#and of course I will most certainly procure more little guys should there ever be more released in the future

[seafoodsoda]

@waywardstation Got My two new keychains today!

My collection of Ingo and Ghost Type Dangles Grows 😁✨

[ladykissingfish]

Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Eight // Kakuzu

What is with this group and wasting their free time doing such inane and pointless things? The old guy can think of at least 50 other activities (the majority of which involve making money) that everyone could be doing, rather than lining up to kiss each under a little green plant. When it’s his turn in the spotlight, he tries as hard as he can to back out of his “obligation” ... but Pein (and Kakuzu’s own persistent partner, Hidan) insist that Kakuzu participate. Kakuzu sighs and nods; he’s smart enough to know when he’s been defeated. However, Pein should know that Kakuzu will be adding a little extra money to his paycheck that week, for “hazard pay”.

Pein

Nagato was more interested in Kakuzu joining his group than any of the others. Immortality, money-sense, expertise and wisdom ... this is the man who survived the wars of the past. This is the man who survived the mighty Hashirama, God of all shinobi. Still, Nagato is no fool; he realizes that Kakuzu’s number one priority in life isn’t the Akatsuki, but money. Kakuzu would probably (and had likely thought about) betray them all in exchange for a tidy sum. So Nagato (as Pein) works to keep Kakuzu content enough to remain loyal, including making him the group’s treasurer and giving him complete control over everyone’s finances. And Kakuzu remains highly useful; strategizing, completing missions twice as fast (and ten times as efficient) as his younger teammates. Pein approaches Kakuzu and gives him a light kiss on the forehead, before returning to his room. He reminds himself to speak to Kakuzu later; he has some ideas about weapons he’d like to procure for the group, and needs to see if it would be financially feasible to do so.

Konan

Kakuzu genuinely likes Konan, and appreciates her company. Many men of Kakuzu’s generation were raised on the belief system that women were solely meant to be wives, child-bearers, and home-makers; to call a female a ninja was deemed unthinkable. But Kakuzu was a rarity in that he never saw this as being the case; man or woman, one’s inner strength was all that mattered in regards to being a shinobi. He’s spoken with Konan at length about her childhood, and the trauma she endured, and he knows that this little blue-haired lady is a sight tougher than a LOT of people (and Kakuzu’s met quite a few in his long life). Konan walks up to him and he smiles; it’s rare for Kakuzu to smile, but Konan brings it out of him. “Good evening, Kakuzu-san. I think it’s my turn.” He nods, and slips off his mask so that his lips are exposed. He leans down and very, very gently kisses her cheek. Her blushing skin is soft and her smile is beautiful as she thanks him and steps away, to let the next person go.

Kisame

Nobody knows this about Kakuzu (and he fears he would be mocked if they did), but the old guy puts a lot of emphasis on the idea of exercise. Five hearts is a lot of responsibility, and staying healthy is how Kakuzu intends to keep living forever. So every night, when the others are asleep and after he’s done with his reading, he’ll spend some time in his room exercising. One night Kisame passed by his open door and saw him using a pair of heavy books as make-shift weights. The next evening Kisame came to Kakuzu’s room with a set of real barbells , which he casually gave to Kakuzu with the admonition not to overdo it. Kakuzu greatly appreciated the gesture (and the unspoken support), and the two have been good friends ever since. But ... a kiss between them would just be too strange, so Kisame comes up with a better option: an arm-wrestling match, Kisame grabs the kitchen table and two chairs and sets them up under the mistletoe. Of course the rest of the Akatsuki gathers to watch, hooting and hollering and placing bets on who will win. Kisame and Kakuzu are both fairly evenly matched, so that challenge goes on for a while. Finally, with a final grunt of exertion, Kakuzu is able to slam Kisame’s hand into the table. Everyone claps, and Kisame laughs and tells Kakuzu that he’s “one tough son of a bitch”; high compliment coming from a man who was half-shark.

Itachi

Out of all the members of the Akatsuki, Itachi was by far the least problematic of the younger ones. Quiet, thoughtful, quick and efficient in completing missions. And polite; always forthcoming with “please” and “thank you”, and never failing to use honorifics with the others, even though some of them (ie Deidara and Hidan) don’t show him that same respect back. One time Kakuzu had caught a cold that stubbornly hung on for several days. Itachi came to his room every day with a cup of congestion-easing tea, something that Kakuzu didn’t ask for, but greatly appreciated nonetheless. Itachi comes up to him and nods. “Kakuzu-san.” “Itachi-san.” Itachi leans up and gives him a light kiss to the cheek, and Kakuzu is struck by a particular urge — to hug this kid. Something about him, perhaps everything about him, seems like a cry for parental love and affection. Kakuzu resists this odd impulse, but Itachi seems to sense that it’s something he wanted, because he leans over again and very briefly puts his arms around the older man. “Thank you,” he murmurs, before walking away. Kakuzu watches him go, slightly shaking his head.

Tobi

Tobi gives Kakuzu an uneasy feeling deep within his heart(s). Running around, speaking loudly, eating nothing but candy and sweets, acting like a complete fool — it’s an act. Kakuzu has never been more convinced of anything in his life. The only question is, why is Tobi putting on this act? To deceive them all into a false sense of security, before striking? Kakuzu has hunted bounties a good deal of his life, and a lot of the more difficult ones to catch have acted EXACTLY the way Tobi does, in order to throw off potential bounty hunters. Kakuzu learned to see through them, the same way he sees through Tobi. But to tip one’s hand and give away what you know is unthinkable in the chase and capture game, so Kakuzu never lets on what he actually believes. “Oh boy Kakuzu-san; does Tobi get a kissy now?!” Kakuzu nods, and Tobi slides his mask halfway off (Kakuzu notes the lines on the side of his face; accident, most likely. Possibly a disfiguring one) and the strange glint of his eye. Before Tobi can act, Kakuzu puts a hand on his face and kisses his forehead. “There. Now go.” Tobi slides the mask back on and hurries away with his usual chatter and giggling, and Kakuzu reminds himself to loom through the bingo book later for bounties with visible scarring on the left side of the face.

Zetsu

Five hearts means more blood needed to sustain said hearts. More blood means a stronger scent. A stronger scent means ... Kakuzu smells delicious to someone like Zetsu. Zetsu approaches him and looks around quickly; the two are alone. His brain runs through every possible scenario in which he could successfully kill and eat Kakuzu. He’s victorious in a few ... but most end with him mutilated by the man’s tentacles, and having to face the wrath of Pein on top of everything else. So he simply sighs, flicks out his tongue to taste the saltiness of Kakuzu’s cheek, and walks away again. Just that one taste was almost enough to make zetsu throw restraint to the wind and eat his fill, so he leaves before he can do anything he’ll regret. Kakuzu wipes off his cheek in mild disgust ... in a group full of freaks, Zetsu certainly seemed to take the cake.

Deidara

Kakuzu still remembers the day they brought this kid into the group. And that’s exactly what he was; a kid. Barely 15 years old, with a powerful “gift”, and full of anger at a village he felt betrayed him in not trying to understand his unique sense of ‘art’. Fast forward several years later and Deidara had changed, and most of that change was the better. Kakuzu could only surmise that the kid matured due to the constant council and guidance of his older and wiser partner Sasori; Kakuzu feels mildly jealous that Sasori was able to reign some measure of improvement over HIS young partner, but Kakuzu couldn’t do a thing with Hidan. Still, though, even Sasori hadn’t been able to completely tame the kid, as evidenced by Deidara managing to get BOTH arms blown off in a tussle with some Konoha nin. Kakuzu had been tasked with sewing his new arms back on, but to the kids credit, despite his painful the procedure had been, he didn’t utter a sound. Had even thanked Kakuzu, twice, afterwards. Deidara walks up to him and looks almost shy; 19 years old now and still with the face of a child. Kakuzu leans down and kisses the kid’s forehead, again noting his soft and smooth — and LONG — his hair was. It sways as Deidara walks away, and Kakuzu wonders how much he could get for those luscious locks, from the right buyer.

Sasori

Respect. Out of all the words that Kakuzu could use to describe how he felt about Sasori, Respect was at the top of the list. And the funny thing was, Kakuzu hadn’t even met the REAL Sasori until almost a year of being in the Akatsuki. The two had been sent on a mission, and at night, near the campfire, a soft metal sound made Kakuzu turn his head. It was a small, slender redhead, emerging from the being that Kakuzu had THOUGHT was a real person. The two had looked at each other for a while, and then started a game of cards as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As time went on, the two became closer. They both shared an interest in/knowledge of medical jutsu and procedures, and would often come to one another with questions or with articles on different medicines. Kakuzu nods at him as he walks up, and Sasori does the same. He thinks about it, bends down and kisses Sasori’s left cheek, and Sasori smiles at him, bidding him a quiet Good Evening before going back to his room.

Hidan

“Hey old fuck; you’ve been dying to get your hands on my sexy body all day, haven’t ya, pervert?” Kakuzu would roll his eyes at Hidan’s comment, but at this point, he’s ridiculously used to the things his partner says and does. As he looks at Hidan’s face, he wonders, and not for the first time, whether this is a punishment of sorts. Gaining five hearts and creating a kind of immortality only came for Kakuzu at the end of a long and bloody road, one paved with the unwilling sacrifices of other people. Was it Fate, that the Gods had put THIS man, this loud, overbearing, foul-mouthed heathen, into his path? And as the one person who just might be immortal, too? Hidan often joked about “When all these other assholes bite the big one, me and you might as well get married, bastard.” But what in the world was he saying? Surely he was joking; why would someone as young and attractive as Hidan want to be with Kakuzu? Kakuzu who was heaven knows how many times Hidan’s age, and — “So we gonna slobber each other or what?” “You’ve got a big mouth, brat. Learn to shut up once in a while.” “MAKE me shut up, fuck-face.” So Kakuzu grabs Hidan around the waist, tilts him back, and sinks into his lips. Kakuzu’s mouth is rough and scarred but Hidan’s is smooth and soft, and the contrast creates a dizzying effect for both men. Hidan grasps Kakuzu’s shoulders tighter, leaving slight nail-prints in Kakuzu’s flesh. Their lips are touching but in this moment it feels like everything is touching, even their very souls (if either of them still had one, that is). When Kakuzu finally breaks the kiss and pulls Hidan back up, the white-haired immortal seems fairly disorientated ... but that doesn’t stop his mouth. “You’re an even bigger pervert than I thought, old fuck. Who the hell said you could stick your tongue in my mouth?? And why —” Kakuzu suddenly reaches out and grabs Hidan’s face with both hands, this time pulling him forward into a very soft, closed-mouth kiss. “Better?” Instead of a smartass answer, Hidan simply nods; and now he’s smiling as he walks away. If he were to turn around at any point, he’d surely gasp; because Kakuzu’s smile was even bigger than Hidan’s own. “Stupid kid,” Kakuzu mutters to himself, still smiling as he makes his way back to his room.

[omgrachwrites]

The Book of Love - Chapter One

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Ravenclaw!Reader

Summary: After a breakup leaves you heartbroken and miserable, things start to change for the better when you begin exchanging notes in a library book with a mystery boy.

Warnings: lil bit of angst, fluff, lil bit of swearing, Sirius being the best friend ever, Remus being adorable

Words: 2362

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me!

A/N: This is for @hp-imagines-07 writing challenge so I hope you all enjoy! I wanted to add more friendship in this to go along with the romance which is why the first part of this chapter focuses on Sirius’ and Y/N’s friendship so I hope that’s okay! Please let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged, I love you all! xxx

Chapter One

The beautiful summer’s day had started out perfectly, you and your family were staying at your grandmother’s estate over the summer holiday. Your grandmother owned a good few acres of land, meaning that you could have your space if you needed it. That morning you had been mesmerized by the way that the sun rose in the sky, all pink and beautiful, casting a blush of magic over all the land, as far as the eye could see.

Though, that beauty and wonder all seemed to be distant memories now as you stared at the front page of The Daily Prophet like you had been doing for the last few hours. Rage and sadness filled your chest like an inferno. What had you done to deserve this? Blinking away angry tears, you ripped off the front page of the newspaper that read, ‘Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black announce their surprise engagement,’ and you crumpled it up into a ball as you stalked across the lush green lawn.

You finally let out a deep breath, one that you hadn’t realised you had been holding in as you leaned against the white marquee and you tried to concentrate on the sweet smell of the honeysuckle and the cheerful song of the lark. You were startled when you heard a loud crack from across the lawn and you glanced up to see it was your childhood best friend and he was walking towards you with a look of sympathy on his face. Sighing you quickly wiped your eyes, you didn’t want or need his sympathy and you certainly didn’t want him to see you cry.

“What the hell are you doing here Sirius?” you asked, your tone was sharp and defensive as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

An expression of polite surprise flitted its way across his features before his face was transformed with a smirk, “well, you see, I knew you were staying here so I apparated, took my test early you know,” you gave him a sharp look and he sighed, holding his hands up in defence, “I came to see if you were okay. Considering my cousin is now engaged to your ex-boyfriend,” he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

You sighed as you smiled at him gratefully and you rested your head against his chest, “at least I know why he dumped me at the start of summer,” you shrugged, you had been staring at that front page for hours and you now felt quite numb, “I should have known something was wrong but I guess he wanted to know what it was like to go out with someone who was never good enough for him.”

Sirius tutted at your words and he shook his head incredously at you, “how can you think that way Y/N? You were way too good for that slime ball.”

You giggled at your friend’s words and smiled at him before you closed your eyes and basked in the warm sunshine, “honestly, I’m more annoyed that Narcissa would do this to me, I mean, I know that we weren’t best friends but we were at least friends.”

Sirius’ fingers toyed with the ends of your hair, “you know that you can hang around with me and my friends anytime you want don’t you? Lily and Alice really like you and I know they would love it if another girl joined our group. My friends like you for some crazy unknown reason,” he joked and you pushed at his shoulder, shooting him a death glare.

“Shut it! Otherwise, I’ll hex you and damage that pretty face; I’m a delight to be around,” you smirked, “but really, thank you Sirius. I really do appreciate it but I don’t want to impose.”

Sirius frowned at your words before he shook his head, “Y/N, you’re my best friend, don’t tell James that I just said that,” he chuckled, “you could never impose.”

You felt a sudden wash of affection for Sirius as you beamed and gave him a quick hug, “thank you,” you mumbled against his chest before pulling away, “so how are you?”

Sirius grinned as he shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I’m good, really I am now that I don’t live with my mum and dad anymore.”

You nodded understandingly, you knew just how much heartache and torture that he’d endured in that dark house, “you never have to go back there Sirius. Now,” you smiled, clapping your hands, “do you want to stay for dinner?” you asked as you walked up towards the house.

“Ah yes, my ulterior motive for coming to see you,” he smirked, throwing his arm around your shoulders, “as long as your grandmother doesn’t try and set us up again.”

You made a face at his words and you gagged, it was true enough that Sirius had devastatingly good looks but there had only ever been friendship between the two of you and you both liked it that way, “no offense but you’re like my brother.”

“I completely agree and besides if I made a move on you, Remus would never forgive me.”

You weren’t looking at Sirius but you could just hear the smirk in his voice. You frowned and cocked your head to the side as you thought of the handsome boy with the tousled hair and the stars in his eyes. Remus was one of Sirius’ best friends but you had never seen him as anything more than that, he was an absolute sweetheart though. Besides, after Lucius you didn’t really want to jump into anything with anyone just yet, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Though, you did crave the romance.

“You’re so full of shit!” you laughed loudly and pushed him so hard that he stumbled. It was a relief when you walked into the cool house that was alive with so many amazing smells. Sirius sniffed the air with a look of appreciation, “we have a guest over for dinner guys!” you grinned as you pulled Sirius into the kitchen.

He hung back sheepishly, looking uncharacteristically shy but your mother beamed when she saw him, “it’s so lovely to see you Sirius!” she enveloped him into a warm hug and you noticed that Sirius returned the hug just as tight. You all knew that he hadn’t had a lot of motherly hugs.

“Good to see you again son,” your father smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he shook Sirius’ hand.

“Thank you so much for having me,” Sirius grinned.

Your grandmother had been watching this whole interaction with a wicked smirk on her face, “yes welcome Sirius, and please make yourself at home. Who knows, you two might be coming up here alone in years to come.”

Groaning internally, you rolled your eyes and exchanged an amused look with Sirius, “we’re just friends Grandma.”

Your grandmother shrugged, “you can’t crush an old woman’s dream my dear,” she smiled at the both of you before she resume cooking.

Dinner that evening was a joyful occasion; it always was when you were staying with your grandmother. There was lots of laughter and beaming smiles, the only downside was the fact that your parents wouldn’t let you or Sirius try any of the Fire Whiskey. But you were sure that when you got back to school, Sirius would work his charm on the barmaid in The Three Broomsticks and you were be able to procure some.

Ever since you and Sirius were children your parents always treated Sirius with warmth and they had always made him feel like part of the family, and for that you were very grateful. After dessert you gave Sirius a hug as he stood on the doorstep, “I’ll see you at school, thank you for coming to see if I was okay.”

Sirius grinned as he smoothed your hair down, “you’re very welcome, I know that you’d do the same for me, thank you for having me around for dinner,” he hesitated, “think about what I said about Remus, not for me but for yourself. You deserve happiness Y/N and Remus is a great guy.”

You smiled lightly at him, “goodnight Sirius.”

Sirius nodded in understanding but you couldn’t miss the look of disappointment on his face as he turned to leave. You didn’t want to tell Sirius that you weren’t looking to get caught up with anyone. You had always been hopeless in love, perhaps that was why you craved the romance, you craved every part of it like something out of a fairy tale. Though, unbeknownst to you, fate worked in mysterious ways.

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Remus had sorely missed this, he had missed the hustle and bustle of the magical world, there were hundreds of magical children filling up the platform and he noticed that most of them seemed to be in little huddled groups. There were all whispering about something and they were all looking in the same direction. With a raised eyebrow Remus’ hazel eyes followed their gaze but he didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. He finally found his friends and greeted them with a grin as they began to walk the length of the platform.

“I think that Y/N is going to be hanging round with us more this year,” Sirius said and almost instantly Remus felt heat travel up from his toes and settled on his cheeks, his whole body felt hot and his insides had turned to mush. He had had a crush on Y/N since their third year but he’d never really worked up the courage to talk to her properly.

Lily let out a sigh of relief as she combed her fingers through her long red hair, “that’s great, I really like Y/N. Don’t you Remus?” Lily smirked over at him and he glared back at her, his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“Yeah o-of course I like her. How come she’ll be spending more time with us?”                    

James raised an eyebrow as he leaned over Sirius to look at Remus, “you did see the newspaper right?”

Remus sighed as he nodded, “yeah I saw it,” the guy she had been dating last term was now engaged to someone who used to be her friend. He couldn’t imagine how sad and angry she felt.

“You’re so full of shit Malfoy; I can’t believe you’d do this!” Remus glanced up as he heard the angry voice and he saw Y/N talking to Lucius Malfoy.

She looked beautiful – but so sad – as she shook her head, turning away from Lucius, still looking over her shoulder at him. She walked right into Remus’ chest and she gasped as she dropped her book on the tarmac. Remus smiled and reached out his hands to steady her.

“Remus, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I should have been,” she flushed and looked up at him with a small smile.

Remus grinned as he shook his head, “honestly, don’t worry about it Y/N,” he bent down to pick her book up and he smiled when he saw the front cover, “The Fellowship of the Ring? The Lord of the Rings is my favourite book series,” he chuckled as he held out her book.

“Thank you,” Y/N smiled as she took the book from him, “it was difficult to get into but I really like it so far,” she smiled with a nod. Her smile was so beautiful that for once, Remus was lost for words and all he could do was smile back.

“So, Y/N. Do you want to sit with us?” Y/N’s eyes tore away from Remus’ face as she looked at Lily who looked very excited. She looked like Christmas had come early.

“That would be amazing, thank you Lily,” she flushed and Lily took her hand in hers, smiling at her.

“You’re welcome; Alice and I could really use another girl in our group. We are overrun by testosterone,” Lily smirked over at her boyfriend who gasped and looked scandalized.

“How dare you?” Frank, Alice’s boyfriend gasped playfully, making everyone laugh as they boarded the train.

Peter groaned quietly as he folded his arms, “please don’t spend hours talking about shopping and boys or whatever. I don’t think that I could take it.”

Remus sighed and closed his eyes, massaging his temples as he took in Peter’s clumsy words. He knew that Peter had the tendency to word vomit when he was nervous but it didn’t make this any less embarrassing.

All three girls gave Peter a hard look before Alice spoke up, “is that seriously what you think girls talk about?”

“Jeez, Pete,” Sirius chuckled, trying to relieve some of the tension as they all found an empty compartment.

For the first couple of hours the compartment was impossibly noisy as the friends played Exploding Snap. Y/N’s fingers brushed against Remus’ as they both reached for a card at the same time. At her touch, goose bumps erupted on Remus’ arms, when Y/N smiled at him gently he had to wonder if she felt it too.

Soon enough, the game grew boring and the compartment grew quiet as the train started to travel through wilder parts of the country. Sirius, James and Peter were concocting a new prank while Lily and Alice were talking about their next Hogsmeade trip and Frank was snoring loudly in the corner. Y/N seemed to be engrossed in her book and Remus took this time to watch her, he watched the shadows that her thick eyelashes made on her cheeks and he watched the way her lips moved silently as she read the words on the page.

Almost as if she could feel Remus’ eyes on her, she glanced up to meet his eyes and raised her eyebrow with the ghost of a smirk on her face. Remus’ heart plummeted in his chest, feeling caught out, all he could do was manage a small smile. Y/N smiled back before going back to her book and Remus let out a slow breath. It was then that he made the decision to be brave and try to get to know her this year.

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@smiithys @hp-imagines-07 @pregnant-piggy @reylo-hope @unexpectedurl @siriusblackspam​

[everwitch-magiks]

of neighbourly attachments (part 4)

It takes Bitty seven attempts before he deems his maple-glazed apple pie passable.

It is, after all, an important pie. Partly, it is an apology pie, or at the very least an I’m so sorry I’m an awkward idiot pie. Yet it’s also a welcoming pie, or perhaps a thank you for welcoming me pie. Which, well.

Bitty isn’t entirely sure that Jack will be quite as welcoming, this time.

Ever since his realization at the garden party, Bitty has nervously tried to recall all his previous conversations with his neighbour Jack – also known as hockey superstar Jack Zimmermann, except Bitty unfortunately didn’t realize that before. On an even more unfortunate note, the memory of several of his interactions with Jack makes Bitty want to crawl into a deep hole and never come back out. If only he’d recognized those piercing blue eyes the first time he saw them, perhaps he wouldn’t have made such a complete fool of himself, repeatedly.

Bitty’s friends are never going to let him live this down.

Pie in hand, Bitty leaves his apartment and crosses the hallway. A moment passes. Then another.

Finally, his hands shaking, he manages to make himself ring the bell.

Steps are heard from behind the door, and then it’s quiet for a brief moment before Jack opens.

Bitty tries his best to smile politely.

“Hello there! I come bearing baked goods, as promised.”

“Eric,” Jack says, his tone warmer than Bitty had expected. He steps aside, quickly. Almost eagerly. “Come in.”

Bitty makes his way across the threshold somewhat hesitantly, toeing off his shoes when he sees that Jack is only wearing socks. This seems to be the right call, as Jack doesn’t comment on it – instead, he beckons for Bitty to follow him into another room.

Bitty does.

It’s the kitchen.

And although Bitty’s breath hitches for a moment – it’s a gorgeous kitchen, with countertops made of wood in a dark shade, black cupboards and silver details – he soon manages to compose himself. After all, Jack doesn’t have double ovens. And while those countertops look absolutely divine, they’re likely not maintenance free.

“What kind of pie is it?”

Jack has opened a cupboard and procured two cups. He’s holding what must be a package of coffee, and if Bitty didn’t know better, he’d say Jack looks sort of almost… Nervous?

“Do you want coffee? I also have tea, or, eh… Juice?”

“Coffee would be great, thank you.” Bitty carefully sets down his pie on the nearest countertop. “And the pie is a maple-glazed apple pie.”

“That sounds delicious,” Jack says, after a beat. “I guess this means that you know that I’m, uh. That I’m Canadian? And all that.”

“I most certainly do.” Bitty takes a deep breath, trying to gather his courage for what he’s about to say next. Because unfortunately, it really, truly needs to be said. “Jack, you should know that I had absolutely no idea that you’re… Well, that you’re you, until Eliana mentioned it at the party. I wasn’t trying to get close to you for any other reason than the fact that I really do think it’s lovely to be well acquainted with one’s neighbours, and if I’d known who I was talking to I’d never even have dreamed of bringing up hockey in the way that I did, and-”

“It’s okay,” Jack interrupts hurriedly. Somewhere in the middle of Bitty’s monologue, Jack’s ears have gone a little pink. “Really, it’s fine. I could have introduced myself properly to you, but I didn’t. And that’s on me.”

“All the same, I feel quite silly.” Bitty offers Jack a tentative smile. “I’m not sure if you’ll believe me when I say that you’re my favourite player of all time? But you really are. You’ve changed everything for those of us in the sport who… Well, who weren’t always accepted in the same way.”

“You… Oh.” Jack looks startled. And more importantly, his ears are no less pink, per say. “Were you out? When you played?”

“More or less.” Bitty grimaces. “I was in high school, there were some cute boys. And I wasn’t always open about it, but somehow a lot of people knew. It was really difficult for a while, especially with the team. Until you happened.”

