#cora darling wake up

[bonhughbon]

Hugh Bonneville, along with Miss Piggy and Kermit the Frog at the Coronation Concert at Windsor Castle || May 7, 2023 (x)

[spacebaby1]

Law is sick

Rosinante Donquixote × Mom!Reader ft: Child!Law

"Achooo"

You stopped cutting the apple in the kitchen when you heard a sneeze, it was quiet for a minute so you went back to cutting when you heard it again, this time louder, "ACHHOOOO." You placed the knife down and cleaned your hands on the napkin.

"Sweetie?"

"Yes, Darling?" Cora-San replied thinking you are calling for him, "Not you Sweetheart, the small one." All you heard is a chuckle and Cora-San calling for Law to come out of his room.

You waited a minute before Law showed up rubbing his nose with the back of his shirt sleeve, "Yes, Mama?" You crouched down to his level and gently placed your hands on his forehead and cheek, "Sweetie, you're burning up, why didn't you tell me that you weren't feeling alright?"

"Huh?" He blinked barley able to keep his eyes open, "Oh, my little boy. Come here" you picked him up that's when Cora-San showed up in the kitchen as you were leaving, "hey, can I cut that ap-"

"NO! Sweetheart, I'll do it just get me cold water in a bowel and the towels from that cupboard?"

He nodded before ruffling Law's hair, "Wow, you're burning from your head! SHOULD WE TAKE HIM TO THE HOS-"

"Shhh, you're gonna give my baby a headache, he'll be fine, I'll take care of him, but if his fever doesn't go down, we'll take him to hospital."

"Mamaaaa" Law whined snuggling in your arms, and you motioned for Cora-San to get what you told him as you walked to Law's room before placing him on the bed and pulling the blanket over him, "here, I got the water and the towel." Cora-San said placing the cold water bowl on the nightstand before making his way on the other side of the bed and gently stroking his son's hair, "you'll be fine, buddy. We are here, Mama's gonna take care of you." He was making face to make Law smile and laugh which worked for a while but you could notice how scared your husband was and he was freaking out internally from the look he kept giving you everytime Law would cough or sneeze.

After an hour you and Cora-San were in kitchen while Law fell asleep. As promised you cut the apple for Cora-San but he just stood there zoned out looking at the plate, "Honey, he will be fine, don't freak out, you are gonna scare him." Cora-San whined and you handed him the apple slice, "eat!"

"Are you sure we don't need to take him to hospital? What if it's his dis-"

You slapped a hand on his shoulder, "Don't say that! It's not!"

"I'm so sorry, I just get scared" Cora-San sighed rubbing the back of his blonde hair, you hugged him, "it's okay, it's just a cold, the weather is changing and he's been out playing a lot it's just that nothing more, now eat up."

You both couldn't sleep but somehow you managed to get Cora-San to sleep but kept your room door open just in case Law called out for you. It was 4 A.M now and you still couldn't sleep, still wide awake looking at the wall, and just when you were about to doze off a small voice made you jump, it was Law's voice and you literally jump out of the bed making sure to not wake Cora-San up.

Walking to Law's room you heard him calling for you even clearly now, "hey-" you thought he was awak but his eyes were shut as he cried in his sleep hands grabbing on the blanket tightly. Immediately you rushed to his bedside and sat beside his head and placed your hand on his head and the other on his heart, "shhh, it's okay, I'm here, Mama is here, Law my beautiful boy, shhh, Mama's here." You heard a loud thud followed by footsteps coming towards the room you just knew it was your husband, who probably fell on his way to Law's room.

His hair was everywhere as he made his way inside the room to find Law silently crying now holding on your hand that you had placed on his heart. Cora-San sat on the floor and placed his hand over yours on Law's head as he started to cry, watching his boy like that made him cry and you didn't know to cry or laugh at how sweet your husband is towards his baby boy.

You ruffled his hair and he looked at you with red eyes full of tears and sleep; "why are you crying?"

"My boy..." was all he managed to say before you got an idea, "Honey, do that thing!" You said almost immediately Cora-San looked at you confused, "w-what thing?"

"The calm thing, the one you do to calm me down if I'm panicking or scared, do it, can you?"

Cora-San gasped, his D.F powers, of course! He immediately placed his hand directly on Law's head and spoke,"Calm." Almost immediately, Law calmed down, and his cries were long gone. Both you and Cora-San shared a small smile.

Law woke up around seven in the morning to find himself in bed in-between both of you as both of you had your hand place on his heart, he blinked before rubbing his nose and snuggling into you which made Cora-San groan in his sleep and throw his hand over you and Law as you held Law tightly still fast Asleep, "M-mama, Papa" Law whispered to himself and fell asleep again in the comfort of his parents embrace.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Just to kiss me (Part 3)

pairing: Finnick Odair x reader

(AO3 mirror)

Part One, Part Two, My Hunger Games Masterlist

summary: A night at the lake goes sour. Finnick does some reflecting

warnings: drowning, implied drug use, references to depression, some hurt/comfort (although there will be more in the next part)

required reading: The song "We'll never have sex" by Leith Ross <3

a/n: plot??? in my fic??? who woulda thought

wc: 3.4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me

Not to take me home

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s cold. Sharp, shallow breaths, and his head pounds in his skull. The weight of a thousand depths on his chest. Something pressing behind his eyes; his head filled with lead. 

Finnick opens his eyes, and he’s met with the bright lights of the mens bathroom. Cold ceramic against his palms as he looks into the basin’s mirror; its ornate frame spanning the width of the double sinks. Beyond its walls, the dull thrum of the gala. Behind him, a man steps out of a stall, donned in shiny grease and draped fabric. Finnick flashes a well practised smile, and steps out.

He walks through the corridors, transforming. Shoulders back, upright, leisurely pace. Walk in like he's Finnick Odair; capitol darling. A deep breath, and he steps through gilded double doors. 

The Great Hall is packed, unsurprisingly. They all blur together, a writhing mass of limbs and wine. Hushed whispers and elbows and raised eyebrows: it washes over him like water. 

Easygoing and free flowing, he drifts between embankments of people. He tugs on the sleeve of his jacket absent-mindedly. Pulling at the threads was an art, at this point. Between sips of champagne, a gentle hand on the back, a well-placed compliment; he pulls and pulls, until they're almost threadbare. An art; skills honed in those four walls, the victory tour, press conferences, a life of cameras and glamour. Watching, always watching. And so he puts on a show. 

Some of his best work yet, he thinks. In the middle of a conversation about a raucous night with Panem's finest; he spots something. Someone. A girl in the corner, eyes flitting around the room like it's her first time. There's always one, shaky, doesn't know how to pretend like the rest of them; she hasn't built that reflex yet. His mouth moves faster than he can think; ichor flows like it's second nature. The group around him; enraptured. He likes this part, at least. Weaving stories, watching the fish in the river rush past his ankles. 

BANG! A spear into the heart of a writhing salmon, and he slams his glass on a side table. "....it was like a rocket! Cora's on the floor, Alaris can barely stand and I'm still trying to figure out which way's up…" laughter erupts from the crowd around him. The girl barely glances at him. He watches as she tucks herself behind the desserts tray, wholly more interested in the cakes than him. She's pretty, of course, but they always are. A newcomer floundering like he once did, overwhelmed by the sharp teeth and pink tongues. He's still tugging at the thread of his jacket. 

In the afterglow of conversation someone taps his shoulder, presses their lips towards his ear. Discreet. He doesn't look, Finnick knows better. Instead, he waits for instructions. 

"Venia Laurel, on your left, towards the door. He knows something." A familiar voice; of which her name he makes a point not to know. Quietly, he hums in affirmation. 

"How long do I have?" 

"He needs it done tonight."

He flashes a smile at a waiter, grabbing a flute of gold liquid. Under his breath, he says. "I need more time." It was a quicker turnaround than usual; and Finnick needed the time. Whilst stupid, many wouldn't divulge sensitive information that easily; he'd like to avoiding waking up in a bed other than his own. 

"Tonight." Firm. An unspoken threat in the air. He sighs and downs his drink. The mask drops when he begins to move away. And then, sharp nails latch onto his forearm. 

"He knows." She says lowly, voice trembling. Finnick stops like she's stabbed him. He turns, and her eyes are wide, bloodshot, scared. 

He knows. 

He rushes out of her grip, shaking. Thudding at his temples, the lights are too bright, the people too loud. Chest tight, he pulls at his sleeves and almost stumbles into an oncoming tray of hor d'oeuvres. 

In his haze, his manager, bumbling and rosy, slaps a hand on his back. Well-meaning, but it makes him jump. 

"Odair!" He splutters, lips curling so his moustache touches the apples of his cheeks. Any other time, it would've been comical. "We've got a certain Councillor Arachne, who wants a word."

Finnick rubs his eyes, tired. "Now's not the time, Stannis."

The man opposite huffs. "Not the time? She's bankrolling us -I mean - you with her campaign. All she wants is a word. Probably pimping you out to her friends, or something."

He winces at Stannis' bluntness. "Sure… sure. Lead the way."

Every step feels like lead. He's not listening when introduced to Councillor Arachne and another girl about his age. Arachne; a tall, spindly woman, dressed in a simple gown and pearls; stretches her face into a thin-lipped smile. Well-practised, too polished. 

"Mr Odair, how lovely to meet you again!" 

"The pleasure's all mine," He says, shaking her hand. It feels clammy, he's sure of it; the room's hot and thick with sweat. The girl besides her buzzes despite his nerves. "And this is…?"

