#good and bad are for fairytales this is shades of grey people

[ionlylikemycat]

i don’t know how many different ways a person has to say it but uh,

being anti zionist is not automatically antisemitic

you can be anti zionist without being antisemitic

anti zionism and antisemitism are not the same

every anti zionist isn’t antisemitic

you can be an anti zionist jew

[littlecarjaflame]

And because I am apparently not done with Andor:

It takes balls to take a franchise, which is quite literally based on people being either on the “good” or the “bad” side with no middle ground, put up your middle finger and writing a show based on each and every character* from the protagonist to the villain being morally grey*. True, some of them are darker shades of grey than others, but even characters like Dedra or Syrill are at least understandable. You have met them before.

And finally, here is a show (not just in Star Wars franchise, but in general), which treats its viewers like adults. It trusts you to pick up at nuances, to understand what’s going on without the characters having to explain themselves every five minutes, it trusts you to make your own opinion.

So, in a way, I understand why people are saying this does not feel like Star Wars. Good and evil does not wield color-coded weapons. Temptation does not come in a form of a shrivelled guy on the throne hissing promises. If that’s what you want, I don’t blame you, we all sometimes need a fairytale story where the lines are drawn clearly and we don’t have to face the murky, confusing reality of the adult world. If the orginial trilogy or the prequel trilogy were your childhood and you just want to keep revisiting them, they didn’t go anywhere, they are not ruined by new content.

But if the orginial trilogy or the prequel trilogy were your childhood and you feel like growing up, Andor is here.

It even says it outright. When you are a kid, you need clear distinctions, defined rules, you need your “do or do not”. But as an adult, you know that sometimes the keyword is “try”.

*With the expection of the torture doctor. Yeah, that guy’s evil.

[spoopyyaoikingdom]

Oo oo I wanna add onto this with my own more realistic headcanons. So im gonna use urs as a prompt. Uhhh just to initially say I dooo love ur ideas and tons of ur writing. So dont think this is me critisizing it. I just agree with some and disagree with others and wanna like yes and it a bit and wanna share my thoughts but its a lot for the comments section! Okay disclaimer out the way!

I read and watch LOTS of hero stuff. Superhero and others like rise of the guardians, dcu, mcu, tmnt and otherwise. Videos, fics, tumblr posts, art and so on. So ill go off of something like the realistic side of heroes Ive seen and read about. Cuz a lot of these are good points but for how I think heroes are its a lil on the darker side. And not as hopeful? I dont wanna say pessimistic as thats not a good word but its not a fairytale. Oh black and white would work well.

Its more black and white abt it and veey very one sided. Which makes sense at the start but not with their relationship prgressing. Which can still have fun but yea. So ill do dark like you but a bit more shades of grey and going with how actual maybe first responders or ptsd esque or superhero shoes show romance.

Also im imagining tmnt all media personalities but im using mainly bayverse for physical. And some 2k12 stuff as I know those 2 best. Sorry for grammar issues. Im bad at it, trying my best and on mobile. Okay okay enough explaining sorry.

- I agree that master splinter would probably not agree. Maybe like you and so on but not agree. I think though less for just thats not what he taught them and I feel doesnt agree with them dating period. Like overprotective dad energy and thinking even if a breakup is mutual. He wouldnt want his sons to have to deal with that when they already have to deal with a lot being giant turtles. Or ever worry about if is it cuz they cant do this or that or etc. Also that itd be hard to date again since their pool of ppl close to them is small.

- Totally agree with you cant parade him around and show him off for sure.

- Definitely cant tell anyone abt him at all. Prolly ever. If at least for their own safety or cuz their not comfortable with itm Maybe you and him could talk about it. I knw for a fact my friends and family is small. Like 3 or 4 ppl really. And theyd have no issue with a lsrge mutant and stay quiet. But id never wanna tell anyone if they arent comfy and the more people knw the more people can slip.

I do think though u can say your dating. Or wear a ring and say your married. You dont wanna deal with people trying to hit on you or ask you out. If they do. Also talk abt them a lil. Id talk to them abt it firat but make a pseudonym and use the barest most basic info just for when people ask. Like: oh no they have a medical condition and have to stay at home, they love (reading, action movie, tech hobby, art, cooking, calligraphy), theyre the kindest man ive ever met and Ilove how they look at me the same way. Etc. Basic bish info type thing snd if they press for more like: Oh no we dont rlly discuss our relationship outside. We arent the kiss and tell or pda type, we prefer our privacy. Etc and block them full boundary if they bug you. The ring could be a promise ring simce marriage is on records. Etc. So on and so forth. So you hopefully at least dont have to deal with dating or questions or etc.

You could even say they travel overseas or something or its long distance. Any idea tht means no you wont see them and no i dont care if u want to.

- understandable about date nights not being formal but (for me) i prefer being inside anyway. Id prolly order take out to a usual drop spot they use etc and get pizza for them to and we can cuddle on the couch with netflix.

As for the date nights few and far between from what i know of tmnt stuff they regularly go out or do things on their own seperately. Especially raphael has constantly gone out on his own. Maybe not all the time but enough. So there could def be date nights scheduled and even just be stuff a lil before or wake up early to be after patrol. Or they can come by and u leave a window open so they can wake u. Might scare the daylights outta ya the first few times but ud get used to it. All about compromise and effort.

- his duty as ninja and protector. I think this is unbalanced. I feel like at first it would definitely be that way. But usually not everyone can stay black and white abt it as they come to care for someone. Theyd want to spend time with them and hang out and enjoy company. Still watch the city but even people like batman makes time and would at least be torn abt picking between you and them.