Jack smiles wryly.

“I happened, eh?”

“That’s what it felt like. You were the top scorer in the league – and you had a boyfriend? Suddenly, everything was different.”

“I’m glad it made a difference, for you,” Jack says sincerely. “It’s just what we hoped would happen. That’s why it was worth everything that followed.”

“I haven’t actually told any of my old teammates that you’re my next door neighbour,” Bitty confides. “Or my mom, for that matter – goodness me, it might be better if I just never mention it to my folks. My mom might be on a plane across the country before I’d finished the sentence.”

“Your parents follow hockey?”

“From time to time, yes, but I have it on good authority that Suzanne Bittle never misses one of your games.” Bitty grins. “I imagine she’d be quite beside herself, if I ever told her about you.”

“Wait,” Jack says, staring at Bitty. “Wait. Bittle?”

“Yes?” Bitty says, confused.

“No,” Jack says.

“Actually, yes. Is it important?”

“You’re Eric Bittle.”

Bitty feels his cheeks go very, very pink.

“... Oh, right. That would be me, yes.”

Jack takes a step backwards, and then a step forwards, leaning slightly on the counter between them – almost as though Jack Zimmerman, superstar athlete, suddenly has trouble standing up without leaning on something for support.

“The Falconers watch your vlog before every single game.”

“What?”

Jack cracks a smile.

“We did once, at an away game against the Schooners? And we, uh, we won that game. So…”

“Oh my goodness.” Bitty feels quite breathless. “I’m your pre-game ritual?”

The tips of Jack’s ears suddenly look quite pink, once more.

“You’re, uh, definitely part of it? There’s also some stick-taping, and a nap if I can manage.”

“Sweet Mary,” Bitty murmurs. “This is a lot to take in.”

“Yeah. It is.”

For a moment, they’re both silent.

“Oh,” Jack says.

Suddenly, he’s starting to smile.

“I can bring the leftovers from this pie to our next game. The guys would flip, if I did.”

“Now wait just one minute!” Bitty immediately protests – Jack looks startled. “First of all, I wouldn’t assume there will be much left over, if I were you. Secondly, you must let me bake more than enough pie for your whole team! It simply wouldn’t be right, otherwise. I’ll need lots and lots of apples, of course – you wouldn’t happen to know if there’s usually fresh fruit at the local market?”

“There is,” Jack says. He’s started to smile again, except now his smile is truly warm. “They’re likely open, still.”

“Oh, then I must go as soon as I can,” Bitty says eagerly. “I’m sure we can have coffee some other time, Jack – I hope you’ll enjoy the pie.”

“We could go together, maybe? To the market.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, I’m sure I’ll find my way there. I’ve already been-”

“No, I mean – we could go together, together. If you want.”

Bitty falls silent.

The tips of Jacks ears are, once again, quite adorably pink. The NHL superstar is shuffling his feet and looks a bit lost, as though he suddenly has absolutely no clue what he should do with his hands, or why he even has any external limbs in the first place.

Bitty swallows, and tries desperately to find his voice again.

“That would be lovely,” he tells Jack breathlessly. “Maybe we could go out and get the apples, and then come back for that cup of coffee, and apple pie?”

The smile Jack offers in return is Bitty’s favorite one yet.

“I’d really like that, yes.”

“Good. Great.”

“Yeah.” Suddenly, Jack chuckles. “I think I might be about to lose a bet.”

“Pardon?”

“Just something Eliana said when she invited me to her family’s garden party.” Jack shakes his head. “Nevermind. I’ll just have to remember to send her flowers, one of these days.”

“Whatever you say.” Bitty lets himself take another breath, and then purposefully holds out a hand towards Jack. “Should we go, then?”

Jack nods, and takes Bitty’s hand in his, carefully lacing their fingers together.

As they set off together towards the local market, Bitty can’t help but think that moving to Providence wasn’t such a terrible mistake, after all.

[sillypandalover91]

Part 2: After the Auction

Alastor wasnt used to losing.

Not in the sense that he would flip over the board of monopoly if someone had stolen Boardwalk and Park Ave. from right under his nose. Though Husk swore that he would never again count cards when playing with Hazbins no matter how hilarious Alastor's face had been when he handed over the last of his colorful paper money to the feline when he landed on the overpriced blue territories.

No, Al wasn't a sore loser.

But this DrAngler44 was a bad winner if he ever saw one.

"Computer offend you again, babe?"

Alastor had gotten into a habit of playing with Angel's laptop while he went through his hour long nighttime ritual of thoroughly bathing himself, drying and dusting his fur and followed by his face routine and ending by brushing his teeth.

The laptop had been a gag gift from Vaggie, who had found it amusing to see the two old men fumble their way trying to figure out how to use it. After figuring out how to set it up, Angel was the first to master searching for things and using helltube. Alastor was more than happy to call it Angel's laptop if it meant he didnt have to continue embarrassing himself trying to figure the damn thing out.

But then Angel, during their nightly cuddles, mentioned finding a funny sounding video on Helltube that one of his fans uploaded recently. It was a haul of his merchandise, both recent and vintage.

And the vintage items certainly caught Alastor's attention. He scrolled down to the comments, smile widening as he figured out how to torment demons in a way that wouldn't upset Charlie. Angel's delighted face as they watched the doe demon unwrap a limited edition trilogy called "Lady Science".

"Holy shit," cried Angel, accidentally jostling Alastor in his excitement, "Sorry, babe."

Alastor rolled over on to his side but kept a hand buried in Angel's fluff, "It's no problem at all, cher. I take that you are fond of this particular installment of your rather impressive repertoire?"

Nodding, Angel turned down the volume but paid careful attention to the goodies that came in the set. "This one was so much fun to do. The director is an incubus, one of Lady Lilliths personal court now, which is a shame cause I loved working with him so much."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he gave me artistic control and even let me write this one! It did so well that we did two more. You should really listen to the commentary on that one, it's a hoot!"

"Do all of your picture shows have commentary?"

"Some of them, yeah. Well, the fun ones do." Angel glanced down at his thighs where the bruises were covered by his pajama pants, "Mostly the ones Val ain't got his nasty little talons in which, these days, they're few'n between."

After that conversation, Alastor borrowed a few films from Angel's library and, with Husk's reluctant help found the commentary.

"I'd ask why you're watching porn of your boyfriend banging other guys but quite frankly I dont give a fuck," grumbled Husk as he took a seat next to him.

Alastor paused the video and gave the feline a side glance, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"What? It's not like I'm going to beat off with you here and I know your virgin ass isnt going to get off to this either."

Eyes and smile sharpening, Alastor said, "My good fellow, the implication that you are going to, as you crassly put it beat off did not go unnoticed. I'm not going to let you watch my beau in the throes of ecstasy."

Husk snorted, "Why not, all of hell has."

"They're not my friends, Husker. Now, go away. I'd hate to cut our friendship short because you lust after my darling."

At this, Husk spat out his beer, "I- I don't, you know what, I'm not drunk enough to unpack that one. You enjoy," he squinted at the title, "Angel in The Baby Sitter."

"I intend to, old sport~"

One film had turned into two and three, five, until Alastor watched well over half of the videos in Angel's collection.

Who knew Angel was so beautiful when he was genuinely happy and having fun without the use of drugs. Ah, he did! But it was still refreshing to see him this happy when at work.

It was so endearing that he couldnt help but want to see more. Unfortunately there were only so many films left in Angel's library and the newer stuff had Valentino written all over it. So once again enlisting Husk's help, Alastor learned how to use the laptop to find where to buy Angel's earlier work.

"You know you can always ask him to get you more...fucking addict." The last part was muttered under his breath so Alastor ignored it.

After all it wasn't an addiction and it was, well, there were worse things to be addicted to than wanting to hear Angel's witty comments and joyous laughter.

"Or you can watch the actual porn with him and have him comment irl." Both men turned to see Cherrie grinning at them, "What? The princess said I could visit with my bestie so long it was in the parlour. Bet she didnt know there were a couple of old horny motherfuckers in here already."

Slamming the laptop shut, Alastor picked it up and made his way out, "What you do with your mother is your business. Now if you excuse me, I have things I need to win."

Angel found out because there was no way his sales suddenly boosting both on the Studio's website and on auction sites went unnoticed by Val who asked him to his office and nervously informed him that all future productions were going to be overseen by the incubus director Angel was so fond of.

That had been a few months ago and Alastor usually always had that air of self satisfaction that he usually attributed to an amazing release but Al wasn't one to do that and his self satisfaction came from securing items lesser demons wanted to get their repulsive hands on.

Those nights always resulted in heated make out sessions and some light petting on Alastor's part and ended in cuddled sleep.

Tonight, however, when Angel stepped out of the bathroom, he found Alastor glaring at the computer screen face void of a smile before carefully and slowly typing with his two index fingers.

Angel covered his mouth to hide his endeared smile, "Computer offend you again, babe?"

"Not the computer," muttered Alastor, his brow furrowed in concentration as he continued to type out his message in the chat of the auctioning website he frequented, "Some imbecile is flaunting the lot I wished to procure."

"Aw, I'm sorry, doll." Walking up behind his disgruntled beau, Angle draped his arms around Alastor's shoulders and rested his chin between his fluffy ears, giggling as they twitched in response, "You know I can just go through the Studion Vault and steal ya whatever you want. Not like Val actually keeps track of my older work anyway."

Alastor stopped typing and glanced up at Angel, "You mean you can find me this beautiful photograph of yourself? And the corresponding body pillow?" He pointed at the images DrAngler44 uploaded, "I loathe the idea of this creature having these photos of you but I admit that it is wholly because I had just the spot for them in my office at the radio tower."

When Angel didn't respond, Alastor frowned and spun around on his chair to tug Angel onto his lap, "Mon ange?"

"I haven't seen these in years," replied Angel, still staring at pictures. "Hells, this was the very first time I ever let my stupid feet be photographed. I had to beg Val to destroy most the of the copies and cut the photo off at the feet. You know there are only like 3 of these, right?" Ignoring the sudden burst of static, he counted off who had the other two copies, Vox has one cause, of course he had to have my feet in his possession and Lucifer has the other one cause Lilith thought I looked cute."

The static grew worse behind him and, now that he thought about it, maybe he shouldn't have brought Vox up. Angel felt Alastor tightened his hold on him, "You ok, baby?"

"Can you help me write my message," gritted out Alastor through his smiling teeth. Angel typed it out much quicker and sent it with Alastor's approval.

Alastor got up and carried his beau to bed where he tucked Angel in much to the spider's protest, "What about you?"

"Oh, I'll be back soon, cher. Vox has something I want."

[heydisneyhiremeplease]

“You Really Can Sing!”

Word Count: 2,627

Warnings: None

Timeline: Takes place after Age of Ultron.

Imagine Key:

“y/f/c” = your favorite color

You checked your speed as you drove through the small local town, not wanting to get a ticket in Tony Stark’s car.  Since you didn’t own a car yourself, you talked Tony into letting you borrow his to go out and get groceries for everyone periodically.  He had agreed pretty easily, knowing how cautious you generally were, but had still given you one of his trademark “don’t break my toy” looks.  You were surprised he didn’t have you sign a formal written agreement.  You followed a pretty crazy list of everyone’s orders at the store, which included Poptarts for the Tower’s resident Asgardian.  You also bought vegetables and fruit, thinking maybe you could somehow convince some of the others to eat them.  Most of them wouldn’t be a problem, certainly not Steve, but with Tony and Thor you’d either have to force-feed them the veggies or sneak the healthy food into a dessert.

On your way back, you began singing along to the radio as the station played a current hit.  It was your favorite song at the moment, and since no one was around you sang as loudly as you wanted.  Your phone went off while you were stopped at a red light, and you reached over into the passenger seat to silence the ringing.  It was Tony, probably just curious about your ETA.  You were almost home, so you didn’t worry about picking up.

In truth, you loved singing and listening to music, but with the Facility so crowded with people who would probably just laugh at you for your song choices, you never did.  You felt free, and as you pulled into the Avenger Facility’s massive garage, you were sad that it had to end so soon.  Turning the radio back down, you shut off the car and carried the groceries inside.  As you unpacked the food and put it away, you were startled by sudden loud clapping coming from behind you.  You jumped a foot in the air and spun around to see the whole team applauding you.  You put a hand over your racing heart and tried to catch your breath, saying, “All I did was pick up some groceries, guys.  Didn’t even spend my own money, Tony paid for everything.”

“That is not what we are clapping for.” Thor clarified.  “You are a wonderful songstress, Lady (Y/N)!”  Your face immediately burned as red as the apples you’d just purchased.  How did they know you liked to sing?  You hadn’t so much as hummed quietly to yourself since you joined the team.  Guessing your confusion, Tony stepped forward.  “I didn’t spend as much as I did on that car for you not to connect your phone to it via Bluetooth.” he said in his usual snarky voice.  The puzzle pieces clicked into place in your mind, the great mystery suddenly solved.  You had never bothered to sync your phone to Tony’s car because you only ever took it out for trips to the store.  When he called you, you must have accidentally accepted the call instead of declining it.  You didn’t notice because the radio continued playing.  If your phone had been connected, the music would have shut off while you took the call.  The next part you assumed: Tony didn’t hang up when he realized you weren’t aware he was talking to you, but instead took his phone to show the others.

You dropped your head into your hands, wanting to hide somehow or disappear altogether.  “Oh no,” you whispered.  They knew.  They all knew.  Now they would tease you relentlessly for it.  “Why are you so embarrassed?” you heard Wanda question, walking over and lightly tugging your hands away from your face to make you look up.  “You’re a beautiful singer.  You should let me play music for you to sing to.”  You knew she referenced her guitar, for which she had little use other than to strum quietly every now and again to check if the strings were in tune.  “Oh, that would be lovely!” Vision said, in his gentle yet sincere voice.  You knew the comment was mainly for Wanda, whose knowledge of music he found fascinating.

“Okay,” you said nervously.  Maybe you’d do it, maybe not, but in that moment all you wanted was for the conversation to end so you could head back to your room and hide.  They took it as a sincere agreement, a promise to entertain them later, and clapped once more.  You were very upset by that point, and nodded uncomfortably before turning around to finish putting the cold items in the fridge.  You would get out of it somehow.  But to your chagrin, a couple hours later, Wanda knocked on your bedroom door to ask if you wanted to run through the song they’d caught you singing earlier before performing it.  She had learned how to play it and was excited to show everyone.  “Umm…” you stalled.  Wanda could read minds, why had she not seen that you were lying before?  “I know you’re nervous and that it bothers you that we know, but we enjoy your singing so much.  We honestly want to hear it.” she promised, coming over to sit on your bed with you and wrap an arm around your shoulder.  “I don’t think I can do it.” you confided, wide-eyed fear and panic present on your face.

“It is up to you in the end, (Y/N), but I would not lie to you.  And Vision would not either.  He still isn’t sure what the point of lying is.” Wanda giggled.  You were all still working on teaching Vision about living among humanity.  “Wanda,” you started, “Vision just wants to hear you play.  He likes you.  He doesn’t care what I do.”  Wanda rolled her eyes.  You had been persistently telling her about Vision’s crush, but she liked to laugh it off.  You knew that was because, deep down, she was falling for him and was too scared to become fully attached to someone she might lose.  “Well, I would like to hear you again.  Please, just run through it with me once and we can discuss the others another day.  I spent time learning this song for you, after all.” Wanda reasoned.  You knew she was right, so you sat still as she rolled through the song’s introductory chords before coming in on the first verse.  You finished the song a couple minutes later, and felt happy like you had accomplished something big.  “See?  That was not so bad!” Wanda exclaimed, nudging you in the shoulder.  You rolled your eyes, blushing.  “Maybe you will have some more confidence now.” she commented.  You doubted it, but didn’t fight her.

You both decided it was a good time to venture out to the kitchen to grab a couple of the apples you had bought, and when you opened your door, you saw the whole team standing outside of it.  The closest members nearly fell over on you as their support was pulled away.  Your joyousness faded to pure horror.  “How long have you guys been here?” you asked.  You knew the answer.  “Oh, you know, maybe three or four minutes.” Tony said.  You pushed past them, not wanting a repeat of the scene in the kitchen from a couple hours prior.  As you washed an apple, you felt tears prick at your eyes.  You felt betrayed, especially since Wanda had probably been able to tell that they were there.  Maybe she had even planned it.  “(Y/N), please don’t be mad at us.” Nat said softly from behind you.  “Too late for that.” you answered, a certain dejectedness cutting in your voice.  Nat sighed.  “Well, it was pretty.  You really are a good singer.”  You heard her retreating footsteps, and relaxed just a little.  You didn‘t want any of them coming up to you.  However, in one way or another, each member of the team offered you encouragement or an apology one by one over the course of the evening.

First, you returned to your room to find a note taped to your door in Bruce’s handwriting: “I’m sorry we snuck up on you.  I know I hate it when people do that to me.  At least you turn red and not green.”  As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but smile just a little at Bruce’s joke.  Next, Steve stopped you in the hall before dinner, and put a hand on your back as he walked with you down the hall.  “Sometimes people can be bullies.  Even the ones you least expect.  I’m sorry, (Y/N).”  You nodded in appreciation of his complete sincerity, but also in annoyance.  You just wanted the whole thing to go away, like it never happened.  But that would have been too easy, so the apologies and compliments continued until only Thor and Tony were left.

Thor caught you in the living room, where you were sitting on the couch checking your phone.  “Good evening, Lady (Y/N).” he started.  He was so amicable sometimes, with that twinkle in his eye, that it made you want to vomit.  You supposed that it came from being raised as a prince and having to impress and placate people all the time.  Not that Thor was always princely; he could certainly be barbaric as well.  But right at that moment, he wanted to get back on your good side, and he was turning on the charm.  “Hello, Thor.” you answered him, polite in word only.  Your tone was poisonous.  “I come bearing a peace offering, in hopes that you will grant me your forgiveness for my regrettable past behaviors.” he orated.  At this, you looked up, curious as to what he might have brought you.  It was a large (y/f/c) diamond.  Your eyes widened.  “Thor…is that…a real diamond?” you asked, knowing that anything was possible when it came to Thor’s shenanigans.  He seemed terribly confused.  “Well of course!  Are there fake diamonds on Midgard?”

You were stunned into silence for a moment.  Then, “Thor, where did you get that?”  He answered confidently and matter-of-factly.  “I returned to Asgard and retrieved it from Odin’s vault.  He will not miss it, there must be a thousand there exactly like it.”  He paused for a moment.  “Would you like more than one?  I might be able to slip in and out a second time to procure you another.  Or a dozen more!  Whatever you like.”  He smiled his princely smile, and you sat there with your eyebrows creased together.  That was the thing about Thor: his intentions were always good, but his actions were always over-the-top.

Because you knew he was completely serious, you answered, “No, no, just the one is more than enough.”  You stopped then, before finally realizing he expected you to confirm your forgiveness of his crime.  “I forgive you now.” you added.  If it was possible, his smile grew.  “Oh, that is most wonderful news, my friend.  I could not have lived another moment knowing I had offended you.  Shall I leave your gift in your quarters?  I fear it will be too heavy for your mortal hands to carry.” he said.  “Yes, that would be great.  Thank you, Thor.” you answered, and watched him finally walk out of the room, seemingly with a new spring in his step.  You rolled your eyes and laid an arm over your forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

You were getting a glass of water before going to shower when Tony crept up on you.  He scared you, and you had a brief coughing fit as some water went down the wrong way.  “Sorry about that.  Well, anyway, it’s too bad about the whole trying-to-get-you-to-sing-for-us thing.  I mean, most people would want that, usually the really bad singers, but hey, we’re all weird here.  Are we good?” he finished, holding his hand out for you to shake.  You looked at it, then up at him in minor disbelief.  It wasn’t a real apology.  You shook your head and turned around.  As usual, Tony didn’t get it.  “Hey, what’s wrong?” he called after you.  You debated whether or not to actually tell him.  When you heard his footsteps following you, you decided you’d had enough of being chased down for one day, and you exploded.  “What’s wrong?” you imitated.  “It was an accident that I answered your call in the car, Tony!  And when you realized it was, you didn’t just hang up like a polite person, you took the phone around and showed everyone.  I didn’t give you permission to do that!  I never sing here, why did you think that I would be fine with this?”  You had tears in your eyes, and you knew all the hurt that had been building up inside of you since the incident was written on your face.

Tony looked completely shocked.  “I…I…” was all he got out.  You locked eyes with him, allowing him to see your shame and embarrassment, which he had caused.  Suddenly, he spoke: “I’m sorry, (Y/N).  I really didn’t think it would be a big deal.  You’re a great singer, I knew everyone would be proud of you and want to hear it, I just went with my first thought.  I should’ve known.  I’m sorry.”  You were taken aback.  A real apology, from Tony Stark.  Maybe it was the surprise, maybe it was the fact that he meant it, but your response was immediate forgiveness.  “Okay.  Thank you.” you said.  “Really?  J-Just like that?” Tony asked.  Now he was the one who was surprised. “Yeah.  You apologized, so has everyone else more or less.  I’m fine.  What happened, happened.  And the more I think about it, some of it’s my fault.  I should’ve been paying a lot more attention to what was going on.  I might’ve noticed your voice coming from my phone if the radio wasn’t so loud.  So, I’m kind of sorry, too.”

Out of nowhere, Wanda appeared and wrapped you in a hug, followed by the rest of the team.  There was a great chorus of “I’m sorry!” and “You really can sing!” before you were finally released from the center of the pile.  “So, will you sing for us now?” Wanda asked, just as hopeful as before.  She was holding her guitar by its neck, and you wondered how it had avoided being crushed in the hug.  The rest of the team had puppy dog eyes, and the excitement on Tony’s face was what led you to finally concede. “Okay!  But just this once.” you said, equal parts exasperation and joy.  Yes, you would sing for them.  If it would finally get them off your back, you would sing for them.

But it wasn’t just once.  It was many times, because after that night, when you denied them a second song, the team got crafty.  They started playing music in the Facility all the time, knowing that if they left it going you would begin to absentmindedly sing along.  They let you pick your favorite Disney movie on movie night, which they had previously always vetoed, hoping you would join in with the musical numbers.  Tony bought you tickets to a concert by your favorite artist, figuring that the songs would be stuck in your head for a couple days and you’d sing them without thinking.  Wanda would strum your favorite songs on the guitar, and Nat would gently hum them, betting that once a tune was started you would finish it.  In these ways, they listened to you sing all the time.  It took you a month to figure out what they were doing, but once you did, you were never more grateful for the day that Tony Stark betrayed your biggest secret.

Note: This one has existed for a pretty good while, but I felt like it wasn’t ready to go yet.  Went over it again today and after some changes, I think it’s halfway decent.  Hope you thought it was cute.

Masterlist!

[i-heart-danchou]

Divine

So this is for the extremely lovely @lostcauses-noregrets, who asked for a fic that was post ACWNR/pre canon, and also one which focused on the Ackerbond.  I never really thought about what the Ackerbond would feel like before, but I put myself in Levi’s shoes and imagined Erwin.  I think the Ackerbond is a feeling in one’s chest when they’re with their bonded.  A feeling bordering on painful, like love and adoration and hope all blended together.  A feeling of completeness, protectiveness, an instinctive drive to make that person happy.  Not a compulsion, but a gentle, good feeling.  I hope it comes across in this fic! ____________________ In a moment of clarity like he had never experienced before, Levi knew with total certainty that he wanted to stand beside Erwin Smith for the rest of his life.  The sun sparkling behind Erwin’s stupid gorgeous hair, his eyes bright and full of purpose, his hand still bleeding as he reached out towards Levi… Fuck.  Something changed in him that day, and he wasn’t quite sure he knew how to explain it.  Erwin’s voice had cracked something open in his heart, and he felt different now than he ever had before.  Lighter, maybe.  More certain. Levi had known a lot of shitty men in his life, and he certainly didn’t trust easily.  It wasn’t that he trusted Erwin yet either, exactly… that would take time.  It was more that he got a good feeling from him, was intrigued and enthralled by him, and just… wanted to be with him.  He remained largely silent on the muddy ride back to civilization.  He kept his eyes on Erwin’s back, watching the wings of freedom billow out around his broad shoulders.  His gaze kept drifting to the man’s right hand, a twitch of remorse curling at his heart as he saw the steady trickle of blood that was still lazing down his wrist.  In the next few days and weeks he found himself following Erwin probably more than he intended to.  Shadis wasn’t impressed, and the vast majority of the SC still didn’t trust him one little bit. Levi didn’t blame them, but he found it interesting that Erwin didn’t seem to mind.  Hell, it was almost like he’d been expecting the murder attempt.  

**

It was a rainy night; the weather had been far too miserable to allow anything productive to happen outdoors, and Erwin was busy in his office compiling the data from the last few expeditions.   Levi was making himself busy cleaning Erwin’s windows, peering at the man from the corner of his eye and trying to figure him out.

Erwin wasn’t like other men.  Erwin didn’t try to control him, didn’t question or berate him, didn’t try to suck up to him even.  Erwin just was.  He carried himself with beautiful poise and posture which Levi found enticing— he was charismatic and intelligent, he was so stupid attractive that it made Levi want to throw up.  It had mystified Levi, actually, that Erwin hadn’t wanted to talk about what had transpired in the mud on their first mission.  Not wanted to parse Levi’s feelings at losing his friends, not wanted to talk about the attempt on his life.  