“V-Vonnie. Sir. Mr Odair… s-sir. My name's Vonnie Dulaire, and I am so excited to meet you…!" She's bright, babbling on and on. Her lips are bubblegum pink, moving at a thousand miles an hour and he's barely able to concentrate - unable to stop thinking about the words spoken to him earlier.

".....and I'm probably your biggest fan! I was actually at the victory tour for your mentee, and it was electric...."

He knows.

".....is your suit custom? I hear there's a stylist you always work with that designs similar looks, like in your last interview…"

He knows.  

"....I can't imagine Ceasar actually said that to you, live! I've got a friend, who swears she 'doesn't watch that kinda crap' but even she said it was quite a scandal…"

He knows. 

"....I got it specially made and I think it matches yours, too. What do you think?"

He snaps his head upwards at the question. He gives her a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, but enough to dazzle. "Couldn't have said it better myself. I-If you'll excuse me." He nods, walking off towards the door. 

Finnick can't breathe.

Clawing at the collar of his shirt, gold jewellery like a noose around his neck, he stumbles onto the balcony - grateful for the cool air. He was careful, he made sure of it. Made sure there were no eyes, cashed in long-standing favours. How could Snow have found out? 

Dizzy, he steadies himself on the balcony. There wasn't the time for a panic attack, not now. He blinks away hot tears, gasping for a breath. Something clatters on the floor behind him. In the gloom, he makes out the silhouette of a stranger. Of you. 

~~~

You're frozen at first - paralysed with fear on the deck. Finnick isn't moving. A man basically born with gills, sinking into the inky blue. Why wasn't he moving? Did he fall? Where did the blood come from?

A thousand questions, not enough time. You don't think, not really, as you reach for the zipper on your gown. Haphazard, you wrench it off - not caring for the tears and rips created in your wake. Before long, you're in the slip dress underneath miles of beaded net. Barefoot, trembling, you don't hesitate. You take a step back, and jump. 

The first thing you feel is cold; consuming, numbing cold. Calm, for a moment. And then biting realisation. When you surface, you look for a sign of life - anything that can tell you where Finnick is. There are slight bubbles, a few metres away. Deep breaths, and you dive into the blue-black. 

~~~

He can't stop thinking about you.

Finnick sits in white sheets, looking up at the ceiling. Exhausted, but he can't sleep. Gentle snoring from beside him punctuates every thought. In the capitol he's constantly surrounded by beautiful things: gaudy, gauche, sickly-sweet and beautiful. Your meeting on the balcony shouldn't have been anything special, and yet… 

Even in your fancy dress, your personality shone through: kind, funny, genuine. He can't help but replay your laugh, your smile, in his head. Gently, he rolls out of bed. 

It's early in the morning, dregs of sunrise scatter through the window. He's draped in amber light as he pulls on a shirt; padding on plush carpet. In the mirror hanging up in Venia Laurel's bedroom, he looks a sight, he thinks. Sallow, glitter smeared around his eyes, and lean lined. There's a nasty bruise on his neck; bite marks at his stomach. He pokes at them demurely. It's tender, but he'll live. 

Methodical, he makes his search. He starts in the bedroom, pulling at cabinets and looking for false bottom drawers, anywhere that could conceal what he's looking for. Laurel's apartment is surprisingly messy - unexpected for such a clean cut actor. Finnick dabbles in secrets, and the older man certainly divulged; he knew of the actor's connections with ex-gamemakers, but nothing concrete to suggest he leaked plans to interested parties. 

When he searches the grand living room, he stumbles onto something out of place. A panel in the floor, it's lip jutting out of the wood. He presses on it, and it pops out with a hollow clunk. Inside, a chip the size of his thumbnail. Finnick pockets it, hoping it may be what Snow is looking for; hoping to appease the tyrant. It burns a hole in his trousers as he covers his tracks, before calling a pod to take him home. 

He can't sleep, for the usual reasons. Guilt, nightmares, fear; take your pick. It's too nebulous and vague to put a name to; he realises quickly. A ticking clock careening towards the end for as long as he could remember. Tick-tick-tick in his head, a countdown of which he dreads to hear it stop. White noise now, the scratch and itch of it all bone deep. He tried to do a good thing, for once; he tried to help Annie. But Snow knows - and now his punishment will be slow and painful. 

In the weeks that follow, waiting for a knife in the back, he analyses every word. On the balcony, the way your lips curled into laughter, how soft your hand was. It was a fantasy, somehow, one he had to convince himself actually happened. A conversation, lilting and light, that he locks up in his heart for safe-keeping. 

It keeps him distracted at events. Instead of worrying about Snow, he fans his breath, adjusts his collar, and stops picking at his sleeves; preening like a songbird. When he asks for the sleeveless sheer shirt instead of his usual, his stylist humours him and lets him choose, just this once. In the middle of a conversation, when he hears bright laughter, he turns around, looking for you. Waiting on balconies, pacing corridors. He's gone insane, he knows. But he needs something to hold on to. Someone that makes him feel like a good person - like he isn't Finnick Odair. 

~~~

You're not the strongest swimmer. Ironic, considering the circumstances. Moonlight streams into the depths as you look for a hint of gold. The water stings your eyes but in the gloom, you see him. Eerily still and rapidly sinking. You pump your legs desperately; darting towards him as best you can. Lungs screaming for air, you swim further down, reaching out for something to grab onto. The tips of your fingers graze his own. He looks peaceful despite it all: eyes closed and hand outstretched like he always does. Except this time you reach for him, a frantic grab in the dark. 

You touch something. His wrist. Curling your hand around his forearm, you pull, and grab onto one arm and then the other. You're dizzy now, hand hooked onto Finnick, kicking with all the strength you can manage. Upwards you go, closer and closer to the surface as black spots dance across your vision. A little further. A little closer….

~~~

The day of Hadrian's soiree, he pretends he's not looking for you. Pretending proves to be marginally easier than to act like he isn't disappointed when he doesn't find you. Instead, there are droves of people in masks. The hair on the back of his neck bristles: they make him uneasy. He finds it harder without a face to a name, beady eyes through masks that follow him around the room.

His own mask was gaudy; triple faced and golden. Its strap itches his nose, and his eyes are caked in glitter. At his stylist's the night before, she gave him talking points for the reporters - a face looking towards Panem's past, present and future. A handsome young Victor, making waves within the Capitol, championing it's people. Pseudo-patriotic drivel to feed the vultures, he thinks. 

Dregs of conversation drip through the night. It's always the same things - empty gossip and the like. Today's topic is no more poignant: the mentors announced for the 72nd Games. A few familiar faces, and faux shock at those not on the list. Everyone dances around the topic when he lingers, and disperses into whispers when he doesn't. Talking of bets placed and withdrawn at the news, he assumes. 

The truth is, he was tired. It was only right he took Mags' place when he won, but he was so young. Odair, bright-eyed and sprightly. A wonderboy, and Capitol favourite from the start. In the mirror of silvered bowls of food, he sees that little boy with bloodied palms and sunken eyes.

He blinks, hard. The image washes away. Seeing things in the light? A side effect from the little white pills he takes before bed, he's been told. He staggers slightly from the table. Annie tugs at his sleeve from behind. 

"You ok?" she whispers, concerned. 

Finnick brushes her off, chuckling. ".... I should be asking you that. It's not too much?" 

She shakes her head. It's the first time since her victory tour she's been at one of these events, and he's worried that it's too much, too fast. Perceptive as always, he watches for a tug of her red hair, or the blank look she gives when overwhelmed. Annie was getting better, lucid for the first time in a while. She smiled, she laughed, she shone. 

That's why he couldn't tell her what he did, what he had to do, to let her see her parents. To let her live. Another time, perhaps. 

She clears her throat, mischievously. "Looking for your mystery girl?“

“T-That's not-" 

"-what you were doing, I know, I know. That's also what you said the last five times." She bounces on the balls of her feet, restless. "I know you like the back of my hand, Finnick. It's not like you to mope in the corner - something's up."

Annie's unrelenting: she doesn't let the man worm out of her gaze. Despite his discomfort, it's nice to see her like this; the little spitfire in Class 9, kind and sweet and determined to help. A change of pace, he presents his forearm to the younger woman. 