(Now its a 2 way street of course, theres two sides as a good boy/girl/friend/ partner. Would make it easier and tell them its okay to raincheck and so on and so forth and give them space for the both of us to make a rhythm. Vigilantism does not help dating life whether ur a turtle or not. Especially dating a civilian. But it has and can be done if both parties work at it)

- his lovw for his brothers and dad before u is a no brainer. I feel like even with april and casey theyd be torn or go straight to their brother. And a good friend/partner would understand that. They lived and known each othwr their whole lives. <3 no matter how much raph grumbles he adores them (like at the end of the first bayverse movie when their falling). Plus evidence of even mikey losing heart at friends nd family dying. And people like danny phantom going evil cuz of it. The struggles Batman has for his robins/kids or the city etc etc. Even if its life or death.

So it should definitely be something thats talked about together at some point.

- the brothers not approving. Ahhhh from how we seen how the act in all media. Itd be partially that, maybe a lil jealous at whoever got a date first as well (they are teenage boys who dream of being "normal" sometimes) i think Raph would be a bit jealous but hide it as snarking and or leo would be a teensy jealous but act dissapointed cuz he knws they "shouldnt date" for their own safety and their partners. But every single last one of them has had crushes on people and probably talk to each other about it or something.

And all of them have gone on what ifs (definitely when younger) for how theyd be for dating someone. Or who theyd wanna date. Hell considering hie they sneak off sometimes they could even end up in a secret relationship or an online one etc. The more you integrate in and get close to them. The more i think unlike splinter, theyd see how happy their brother is and be happy for them to. Mikey qnd donnie i feel would be the least judgemental about it. Especially mikey.

- bumping into things is par for the course. Whatever version u think of, if its not the height and sheer muscles and size of them its their shells being in small spaces, or their tails etc. Or maybe trip ok somethjng if its smaller then them and they dont see it. And etc like a bull in a china shop. They can be delicate but still lol

- for the dump thing. Well plenty of humans are like that. Either smell or size wise. I had a gross ass dad (didnt deserve the title rlly) and at the least it stank to hell. Now Im not gokna say they can use a toilet but THEY can at least be the one to fix the issue if needed. Since they did it. (Or call donnie/ raph to come by who are mr fix its lol) and spray febreeze well actually. No their noses would be sensitive, open a window and maybe a timed spray option or beg donnie for a remote control lil spray. They can close the door after them and press the button and bam. Now not a 1000 chemicals shoved in their sensitive noseys or subjecting their partner to nose burns as well lol.

You will have to be the one that gets extra toilet paper though. Or I also have a method i just basicslly hand bidet and towel when necessary. (My grandma was from santo domingo and she showed me. Its basically judta cup of water or sopay water and u pour it and wipe yourself clean. Rinse. Towel. Bam, handmade bidet lmao)

Edit extra: also i bet theyd be so shy or nervous about saying they did. Id be a lil disgruntled but sigh and just get something else to go in while i wait. Like whenever my "dad" did stuff id go to mamas room and shed have a bucket. I realize its odd nowwww but shes from an island so i just learned after her. Its no big deal and then u just toss it in the toilet after its fixed and flush. Add some bleaxh and water to it to soak in the bathroom and all done. No different then a long road trip or going in the woods. Better then the woods really. Who wants to get the plants close to their tush? Not me =.= OR you could also just walk over to a neighbor (if ur friendly with one) qnd ask to go there or a shop nearby. (If anyones awake or open at night that is)

- buying him clothes in right size, damn near impossible. True. I dont think im a seamstress and not everyone would be but I have come up with a few ideas at least to get them cute shirts. Basically modifying them to tie behind the neck and under the shell (wherever the hell the pants go to) or a large elastic band at the bottom around their waist. Or the bottom can just loosely hang under the shell and keep going like a ling shirt.

Also if none of thats possible, accessories. Even if they dont wear them often im sure theyd love u buying them things just cuz. Cute bracelets, headbands, ankle stuff, body jewelry (if one can fit), cute knick knacks for their room, charms, posters or gifts for them etc etc etc. And mikey at least wears hoodies around his waist. Soo~ and cloaks could fit to. Maybe. Trial and error :D

Id personally lean into my crafting even more, art, paint, crochet, embroidery etc. Make them monogrammed towels or paint their shell and they can paint you back. Etc all kinds of bonding stuff u can do. Similar to buying clothes.

But finding right size off the rack? Yea no thats near impossible. Shoes to, tho again if u get crafty u can knit them socks.

Bonus: arts and crafts bonding eith raph (who knits in bayverse) and Mikey (whos usually shown to be artistic/creative in general).

Hell even donnie and leo, donnie with his tech maybe you can buy models to do together. And leo with cslligraphy, he could show you how to do it. Or they two of you can try to learn different font styles together. Or like tea ceremonies to get accessorized and dress up for.

I kinda turned this into bonding in general to but i hope u get the idea.

- the kiss: no notes, just facts. Lmao it will be weird. And depending on the version of the turtles they dont technically have lips sometimes. But possible. Tons of size difference people. But oof yea no its gonna be akward and shy and so on.

- s*x: no notes. Its true. Will be weird. Especially if they have turtle d!cks. Which i imagine they do cuz cme on now how could they not. Itd at MINIMUM be internal and shaped a teensy bit different if not very different from a human.

Me tho: this isnt an issue im john constantine levels of monsterf^cker extraordinaire. (Tho i prefer exoph!lia for sentient sapient beings like mutant turtles. Its not so. Rude sounding since its for any alien or non human entity rather then just callin them a monster. Their d!ck though? Naw that THATS a monster omg)

But whether you can physically take it or not theres a TON of other stuff you can do. Im not gonna get into it in this post. Maybe in the comments if anyone wants to knw but im not having my post deleted cuz of idiot tumblr. Sigh. But no theres definitely a bunch of stuff you can do together either way.

