of small detours, as we weren’t sure if it was safe to travel anywhere near Ragako or Dauper.” Lord Koch explained. “That added at least half a day to our schedule. We should have been here by yesterday night, so I apologize, Erwin. I think Leon here was the only one who appreciated the change of plans.” He grinned at his nephew, and you noticed that Lord Koch’s eyes also had the tendency to turn into crescent moons when he smiled. “He really wanted to get a present for the beautiful lady here.” You blinked a few times to shake the confusion away when you suddenly felt all three men’s eyes on you.

Leon slipped a hand inside his jacket before handing you a tin box that was all too familiar to you. It did look like you were starting a collection after all, you had three of these now.

And for the first time in this bitter morning, you felt warm, the pleasant feeling immediately taking over your lips. You could really use the sugar today. The sugar, as well as the comfort only your favorite childhood treat could provide.

“Leon, you didn’t have to.” Your fingers reached for the present, unable to keep your lips from curving when you had the small box in your hands. You expected the metal to be cold, but it was actually comfortable to the touch, and rather warm from the cozy pocket he had kept it in all this time.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I figured since I was coming here anyway, I could at least bring you a piece of home.” He explained, using his hand to brush aside the importance of his kind gesture. “Although, I must admit the idea only found me after we were more than halfway through our journey here. But Luckily they had these in one of the villages we stopped by.”

You stared into the forest he had for eyes and wondered if you could find a friend there. Because you felt like you could really use one right now.

“Erwin, these were selectively bred to be approximately five feet tall and nine hundred pounds give or take.” You turned your attention to Lord Koch, who was pointing at the group of horses that was now being taken into the stables. “They may seem heavy but you don’t need to worry about maintenance out there in the field, they can get by perfectly fine on a simple diet, and travel many hours without complaining.” You eyed the horses, they certainly looked way more muscular than your average horse. “And their weight doesn’t affect their performance either. Their top speed is between forty to fifty miles per hour. Pretty impressive, right? We trained them to maintain a swift twenty two miles gallop, even when pulling a carriage. Like I said, a fine speed all the way through. But I don’t pretend you believe just my words. I actually would like to show you right now if you’re up for it. What do you say?”

The sound of the wind waking the leaves from their slumber was the only thing Lord Koch got for a reply. You turned to look at the Commander at the same time Leon did, and were surprised to find him staring back at you. An unreadable look in his icy blue eyes.

“Erwin?” Lord Koch called again and this time he seemed to have more luck in getting a reply.

“Yes, yes, we should.” The Commander said, eyes still fixed on you.

“I’ll get them ready, Uncle.”

“No, son, you can stay. Erwin and I are only going for a quick ride.” Lord Koch smiled to his nephew before turning to the Commander. “Let’s go, Erwin. Let’s leave these two to each other. I bet they have a lot to talk about.”

The Commander threw one last glance your way, a closed-mouth smile on his face, before turning around and following Lord Koch.

-

next chapter

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[suddencolds]

Fool Me Twice [5/?]

Hello, remember this series? This chapter took me like six months to write. It was very embarrassing opening up the google doc again to see that the last edit was in April (back when I rewrote this chapter from scratch five times over before giving up entirely.) Anyways, I need to post it before I lose my nerve. 😭

Part 5 ft. fake dating, a cold, and an intervention

You can read part 1 [here]! (No context is needed aside from the previous 4 parts).

—

The drive to Good Day Diner is uneventful. Francesca recommended it to him awhile back, when they were both still in college, and he’s been trying to puzzle out their recipes ever since. Though, even with the ones where he’s come close, he rarely has the time to make them properly, in between work and everything else, so he’s been back here a few times since then.

Yves picks up two pint-sized containers worth of soup—chicken farro and miso with ginger—and strikes up a conversation with the cashier while he waits.

“This isn’t your usual order,” she says.

“Yeah,” Yves says. “It’s for a friend.”

“They’re a fan of miso?” Yves considers this. They’ve gone to more than a couple work outings together, and though Yves hasn’t paid particularly close attention to what everyone else has ordered, he thinks he remembers Vincent getting miso salmon on one occasion, a few weeks back. “I’m not sure,” he says. “I hope so.”

“Your friend didn’t tell you their order?”

“He doesn’t know I’m getting dinner for him. I just happened to be passing by, so I thought I might as well.” That part’s not entirely true—the restaurant is a twenty minute drive from the office, and it’s not really on the way home, either.

“So it’s a surprise,” the girl says, leaning back with a smile that looks a little too knowing for Yves’s liking. Whatever she thinks she’s figured out, he’s sure she has the wrong idea. “That’s awfully nice of you.”

“It’s not like that,” Yves says. “We aren’t that close. I’m not even sure if he’ll be happy to see me.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s done a lot for me, and I think—” I think I might’ve repaid him in the most ungrateful way possible, his mind supplies unhelpfully. “I think all I’ve done, in return, is cause him trouble.”

The girl finishes ladling soup into the containers and reaches over the counter for two caps. “Usually when people do a lot for you, that means they like you.” 

“Or it means they’re just really nice,” Yves says. “I think that’s closer to it.”

“So you’re getting him soup because you feel indebted to him?” She sets the soup containers carefully into a brown paper bag, slips in two plastic sleeves worth of utensils, then slides it towards him.

“Something like that,” Yves says, taking the bag from her. “Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes the next time I’m back. Have a good one!” 

“You too,” she says. “I hope your friend appreciates it.”

It’s not as nice as treating Vincent to dinner, but maybe what Vincent needs right now is convenience, not luxury. if he’s already made up his mind about working late, then at least he can work late with dinner on the side. Yves doesn’t even have to talk to him, really. He can just leave the soup on Vincent’s desk with a note, as unobtrusively as possible, and then take his leave again.

The drive back is shorter than expected. Yves turns on the radio, if only to not be left with just his thoughts, and listens to the newscaster talk about traffic, and the weather, and a local festival that’s going to be held on friday. When he puts the car into park and pulls the keys out from the ignition, the silence that follows is not reassuring in the least.

He pockets his keys and heads up the stairs, into the office building, and takes the elevator up to the fifth floor. The office is well-lit, even this late at night—it gives the impression of it being perpetually daytime, even though the clock on the wall says otherwise. 

He takes a post-it note off of Cara’s desk, scrawls on: Figured you wouldn’t have time to get dinner, so I got you soup, and signs it: -Y. He sticks the note onto the paper bag, regards it for a moment, and then—after reconsidering—staples it on, just in case. 

Then he heads off—past rows and rows of desks, around the corner and through the hallway, past the break room, to stop at the doorway which overlooks the room where Vincent sits.

Vincent is still at his desk, paging through documents with one hand, scrolling through what looks to be a long list of email correspondences with the other. From this distance, it’s hard to tell that anything is off, except— 

He looks exhausted. It’s subtle, but once Yves notices it, he can’t stop noticing it. It’s present in the way Vincent holds himself, as if the wiry frame of the office chair is the only thing keeping him properly upright. It’s in the way he blinks hard at his monitor, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if he’s been staring at it for hours.

There’s a mug of what looks to be black coffee on his desk, half empty but still steaming, which seems to imply that he plans on staying much later. Yves clears his throat.

“Still working hard?” he says. 

Vincent’s gaze snaps up to where Yves is standing. “Yves,” he says. “I thought you left.”

“I did.”

“Did you forget something here?” Vincent dog-ears the page he’s flipped to, then sets the stack of papers off to the side. “I can help you look.”

“No,” Yves says. “Well, not exactly. I know you said you didn’t want to be bothered. I promise I’ll be out of here soon.”

“Okay,” Vincent says, expectantly.