He smiles, "We should dance." 

~~~

You break the surface with Finnick in tow. He's completely still in your arms. Desperate and tired, you try to remember the swimming lessons from your youth; on your back, resting him on your legs with an arm hooked around him. Kick with everything you've got, keep his head above water. It's messy and ugly, as you pump your legs towards the shore; searching for the moment the depths below give way to sodden banks. 

You hit silt, suddenly. Your toes touch the lake bed and you desperately try to drag him onto shore.  Without the spray of the water, you can see him properly: sallow and grey. Like a corpse. His stillness is terrifying and you try not to think about what it means, or how long it's been since he's taken a breath. On autopilot now, you lay him on the banks, pressing shaky fingers to his pulse. Nothing. Rushing, you tilt his head upwards like you've been taught. With trembling lips pressed against his, you pinch his nose and breath out. You press your hands against his chest and push down, hard. Quick compressions, and you count from thirty. 

Nothing. And so you try again. Warm lips around his cold ones, deep breaths out, and quick compressions. Again. Desperate, harder, determined. 

When Finnick splutters to life, you think you could cry from exhaustion. His eyes are wild, as he coughs and thrashes; a hand tight around yours. 

"It's okay…. y-you're okay…" You soothe, holding back sobs. It seems to calm him as he lies down, brow furrowed and taking deep shaky breaths. Up this close, his pupils are dilated, and he seems disoriented, dazed. There's a sticky cut at his brow, but his eyes are locked onto you. Green and striking in the low light. Alive. 

For a while, you stay like that; watching his chest rise and fall as you hold hands by the lake. He's closed his eyes, but still breathes steadily. You barely register anything but him, until a chill blows past. Cold. Wet. Tired. The adrenaline of the moment dies down. You have to coax his hand out of yours to grab the things you dropped before… before all this. Every few seconds you glance over your shoulder to make sure he's still there, to make sure he's alive. 

He settles his head onto your shoulder, and you cradle his hands with your own; listening for the cruel staccato of his breath. He's groggy, asleep maybe. You've wrapped yourselves up in the blankets, too tired to move. You should, really: the remnants of your dress strewn onto the jetty, shiny from where you are by the trees. Cottonmouth and lead-limbed, you wait for him to become lucid. 

Something's wrong. You've felt like this before holding Vonnie's hand on the bathroom floor after a night out with the wrong crowd. Calm, and then a moment of mania before a rough comedown. You can't help but to search for needle marks on Finnick's arms, his neck, anywhere. He's pliant, unusually so, but you don't find anything. 

Your heart sinks, when you realise. The pills in his car. Morphling? He could've slipped or fallen in. He could've… jumped. And if he's been drinking….? It wouldn't matter how strong a swimmer he was usually. You dread to think of what could have happened if you were even a minute later. Tears fall even faster. You hold onto his hand a little tighter. 

When Finnick comes to, properly, you've fallen asleep. He opens his eyes to you by his side: hair down your shoulders, glitter-peppered skin, pearls in your locs, and in a white flowing dress. Well and truly, he thinks he's died. Somewhere faraway he doesn't deserve, waking up besides you. His head hurts. 

You startle, awake from your shallow slumber. Eyes red-raw, you've been crying. He wipes at your cheek and smiles weakly. 

"Let me take you home." 

Defiant, you shake your head. "No. N-no. You need to see a doctor. I can call a pod and-" 

"-no. We can't. No doctors. I'll take you home."

"Finnick, you almost died. You need help, medical attention…"

"I can't. Please."

He must look so pathetic like this, he thinks. You soften under his gaze. "N-no doctors, then. But I'm not leaving you alone like this."

"I'll be okay. I've got a first aid kit at home - don't need you worrying about me."

You stand up. "I'll come with you, then. Help patch you up." 

Exasperated, he moves to argue but doesn't have the energy. And so, he nods faintly. Despite his injuries, he towers over you, to wrap you up in the blanket, criss-crossing at your chest. It feels intimate, too close, warm breath in the cool air. With the way you look up at him, he hears his heart splinter. He pauses. 

"I'm sor-" 

"No." You say.

Finnick frowns. "I'm s-" 

"No." Your lower lip trembles, threatening to spill over. So he sighs, softly, and makes towards the deck to get your dress. Hand tight around his arm, you stop him. He's not going anywhere near the lake, not if you can help it. Hands up like he's guilty, he waits and leads you towards the car.

_

_

_

[fictionthorn]

SFW Alphabet: Donquixote Rosinante (Corazon)

CW/TW: None Word Count: 0.9k

Activities - What are their favorite things to do with you? How do you spend your free time?

He enjoys doing just about anything with you but his favorite thing is simply going for late night walks.

Boo! - How do they feel about surprises, giving and receiving?

He’s not a big fan of surprises but he’s also not completely against them. As long as it’s not too often.

Comfort - How do they comfort you when you’re upset? When the tables turn, do they come to you, or do they try to handle it themselves?

Whenever you are upset, he’s quick to pull you into a hug. It’s his way of not only comforting you but also reminding you that he’s there for you to lean on.

When he’s upset he’ll come to you as soon as he gets the chance to. Usually he just needs someone to vent to that is willing to listen and maybe a few kisses.

Dance - Do they like to dance with you? How good of a dancer are they?

He does like to dance with you even though he’s not that good at it. It’s only because he’s clumsy but he always does his best.

Excitement - How do they act when they’re excited? What excites them?

Somehow he manages to get even more clumsy when he’s excited.

Future - What are their plans for the future? Do they see themselves getting married, having kids?

He wants a life with you. A house, marriage, kids, he wants the whole package.

Gifts - What do they give you as presents? How often do they get you gifts?

Cora is a fan of giving simple gifts like flowers. He’ll get you flowers regularly to show how much he appreciates you.

Hold - How do they hold you? Cuddling, sleeping, holding hands…

His touch is always gentle regardless if you’re simply holding hands or cuddling in bed.

Ideal - What’s their ideal date like?

Cora’s ideal date is a classic dinner date. There’s nothing like some good food and even better company.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they handle it?

Cora isn’t really the jealous type, but he can be a bit insecure sometimes. He knows you love him, but there’s a small part of him that worries you’ll find someone better one day.

Kisses - How do they like to kiss you? How frequently do you kiss?

He loves kissing you and he’ll do it whenever you let him.

Love - How do they show you that they love you?

Cora usually wakes up before you so he started leaving little love notes on the nightstand for you to read when you wake up.

Melt - What do you do that absolutely makes them melt?

You take his hat. He thinks you look adorable when you wear it.

Nicknames - What do they call you, and what are their favorite things to be called?

He calls you things like honey and sweetheart.

He always likes when you call him love or darling.

Obvious - How obvious do they make it that they like you?

He doesn’t think he’s being obvious with his feelings but in actuality it is very obvious that he likes you.

Pets - Do they have pets? Do they want them?

Cora would be a cat person.

Quiet - How are the calm, quiet moments with them?

Thanks to Cora’s devil fruit the two of you can have calm, quiet moments whenever you want.

Those moments are always a nice break from the usual day to day chaos.

Romance - How romantic are they? What are their go-to ways of being romantic?

Cora can be fairly romantic, but there are times when he can be a bit awkward in the romance department.

Safe - What makes them feel safe and comfortable around you?

You are always there to pick him when he falls. Literally.

Tend - How do they act when you’re hurt or sick, and vice versa?

He doesn’t like seeing you hurt or sick. He’s always there to take care of you, even when you try to tell him you’re fine.

When he’s hurt or sick you do the same thing for him. He always appreciates the extra attention.

Unique - What’s an unusual thing about them that’s oddly charming?

His clumsiness. There are times when it can get a little annoying but overall, it’s just part of what makes him, him.

Variety - Do they prefer to keep things the same, or spice it up?

Cora is open to spicing things up occasionally but overall, he prefers routine.

Wash - What’s it like taking a bath with them, or helping them wash up after a fight?

Having a bath with him is always fun since it gives the two of you time to relax and enjoy each other's company.

XO - How do they show you affection? How much PDA are they willing to show?

He’s alright with a bit of PDA. Things like holding hands or having an arm around your shoulders.

Yearn - What do they do when they miss you?

He’ll try not to make it obvious when he’s missing you, but there’s always a certain sad look in his eyes when you’re not around.

Zzz - How do they act when they get sleepy? How is it sleeping in the same bed?

He gets a bit clingy when he starts getting tired, but he’s very aware of it. He worries if he’s too clingy it’ll start to bother you despite you telling him you don’t mind it.

When it comes to sharing a bed, Cora likes to be close to you.

[adoracora-elizabeth]

Music made me love you, chapter 34

For a moment Cora was confused about where she was. When she heard Robert's snoring, she remembered. They had stayed in his Westminster apartment. He had made love to her in a way that she would never have imagined was possible. It was gentle and hard at the same time. Thinking about it made her body tingle again. She looked at the clock, it was only seven in the morning. She should try to sleep some more, but she felt right awake. She got up, trying not to wake up Robert.

She found a sweater on a chair and threw it over her head. She did not want to shower and change for the day yet. The sweater was too big, but it smelled heavenly. It was a mix of Robert’s scent and the perfume he used. She found the way to the kitchen, last night he had carried her to the bedroom, and she had been too involved with kissing his neck, that she had not paid attention whereas in the apartment they were.

In the kitchen she looked at the coffee machine, it looked as if she needed an engineering degree to understand how that one worked. Next to it was a kettle and she settled for tea. That would please Robert, she knew that. When she walked into the living room, she saw that there was a big terrace on this floor too. It was enormous, so much space was not something she could ever imagine having in the city centre.