- size and strength adjustment in general (especially bayverse those giant adorable bara bastards): Facts. Total facts. They should have more practice thanks to knwing casey and april but thats different then cuddling. Trial and error. Be prepared to be accidentally squooshed sometimes on accident or to have the mosr geather light touch that it tickles and feels irritating (ooo feathery touch makes my skin jump in a not good way. Like stuff crawlin on u) like your glass. But be patient their learning. You to will figure a rhthym (superman did).

Also would in fact have fun holding they stuff they made for themselves (omg its so big) and or giving them "Normal sized things" to see how adorable and cute it is in their palms/hands lmao. I cannot get over donnie holding that tiny juice box in bayverse.

- you can not and will not go on patrol with him: ah. I dont disagree just on delivery. If you met him and your both fighters you could prolly go, if u get a mask for ur safety. If your a civilian well, april is a civilian and she somwtimes goes on patrol. Same wirh casey, he was literally dude/kid with a. Hockey stick.

At minimum theyd definitely make you do training and etc. But this also doesnt take in fact if you WANT to go on patrol with them. I personally wouldnt mainly cuz im a homebody. But i would wanna learn to defend myself if nescessary or to not be useless ina. Fight. Also would prolly buy a gun or tazer to use on people and so one. Plentt of people (in these universes) become vigilantes so on and so forth. Id also prolly ask for basic medical training. Nothing donnie level just enough to change a bandage or know how bad a bruise is etc (especially if anyone hides an injury, cough, looking at raph cough)

He cannot and will not give details about patrol: ahhh thats definitely an ehhh situation to me. I feel like (this is where ptsd and first responders comes in) maybe at first their wary, then eventually dont wanna worry you. And/or also, it went bad and they dont wanna talk about it. They would talk abt it otherwise or maybe just mention how good they did in general. But the closer you get the more they tell you or if they would like comfort or cry abt something. So on.

- master splinter limiting time in the lair in the beginning makes sense but i feel like thatd change over time. Especially if the other option is the boys (impulsive sweeties they are. Especially raph) sneaking out to your place and or staying the night/day cuz they wouldnt get back on time. (Rarely patroling in day time tho its happened. Like im bayverse)

Because again as the relationship progresses theyd wanna see you when they can. Cuz they are sweet in the inside. As well as maybe another place thwy can run to for alone time or time away from the brothers and gang. They love each other but ooowee a new place to hide and not be bothered and/or spend time with their new relationship? Fucking score.

- april and casey coming first makes sense. Especially in the beginning. Theyre their first outside friends. Thats a big ass bond. I feel at most tht evevntually youd be mor equal but its like if someone calls abt your best friend since childhood getting in a car accident. Tht comes before a date and a good partner would knw april and casey are at minimum basically family. (Especially in bayverse since she apparently bloody saved AND named them even if the boys didnt/dont remember)

- no store bought gifts: I feel like itd be rare. Clearly they get money somehow and buy pizza and so on. I feel like depending how much they get and the time period (in case things can be delivered to an address) is what determines this. Plus april and casey could totally be told/asked for help to buy things. Im sure they already do help.

- Secret relationship: depending how you met. Yea i can say for sure theyd do it secret from their families at first for reaskns i listed before. And also to just have some time themselves with you without their siblings butting into it.

I am aromantic and grey ace but im a homebody. I dont rlly go looking for people. If i met one of them, romantically or plantonically id at least not be doin other people along with them.

I also do sort of love t cest stuff and hinestly wouldnt mind being with any of them/ all of them truly. Tho i think id be most compatible with donnie and mikey. Mikey especially being my crush since i was a kid. Sweet lil adorable goof of a goober. I just wanna snuggle him in blankets and have snacks all the timeee....honestly for people like donnie and mikey even if its never romantic like that to me id stay with them forever.

Ronance to me is the exact same as a platonic relationship. Ive never gotten feelings or anything thats different but i love all my friends and tell them so. Dates is just hanging out and having fun and FWB is emphasis on friends. Id wanna help them and be close. Maybe it sounds odd. I am a romcom lover. But its just.

Being friends +. And again OMG mikey is such a cutey patootie ahhh. Relationship of any kind is compromise and learning about each other. And Id be fine with being Queer Platonic Soulmates with someone like mikey or donnie. Donnie also a cutie patootie. Those adorable glasses and tht cute lil snort laugh (i do the same thing) and our interests align as i live art and i love coding (baby at it and prefer front end design.)

We could have a ton and i mean a TON of fun the 3 of us. :D

(Also not the reason but i also love the b team trope tht came up in 2012 especially whwre donnie and mikey are very close actually and raph and leo are closest. Use to be more equal as kids but Donnie getting more into texh and Mikey into his art made them a lil.... hbnnm. Anyway im sure u knw the trope..

Id be with them regardless if they wanted to but yea.)

Wed get along like peas in a pod. :D

End notes: almost same as in comments:

I hope u like it. OP. and yea i read a lot of fanfics. Ive thought about it in various ways a ton before this. Including more onesided ones where its more them vs you then you and them together sutuations.

I just wanted to make one tht sounded realistic but less one sided. As a relationship is a 2 way street. And ur amazing post gave me so many ideas and thoughts i wanted to share! :D

I made the ideas a bit darker to as ive been reading a lot of dp x dc crossover stuff and some heart wrenchings posts for some and wholesome af for others. So i was like. Bet lets go.

Bayverse TMNT head cannons that no one asked for. 👹

Listen, and I myself have been guilty of it, we all have over romanticized the boys and we do it all to often because we come here for, what we each believe that is, a perfect world. But let’s just back up a moment and think about it logically… if logic applies when it comes to walking, talking turtles. How would it really be if you met and happen to fall in love with one of the turtles? In reality? Let’s dig into it.