“Erwin.”  Levi eventually broke the silence, and it continued to please him that the squad leader never looked angry or annoyed when he spoke.  “You know none of the other SC members want me anywhere near you?  I tried to kill you, Erwin.  Who’s to say I won’t do it again?”

Erwin looked at Levi and a small smile played on his lips.  “I don’t think you will.”  He put his paper down and seemed to consider Levi for a moment.  The man looked positively enthralled, and it made Levi’s heart speed up.  Fuck, this was pathetic— he wasn’t a damn kid anymore, he wasn’t supposed to get fucking infatuated but…

“I’ve been thinking, Levi.”  Erwin said, standing up to make them both a bit of tea.  “I’ve had a few reports of you getting into disagreements with some of the other cadets.”

Levi bristled.  “They’re all fucking disgusting.”  They didn’t clean up after themselves, they didn’t treat him with any damn respect he—

“It’s alright.”  Erwin said pleasantly, maybe he could see the storm brewing in Levi’s eyes.  “I prefer to be alone as well.  You’re welcome to use my office if you wish.  The couch is comfortable, it has a private lavatory, I’m not here all the time.”  

Levi looked incredulous.  “Why?”

“Because I value you.  Because I believe that you offer something irreplaceable to humanity’s fight.  Because I’m intrigued by you, and because I want you to be comfortable and well rested.”

Levi narrowed his eyes.  “People will talk.”

Erwin chuckled.  “Let them talk.”  He made his way to his closet and pulled out a blanket and some pillows.  “They’re wrong about us, and they’re wrong about you.  You and I are going to alter the future of humanity, Levi.  Give it time, they’ll see.”  Erwin’s eyes were sparkling, and Levi’s heart was thumping away in his chest with an excitement that was bordering on unpleasant.  

Fuck, what a man.

**

It took another two expeditions before Erwin was proven right.  Levi was an exceptional soldier; his skills fighting titans were second to none, and the majority of the SC was delighted to have him at their side.  He was strong and capable, he got things done, he saved lives.   Levi was still abrasive, disobedient, and difficult, but he commanded respect wherever he went.  

Shadis however, still struggled to accept him.  At the best of times, Keith was an unsteady hand at the helm of the SC, and it didn’t help that even now Erwin was more popular and respected amongst his recruits.  Having fucking underground Levi come out of nowhere, not listen to anyone but fucking Smith— it was infuriating, and it showed.  

Levi didn’t obey Shadis, he didn’t respond well to shouting and commands.  He listened to Erwin of course, because Erwin was smart and thoughtful, because Erwin didn’t order him around, because Erwin respected him and treated him like an equal.  

Levi had never known a leader like Erwin before, and it further cemented his loyalty and admiration.  

Keith probably worried about how it would look to the other cadets if an underground upstart didn’t obey him, favoring (like most of the cadets did) Erwin Smith and his radical ideas.  So he drew up the plans for the next mission, and intentionally kept Levi and Erwin apart.  They brought out the best in each other, they trusted each other implicitly, which wasn’t really what Shadis wanted to deal with.  

The expedition was a disaster, and Levi couldn’t even look at Shadis as they slouched back to Wall Maria.  His eyes stayed with Erwin, who was pale and gritting his teeth.  There was dried blood caked around his eye, and he was keeping his left arm close to his chest.  

Something was up, Erwin was tense in his shoulders, he didn’t look right.  Levi followed Erwin up to his office and glared at him, silver eyes sparkling with anger.  “You’re hurt.”  He observed.  “How bad is it?”

Erwin gingerly removed his jacket, and Levi’s eyes widened at how swollen and painful his wrist looked as it poked out of his shirt.  

“Take it off.”  Levi ordered.  “Let me see.”  

Erwin smiled despite himself, stripping down to his undershirt for Levi without protest.  He’d sprained his wrist badly, but fortunately it didn’t appear broken.  He didn’t complain when Levi roughly grabbed his arm to examine it, nor when Levi started cleaning out his forehead wound with some extremely stingy and unpleasant liquid procured from a first aid kit.  

“How did this happen?”  Levi grumbled, focusing on the task of cleaning the wound.  He took the matter very seriously; in the underground people died from injuries like this.  

“Jacobs had been grabbed by a titan, I jumped in as soon as I could.  The thing was abnormal, just flicked its arm out at me and sent me to the ground.  I’m lucky it wasn’t worse, honestly.”

Levi narrowed his eyes.  “The whole thing was a shitshow.  This never would have happened if you’d been leading us.”  He looked at Erwin, and his heart did that weird little flippy thing that he hated.  His eyes were so fucking gorgeous, it was probably illegal.  “You should be commander.  Shadis doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Erwin smiled then, and Levi wondered if they’d fuck.  He’d had guys staring at him like Erwin did his whole life, and usually it culminated in him getting pinned to a wall, him getting kissed, and him slamming his knee up into a set of balls until the hands let go.  But Erwin never touched Levi without his permission… it was baffling.  The man made no sense.  

“Keith tries his best.”  Erwin reasoned, and Levi let his eyes slide along the line of his perfect jaw.  “He’s assured me he’s put me forward as a candidate for future commander, if and when the time comes.  I’ll just have to be patient.”

**

The attack on Shingashina is unexpected and unprecedented.  The worst attack in human history, and the SC was nowhere to be found.  Shadis’ resignation was abrupt and unsurprising, and Erwin Smith was proudly named the thirteenth commander of the Survey Corps.

There was hardly room for celebration… humanity had lost a third of its resources in one day, it was on the brink of starvation, drastic measures would need to be taken and it would all fall on Erwin’s shoulders.   Levi’s heart swelled with pride as Zachley placed the green bolo tie around Erwin’s neck, and nodded his approval as the newest commander marched proudly towards a new future.

He was beautiful, he was charismatic, he inspired confidence wherever he went.  This was a man who could lead humanity to victory, this was a man who could change the world.  Yet Levi could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the slight hesitation in his face.  He followed Erwin to his new office, ignoring the way people watched him linger in Erwin’s shadow.  

Levi wasn’t good at things like this.  He closed the door behind himself and admired the way Erwin stood so tall and so proud with the weight of humanity on his shoulders.  “Looks good.”  Levi said plainly, gesturing to the tie.  “I trust you.”  He added.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever said that to another human being, and he hoped the gravity of his statement wasn’t lost on the commander.

Erwin’s eyes were warm, his smile deep and genuine.  “Thank you, Levi.  That means a lot.”  

Oh, fuck it.  Levi took Erwin’s hand and brought it to his lips, delicately kissing the thick red scar which gnarled the middle of his palm.  He darted his eyes up, and Erwin looked genuinely astonished, but pleased.  

“Levi..”  Erwin started, but Levi wasn’t interested in talking.  He brought their lips together and silenced the commander.  

Levi had assumed their first fuck would be all teeth and tearing at clothes, frenzy and desperation and undignified grunting but… it wasn’t.  It was reverence, it was affection, it was bordering on the divine.   He took his time with Erwin, stripped him down and let his eyes wander.  His heart ached, and he reveled in the feeling.  

This was the man he would follow for the rest of his life.  The man he would kill and die for, the man who would save humanity and all that was good in the world.  He wanted to be at his side, he wanted to aid him, to enable him, to move mountains and see that gorgeous smile again.  

Erwin Smith was everything.  And this was only the beginning.  

[puppyluver256]

OKAY SO NOW I HAVE SOME DESIGN CONCEPTS FOR MY SFMxSPLATOON AU HERE YOU GO and now I’m gonna try to run down what this is all about outside of the braindump post that I kept adding onto.

Splat For Me - A Summary

The basic gist is that Habit owns a flower shop in Inkopolis and Kamal is his partner of both the business and romance types. Habit’s a shark, specifically a porbeagle (I’m gonna refer to him as a “Sharkling” due to working on similar logic to Inklings and Octolings), and Kamal’s an octo. The flower shop would have an in-game function kinda like a combination of the Crust Bucket (in that they have floral accessories that players could add to their hat/clothing for exp boosts, cash boosts, and temporary ability add-ons) and Salmon Run (in that you’d get another play mode where you fight weird enemies, more details below).

Sharkling Habit

I had a hard time makin him not look like Garbage so my efforts should be appreciated at some level. I know the only precedent for sharks in the Splatoon universe is Fuka Bottom of the Bottom Feeders (one of the in-universe music groups that AREN’T Squid Sisters or Off the Hook, look ‘em up), but they’ve got that “I’ve turned this shark vertically and am now looking at their mouth and underbelly” look to ‘em that I most definitely did not want, but I managed to make something more in my vision yaaaaay

Habit managed to get away from his nasty abusive parents before becoming a dentist in this AU (besides, being a dentist isn’t THAT lucrative when the dominant species doesn’t even have bones let alone proper teeth), so he’s not Dr. Habit here, he’s just Boris the flower shark. He’s gotten a lot of attention for his little flower shop, partly because the kids participating in turf war are getting some really good use out of the shop’s floral accessories and partly because they like coming around just to see Habit. S’not every day that you get to hang around vertebrates in this society, and they think his teeth are cool. Yup, that’s why I made him a shark, to make the too-many-teeth face not so unnatural. And being a shark, sometimes those extra teeth push themselves forward and knock out the old ones, which if still in decent condition never go to waste. The really nice-looking ones get turned into authentic shark tooth necklaces (after they’ve gone through a good wash, of course, don’t wanna give the customers his mouth germs), the others that don’t have any significant wear and tear get either ground into bone meal for his flowers or occasionally just shoved whole into the soil, with the erythronium responding to these treatments the best.

While there is some flower growth going on in the shop itself, most of the work there is keeping them healthy for sale and the major growth time for the flowers are off-site in various greenhouses that he refers to as Habitats. (before he had these set up, he was caught several times trying to grow flowers in the Kelp Dome and subsequently removed, took five times for him to realize that maybe he shouldn’t be doing that and also maybe don’t try to swipe a nearly-ripe artichoke on your way out gdi) They’re a bit more than just a normal greenhouse, actually; they’re self-contained areas that seem to be made with materials and techniques that are incredibly similar to Octarian technology. How’d he get ahold of that stuff? No one knows, not even Kamal, and he’s the most likely source of such tech who’d be close to him. One thing that is for certain is that he’s procured something that lets non-inking beings use ink-based weapons, and it’s been incredibly helpful given certain recent developments...

Turns out that his Habitats are starting to come under fire from some very tricky troublemakers. Weird little crafts somehow breaking in from the skies, piloted by...snails? Are they really snails? They certainly don’t look like the Super Sea Snails that everyone’s used to, they look more like the typical image of a UFO piloted by snail-like creatures (snailiens?), but they’re here and they’re hungry and they’ve got a taste for flowers. And Habit’s friggin’ pissed. That’s where the player would come in if this were a real game element: once you’d get to a certain freshness level, you’d make your way to the flower shop only to see Kamal manning the counter instead of Habit, and he’d suggest you go help Habit deal with his pest problem because you “look like you’re pretty capable with slingin’ ink”. After a tutorial where you learn how to deal with the big boy snailiens, you could join up with some other players and take ‘em on. You would, of course, be rewarded handsomely for your help.

Funny little image I also had in mind: he’s been known to get stuck in shark form at inopportune moments, and when this happens he’ll need someone to crack his back to make it easier to shift back into humanoid form. No one knows how to handle this unless they’ve done it at least once because no one else around him has booooones XD (also his humanoid form is prolly gonna still have green skin despite no part of the porbeagle being green because I don’t currently feel comfortable assigning natural skintones to any of the SFM characters who are canonically green/blue/purple/etc, unless their canon design makes it Very Obvious what natural skintone would be most likely, ie. Tiff)

Octoling Kamal

Kamal was significantly easier to work with due to my experience with drawing Octolings already hahaha

Kamal’s the assistant manager at Habit’s flower shop, which is basically a fancy way of saying he’s the only other person there who could legally be a full-time employee. He handles most of the logistics of keeping the shop stable, because as much passion the boss has for their work, passion alone can’t pay the bills and he’s often a tad too distracted to deal with the numbers and paperwork. They work pretty well together, even if they do both have a tendency to goof off on the job.

I seriously doubt that Marina and the various incarnations of Agent 8 were the only Octolings to migrate topside after the events of the first game, so Kamal was probably one of several who found a way out. I haven’t hammered this part out yet entirely, but I’m pretty sure that he would’ve been on staff for a weapons/tech r-n-d group before leaving at his first opportunity and grabbing some random gadget in the process. He hated the place he ended up emerging in because it was near a small town where everyone was so spread out and him being used to (not necessarily comfortable with, just used to) constant sounds at all hours made the silence of just the first night unbearable. So he tried to hop a train to any urban area that he came across but in his haste to get topside he forgot to bring any moneeeyyy, not even Octarian money just no money at all, left it all behind like a goof. He ends up freaking out to himself because even though he’s got a valuable Thing on him it’s not like the train people are gonna recognize it as anything but junk or even be able/willing to accept it as replacement for standard currency, then out of nowhere this huge-ass shark man just shows up and buys a ticket to Inkopolis for him? Okay, sure, he’ll take what he can get, even if the guy was all “u owe me a ‘favor’ ;-)” once they were on their way. And of course that’s how he met his future boss and bf. ;P

At some point Kamal gets a little jealous of all the kids having fun with the turf war stuff and kinda wishes he could try it out at least once, but of course that’s kid stuff and he’s got Adult Responsibilities to worry about... Oh wait, there’s actually an adults’ league? And Habit’s insisting on giving him time off to go try it and see how it is? 

(also those flower seed bags say “bloomy” in one of the Inkling alphabets, and yes it WAS a “woomy” joke on my part)

Other details (to be expanded upon)

Putunia and Flower Kid are often seen at the flower shop, even though I don’t have any designs for them yet). Putunia is there so often because she’s Habit and Kamal’s adopted kid, and while she REALLY wants to get into turf war she’s far too young. (if you’ve ever seen the Inkling growth chart, she’s at stage 3 of growth) Flower Kid’s there because they are a part-time employee, often delivering products around town, but they spend enough time with their employers and Putunia that they might as well be their honorary child as well. They’re old enough to participate in turf war, they’re just not interested in doing so.

[dondake]

[dohifu] love at nth sight

rating: t summary: The power of suggestion compels you! Or at least, it compels Hifumi to reconsider Doppo. Ao3 Link

[=]

It was one of those nights where the champagne was flowing and a new woman cycled in like clockwork to replace one who finished her session - in other words, it was a busy night such that the manager did not mind if Doppo sat in Hifumi’s corner and drank sullenly. Most of his regulars were familiar with Doppo, who dropped by now and then when he wasn’t saddled with overtime, if not by sight but by reputation. The ever professional Hifumi would never speak at length about someone besides his dearest, sweetest customers, but most everyone had heard of his Roommate whom he’d mention at least once a night. His faithful regulars saw too that whenever Doppo was there, peering bleakly into his beer and offering weary responses to any question directed to him, Hifumi tended to perk up, smiled a little wider and gestured a little more enthusiastically. While the club’s manager making the rounds seldom made Hifumi change his behavior, he was noticeably chipper with his childhood friend around. It was speculated that this was why the manager tolerated Doppo’s presence in spite of his gloomy disposition. “Darlings!” Hifumi cried, clasping his hands together. He was addressing his rapt audience of three women and Doppo, staring on his third beer. “I hope you all are having fun! I am...and it would be a shame if you couldn’t share this happiness with me…!”

His antics made the women squeal, the loudest waving her wallet in the air to summon a waiter for more bubbly. Hifumi made a vapid toast after which they all tapped their flute glasses. Doppo was getting tipsy; Hifumi could tell because his shoulders were starting to slack, the tension leaving his naturally strung-up posture. His face was turning slightly pink. It did Hifumi’s heart good to see that his best friend was finally able to relax somewhat after a long day at work. He sat on the arm of the chair Doppo had taken ownership of, tapping Doppo’s knee affectionately to show that he was happy. Doppo responded in kind, sliding his hand up the small of Hifumi’s back and rubbing gently, soothingly. Hifumi was technically not allowed to chat with non-paying customers (Doppo’s beers were mysteriously scrubbed from the ledger, but Hifumi was one of the highest earning hosts so eyes could be turned away), but this was their way of communicating without Hifumi looking away from his girls.

It was because he was looking at them that he noticed the girls sitting closest to Doppo eyeing the way they were touching. He smiled at them, his most charming one, and the closest girl simpered and looked away; but her friend, bolder, matched his grin. “You guys are so close,” she gushed. “Honestly, it’s an inspiration! I can only hope to have friends for life.”

“Yeah, well! It’s hard to not be close when you’ve watched someone through thick and thin! Me, I’ve seen Doppo-chin through so much...like when he ran his first errand for his dad and when his voice changed and when he had his first wet dream and came to me all worried that something was wrong with him…!” Doppo groaned, the perfect straight man to Hifumi’s antics, and the women giggled at his expense. “But it’s okay! Because it’s hard being so handsome....he’s really good at washing my hair!”

Doppo groaned again. “You’re going to run my hands raw with two conditioners on top of your fancy shampoo...I don’t get paid enough for this...I ought to take care of my hands, my manager won’t take it as an excuse if I bleed all over my keyboard…” Still, his fingers rubbed over Hifumi’s spine, through his suit jacket, as if to ground him as he spiralled.

“If only I could find a man so dedicated to me!” one of the girls exclaimed. Before Hifumi could offer himself, she gushed on. “Hifumi-chan! What would you do if Doppo-kun liked you? Like...in that way!”

Doppo’s fingers skidded to a stop, pressed against Hifumi’s back. Likewise, Hifumi was struck dumb for a moment, though he figured it wasn’t a serious point of discussion by the way the girls laughed again, pushing each other by the sheer cheek of the suggestion. Doppo was his most cherished friend since they were both young. Certainly, their friendship waxed and waned over the years, not the lovely, stalwart example of loyalty and good will as the girls insisted, but Doppo - in love with him? The thought was absurd. “Oh! That would never happen...don’t you know how cliche that is? Childhood friends? This isn’t your afternoon soap, or a popular anime!”

“But isn’t that the reason why it would be such a good relationship? Since you two know each other’s faults and bad habits but you’ve gotten past it and stick with each other?” The girls began chatting amongst themselves on which permutation of themselves would be the ideal coupling, but the one closest to them turned to Doppo. “What do you think, Doppo-kun?”

“What do I think about what?”

“Hifumi-chan, obviously!”

Hifumi glanced over, also curious of the answer. Doppo had withdrawn his hand and was now wringing his hands, uncomfortable at being the subject of attention. He settled on rubbing his temples, frowning slightly. “Well...even in such a scenario, I don’t have time to date, much less take care of my own health. No one will want a man who gets stress migraines and sometimes has to be reminded to eat...no, I’m not a desirable bachelor at all. No one would even consider to ask me to be a candidate for their single daughters. Of course, this is completely expected, I’m just a lackluster employee.”

Hifumi laughed, suddenly resisting the urge to reach over and take Doppo’s hands away from his face before they rubbed a bruise. Normally, he’d talk Doppo down from the funk he was threatening to settle into, but somehow he felt too open, too observed. The girl pressed on. “Hypothetically, though...don’t you think Hifumi is a perfect man? Your soulmate?”

“Ooh, yes! Your soulmate!” The word in his mouth made Hifumi’s stomach flip. What a concept! Doppo, his spiritual other half? He had to shove him out of bed some mornings and put up with doing some things by himself on the weekends when Jakurai wasn’t available because Doppo was asleep. He had to take the phone sometimes when Doppo had dissolved into regular apologizing even to his parents because he hadn’t had time to visit. Doppo was hardly the prince in shining armor that Hifumi considered a soulmate to be, something grand and elevated. “Don’t you think I’m soulmate-worthy?”

“Of course you are,” Doppo said, in the same tone of voice a parent might use with their child upon asking if their dreams were possible. “I have no doubt you’ll make someone very happy.”

“That someone could be you,” Hifumi purred, transitioning smoothly back to host as he turned and clasped the woman’s hands. Properly distracted, she forgot about Doppo and accepted Hifumi’s offer for another drink. After four more long hours, the host club closed. Doppo had since gone home to turn in early and after a closing meeting to go over logistics, Hifumi headed home too.

Waiting for him, though cold, was a fast meal that Doppo had prepared before he went to bed. There was no note, no cutesy catchphrase that Hifumi liked to put into Doppo’s packed lunches; it was a simple affair, ready to be reheated. The apartment was deathly quiet, and Hifumi tiptoed around although he knew Doppo could be the heaviest sleeper. Doppo’s bedroom door was closed and there was no sliver of light underneath the door. Hifumi ate his food, exfoliated, and settled into his own bed. It was normal for roommates to look out for each other like that. Doppo cooking for him, on the rare occasions where Hifumi did not make meals for them both, was completely normal. It didn’t mean anything like Doppo was harboring intense romantic feelings for him. In fact, just because he packed Doppo’s lunches and mended his shirts and cleaned the house was nothing special either - his schedule just allowed for it. It would be flattering, obviously, to be liked, but that just wasn’t what it was. Wasn’t it?

Well - no matter. The customers at the club could say strange things sometimes. Hifumi never let it get to him, and this time would be no different.

A few days later, when Doppo stumbled through the door grumbling under his breath and following the sound of running bath water that Hifumi had set up for him, dropping his shoes and socks and coat and briefcase and disappearing into the bathroom, Hifumi put his shoes away, hung up his coat, and fished out his lunchbox to wash for the next day. The box was heavy in his hands, and when Hifumi opened it, the food he had packed the night before was still there. Doppo came out of the bathroom, hair damp and looking only mildly refreshed, to find Hifumi pouting at him over the kitchen table, arms crossed sullenly. “Care to explain?”

Doppo looked down at the still full bento. “Oh.”

“Just because you’re busy doesn’t mean that you can skip lunch. I thought we moved past this! If you’re hitting a busy patch, just tell me; I can make something easier to eat, like onigiri or sandwiches. When you don’t eat, it doesn’t hurt just you, but me, for having put the effort to make things I know you’ll like and will give you the energy to go through the day, and--”

Doppo held a hand up, bringing Hifumi’s monologue to a screeching stop. “No, I did eat today. I was just put on this big contract...working with the procurement department at a hospital that’s going to open on the other side of the district in a few months. They’re a completely new client so we’ve got to win them over...so I went out to lunch with them. Sorry. I should have told you. Even if my manager hadn’t dropped this on me out of the blue, I should have known...should have put one and one together about this new site...sorry, Hifumi. I wouldn’t just leave your food for no reason. I like your cooking.”

Hifumi opened his mouth and found that he suddenly had nothing to say. His face started to prickle and he could feel it turning red, like when a woman walked in before he had put his suit jacket on - but instead of terror, it was a similar feeling of having his feet swept out from underneath him. Doppo had complimented his cooking before; he had never reacted in such a physical way in the past. But before, maybe he hadn’t considered why Doppo would reiterate the sentiment; the Doctor had praised his boxed lunches on their fishing trips before, but he had really only mentioned it once and Hifumi knew his subsequent lunches were equally good. “You like it?” Hifumi found himself saying, his voice pitched unnaturally high. He had to say something - Doppo, who had been expecting more of a lecture, was starting to frown.

“Yeah...like you said, you know what I like and you can make the things I don’t like to eat tolerable. I’d probably be seeing Doc more often if you didn’t keep me on my diet.” If Doppo was concerned about Hifumi squirming and whimpering, he didn’t show it. “Sorry. Really. I didn’t know it was going to make you so upset.”

“That’s not what I’m upset about!” He wasn’t upset to begin with - but he wasn’t sure what he was, at the moment. He decided to change the subject. “Er...but handling a contract? I thought your manager kept saying that you...that he didn’t think...that he didn’t want you handling clients directly.”

Doppo sighed, hanging his head. “That’s what I thought too. But I guess everyone else is also juggling a ton of projects and I was what was left. I mean, serves me right. Bottom of the barrel, last one picked...I need to do my best so the client doesn’t realize this...that they were assigned the runt of the litter, the leftovers, the hand-me-downs…” Right then, Hifumi was there, patting Doppo’s wet hair and rubbing circles between his shoulders. Doppo was still grumbling, but he was now doing it leaning into the crook between Hifumi’s shoulder and neck and going slack. It was not the first time Hifumi felt Doppo’s body heat against him, but it sent another thrill up his spine. Doppo was something of a misanthrope, convinced that he contributed the bare minimum to society, so for him to be so accepting of Hifumi’s affection - surely he liked it? Perhaps even enjoyed it? Hifumi didn’t have many points of reference, so he wasn’t sure if this sort of dynamic was ordinary for old friends.

“Well...for now, let’s just eat dinner so you can go to sleep with a full stomach. Should we warm up your lunch? And then eat some of the side dishes I made along with it.”

Doppo gave a wane smile. “I’d like that,” he said, honestly, without a hint of deprecation. Hifumi stumbled over a chair to get to the microwave before Doppo could see how he was going all fluffy again.

But it was not the last time he suddenly got self conscious of his best friend, though it was so subtle each time that it hadn’t really hit him until he realized he’d gone from worrying about Doppo eating and taking a break to remember to work to live, not live to work - to fretting about whether Doppo had taken offense to an off-handed remark he’d said or whether his aftershave had always smelled so good. Doppo threatened not infrequently to find his own place and to stop being on speed dial whenever Hifumi was being particularly enthusiastic, but lately it troubled Hifumi to hear it. He knew Doppo would never make good on that promise, but the thought of living in the apartment alone without Doppo’s things and the smell of generic drugstore brand soap or the dish set that Doppo had bought in secret as a housewarming gift...well, it made his stomach tied up in knots. Hifumi decided to take a brisk walk to try and clear his mind.