It looked cold outside, so she decided to sit in one of the big armchairs. She found a blanket which she wrapped around her. Before she sat down, she took her phone out her back. That was still standing in the same spot as she left it yesterday evening. There were some text messages and missed phone calls. All from the same sender, her mother. It gave her an unpleasant feeling, did something happen? Quickly she opened the first text: 'I cannot believe that you are ignoring your mother. I should have never allowed you to go back to London. You have not finished a new book. What are you doing that is preventing you from writing.'

The second text she read: 'Still ignoring me. I guess I will have to tell you this way. This Christmas I expect you back in New York. No ifs or buts, you will celebrate Christmas with your brother and me.'

Cora stared at her phone. There were four more messages, all with kind of the same message. Her mother complaining about her not picking up the phone, no finished book yet and Christmas. She did not want to celebrate Christmas in New York. She did not know what Robert’s plans were, but she had hoped to be together with him. She was not planning on going back to New York, without a clear plan. She did not want to get stuck again.

"How long have you been up" Robert's fingers raked through Cora’s curls.

She angled her face up and forced a smile.

"What is wrong?" Robert said while lowering himself next to her. He rested his hand on her arm.

Cora shook her head.

"You do not need to tell me, but if I can help can you let me know?"

Cora sighed. "It is my mother."

"Ah the old story of our mums being annoying. What has she done?"

Cora turned towards Robert. "She wants me to come to New York for Christmas."

Robert now took her hand in his and softly brushed over her hand with his fingers. "We did not discuss Christmas, if your mother really wants to see you, maybe you should go?"

"But it would be our first Christmas together," Cora said timidly, she had not expected him to suggest this.

"Darling, I know, but we will have more Christmases ahead of us. And we do not want to make your mother angry?"

"She is already angry because I have not finished my second book."

"You are working on it; does she expect you to write that book in two weeks' time?"

Cora chuckled. "Apparently." She raised her hand and touched his jaw. "But what do we do with Christmas?"

Robert leaned in and kissed her. "I do not know; I have to think about it, and I cannot think with an empty stomach."

This made Cora jump up. "I am sorry. I could have made breakfast already."

Robert also stood and grabbed Cora’s arm. "I was not saying you have to make breakfast." He pulled her closer. "Since we are in my house, I should be the one making breakfast." He kissed the tip of her nose.

He walked towards the kitchen and Cora followed, suddenly he turned around, making Cora bump into him. "You do look very sexy in that sweater."

Cora wrapped her arms around him. "I should wear it more often than!" She pressed herself against him and she felt his body react.

Robert moaned. "If I was not this hungry, I would have done something else with you."

"We could have a little dessert before breakfast?" She said in a low voice.

Robert kissed her lips. "I normally do not have dessert after breakfast."

Cora wrinkled her nose. "We could start a new tradition."

This made Robert laugh. "For today I prefer to have that dessert after breakfast."

Cora had her hands on his stomach, and she felt it rumble, she laughed. "I can feel your body is conflicted. But let us have breakfast first."

"Oh, I forgot." Robert sighed when he opened the fridge.

Cora looked up, she had sat down on one of the barstools and was reading a magazine that was lying there. Robert had made a new cuppa for her and one for himself.

"I do not have anything decent in this house to make a proper breakfast."

"What do you have?"

"There is one egg left, some toast and milk."

"Do you have cinnamon powder and butter?" Cora asked.

"I do, but why? That will not make a proper breakfast?"

"Do you trust me?"

"We are talking about breakfast. Why change the subject?" Robert was agitated because of his empty stomach.

Cora got up and walked to the counter. "Sit down and I make you breakfast with what we have."

Ten minutes later Robert got a plate in front of him. "I must admit this smells delicious, what is it?" He asked.

"French toast. Did your mother never made that when you were younger?"

Robert chuckled. "My mother has not cooked a meal in her life. But the cook made a typical English breakfast each morning, sometimes alternated with fruit and yoghurt."

"I remember waking up to the smell of French toast. To be honest, I am not sure if my mother ever made breakfast or if she had a cook when we were younger. I guess we also had a cook because I remember her from later in my life." She sat down herself. "This is so easy to make. Some egg, milk and cinnamon and you have a delicious-tasting bread. Enjoy."

Robert was already halfway through the second slice. "This is amazing. That must have been a real treat as a little kid when this was brought to the table."

"It still is a little treat. It was a long time ago that I made this."

Robert waited for Cora to clear her plate and started to clean up.

"Can you explain how your coffee machine works? I am dying to have a decent cup."

This made Robert laugh. "What do you mean? Since when is tea not decent?" He said it in a joking way.

"Oh, for you as a Brit I bet you can wake up with loads of tea, but even though I like tea, I need coffee in the morning."

"Why did you not make yourself one?"

"I could not figure out how your machine worked, and I gave up and settled for tea."

"I will make a real English lady out of you." He had walked back to her, slid his arm over her back and kissed her temple.

"You can try, but coffee will always be my go-to drink in the morning." She leaned against him. "As you needed breakfast before having more fun, I need my coffee."

Robert tickled her. "Your coffee is coming Milady."

[enterrandomname]

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Based on Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed

Word Count: 1.1k

⋆——————✧◦♚◦✧——————⋆

It had been two years since you were forced to leave your home planet, Earth. Life on Mars was a challenge for you to adjust to, and it must’ve been difficult for others too. You were part of a group of colonists that were dispatched to Mars for unknown reasons. Your family was devastated by the news, trying to spend as much time with you as possible before your departure to the red planet.

Despite all of this, you were somehow able to be friends with The Bittering Family, which is composed of Harry, the father, Cora, the mother, and their children Tim, Laura, and David.

It was strange to wake up to the seeded grass that had begun to sprout purple. You listened as Harry frantically rambled about how his cow had grown a third horn in the middle of its head. You only nodded, sipping your drink as you watched Harry throw his hands in the air.

“Can’t we just return back to Earth, (Y/N)?!” He angrily asked, kicking the Marrtian sand away from him.

“Well, Harry,” you calmly responded. “We can wait till the next ships return with the supplies we need.” Harry only frowned. “And how long will that take?” He grumbled, crossing his arms in disappointment.

You paused, silently doing the math in your head. Math was never one of your favorite subjects, yet you somehow managed to pass it. “I dunno, maybe a year or two?” Harry stared at you, dumbfounded.

“Two years?!” You nodded. “Two fuckin’ years?!” He was never the type to curse, so hearing this was quite surprising.

“That’s it! Come on, (Y/N)!”

“Where are we going?”

“We are going to build a ship to get off this red planet!”

⋆——————✧◦♚◦✧——————⋆

“Harry, give yourself a rest, man.” You sighed, handing the man a cloth to wipe away the grease stains on his hand. “I can’t rest, (Y/N); you know that already.”

It was true. After hearing the news about an atomic bomb destroying New York City and the only spaceport, Harry had began to work hard on the ship. You tried to help him out by handing the man the tools he requested, but that only did little to help him.

“What are you two idiots doing?”

The voice caused both you and Harry to look over, eyes widening at the crowd of people outside of Harry’s garage. Harry’s lips parted as he noticed the sudden change in the colonist’s eyes. “Y-your eyes!” He pointed it out, dropping the wrench he had in his hand. “Why are they gold?!” Harry gasped at the man’s skin color, covering his mouth. “Your sk-skin..!”

The colonists only looked confused, with one of them raising an eyebrow before handing Harry a mirror. “You have them too, dumbass.” They chuckled. “It’s not even a big deal. I think my eyes look attractive. What’d ya say we head to the canals and look for some ladies?” The crowd cheered before leaving you and Harry.

The man whimpered as he stared at his own reflection, suddenly dropping the mirror in disbelief. “What are we going to do, (Y/N)?” he whispered, pulling you into a hug as he sobbed on your shoulder.

You awkwardly stood there, patting the devastated man on the back. “It’s goin’ to be alright.” You whispered.

If only you could take those words back. What makes you even think that everything will go well? People have started to change; they even started to say different words that you somehow understand?!

“Darling!” Harry’s wife, Cora, yelled. She had her children beside her, each of them wearing their swimsuits. “Why don’t we all go for a swim in the canals? I heard that they can help relax the mind.” She innocently smiled, not even caring that the six of them looked partially Martian.

After some convincing, Harry finally agreed, but only because you were going with him.

You sighed in relief as you felt the water against your body. “Maybe we just needed to go for a swim, Harry?” You said this, smiling at the man, who nodded in response.

“Mom, dad,” said Tim, the eldest of the three children. “Can I change my name to Linnl?”

The two parents faced each other before reluctantly agreeing.

“Sure.”

“Of course!”

Your golden eyes only narrowed at the husband and wife.

“Oh! Oh! Can I also change my name?!” One of the other kids asked. Honestly, you forget their names, but who cares at the moment? They changed their names to Martian names, and that’s that.

When you and the Bittering Family returned from the canals, you noticed that it was almost like a ghost town. Everyone had just left. You looked at your fingers, noticing how your skin is getting darker. Was it just you, or did everyone suddenly get tall and skinny?

5 years later. . .

A rocket fell out of the sky. It lay steaming in the valley. Men leaped out of it, shouting. “We won the war on Earth! We’re here to rescue you! Hey!” But the American-built town of cottages, peach trees, and theaters was silent. They found a flimsy rocket frame rusting in an empty shop.

The rocket men searched the hills. The captain established headquarters in an abandoned bar. His lieutenant came back to report. "The town's empty, but we found native life in the hills, sir. Dark people. Yellow eyes. Martians. Very friendly. We talked a bit, not much. They learn English fast. I'm sure our relations will be most friendly with them, sir."