Master splinter may show you kindness and may even favor you, but he will never agree with one of his sons having a relationship. It’s against everything he has taught them and that will never change. It also puts his entire family at risk whether you like it or not.

You will never be able to introduce him to your family or friends. Again they work in the shadows for a reason. You can not simply parade your boyfriend around nor show him off.

You can not tell a soul about him or that you’re even dating him. In fact you can’t tell anyone you’re dating at all unless you want to lie about it and compromise his position.

He can’t take you on dates. Well… not normal or formal ones. Although he can get creative in his own way. But date night is few and far between because he has the city to protect.

His duty as a ninja and a protector of the city will always come before you.

His love for his brothers and father also come before you.

His brothers, much like splinter, don’t approve of your relationship for the same reasons. It compromises their most powerful weapon… secrecy.

He’s a ninja. Sneaking into your home is a cake walk, but your ceiling better be tall. Be prepared for him to bump into things unintentionally of course.

Pray to god he never has to take a shit at your house. Be prepared to do some plunging.

Buying him clothes in the right size…. Forget about it.

Your first kiss is going to be awkward. One he’s never kissed before and two your mouths are quite the size difference. It’s going to take practice.

The first time you have sex is going to be just as awkward. He’s going to be worried about his performance but mostly his size. And he’d be right to worry. He’s twice the size of any porn star you’ve seen.

It’s going to take time to adjust to his size… not just his dick ya nasty! I mean his size in general. He’s much stronger than the human man and sometimes he doesn’t know his own strength.

You can not and will not go on patrol with him. He can not and will not give you details about those patrols either.

Master splinter will limit your time in the lair. Combine that with work during the day and him on patrol all night. You will rarely get to see him unless he breaks code.

April comes before you. Casey too. You’ll have to leave the jealousy at the door.

He can not give you store bought gifts. Everything he gifts you will be hand made.

He more than likely will keep you a secret from his family for quite some time… if or when you get caught that is.

Could you handle that type of relationship? Honestly I think I could be a good fuck buddy for Raph but Leo I’d catch feelings for and I just don’t know if I could do it. Let me know in the comments what your thoughts are. 😍

[toccata-i-voir]

Then don't question wording.

You do sound like a Beethoven. We'll see if that's a good or bad thing.

Favourite fairytale? Don't be boring.

Easy - Vasalisa the Fair. Oldie, but goodie.

In general, the older versions of fairytales are much more compelling than the modern interpretations.

Good or bad, huh? I don't subscribe to that dichotomy, not when it comes to people. People always come in shades of grey. Separating those into black and white is simply reductive.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

like a secret in your throat

y’all asked for whump. y’all got whump. title from “Vampires Will Never Hurt You” by my all-time favorite band, My Chemical Romance

whump, hurt/comfort with a happy ending!

tw: manhandling the bard, vampire transformations (side character), non-sexy biting, blood mention, canon typical injuries/violence

---

Geralt looked up from his mug of ale when he realized that Jaskier had stopped playing. Instead, the bard was chatting merrily away with a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark cloak. The hood obscured most of the stranger’s face but Geralt caught the reflective glint of a bead or piece of metal braided into his matted black hair. An instinct tickled at the back of the Witcher’s head but Geralt couldn’t quite place the feeling. Something was wrong about this little tableau but he couldn’t figure out what it was; his medallion wasn’t reacting to anything in particular and Jaskier seemed perfectly happy, lost in conversation with the dark-haired man.

Geralt returned his gaze to his mug and let his mind wander.

Jaskier did seem perfectly happy to be without him on nights like these, when they were back in civilization and the extroverted bard could branch out and meet new people. That was the problem, in Geralt’s opinion. 

Lately the Witcher had found himself contemplating what life would be like on the Path if he decided to travel alone again. Winter wasn’t close enough for him to excuse himself and go North, but he’d developed a strange and uncomfortable dependence on the bard that he needed to be weaned away from. It wasn’t healthy for either of them. 

It wasn’t safe.

If he grew too close to Jaskier, then… 

Wouldn’t that be a weakness? Wouldn’t that be a vulnerability and a dangerous closeness? Geralt couldn’t risk forming a connection like that. He couldn’t allow himself to hope for something so organic and pure to develop between a half-monster and a youthful, bright-eyed bard; Witchers weren’t meant to get nice things. That was not his lot in life.

And yet…

Some mornings, when he only barely cracked his eyes open and used his heightened senses to peek across their campsite, he saw Jaskier looking back at him, a curious glint in those pretty blue irises. Geralt couldn’t pinpoint the emotion the bard’s face held; he was bad at that, and the uncertainty of the younger man’s feelings scared him. He could handle rejection, but acceptance? If Jaskier was as loving and openminded as Geralt thought him to be, it could prove to be a problem. Jaskier was too good for a Witcher. He didn’t deserve to be trapped by a life on the Path, dying too young because he was foolhardy and quick to fall in love.

The Witcher’s introspection came to an abrupt halt when the Jaskier in question appeared beside him, flushed and grinning. “Geralt, dear heart, are you ready to retire for the evening?”

“Are you asking me to bed?” the Witcher smirked, smothering the very real ache in his chest at the thought of curling up next to Jaskier like that. “Or do you need to borrow our room to entertain a guest?”

“Oh, no, I have no plans of that nature.” Jaskier’s already pink face darkened a shade and Geralt’s stomach flipped. “I’m actually rather tired. I was hoping to get some decent sleep tonight before we flung ourselves back into nature tomorrow.”