“Have you eaten?”

“I ate,” Vincent says. The relief Yves feels, at that statement, is unfortunately short-lasted. “Lunch. A few hours ago.”

“Lunch was eight hours ago.”

“I’ll eat tomorrow.”

“Will you catch up on sleep tomorrow too?”

“If I manage to finish this by then,” Vincent says, “Then yes.”

Yves stares at him. Does Vincent really, truly think there’s nothing wrong with any of this? With whatever sleepless, miserable late-night work session he’s already seemingly resigned himself to? “So what? You’re going to crash on the couch here?”

“I’ll head home around 4,” Vincent says.

4am. “And what? Lay down for fifteen minutes?” 

“Three hours, maybe,” Vincent says, turning aside to muffle a cough into his elbow. “I don’t live that far.”

He says all of this in earnest, as though none of it strikes him as even the slightest bit unreasonable. Yves can’t help it—he doesn’t think he could hide the incredulity in his voice even if he tried. “You have to be kidding me.”

Finally, Vincent’s face shifts to show—something. Something other than the utter blankness from before, something past the civil, perfectly drawn business facade. Yves doesn’t have to look for very long to register it as frustration. “What part of my answer was unclear?”

“None of it is unclear,” Yves says. “It’s just… exceptionally unreasonable.” 

“By some arbitrary metric of yours, sure.”

“Ask anyone else at the office and they’d agree with me.”

“What you—or anyone else at the office—think about my sleep schedule doesn’t concern me.”

“Let me help,” Yves says. “Please. We’ll get it done twice as fast if I help. Or if you really don’t trust me, hand it off to someone you do trust.”

“There’s no need. It’s my work to get done.”

“You should be at home right now, not working overtime on your first day back,” Yves says. He looks over all of it, now—over the desktop computer and the monitor, the charts and graphs laid out on screen, the piles of paperwork currently occupying Vincent’s desk. There’s a pang in his chest that he hadn’t quite accounted for.  “It can’t be pleasant doing all of this with a headache.”

Vincent blinks at him. “What headache?”

“The one you’ve had since before I left.” Vincent can attempt to deny it if he wants. But between Leon, Yves’s younger brother, and Victoire, his younger sister—who’ve caught their fair share of colds throughout the years, between the other members of the crew team he’d spent his 6ams with—who he’s seen frequently tired and occasionally under the weather—Yves thinks he’s well equipped to recognize a headache.

And Vincent looks as put-together as always, for the most part—he looks like he could’ve just walked out of a photoshoot for some classy magazine, his hair neat, his tie done neatly, his suit jacket criminally well-fitted to his shoulders. But Yves doesn’t miss the stiff set of his jaw and the tension strung through his posture, the way he tilts his head ever-so-slightly away from the bright overhead lights as if it hurts to look at them, the way he rubs his eyes or pinches the bridge of his nose, always subtle enough to go unnoticed. The way he holds himself, now, as if it’s taking all of his energy to appear so presentable.

“I don’t,” Vincent starts. “I haven’t—”

“I can tell, you know,” Yves says, a little dejectedly. “I’m pretty sure it’s my fault you have one, anyways.”

Vincent frowns. “Talking to you hasn’t given me a headache.”

“Not that,” Yves says. “But I’d imagine that spending all of New Year’s Eve next to me when I was under the weather might have.”

Yves watches the surprise flicker across Vincent’s face.

“So that’s what this is about?” Vincent says slowly, his eyebrows furrowing. He looks—confused, now, taken aback by Yves’s admission—and then a little sad. “You’re just here because you feel guilty.”

“I do feel guilty,” Yves agrees—that much is true. “But that’s not why I’m here.” he feels hopeless, suddenly, attempting to explain himself to someone who would probably have preferred it if he never bothered. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come. Perhaps it was presumptuous to think that he could help in the first place. “I realize now that I can’t change your mind on any of this. But even if you plan to stay here all night, I— I just thought maybe I could—”

He’s interrupted with a harsh, “hhHh’NGk-t!” which jerks Vincent forward in his seat. Then a soft, wet sniffle, and then another— “Excuse m—Hhh’GKT!”, neatly pinched off into his hands. Vincent’s eyes flutter shut as he cups both his hands over his mouth, his eyebrows drawing together as his shoulders tremble with an inhale: “hih… hiIIh… hI’GKSCHHuuh-! Snf-! hH… HEh’DZSSChhUH!”

It’s immediately followed up with a few harsh, grating coughs which leave Vincent hunched over slightly, his glasses slightly askew, his hands still cupped to his face.

“Bless you,” Yves says, a little stunned. 

Vincent doesn’t say anything to that—he just reaches across the desk for a tissue and blows his nose quietly into it, before he discards the tissue into a small metal trash can under the desk. The tips of his ears look a little red.

His throat probably hurts too, Yves realizes, with a jolt. Yves really shouldn’t be prolonging this conversation if he can help it.

“I, uh, brought soup,” he says awkwardly. The paper bag crinkles slightly as he lifts it. “Just so you wouldn’t have to skip dinner entirely. That’s why I was gone earlier. I initially meant to just drop it off here, not—” he clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to argue with you.”

Vincent is quiet for a moment longer. Then he says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“What? Bring you dinner?

“You didn’t have to come back at all.”

“I know that,” Yves says. “But I wanted to.”

Vincent takes the bag from him, lifts the post-it note so he can read the few lines Yves has scrawled onto it. He turns aside to muffle a few coughs into his sleeve. “This must have been a lot of trouble.”

“Not more trouble than attending a New Year’s party on someone else’s behalf, that’s for sure,” Yves says. It’s a wonder that Vincent agreed to that arrangement in the first place—Yves doesn’t know how he’ll even begin to make it up to him. “If we’re keeping count, I still owe you.”

Vincent regards him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I never thought that you owed me.” 

“Okay,” Yves says. “Then I’m doing this on my own accord.”

“What do you possibly have to gain from that?”

Is it not obvious enough? Yves sighs. “Nothing. I care about you.”

Carefully, slowly, Vincent opens the bag, shifts his documents over to the other side of the desk, and takes out the two containers of soup. Yves regards them closely—hopefully they’ve still retained most of their warmth, even after the drive here.

“I’m not sure if they’ll be to your taste,” he says, a little sheepishly. “If you tell me what you like, next time I’ll try to keep it in mind.”

“I’m not picky,” Vincent says. He rummages through the paper bag for a spoon. “I think I’d like both of these. Have you eaten already?”

“Not yet,” Yves says. Perhaps he should’ve picked up dinner for himself at Good Day, too—he’d been so preoccupied with getting something for Vincent that he’d forgotten. Either way, it’s inconsequential. There’s probably enough in the fridge to last a day or two before his next grocery run.

“You also got dinner for yourself, right?”

Yves must hesitate for a moment too long. 

“That’s a little hypocritical,” Vincent says. “Do you want to pull up a chair?”

“What?”

“You haven’t eaten. You brought two soups.”

“They were both supposed to be for you.”

“You’re already here.” Vincent says. He shuts his laptop and leaves it off to the side, clears a space on the table, and sets the chicken farro soup in front of Yves. As if it really is that simple.

Yves stares down at it, a little perplexed. I thought you didn’t want to speak to me, he wants to say. 

“Unless you’d just prefer to take this home,” Vincent says, misinterpreting his silence as hesitation. 

“No,” Yves says. “You’re right. I’ll pull up a chair.”

—

Yves ends up dragging over a chair from one of the tables nearby—he makes a mental note to put it back before they leave. Vincent shuts his laptop and leaves it off to the side.

“Now we’re both staying past nine,” Vincent says.