"Dark, eh?" mused the captain. "How many?"

“Six, eight hundred, I’d say, living in those marble ruins in the hills, sir. Tall, healthy. Beautiful woman.”

"Did they tell you what became of the men and women who built this Earth settlement, Lieutenant?"

“They hadn't the foggiest notion of what happened to this town or its people."

"Strange. You think those Martians killed them?"

"They look surprisingly peaceful. Chances are a plague did this town in, sir."

"Perhaps. I suppose this is one of those mysteries we'll never solve. One of those mysteries you read about."

The captain looked at the room, the dusty windows, the blue mountains rising beyond, the canals moving in the light, and he heard the soft wind in the air. He shivered. Then, recovering, he tapped a large, fresh map he had thumb-tacked to the top of an empty table. "Lots to be done, Lieutenant." His voice droned on and quietly on as the sun sank behind the blue hills.

"New settlements. Mining sites, minerals to be looked for. Bacteriological specimens taken. The work, all the work. And the old records were lost. We'll have a job of remapping to do, renaming the mountains and rivers and such. Calls for a little imagination."

"What do you think of naming those mountains the Lincoln Mountains, this canal the Washington Canal, those hills —we can name those hills for you, Lieutenant? Diplomacy. And you, for a favor, might name a town for me. Polishing the apple. And why not make this the Einstein Valley, and further over... are you listening, Lieutenant?"

The lieutenant snapped his gaze from the blue colour and the quiet mist of the hills far beyond the town.

"What? Oh, yes, sir!"

[juliasdowntonstuff]

My dearest Darling, chapter 65

It's been a while since I posted on here but I figured with this story drawing to a close that I could just as well start sharing the links here again. (ao3 here)

And, as usual, I will put a sneek peak under the cut :)

The stormy seas outside were very much a reflection of how she felt, and at the same time, they were not at all. Her mind was in uproar. Constantly. Her thoughts were ricocheting in her head just like the waves outside were crashing against the ship's bow.

She couldn't help but keep replaying the last moments she spent with her mother. And strangely, she did not feel anything. Nothing. Just emptiness. Only, she did not want to feel this emptiness, she did not want to feel this numb. She did not want to feel bound to the bed she was in, and yet here she was, in bed at 4 o'clock in the afternoon, with her husband sleeping uneasily next to her, unable to get out of it. The worst of his cold had passed and luckily the worst surges of fever were now behind them, but he was still congested and coughed a lot when awake. It was no wonder to her that even his sleep was this restless. Even so, she did envy him. At least he was able to sleep. It seemed as though sleep had been evading her, and not just since yesterday. She would have to ask Baxter for a sleeping draught when they were back at home, things could not go on like this.

A rattling gasp. And then nothing yet again. How something coming so naturally to people all their lives could become such a struggle was beyond Cora, and seeing it hurt her more than she would have thought. When the next rattled intake of breath did not seem to want to come, she closely watched her and saw the minuscule rising and falling of her chest. The sigh of relief she was about to breathe got stuck in her throat when she saw the pain just simply breathing caused her mother.

Next to her on the bed, Robert tossed and turned in his sleep, fighting the cough stuck in his lungs. She was tempted to reach out and wake him up, to tell him to sit up straight in hopes that this would help him get the coughs out easier. But he was still sleeping, so she let him be.

[natureismynature]

i love your heart pirate sanji series! no pressure for an update, im also a huge qsmp fan and wholeheartedly support this darling tragedy of silly eggs <3 but i also have been thinking abt your fic for the past couple nights, mostly bc of the ending of "broken hearts and missing blues," so- what would happen if doflamingo killed sanji at that moment? right in front of law? like surely he knows blackleg is a heart pirate and maybe he sees some of cora too like law does and kills him more quickly to hurt law?

this does not have to be included in your fic at all! i was just wondering about your thoughts on this because it has been consuming my waking mind. you have such wonderful creations <3

HELLO ANON!!

Funnily enough, I actually started writing the next chapter of BHaMB last week!! I got inspired to continue my work, and so far, so good! So look out for that one! >:D

And to answer your question, if Doflamingo killed Sanji right then and there, you better believe Law would lose all semblance of control, drop everything he planned and worked for just to try and kill Doflamingo too. And I'm not gonna lie, he might die too because of his recklessness and rage. He's already fucked up to begin with during that fight and we all know he's... well... suicidal in the sense that he doesn't care if he dies as long as Doflamingo dies too. So, yeah, it's a pretty depressing outcome if that were to happen ToT

Doflamingo seeing some of Cora in Sanji like Law does though... hmmm 👀 I hope you don't mind if I use this in my fic Anon because I LOVE the idea >:3

Thanks for your patience and support with this fic! The comments never did stop coming and those were the prime reason I even decided to continue. Thank you so much!

[lulubelle814]

Regards, Loki - Chapter 6

Master List

By the time she got home on Friday, she was bone tired.  Barely making it home, she made it to the couch.  She knew there was nothing in the fridge but didn’t have it in her to go get some groceries.  Rather than find a can of soup, she fell asleep on that lumpy sofa.

Waking up in the middle of the night, she had a raging headache.  Between the shitty sofa and the lack of food consumption, it wasn’t surprising.  Prying herself off said couch, she found a can of chili in the kitchen and heated it up while searching for some paracetamol.  When she finally found it, she took an extra pill and drank what felt like a half gallon of water.  Once the chili was ready, she went back to the couch to watch whatever was on TV.  It wasn’t a great night, but she was happy to have a roof over her head.  Snatching her phone out of her purse, she looked to see if she had any messages.  The screen was a little glitchy, but there wasn’t really much she could do about it.  At least it was still working.

After flipping through the channels for a bit, she settled on an old movie.  Once the chili was gone, she put the bowl on the coffee table, pulled a small blanket over herself, and curled up into a comfortable position.  It didn’t take long before she fell asleep.

Waking up at 5 am, she found herself very uncomfortable.  Not only had she fallen asleep in her clothes, she discovered that her phone was more damaged than she realized from being doused in coffee.

On top of it, her phone spit out a number of messages that she should have seen but had just come through.  She had 8 new texts and 2 missed calls.  Unlocking her phone, she saw the 2 missed calls were from Cora.  5 of the texts were from her, asking if she wanted to go out before turning to worried texts, asking if she was ok; however, the other 3 messages were from ‘Loki’.  Most of these texts and calls occurred while she was eating dinner and watching tv, and it infuriated her.

Loki: This dreadful day is finally over.  I hope you have something fun planned for this weekend?

2 hours later

Loki: Are you alright, darling?  You’re usually very responsive.

45 minutes later

Loki: I hope everything is alright.  Please let me know when you get this?

She held a pillow up to her face and screamed into it.  Her crappy phone was well overdue for replacement, but she couldn’t afford an upgrade.  Now with it being coffee damaged as well, she felt like someone was punishing her.  Rather than wait until a ‘reasonable’ hour to text him back (especially as the text might not actually go through), she drafted and sent an email as it would be easier to , assuming he was likely sleeping and would see it when he woke up.  Getting on her laptop and opening her email, she found there was a message from him there as well.

Dear Sigyn,

I have not received any responses to my last few texts, and it has me worried.  I hope you are not hurt or incapacitated.  My fear is that something happened to you, but my logic tries to tell me that maybe you fell asleep early.

If you could let me know once you get this, I would be most relieved to know you are alright as  I have grown fond of our correspondence in the short time we have been ‘talking.’

Regards,

Loki

Her heart fluttered with the knowledge that someone (other than Cora) wanted to ensure she was ok.  Before doing anything else, she responded.

Dear Loki,

I cannot apologize enough for my lack of response.  My boss knocked my drink onto my phone which apparently caused more damage than I thought.  I’ll take it to the shop this weekend to see if they can take a look at it.

I was so exhausted when I got home last night that I fell asleep on my couch.  In fact, I’m still wearing my work clothes from yesterday.  I meant to go shopping after work, but I didn’t have the energy to do so.  I promise I will do so before returning to work Monday morning.

I’m so sorry you had an awful day.  That’s the great thing about weekends though, right?  You have time to rest and relax before starting another work week.

I’m so sorry, again, for my delayed response and hope you can forgive me.

Regards,

Sigyn

Sending off the email, she put a kettle full of water on the stove before going to her room to shed her clothes.  Grabbing a towel, she turned on the shower to the hottest setting she could stand and stepped in.  The water felt incredible on her neck and back, loosening up some of the tight muscles.  Afterwards, she got out, dried off, and put on an oversized shirt and some leggings.  Looking at the clock, it wasn’t even 6 am, and the shops wouldn’t open for a few more hours.

Hearing the whistle of the teapot, she ran back to the kitchen, taking it off the stove.  Grabbing her favorite berry hibiscus tea, she made herself a cup to steep while she grabbed her laptop to map out some places to shop.mmWhen she opened it, there was already a response from him.  Why was he awake so early?  Dammit.  Is he one of those health nut, early morning run kind of guys?

Dear Sigyn,

I must confess I am relieved to hear from you.  I understand the frustrations that come with having an old phone especially when it becomes damaged.  Perhaps you can get a new one?

In fact, I insist on it.  It does you no good to have an unreliable means of communication.  Visit the shop below today and tell them ‘Loki’ sent you.

I know you may call this ‘charity’, but I will be very cross if you turn down my offer.  If anything, you’ll have a better way to communicate with your friends as well as a reliable morning alarm without fear that it did not charge overnight.