“Hmm. I’ll be along shortly. Don’t wait up.”

“See you in a bit then, dear heart.” 

And Jaskier disappeared up the stairs.

Unfortunately, the Witcher didn’t realize he wasn’t the only one watching Jaskier slip into their rented room with a longing expression on his face.

---

“We need to set up camp for the evening,” Geralt announced, bringing Roach to a stop and sliding gracefully down from the saddle. Jaskier loved the way his Witcher looked when he did that, like some kind of fairytale Prince or knight errant. The way his long, silver-white hair shifted and fluttered against his shoulders in the dusky light made him look more like a fantastical painting than a century-old Witcher; even with his scars and his pallid skin tone. 

The unconventionally enchanting sight made ballads stir in the most romantic corners of the bard’s busy mind. Words pooled and shifted behind his eyes, arranging themselves into neat rhyming couplets or quatrains. 

Geralt of Rivia, tall and fair,

With golden eyes and silver hair;

Whose glare could even douse the sun,

And send a Gryphon on the run.

The bard barely kept himself from sighing aloud as he removed his pack from across his shoulders and unfolded his bedroll and thin travel blanket. The material felt fragile between his calloused fingertips and he sighed forlornly,  “I’m going to need a new blanket soon.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it. And I’ll get Roach some new reins while I’m in town,” the bard waved his hand nonchalantly, as if spending money was no big deal. It really wasn’t, all things considered. They would be able to travel far more comfortably if Geralt would allow them to stop in Novigrad and access his University accounts more often. Alas, Witchers are stubborn creatures. “I see the way they chafe her poor muzzle, Geralt, so don’t argue. If you really insist you can pay me back by letting me write a song about the color of your eyes.”

“My… eyes?”

“They’re rather pretty, dear heart, and I think the world could do with a ballad about how they glow when you turn your face toward the sun.”

Geralt felt the back of his neck grow hot and he glanced away, “Hmm.”

“Well, let me know what you think in the morning. I don’t need an answer right away.”

Geralt finished setting up a decent pile of firewood and brought it to life with an efficient burst of Igni. He glanced across the flames to Jaskier and grunted, “I’m going to catch us some dinner. Make tea.”

“Yes, sir,” Jaskier saluted, smiling. Geralt rolled his eyes, grabbed his crossbow, and disappeared into the darkening treeline. Jaskier began to hum as he set up their tea kettle and filled it with water from the waterskin. The humming turned to quiet singing as he measured out two mugs worth of tea from the sachet of dried leaves. 

Singing that was cut off with a sharp, sudden cry.

---

Geralt heard the bard scream once. Only once.

The sound punctuated the air before leaving an uncomfortable, grating silence in its wake. 

The Witcher took off towards their campfire without a second thought, allowing his instincts to take over and guide him safely back, the potency of Jaskier’s fear hung thick and sour in the air, growing stronger the closer he came to their clearing. When he burst back into view, chest heaving from the sprint, he widened his eyes at the sight before him:

The cloaked figure from the tavern had Jaskier wrapped in his burly arms. One large, long-fingered hand had immobilized Jaskier’s wrists by pressing them into the dip at the base of the bard’s spine, forcing his elbows out and pressing his chest even tighter against the stranger’s. 

Jaskier looked up at Geralt beseechingly through his dark, damp lashes. His mouth opened in a silent cry of confusion and pain when the man tugged at his wrists and forced his arms to bend awkwardly. The bard wriggled and strained against the stranger’s iron grip in an effort to escape but the man only snarled in irritation and jerked him back into place. “Bad bard. Stay put, little thing.”

Geralt took a slow step towards his swords, trying to reassure Jaskier with his expression that: Everything will be okay. I will get you out of this. I will protect you and keep you safe… somehow. 

Jaskier needed Geralt to pay attention and protect him from harm.

Geralt had failed.

The Witcher watched with wide, horrified eyes as the hulking man keeping Jaskier captive shifted slowly into a far less humanoid form. The baubles braided into his hair jangled and clinked as his nose elongated and his eyes widened. His arms lengthened to form clawed bat-wings and his face thinned and covered over with a layer of grey fur. Fangs burst forth from his gums and slid over his previously humanesque canines. His voice, which had been rasping odd little sounds in the Witcher’s direction, faded into an terrible shriek. 

A Katakan. 

A Katakan that had snuck in and out of civilization without Geralt so much as smelling it; one that had Jaskier pinned against its chest, the claws of its unoccupied hand sharp and dangerous as they hovered near the bard’s ribcage, ready to pierce but unwilling to waste precious blood unless absolutely necessary. It screamed again, even more shrilly. “Want him!”

Geralt dove forward and pulled his silver sword from its sheath. He swung it in an elegant arc and narrowed his eyes, “Let him go and I might let you live.”

The Witcher’s words were a lie and they both knew it.

The Katakan twitched its long ears in annoyance and hauled Jaskier even closer. It wrenched his arms painfully and the bard whimpered, blue eyes filling steadily with tears. Geralt’s heart seized wretchedly in his chest and he tried his best to ignore it; he couldn’t let his feelings distract him until Jaskier was safe. 

“I want him,” the monster rasped, readjusting the bard in its grip. It turned Jaskier around until he was facing the Witcher, releasing his wrists just long enough to pull his hands around to the front before capturing them again. It grazed its two long fangs against the column of Jaskier’s throat and trilled happily. “He sings so pretty. Talks so sweet. Bet he tastes sweet like he talks.”

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed. “He does have a rather pretty singing voice. I suppose that’s why I can’t have you killing him.”

“But he will sing for me,” the vampire shrugged. It shook Jaskier like a toy and the bard’s tears finally fell. He whimpered again when the vampire leaned close and told him: “Sing, little thing. Let me pull lovely music from your veins.”