But no matter what he tried to think about to take his mind off the recurring loop of Doppo, Doppo, Doppo, Hifumi was forced to consider that he ought to admit he had a problem. He didn’t think of himself as a simple, impressionable boy, and he was an adult for that matter so not malleable like he was in middle school. Still, the idea that his customer from weeks ago - he’d already lost count, he couldn’t even say a date if pressed - had fully taken root. It would be disingenuous to say he had never considered it; they’d certainly been together for so long it would be expected to be sick of each other. But the passing thoughts of Doppo’s rare smile being charming or the comfortable weight of their hands together whenever one of them was going through a mood were just that: passing thoughts. He’d never given them weight or power. There was just no need to. It was true, that saying that one who fancied you would make it known, and Doppo had never shown any intent of overture. Though, suppose that woman had been right, and he had just not interpreted the signs right, and he had willfully placed Doppo as a friend when he’d wanted to be something else--

“Hey! Don’t short circuit your tiny brain thinking too hard!” It was Ramuda. Hifumi could recognize that bright, bubblegum pink hair anywhere. He was approaching now, quickly, before Hifumi could react. There was a curious grin on his face.

“What are you doing in Shinjuku?” Hifumi asked.

“It’s none of your business what I get up to, is it?” Hifumi could almost hear the hearts and sparkles dripping from Ramuda’s inflections. Matenrou was not a group with the leisure time to enforce turf boundaries, but it was still unusual for a member of another division to be just around. “What are you thinking oh-so-hard about?” Ramuda pouted, as if he sympathized. “Your head was in the clouds! I didn’t even think you would hear me call out to you!”

“My head was not,” Hifumi protested.

“Mmm, well, no one could be surprised if it was. Not like there’s anything in there heavy enough to keep it on the ground!” Ramuda gave a zero calorie smile.

He was getting nowhere with Ramuda. Though childish, Hifumi took out his phone to tell on him. “Well, if you’re really up to nothing, it wouldn’t be a problem to tell Doc that you’re here, huh?”

“Ooh! You’re threatening me? Okay, go ahead. Call him!” Ramuda really was bad news. For Ramuda to go out of his way to visit meant that there was trouble brewing. Hifumi reached his other hand for his mic, but before he could even begin to prepare for a fight, his phone chirped. It was Doppo.

[Won’t be home for dinner, eating out with the client after work. Sorry. Will make it up to you with your favorite cherry tart from that one cafe.]

“Ughh, what’s wrong with you! You have such a gross look on your face.” For a second, Hifumi had completely forgotten Ramuda was there. Before he could stop him, Ramuda had sidled up to him and was reading the message on his phone. “Wha-a-t! Ew! There’s really got to be something wrong with you to fall for that gloomy, old guy!”

“Doppo’s not old! Or...well, his gloominess is because he cares too much sometimes!”

Ramuda looked at him like a piece of discarded gum on the bottom of his boot. “So you are in love with him. Here I was wondering what kind of interesting people Jakurai had decided to surround himself with now. So this is it. That makes me feel like chopped liver. Like, give me back my time when he was obsessed with me, am I right!”

“Love?” Hifumi sputtered. “I’m not...in love with Doppo-chin!”

“Uh-huh,” Ramuda said, sounding unconvinced. “But just a message from him made you look like one of the pretty big sisters who would do anything for me. Hmm. Sure. Well, I don’t care when you decide to figure that out, but if you’re going to be no fun, then I’ll just leave! I was just wondering what kind of pretty ladies were out here...but if they’re charmed by you I might as well go home!” Contrary to his declaration, Ramuda did not turn heel and return to where he came. Jakurai would surely scold him for letting a high profile public enemy off the hook, but there was nothing he could do against Ramuda once the hellion had decided on something. He tried again to draw Ramuda’s attention, to do battle -

“I’m not in love with him. He’s my best friend.”

Ramuda spared him a single, disbelieving look over his shoulder. “Okay then! Enjoy that cherry tart, cherry boy!”

He would, he decided, just to spite Ramuda. When Doppo finally came home, eyes half closed, Hifumi greeted him with a beaming smile, a thousand watts, and took the tart from his hands. Leaning forward, he smelled the buttery scent of the pastry and a whiff of flowery perfume. He put tea on while Doppo changed and he ignored the way his insides felt icy cold. As Doppo sat down to a slice of tart, already dressed in his ratty bedtime sweater so he could go to sleep after the snack, Hifumi carefully studied his face and his neck for telltale signs that he hadn’t been working after all.

“This project is going to kill me,” Doppo groaned.

“Oh? Why?”

“The client org is just full of upbeat, chipper people...I can’t handle the pressure of their smiles. Especially Yamamoto...always saying, ‘We have time, please work at your own pace and give it your all, Doppo-kun!’. Doesn’t she know that only makes me feel less like I can work at my own pace?”

“Ooh~? She’s calling you by your first name already?”

Doppo grumbled in response, a wordless affirmation, and when Hifumi did not immediately begin chirping off more questions about his day, he opened his eyes bleakly. Hifumi still had that unbreakable smile on his face. “What?”

“What, what?” Hifumi singsonged back.

“Hifumi…” Doppo put his fork down, resting against the extra cream he didn’t eat. He had talked lately about eating less sugar, worrying that it was ruining his aging metabolism. “You’re upset.”

“Me? No way! I’m not upset.” To prove it, Hifumi started eating his slice with gusto.

Doppo was always in some state of frown, but it seemed to deepen a little as he watched Hifumi. “Well, if you don’t want to talk about it...do you want to sleep in my bed? That always makes you feel better.” It’s skinship, Hifumi had said years back when they started living together and Doppo had practically screamed in the middle of the night when his roommate slid under the covers with him. It’s how friends become closer! The offer was on the table, accommodating and unaffected.

“No, no, no, no. I can feel better in my bed too! I’m just tired.” Doppo shrugged, as if to say, suit yourself.

Unlike Doppo, Jakurai was less deterred by Hifumi’s insistences. “I insist,” he said, with Hifumi in tow after the blonde offered to help him run errands on a day off. “You say you are fine, but you’ve been awfully clumsy as of late. Sometimes you are so distracted, it takes me some time to catch your attention. Is it another stalker? Please, Hifumi, you know you can tell me your troubles.”

“It’s nothing! Seriously! What would make you think little ol’ Hifumin is troubled?”

“If you are having an argument with Doppo, I encourage you to reconcile. You two have been friends for too long to not settle your issues between yourselves. When we were planning out our material for our next battle, I noticed that you were holding back on sharing your thoughts on Doppo’s suggestions when you normally are freely offering feedback to try and have him - what do you usually say - lighten up.”

“Ah~! Doctor, I can’t believe you’re watching me so much! But don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong with us at all~!”

“Hifumi, you must know that you aren’t convincing anyone with that smile of yours...ah, speak of the devil. There’s Doppo himself.” Jakurai gestured across the street. Doppo was sitting outside having lunch with a pretty woman wearing an equally professional ensemble of a delicate blouse and black pencil skirt. Even on a sunny day, Doppo had the ability to look impossibly frazzled, elbow deep in paperwork. The woman laughed, reaching over to brush his arm with her hand. “I must say, it’s always amazing to watch him conduct business. You would never think, with the way he talks after work, that he has it together to...ah, Hifumi, if you walk so fast, I can’t keep up.”

About a block of Jakurai walking faster than he’d liked, Hifumi turned around with all the indignation of a man scorned. “I’m in love with him!” he declared, his eyes swimming. The words free, the dam broke and Hifumi began utterly bawling in the middle of the street.

“Ah, there, there.” Jakurai pulled him in, his formidable doctor’s coat assuring alarmed strangers on the sidewalk with them that all was taken care of. He patted Hifumi’s back soothingly as Hifumi hiccuped into his chest. “I see. Why don’t we head back to my office and you can explain further.”

Hifumi woke, with the vague horror in his chest that he’d had a minor breakdown in front of Jakurai. How embarrassing, a man his age making a fuss in public. His eyes felt puffy and he felt a strange sense of tranquil calm. Jakurai had listened to him blubber and had no doubt let him wear himself out on the couch next to his desk. Had he even made any sense? Hifumi blinked, making out Jakurai sitting at his desk working quietly before Doppo swam into view.

“He’s awake, Doctor.”

Jakurai turned. “Ah, good morning again, Hifumi. You’ve been sleeping for an hour. I called Doppo to come escort you home; you were in no state for me to feel comfortable letting you go alone and I am simply unable to leave my post here.”

“Mm fine,” Hifumi mumbled, sitting up quickly. Jakurai firmly believed in letting sleeping dogs lie, but he couldn’t help wondering if he’d told Doppo the reason for Hifumi’s sudden outburst. “You have work...I can go home by myself…”

“I already told my manager that my roommate was sick and I had to make sure he was doing okay first,” Doppo said. “Do you want me to go back to the office and say I was lying? He’d have me skinned first. Let’s just go home; don’t bother the Doctor any more today. He’s got a ton of work, probably...just like me…”

Carefully avoiding both Jakurai and Doppo’s eyes, Hifumi went to gather his jacket, which Jakurai had kindly hung up after he’d sobbed to high heaven. “No, just go back. I’ll go...I’ve got a few errands still and…”

Doppo grabbed his wrist. “Don’t be difficult. Do you know how worried I was when the Doctor called me? I thought you’d been caught without your jacket and...I’m sorry, Doctor, we’re making a fuss still. I’m sorry. I’ll bring him home, don’t worry.”

“No! I don’t want to go with you!” He knew he was whining; he could feel his bottom lip trembling. Doppo signed and pulled him along. They took the longer way to the apartment so Doppo could drop something work-related off in the mailbox, and when they stepped over the threshold, Hifumi had gathered quite a bit of emotional energy again.

“Let’s get you comfortable,” Doppo said, taking Hifumi’s jacket off for him. This was ironic, because it was usually Hifumi pampering Doppo after a long day of work. Speaking of work, Doppo would have to return to the office again after this extended break - that was, if Hifumi was lucky. Maybe Doppo would go out on another out-of-office meeting with Yamamoto.

“Don’t like anyone other than me,” he blurted.

Doppo only blinked at him in response, used to Hifumi’s sudden declarations to take them all in stride. “Well...that’s going to be tough, considering I like Doctor...I mean, it’s hard to be in a group together and hate each other, right?”

“No, I mean...I mean at work.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that at all. If it’s between being stuck with you all day or being in the office all day, I think it’s pretty obvious which one I’d pick.”

“No! I mean! That woman!” Doppo startled at the way Hifumi was near tears again, but hesitated when Hifumi started thrashing around. “She’s totally into you, it’s so obvious. Well, I like you too! I bet I like you more!” Hifumi groaned and sank down in a despairing squat. “I love you, Doppo. I don’t want you to go off and marry that client woman.”

There was a long silence in the foyer. “I’m not going to date a client,” Doppo said finally. “That’s professional suicide. Or anyone in the office, for that matter. I don’t shit where I eat.” Hifumi groaned again into his hands. “Now come on. Don’t be difficult; let’s get you into the living room, if not your bed. Crying really wears you out.” Doppo sounded exhausted himself, as if speaking from experience.

He felt Doppo’s hand on his shoulder, lightly, and flung himself away. “What’s with you!” he cried. “Acting like nothing’s the matter...was that really so shocking and bad that you have to pretend I didn’t say anything?”

Doppo was squatting too, and now he was sighing, a note of frustration clearer than before. “Hifumi,” he said, curt like the way his voice cut during late nights when he had to take work home and fielded a call from a colleague, “I’m not going to treat you any different just because you have feelings for me. I’ve always treated you like I like you since way before.” When Hifumi gaped at him, wide-eyed, he scratched his chin. “...I’ve liked you since we moved in together. I don’t think I would have chosen to live with you if I didn’t more than tolerate you.”

Hifumi flung himself at him, and Doppo went slack, letting the momentum take them both to the floor. “You idiot!” But Hifumi was laughing now, weakly. “Why didn’t you say anything before? Leaving me to look like the fool.”

“Why would I burden you with how I felt? You obviously didn’t notice at all this whole time, and I’m not going to force you to respond to them. Do I really seem that inconsiderate to you?”

Hifumi gave him a long, sweet Hollywood kiss. It was just as good as all the sugary things he’d say to his own clients. Doppo kissed back, a hand loosely flung over the small of his back. “I have to go back to work,” Doppo said. He sounded disappointed, the minute difference in his voice practically unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t Hifumi. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

Hifumi let Doppo roll him off. “That woman likes you,” he said doggedly. “Push her away, okay? Tell her that you’ve got me and you’re not interested at all.”

“She doesn’t really like me. She’s just flattering me to get the contract done her way.”

“Why wouldn’t she like you? I like you, so she could too.”

“Not everyone has bad taste like you do.” Hifumi let Doppo lead him into their living room and fetch him a cup of water. “Okay, I’ve really got to go. Call me if anything comes up. Don’t call me to talk about how much you love me. I’m not going to answer.” Doppo really knew him too well. “Hifumi...I’m happy. Really. I can almost go back to the office and feel like I can finish the day.” He hesitated, almost vibrating with the exertion of confessing, and scrambled out the door. Hifumi watched him, failing to resist his smile despite the crash of the door slamming shut behind Doppo.

Doppo and Jakurai told him to rest, but now he felt like doing anything but. He could make their shared favorite dishes for dinner, along with auspicious red rice. He knew Doppo had a dress shirt with a spot close to a tear he could mend, now with red thread against the white fabric to show that it was love. He could go out and buy them matching couples plates and mugs, to Doppo’s assured horror. He could call Jakurai and tell him that everything had been resolved and not to take it personally if they flirted during practice. Maybe he could post something on Instagram, knowing the other crews tended to keep tabs on each other, so Ramuda would know he was stupid and wrong. Suddenly it all felt so overwhelming that he settled back into the couch, the bumpy middle cushion slotting into his back. It didn’t matter what he did next. They had time. They had so much time.

[logans-chestnuts]

Wiggle It*

“Oh, I like this one. How much is he?” Logan heard a voice say. He turned away from the bar and saw you looking him up and down from a foot or so away.

Clementine said, “Sorry, dear, this gentleman is a newcomer, just like you. But I know we can find someone who you’ll like just as well.”

You gave him another once-over and said, “Pity. He’s certainly pretty enough.”

Logan looked you over, too. “Just coz I’m not for sale doesn’t mean I can’t be had, sweetheart,” he said with his trademark sexy smirk.

You gave him a chilly smile back and said, “Thanks but I don’t think you’re what I need.”

Logan leaned forward to whisper into your ear and said, “But am I what you want?”

You whispered back, “That depends. Have you ever stripped at a bachelorette party before?”

Logan leaned back abruptly, eyes wide in surprise.

“That’s right, stud, I’m just looking for someone to wiggle it and have bucks tucked into his g-string. Still up for it?” you said with a wink.

“Be happy to do a private show for you, darlin’,” he replied, smirk back in place.

“I’ll keep that in mind, darlin’,” you replied, mimicking his endearment, then dismissed him

Logan was intrigued. You hadn’t looked at him with any kind of lust, just a disinterested sort of evaluation. He decided to follow you.

“So, this might not be the best way to find what you’re looking for,” he said after taking a few long strides to catch up with you.

You looked at him again and said, “I think I still have a few options.”

“I’m Logan, by the way,” he said, stepping in front of you to stop your progress to the other side of the room.

“Y/N,” you answered politely, though you rolled your eyes a bit when he kissed your hand gallantly.

“Hey!” he said, catching the sarcastic eye gesture and smiling. “I’m being chivalrous, here!”

“You’re right, I am so sorry! I must have mistaken you for the perv who offered me a private strip tease like two minutes ago, but that guy is clearly still over –” you looked to where he had been standing, “but wait, he’s gone! Could it be that you were that perv and this chivalrous gentleman before me?” you said in a tone of false shock.

Logan grinned. “You’re fun. Who are you when you’re not attempting to procure exotic dancers in Westworld?” he asked, sipping at his whiskey.

You tilted your head a bit to consider him. “No one you’d be interested in.”

“I already am.”

“Riiiight,” you said. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to find a male prostitute or two and time’s awastin’…so, see ya, Logan.”

“No, I can’t take that chance. I’m just gonna have to help you.”

“You’re going to help me find a guy to dance for this party,” you said skeptically.

“Yeah. I know damn near every host in this park.”

“That is really not something you should brag about, buddy.”

“Really? Why not? You’re here, so you can’t be anti-Westworld.”

“I’m here on business. My guess would be you’re a rich playboy here for whatever sick pleasure you can find here that you can’t get in the real world. So, if you’ll excuse me, my boss until such time as I can find a less humiliating job has ordered me to set up a sleazy bachelorette party with sex dolls that they can do whatever they want to with no repurcussions. Pretty much one step up from The Hunger Games here, so good God, let me do my job so I can go back to looking for a new one!”

Logan drank the rest of his whiskey and handed it to a passing barmaid. “Come with me.”

Logan grabbed your hand and led you to a beautiful woman who was obviously in charge. “Hello, what can I do for you?”

Logan handed her a bill discreetly and said, “This lovely lady here needs to plan a little soiree for a bride to be and her friends. Now, this isn’t a typical Hen’s Night, so we’re going to need I’d say your three best guys to go and entertain the ladies for the night. Better make it four, actually. Anything the ladies want, yeah?”

“Of course, we’re happy to provide the best time to our guests.”

Logan turned the details over to you, and you let Maeve know where and when the men would be needed. She was also able to coordinate the alcohol. As those were the final two details, you were finished until it was time to set up for the party.

As you turned away from Maeve, Logan was waiting for you with a grin on his face. You smiled and said, “Thank you for your help. It would have been much more difficult without you.”

“Clementine is nice but Maeve is the brains of the operation. If you want something done, go to the top.”

“Well, it was really great of you to help out. Sorry I was such a bitch.”

You offered him your hand to shake and he bowed over it and kissed your hand again. “It was my pleasure. It would also be my pleasure to escort you to dinner, if you have time.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You are not going to get to do a private show for me, hon. I hate to rain on your little suave parade thing, but it’s not happening.”

“Right now, you are the most interesting person in this park. Whether or not I get to show you what a terrible dancer I am, I would love to spend more time with you.”

“I have about an hour and a half before I need to set up the party, so I guess we could have a quick bite together,” you said with a small smile.

Logan held out his arm and you linked yours with it and allowed him to lead you down the street.

You had a lovely – and expensive – dinner with Logan before you had to excuse yourself to check on the party. He walked you over to the place you had rented for the soiree, waited for you to check with the staff and then he walked you back to the hotel so you could change.

“You’re putting a lot of miles on those bespoke boots for someone you’re not getting into bed,” you said as you side-eyed him for the umpteenth time this afternoon.

“You’re awfully worried about whether I’ll be having sex tonight,” he said with an impish grin.

“Just making it clear that you’re not getting in my pants – or under my skirt. Whatever. I’m not having sex with you tonight.”

“Never say never, darlin’. I’m pretty irresistible when I turn on the charm,” he said as he dropped you at the door to your hotel room. “Have a wonderful time at your party, Y/N.”

“We both know I’m going to have a shitty night of watching a bunch of society bitches cheat on their husbands with robots.”

Logan threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, Y/N, I needed that. I hope your party goes well, then. Better?”

“I’ll allow it,” you said with a smile. “Thanks for all the help and dinner and for keeping me company. I’m sure your wife is a lucky woman.”

“You sneaky little devil, are you trying to find out if I’m married?”

“No, I’m just assuming you are based on what I know of other people who come here.”

“Well, I hate to – what’s the opposite of disillusion? Illusion? I hate to illusion you –”

“Pretty sure that’s not right,” you muttered.

“But,” he continued with that smirk you had actually started to like, “I am not married. So feel free to fantasize about me.”

“Thank you, kind sir, for allowing me free reign in my own mind. You are far too generous,” you said in a faux-grateful voice. Still, you were amused. He was a charming, handsome man.

Logan tipped his hat and walked away. You liked his swagger, you liked his smile, you liked his charm. Good thing you didn’t need to resist him on a daily basis, you probably wouldn’t last a week.

“Sorry the coat is so long and you couldn’t check out my ass,” he said before he turned and went down the steps.

You laughed and then used your key to enter your room. You had to get Westworld party ready.

The party was as insufferable as you expected. The hosts were so realistic that you actually blushed a few times, it felt like you were watching porn up close and personal. It didn’t rev your engine like it did these vacant rich bitches, but it did make you think about Logan’s swagger a bit – and wonder what he kept hidden under that coat. And gunbelt.

If he was a host, you could see the temptation. But his charm wasn’t just in his runway-perfect looks, though he certainly had that. There was a sparkle in his eye, an ornery tilt to his smirk. Logan had something that if they could program it into hosts, the human race would die out. He seemed like another rich boy who probably practiced his look of sophisticated ennui in the mirror, and then his smile and laugh just came out of nowhere and boom, that was all she wrote.

Which was why you were tilting your head sideways trying to understand what you were looking at while wondering how Logan would be in bed.

You made sure the platters stayed full and alcohol flowed freely, then gratefully directed the cleanup after the last drunken party guest had retired to her suite.

You were tired. It had been a long day and you wanted a shower and your bed. Unfortunately, you were in Westworld, and while the room was beautifully appointed, it was also authentically appointed, which meant tub, not shower. Oh, well, it might be good to have a soak at that.

On your way up to your room, you stopped off at the front desk to request extra towels. You sleepily trudged up the stairs and went into your room, undressing and running a bath. After you got yourself settled into the tub and washed your hair, you heard a knock at the door. Assuming it was the maid with the towels, you called out to come in.

You heard footsteps come across the room to the bathroom, then felt a ripple in the water. You opened your eyes to see Logan kneeling by the tub and trailing his fingers through the water. You gasped and reached for a towel to cover yourself.

“I gotta tell ya, Y/N, I did not expect this warm of a welcome.”

“I thought you were the maid!! Get out!”

“That does explain it. Since I’m here, though, want me to wash your back?” he said with that damned smirk.

That smirk. Suddenly, your long day and shitty boss were just too much. You wanted Logan. If ever there was a time for a fling, this was it. He was beautiful and he wanted you. “OK ,” you said, scooting forward in the tub to make room for him.

“Really?” he said, shocked. “I mean, be right there.”

He stood up and started pulling off his boots and gunbelt, then you stood up to help. Water and bubbles ran down your body and caught Logan’s eyes, distracting him from undressing. You pushed his jacket off his shoulders and unbuttoned his waistcoat, and then he came to his senses and kissed you.

The man could kiss. You were completely enthralled with his mouth on yours, your body pressed against his and soaking his clothes.

“How about we go to the bed and get dirty, then you can come and wash my back?” you asked in your sultriest voice.

“I’m at your service,” he said against your lips, lifting you out if the tub and setting you on the rug, grabbing a towel and kneeling to dry you off, following the towel with his lips. You ran your hands through his hair, reveling in the feel of the silky strands sliding between your fingers while his lips and tongue tickled your legs. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he tossed aside the towel, lifted one of your legs to rest on his shoulder and simply bombarded your senses with licks and hot breaths, vibrations and suction, nibbles and flicks. His hands ran up and down your ass and legs, both holding you in place and keeping you upright when the pleasure overcame you and you climaxed against his lips.

Logan stood before you, running his hands and lips up your body on his way back up. You melted against him and kissed him hungrily, pushing him into the bedroom and trying not to trip over each other without breaking the kiss, all the while trying to get his clothes off. By the time you backed him into the bed and fell on it, you had gotten his shirt off and his pants were somewhere around his knees. All of the important bits were bare, and you decided it was your turn to explore his body. You pushed his pants and underwear off his legs and he slid all the way up onto the bed.

He had a swimmer’s body, lanky and lean, but so strong. Everything – everything – about Logan was long. His body was perfection and you touched and kissed all of it that you could reach. His legs that flexed and clenched as your touch teased him, his toes that curled when you caressed his instep, you scratched lightly with your fingernails. His torso with his pronounced abdominal muscles that flexed when you lightly tickled his ribs and the touch of hair on his strong chest, there you licked and bit his nipples. His gorgeous neck begged to be kissed, licked, sucked and bitten. His strong arms had supported you while his fingers had teased and coaxed an incredible orgasm from you. And finally his throbbing cock that you were about to taste – so very long.

You met his eyes as he had been watching you admire his masculine beauty. He didn’t look arrogant or impatient, just like he was enjoying watching you appreciate him as he had savored your feminine curves. You lowered your mouth to his length and he threw his head back and groaned loudly.

His fingers tangled into your damp hair as yours had into his strands, and you spent as much time licking and teasing his cock as he had your core.

“Y/N, baby, stop, I wanna last longer, your mouth is too fucking good,” he groaned, pulling you off his cock. “I need to get inside that pussy.”

You crawled up his body, straddling his waist and rubbing against his cock, pulling a cry from Logan. His hands were everywhere at once, caressing, fondling and squeezing. His mouth was dropping wet kisses and biting and sucking any bit of skin he could reach while you explored his delicious body with your hands and mouth.

Finally, you both had reached a fever pitch and he flipped you on your back, taking complete control of the situation. Capturing your hands in one of his, he kissed you hungrily, like he was a starving man and you were a banquet. As he kissed you, his free hand trailed down your breasts to your tummy, and then you felt his cock probing at your dripping entrance.

As he slowly, oh-so-slowly slid into you, you moaned, voice growing louder as you were filled more fully than you could ever recall. He started moving, rolling his hips and you thrashed your head back and forth in your need, meeting his thrusts and squeezing him as much as you could, wringing grunts and moans from his lips as well.