He listed a tech store that, thankfully, wasn’t too far.  Googling the address, she found there were also a few shops around that area that she would have to check out.  Why not get everything done in one fail swoop?

Going back to her room, she took a look at her work clothes from yesterday, finding even more holes than it had the day before.  By this point, it couldn’t be salvaged, and she cursed herself for falling asleep in her work clothes.

By the time 9 am finally rolled around, she was on a train to the shops she looked at online earlier.  It was only a 10 minute train ride to get there.  Not wanting to disappoint ‘Loki’, she headed to the tech shop first.  Upon entering, there was a distinct “ding” alerting the workers to her arrival.

“Good morning, miss!  How can I help you find this lovely morning?”  Looking around, she noticed this was one of the nicer electronic stores, not the phones she saw at Tesco.

Turning to the gentleman, she felt awkward.  “I, um, I’m supposed to say that Loki sent me?  I know it sounds ludicrous.”

“Not to worry ma’am.  I have your order ready.  I just need your name for confirmation.”  He was being very professional for what she thought was a very strange situation.  Of course, though, he was paid to be nice.  Since ‘Loki’ was the one to set this up, she gave her screen name, ‘Sigyn.’  Once satisfied, he brought out 2 packages from under the counter, one large and the other small which confused her.

Thankfully, there was a note attached to explain everything.

Dear Sigyn,

I took it upon myself to not only replace your phone but also obtain a new laptop.  If you are having trouble with your phone, I have a feeling your laptop may be in similar shape.  I hope you like what I selected.  If not, please exchange them for what you would like.  The shop has strict instructions to send me the bill should there be any additional cost.

Regards,

Loki

How?  What?  Huh?  No one’s ever done something this kind for her.

Opening the smaller box, she found the newest, top of the line phone, one that she could only dream of.  She just couldn’t believe it!  

“Are you sure this is the right phone?  I didn’t think this had been released yet.”

The clerk looked at the phone and then the notes he received.  “Yes, ma’am.  That’s the correct phone.  It will be released to the public next month, but a few select customers are gaining early access, and ‘Mr. Loki’ asked that you receive the one offered to him.”

He offered to help set up her phone as well as transfer any contacts, files, text messages, etc that she wished to keep.  She didn’t have much.  So it only took a few minutes.  She couldn’t understand why someone would be this generous to someone who wouldn’t offer anything more than conversation.

Once finished, he selected a nice canvas bag to put the computer in as well as the box for her new phone.  “The computer is an easy set up, but if you need help, please come back with your new and old laptops, and I can help with that as well.  Also, should you wish to, you can recycle your old phone for free.”

She nodded and thanked them as she took the bag and walked out of the store.  Thankfully there was a coffee shop across the street where she could order a muffin and drink while trying to calm herself down.  It took about an hour, but she couldn’t get this idea out of her head that he was doing this in order to get something.  Rather than head home to think, she found a bookshop to relax in for a while.

Once settled in a large, comfy chair in the back, she reached out to him.

Loki: The shop let me know you picked up the phone and laptop.  Are they to your liking?

Sigyn: Are you sure about this?  It’s just too much, but they wouldn’t let me leave without them.  

It didn’t take long to receive a response.  

Loki: I am glad to know you received them and that they followed my instructions.

Sigyn: I feel funny accepting these.  My anxiety keeps telling me you want something or will use this against me at some point.

Loki: Your honesty is refreshing.  I assure you, there is no hidden agenda.  I simply wish to take care of my friend.

Sigyn: Thank you so much!

Loki: You are very welcome.  I hope you have a productive shopping day.

[mangokittokatsu]

Hold Me In Your Arms

R my beloved! Our baby Cora getting some much needed comfort, she deserves the world and I adored writing this 🥹 @cradled-r

Cora Vasquez x Reader

WC: 1.3k

Tags: referenced drugging/attempted murder, mild panic attacks, hurt/comfort, fluff

You wake up to rapid knocking on your door, startling you out of your light slumber on the couch, another episode of Kitchen Nightmares playing at a low volume on the TV, autoplaying as you slept. Picking up your phone and seeing the time stare back at you, furrowing your brows together in confusion as the knocking starts back up again. Mumbling to yourself and groaning as you haul yourself off the couch, "I don't know who's waking me up at 2 in the morning but they better have a damn good re-" you cut yourself off as you pull your front door open, blinking in surprise and confusion to reveal your best friend pacing on your doorstep, "Cora? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be on your honeymoon?"

She whips around to look at you, mouth opening and closing, trying to compose her words before the seasoned detective takes a breath and starts rambling, her pacing starting up once again as she does, "Sorry I know tonight's usually your 'sit on the couch drinking wine yelling at reality tv' night and I should be on my honeymoon but-" she stutters over a shaky inhale, "Warren drugged me and tried to kill me before Tony stopped him and I was at TJ's but he went to bed and then I couldn't sleep so I left but I didn't want to be alone and you're the only other person I have and I don't know why I'm here I'm sorry I'm probably bothe-"

"Cora!" You cut her off finally, seeing her breathing pick up with each passing word, "Warren what?" You stared at her in shock and a brief thought of 'oh my god I almost lost her' crosses through your mind, anger creeping through you in waves before her words fully process as you take in her form. She’s almost curled in on herself in vulnerability and she keeps glancing over her shoulder, startling at the noises that come from the street behind her in such an uncharacteristic way before you finally pull her inside and shut the door behind you. You guide her over to the couch and turn on the lamp on the side table, sitting her down and looking her over, hands never leaving her arms as you feel her tremble under your touch. Slowly sitting down next to her and pressing a hand to her chest and guiding one of hers to mirror the placement on your chest, "easy sweetheart, breathe with me, c'mon", you take steady, exaggerated breaths, feeling the tension and anger bleed out of your own body as you hear her ragged, rapid breathing start to even out and her shoulders slowly lose the rigid line they've formed in her anxiety.

She eventually lifts her head to make eye contact with you, her eyes shining with unshed tears before she throws herself forward into your arms as you startle slightly at the sudden uncharacteristic attack of affection when she wraps herself around you and lets out a sob into your neck, "I'm so stupid!" she cries out against your skin. You bring your arms up to wrap around her, grabbing your discarded blanket off the back of the couch in the process and squeezing her tightly as you speak quietly into her ear, "no you aren't darling, he fooled everyone, we all just assumed TJ was being, well, TJ. Warren is the one who's stupid for thinking he'd be able to get away with doing anything to the strongest person I know." She sniffles against your skin at that, "you mean that?" Your heart hurts at how your usually confident best friend sounds so unsure of herself, you know there was nothing she could have truly done to prevent, well, whatever it was that happened. You firmly stroke her back in a soothing motion as you let out a soft sigh, "of course I mean that Cora. Now, do you wanna tell me what happened?” You’re met with silence and a slight shake of her head so you continue, “Or, I can go grab another wine glass, or something stronger, and we can sit here, yell at the TV together, and I can give TJ some... Choice words later to get the details out of him if you'd rather not relive the events so soon." That earns you a wet laugh against your skin, the hot moisture of her breath mixing with the wetness left behind by her tears before she pulls away so you can see her face. her eyes still glistening and nose red as she sniffles and wipes at it, "I don't entirely trust you to not kill him since he obviously told you nothing, but I also just-" she chews on her lip and averts her gaze down, struggling to get the words out. You bring a hand up to rest on her cheek, face etched with gentle concern as you wait.

"Just what, Cora?"

"I just want to be held, please. I don't want my last memory of feeling safe while being held to be with him. I need to feel safe. You make me feel safe."

You feel your heart flutter at the declaration as she flicks her eyes back up to you, a small smile now quirking up the corners of her lips, "besides, I do want to see you yell at Caruso because he should've known better than to not think to update you at all." You know she’s trying to deflect with humor, some of her walls that you had broken down put back up involuntarily as a defense mechanism, an old habit of hers. Knowing her as long as you had, that if you pushed she’d shut down, you let it slide for now as you both let out a giggle at that, just sitting in each other's arms for a moment before she gently nudges you, "Now, I think you mentioned something about yelling at the tv with wine and something stronger? You still have that tequila I gave you for Christmas?"

"Of course I do, I only drink it with you, no one else is allowed to touch it"

"Gettin sentimental over some tequila now are we?"

"Shut up," you roll your eyes at her teasing with a smile before untangling yourself from her as you get up to retrieve another wine glass along with a few larger glasses for the tequila and the random bottle of mixer you had stashed in your fridge. You return to the couch and pour roughly two shots into each glass, pouring the mixer overtop before settling back onto the couch next to her, gathering her up in your arms again after handing her glass to her and turning up the volume on the tv. You give her the rundown on the episode so she knows what’s happening, the two of you yelling at restaurant owners like you know what you’re talking about, bantering with each other without a second thought. You feel her relax into your embrace over the course of the episode and it just felt... right, having her in your arms like this despite the circumstances that led to it. You grab her now empty glass out of her loose grip and carefully lean over to set it on the table next to your own empty one before settling back down and giving her a small squeeze, slightly burying your nose into her hair and breathing in the sweet scent of her hibiscus shampoo and conditioner, feeling your own anxieties at the situation melt away as you have her safe in your arms.