Jaskier shivered visibly. He gave a few panting, strangled sobs as he slipped into panic, too frightened to move with the vampire’s fangs so close to his neck. He wanted Geralt to finally swing that stupid sword and get this over with. He wanted to curl up in Geralt’s arms and never leave for the rest of his life. He wanted to be taken to Kaer Morhen and hidden away in safety, fuck his music career and the rest of the world. He wanted Geralt to stay in his presence forever, never letting him out of sight again. He wanted…

Before he could finish his thought there was a sharp, piercing, all-encompassing pain at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

A keening wail filled the air once. 

The vampire bit down harder, its tongue sliding against the skin of the bard’s neck in an effort to urge the blood to exit faster. 

There was another high, piteous cry for help and then... 

The world went black.

---

When Jaskier opened his eyes again, the world was even darker than it had been before; mostly because the light from both the moon and their campfire was being blocked out by the broad plane of Geralt’s chest, which Jaskier found himself cradled against almost… lovingly. Above him, he heard the Witcher murmuring: “Jaskier, please. Please wake up, Julek. Come on, bard, I kn-”

“G-Geralt?” he managed to croak. He followed it with a very eloquent, “Hunh?”

“Jaskier,” the Witcher sagged with relief, pressing his forehead against the bard’s and breathing in deeply. He tightened his arms around Jaskier, pulling him even closer as his frown disappeared, “Melitele be blessed, you’re alive!”

“Should I not be?” Jaskier asked. He tried to sit up on his own and winced when a bright burst of pain flared out from his shoulder.

“The Katakan- You were bleeding so much and I-” Geralt was, as always, at a loss for words. Jaskier waited patiently, still feeling drowsy and half-alive, and allowed the Witcher to gather his thoughts. His neck ached and his left arm tingled fiercely every time he tried to flex his hand on that side. 

“Did it… Am I a vampire now?” he asked. The absurdity of the question broke Geralt from his confusion.

“No,” the Witcher answered swiftly. “You’re still very mortal-” a hand swept through Jaskier’s hair, calming him further “-And unfortunately still very fragile.”

“Are you going to beat yourself up over this for the next week and somehow twist it around until it’s all your fault?”

“Hmm,” Geralt looked away. Jaskier was still being held so very tenderly in his arms, laid across the Witcher’s lap like some kind of swooning maiden. He rather liked how close he was to Geralt and hoped to stay that way for just a little longer. The Witcher surprised them both by letting a full sentence slip into the air between them, “I don’t like seeing you hurt, Jaskier, especially not when… when I was close enough that I could have prevented it from happening at all.”

“Your medallion didn’t give you any hints about this thing back at the inn when I was talking to him? He seemed completely normal, if a little monosyllabic. I’m used to monosyllabic, anyway,” the bard joked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. It didn’t work; Geralt lifted his head and stared into the fire, his brow already furrowed as he slipped into his private realm of self-loathing. Jaskier was still laying across his lap, his neck and shoulder giving off pulsing aches with every beat of his heart. 

Eventually the Witcher spoke again, his voice low and full of frustration. “Katakans are different, they don’t- they don’t set off my medallion the way other creatures do, and they can disguise themselves as people. They can move and talk like people; you saw it transform.”

“I did,” Jaskier grimaced. “And it wanted me to sing while it drank my blood.”

“You didn’t do very much singing,” the Witcher grumbled. “You screamed twice and fainted. It nearly dropped you.”

“If I remember correctly,” the bard smiled playfully, “Someone said my singing was too pretty for me to die.”

“Hmm.”

“It was you, Geralt. You said that.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier tried to sit up again and nearly passed out from the pain that screamed through the entire left side of his body. “I- Geralt, I-”

“What’s wrong, Julek?” the Witcher asked, adjusting the bard until he was more comfortably enclosed in Geralt’s arms, his back leaning against one of Geralt’s bent legs for support. Geralt’s other leg was straightened out before him and Jaskier let his calves fall atop the Witcher’s thick thighs. They looked like a painting, with Jaskier reclined as he was and Geralt looking at him like that.  

“Everything hurts, dear heart. My whole left side feels aflame.”

“It’ll burn like that for a day or so,” Geralt shushed him. “You bled quite a lot, you were bitten, and you hit the ground pretty hard.”

“You didn’t catch me?”

“I was a little busy beheading your attacker and keeping you from becoming a member of the undead,” Geralt scoffed. “Pardon me for not carrying you to safety first.”

“Well since you let me get injured, you have to kiss it better to gain your pardon,” the bard insisted. Geralt’s eyes widened comically and his hand clenched where it was resting on Jaskier’s lower back. 

“It’ll- It would hurt if I kissed your wound,” Geralt replied shakily, trying to escape while he still could. Jaskier wasn’t about to let him. Not again.

“Then you’ll just have to kiss my lips instead.”

“Jaskier?”

“Hush, Geralt. I know how you feel about me, and I feel much the same about you. Let’s skip the words bit, because I know that’s not your favorite, and get right to the kissing.”

“Oh, uh...” The Witcher allowed himself to smile. It was a soft, nervous thing but it made his eyes crinkle at the corners and Jaskier felt himself fall even further in love with his darling Geralt. “Alright.”

Geralt cupped the back of Jaskier’s head carefully, tilting his own chin down, and brought their lips together slowly. The bard’s lips were soft and plush and warm beneath his own, giving just slightly but not wilting beneath his touch. It was better than anything he could have imagined. When they pulled apart, Jaskier frowned. 

“Was it bad?” Geralt asked automatically, more nervous than he had ever been with another lover. 