“Yes,” Yves says. “I’ve always wanted to see what this place turns into at night.”

“Does it live up to your expectations?” “It’s a bit of a ghost town,” Yves says. “But not in a bad way. Feels like I could take all the snacks out of the break room and no one would bat an eye.”

“That’s the real reason why I’m here right now,” Vincent says, so deadpan that it barely sounds like a joke. Yves laughs. 

Something about this scene—about sitting with Vincent, here, having dinner on the only corner of his office desk that isn’t occupied by documents—feels a little nostalgic.

“This is just like when I first joined,” he says. “When you were helping me with all the onboarding stuff.” 

Back when he first joined, Vincent’s desk was a frequent destination. It’s not that Vincent is particularly friendly—it’s more just that Vincent is really, really good. He has expertise in things that he’s only done once in his life, and he can spot mistakes at a glance. He’s patient, too, even though Yves thinks that if the roles had been reversed, anyone teaching Vincent anything would never have to exercise any patience at all.

He can’t blame Angelie for looking to Vincent for help, either. It wasn’t that long ago that Yves was the one hovering at his desk, watching Vincent go through relevant work over his shoulder.

“The first couple weeks are - snf-! - always difficult,” Vincent says. “But you picked things up quickly.”

“I can’t imagine you as a beginner at anything,” Yves muses.

“Everyone’s - snf -! - a beginner at s-some— hH-! Just a second—” Vincent turns his head away sharply, burying his nose into his shoulder before— “hh’GKt-! Hh… Hhh’IIZSCchuhH! snf-! Hh-! hhih… HiH’GKT-!... Hh… hHih… hIH’IKTSHhh’uuh!”  

“Bless you,” Yves says reflexively. 

“Thank you,” Vincent says, with a small cough, which he muffles into his sleeve. He sighs. His voice has held up pretty well, but Yves can hear the muted edge of congestion in his voice, softening his consonants. “What was that you said to me? ‘You’ll get tired of that phrase really quickly?’”

“I won’t if you get over this cold soon,” Yves says. “Maybe that’s the real reason why I brought soup.”

“So that’s why you’re being suspiciously nice to me,” Vincent says, with a laugh. “I’m relieved to know you’ve had ulterior motives all along.”

Everything gets easier, after that. Vincent seems to enjoy the soup, for the way his eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, after he takes his first bite. (“So I was right to think you’d like miso,” Yves says, and Vincent laughs and says, “Am I really that predictable?”) When Yves offers again to help, after dinner, Vincent wordlessly hands him a small stack of business proposals. It’s not much, but just the fact that he’s agreeing to let Yves help is already a step in the right direction—give Yves an inch, and he’ll take a mile.

Yves looks through all of the documents he’s handed, scrawling notes in the margins, and then goes through another third of the stack of unreviewed paper on Vincent’s desk, while Vincent scrolls through pages of spreadsheets, processing data and creating new graphs. Vincent is almost frighteningly efficient, even when he’s not feeling his best—they lapse into a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the occasional, near-inaudible hitch in Vincent’s breath, always followed by a wrenching sneeze, or two.

There’s the coughing, too—always muffled tightly into his sleeve, after Vincent turns to face away from him, which must be exhausting. Yves doesn’t know why he bothers. It��s not as though he can catch this cold again.

(“Bless you,” Yves says, after the tenth-or-so sneeze, trying not to let the concern creep into his voice. “I think the pharmacy near 59th is still open. If you want, I can stop by and grab you something for your symptoms.”

“No need,” Vincent says. “If it - hh-! - gets bad enough, I’ll — Hhh-!”

“Bless you again—”

“hihH’IZSCHhhuh! - snf-! - I’ll get something myself.”

Yves wonders what his metric for bad enough is. Then again, it’s probably better not to press.)

It’s nearly eleven before Yves decides to head home at last.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Vincent says, with a rueful sniffle. “You must be tired.” “Not really,” Yves says. “I usually sleep pretty late. If you’re still feeling this bad tomorrow, take the day off.”

“I’ll think about it,” Vincent says. 

Yves sighs. “At the very least, promise me you’ll head home sooner rather than later?”

 “No promises,” Vincent says—though at the disapproving look Yves gives him, he amends, “But I’ll try.”

He sounds like he means it, at the very least. Yves supposes he’ll take what he can get.

[ Part 6 ]

[aru-xx]

I'm here now. // Detroit Become Human x Heavy Rain

A/N: yooo! I really hope that whoever might be reading this, will enjoy the short story about this alternative universe! it actually took me a little time to make, but in the end i'm pretty happy how it turned out. any kind of feedback is always appreciated and if you liked this fanfic, then make sure to check out my account for more stories or leave me some requests for stories with your own ideas. have a great day/night! // Word Count: 3295 // not revised // ――――――――――――― 6th October 2034, 5:37pm, DPD I just sat there staring at the files and reports in front of me, not taking up anymore information I was getting. Suddenly a hand gently touched my shoulder, bringing me back to reality. "Mister Anderson, I think it'd be a good idea for you to go home and catch a break. This case will be in good hands and will have top priority, I can promise that." The man next to me spoke in a calm yet serious voice, making me slowly stand up from the chair I was sitting on. "We will be quick to inform you about anything new. Good evening." That was the last thing he said to me, before I heard his footsteps getting quieter as he was walking away to presumably do something of more importance. I took a sharp breath in while my eyes were still sticking to all of the reports I saw on the table. -nine year old boy found dead near the freeway! will the origami killer be back again this year?- -seven year old boy gone missing on his way home from school!- I felt myself feeling sicker with every second that passed just looking at all of this. Needing to get some fresh air and to clear my mind, I quickly stepped out of the building before feeling the cold weather outside instantly. I slowly started walking home in trance and silence. My mind was empty, I couldn't think straight anymore after the hours of sitting in the police station and explaining the officers what happened. I scoffed in frustration. I was the one who was supposed to take care of him. I am an Officer myself, so I should've been the one searching for him now. I should've looked out for him more and be a better father to him. My Cole. My sweet little boy. He's just 5 years old. How was he supposed to be out here all alone?

6th October 2034, 5:56pm, Michigan Drive 115 Opening the door to my House I felt like I was abandoning everything I have ever cared for if I only dared to close that door again. I stepped inside the warm home, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling before locking the door behind me. Hearing sumo walking out of the living room he was probably sleeping in before, i kneel down to his height waiting for him to approach me. "Hey there boy", I said almost in a whisper as I petted him before taking off my jacket and shoes. As sumo went back into the living room I saw some mails on the shelf, I grabbed them before walking into the kitchen and tossing them onto the table, not caring much about it. I then opened the fridge to get myself a beer, opening it and sitting down on a chair at the kitchen table. I took a big sip of the alcoholic drink, already feeling the sad comfort in my throat, before I roughly ripped open the mails. "Uninteresting, uninteresting, uninteresting.." I kept looking through them without much interest, before stopping at one specific mail that i was finding rather odd. I looked at the weird letter which had no sender address on it. Just a tiny bit more interested now, I opened this one with more care before pulling out the sheet of paper that was in it. When the parents came home from church, all their children were gone. They searched and called for them, they cried and begged, but it was all to no avail. The children have never been seen again. I swallowed at the sight of the kind of disturbing text, not knowing what that was supposed to mean nor why I got this mail. My mind was racing again and all I could think about was Cole. I heard a loud thunder rumble, which made me look at the window that was covered in thousands of rain drops. It was raining heavily again. I stared outside the window for a moment, seeing the dark clouds covering the sky and making the whole place look more depressed than it already was. Cole. He had to be out there. He would get sick. I felt my mood take a drastical twist as i looked inside the envelope now and found a ticket for a luggage locker inside. Again not knowing what this was, I still knew that something was off about this, so I kept the ticket before pushing everything else from the table in frustration, anger, unsteadiness and most of all sadness. I laid down my head on the table putting my hands over my head, not caring about the now shattered glass on the floor or the instant noodles that sumo would probably eat soon. I was at helpless and I knew it. I failed him and even myself, I knew it. I knew it but I just couldn't accept the fact that this was my fault. That him being scared out there all alone now.. was only me failing as a father.