It wasn't the right time to bring it up of course, but maybe almost losing her would give you the confidence to tell her how you feel. How you have felt for months now, about how your feelings of friendship for your closest confidant had grown into something more, something you wanted to share with her and feel forever. But for now you were more than happy to sit here, feeling her chest rise and fall with each breath. All her anxieties flowing out of her as she finally feels exhaustion take over, a mumbled "thank you" flows past her lips as she drifts off to sleep against you, a slight smile lingering on her face even while she rests, feeling safe at last.

[atonalginger]

I'm Your Huckleberry, Final Update!

Howdy y'all and happy Friday! We did it, we made it through the party and now it's time for the adults to have some fun! Will the universe let them have the evening to unwind? (we all know the answer to that is no)

This story was an idea that's been percolating in my head since spring and I've been chipping away with, with far more revisions and restructuring than most of my stories to find the balance of angst and comfort I felt was needed. Hopefully I pulled it off.

To hop in at Chapter 13 and read the last two chapters you can click HERE!

To start from the very beginning you can click here.

And as always, a snippet under a read more:

“Becker’s supposed to be getting the crew out of the telegraph station,” Bog mentioned, “Shinya spotted some vials on feed that shouldn’t be here.”

“It was inevitable,” Delgado shrugged, “anyone go with our snake kisser?”

Jamie slowly turned to look at him, surprised not at what he said, she had known Becker’s family worshiped the Great Serpent for most of her life, but that he knew at all. Becker was tight lipped about their faith, only sharing it with a rare few people.

He smiled at her, clicking his glass with hers before taking a sip and answering her unspoken question, “they’re addicted to jumping. Physically can’t stand staying in the same system for more than a few days.”

“Plenty of adrenaline junkies stay on the move,” Jamie countered.

“How many of those junkies keep shines to the Great Serpent on their ships?” Delgado leaned forward, “had enough snake kissers in the fleet to know the signs.”

“Wrecker went with Becker,” Bog chuckled at the rhyme, “said he was going to knock the dingbats’ heads together before banishing them to a ship for the night.”

“Good,” Delgado raised his glass to Bog, “you taking care of yourself?”

“Nursing a beer,” Bog smiled, “it’s been a good day.”

“That it has,” Jamie raised her glass.

There was a commotion outside in the direction of the ships. Shouting no one in the saloon could make out over the music and chatter of the party. Fox made a face and ticked his tongue, clearly assuming his deputy was involved.

“Someone tell them to keep it down,” Delgado pointed with his glass never leaving his hand, the brown liquor splashing up the side, “if any of them wake up the kids Bella will have their fucking hides.”

Through the windows Jamie thought she saw Cora and Manny hustling toward the ships. She frowned and put her glass down, wondering what those two were up to at this hour. Maybe Samina and Daiyu had sent the pair to quiet the zoned pirates but something gnawed at her, telling her that wasn’t the case. Fox shared a look with her, letting her know he too felt it. Something was wrong. Wrong enough to tickle the precognition gift the artifacts gave her. Her stomach went sour and her lower lips started to ache, Jamie reflexively sucking on it to sooth the pain of a phantom injury.

Bella stepped out of the saloon with Rokov as the shouting got worse, a few stray Spanish curses from Manny cutting through. Delgado slammed his glass down on the counter and bolted for the door without a word, a fire in his eyes as he turned to leave. 

“Well…that’s bad,” Bog said. He reached under the bar and killed the music before tossing his rag onto the counter and turning for the side door, “Shinya, what’s going on out there?”

From the small back office Shinya answered calmly, “Four newcomers. Landed as Wrecker was stuffing our zoned darlings onto their ship for the night. Old man with a cane and a lady on his arm plus a younger couple. Soon as Becker saw them they started shouting. Looks like when the kids got to the gate the younger couple lost their shit and Manny responded in kind.”

“Fuck,” Fox pushed off his stool, “it’s them.”

[enigma-absolute]

13 and 3 for the ask game, perhaps??

3. What tropes do you like writing about the most? (´▽`ʃƪ)

That's honestly a good question, now that I look over my works, both original and fic. I think the thing that crops up the most in both sections is legacy - legacy characters, roles and how we all deal with it and inherit it. I think it really comes from my own experience of being the first freeborn daughter of two different families who escaped Communist Romania prior to the revolution, and the struggles they had to get their freedom. It gives me a lot to think on family legacy in my case, both ancestral and more personal, as I have found myself associating with my mom's inheritance more than I could my dad's.

In the Eagle's Cross Eddsworld universe, Cora and her siblings in the titular series have different ways of reacting to and embracing their ancestors' adventurous, if admittedly outlandish, histories and personalities. In 'The Christmas Calamity,' Jaxx (one of the main characters) is first trying to outright refuse it, but eventually comes to fall in love with it on his own terms and terms he has to redefine. Cora herself in 'The Eagle's Cross' has still to unravel some (honestly very opaque) mysterious past with her ancestors and dragging in her little sister and her own best friend into it.

In my own original detective show, the main detective and her 'Watson' partner are chasing after her hero's own mysteries to solve and eventually have to come up and fight against his enemies; leading the way to find out that her hero's adventures, mysteries and stories entwine closely to her own history and potentially taking up the mantle he sacrificed to save her life.

With Maddox Darling and his adventures in the Galaxy Far Far Away, it's more subtle. The Peter Pan references and links are on purpose, but they're not direct or in-your-face (his surname, the pin he constantly wears from his sister, etc). That being said, while he does have Peter Pan tendencies, his role is more of a Wendy Darling situation, honestly. He'll grow up eventually, but it doesn't mean he'll forget his loves nor stop adventuring. His legacy is more about what he leaves behind on the galaxy's inhabitants circa the Imperial and Rebellion era, but also the kind of legacy they leave on him and how he'll eventually take it home. That's why I love doing RP with him, because he's literally quite a character to Throw Into Situations and I'm figuring out his canon as I go along.

13. Drop a playlist for a story! ♪♡♪

Speaking of Maddox, here's his (slightly old) origin story playlist! I'd crafted it when I was very early on in writing him and did it as part of a character challenge to develop him a little more, so I'll be explaining songs in chapters under the cut.

Life in Aus before the GFFA: Down Under by Men at Work and Slice of Heaven by Dave Dobbins

Going to the GFFA: Starlight Brigade by TWRP feat. Dan Avidan

Settling into the Rebellion and Rebel Life: Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede

Infiltrating the Ship and Imperial Capture: Last Surprise (Cover by Arc Tournament, feat Casey Lee Williams), Eide+Eide Fight (NITW OST)

The Amnesia Process: The Mind Electric by Miracle Musical, Unknowable (NITW OST)

Waking up, Wrecking up and Escaping the Empire's ship, Roaming After the Escape Pod Crash: Black (Homestuck cover by RichaadB), Run! (NITW OST), Radioactive by Imagine Dragons

Reaching through the Force and Recovering Memories: Thirteen (Doctor Who OST, Series 11)

Back to the Rebel Base and Into Regret (I Should Never Have Left Home): Shut Eye by Stealing Sheep, Timshel by Mumford and Sons, I Was Wrong by The Oh Hellos

Amnesia Aches, Grief with Benny and Learning to Grow: Ghost by Ellie Drennan, The Doctor’s Theme (Doctor Who OST, Series 1-2), I Have Made Mistakes by The Oh Hellos

Call to Hope and Adventure Once Again, To Be Continued (I Will Remember and Grow as I Go): And Straight On Till Morning by Marianas Trench, Binary Sunset (A New Hope OST, particularly the horns at the dual suns), Call Me (Cover by Sebastian Böhm)

[watch-you-tear-yourselves-apart]

"Death threats. How adorable." Cora chuckled and didn't seem too bothered. "I'm not the one who poisoned the queen darling. Alina did." Still she shrugged before sitting down.

"My daughter will wake up on her own soon. Binding her magic drained her energy."

"Making it right"

Nsfw

@onceandfutureevilqueen

"You're not supposed to." Regina said with a chuckle.

"My mother has had her heart removed for decades."

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Ya'll sent me your fav spoopy fics. Enjoy!

Anon

Spell It Out For Me by Chubstilinski

(1/1 I 14,766 I Explicit I Sterek)

But now Stiles was, well. He was fat. Not extremely so, just a little chubby, really, but it was exaggerated, every curve highlighted by the tightness of clothes made for a slender body. His Clark Kent slacks clung to thick thighs and cut into his hips. A substantial belly and small muffin top spilled over the waistband, stretching the buttons on his clean shirt. Derek could see the swell of his chest where the Superman logo peeked out from the undone top buttons, and he felt like he was going crazy. Stiles was gorgeous.

Or, on Halloween, Stiles gets jinxed by a hoodoo practitioner into gaining weight very rapidly. Derek thinks it's sexy. Stiles thinks Derek is sexy. Shenanigans ensue.

Hallow’s Warmth by raisesomehale 

(1/1 I 68,023 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek and Cora own the little coffee shop downtown, Stiles is the regular and talkative client that Derek may or may not be infatuated with, and the cold weather is extremely inconvenient considering it dusts Stiles’ cheeks with a rosy shade of red and causes his breath to frost over in white puffs whenever he laughs.

Pining and Halloweenie things ensue.

@emeraldvssilver

Dead Things by standinginanicedress

(6/6 I 89,100 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek blows some more smoke out. He chooses to look at Stiles’ mouth instead of in his eyes, again. “I need you to bring someone back.”

“Back.”

“From the dead.”

“Absolutely not,” Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. “Not for you, not for all the money in the world.”

Derek looks at him, just looks. He is not going to accept no for an answer, and Stiles knows it, but it doesn’t matter, because Stiles will not do that. He cannot do that, not again. “Why not for me in specific?”

Darling, Dearest, Dead by standinginanicedress

(1/1 I 42,218 I Explicit I Sterek)

“It’s October first.”

“So it is.”

Stiles taps his chin a bit dubiously, and then sips his pumpkin spice nice and slow, as if he’s considering all his possibilities. Across the room, an old man frowns at the two of them sitting there – maybe because they’re homos, or maybe because Stiles is the local witch doctor. Either way, Stiles pays it no mind and simply winks in the old man’s direction before turning his eyes back onto Derek. “My witchy powers are in full force in this dark month.”