He had drawn two more orgasms from you when you finally begged him to fill you with his heat. He let go of your hands and you clawed at his back and his ass, then flipped him over onto his back and rode him, bucking your hips against his, grinding on him while you squeezed him, reaching behind yourself to caress his balls.

Finally, you leaned forward and gripped at his chest, bouncing on his cock until he started grunting and growling, his moans coming from deep within.

“You like me riding your cock, Logan? You gonna give me your cream, baby?”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he panted. “So goddamn good baby, your pussy is perfect.”

“Fill it up,” you growled into his mouth, and he lost it, grabbing your hips and slamming himself into you over and over as he came and came, his hot seed causing you to cum on him again.

You collapsed against his chest, breathing heavily and utterly exhausted from all the pleasure this amazing man had given you.

When you had regained your senses, you turned your head and kissed Logan.

He rubbed his big hands up and down your back and sides, kissing you more tenderly than you would have expected. “Do I still get to wash your back?” he asked as he kissed your neck.

“Sounds wonderful. Do they have room service?”

“Yes,” he answered with a grin.

“Good. We’ll need to power up for the next round.”

“Yeah?” he asked with that damned sexy smirk.

“If you want,” you said, slightly less sure of yourself.

Logan kissed the tip of your nose, then hungrily kissed your lips. “I want.”

You kissed your way back into the bathroom and ran a new bath, Logan settling in back while you sat between his long legs and leaned against his chest. You were mostly trying to ignore the fact that this felt more intimate than you would have thought a one night stand would feel.

“So,” you said while he lazily ran his hands over your body. “How long are you booked to stay?”

“Scheduled til next Saturday. You?”

“I leave tomorrow.”

“That’s too bad. You didn’t get to see the best parts of the park.”

“Oh I think I did,” you said, turning your head and kissing him.

“Thank you very much, darlin’,” he replied.

“Oh believe me, it was my pleasure.”

“Don’t say ‘was,’ babe. We’re nowhere near done.”

“Mmmm,” you moaned quietly as he kissed your neck and cupped your breasts with his hands. “I guess I can sleep on the train.”

“That’s the spirit!” he said, one hand trailing down your stomach to tease you again.

You spent the rest of the night in Logan’s arms, some passionately and some sweetly. You finally dropped off to sleep cuddled next to him. He stayed awake and watched you rest and dream, more infatuated with you than he could believe.

When the sun began to lighten the horizon, Logan slipped from your bed, gathering his clothes and kissing your forehead. He then dressed quietly and slipped from your room.

An hour or so later, your alarm went off and you automatically looked for Logan, but he had gone.

“Probably for the best,” you whispered aloud to yourself.

You packed your bag and had breakfast, looking at the doorway every time anyone came in the dining room, hoping to get one last glimpse of Logan. When you heard the train arrive you knew it was time to go and realized that he was just going to be a wonderful memory without even a last name. If it weren’t for the fact that it was uncomfortable to sit and the love bites you’d had to use makeup to cover, you would have thought it had been just a vivid dream.

You made your way to the train depot and then boarded, going to a changing room and putting on your dress to return to the real world. As you sat down at a table and crossed your legs, you were joined on the banquette, an arm draping around your shoulders and a smiling Logan sitting so close your hips touched.

“I decided to head back early.”

“Oh no. Hope they refunded your money,” you said with a grin.

“Some things are just more important than money,” he said softly, looking into your eyes before he leaned in and kissed you gently.

“Good, coz I never got my private dance.”

[neshabeingchildish]

Lady and the Tramp

I do not know why the chapters of this story suddenly got so long! I’ve just been unable to stop writing lately. Stress writing, mostly, which I hate to do because sometimes, that can send the story off track. Of course, it can also ignite some of my greatest ideas. Unfortunately, I never know until after y’all tell me what my stress writing came through with. 😭 At any rate, I definitely will cover the conversation later. I didn’t have the place in this chapter to do so. Your reviews are keeping me sane.

Lady and the Tramp

After the sophomore summer, Charlotte knew that she wasn’t going to be able to make anymore trips home. The amount of lab work that she would be doing, the conferences and a lot of the other workshops and stuff she had to do would pull most of her time and being Jasper’s #1 Fan would take the rest. He had several competitions, matches, and games. She was skipping every boxing match, because she didn’t want him doing it in the first place and had even told him that he should go back to kite disc, but without him, the school’s team dissipated and he didn’t have the time to commit to the league again. 

Whenever it was Dodge-a-leen time, though, Charlotte was in the stands in brightly colored high waisted leggings with a Big Dog T-shirt, tied up in the back, and dog makeup on her face. She could do that deep voice barking that the fans often did, but she gave it a shot. With her tiny voice, it always stood out and everybody began calling her “Little Dog,” which Jasper loved, because that was his girl. She… had mixed feelings about it. She didn’t know that she cared for the nickname “Big Dog.” Henry used to call him that sometimes, but this was different. This nickname had come about from something that she still found embarrassing, though Jasper never had taken it as such. And also, she felt like Little Dog was a hop, skip and jump from being his bitch, and well… She guessed as long as nobody ever said THAT, she was fine. 

Besides, he still called her Chef’s Kiss and she now called him F Sized. She didn’t explain it to other people, as it started out as a little inside joke during one of her sexy study sessions with Jasper. He couldn’t get the answers right, therefore wasn’t allowed to touch the parts. That was how it worked. A was her backside, B was her chest, C was down there, and D - he was able to take her hand and put on his down there. But, if he wasn’t getting the answers correct, there wasn’t touching. She moved or stopped his hand if it was going to the wrong spot. He was struggling with the mock test and began grumbling about how he’d “cockblocked himself with stupidity.” 

While stupidity definitely was a turn off, Charlotte hadn’t viewed Jasper as stupid in a long time and she certainly hadn’t called him that ever since finding out that his stepdad did. Whenever he called himself that, she verbally redirected him. This particular study session, he said, “I have a humongous head with a stupid tiny brain in it.”

“You’re not stupid and if you were, your brain wouldn’t be smaller.”

“It is though. You know brains develop differently when kids have trauma, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” She fumbled over her words and managed to say, “I love your fun sized brain!” He loved that compliment. Fun Sized Brain was his new handle on Twitflash because of it.

“I appreciate that you said fun sized, because that is actually exactly what I think of your cute little body as!” She frowned. He smiled and explained, “Because you’re petite.”

“I got it.”

“You have a full sized heart, though!”

She smiled and shook her head, “See, I would have called yours friend sized, but I dig that full sized still fits the alliteration scheme.” 

He took her hand and placed it on himself, “Mm hmm, and what is this sized?”

“Fuck sized,” she said, without a pause and they both started laughing. “By the way, the answer is D, so I’ll count that as correct.”

“I don’t remember the question…” 

The only person she told the meaning of Jasper’s  F Sized nickname was Henry, and she’d said, “Because his brain is fun sized, his heart is friend sized and his manhood is fu…”

“Let me stop you there, Champ,” he said, laughing and shaking his head. “I’m glad that you two fixed everything. You’re not worried that it might go off track again?”

“No, we’ve done a lot of work together to make sure that we’re actually on the same page and have the same goals for us. PLUS, I got us affirmation journals. We decorated each other’s and we keep them, filling them up with greatness as we see it - like the good things we notice about each other, the positives that we see and the accomplishments made by one another. If we have negative times, one can invoke the affirmation journal and either read in it to reaffirm ourselves OR, if we’re that much in our feelings, the one of us that hurt the other will read affirmations to the hurt party. We haven’t had to use them… much, and we’ve both written a whole lot inside of them.”

“So, you two just carry around paper books and write every good thing in it that you can think about each other, so that if you argue, you’ll have the positives on record already to counter the bad feelings?”

“Bingo!”

“That’s… brilliant. Your idea?”

“Sort of. It was my idea to make it into this type of practice, but that was motivated by how Jasper got me not to break up with him. He let me see his life goals journal and I saw these really beautiful things that he’d written about me and it changed my heart. So, I thought of this idea for us to make a part of our love culture.”

“This is so stinkin’ cute. I can’t even bear it!” Henry said with heart eyes. “Ugh. I gotta find myself a lil’ nerd girl.”

“Find a lovable jock,” she advised.

“Jasper’s considered a jock, now?”

“I mean… he’s involved in the athletics program. Let me show you something, I think you’ll appreciate this..”  She dug around for a book then showed it to the video call she had open with Henry. It was a red leather bound book with various rocks attached to it, kinda like it was bedazzled, but not with sparkly rocks, and the title was scripted on in some of Charlotte’s nice scripting: Jasffirmation Journal. 

Henry gasped, “You did a fun pun!” “I did!” she cheered. 

“That’s a nice journal. What are all those rocks?”

“Those are various forms of jasper that I procured myself on an excavation assignment.”

“You’re freakin’ awesome, Char.”

“I definitely agree with that, but thank you!” 

“I gotta see what his looks like,” Henry said and texted Jasper to ask him to send him a pic of the affirmation journal he kept for Char. Within minutes, he received it. “OH MY GOD!” Henry said. Charlotte just smiled as Henry fawned over the realistic sketch of Charlotte with stars in her hair and coils that spelled: I’m Charstruck. “He did a fun pun too!”

“We worked with you and Ray for way too long,” she said. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, putting his phone aside. “Man, Jasper’s drawing is amazing. Is he taking art classes?”

“No. He’s a tattoo artist, though. Remember?”

“OH! He finished his apprenticeship. That’s cool. Will tattoos money put him through school?”

“One of his accounting major frat bros has helped him with his budget, which I used to do but hadn’t had the time to try to reorganize it, so this guy did. Jasper gets some funds from his fanbase, and he gets free stuff from local businesses and companies - like he’s got all this merch that he basically is a walking ad for and I keep telling him to see about talking to someone about sponsorship, but he’s just happy to get free stuff just for being popular and likable. I’m like, you can get paid to get free stuff for the same thing, Dude! So, he is doing just fine.”

“Does he have any tattoos? I’m not gonna get a tattoo from somebody who doesn’t have a tattoo, just on principle.”

“He’s got a few little ones,” she said.

“Really? What of?”

She smiled and sent Henry texts. She had photos of Jasper’s tats. The one on his arm, which was a blend of a lion and a bull with touching faces (because those were the animals of their zodiac signs and he’d designed the drawing), a Captain Man symbol on his left wrist, small enough to cover with a watch, if he had to for work or something, and the back shoulder that had Lady and the Tramp characters. “Dude… what?” Henry said, “Two of these are kind of big and why in the world did he get Lady and the Tramp tattooed on his body? Does Jasper realize that these are permanent?” “Yes, he does. He’s not an idiot. He got Lady and the Tramp because of the whole Big Dog, Little Dog thing. Lady and the Tramp is us.” She blushed.

“Awwww, well then it’s cute. I thought that he just liked the cartoon or something.” It’s shocking that he doesn’t have your name or something on him.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Does he and you just didn’t show me?”

“No. But… he’s mentioned wanting to get a tattoo of me over his heart. I don’t know how he can. His chest is an erogenous zone for him.”

“His… OK! That makes all those hickies on his chest make more sense now!”

“Those what?” Her eyes were wide. How the heck did Henry know that she’d put hickies on Jasper’s chest? They DID discuss their sex life!

“I saw hickies all over him one time, senior week and he wouldn’t say anything about it to me. And scratches on his back. Is his back an erogenous zone too?”

“No. I just used to have a real problem keeping control of myself when I was finishing. But, he actually likes that kind of stuff, so win-win, I guess. Why are we so casually discussing this?” she wondered.

“We’re friends and it’s normal.” She nodded. She hadn’t really thought to discuss stuff like this before outside of Jasper, but it came out surprisingly smoothly when talking to Henry. She was able to talk a little more about things with him. But, they wouldn’t be able to see each other in person for a while. Their schedules were simply too demanding. She hated it, but it was one of the things that she’d mentally prepared for whenever she first left home.

.

Women make up 56% of the college population. 25% of college seniors are virgins. 32.5% of college relationships are long distance. 1 in 4 college students have an STD. 63% of college women hope to meet their spouse in college. By senior year, 72% of college students have hooked up. ⅓ college students have been on fewer than 2 dates. Quick Facts: One of the top reasons college students break up is cheating. College students prefer short-term, casual relationships over long-term relationships because it allows them to focus on their academic and career goals. Most college couples break up around spring break, summer vacation, and right before winter break. 28 % of married college graduates attended the same school, but only 2% of North American marriages are comprised of high school sweethearts.

With numbers like that, it was really easy for me to believe that with Jasper’s personality and follow through that we couldn’t possibly be a part of that 2%. And even if we had been, what about those other stats? How much of it would be applicable. Wouldn’t one of us hook up with someone? Wouldn’t someone cheat? Wouldn’t we break up? For a first time relationship to be the last one that you’ll ever have, these possibilities become more or less likely dependent upon what stage in the relationship I was in. It was a fluctuating scale, to be honest. But, by junior year, I definitely felt like I was in a confident place.

Jasper makes me proud, all of the time, His thinking has become much more critical. His plans make more sense. His ability to manage his time has improved. He’s been calling himself a “Textbook Leo,” which has been annoying, because the traits that you didn’t see before, it’s like he tries to make sure that he has them now. That’s fine for some things. Silly for others. But, he’s very focused and he’s going to be a very accomplished man. I believe that with all of my heart. 

One of the last times that Henry was able to visit was whenever Charlotte first moved into her new apartment after Rush Week. Jasper helped her to pack, but got the pledges to move all of her things. The apartment that she found was closer to Jasper, in a nice sized townhouse style apartment within walking distance of the frat house, but of course, the guys had to go to another side of town to grab her things from her previous dormitory. Jasper’s little brother was responsible for overseeing - making sure nobody damaged or tried to steal anything, holding on to the keys of her dorm, and personally handing them to her after her things were cleared out and he’d locked up. Charlotte liked him. She was the reason that Jasper had selected him and he was closer to her than to Jasper, but only because it was hard to get close to Jasper, especially now that he believed himself to be a king.

Henry helped Charlotte to unpack, wishing that he still had that hypermotility. Dang, that would have made this a breeze. Charlotte had a lot of stuff and she was very particular with how she set things up. One area that he was intrigued by looked like a shrine of sorts, with a shelf in the middle, and she hung a photo of her and Jasper above it. “What is that?” 

“My gift center,” she said, setting things there from a box marked Gifts From Jasper. “I keep stuff that Jasper gives me in an exposed and visible area. It helps the room to have a good attitude.” He made a confused face, but didn’t want to even ask. “I can feel the energy in these gifts, because I know the motivations and the emotions behind them,” she explained.

“You becoming all metaphysical on me?”

“Not all, but I definitely feel like… energy is something that can be manipulated by certain objects and intentions. Like, you ever meet someone and you can just feel that something is off about them? That’s how I was with Casper and I was absolutely correct about her, even though for a whole year she was nothing but pleasant to me, I knew that there was some negative vibrations there.”

“You do like tarot cards and stuff?” He asked.

“No. I don’t know enough about that area of spirituality and I honestly don’t feel like committing the time to learn.”

“Dang. I was gonna ask you to do a reading for me,” Henry joked.

“We can go to one. There’s a girl in the BSU that does them. I feel like she’s the real deal. She grew up in Louisiana in this matriarchal witch family. Though… I don’t know if witch is the right word. I can’t remember what she said. Jasper might, though. He’s fascinated by that stuff. They have an entire segment on the radio show for African spirituality and diaspora practices.”

“I… we should get a reading, just as a gag.”

“You don’t do it as a gag!” She complained, shaking her head. 

“Okay, we can do it for real, then.”

“Well, I’ll have to see if she’s available. She has an online business, where she prepares spells and herbal roots and oils and jewelry and stuff. I’ll check her prices for the readings.” She grabbed her phone and Henry kept unpacking. They were bringing the empty, broken down boxes to the recycling bin whenever Jasper’s truck pulled up. They heard him before they saw him. The truck was always so loud, but it was old and cheap, so that was why he had it. He didn’t want to spend a lot of money on something that he only planned on driving for now. Charlotte began buying her reliable but affordable car in high school. She made regular payments on it to try to help build her credit and by the time she was ready to leave for college, it was paid off. It was a metallic gold hatchback and had horse decals on it. Jasper’s big orange truck had all kinds of bumper stickers and window stickers that he’d peppered it with. Henry turned up his nose, “Why is it orange?”

“That was the cheapest thing that he could find when he was looking, and he loves it. He says that he’s always gonna have orange vehicles, now.”

“WHY?”

“Probab;y because he’s an attention whore,” she said. 

Jasper had a pretty booming speaker system in the truck and was blasting music, because that helped him not to hear the troubling sounds that the truck made. He turned off the car and got out with a little box, “Hey, Henry!” he said and waved at him. “Chef’s Kiss…” He slid the box to Henry and wrapped his arms around Charlotte. “Did New Henry give you your keys?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Did who?” Henry asked.

“His little brother,” Charlotte said.

“His name is Henry too?” Henry asked.

“No,” Charlotte said, but left it at that and asked, “What’s that?”

“A homewarming present,” Jasper said and took the box back. It made tiny whimper sounds and she noticed it had holes in it. 

“Housewarming, and Jasper, is that a living creature?”

“You don’t have a house. You have an apartment, and no..” he opened the box and said, “It’s TWO living creatures!” She looked to see two very adorable puppies with collars and tags… “Lady and the Tramp!” 

“Wow. All I got you was a cake.”

“I prefer cake,” she said, then to Jasper, “Jasper, you cannot just give people responsibilities as a housewarming gift! I don’t have time to raise two dogs!”

“I’ll be here like everyday. All you’ll need to do is be happy to see them when you get home.” She bit her thumbnail and stared at him, displeased. That was what that face was. He knew that much. He handed the puppy box to Henry again, pulled out his life goals journal, unlocked it and made an X on the list, which made Charlotte smile, in spite of herself. “I am willing to take on all of the responsibilities parts of them. I’ll make sure they’re fed and clean and…”

“You need to make sure that they know how to use the bathroom before they are moving in here, Dude. I’m not cleaning up dog poo from any surface of my new apartment.”

“That’s fair,” he said. Henry was already petting the boxed puppies and taking photos when Jasper reached for the box. “I’m gonna let them run around in the back of the truck while I’m here. That’s where I got the dog house, anyway.”

“The…” Charlotte looked and saw the doghouse that she didn’t know where the heck he thought that he was putting in her apartment. She turned around and went into the apartment, leaving both dudes and both dogs outside.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell her that they’re both girls because I couldn’t find a male Schnauzer for Tramp. I don’t think she’ll like me naming a girl Tramp, but it’s symbolic.”

“I don’t think that Charlotte likes animals,” Henry said, climbing into the back of Jasper’s truck. “And, she seems more like a cat person, right?”

“She just doesn’t have the time to raise them, but she’s gonna love Lady and the Tramp, once they’re ready to be civilized.”

“She didn’t love Katelyn. She barely acknowledged that she was alive and Katelyn was effing adorable.”

“She took care of Katelyn all of the time! You just weren’t there to see it,” Jasper fussed.

“Why are you getting pissed?”

“I’m not. I’m just irritated that you’re acting like you still know her better than I do.”

“That’s not what I’m… I’m sorry. How are you doing? What season is it for your sports?”

“Wrestling season is October until March. Boxing events usually begin in March. I have Dodge-a-leen practices all year, but tournaments are late spring, usually. Thinking about reviving kite disc for good on campus and just having it be among frats and stuff. I miss it, but I had to give it up. I’d give up anything for Charlotte.”

“Is… that why you felt like you had to give me up?” Henry asked. Jasper gave him a look. “I just felt like we could all still be friends. Whenever you left for college, you were really on this ‘of course we’ll still be friends’ thing, but we haven’t talked out what happened.”

“What’s there to talk out? I apologized and you said, NBD.”

“I said NBD because you apologized, but that doesn’t mean it was resolved. Especially because you told me that I never reached out to you, then when I did, you weren’t available,”

“So, I was supposed to wait for you to decide that you had some need for me? I have things to do, too. Maybe I’m not saving Swellview, but I’m not sitting around waiting to mean something to you, either.”

Henry set The Tramp down and clasped his hands together, “I’m still the same dude who was willing to give up Kid Danger for you. I’m still the same person who took on a full shift at Cactus Con so you could be on a date! I’m still…”

“You’re still the dude who was having wet dreams about my girlfriend right before we got together and acted like I was being an asshole for not wanting you to sleep in the same bed anymore!”

“Okay. Okay. Well, I apologize for making you feel uncomfortable…” 

“Being friends means respecting boundaries. This is the woman that I plan to marry. Your friendship makes me uncomfortable, but that’s not why you and me fell out. You and me fell out because whenever I expressed to you how I felt about it, you talked to me like I was a dumbass, and you accused me of mistreating Charlotte!”

“You were mistreating Charlotte!”

“That wasn’t the way to say it! When I’m trying to tell you what I don’t like or don’t want to happen and you respond that way, it makes me feel like not only did you not care about my boundaries, but you used her pain to try to attack me because you didn’t like me setting those boundaries! And… That’s just fucked up to do to both of us, yet I’m the only person who apologized for my behavior that night. I’ve been apologizing to people for standing up for myself for too long. I know myself better and I deserved better.”

Henry nodded his head and collected Lady to pet her and help him feel better. “That is a lot to process. That makes sense. I think you’re right and I never realized any of that before now, because we didn’t talk about it. But, no matter what kind of dreams I had about Charlotte years ago, mind you… I’d never try to do anything with her and even if I had, she’d shoot me down and probably clobber me. She’s been dickmatized by you since Day 1.”

“I don’t like…”

“I mean, she’s been enamoured with you. Most of the time we talk, it’s about your relationship and how much she loves you. I envy that and I would love to have that with someone, but that someone would never even cross my mind to be Charlotte. And I will sleep in my van before I make you feel that uncomfortable again, or before I won’t hear you out when you’re telling me about boundaries, or before I go without just kickin’ it with my bro for all this time. I’ve got an empty spot where you’re supposed to be, in here, Dude.” He pointed all of his fingers to his heart.

Jasper smiled and said, “You know how she got into her whole energy/vibrations thing? She was researching what Jasper meant, because she had this idea to gift me some Jasper stones and she wanted to know more about them. So, she read somewhere that Jasper is the “Supreme Nurturer,” a stone of grounding and stability, providing comfort and security, strength and healing. Its presence balances the aura to a level of wholeness and peace, and acts as a reminder that one is not here on the physical plane simply for oneself, but to bring joy and substance to others… and she said, “Babe… That is SO you!” And I cried and I started looking for the perfect ring… and she started looking into stones and energy and all that stuff.”

“She’s right, though, That is so you. Why do you think I miss you so much?”

“I missed you too.. I just couldn’t let go of my pride until you seemed like you really cared about what I was trying to tell you that I cared about.” They smiled at each other, then hugged it out.

“So… Did you find it? The perfect ring?”

“No. I think I may have to have it made.”

“Does she know that you’re looking?”

“I haven’t confirmed anything, but she’s the smartest person I know, so maybe.”

“Well, I won’t say anything, but damn it, I’d better be included on however it happens… Unless it's a private just you and her typed thing.”

“I’m trying to find the perfect way too…” Jasper admitted. “When you’ve been doing great things for somebody for a while, it’s hard to outdo yourself.”

“Yeah, the stuff that she brags on you about, I honestly don’t know how you can possibly top them, but you keep doing so, so…” Henry shrugged and sniffed around, “What is…”

“LADY!” Jasper said and Henry looked down at the puppy who peed on him. 

“That’s awesome…” he said, sarcastically.

.

It was good for Jasper to have Henry back, The dynamics of their friendship had definitely changed, as Jasper was less determined to lay himself down for Henry, but he still loved him and having him and Charlotte around when it was time to meet his dad was encouraging. It was a 4 hour drive, so Charlotte drove the way to get to Henry and then Henry drove the rest of the way to Mr. Dunlop’s place. 

Whenever they pulled into the address that had been given to Jasper online, the first thing that Jasper did was take the dogs to make waste. Henry and Charlotte were going to take them for a walk while he met up with his dad and not be too far away, in case he had to call on them. 

Charlotte was carrying Lady because, “She gets excited and runs off too much,” but, they both had leashes, so Henry was confused, but didn’t bother. 

Charlotte kept looking at the house, no matter how far they got from it and checking her phone. Henry realized that she probably was in protective mode. Whenever she thought her Jasper was in trouble, she was one feisty little woman. “Hey! Remember that time that Ray punched Jasper out and you came in and on sight, beat him up with your backpack?” She gave him a blank stare, unsure of why he was bringing that up. He smiled awkwardly. “That was funny to me… Albeit, terrifying.” He shut up.

“Trample, where you goin,’ Sis?” Charlotte said and Tramp turned around and came rushing back to her. “Here,” He said, handing Lady off to Henry. 

“Last time I held her, she peed on me.”

“Dude, that was months ago.” Charlotte said, dismissively and picked up Tramp. 

“They can walk and we have leashes, why do you keep holding them?” He asked.

“The musty lady in the apartments let her dogs free run beside her and one of them got hit by the public bus!” Henry gasped in horror and cuddled Lady close to himself. “Yeah. That public bus near the apartments is scary. I don’t want them to get used to just running around, unless I live somewhere with an open area and minimal vehicles. A college town is kind busy for that.”