7th October 2034, 2:18pm, Lexington Station The police hasn't reported anything new to me yet so they had most likely no trace of my son so far, but that would only be true if they were actually keeping their word on letting me know every new information about his well being and the investigation. I wasn't stupid though. I was a cop myself so I knew how things had to go. But the only difference here was, that i wasn't doing this as my job. I was doing this because I was his father and threfore I was on a different level than them. I did have a possible traceand I wasn't willing to give that up. Walking into the Train Station I almost feltlike a criminal even if what I was doing wasn't anything illegal. Getting some luggage from a letter that I received wasn't a crime, was it? But no matter what, in order to succeeded I had to keep my cool while walking past thesecurity and trying to find the right locker. Getting past the man that was apparently checking for any suspicous behaviour, was in fact just sitting in his chair and letting everyone pass with less than half care about it. "Row 18, locker 3", I whispered tomyself, checking the ticket and all the lockers in front of me, until I had found the right one. I carefully opened it before taking out the shoe box that was insidewith a rather confused look. I quickly checked the area for any civilians before not even hesitating to open the box and seewhat was inside of it, but what I saw made me feel sick. There were little origamifigures, an old phone with a memory card and .. a gun. My stomach began to churn, alarming me thatthis was nothing a normal person had to do with. It was more than clear that not only the gun was a hint to the killer but also the origami figures that were his kind of signature that he left right before every missing child was found, together with an orchid on the dead bodies. I just stood there for a longtime, thinking about how this would be my son if I didn't act fast enough. How this would happen to a lot more fathers and mothers. Thinking about all possible things. But in the end I came to the conclusion that I was only sure about the fact that I wanted to save my little boy. Iwanted to be a good protector to him again. A good father. But I knew. I knew. If I wanted to really save him, I had to give this to thepolice and let them handle it. I could do nothing for him. Again.

7th October 2034, 3:12pm, DPD I walked into the Police Department, having already informed the FBI Profiler Norman Jayden who was working together with Lieutenant Carter Blake in the origami killer case, about my findings. I didn't quite like the FBI because of their way of handling things, but I had a good feeling about this particularly man so I trusted him enough to let him try to save my son, which already should mean the world. Getting closer to all of the officer's desks I heard Agent Jayden and Officer Blake talk to a man who was sitting on a chair in front of a table that had different files on it. He reminded me of myself, sitting in that same chair yesterday. Reminded me of how i felt at that moment. I looked down at the box I was holding, feeling the sadness and guilt catch up to me again. Being lost in my thoughts for a second made me not realize how they almost finished their talk. That was until the man stood up trying to walk a little after the lieutenant, making me also look up at them. "Hey, do you think the origami killer..", he wasn't able to finish his sentence which led to an uneasy silence in the conversation. "Listen, your sons probably just run off and will turn up in a couple hours", the officer replied rather annoyed. "But what if it is the origami killer?", while the father was sounding more than just worried. "Well then we have about 4 days to find him alive". As soon as Carter Blake spat his words out and left, I instantly regretted listening in on their conversation and looked back down to avoid having to look into the mans eyes who has just recently had a traumatic experience. It made me realize. He was also a father. A father who lost his son. Like me. Like everyone else before. I was sure now. I was sure about that this was the right thing to do. To put a stop to this never-ending nightmare for all people out there who lost their lovely children. After I looked up again I saw the man leaving into the waiting area and talking to a woman which seemed to be his wife .. or ex-wife. At least the mother ofthe young boy. I decided that this was no longer something of my business, even if it wasn't in the first place either. I walked over to the FBI Agent who seemed rather stressed but not surprised to see me once he noticed me. "Mr. Anderson." He looked at the box I was holding before standing up straight again, after he was bending over the table for I was guessing the whole questioning from the father. "Please follow me into my office." He forced a calm voice out of him while I stayed silent. We walked into his office, and he closed the door behind us as I simply put the box on his desk. I gave a heavy sigh, not even daring to look into the mans eyes due to me being ashamed of myself that I was much older than this FBI Profiler and yet I couldn't even bring myself to even try or believe in myself that I could find and rescue my son myself but instead put it on other peoples backs. It was pathetic. "Save my son. Please. You have to. Not only for me but for everyone. For the father that also lost his little boy." I paused, opening my mouth to speak again but only shook my head and put my hands on the table for some grip while staring down at it. "Ethan Mars. I know i'm not supposed to share this information with you but that was the fathers name, and his son is named Shaun Mars. He also felt guilty about losing his son just like that even if he was supposed to take care of him. But if I can promise you one thing Mister Anderson .. then that would be that I WILL find your and Mister Mars sons and put a stop to this." I turned around, looking surprised for a moment that the Agent was sympathising with me and giving me personal informations about this man only for me to be able to get in touch with him. I quickly put a thankful smile on my face which not only showed and expressed my sadness and helplessness but also my gratitude and relief I felt at the moment. Without another word having to be spoken, I left the office and with that also the DPD.

11th October 2034, 7:22pm, The Old Warehouse A normal Friday evening, standing outside an old warehouse together with the police and just waiting for something to happen. Someone to come out of the building. My nerves were completely shot, and I haven't really slept for the past few days because of the fact that I was not knowing anything about how close or far away the police were to catching the origami killer and finding my son. But now. Now it was finally time, so when I got a call from Norman Jayden that he knows who and where the origami killer is I couldn't help but feel a little bit of hope grow inside me. And now I would either see my son come out of this building .. or not. Everything would be finished tonight and there was no other way. But I already knew that if my little boy wouldn't be here anymore, I would break. I would never be the same ever again. "Hank?" A man next to me spoke up and I quickly turned my head in the direction of the voice, seeing Ethan giving me an even more worried expression than he already had all the time, if that was even possible. "I couldn't bear to never see him again. I love him too much for something so brutally." I spoke truthfully, sharing what was going through my mind with him. Over the painful time I was kept in the dark, I decided to take the chance Agent Jayden gave me and get in touch with Ethan Mars. And now I would never regret doing that, because hearing his story and knowing there was someone who was going through the same as me right now made me feel much more understood with my own feelings, thoughts and the situation. "Movement on the front doors! Keep in position! On my call!" I heard and saw the whole situation getting heated up faster than I could blink and Ethan and I were both pushed a little further away by some of the cops to avoid us getting in the way or hurt. My eyes were fixated on the door, no thoughts were crossing my mind anymore. I couldn't think anymore. I just wanted to see my boy. I wanted to know he was fine. I wanted to see him smile as he was calling out for me. For his father. I wanted to hold him again. My .. One of the doors got pushed opened fully now as we saw the injured FBI profiler walking out of the building with his hands raised to avoid getting mistaken by the killer and shot. "Person verified. Agent Norman Jayden." My heart dropped seeing the man come out of the building alone. I froze up. Feeling sick again all of a sudden. Not being able to look at the scene anymore I put my hands on my knees to keep myself steady as i bend down in utter despair. "Two more persons verified. Shaun Mars and .." I flipped my head back up within a second, seeing two little boys walk slowly and terrified out of the building, being visibly overwhelmed by the scenery infront of them. "COLE!" I screamed as I ignored the instructions of the Officers and instead ran towards my son, earning his full attention. "Cole Anderson." The police officer finished his sentence before Cole came running towards me, closely followed by Shaun running up to his own dad. "DAD!", Cole screamed with tears in his eyes before just a few moments later I fell to my knees right before him and hugged him tightly. Keeping him close to me again. Holding him in my arms again. "Dad.." he sobbed in relief and sorrow, as tears started to fall from his face and almost instantly soaked into my clothing due to his face being buried in my chest. "Cole..", I cooed softly. The sight of my son clinging onto me like this while crying made my own tears, that were swelling up for the whole past days now, come out of my eyes. The happiness I felt of seeing my loved son again and keeping him close to me again after so long was more than just a wonderful feeling to me. Blending out everything around us, I memorized everything carefully. In that moment all I cared about was him. Even though I knew it wouldn't always be like this, I could only feel the comfort in keeping my boy close.