“Can’t we just carve pumpkins and put decorations up like everyone else?”

@snarkatthemoon

How Many Pumpkins Is Too Many Pumpkins? by snarkatthemoon

(1/1 I 12,547 I Mature I Sterek)

"Wake up," Stiles says, and places a kiss behind Derek's ear. "My birthday is over, and Halloween season has officially begun. I've booked the pumpkin patch for eleven."

Derek's happy, barely-awake rumbles abruptly stop, his body stiffening. He rolls over slowly, then blinks at Stiles, his eyes crusty with sleep. "What."

"Pumpkins, Derek," Stiles says. "We need to get there early or all the good ones will be gone. This house is huge, so we're probably going to need at least twenty to sufficiently decorate—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Derek says, sitting up in bed suddenly, a look of abject horror on his face. "Who said anything about pumpkins, or decorating?"

"Uh, me," Stiles tells him, rolling his eyes. "There's only two weeks until Halloween. I want this place to look like Satan's grotto by the time we’re done with it. Realistically, how many pumpkins do you think you can carve in an afternoon. Eight? Ten?"

.

Or, the one where Stiles is stupidly excited for Halloween, and Derek...isn't. Oh, and they may accidentally adopt a cat to which Stiles is also stupidly excited, and Derek...isn't.

AND

@dragonsandwolvesohmy suggested these!

build your bones by pineneedlepants

(2/2 I 15,042 I Explicit I Sterek)

There’s something acid twisting in Stiles’ scent as he keeps staring at Derek, awkward silence surrounding them. Derek can practically see the gears turning inside Stiles’ head as he comes to his conclusions.

‘’Not a faulty wiring then, huh. Hunters?’’

Derek gives one sharp nod.

‘’The ones after you now?’’

Another sharp nod.

‘’Well, shit,’’ Stiles says, and Derek sees his face widening into a feral grin. ‘’If they ever cross me and mine,’’ he says with dark glee, ‘’they’ll be so fucking sorry for all of their life choices. I can promise you that.’’

Devil in the Details by Accidental_Ducky

(8/8 I 26,473 I Mature I Sterek)

“So we’ll split up.”

“Baby,” Boyd says, taking her arm in a gentle hold,” that is the single whitest sentence to ever leave your mouth. Splitting up to search for a crazed murderer with no moral compass is a job better left to the police. I say we go upstairs, barricade the basement door closed and hangout in the lobby until help shows up.”

“Derek found a way to break out of a sealed chamber and you think shoving a desk in front of a wooden door will keep him from using our skin as lampshades?”

“I never should have let you watch American Horror Story. Our lives have just gone downhill since then.” Boyd runs a hand over his mouth, scratching absently at the stubble along his jaw before heaving out a sigh. “Fine, we’ll go look for Hale, but we’re sticking together. I’m not about to be the token black guy that gets butchered in some kind of cheesy nineties horror flick.”

[adoracora-elizabeth]

But Papa! Why? Chapter 28

Robert was staring at the ceiling. Rosamund and Marmaduke had stayed for dinner, they had only just left. As soon as they left the house, Cora had gone upstairs. She did not offer to help him to bed. He had to admit, it was not necessary anymore, but he loved how caring Cora was during their night ritual.

He had been a real prick to her today. He knew that she did not deserve that treatment from him. It was not her fault he was still restricted in what he could do. It was not her fault Marmaduke was faster with asking Rosamund’s hand. To be fair, they knew each other before he knew Cora. He just had hoped to be further in the relationship with Cora.

He turned on his side, something that he could finally do, after weeks of lying on his back. Was he honest now? Was their relationship that shallow? Cora had stayed with him here in Downton. Something she had no obligation to, but she had not even considered going back to London and let him fend for himself. There had been no talk about his own family coming to Downton to help him. Or even worse, hiring staff. No, Cora had stayed with him, she even asked Baxter to come and work in Downton for the time being. Why did he react his anger at Cora, instead of himself?

Robert turned back on his back. The first thing he would do tomorrow morning was apologising to her. She had looked so lost when she went up to bed. What if she decided that she did not want to be with him anymore? He gave her enough reason for it today. He felt his heart racing at the thought he could lose his darling Cora.

Quickly he got up from the bed, which resulted in him grabbing a nearby chair because he got dizzy. He was going to talk to her right now. She deserved his apology now, not in the morning. He had not walked up the stairs yet, but if he took it step by step, he should be able to go to her room.

Once he was upstairs, he needed a minute to catch his breath. The pain in his leg was almost unbearable, but he ignored it. It would go away, it was the same pain he felt after walking too far or too fast. Dr. Clarkson had warned him about it and said it was normal.

What room would she be in? He did not know, there were several bedrooms on this floor. What if he walked into Baxter’s room?

At random he opened a door. The room was empty. It wasn’t until the third door that he saw a bed with a sleeping woman in it. He had to look carefully to see if it was Cora, but then he saw her bathrobe and knew it was the right room. He walked to the bed as quietly as he could. Cora was snoring softly. She had tied her wild curls in a braid. The covers had fallen off of her, her pyjama shirt was half open and he could see her perfectly shaped breast. His whole body reacted and he found it hard not to dive on top of her. Instead, he carefully sat down next to her and pulled the duvet up over her shoulder.

Cora moaned and curled herself up under the duvet. Robert sat and stared at her. Her face was relaxed and she had an angelic look over her. It was a relief that she had fallen asleep. He would have felt even more guilty if she had still been awake. He did not want to wake her, but he had to if he wanted to apologise. Maybe he should wait until the morning, as was his first plan.

He was trying to get up from the bed when he felt Cora’s hand against his back.

“What are you doing upstairs?” Her sleepy voice sounded.

Robert turned back to face her. “I need to apologise, I have been a real jerk today.”

“Robert, it is late.” Cora sounded annoyed. “Please go back to sleep.”

He was not sure what to do. He understood why Cora reacted the way she did. She had every right to be angry. It was better to just listen and try again tomorrow. He got up and walked towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Cora now sounded surprised.

Robert turned around, he saw Cora sitting up. “Back to bed. We will talk in the morning.”

“You know that this is a king-size bed, don’t you? Do not act stupid and come sleep next to me. You are upstairs already.” Cora pulled the duvet back.

Robert got back to the bed and laid down. Cora immediately turned back on her side, facing away from him. He tried turning on his side, but his leg and arm hurt him, so he turned back.

He lay there for a very long time, again staring at the ceiling. His mind did not stop, he was allowed in the bed with Cora, which was a good sign. But the fact she turned to face away from him was not. How was he going to make her come back to him? He messed up, really messed up.

“Stop worrying and close your eyes,” Cora said while turning to her other side. She folded her hands under her pillow.

Robert let out a sigh and did as she said. However, he knew it would not make any difference, sleep would not come.

He felt the bed move and Cora’s hand slid over his stomach. She laid her head on his arm, hesitant Robert wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “We will talk in the morning. Can you now please go to sleep, it was a long and tiring day for you.” Cora angled her face upwards. “I know you are desperate to feel one hundred per cent yourself again and it is upsetting you that it is taking this long. I had hoped you would not direct your anger at me, but I guess it is the safest place. Now let it rest, I need to get up early and would like to get some more sleep.”

He felt her getting up and pressing her lips against his cheek. Another deep sigh escaped him, but this time it was from relief.

[requiem-if]

This looks really good! The premise and the characters all seem really interesting. I can't wait to see all of what you have in store for the story.

If it's ok, can I ask for how the characters would react if the MC fell asleep with their head on the RO's shoulder while in the crushing stage?

Thank you so much ❤️

Lucifer: At the feel of your body pressing against theirs a devious smile flits across their face; internally rejoicing at what you closeness could mean for the rest of their night. However, when they turn their head and see your slumbering form, all of those thoughts flee at the peaceful expression grows on your face. A look, that they’d heatedly deny giving, filled with adoration etching itself on their face. “This isn’t what I meant about getting closer, darling.” They wrap their arm securely around your form and pull you closer; their cheek lightly resting on the top of your head. “But this will do.”

Gabriel: Startled, Gabriel shifts their gaze from the TV and expect to see yours staring back; instead they’re surprised to see the top of your head. Deep, even, breaths ghosting across their shoulder as you nuzzle closer in your slumber. The sight causes their heart to skip a beat as a gentle smile grows across their lips. One hand raising to tentatively touch your cheek— in a way they’d never do if you were awake— as their smile only grows that much wider at the feeling. “Maybe one day, dearest one.”

Syrus/Selene: A grunt escapes their mouth at the feel of your head on their shoulder; their eyes remaining glued to the screen of their laptop as they nudge you off of them. Though they try to ignore why it was that they reacted in a gentler way than normal. “I’m not a pillow,” they say in response to the stare they can feel you giving them. “If you’re that tired why don’t you go to bed? It’ll let me be able to stretch out my legs.”

Cole/Cora: “You need to wake up,” they softly murmur— as they had automatically went into protective mode the moment your head touched their shoulder— with a soft look on their face. One hand gently touching your other shoulder as they try their best not to jostle you too much. “You’ve been working too much. I think this is a perfect place to leave off for the morning. Maybe we can get Morningstar to do some of it too.”

Nathan/Natasha: Bolting upright the moment your head hit their shoulder, they immediately feel horrible at the surprised look that greeted them when they turned back around. Their lips quirking into a half hearted smile as their hands fidget at their sides. “I’m sorry,” they murmur. “I wasn’t expecting you to touch me and I got startled. If you’re that tired maybe we should call it a night? I wouldn’t want you to get bad sleep because of me.”