“No,” Jaskier shook his head. “I just don’t think I’m healed yet. I may require another. Or several more.”

“Well, if the patient thinks it’s necessary,” Geralt grinned, leaning forward again. Jaskier pulled himself up a little to meet him, ignoring the lances of hurt in his arm. “I suppose...”

[ofmythsandmadness]

to be called beautiful | d.h.

❛ do you ever miss, having someone around to love you?❜

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SUMMARY: vigilantes!au. you push the boundaries of your relationship, and ask for a wish you know won't be given back. (or — it's late, and after another night of patrol, loneliness sets in deep.) WARNINGS: slightly nsfw??? mentions to sex, no descriptions. it's not a sexual story, just a part of an inner monologue. WORD COUNT: 2.6k+ NOTES: reposting this in hopes it shows up this time (pls pls pls i'm gonna cry). i've been writing a whole other series that is a totally different writing style, but i've been trying to work out my emotions in small, focused pieces like this one when i can't focus. i might develop this into a small ficlit series of it's own, bc i think it's kinda fun — but we'll see how this goes.

THE BEAST THAT IS YOUR LONELINESS has been your burden for too long to say.

It's hold on you is a familiar ache, one you've felt for years, like a chronic tight tugging on your heart that refuses to give in no matter what you try. But you still refuse to name it for fear of coming to terms with the implications of it all. That you're really alone in this life and you're terrified of what that means and the fact that you can't have what your childhood stories promised would be yours.

Like the fool you are, you cling to the idea that it's just passing notions. You'll get over it one day. The flitting daydreams of a fairytale romance better fit for a vanilla Hallmark flick suck, but one day they won't hurt so bad. You'll numb and find a way to fill the void. And you try, you really do, pushing it down for the quick release of meaningless acts and walks of shames and cold bedsheets.

Sex is a toxic friend. You choose it's pull when your heart aches most and the loneliness begs for your breath to the point where every gasp of air is a privilege, not the bare minimum. It's not what you crave. There's no romance, no love. It's a trade and one that always leaves you feeling robbed of something you're not sure you ever even had.

You rarely remember their names. You know they probably won't remember yours. And why would they? The shudders, the whimpers, the cold moans that amount to nothing but crumbs of a supposedly passionate act only pass an hour, then they're gone. Or you're gone, if you're lonely enough to risk it. A bit of fun, a breath of pink and white and the feeling of someone pulling you closer, begging for your skin against theirs.

And then, it's all grey again. And you're alone at your apartment, washing your body free of the marks some stranger dared to press into your wilting skin, wondering what it would feel like for a lover to kiss you that same way. Running your fingers over every inch that has been caressed by so many faceless guests, trying to hold yourself in the way your foolish heart pounds for. But it's never enough. Your hands don't cup your flesh, don't mould and kiss and promise the carefully knitted lies any lover had dealt you in the past. And you're as cold as ever when they fall back to your sides. Nothing enflames your skin like you wishes it could — like those you wish would.

It's a discontent you live with. Just as you're sure millions of others do. That's what life is; you push yourself through the day, through your mundane day job and your taxing nighttime hobbies (because you sure as hell can't claim what you do as real work if your only pay is in blood and tears). You cling to the good times that happened too long ago to remember clearly, and make the moments that you're alone with your thoughts as small as possible.

But there's no time to consider all that now.

You scrunch your face up as tight as you can, squeezing your eyes shut to the point where you see stars, exploding like confetti in some absurd black void that hides behind your lids. For a moment you hold the pose, watching the stars erupt, until the position hurts too much and you have to release.

Surroundings blur and then clear as your eyes readjust from their disassociation. You stare blearily at the random coffee shop you and your 'associate' chose for the night. It's just as generic as the last five visited, a thousand shades of brown and red and weary smiles the bored baristas wear just for a cheap check that'll barely cover their asses. It's worn and empty; no one's hear except the two of you and the workers who probably hate you for being here so late.

Normally, you would feel like an asshole staying so late. But you can't bring yourself to move, or even suggest to. It's all too heavy. And even if it's in brooding silence, you don't want to leave your partner. Not yet, you beg the universe, just a few more minutes.

And, speaking of—

"What's got you so blue today?"

You blink. Look over to him, only to see him already watching you.

There's really no point lying. He always unravels you too quickly, too easily — it's the detective in him, unravelling anyone and scooping their truths from shivering flesh. Some sort of childhood trauma response he developed into another super power.

You used to hate it. Now...if you concentrate hard enough, his sharp gaze feels like one of a lover's.

"Don't know what you mean," you tell him, foolish and flustered. "I'm just fine."

"Bullshit. You've sighed a dozen times in the last five minutes."

"Tch. No I haven't."

"Did too!"

His teeth glint, white and clashing against the full pink of his lips. You wish you could denounce all the times you wondered what it would feel like to have them graze against your keening skin — but not even all the gods could cleanse of you of those thoughts. Those desperate, pleading, melancholic memories stain; he can't see them, but you do when you look close enough. And you can't escape it, much as you try.

"Seriously, though. What's up with you?"

Your gaze falls down to your hands, eager to escape his allure, though it's not a great distraction. It only makes you more bitter, really, taking in all the flaws that litter your weaponised limbs. They're calloused from a million fights. Your knuckles are scarred, aching from wounds you reopen every other night. A thousand scars from a thousand scrapes, cuts, slashes and grazes linger on once perfect skin. You don't know how many there are, anymore, only that you wish you could wipe them off. Start over, have a clean slate. Erase all your mistakes and be beautiful again.

"I'm just tired," you lie. It's tense and pitiful; you know you've screwed it up the second the words leave your lips. "S'all."

"Ri-i-ight, and I'm the goddamn queen of England."