But as it is, not everything was supposed to have a happy ending. The luck is not always on your side. It runs out. I just would have never guessed that my luck would run out so soon again. Only one year later. One fucking year after this nightmare. A car crash. Just one mistake from a stranger. One second. Just one moment. And it should all be over in the blink of an eye, sending me back into the darkest places of my mind. That's what the future had planned for me. And there was nothing I could do about it. ➥ 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚎𝚗𝚍. 7th November 2038, 1:19am, Riverside Park I breathed out heavily feeling somewhat relieved of getting this off my chest. As soon as I finished speaking, the cold winter air hit me once again, leaving me unfazed. "That's how my son was saved the first time but he.." I stopped talking due to the discomfort I felt when speaking about it, so I just stared at the view in front of me - Detroit glowing bright at night while the water reflected the lights on its surface. I took another sip from my beer before looking down at the bench I was sitting on, replaying everything that has happened back then in my head yet again. "I'm here now, hank." I was quick to look up at the sudden but calm voice talking to me, seeing Connor standing next to me with what seemed to be sympathy in his eyes as the wind hit my face more lightly once more. I looked at him for a while, only now noticing the similarities he had to Cole in his presence. I carefully started memorizing everything about him, like I did with Cole back at the old Warehouse and as if it was the last time I'd ever see his face again. But in reality I was actually finding a little bit of my own peace in him. Now replaying all of the moments I had with the detective android instead of the horrible events from the past years. We both stayed silent before I sighed out again, this time more relieved and with a slight smile on my face. We then turned our attention back at the beautiful view of Detroit, but now something was different than just a moment ago. It was much fuller with life and the silence wasn't as heavy as it was before. Maybe Connor was right after all. Maybe it was actually worth living for others. Maybe there's more to life than just what you've lost. Maybe I can believe in myself again and maybe he was the one who was able to change my way of seeing things in life. The first time for years now my thoughts were calm again, as I kept replaying the soothing words from the android in my mind. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰.

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a rec list of BL fics where Louis and/or Harry are lawyers. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Pretty, Perfect Angel | Explicit | 2514 words

Harry comes home late and wakes Louis up. Louis does something he wasn't supposed to and gets in trouble.

2) Helping A Friend | Explicit | 2961 words

Louis is very energetic and sometimes a bit too much for people to handle, but Harry finds an unconventional method that works better than meds.

3) Where We Start | Mature | 3728 words | Sequel

Being sick and tired of getting teased by all his friends for being the only virgin left in his group, Louis is determined to get fucked; he doesn't care who or where or how. He just so happens to get fucked by the infamous slut, Harry Styles.

4) You'll Wait For Me Only | Teen & Up | 9106 words

Harry nips at the bondmark on Louis’ neck, Louis’ hands go to his hips, grounding him. He allows himself this, knowing that his Omega needs it too. Harry pulls back, “Go on a date with me.” He rushes out, looking at Louis’ eyes.

Louis laughs and shakes his head. “No, Louis, I’m serious. We’ve bonded for life anyway, might as well try.” Louis looks at him, “You’ve been thinking about this a lot.” Louis points out, Harry nods. “Okay.” Louis says and walks out leaving Harry. “Okay what?!”

5) You’re All I See In My Mind (I Think I See A Lifetime) | Explicit | 16312 words

Kitten hybrid Louis gets kicked out of his house. With nowhere to go and a very cold and stormy weather outside, he ends up wandering into Harry’s shed to hide from the thunder and rain (he gets terrified by it). Harry hears crying from the shed so he goes to investigate.

6) Before We Knew | Explicit | 39830 words

Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed onto his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

7) Somebody To Love | Explicit | 51471 words

A hesitant fist hovers, ready to knock on the hard surface, when suddenly the door swings open revealing a small child with a huge smile plastered on her face.

“You’re here, finally!” She beams up at him, haphazardly brushing her orange hair away from her eyes.

He can’t help but let a grin fill his face at her anticipation. Bunching his pants at his ankles, he crouches down to her level. “You must be Margret.”

“Actually, only my daddy calls me that when I’m in trouble,” she explains with an assertive tone. “So you can call me Margo.”

“Well, Margo, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Louis.”

8) Echoes & Omens | Mature | 100707 words

Echoes of the dead come in many forms. Their imprints forever tied to the ones who'd killed them.

Louis Tomlinson is able to track the dead using their echoes, they call to him. He's used that gift to aid Scotland Yard in their investigations, with the hopes of studying Criminology at Cambridge University. He's lived a life of privilege and good fortune as a Marquess, son of the late Duke Tomlinson, with his life mapped out since day one.

Until two terrible truths are revealed.

One, he's adopted.

Two, his biological parents are London's most notorious serial killers.

Against his family's wishes, Louis travels to Chicago to uncover the truth of their incarceration. Much to his dismay, his biological mother's Lawyer, Harry Styles, wants to take his case. Together, they work to uncover what really happened all those years ago, but perhaps more is revealed than they could've ever anticipated. Trapped in a whirlwind of portents and omens, Louis and Harry find themselves pitted against an enemy they'd not foreseen.

9) You Drive Me Crazy (But It Feels Alright) | Teen & Up | 102036 words

“Harry is not short for Harold,” he corrects, his voice as thick as molasses. He lowers his eyes to Louis’ sequined lapels, rubbing one between two fingers. “Is this small or extra small? It looks lovely.”

Louis breaks away from his grip with a petulant huff and pushes him back with two fingers.

“You’re mocking me. Again.”

Harry smiles and it's a real honest swoop of his lips this time. Louis’ stomach swoops with them.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[kaijuno]

A very dear friend of mine has cancer. I don’t want to make you any more anxious or scared, I just want to send a story so you know you’re not alone.

In short, his answer (I suppose) in keeping some grain of sanity is letting go of every goal you’ve had and every insecurity you’ve had for those goals.

For example, he’s always wanted to try a long zip line but was waiting for the right weather. When he processed the words from hospital staff, he came to my house, used my phone and booked a weekend away so he, myself and a few friends could all go zip lining. Only after he did that, he told me the news. We cried and cried and cried.

Of course it’s easier said than done just to stop worrying about it but his logic is that “I’m going to die some day, I’m not immortal, I’m booking these fucking things before I feel I’m sick. Work can fuck off.” That man is now 5 months off chemo treatment and has that same mindset.

I know it’s not a ‘size fits all’ situation, but I thought talking about Stephen might help. He’s going for some archery lessons next week.

[continued from additional messages]

Actually I want to talk about Stephen more.

When he told me he had cancer, we cried for hours and hours. We confessed things that won’t ever be whispered to another soul and kept promises well into the night.