He nodded, “Okay, okay… But… We’re not in town right now and I haven’t seen any vehicles since we got here. Let’s just let them use these for now and if something happens, we pick them back up.” She nodded and let him put the leashes on the girls and walk them. “Are you worried about Jasper, Dude?” Whenever she was worried, she was a little more high strung. She nodded. “His dad seems like he wanted to meet him. I think it’s probably going well.”

“Yeah, but… Jasper just got to where he’s able to balance his issues out with his current situation and I just don’t want anybody shaking him up and throwing him off of his center.”

“That’s not gonna happen as long as he has you. From how I understand it, you’re his center.” She took a deep breath and looked at the house again. “Let’s go back and see if we can check on him,” Henry suggested. 

A dark skinned woman with a huge afro, in draping, colorful clothes and a lot of jewelry opened the door and smiled at them. Charlotte and Henry glanced at their car in the driveway, then the house, then the woman. Charlotte asked, “Is… Is Jasper Dunlop here?”

“Yeah, he’s here.” She said and opened up to let them inside. “They’re in the meditation room. Mind taking off your shoes? Also, we’ll bring the dogs out back. It’s fenced in and covered. Hawks won’t get to them.”

“Hawks???” Charlotte shrieked. 

“Hawks WON’T get to them,” Henry repeated. “Thank you,” he said. “She’s kind of an anxiety mom.”

The Black woman said, “Well, I can make you some relaxation tea. It was helpful for Jasper. Passionflower with a little lavender and chamomile. You’ll calm down and also sleep like a baby tonight.”

“I… Are you a witch?” Charlotte asked.

“You can say that. I’m a healer, a practitioner of Hoodoo herbalism, tribal holistic care and divination.”

“Oh! Like your friend from Louisiana,” Henry said to Charlotte.

“They have a deep history with spirituality and healing in Louisiana, but I’m from Oklahoma. Descendant of African slaves and Native American slave owners, if you can believe it.While we were recently expelled from tribes as members, you can’t illegalize blood, therefore the magic of all of my ancestors is within me,” the woman said, nodding her head as she released the dogs from their leashes and helped them through a doggie door. “I began to seek out the meanings of my dreams and found a mambo who connected me to my roots. I began practicing, only first to see if I really had a gift, then years later, as a believer. It’s how I met Jack Leigh. He wanted help from some things and a friend told him about me. But, then he saw me and forgot what he wanted help with and asked me on a date, instead.” She laughed.

“I can see why,” Henry said. 

Charlotte mumbled, “I can see why Jasper’s mom hates me.”

The woman shook her head, “Is there anybody that woman doesn’t hate?”

“Herself?” Henry tried to guess.

“I wish that were true. That’s where she has to begin her healing and until she does, none of her intentions will be corrected.”

“Are you Jack Leigh’s wife?” Henry wondered.

“I am so sorry! I never introduced myself. Adanna Blackfoot.” She shook both their hands and led them to a sink in the little side area of the kitchen that looked out into the backyard. Charlotte could see the doggie enclosure. There were all kinds of plants and flowers growing on the fence surrounding them. The three of them washed their hands and talked a little while. Charlotte was fascinated with Jasper’s stepmom, though she said she didn’t feel that was a fair title, because she only knew Jasper from afar and word of mouth. But, Charlotte still wished THIS was the woman who’d raised her man. He’d be so much more in love with himself, and not just faking it. They eventually made it to the meditation room and Jasper was happy to see them. “Sorry, was I taking too long?”

Charlotte met him with a hug and a kiss, “I was worried about you, but Adanna eased my mind.”

“She and Uncle Rox would be great friends,” Jasper said.

“Uncle Rocks?” Jack Leigh repeated, confused, because Jasper didn’t have any uncles by that name.

“My uncle Roscoe,” Charlotte said.

“Roscoe Bolton?” Jack Leigh asked. From their faces, he could tell that was who they meant. “Wait a minute… You mean to tell me that your fiance is The Bolt’s niece?”

“Uncle Rox just became infinitely cooler because he is known as The Bolt. Say more, right now!” Jasper said, excitedly. Charlotte was more on the we all just glazed by that F word, huh? 

“Hell, The Bolt introduced me and Adanna! What’s he up to? I haven’t heard from that fool in years.”

“Still a fool,” Charlotte and Henry said, but Jasper had said, “He’s the best!” Charlotte looked at Henry and said softly, “So… did you hear him say…”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Okay. Tell me something,” she said and laughed a little. Fiancee? Was that how Jasper had described her? Because… YEAH - they most definitely were most likely gonna get married. She certainly hoped so, but they hadn’t discussed it in a solid form yet. It was more like how kids discussed graduation… an event that you look forward to and you know it’s happening and even have certain elements and dreams about it that you must include. But, not knowing what college you’d attend, what your GPA will be, what major you would choose. It was like, sure marriage was a real possibility, but it wasn’t something he’d asked her to do or something she had started preparing for - things that she associated with being a fiancee… Everybody was looking at her and she rewinded her mind a little to try to recall what they’d said in the background while she was in her thoughts. Think he’d mind if I got his contact info? “Uh, no. I’ll give him a call and verify, though…”

“Small world,” Henry said.

“It’s a huge world, but everything is definitely connected,” Adanna said, pouring the new brew of tea for the additional guests.

.

At some point, after a lot of laughter and stuff, Henry said, “Hey… Adanna, do you do like readings?”

“Not professionally,” she said. “I’ve limited it to friends and family, loved ones, for personal reasons.”

“Oh,” he said, sadly. “Char and I have been trying to make an appointment with her friend, but our schedules never line up with her available spots.”

“Well, for the two of you, of course, I would.” She said and smiled, getting up to retrieve her cards. Charlotte was staring at Jasper, still thinking about the F word and wondering what happened before they made it in. He’d definitely been crying at some point. He had his ‘crying bags’ under his eyes. He was in good spirits now, but she wanted to know what went on when she wasn’t there to protect and comfort him. He looked back at her and made a confused face. He was wondering what she was thinking about. She mouthed ‘I love you,’ to him and watched the smile on his face beam. “I’m so lucky,” he said out loud. Jack Leigh smiled at the two of them. Beautiful couple. Wonderful boy. He’d really messed up missing out on shaping him.

[mateasers]

— Welcome to Wade, Illinois!

Voted “Best Place to Live” in some magazine circa 1974. It hasn’t changed much since, which might explain why it never made the list again. 

There are rows, and rows of homes that all look the same on each street. They all have vinyl siding, and they all have black mailboxes. The lawns are well taken care of, and the blinds are tightly shut. If you keep riding your bike from street, to street, you might begin to think you’re lost. Have I been here before? Did I make a wrong turn? You can’t tell. Everything looks the same. You can’t even pick out which house is yours anymore. It all looks the same. By some miracle you manage to get home just before it begins getting dark. Perfect timing. Your mother is happy about that, and she let’s you know, doting on you as soon as you walk through the door. People haven’t been staying out past dark since Josie went missing. Better safe than sorry.

Whenever you go into the grocery store you are assaulted by the bright, fluorescent lights that line the aisles, and by the girls you went to high school who never made anything of themselves. You two pretend that you don’t know each other’s names, but you shared a homeroom three years in a row. Your father used to work with her father, and so on, and so-forth. She checks you out wordlessly, with minimal if any eye contact, but you know she’s judging you for buying condoms when you’re not in a serious relationship. Either she’ll tell her mother, and the ladies who play bridge on Tuesday at Tanya Redding’s house will deem you some kind of hussy, or she’ll tell her girlfriends, and they’ll whisper other things about you when you pass by them at the mall. “Why buy something you don’t need?” Giggle, giggle. Those types of girls are always giggling. It’s a shallow, and an empty sound. There’s nothing behind it. You don’t stop them because that giggle is the only thing they’ve got. They’re rotting.

You run into your neighbor on your way home. You’re always running into your neighbor. She is simply unavoidable. You wonder if she waits by her window just to know when you step outside your door. She always has some type of plan to tell you, some kind of message to give your parents, some kind of condolence to give… Some kind of comment about the way you look. You wish she wouldn’t concern herself with any of it, especially with you. “That new haircut sure looks nice.” You know she doesn’t mean it. She’s always lying about stupid things like that. You wish she’d save her breath. Sometimes you wish she’d disappear. But don’t speak too soon, now, because you can’t take that back. And you’d hate to see her go the same way as Josie.

Speaking of Josie, the old men at the diner are talking about her again. They think she must have been in some kind of a cult, and they wonder if Red is a part of it, too. You wonder if they should be talking about the man in his own establishment. They certainly shouldn’t be doing it when he’s in earshot. They look down at their plates (meatloaf, it’s the special) with mild concern as to exactly WHAT type of meat they’re ingesting. For some reason, they don’t push their plates away in disgust, as you would expect, they simply keep on eating. You feel your stomach doing somersaults. You just came in for a coffee. You probably won’t eat anything at Red’s Diner ever again. On second thought, the pancakes, and sausage that the waitress is bringing to the next booth over look awfully good. And those rumors PROBABLY aren’t true, anyway.

 There’s a thirty year old man who works at the roller rink on the edge of town, and sells weed to kids behind the dumpster on the side. People talk about him like he’s some kind of legend because he procures the only thing that makes this town at least somewhat bearable for the restless youth. You think that pot is laced with something because they’re all so wild eyed. Their pupils turn to pin pricks, and they can barely form sentences when you try to speak to them. You can’t believe the police department hasn’t cracked down on this guy yet. What are they doing all day, twiddling their thumbs? 

Maybe if they worked a little harder, Josie wouldn’t have gone missing at all, and everyone in town wouldn’t be acting like they’ve got something to hide. Yes, this town is chock-full of people who you pretend you know like the back of your hand, but you’ve never really known them at all. You wonder if you even know your parents– as you sit across from them at the dinner table, and they’re wearing those tight-lipped grins again. You’re having meatloaf tonight, too. They tell you they love you, but it falls flat to the ear. You can’t tell if they were always like this: beautiful, but so two-dimensional, like cardboard cutouts. They don’t feel like real people. But then again, you’ve never left this town, you probably wouldn’t know a “real” person if you met one.

 A familiar feeling comes over you again, and you feel like you have to escape. You jump up from the dinner table, but your parents don’t budge. Your mother is staring straight ahead at your father, though she speaks directly to you without eve looking towards you, “… Won’t you say excuse me?” You practically want to scream, a real horror movie scream, but instead you say excuse me in a calm voice that you’re sure isn’t yours. The people in Wade have good old-fashioned American manners. You run towards the door, and you grab the keys to the used car you got for your sixteenth birthday. It’s raining out, and the station wagon stalls when you try to turn they key. It feels like a horror movie again, but there’s no one chasing you. At least from what you can see. You turn the key once more, and again, until finally the motor starts to hum. You breathe a sigh of relief, and begin backing out of the driveway, and onto the street. You’re certain you know the way to the highway, and you begin driving in that direction.

It’s nearly been two hours since you burst out of the house, and you still haven’t moved an inch. You swear you’re driving, but all you see are the same houses. You pass them, one by one, and than you pass your own. You make a left turn, you make a right turn, but you always end up back on your street. Why can’t you just leave? Chicago is only a couple of hours away, you could make it there by morning if you could just find the highway. After what feels like an eternity of driving, you turn back into your driveway. The light in the neighbors’ living room is on, and you can see something poking through the drapes. You know it’s her. When your eyes meet, she steps back quickly, out of embarrassment, you assume. She’s such a gossip. You know she’ll be talking about why you were out so late.

Your parents are still sitting at the dinner table when you enter the house. It’s nearly two in the morning, and they haven’t touched their plates. Tomorrow you’ll try leave again, but you never do.

                                                              ~

MIDDLE AMERICA is a literate, skeleton roleplay, which chronicles the lives of the all too normal residents of Wade, Illinois, a seemingly sleepy suburban town, practically set back in time, where nothing ever happens… except for when it does. The group will play heavily on the gothic, and science fiction genres—aiming to spook, confuse and thrill all those involved throughout the course of the gameplay. It is for this reason that the roleplay does not have a typical “plot line” as one might expect to see, where all the facts are laid out for writers – rather there will be a series of plot drops, and events as time goes on that will help everyone develop their own theories, and ideas as to what the hell is going on in Wade. The truth will slowly be revealed (or maybe it’s been there all along). 

WHEN WE BEGIN: As Middle America opens up, Wade can be thought of as your typical American small town. There aren’t many chain restaurants, or stores, and you have to drive about a half an hour to get to the nearest mall, or Walmart. Everyone knows their neighbors, and secrets aren’t exactly well kept. The town itself is a troupe, and its filled with characters that are heavily influenced by small-town-y troupes as well, so if you have any basic ideas about what the suburbs are like, you’ve basically got Wade nailed down. The houses are too close together, the people are highly critical of each other, and everyone is deeply invested in the “safety, and sanctity” of their neighborhood. Everyone’s itching to get out of town, and make something of themselves… But they never do. The most exciting news on any given day is typically what’s on the menu at the local diner, or some he-said/she-said story that one of the soccer mom’s has been telling anyone who’ll listen to her. 

Though in recent years, there have been some unsettling developments that have caused something of an outcry from longtime citizens of Wade, such as permits for building large, commercialized plazas, and exclusive housing communities. The average house in Wade is a moderately sized raised ranch, but with the influx of young, wealthy professionals, some “McMansions” of sorts have begun to spring up towards the outskirts of town. This has resulted in general discomfort on the part of older residents who are more set in their ways, and distrustful, and jealous of the upper crust. These newcomers are often blamed for the wide array of weird, creepy, and inexplicable things that have been taking place in Wade for the last year– all of which seem to have culminated in the death of Josie Johnson, a local town treasure, gone too soon.

She used to bake the best cherry pies, and give the warmest welcomes; she would even speak to complete strangers as if they were some of her oldest friends. The gruesome, almost unfathomable details of her death have left the people of Wade wondering whom they can trust, and how well they really know each other after all. It’s still very much the talk of the town, though it’s been a couple months now since her passing.

Before Josie’s death, there had been a few unusual occurrences as well, but those seem mild in comparison; however, in a dull town like this one, things like this are considered incredibly unnerving, and downright shocking. Days before Josie’s death someone drove their luxury car into the pharmacy because they fell asleep at the wheel, but had no memory of the incident when they were questioned, glowing eyes have been seen frequently spotted in the dead of night, and one of the three little Williams girls wandered off into the lake behind the recreation center, and nearly drown though she’d been taking swimming lessons for three months. Weirdest of all, only days before Josie’s death, one of Wade’s police officers was found dead in his car, in his garage in an apparent suicide with a singular hole to the head… a perfectly circular hole. Though ultimately the cause of death was determined to be carbon monoxide poisoning rather than a gunshot wound; his police issued weapon hadn’t been shot within twenty-four hours of his death, and wasn’t even in the car with him.

All undoubtedly STRANGE considering the craziest thing to happen in town prior to this year was a massage parlor on Main Street closed down for offering “happy endings” to its customers under the table in the late nineties. This is not to mention that some of the locals have been acting different, and calls about short disappearances of the same nature as Josie’s are coming in quicker than the police department can manage to investigate them. Everyone is constantly looking over his or her shoulder; everyone is suspicious of one, and other. Any irregular behavior, no matter how small, or how easily explainable could be misinterpreted as dangerous, and anyone may be written off as part of Wade’s “ great, big problem” so to speak. The town is truly on edge, and something has to give before it descends into utter chaos… unless it already has.

What is happening, and why it’s happening in Wade (or if ANYTHING is happening at all) remains to be seen. More answers will be coming throughout the course of game play. Patience, and curiosity is appreciated. 

[vampwrrrmistresslist]

Haunted 1

You had fallen in love with his changeable grey eyes.  Dark and stormy when he was troubled, silver and shining as mirrors, when he was happy.  Tall, dark, dimpled, and boyishly handsome, Oliver had swept you off your feet before you could even think, much less protest.  He was everything that you’d ever wanted, the answer to all of your questions, and you fell.  Within weeks, he told you that he loved you, and within months he had convinced you to follow him halfway across the world to teach English, while he was placed as a foreign liaison in a rising trading company.

Oliver showered you with attention.  Every little thing about you fascinated him, and he wasn’t shy about sharing his fascination about you, with you.  You were his favourite subject, he was fond of saying, and he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life studying you.  Even past the first whirlwind of courtship, before he convinced you to run away with him, he was always there, surprising you at work, or coming over to your house all the time, just to talk and cuddle.  You couldn’t get enough of him, and it was his pleasure to always give you more.

Another thing that you loved about him was how invested he was.  If you took him clothing shopping, he actually had opinions, and wasn’t afraid to share them with you.  He took the time to get to know you, enabling him to advise you on everything from how you should do your hair, to the most flattering clothes for your figure, to whether you should try for a promotion.  

He always joked that you were like Bonnie and Clyde, that you were ride or die, the two of you against the world, and it felt wonderful to be part of something bigger than yourself.  To be part of a unit with a man that you could trust more than anyone you had ever known.  

He was also deliciously protective.  Oliver couldn’t bear to think of anyone bothering, or disturbing you, and whenever a guy tried to come onto you, he was quick to let them know that you were fully taken.  

Oliver was a dream. Everything that you had ever wanted, he was practically perfect in every way.

Until he wasn’t.

You gingerly dabbed concealer on your cheekbone, tapping lightly to spread it evenly without making it look cakey.  Backing away from the mirror, you turned your face this way and that, looking at yourself from every angle to ensure that your makeup was flawless.  Oliver was being honoured at a Very Important work gala, and you couldn’t look anything less than your best.  

He popped his head in the bathroom as you moved on to blending everything with your cushion, giving you a once-over as you worked.  “That dress is a bit revealing for a work dinner, isn’t it?” he asked.

“You picked it out,” you murmured, dabbing makeup on your chin.

“I know, but that was months ago, when it was still warm outside.  Why don’t you wear a jacket, to cover your shoulders, so that you don’t catch cold?

“Alright,” you conceded.  

“The navy blue silk bolero I bought you would match your dress pretty perfectly, don’t you think?”

You nodded, moving on to pile your hair on top of your head.

Oliver looked at you from behind, then lifted his hands to gently take yours, bringing them down.  “You should wear your hair down tonight.  You always look especially enchanting when your hair frames your face.”

“Do you think so?” you asked mildly.  “Alright.  I will.”

“That’s my girl!” he smiled.  “Would you like for me to grab your jacket for you?”

“I can manage,” you averred sweetly.  Oliver always loved it when you spoke sweetly.  He said that your voice was made to be sweet, and soft. Gentle, and mild.

“Okay.  Hey, have you seen my cuff-links?”

“Which ones?”

“The onyx?”

You shook your head.  “Didn’t you let your friend borrow those for his brother’s graduation party?

He frowned.  “You’re right.  He still hasn’t returned them.  I’ll have to track him down and make them give them back.”

Finishing your makeup, you turned to him, and laid a calming hand on his shoulder.  “Why don’t you wear another pair?”

“Those are the ones that go with this suit.”  Oliver was very particular about what he wore.  

Stifling a sigh, you said, “We have time.  We can stop by a store on the way.”

Nodding, he leaned over to give you a chaste kiss on the forehead.  “You always know just how to calm me down.  I’ll just grab my speech, and then we’ll be ready to go.

You nodded, watching him head toward his office. Walking over to your closet, you pulled out the navy bolero, swirling it around and slipping your arms inside. Pulling it over your shoulders and adjusting it, you turned to the full length mirror in the corner, turning this way and that, so that you could assess yourself from every angle.  Satisfied, you walked to the door, and turned out the light.

Oliver had been smart to suggest the jacket.  It covered the bruises perfectly.

***

Unfortunately, most of the jewelry shops were closed.  You could sense Oliver becoming increasingly agitated as you continued to drive past shops with “Closed” signs hanging in the doorways.  Thinking fast, you said, “There’s that little antique shop at the corner; should we check in there?”

Nodding brusquely, he pulled over.  Handing you his wallet, he gestured for you to go inside.  “I have to make a quick phone call; would you mind?”

“Of course not, you murmured.  Once inside, you made a beeline for the counter.

“May I help you?” the kindly old clerk asked.  

“Do you carry cuff-links?’

“We certainly do!”  He gestured toward the glass case.  “All on the top row; we don’t have too many pairs, but the ones that we do are all fine.”

You glanced over them, trying to decide what Oliver would like best, when your gaze seemed to be drawn to a silver-rimmed onyx pair in the corner.  For the first time all day, you smiled.  

***

The cuff-links lay warm and heavy in your palm as you trotted back to the car.  Oliver detested being late.  It was one of his virtues.  After opening your door, and sliding inside, you held them out to him.

“They didn’t have a box?” he inquired, eyeing them in slight distaste.  Oliver was decidedly fastidious.  

You shook your head.  “I told them to forego it. I didn’t want to waste any more of your time.”

Mollified, he took them, and quickly affixed them to his cuffs.  “Well…at least they match my suit.”

Nodding, you glanced over his black suit and shirt, with silver tie. “You look perfect.”

He smiled, pleased.  Starting the vehicle, he maneuvered back into the street, filling the car with the sound of his jaunty whistle.

***

The night was long and tiring, but you did your best to sparkle, for Oliver’s sake.  You thought that you were doing well, but during dinner, he leaned over, his arm on the back of your seat, his mouth close to your ear.  “Talk less.  Smile more.  No one here really cares about your thoughts on the THAAD impasse; they’re just being polite.  Not everything has to be about you, do you understand?”

To anyone looking at the two of you, it would have seemed as if he were whispering the softest sweetness into your ear.

Wordlessly, you nodded, picking up your glass of water, and drinking to hide your discomfiture.  

He gripped the back of your neck, and squeezed.  It probably looked as if he were trying to help you relax tense muscles.  

You would have fresh bruises there, the next day.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, as you tried your best to be the silent, and smiling supporter.  You must have done well, because he gave you a genuine kiss before you got into the car.  It was hopelessly sweet and gentle, and it made your heart feel as if it were bleeding.

Upon returning home you wanted nothing more than to slump against the door as you slid the uncomfortable heels from your feet, but Oliver didn’t care for bad posture.  So, you gracefully sat on the ottoman that he had purchased just for the purpose, back ballerina straight, as you reached down to remove your shoes, wincing as you saw the blisters on your toes, and heels.  You didn’t particularly care for stilettos, but Oliver thought that they lengthened your legs, which were actually rather stubby, so you wore them.

He strode past, heading toward the bedroom after quickly slipping off his oxfords, and placing them neatly in the cubby by the door.  A place for everything, and everything in its place.  

You were just getting up to look for some band aids to place over your blisters when you heard a muttered curse.  Quickly walking to the bedroom, you saw Oliver standing by the bureau, holding his hand, and staring at his palm.  Walking over, you reached out a hand to take his.

Hissing, he swiftly withdrew, before you could touch him, but not before you saw what looked like flowery little symbols imprinted in red on his palm.

“What happened?” you asked gently.

“Those stupid cuff-links burned me!”

Noticing the cuff-links on the floor, you had already reached for them, gathering them even as he answered your question.  You frowned before you remembered that you were so much prettier when you smiled, and quickly smoothed your expression to a more placid one.  The cuff-links lay in your palm, just as warm and heavy as ever, but they could hardly be described as hot.  Looking closer, you saw that, what you had mistaken for flowers on his palm were actually letters in relief on the onyx of the cuff-links.  A “C”, and a “Y”.  

Not wanting to draw Oliver’s attention to this, lest he chastise you for purchasing monogrammed cuff-links with initials that weren’t his, you walked to the dresser, and deftly dropped them into his jewelry organizer.  “Should I get you some ice?”

“No, I’d rather just stand here, and suffer,” he snapped.

Nodding, you left the room to procure a bag of ice, and some painkillers. Thankfully, any sort of analgesic medication usually put Oliver straight to sleep.  Fortunately, tonight was no exception, and you slipped into bed as soon as you heard his light snores.  Examining him as he slept, you reached out to reached out to sketch your fingertips over his face.  He always looked so angelic when he slept, with thick black eyelashes that cast dark shadows on his soft cheeks.  The mouth that was so firm while awake, had softened in sleep, looking sweet, and pink, and pouty.  You had kissed that mouth countless times–had wanted to devote your life to kissing it countless more.

Sighing, you closed your eyes.  The normally cold atmosphere of the house–you couldn’t call it a home–was unusually comfortable, despite Oliver’s petulance over having been “burned” by the cuff-links.  Yawning, you began to drift off to sleep.  It had probably been an allergic reaction to the cleaning solution the shop had used.  You’d clean them the next day.

***

He came to sit beside you as you watched the cheerful twinkling of the sun on the surface of the lake.  Though you didn’t acknowledge him, you knew that he was there, could sense him curiously examining you.  The day was peaceful and warm, though a cool breeze tickled by, ruffling your hair, the strands floating weightlessly in his direction as he considered you, his gaze as open and innocent as a child’s.  You turned to meet his gaze and you–

***

Waking up all at once, you listened carefully before opening your eyes.  The still, easy silence told you that Oliver had already gone to work.  You sighed in relief, and opened your eyes, wondering why Oliver hadn’t awakened you, as you usually awoke early, to help him prepare for work before you started readying yourself for your job.  Oliver was very fastidious, and to rise to the level of his expectations required a lot of maintenance.  

Going about your morning routine, you forgot all about the cuff-links until you were running out the door.  Chastising yourself under your breath, you doubled back, grabbing them, and slipping them into your pocket to clean while you were at work.  He probably wouldn’t need them again today and so–you hoped– wouldn’t miss them before you could slip them back into his jewelry box.  