Now we take turns in booking experiences for him in the friend and family circles. We’ve all got a spare mattress for us and a bed for Stephen incase he feels iffy in the house. He booked the zip line weekend, I booked a table in that county, someone else drove us to the seaside to eat fish and chips in the freezing cold car, another person bought us stand up comedy tickets. He’s booked himself and his partner in for archery lessons next week. I’ve secretly bought him, his partner and his parents tickets to see a west end show and a room for the week at some point in the very near future.

Anyway enough listing. Of course he still gets scared, he’s not immune. We all offer a line incase he needs to talk to us at 3am, the nurses are incredible to him, his workplace is advocating for him to get better sick pay. We all offer a shoulder to cry onto (which has been used many times) without smothering him in false hope and premature grief. He has been off chemo for 5 months but of course he’s scared that it will come back.

Stephen is genuinely incredible and if you ever feel scared about the results of your mammogram, there are lines to call and support groups.

Stephen is a very eccentric and marvellous man. He has tweed waistcoats and a green leather armchair and has a collection of pipes he doesn’t smoke anymore. He’s also very laid back and funny. He cooks incredible curries that will burn the mouth off you. He had a phase of making his own chocolate just to understand how it was made. He has a dog called Frank. Frank is a very old man and he’s got a matching dog cover for him with a hood on it.

He’s the type of man that is a great confidant and is incredibly funny. He plays the banjo and harmonica at the same time just to wind up the neighbours. He’s one of those people that are chilled out, easy to talk to and is just so incredibly silly.

I suspect he has a secret library with original manuscripts from the 12th century or something.

Can you tag everything I’ve said with #stephen ?

[End]

Thank you so much for your messages. His mentality is really the mentality I’m trying to have while I’m in limbo here waiting for results. I’m scared. I might die young. I might lose all my hair and weight and will to fight. I might never get to get married or have kids or own a house.

But that doesn’t matter, it can’t matter anymore because if I spend my time being worried sick, I won’t get to enjoy what time, whether it be months or decades, I have left.

[fangirlstorycreator]

Terry CK X Reader

Context: You are out on a bad date, and as you leave, Terry offers to drive you home 💚

You had been talking to this guy you met a few weeks ago, and it seemed to be going well. You were a sensei at the cobra kai dojo and you had told your colleagues about it, and asked if you could leave early Friday so you could get ready for the date. You had asked Terry as he sat in his office if you could "Please Terry? I'm happy to stay late any other night" "Y/N dont worry it's fine, you are more than welcome to leave early" "Oh thank you Terry!" You gave him a little hug and a smile before leave the office to get back to work. Terry watched you leave as he leaned against his open doorway, just watching you, but his face was a war of emotions. He didnt know weather to look happy, concerned, jealous or extied for you. So instead he just looked at you and smiled, knowing that your happiness meant he was happy.

When it was Friday night, you were just leaving the dojo when Terry said to you "I uhh, I hope you have a great night Y/N" "Thank you Terry, i hope it goes well too" Giving him another smile, you turn to walk out and go to your car, and again Terry just smiles at you, hoping you enjoy yourself. You had got home and dressed up nicely for your date, you wore some cute jeans, a white spaghetti strap top and some cute white heels. When you arrived outside the restaurant you spotted your date outside waiting for you. "Hey Jack" "Hey Y/N, oh uh excuse me" That's when you see him throw a cigarette on the floor and stamp on it. He told you before that he didnt smoke, but you could brush it off just this once. However, the date didnt go as well as you hoped.

When you first started seeing him he was very polite to you and listened to you. But tonight he seemed off and didnt really seem to pay you much attention. When you told him something about yourself or your work day, he barley paid listened at all, he would just nod or say 'hmm' or 'yeh' At the end of the date, you both walk outside and it's safe to say you didnt feel very romanced by Jack. "So that was a nice meal wasnt it?" "Yeh sure, it was fine I guess" Again he is just giving off a vibe that makes you feel like he is uninterested. "Listen Jack I'm just going to go-" "No no wait I'm, I'm sorry Y/N. Let me drive you home" You didnt have enough for a taxi and it was a long walk in the dark.

"Alright fine" You both walk to his car and he starts driving you away from the restaurant. But about 5 minutes into the car ride, Jack pulls over to the side of a street. "Jack this isnt my flat?" "Yeh I know, look I know this evening didnt go to plan but.....maybe this night doesn't have to be a complete waist" "Look Jack your right about this night not going to plan, but I think this is where this has to end. We just dont have any chemistr-" He interrupts you by kissing you, but you push him away. "Jack what the hell are you doing?!" "Oh come on just a quicky? Come on I paid for dinner" "Jack no, so either take me home or I'm getting out of the car-" But once again, he leans into kiss you, and your having none of it. "Jack get off me!" "Just loosen up Y/N, hear let me help you with tha-" "I said get off of me!"

He wont take his hands off you and when he reaches for your top, he tears your strap on your shoulder. "Get Off!" You shout as you slap him right across the face. Everything is quiet for a moment, and your absolutely furious with him. "You are the rudest man I have ever met, if you ever come near me again, i will beat you into the ground" and with that, you get out of his car and slam the door behind you. You were so angry and hurt by Jack's behaviour, and even storming down the road wasnt calming you down, even tears were running down your cheeks. You were cold and it was dark out, your way only lit by street lights, and to top it all you shirt was ripped and you didnt know how to fix it.

You were about 10 minutes into your walk back home when you hear a car pull up next to you at the side of the street. "Y/N? Is that you?" When you turn to see who it is, you see Terry sat in his car next to you. "Terry? What are you doing?" "I was just coming back from John's for some dinner- ......wait a second, why are you out hear on your own? What happens to your date?" He looks over and notices your top strap, and you shyly try to hide it. "And why is your shirt-......" You hadn't seen Terry look so angry so quickly before, he opens the car door and is right at your side looking at your shoulder. "What did that bastard do? God you've been crying too. Sweetheart what did-" "Terry, Terry calm down please. He didnt...he uh, he tried but...he didnt..."

Anger is still radiating through him, and his eyes look concerned at you as you try to reassure him, you even rest your hand on his arm. "Sweetheart did he do this?" He asks as he gestures to your arm. "Yeh umm, yeh he did" It looks like his heart breaks a little inside at the thought of you going though that kind of situation. "I'm so sorry this happend to you, you didn't deserve that at all" "Its alright Terry I'm fine. I may have left a large red hand print across his face" you giggle slightly and Terry smiles at you. "Can I take you home?" "Terry i would really like that. Thank you" Before he opens the car door for you, he takes of his jacket and puts it around your shoulders to cover your broken top and to keep you warm. "Thank you Terry....your very sweet" "No need to thank me sweetheart......anything for you"

You both look deeply into eachothers eyes for a moment, it was really nice. Then you both get into the car and Terry starts driving you home. "Are you sure your alright Y/N?" "Yeh I'm fine, I'm just happy I dont have to waist anymore time around that asshole. I thought at the start, he was so nice you know? But then he just acted like he didnt even care about me tonight. And then the whole..." you gesture to your shoulder "Situation happened and....it just really made me feel so..." "So what?" "I don't know, kind of....like I was something to be used instead of a person" Terry pulls up outside your place, stops the car and sits up to turn and face you. "Sweetheart now you listen to me. I dont want you to ever think of yourself in that way"

"Terry it's fine-" "No, no it's not. You may not see it but I do. There are some guys out there that wont understand how to treat a woman like you. You are one of those woman who is incredibly rare to find. You have the kindest heart and the sweetest smile, and everytime you enter a room you shine brighter than any star. When I saw you out there by yourself tonight it made my blood boil, you deserve a man who will worship the ground you walk on and will do everything to make you smile. Because you have the most beautiful....beautiful smile..." You cant get over how sweet he is being to you, he is such a wonderful man and hes being such a gentleman. You smile, look away slightly and tuck your hair behind you ear. "Would you, would you mind just pulling that jacket down a little?" He says as he gestures to you, you trust him with your life so do as he says and pull down the jacket to reveal your bare shoulder.

He smiles warmly and reaches into his glove compartment, and when his hand comes back out, he is holding a white and shiny ribbon. He leans over to you, takes your broken strap and ties it back up with the ribbon into a cute little bow. "Oh Terry, that's so kind of you. Where did you get this ribbon?" "It was mine from many years ago. I used to wear it in my pony tail when I was in my thirties" "Are you sure you dont want it back? If its yours-" He gently rests his hand on top of yours "Please sweetheart, i want you to have it" "Well...thank you Terry, this means a lot to me. And thank you again for taking me home tonight, it really cheered me up" "Anything for you sweetheart" He gets out of the car, opens your door and you both walk to your front door together. "Hears your jacket Terry" "That wont be necessary Y/N, you can give it back to me when you come back to the dojo" "Oh, thank you Terry. I uhh, I'm really thankful for everything you have done tonight" You lean on your tiptoes and give him a kiss on the cheek, and he smiles happily at you.

You say your goodbyes and you head into your flat, while Terry smiles to himself and gets back into his car. As he sit in his car, he pulls out his phone and calls one of his contacts. "Hey Lucas? Yeh its Terry. Listen I need you to get me the details of a guy named Jack Brooklyn. I need to know where he works and his contact details. Yeh, it's safe to say that this guy needs to be taught a lesson. What did he do? Well he messed with someone I truly care about and he is going to pay for his choices. Oh dont worry, I'm going to shop him no mercy...."

[madenvs3000f23]

Blog 5

Although I am finding it interesting to learn about different aspects of nature interpretation and being able to talk about them through our blogs, doing a blog post on what we are thinking about is just what I need this time of the semester! As we have all been getting through midterms and making our way through the semester, I have personally spent the last week trying to enjoy the last of the warm weather before the cold front comes in. Last week I was swimming in the river near my house on the days that were 25+ degrees and this week I am getting out my hats and scarves because the wind is so chilly! 

 For this blog post I am going to take the opportunity to talk a bit more about where I live and my favourite animal, turtles! Bear with my thoughts as I try to reign them in through this blog post! If you have read my first blog post, you probably already know how much I love my little slice of heaven called Eden Mills. I am always happy to brag about our town and I feel that it fits so well with this course that I have to talk about it! Currently I volunteer through RARE with turtle conservation in my village. Ideally after graduating, I would love to continue to work in turtle conservation (preferably somewhere warm and on the ocean) as they are a species that is so highly impacted by humans, whether it be through garbage dumped in the ocean or what we see more locally of turtles being hit by cars as we build roads through their wetlands. 

 When I’m out either waiting for the baby turtles to hatch or waiting for a turtle to finish laying her eggs people will often stop and ask me why I do it. A valid question as I’m sometimes waiting for hours on end! It gives me the opportunity to talk about turtles and why I care so much and hopefully it inspires them to care as well! I feel that this course will really help me when I’m in a situation like that again where I get to interpret the life of turtles to someone who has taken the time to ask me about it. For example, even if I release 100 babies safely in a wetland in the appropriate place (muddy shallow water with lots of coverage, babies spread out so they are not too close together in case a heron comes along), there is a very low chance that any of them will make it to sexual maturity. Although all this information might not be as interesting to others as it is to me, something that can usually get people interested is the release of baby turtles! Being able to find something that can grab the audience’s attention then gives us the opportunity to share this other information with them. 

I've attached some pictures of the babies I got to participate in releasing this year! I hope you enjoy!

[codenamehazard]

InFAMOUS Headcanon: Storm clouds and rainy days

Hello! It's cold where I'm at so I decided why not jot down some more headcanons about my favorite character, Cole MacGrath, and see what everyone else thinks! Hope you guys like it!

If Empire City is similar in climate to it's real world counterpart, then I'd imagine that overcast skies, dreary weather and the odd storm are fairly common sights in inFAMOUS' version of the city that never sleeps.

That being said, I bet Cole had a bit of a love-hate relationship with rain and storms, even before his powers were awakened. Being a bike courier means he probably had to deliver packages to people in some really foul weather before. The only thing that would stop the company he worked for from sending him out to make his rounds is if Mother Nature was really baring her teeth, severe weather like massive storms, hurricanes, blizzards, coldsnaps, things that could get a person killed and all.

In this regard, Cole's isn't a fan of being out in particularly poor weather, even with wearing the proper clothing for the conditions, it's still miserable to be cold and wet, especially if the wind was cutting though the layers he put on. There have been a few times the poor man was stood outside in the rain, waiting for the recipient of a package to come and take it so he can be on his way to the next delivery.

Rainy days also didn't make for good days to be out and doing some urban exploration. Wet bars and poles made him one slip away from a broken neck or back and even as skilled as he is, there will be days he will misjudge a landing and if the ground is wet, that misjudged landing will give him a one-way ticket to slipping and landing on his ass. Makes for light hearted stories later, but they aren't funny in the moment.

On the other hand, if he knows he has a day off during a rainy day and he's not planning on being outside any longer than 5 minutes at a time, he does enjoy the soft pitter-patter of rain on the roof. He knows he's gonna be waking up bright-eyed and bushy tailed in the morning when a storm rolls through at night. The distant rolling of thunder and pattering of rain acting like a lullaby for Cole. Helping to quiet his busy mind and he sleeps like a baby.

After the blast, some things do change a little.

His distain for being out in rainy days intensifies. He already didn't like being out in the rain before, but now with his powers, it's even more of a nuisance. The rain falling on him making him look more like a human bug-zapper than he usually does. I could imagine that while the rain doesn't hurt him like being submerged in water does, the electricity popping off of his body from being coated in rainwater probably is still irritating to him, like pins and needles all over his body. He might entertain a light misting or drizzle, but a downpour? Nope. The Electric Man is taking shelter somewhere where he's not looking like a drowned rat that just got electrocuted.

Thunderstorms on the other hand? Hooooooh boy.

I'd imagine that Cole's powers of electrokinesis (radar pulse specifically) would give him a slight ability to sense changes in the weather, it's not to the extent of being able to accurately predict the weather to a T, but it's enough to give him an idea of what he should be expecting so he can plan and dress accordingly.

With this in mind, when the Demon of Empire City senses the tell-tale indicators that a storm is coming? Good luck getting him indoors. That man is gonna be outside as is he was wanting to challenge every single god of thunder in every pantheon he can think of.

Seeing as he can absorb natural lightning, thunderstorms are the perfect opportunity for Cole to really flex his powers and experiment, seeing as he pretty much as unlimited energy, not to mention he feels like a total badass doing so. It's the prime chance to go absolutely hogwild on everything. Enemies quickly learn to stay hidden during thunderstorms and the citizens best hope that the lightning they see crashing from the sky is blue and not red, lest the Demon come a-knocking.

As for his opinion on rainy and stormy nights? That hasn't changed, if anything, he's even more thankful for them so long as he has a place to sleep that's out of the rain. Stormy nights are a little bit harder to fall asleep to as his body naturally wants to get in on that electric goodness crashing outside, but once he's out, he's out like a light.