The cuff-links were warm in your pocket, as you went about your day.  They had felt especially warm while you were carefully washing them, and you idly wondered if it were possible for a metal to be exothermic.  You smiled.  There was a fun word for your students.

Upon arriving back to the house, you paused after opening the door, feeling the cold, unfriendly atmosphere rolling out of the building like fog. Unconsciously, you put your hand in your pocket, calming your nerves by toying with the cuff-links.  Stepping inside, you saw Oliver sitting on the loveseat, facing the door.  Waiting for you.  “Good Afternoon, Oliver.  You’re home early, for a Friday.  What a pleasant surprise.”

“Is it?” he inquired neutrally.  “Remind me again, what time do you get off?”

“5:30.”

“What time is it, now?”

“6:45.”

“Indeed.”  His voice was soft.  “Where have you been?”

“I made groceries, for dinner.”

“Did you, now?”

You nodded uncertainly, trying to hide your involuntary nervous swallow.

He paused, letting the silence draw out, until you were internally screaming.  Then, with a flash of a smile, he stood, sauntering over to you, and lifting your chin with his forefinger.  “So, what’s for dinner?”

You were careful not to let the relief show in your eyes.  

***

Oliver mostly stayed out of the kitchen while you were cooking, a reprieve that cemented your already abundant love for the task.  He didn’t like to smell like food.

Your mind wandered as you chopped and julienned, sliced and grilled.  The sound of his voice returned you quickly to reality.  You bit your lip, realizing that you hadn’t heard what he had said, and were either going to have to bluff your way through it, or ask him to repeat himself.

Oliver hated to repeat himself.

“I’m…I’m sorry?”  You put down the knife, not wanting to give him any excuse to start an argument, by saying that you were being threatening.  Your shoulder gave a phantom throb as your mind took you back to that particular lesson.  The pain from the dislocation itself hadn’t been as bad as the sound.  Like the deboning of a particularly large chicken.

“Where’s your head?” he asked in mild irritation.  “I said, we have to visit my boss’s house this Sunday.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, though his tone was anything but pleased.  “Please try to wear something suitable this time.”  

The last time, you had worn a camisole with an oversized cardigan that had turned out to be entirely too large when it slipped off your shoulder, exposing the livid bruises that danced up and down your arms.  

His boss’s wife had just shivered in disgust, and looked away, changing the subject to her daughter’s last promotion.   Oliver had been so embarrassed.  He said that you had done it on purpose, to sabotage his job.  Once you both had returned to the house, he had railed for half the night, saying that you were trying to get him sent back, that you didn’t really want to see him advance, that you were broken–constantly in need of attention.  

You had had to call out of school for three days.  

Fortunately, Oliver was careful.  He never broke any bones.  

“What would you like for me to wear?” you queried.

“Do I have to make every decision for you?”  His tone was sharp, but his expression betrayed his pleasure.  

You looked down.  “You just…you just know what suits me best.  You know me better than anyone.”

He crossed his arms, satisfaction lacing his tone as he leaned against the entryway.  “Wear the lavender dress.  It hides your hips.”

You nodded.  “Alright.”

“How long until dinner?”

“Twenty minutes.”

He fell silent once more, but didn’t leave.  “Where are those cuff-links I bought?”

Your stomach flipped.  Reaching into your pocket, you removed the cuff-links, holding the jewelry out to him, watching as the pieces glinted in your palm.  “I…washed them.  I figured that maybe that was a chemical burn last night.  Maybe your skin had an adverse reaction to the cleaning solution that the shopkeeper used to polish them.”

Oliver made no move to take them from you.  “Why didn’t you put them back in the box?”

“I didn’t have a chance to wash them before I left, so I took them to work, and when I came home  I…I wanted to get started on your dinner as soon as possible.

He turned to the side, indicating that you should walk by him.  “Well?  What’s stopping you, now?”

You kept your face completely neutral as you slowly approached him.  The entry way wasn’t large enough for you to pass without having to brush him, but you were loathe to do so, afraid of what he might say. Reaching him, you looked up, your pulse fluttering visibly.  

“Well?” he asked, a little more sharply.  “Don’t be so dramatic.  I’m not going to eat you!”

Slipping by him, you walked to the bedroom, but as you entered, you accidentally hit the door just wrong, and it slammed against the wall.  You froze, every sense on high alert.  Then you heard it.  The quick, angry slap of his bare feet on the wooden floor, of his nearing footsteps.  Without thinking you turned, and backed up, clutching the cuff-links as if they were lifeline.  

You could see his face, now.  See the hard, angry line of his mouth, the roiling, bitter grey of his eyes, the harsh clench of his jaw.  Your bladder wanted to release, and your legs itched to turn tail and run, but you didn’t.  Before he could reach you, however, he tripped, falling gracelessly, reaching his hands to catch himself as he went from vertical to horizontal.

There was a sharp crack as Oliver hit the floor, then silence.  Then, he began to scream.

***

The doctor said that it had been fortunate that the fractures had been so clean.  Relatively speaking.  A compound fracture was never really clean, per se, but at least Oliver’s radius and ulna had only fractured in one spot.  

***

Because Oliver’s arm couldn’t risk being bumped, you moved into the guest room.  The air was a lot lighter, here, and there was a distinct temperature difference, as well.  This room was so much warmer, cosier, more inviting.  Or maybe that was just your imagination.  Maybe it was just because you had that much more time to relax, without the constant strain of endeavoured perfection.  It was unfortunate that he had hurt his dominant arm, you supposed, but without the use of it, you could breathe a bit easier.

Meanwhile, according to Oliver the temperature in the master bedroom was chilling. You could see his breath every time you walked in, but it just felt normal to you.  You turned up his thermostat, but it didn’t seem to help, so you told him that you would call the HVAC guy on Monday.

Finally climbing into bed after hours of tending to him, you breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to every single researcher who had been involved in the making of whatever cocktail of painkillers the doctor had given him.  They had put him to sleep within 20 glorious minutes.

Rolling on your back, you spread out, moving your arms in legs in an imaginary snow angel.  It was magnificent to be able to finally stretch your limbs, to not have to curl into a small ball, and sleep on the edge, for fear of bumping Oliver and waking him in the night.  You stared at the ceiling, thinking about what you should do with all of this precious rare alone time.  Remembering a website that uploaded trashy paranormal romance novels, you grabbed your phone to look it up, excited to spend the night reading.

You were asleep within minutes.

***

He idly strummed a guitar as he looked at you softly, his soft brown eyes twinkling with affection.  Reaching up, you brushed his thick, straight black hair out of his eyes.  With a puppyish grin, he put the guitar to the side, and flopped down with his head in your lap.  His hair was soft against your fingers as you buried a hand in the luxurious mass, gently stroking his scalp.  His eyes closed, and he dimpled in a contented smile, as you–

***

Opening your eyes, you heard Oliver noisily banging about in the kitchen.  Realizing that he wasn’t so much trying to make himself breakfast as alert you to his needing breakfast, you arose with a soft sigh.  You padded into the kitchen.  “How are you feeling?”

“My arm is broken.  How do you think I feel?”

“Have you taken your medicine, yet?”

“No. I have to take it with food, remember?”

“I’ll make you something to eat, and give you your medicine.  Please rest.”

Huffing, he stalked out of the kitchen.

Cooking quickly, you brought the food to the dining table, and set it up just as he liked.  Oliver loved a well-appointed table.  You found him in his office, working on an upcoming presentation.  “Oliver, breakfast is ready.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Alright.”

You grabbed his medicine, and sat down to wait for him.  And wait.  And wait.  You watched the steam slowly stop rising from the dishes, watched the condensation gather and drip down the glasses, watched the ice slowly melt in them.  With a sigh, you went back to his office.  “Oliver? Everything has gone cold, so I’m just going to reheat it, alright?”

“That’s fine!” he snapped.  

You were backing up to leave, when he turned.

“You know, you don’t have to tell me every little decision you make.  Can’t you think for yourself?  Why do I have to co-sign on your reheating breakfast?”

Because any time I made a decision without your approval I’m punished, you thought.  Because you’re not satisfied with anything that I do, even if it was something that you’ve previously agreed with in the past.  

But you said none of those things.  You had long learned to never try to defend yourself.  So, you just looked at the floor.  “I’m sorry.”  

“Yeah, I’m sorry, too.  Sorry that I got stuck with someone as useless as you.  Why did you even follow me here?”

You swallowed, but remained silent, remembering how he had begged you to come, citing how romantic it would be to run away together and forge a new life in a whole new country.  

Oliver stood, slowly stalking toward you, when suddenly there was a loud pop.  Sparks flew from his modem, as his screen went black.

“No!  No, no, no, no, NO!” he chanted, abandoning you in favour of running to his smoking computer.  “What the hell is this?”

Suddenly you heard a soft, sharp snicking noise and a quick intake of breath, and Oliver stumbled backward, the blood draining from his face.  Peering over his shoulder, you saw what had frightened him so.  His monitor was cracking, repeatedly, the cracks looking as if they were caused by something very sharp pushing its way out of the computer, almost like a razor-sharp stamp.  You watched as the cracks continued to appear across the screen, one after the other, steadily, like a metronome.  The cracks formed a word, repeatedly stamping across the screen, with no sign of ending before the bottom of the monitor was reached.  

STOP.

Author’s Note:  The rest of the chapters of this finished fic can be found on my Mistresslist.  If you want to follow me, then please do so at my main blog @vampwrrr, as I always update there, first.

[shogetsus]

Stripes of Auburn, Eye of Sapphire

16. Mai

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Summary: Their eyes meet, Masamune's soft smirk drawing her to him in a somewhat spellbinding way, prompting an endearing smile of her own and a small blush to creep up her cheeks. Honestly, how does he manage to turn her insides into mush with just one look, one word, one smile? Probably she may never know.

Either way, she really likes it. And more so, she likes him.

Mai

She wakes up with a languid stretch, the sun high in the sky and reaching the entirety of her futon, deeming it already afternoon. After a blink, she notices she’s lying in her futon. “Huh? My cheek kinda hurts…”

How did she get there, actually? To her dismay, last night seems to be a blur—and it’s never a good thing when that happens, growing somewhat anxious. Scanning around the room, her eyes fall upon a decorative sword sitting in one of the alcoves. In fact, she didn’t notice that was there before. She worries her lower lip; all of a sudden, swords seem kind of…

“If you want to live, drop your weapons and go back to your farms now. As for everyone else, make one move and you die…”

Not as cool as she once had thought after seeing them used to hurt people.

“You can’t order me around!”

… And even less so when they’re used against me.

A cold shiver runs down her spine, almost feeling Yoshitoshi’s blade about to hit her, trembling despite being currently safe in the confines of her room. How heartless can these so-called ‘lords’ be? Or worse, how can these struggles seem to go down to whoever’s the strongest or the richest in the lands?

In all honesty, she can’t bring herself to believe she was the one to confront the daimyo in the first place—the picture that pulls out in her mind of the events feeling like happening to another person entirely. Despite loathing people like Yoshitoshi, she knows she’s not that brave as to make such a scene, much less so as strong. What would she have done if Masamune hadn’t been there to help? Would she have died without ever making it back home?

It seems to be a proper time to stop treating the place as the setting of a cutesy historical movie, or she’s going to get killed for sure. What should I do? Do I learn to fight and become like Masamune? She suspects Nobunaga has indirectly been encouraging her to go down that road, with the gift he gave her.

The only thing I ever wanted to be was a fashion designer, stay out of trouble and spend my days with only needles as the sharpest objects around me. Do I really have to kill to survive now?

No matter how hard she tries, Mai can’t truly picture herself solving her problems the same way as the people from that past time seem to do. From how she sees it, branding a sword takes courage, determination—many perks she definitely doesn’t have.

On one hand, she could stay cooped up in her room, hiding from the world for the remaining five months. But if she’s going to do that, it’s clear she should’ve just taken up Nobunaga’s offer to do princess-like activities. “Playing Hanafuda and having drinks and treats for five months doesn’t sound so bad, though…”

Just then, she spots a letter left by her pillow—next to her war fan, another weapon, of all things. Apparently, it looks like it’s from Masamune; each stroke of the brush looking like it’d been done at the speed he liked to ride.

“You did well last night, enduring two long rides and the confrontation in the hall. I have nothing but praise for the way you leaped on the enemy commander with just a war fan during your first battle. And the daring way you conked out on my horse last night.” The last line certainly fills it in, and it’s been obviously Masamune who brought her back to her room.

The previous night’s events slowly come back to her, first recalling how comfortably she’d been atop his horse—how comfy she’d ended up being with him. The memory of Masamune playfully nuzzling her hair eases her gloomy mood a little, a fleeting smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

At the bottom of the letter, Mai spots one last line, added as an afterthought. “P.S. Make sure you get some food in you when you wake up.”

Her smile widens at that. “I suppose he’s not too bad after all…” The mention of food makes her stomach growl in protest, “Wow, I really am hungry!” To be fair, that’s probably where all those dark thoughts are coming from. “No, I’m definitely not staying put. As for what I will do, I’ll figure that out after breakfast,”

With her head clearer, she gets out of bed, eagerly reading herself for work.

Like yesterday and after taking a quick breakfast, she’s once again called to the audience chamber for a meeting. Mitsuhide’s there as well, greeting her with one of his sly smirks.

“I heard you did commendable work last night.” Nobunaga begins with a polite nod, “Now that the Princess has arrived, Hideyoshi, you may report on last night.”

“Yes, my Lord,” At the cue, Hideyoshi comes to a stand, facing the rest of the attendees. “The traitor, Yoshitoshi, showed some resistance, but Masamune successfully incited his forces to break up. We defeated them without unnecessary loss on either side, and captured the former daimyo.”

Nobunaga turns to Masamune with an approving look crossing his crimson gaze. “Excellent work, Masamune. I’m placing his territory under your control,” He decides, “Maintain it well to prevent further discord.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do.” Masamune’s confidence doesn’t falter in the slightest. So, now that region becomes part of Masamune’s fief? That’s interesting. “Oh, but you really should reward the star of the night.”

A squeak leaves her as Masamune directs everyone’s attention to her. “What? You’re not talking about me, right?”

Masamune’s chest seems to puff out proudly, “With only a war fan and no thought to her own safety, Mai tackled Yoshitoshi to the ground and then knocked him out to keep him from fleeing.” He explains the course of events from his point of view, prompting her to drop her eyes shyly at all the guys staring at her in apparent awe.

“Huh? With a war fan? I didn’t hear that part. Where did you get that, Mai?” Hideyoshi wonders, sounding curious.

“From my personal collection,” Nobunaga replies with no hesitation, somewhat smug about it—regarding why, Mai hasn’t the slightest idea. “I’d wanted to see what she could do with it.”

Not looking forward to spurring the praises further, she tries excusing herself. “Either way, it was the spur of the moment. And knocking him out is probably not how I’d describe it.” Her brows knit into a frown, “I wasn’t truly thinking straight and just hit him in the head, there’s not much more to look into it…”

Mitsuhide brings a hand to his chest in a shocking manner. “What a gallant act of bravery!”

“I’m impressed!” Mitsunari pulls one of his bright smiles, looking like the picture of amazement, “Though I’m mostly happy to hear you’re safe.”

“As I’d foreseen, you are a most entertaining woman! For now, I shall reward you with its pair,” With a flourish, Nobunaga produces a gunsen from his kimono, said one with opposite patterns of the war fan she currently has; the colors resembling dawn and dusk respectively. Turning it around with practiced ease, he offers the fan to her. “Continue proving yourself to me, and I shall think of more fitting rewards for you.”

Her eyes go wide at the display of another war fan, feeling reluctant to accept such a thing. Truth is, she’s surrounded by veteran combatants, and being rewarded with a weapon from one, of all things, is surely a very big deal, no matter how she looks at it. Although on another note, it must be way more impolite to not accept it, and after the way Masamune described her actions, she can’t blame their surprise.

“Um, thank you, my Lord,” Mai bows deeply before taking the offered fan, the weight and feeling of it almost the same to its pair. I get a reward for not dying! That’s a first.

Hideyoshi clears his throat to recall the attention of his associates. “I have one more thing to report, Lord Nobunaga.” Before continuing, he exchanges a look with Mitsuhide, appearing to communicate something between them with their eyes only. “When the traitor was asked for the reason of his revolt, he answered this: Shingen Takeda and Kenshin Uesugi are alive.” 

Mai guesses he doesn’t need to report all the jaws in the room dropping at that. However, her breath hitches all in a sudden, not daring to even blink when Mitsuhide shoots a fleeting look her way—his intense gaze seeming to look into her very soul.

He knows. Oh, dear, he totally knows…

Those sly golden eyes linger on hers for more than strictly necessary before turning to his Lord. “I paid a visit to the dungeons on my way over, and can confirm those are his claims,” Mitsuhide says flatly, not a single feature in his otherwise ever the scheming face giving away his true thoughts on the matter, “He was rather adamant about it. That makes it three in a week…”

She’s not sure what he means by ‘three’, but the comment seems to prompt Nobunaga’s curiosity, quirking a brow at his right-hand man, lips twisting into a smile. “So, you’re insinuating those two managed to stave off death, is that it? Very interesting…”

“They could still be grim rumors, my Lord,” Hideyoshi remains skeptical, “I’m not sure whether to believe the claims of a traitor that easily,”

“You have a fair point, Hideyoshi,” Nobunaga procures another fan—this time a decorative one—snapping it open, appearing to ponder deeply about the situation. A minute later, he comes to a decision, “We don’t have enough information to confirm these statements or declare war yet. Ieyasu, drop your investigation with Mitsunari and join Mitsuhide in gathering every scrap of intelligence you can.”

Ieyasu’s face is iron, barely containing a certain fury hidden within his emerald gaze. “If the Tiger of Kai truly lives, you’ll be the first one to know, my Lord.”

“I trust you would. As for the rest: Masamune, you have the fastest scouts among us. Send them to the borders and see what they can find. Hideyoshi and Mitsunari shall provide you with assistance.”  

“I’m sorry. What?”

All heads—but mainly Mai’s—turn to Masamune at that, his sapphire eye sharp as steel, face deadly serious. She can practically feel the tension falling upon them all.

What in hells is he doing?

Still, he seems unwilling to agree just yet. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Nobunaga, but are you truly asking my troops to pursue the dead instead of helping the living?” Masamune tilts his head skeptically, “The bastard Yoshitoshi left his domains in complete shambles. I’ve got to act now before his people die of starvation. Sparing my troops to assist in what clearly looks like a goose chase isn’t helping any of us.”

Lord of the Castle and northern ally lock eyes upon one another, engaging in a battle of wills. For a split moment, Hideyoshi appears to struggle to produce a word, but to no avail, left only to stare wide-eyed at a firm Masamune. Mai’s heart pounds wildly—worse than before under Mitsuhide’s scrutiny—not looking forward in the slightest to witness a confrontation between such powerful daimyo, feeling pretty much like an awful third wheel.

However, to what it looks like everyone’s shock, the one breaking the tense silence is no other than Mitsunari. “If I may, my Lords, Lord Masamune is correct and already has a more vital task ahead of him. Can I suggest for him to provide us with his reserves for this?” His angelic face is the very picture of diplomacy as he takes on both situations to deal with, “I believe with a small number of the Date’s experienced scouts at the lead, Lord Hideyoshi’s can fill it in with ease.”

“My reserves are stationed to strengthen the Castle’s defenses, Mitsunari.” While Masamune sounds slightly more lenient to the young strategist’s suggestion, he can’t seem to help to point out what appears to be something obvious to all of them.

“And that is not to mention the culprit behind the Honno-ji incident remains to be found,” Mitsuhide adds, “While I am close to making a breakthrough, it’s still unwise to leave Azuchi’s defenses unattended at these dire times…”

“True. Nonetheless, there is still a way,” Oddly so, Ieyasu looks like struggling not to stammer when Mitsunari turns to him, “Perhaps Lord Ieyasu’s troops can cover for them in the meantime?”

“Oh, ah,” Definitely caught by surprise, Ieyasu blinks a couple of times before replying, “I can do that, sure… if Nobunaga approves,”  

With so many enemies and issues to tend to, Mai doesn’t wonder why Nobunaga takes as long as he does to speak his mind—the blow of his fan he flickers it across his face, the only sound in the room for a while. In the end, he finally accepts with an acquiescing nod. “What say you, Masamune?” Still, his crimson gaze returns to his ally, nearly scrutinizing him.

In Mai’s opinion and after the group’s willingness to work together, it doesn’t leave much room for Masamune to disagree. And when his mouth curls into one of his easygoing smiles, she can anticipate his reply before he voices it.

“In that case, yeah, I can work with that.”

The very tense meeting finally comes to an end, and after breaking up, Nobunaga assigns Mai with sorting all this correspondence. Admittedly so, it’s a light job after the former ruckus from last night and the stressing afternoon everyone went through.

Quite thankful for having the chance of taking it easy for the day, it sadly leaves space for her mind to roam and her thoughts to scramble. Should she say something about Shingen and Kenshin being alive? And what was Masamune even thinking when he pulled such a scene with Nobunaga? To her frustration—and fear—most of the scenarios she tries to brace herself for appear to be direr than the other, all practically leading to more wars and confrontations.

What the hell should I do about this? Ugh, Sasuke, where are you when I need you the most?

Feeling lost for any advice, her thoughts drift to the closest one Mai has to a confidante in that time period, next to her time traveler, astrophysicist and ninja friend. Not knowing what else to do and with anxiety creeping up to once again threaten to take the best of her, she uses her break to pay a visit to Masamune. In truth, she either liked how hectic things got the last night, and perhaps a small talk could help to clear the air between them.

His retainer, Kojuro, meets her with a genuine smile at the entrance of Masamune’s manor. “Welcome back, my Lady. It’s very good to see you rested and safe.”

His cordial manners help with putting her racing mind at ease, if slightly. “Thank you, Kojuro.” She says, meaning it in many ways, “I wanted to let you know how grateful I am for you looking after me last night. It was very thoughtful of you.” Then, she bows to the waist as a show of her true appreciation.

“Please, Princess, I was just doing my job.” The Date retainer flusters at that, dark blue eyes crinkling, looking unsure of what to do with her display of respect, “I wouldn’t like you to bow before a lowly man like myself.”

That only makes her find him quite humble indeed. “In that case, I am grateful not as a Princess, but Azuchi Castle’s chatelaine. Would you take that?” She persuades him a little, flashing a charming smile his way.

Kojuro returns it with a sheepish one, “If it gets you to stop, then yes.” Both chuckle together before he eagerly leads her into the manor. “Lord Masamune, Lady Mai is here to see you.” He wastes no time announcing her to his lord.

They find him sitting at his desk, looking like writing away with that fast hand of his. “Mai, hello. Sorry, but I’m a little busy right now.” He perks up, shooting an apologetic smile, “You don’t need to leave though, just wait right there,” Apparently so, it’s bad timing on her part.

Taking a cushion in front of his desk, she sits down quietly, not wanting to disturb him. Although it doesn’t take long before curiosity finally gets to her. “What are you writing?”

“A letter to my cousin, who’s currently taking care of my fief,” He says, brush not stopping its fast pacing.  

“Huh? You have a cousin?”

“Yeah, a brat called Shigezane. He currently has Nihomatsu Castle to himself but is overseeing the construction of Aoba while I’m here.” An endearing crinkle pulls at his eye, seeming to hold him in high regards despite the casual way he mentions him, “I want him to set arrangements for distributing rice from Oshu’s refilling grain storage to Yoshitoshi’s former territory.”

A mix of concern and indignation washes over her. “So, you weren’t bluffing this morning. Are they truly that bad?”

“Yes, they are. The bastard stole all the grain and sold it to buy equipment.” He scoffs, “I’ve only seen it this bad in places that were experiencing a famine.”

Just then, Mai recalls taking a glimpse of Oshu’s former—or rather current as of then—size when reading her guidebook. And he rules all that land on his own, which is already as impressive as it is, but even so, he doesn’t flinch at the idea of bringing in more people to his care.

The thought makes her thoughtful. He’s smart and kind, not just a pretty face. And he’s got a very pretty face. “On a brighter side, it sounds like they’ve got a good ruler in you now…”

“I’m going to make sure they don’t starve, at least. No one deserves that.” Masamune speaks enthusiastically, but unlike last night it’s a warm excitement.

A breeze from outside sweeps through the room, rustling his chestnut mane as he keeps writing. He really is gorgeous. Not a flawless, model-like beauty like Mitsunari is, but he does have a very rugged, sweep-you-away look. Not to mention the eyepatch—which he most likely doesn’t wear for fashion, making her wonder, whatever happened to his eye, really?

As she sits there pretty much daydreaming about him, Masamune suddenly sets his brush down. “And done. So, what did you need?”

She’s quick in shaking off her imprudent thoughts, “Right. Well, about last night…”

A teasing smile curls at the corners of his mouth, somewhat rendering her lost for words. “Last night, huh? You wanted to continue where we left off?” Her eyes treacherously linger on that alluring quirk of his lips. He must be doing that on purpose. “You did fall asleep on my horse. Guess you were pretty comfortable there,”

“What? No, I didn’t come here for that—“ Even when she positively finds him incredibly attractive right then and her stomach flutters at the innuendo, she has an actual reason for going to his manor.

His smile grows, making her realize she’s falling into step with his playful flirting again. “I got it in one, didn’t I?”

“No. Absolutely not,” She tries to maintain some defiance, despite knowing she’s partially lying about it. “The reason I fell asleep on your horse is because we were out of danger and I was finally able to relax.”