The rainy and stormy nights are now one of the few times when Cole can actually get a decent amount of shut eye post-blast. Nature's lullaby calming Cole's mind, drowning out the thoughts caused from his PTSD. (let's be real, with all the crap he went though? He most likely has some form of it.) The demons that plague him in his sleep are quieted by the gentle sounds and the heaviness of the systems acting like a weighted blanket on his body, it calms the Electric Man enough to get a nice, deep and restful sleep. One where his body is fully relaxed and the expression on his face is one of peace and contentment.

----

Sorry if this is a novel, but I hope everyone likes it!

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

opinion on trains?

I love train travel for personal reasons, but my visceral opinion on trains is that they're a "second-best" mode of transit. I haven't taken a plane since 2005 and am (to my surprise) not tempted, because flying feels like a really extreme method of travel. I've been on a lot of trains, and trains are wonderful, but I would say they're not actually wonderful, because they have a lot of major shortcomings in terms of comfort, time, etc.

For instance, trains are much slower than planes, but trains don't have airports. This means that sometimes, the best way to get between two cities is to take a train to one city, spend a night there, then take a train to the other city. If you're coming from New York to SF, you can spend all night in Chicago and arrive in SF the next morning. This requires two nights and two flights, or one night and two trains. (Although it's a bit less of an issue for East Coast and West Coast, since Chicago is on the route to SF for both of them.) If you have to fly between those cities (or between New York and Chicago), this is the better option, even though you have to wait overnight and take a train.

Of course you can make a train route from New York to SF through Chicago (there is one), but then you're crossing the country, and you'll take 4-5 nights for a trip that could be done in 2. (In this case you'd spend two nights in Chicago and two nights in New Orleans, a stop on the train route from NYC to Chicago.) The quality of sleep on a train is no worse than sleep in a bed, but you've lost one night, and I have work to do, so . . .

Another thing: trains just aren't very smooth. Sometimes they lurch around in a way that feels unsafe, and some seats are always moving around. If the train has a rocky ride, you don't have the ability to correct for this -- planes always have some sort of sway, but you're used to it and can ignore it. If you're sitting on the floor of a train car and it lurches, you're going to fuck up your knees; if you're on a plane, you just sit and things are fine.

(Speaking of rocky rides, I was once on a train from NYC to DC on a day when the Penn Station track area was experiencing a lot of unusually bad weather, which meant that the trip was slowed down a lot. A guy on the train said something like "it's not bad, I just have to be careful where I stand." I was like "if I were in the subway right now I'd be okay," but this guy was like "well, sure, but the subway is one of the most frequently used train systems in the world. The subway was built with weather like this in mind. This train is running on a line that wasn't built until 1830 and is probably not well-sheltered, and I have to be careful where I stand." And I was like "fair enough")

Another thing: I think trains are just bad for being in a rush, or trying to be somewhere in a relatively short amount of time. (This may be a defect of train systems that are generally more sprawling and less geared towards speed.) If I'm catching a train in Providence at 5 pm and I have to be at my destination by 6:30, I can't be sure that I'm going to make it, because the train system just isn't built around that speed. I once took a train that was 15 minutes late from Providence to NYC and had to get on the next train and got to NYC an hour later than I'd hoped. This just wouldn't happen with a plane!

The best thing about trains is "people watching." Train-going people are really nice and interesting, and the atmosphere of a train is much more like an ordinary social event than, say, a plane (but better, because nobody is being overtly suspicious). A plane, by contrast, feels like an ordinary place of work -- I mean that in a neutral, descriptive way, not in the sense of "lol airplanes" -- and people just feel slightly cold and strange. If I have a lot of work I'd rather do, I'd rather be on a train, where I can also read stuff in the lounge car, or talk to the people around me, or watch the scenery, or do small bits of work as a way to earn my way. (I have no objection to asking people for their thoughts on trains)

[nancypullen]

Oh, Happy Day!

What a week it’s been and it’s just Wednesday.  Last Saturday we celebrated the grandgirl’s birthday (5!) and her big surprise was a trip to Disney World! They whisked her away the very next morning and she has been in princess paradise ever since.  The texts we’ve received with pictures show her living her best life.  It’s so sweet, and a little hilarious.  Oh, I wish I could share photos - you’d love it. Unfortunately, her parents have a strict rule about splashing her all over the internet and I don’t blame them one bit. Suffice it to say that I’m living vicariously through her, and it’s pure joy. So I’m flying high from all of that fun, and this is also the week that our cabinets are being painted!  I don’t even have the words to explain how happy that makes me. The company that we hired has impressed me.  They showed up early Monday morning and got right to work. They sanded and primed, and when they exited at the end of the day they left the kitchen spotless.  Not even a speck of dust from the sanding. The primer cured for a day, so they came back today and applied two coats of paint. That’ll sit for a day and on Friday they’ll bring our doors back (those went to their shop to be sanded, primed, and painted) and hang them and touch up anything that needs it. The cabinets look SO good. I’m excited!  I can’t wait to get this kitchen finished. All it will take to shut me up is granite, a new sink, and a new faucet.   I’m not high maintenance, I swear.  I was promised these changes when we bought the house.  Although I do have some ideas for a bathroom remodel...

 Anywho, I had Mickey take before photos of the kitchen so when it’s all finally complete I can share it here.  Night and day! Because the kitchen has been out of commission, I haven’t done as much cooking.  Last night we had salads. Tonight I picked up dinner from Shore Gourmet. Apparently there is a local delicacy that we hadn’t heard of - Chesapeake Chicken.  Grilled chicken breasts topped with crabmeat and imperial sauce.  Holy cow, delicious!  When I pulled the container out to warm it for dinner I told Mickey, “Hey, look! The longer I heat this the more people it will feed!”

I told him that I should call tomorrow and complain, “I heated it for 50 minutes and all I got was a dry two-person meal.”  Anyway, it was really yummy.  We’re stuffed. We definitely can’t eat that way every night, but in a pinch it was a good choice. Speaking of good choices, when I die I want to comeback as a house cat.  Our girls have it made.  This morning I snapped a picture of Molly and laughed when I noticed the background.  I’ll start at the beginning. Remember the saga of my poor back? I hurt it when I packed up the Mt. Juliet house and I was really struggling with pain down my legs as a result.  Physical therapy is the answer so because I am who I am, I looked up the stretches I’d be told to do at PT an just started doing them. Massive difference!  So now when I wake up I slide a heating pad under my lower back, and do my stretches.  I can pretty much move through my day pain free if I start that way.  When I’m finished, I put the heating pad aside and make the bed. I usually toss it on top of the trunk under the window, and Molly claims it immediately.

There’s my spoiled house cat, and just through the window, waiting patiently under the bird feeder is Stanley, an outdoor cat. He waits for an inattentive or slow bird, Molly waits for the sound of a can opener.  I wonder which one is happier?  On this sunny and warm day, I’d say Stanley.  Last week’s cold weather would have tipped the odds in Molly’s favor.  We don’t know much about Stanley.  I’m not even sure of his gender.  He’s got a tipped ear with a number tattooed inside, so he’s a stray that’s been neutered (or spayed). He’s hefty, so he’s not missing any meals. He also looks healthy - bright eyes and silky fur.  He’s sweet, too.  Mickey is afraid I’ll move him in, but I don’t think Stanley is interested.  I hope I have his gender right, I’d hate to have to change his name at this point. I suppose he could be a  Hazel or a Mavis.  That’s about it from my corner of the world. I’m ready to go upstairs and soak in a bubble bath. A steamy soak, then warm covers and a good book. What a great way to end the day.  I hope that you’re just as cozy and have plenty to be happy about - bet you could list at least three things right now.  You have internet, you can read, and I’m finally wrapping up this post.  See? Easy three. Sending out loads of love tonight. Grab some for yourself. Stay safe, stay well.

Nancy