“You were able to relax around me? Hmm, maybe I’m losing my touch.”

Gah! How can he make everything sound so enticing? I mean—uh-oh…

Masamune comes around his desk and sits before her, his gorgeous eye fixing on her face. He drops a strong hand on her shoulder, sending a funny jolt through her, and she has to gulp at that. “A-as I was trying to say, last night’s battle got me thinking about things.”

That makes him tilt his head, curious and concerned altogether, “I thought something might’ve gotten to you. I was sure it was exhaustion.”

Part of what got me was you. But she doesn’t dare to mention that. “In fact, I’ve been wondering a lot about how people in this time lives.” Instead, she turns serious for once, “I told you before, and there’s no war where I come from—no swordfights or battles. Honestly, it’s really hard for me to understand how all of you tolerate all these endless confrontations so naturally. How do you do it?”

“I see.” He bites his lower lip, pondering about what she said, “I think I’ve got what you need. Are you free for the day?”  

“Yeah. What are you thinking about?”

“We might take in some more of the sights in town,” He puts on what seems his most convincing face, “Last time we just visited the markets, but there’s so much more to see of Azuchi,”

Sights as in plural? “Uh-huh. And how many sights are we talking about?”

An impish smile tugs at his ever-appealing lips, “Well, you’re the one from 500 years in the future. What about 500 stops to show you what life in our time is truly like?”

Wait, what? He can’t be serious, right?

All in a sudden, Masamune picks her up in his arms and rises with her, anything but nonchalant. “Um, are you intending to carry me all along the way? I can walk…”

“I know, kitten. But I just can’t have you relaxing too much around me,” He whistles while carrying her out of his room, too late for regrets.

Despite claiming about not looking forward to it, Mai can’t help but wonder how Masamune even manages to put her at ease every single time they hang out together. Carrying her to the gates, she has to give up on her hand once again as he eagerly leads her through the streets of Azuchi town, this time joined by a very excited Shogetsu after figuring out it’d be a nice time to take the kit to a walk as well.

To be honest, she doesn’t mind in the slightest, their stroll pretty much feeling like a date. First, he takes her to the markets to look at fabrics the tailors are offering, the bare sight of so many incredible silks in display almost making her dizzy with amazement. Inspiration strikes her right away, her eyes setting on a roll of gorgeous deep blue fabric, dyed ever so carefully it takes her breath away. Nonetheless, by the time she considers purchasing it, Masamune’s already dragging her away, breaking into pursuing a certain imprudent kit.

Surprisingly so, she’d somewhat be upset at getting pulled and dragged around that way. But the eagerness in which Masamune seems to want her to take on as many sights Azuchi can offer makes it incredibly endearing to her eyes, her heart feeling like melting at his thoughtfulness.

Not long after, they find Shogetsu at the riverside, round belly up and playing with a pair of children, making the two of them chuckle wholeheartedly. Apparently struck with an idea, Masamune leaves her there for a moment, returning quickly with sweets purchased in a nearby store.

Both take a seat on the grass, basking in the beautiful landscape before them. “So, how did you even got Shogetsu?” Mai makes casual conversation, taking her time with her dango.

“Well, it was Kojuro who found him,” His eye follows the tiger cub as he bounces around, pawing playfully at one of the children, “He was wailing next to his wounded mother. Seemed to be the only one of his pack who stood behind,”

“Oh, poor thing! When was that, though? He still is a cub,”  

“The night you appeared, actually,” He turns thoughtful for a moment, “We were taking a detour through the forest to get to Honno-ji and stumbled upon the little guy. I handed him to Kojuro and procured he’d be brought to Azuchi with us,”

The picture of Masamune’s retainer struggling to grab such a squirming kit like Shogetsu makes her laugh. The poor man seems to always be taking on the most tiring tasks, from the little she knows of it. “Seems you have a penchant for sweeping kittens off their feet…”

Soon, a pained groan leaves her, realizing she just fell for his silly teasing and accidentally called herself a kitten. “Ha! Maybe I do,” Masamune grins wickedly at that, wagging his eyebrows, “I wasn’t about to leave him there to tend for himself either way…”

To some extent, she gets the feeling for that being something he’d do, “And why the name? You seem to be kind of fixated on a moon theme, if you ask me,” She gives him a once-over look as if to prove her point.

He chews on his dango before replying, “You really can’t tell? Haven’t you seen how the moon was that night?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, Mai gives him a somewhat apologetic smile. “To be honest, I was too stressed trying to find my way around to stop and appreciate the sight.”

“That’s too bad. You missed one hell of a blood moon.” He points out, “My guys were just as spooked as you did, that night.”

“Huh? A blood moon?” She tilts her head back confusedly. What is he even talking about?

“Ah, that’s right, future girl.” He seems to recall just then, “Well, it’s said around here witnessing a blood moon—or a moon shrouded in red—bears an ill omen of some sorts. I wasn’t up to name the kit after that, though, so Shogetsu just stuck.”

The comment makes her quirk a brow, growing skeptical. To be fair, she’s vaguely heard of that, but had no idea people believed said things that far back in time. “And I suppose you don’t go by such tales?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I do respect them. But I’d rather follow my hunch than mysterious stories,” Masamune says with honesty, turning his gaze to the river and his cub, “And that night my hunch told me something interesting was bound to happen. Turns out, in my opinion, my hunch was right.”

Their eyes meet, his soft smirk drawing her to him in a somewhat spellbinding way, prompting an endearing smile of her own and a small blush to creep up her cheeks. Honestly, how does he manage to turn her insides into mush with just one look, one word, one smile? Probably she may never know.

Either way, she really likes it. And more so, she likes him.

“Well, can’t really argue about that…” 

As much as she’s aware she’s most certainly the only one taking on their outing as a date, she can’t remember having such a day like that in her life. And what a day! After their little picnic, they ended up playing with Shogetsu and the children—and damn, Masamune’s truly good with toddlers—took a languid garden stroll afterwards, and had dinner at a popular restaurant nearby.

By the time they’re on their way back to Azuchi Castle, she’s pretty sure she’d seen the whole city twice over. Reminiscing on it, Mai comes to the realization she’d been so focused on the injustice and struggles of the current time, she hadn’t really taken in the people, the things, the tranquil lifestyle, the incredible sights of Japan of the past.

“And that’s about it for Azuchi. Cities from 500 years ago aren’t so bad, are they?” By how smug and assured he sounds like, he already seems to know the answer to that.

“True. They’re not so bad at all,” And you, most of all, are not so bad either. “Thanks for the tour, Masamune. I had a very good time,”

He shrugs it off, “No need to thank me, kitten. I just do whatever I feel like.” That goes without question, but she smiles gratefully either way. Just then, he brushes a long finger across her cheek, almost making her smile falter with the affectionate touch coming rather out of the blue, her heart skipping a beat. “Come see me anytime. You’re always welcome,”

And with that, he finally lets go of her hand—he’d been holding her most of the day as he dragged her from place to place. She feels a rush of refreshing coolness on it, making her realize how hot her hand had been.

“See you around,” Flashing a lively smile her way, Masamune walks back the way they’d come.

She’s not sure for how long she stays watching his retreating figure, but what she’s certain of, is that she already misses his tender grip on her. To some extent, their date leaves her with an answer to the question that’s been swirling in her mind for the entire day—the layers of Masamune Date she slowly unveils leaving little room to argue about.

He’s a man after my own heart, isn’t he? Pah, way to go, Mai.

A fuzzy tail curling around her ankle pulls her out of her reverie. “Shogetsu? You still here?” The tiger cub casts a cutesy look up at her, yellow eyes big and kind of pouting—and quite getting onto her, not finding much resistance to that pleading look. Snorting in spite of herself, Mai pulls the cub into her arms, “You know what, you win this time…”

Shogetsu, the bright moon, makes justice to his name with his gaze, nuzzling tiredly against her chest and content with being carried inside the Castle. And Mai, on another hand, is just as content with having something from Masamune to keep her company, if only for a while longer.

Hanafuda: Playing cards of Japanese origin that are used to play a number of games. The name translates to "flower cards". The name also refers to games played with the cards. Daimyo: Honorific for a Japanese feudal lord. Dango: A Japanese dumpling and sweet made from mochiko (rice flour), related to mochi. 

And this is it for this year! I hope to find you wonderful people around in this upcoming year for more Maisamune shenanigans - but mostly SHOGETSU! :D 

[seleneshield]

A Fine Flame

@bow-tie-bartender

Selene laid curled up in bed amongst her silken sheets while her cat curled up near her head, still clinging to dreams of blue moon lit shores till a sinnful 10:00 AM as she always did on her first day off. When the sounds of her household downstairs and her hunger for the first meal of the day could no longer be ignored was when she finally conceded that it may be time to start the day. Stretching out like a cat from in front of a fireplace and shimmied round in bed till she could reach for the cord to ring for breakfast. By the time her steward Sebastian walked in with a tray covered in a delectable breakfast of eggs benedict with bacon, toast, strawberry jam, and a blessedly strong cup of Earl Gray tea Selene was propped up in bed with notebook and pen in hand, jotting down her plans for the day. Inhaling deeply the heavenly aromas as they intermingled she set her note book aside and prepared to enjoy her breakfast. “Thank you very much Sebastian!...Oh! Before you go, today I would love to have you with me while I go around town to collect special food items for a dinner I’ve arranged for tomorrow night at 7:00 PM. I’ll tell Mr. William Wellington all about it when I come down in a bit .”

The surprisingly sturdy and seemingly unflappable gentleman quirked his eyebrow at the simple request. “Of course I can accompany you on your errand today, but why do you need to go out to procure these food items? You know very well Mr. Wellington can call in an order for just about anything in town you desire and beyond if given enough time.” A delighted hum cut through the tail end of the steward’s sentence as his charge savored her first taste of pest hollandaise sauce, he really should have known by now not to ask questions before she had stared on her food. Swallowing and taking her first sip of hot tea she looked over apologetically at Sebastian, “Sorry...the reason I want to get these items is that my dinner date is a fire elemental, a one Mr. Ignatius, and I would like to familiarize myself with the things he eats that differ from me, specifically the wooden items today. He also eats a number of things we can both enjoy and I will most certainly be leaving that part of the menu in Mr. Wellington’s more than capable hands.” While dinner dates with any number of interesting guests were not an uncommon occurrence in the Dr. Shield home, one with a monster would certainly be a first. If the news of her dinner guest had any effect on the the steward one would never be able to tell as he merely nodded, “I see, very well Miss. I’ll call the main house and request a car come by and ask Miss Parker to be up to help you dress in a little while.” Smiling around a piece of jam covered toast Selene nodded back and classily mumbled out her thanks.

Finishing her food and leaving her tray on her sitting area coffee table Selene sauntered off to her bathroom to wash up and slip into a luxurious grapefruit blossom scented bath. It was just as she had started to inspect her fingers for wrinkles that her ladies attendant Miss Lucy Parker popped in to collect her bed cloths and underthings, “Good morning Miss! Mr. Redmayne said you and him were going out today to go shopping and that you were going to have gentleman over for dinner tomorrow. That will be fun! Do you know what you want to wear out today?” Watching the swift and darling girl quickly dart around efficiently from the comfort of her still warm water Selene smiled, “Is that really all Sebastian said? Ever the model of discretion that one. But yes Lucy, I met this charming fire elemental Grillby recently and today we’re going out so I can specially pick out the special parts of his meal for tomorrow! So with all that walking I think i’ll wear the navy blue dress with the drop waist and cream accents, my sensible dark kid heels, and navy cloche hat.” This bit of info actually gave the attendant pause as she drew closer to her employer, this being the juiciest bit of info the household had had in some time, “oh? An elemental you say? Where did you meet him if i may ask?” Twisting around in the water so as to better chat Selene folded her arms over the back of the bath and got in close as if to speak conspiratorially, “I met Grillby when another friend took me out to eat at the little tucked away Dinner he owns! He really is lovely Lucy and I really want this dinner to go well so i’m pulling out all the stops!” The young woman just laughed and stood up hugging the abandon garments she had collected, “do you ever not pull out all the stops miss?” At that she couldn’t help but chuckle, “Only when they’re terrible Lucy my dear!”

Dressed and ready to face the day Selene came down and headed straight for the kitchen where she found her brilliant Chef William Wellington battling valently with what seemed to be a particularly pesky pan stain. Leaning casually against the counter within his eyesight she smirked as she watched him practically growl in frustration and decided to take pity on him with a distraction, “Salutations William! My compliments to the chef this morning as always. I wanted to let you know that tomorrow night at 7:00 I invited a special dinner date with very special dietary considerations.” Looking away from his foe for now the tall bespectacled Chef looked up and straightened up to his full height of 6’5”, “Always great to hear Miss, you know you can count on me to make your dinner a grand one. What sort of dietary considerations does your date have?” Tapping her chin she thought of how to put it, “...well he’s an fire elemental sooo it would be best to serve him things that taste best when charred, like that amazing brussel sprout and bacon side dish you made last week! I’ll be going into town to pick out woods to cover one course his meal as well” The chef blinked for a moment, not expecting such an answer, but then slowly become contemplative. Selene bit her lip nervously and grip the counter to keep from fidgeting only to let out a sigh of relief when she saw her chef walk over to his notepad and begin writing away furiously. “Sooo is that a yes to you having this dinner well in hand?” A thumbs up was her only reply but that was all she needed, patting him on the back Selene when out into the front hall where Sebastian was waiting with her coat.

The car arrived and soon the two made their way down to Market Street, so aptly named for the number and wide variety of shops that line the sidewalks, from grocers and butchers to furniture and book stores. Requesting that the car wait at the end of a particular block Selene exited with a destination in mind and Sebastian following close behind. Her first stop was a smokehouse bbq establishment at the end of the street that had come well recommended by her father’s driver, if anyone human would know about what exotic woods that would have a ‘good taste’ she figured it would be them. Upon making her inquiry and getting some interesting looks, that she hoped only came from her and her companion being overdressed, she was lead to the back where she met a towering brick wall of a man named Henry who turned out to be very sweet. From Henry she learned Plum, Apricot, Nectarine, Almond, and Pear wood were all fairly fancy woods that could be used in cooking that each gave their own different and unique kind of flavor as well as Walnut, Lemon, Ash, and Olive wood. Selene took extensive notes on each kind of wood and its properties, so much so that she earned a raised eyebrow from Henry to which she just explained that this was all for a special dinner for a special guy. This seemed to be all Henry needed to know, earning her a soft smile and a sampling of the ribs he was cooking dripping in sweet sauce. After falling in love with the delicious meat, promising to come back later in the week with a order for more, and getting the name of the place she could acquire these raw and untreated woods (that happened to be the same place Grillby had noted) she tipped the wonderful Henry for his time (to which he tried to argue for only a moment but she wouldn’t hear of it).

Taking a short stroll across the street and down a block brought them to the wood shop where Selene decided on purchasing Plum, Pear, Almond, Walnut, and Kiawe wood chips, an apparently tropical variety of mesquite that they had just gotten in that day from Hawaii that was said to be quite good. With purchases in hand, well Sebastian's hands, they headed back to the car a few blocks back until a bookstore’s window display that they were passing caught her eye, stopping her in her tracks. Sparked with inspiration and unable to stop herself Selene proceeded to walk in the shop and purchased two copies of the latest book. After this little detour the two finally did make it back to the car, unloaded their parcels, and Selene gave the address of the next place she needed to go to the driver. The odd thing was that she didn’t give a proper address but an intersection to be taken to, this didn’t go unnoticed by her steward earning her another arched eyebrow. “I just need to drop off my formal invitation for Grillby with my address in it. His place is tucked away so it’s better to just go to the nearest corner.” Arriving at the corner Selene slipped out of the car but stopped Sebastian from following. “I’ll only be 5 minutes tops. If i’m gone any longer feel free to come save me from myself.” Sebastian could hardly keep the incredulous look off his face as he tried to argue, “And how do you intend-” but she didn’t let him finish. “If it really came to that I have every confidence that you could find me no matter what, but it’s private entrance and I haven’t gotten permission to tell anyone that information so I can’t. Yes even you Sebastian, you know how I am with what I’m to keep private. I promise i’ll be back shortly if not stopped.” That’s what her steward was afraid of and yet he waited.

Walking briskly down the back alley, bag in one hand and invitation in the other, Selene soon made it to sturdy door and quickly gave it the secret knock. The window slid open revealing Doggo’s piercing eyes, giving her and the alley a quick once over he soon opened the door allowing her to step in. Giving her a quick greeting the doordog was surprised when she didn’t make any motion to head towards the bar. Instead she just smiled brightly up at him, “Hello Doggo! Lovely to see you again. Unfortunately I can’t stay today but could you please give this to Grillby please?” Handing over the the envelope with Grillby’s full name written in elegantly flowing cursive he quickly picked on the sent of peach and cherry blossom perfume emanating from it just like it’s deliverer. Giving her a nod Selene enthusiastically gave her thanks, slipped him 50 cents for his trouble, and swept back out the door with a quick goodbye before Doggo could argue or say anything otherwise.

Back in the car before her five minutes were up her steward just sighed as she smiled back at him while the two rode home. Once in Selene dropped of the wood with William, grabbed her two books and mentioned she would be upstairs until dinner. Had she chose to stay downstairs in her parlor instead of the comfort of her room she may have heard Sebastian making a discreet call from the front hall. Heard him make a request to check for a file of someone with his friend down at the police precinct.

[arcticmonkeysaf]

Translation of Alex Turner’s interview in ICON magazine 

Alex Turner, leader of Arctic Monkeys, the biggest rock band of the 21st century, and perhaps its last hope

"What the hell is this?"

We've just arrived at the location of our interview with Alex Turner, leader of Arctic Monkeys, who is absolutely awestruck. It's the first floor of the Bethnal Green Town Hall Hotel in London, an ancient Edwardian building with touches of art deco, converted, of course, into a hotel. In a room of the first floor, a photoshoot has just taken place.

"Well, I don't know, I think the people are getting married," says the press agent, attempting to explain some of the excitement it's provoked in Alex being in the space, without getting too carried away: we still have a job to do. Alex begins to run through the hall, the site of council meetings of the Bethnal Green since 1910, when the building was constructed. Nearly all civic government buildings in Spain are smaller, and certainly not as lovely as this place.

The writer of Fake Tales of San Francisco has already seated himself in the chair we suspect belongs to the mayor.

"What do you want? A fine or a wedding?" he jokes.

The press agent leaves, but the leader of the band formed in the era when teenagers no longer wanted to form rock bands can't keep still. He runs between the benches until he's standing in the spot meant for the speaker.

"A hundred pounds! Look here's £100!" He procures two rosy £50 notes. I suggest to him that we should keep them. He laughs. I decide not to insist. I say instead we should start the interview, after all we are here to talk about Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino, the sixth album by the band, not to get married or chat. He stops laughing. It's a shame that Alex Turner becomes such a timid person, careful and cautious, when the tape recorder starts. Before he assumes the role of frontman of the group that launched AM four years ago and made it the best selling vinyl record of the 21st century, he permits himself one last question.

"Would you get married here?" We look around - myself still thinking about those £100 - while we get cozy in two benches in the last row. I answer no, that's it's all very interesting, but not at all romantic.

"I agree. Motion denied," he decides.

Rising to fame in the middle of the last decade, Arctic Monkeys have become a phenomenon thanks to a handful of songs a friend converted into mp3 - they say that they, despite being part of the digital age, had problems even turning on a computer - which soon began to spread on the Internet. It was the raucous, intelligent, and British response to The Strokes. Seeing them on the stage in those early days, before the premiere of their debut album, Whatever People Say I Am That's What I'm Not, which would see the light of day in 2006 and would become the fastest selling debut album ever in Britain within in its first week of release, was a tremendously peculiar experience. Four kids at 3 a.m. making a spectacular noise in the Sala Razzmatazz in Barcelona, but who could barely reach the bar counter to order a drink.

More than a decade has passed and they've recorded four albums more. A brilliant sequel (Favourite Worst Nightmare), another risky, rapturous and rocking (Humbug, recorded en the California desert with Josh Homme), a delicate and underrated return to pop (Suck It and See) and a million-dollar beast, a sex-soundtrack record called AM. And then, they stopped.

"When we stopped touring in 2014, nearly everyone in the band was about to get married, or having kids, or another kid. The end of those concerts was much like the end of another chapter. We were all 28 or 29 and it felt like everything was about to change. During this neverending tour I thought that record would be with me forever. It was the longest tour we had ever done. Now I think we extended it because we knew that when it ended it would be the end of something bigger than just a series of concerts. I expected everything to change, well, I felt that even though the numbers said the opposite, in the end we had less than we started with," remembers Turner, about the final days we would see the band together in public.

Now all living in the U.S., each of the band members went on his own path. Alex returned to The Last Shadow Puppets, a band loved by Arctic Monkeys devotees. There Turner splits responsibilities with his friend Miles Kane, a guy with impeccable taste but with terrible ideas. In 2016 the pair played the mainstage at Primavera Sound, where they were the headliners. That performance was grotesque. The image of Turner, who looked like a mix between an actor in Rebeldes and a finalist in an Elvis impersonators competition, had only a semblance of Arctic Monkeys of AM. In that context he made a bit of a joke of himself. Compared to the boy who, as an adolescent, was rejected by a second-hand clothing shop in Sheffield because he was too shy, it had gotten out of hand.

"That was..." His words are halting, he speaks very slowly, he leaves sentences unfinished and even stops a joke short if he finds the punchline isn't as funny as he'd thought. "I think what I wanted to say with that image and that attitude have been said. It's over."

Now Turner sports long hair and a beard which has been the object of controversy among his fans, who even launched a Change.org campaign for him to shave it.

"There's a lot of scrutiny around our next step, I know. We've always tried to be discreet with what we do, where and with whom. It's normal, but I don't think we do it on purpose. In this age, it's hard to keep secrets. With this record we tried and even just getting to the studio, the sound engineer goes and posts a picture of us. Everyone is so crazy these days, they act like they're Columbo. 'I saw this, I spotted that guy...'" explains Turner when asked how it's possible that a band as big as his, who will be the headliners at Primavera Sound and at MadCool, has managed to make sure that, even with only a month left until the record's launch, no one knows absolutely anything about it.

"I don't know if not getting involved in social media is something we do on purpose to protect the band, but it helps," says Turner, introducing the topic of being offline. "Maybe it's not in our DNA to expose ourselves. I've put so much into the music that I don't know what more I can do with that. I can't open a Twitter account because I think everything's there, in the songs. I'd make a fool of myself if I started tweeting. See, social media doesn't bother me, truthfully, but when you become the version of yourself you've created in the virtual world there's something there that allows people to do their worst against you. And you can also do your worst against them. The consequences of that I can't even imagine, but I don't want them."

We've had to listen to Tranquility Base in a version that downloads and is scheduled for automatic deletion the next week. The band have asked us not to ask anything personal, days after an encounter Alex had with a journalist from The Times. There is no single before the release, but there is a new logo for the band's image. The only photograph of Turner is the one taken by a guard in an airport days before this meeting and which has reactivated the fierce debate with respect to the Sheffielder's beard. It's a record release like the ones before, but Turner hardly seems like a global superstar. I tell him that one time I interviewed Beyoncé and they sat me at one end of a massive table and told me that I shouldn't even think about touching her, and that, on another occasion interviewing Chris Cornell, I had to go into a hotel room that was completely dark and had to confirm that the voice answering my questions was actually the grunge singer's.

"Would you like some water?" Turner interrupts, and, before I can respond, fills my glass.

During the hours after our meeting, the first new photo of the band is made public (they look as though they're dressed for a wedding in December of 1972 in Iceland) and they publish the details and tracklisting of their latest record, which was recorded in Paris, London, and Los Angeles, where the band members now reside. But what most strikes me is the first line. "I just wanted to be one of The Strokes, now look at the mess you've made me make," sings Turner on “Star Treatment”, a gem of a song that marks the tone of an album destined to confound all those who expected something bombastic, expansive, and hormonal. The LP has songs with titles as fabulous as The Ultracheese, Batphone, or The World's First Ever Monster Truck Front Flip. Imagine Richard Hawley going on tour with comedian Andy Kaufman and performing only in Sheraton hotels located in state capitals, or Scott Walker in the pub, singing after a Sheffield United match. It's deliciously decadent and promises to polarize the opinions of millions of their fans. Is [Turner] nervous? And, more importantly, is he confident?

"Let's see, I think I remember feeling a bit like that with this last record. I wasn't sure if it was the right album. Are we going down the wrong path? It always happens. When I showed the first songs to my manager, to the people from the record label and my colleagues, a lot of the reactions were 'It's very unique.' I thought it was unique, but not that much. I doubted whether it was the right record for the Monkeys. So, Jamie came to my house and stayed with me for two weeks while we recorded. His enthusiasm for the songs confirmed to me that it was the right choice. If this is what comes out of me, that's what it is. I think we can do what we want to do, it's our band. So there's no reason to worry about whether it's a hit or not," he says about a record that, from time to time, evokes loneliness.

"Yes, a little bit," concedes Turner. "There's always been something in me that has made me isolated in life. But until now, I don't know why, I've avoided touching upon that on a creative level. The words passed through a very long process of refinement. It's been complicated getting here. For example, that first line about The Strokes. I fought hard against it, I wanted it but I didn't want it. I thought, "Hell, I'll leave it, because I know I'll change it because it's impossible that I'll end up saying this nonsense." And it got to a point that I thought, "If I feel like this, why not say it? I should be honest."