The absurdity of his retort makes your lips twitch. It's not enough for a smile, your self-inflicted misery makes sure of that, but it's a seed of something. "Wow. Didn't know I was in the presence of royalty."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut it."

"My apologies, your highness."

"Shut up, you little shit," he grumbles, but it's as soft as you get from him. It's practically a cry of love — or your foolish mind paints it as such. You take his teasing insults as promises of adorations and his arguments are poems of lust and infatuation that tug on your heartstrings in ways you know they shouldn't.

You're partners, for crying out loud. Professional coworkers (if you call the bloody mess you two create work). You don't get to miss him, or crave him, or love him like you do.

"Something happen to you?"

You watch his own hands fold and unfold on the table. The long, delicate fingers stand out on a man like him; someone who paints himself in only sharp angles and cutting lines. But you think they match him well. They promise life. Bleed hope, even in the raised scars that lace his skin like your own. You've watched those fingers grip a blade, launch it into flesh, pull and push and dig and rip and take and committed acts of atrocity most people would run from. You know he probably thinks of his hands the same way you do. But you think they're beautiful.

"Nah. It's...it's nothing. Really."

You can't see his face, but you imagine his narrowed eyes and furrowed brows asking for an answer you're just not willing to give. "C'mon, just tell me. Can't be that bad."

Your body laughs. You hear it from some place far away. It's cold and hoarse; you wonder how long it's been since you've heard a genuine laugh from yourself. You wonder if he notices (and wishes he did, foolishly, frivolously...).

It's probably stupid, but you go for it.

"You ever miss having someone?"

Something creaks; his chair, groaning as he shifts his weight. One of his fingers taps against his empty coffee cup; idle music for a restless soul.

"Like, in what way?"

"I..." Your nails dig into your palms. This was a mistake, but one you have to follow through with. He won't accept silence after something like that. "In the cheesy, domestic sorta way? That whole, havin' someone to come home to, someone who you can talk to, someone who..." the words stick like molasses in the back of your throat. Try as you do, they refuse to give themselves to him, so you have to substitute. "Just, someone who likes you, past your body or, or whatever."

"Oh."

"Sorry." It's your turn to shift in your seat, awkwardly searching for something to occupy yourself with as this uncomfortable energy you've created carries on. But your cup's empty, and you don't have the cash to ask for another overpriced latte. "Forget about it. Let's talk about somethin' else, yeah?"

He doesn't answer that. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all for a moment, long enough to make you wonder if you've just crossed the line of no return. You can't bring yourself to look at him, hell your cowardice is painful enough to make you wonder if you should just make a run for it, say au revoir! to the bond you've built with this knife-obsessed robin hood and crush your heart forever.

It's tempting, and you consider it, but then he fills the silence.

"I miss Eudora sometimes."

Finally, your gaze tilts up. Your eyes meet his lips. He's not smiling anymore.

You guys don't talk about exes together. It's a forbidden topic, same as family or childhoods or the number of people that have cut you open and bled you dry for fun. It's too personal, and in this line of work, personal doesn't fly. But you know Eudora Patch, because this line of work requires a couple run ins with people like her, and because your partner in crime has never learned how to stop his emotions from bleeding into his expression.

"Not because I still love her, but y'know..." his fingers wave aimlessly. "It was nice, when it worked. I liked having someone to sleep with. In a non-sexual manner." His lip curls a little. "Guess the sex part was nice too, though."

You nod. "Yeah, I get that. It's...it was nice, having someone who knew you. Who wanted to make you feel good, not just for themselves but 'cause that sort of things matters."

"Mm."

"Y'ever consider pursuing that sort of thing?"

He shakes his head. His adamancy is a truck smashing into your heart — though you know you should have expected no less, it still hurts. "I can't. It never works, with people like us. Y'know?"

"Yeah. Makes sense." You want to say more. You probably should say more — but you doubt he wants to hear your woes about intimacy, and the pathetic ways you crave affection you probably don't deserve. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Hm?"

His brows knot. "Why're you asking? Someone do somethin'?"

"What? No."

"Cause, like, if someone's hurt you, I'll—"

"I'm fine," you promise, and without thinking, you reach across the table to pat his hand. To reassure him like one would a lover. But just before your fingers meet his, the bitter reminder that he's not yours sets in and you draw back. Your hand falls a couple inches from his own. "And I can take care of myself, if I wasn't. Don't worry."

He chuckles mirthlessly. "Y'sure about that? You're still the dumbass that tripped over her own feet twice walking down an empty sidewalk, and—"

"—oh, you are such an asshole, why can't you just—"

"—so if you need someone to cut a bitch, I'm available."

You soften slightly. Try to smile, even if it's a false promise and probably hangs like a broken door on mismatched hinges. "I appreciate that. But I'm okay. Think I'm just tired, and a little lonely."

"What, I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

Bitterness seeps onto your tongue; it speaks before you can shut your lips around it. "You're fine as a partner against crime. But you're not anything otherwise, are you?" It feels like a taunt. You hadn't meant it to be — though, maybe you had.

If he takes your jeer poorly, though, it doesn't show on his face. He's still smiling and watching you, eyes simmering with a joke you wish you were in on.

"It doesn't matter though. Having someone's too complicated, 'specially for fools like us. Sometimes it's just..." you don't have a good answer. Not one he'd want to hear, anyways. "I just miss it sometimes. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to, or eat breakfast with in the mornings."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Was nice, having another body around."

"Yeah. Ha. I," you stutter out a chuckle. Tug at your lip, nibbling at the cracked skin that comes with your long nights. "No one prepares you for how lonely adulthood is. Like, I'm half tempted to make friends with the takeout guys, just so I have a friend at all."

"We're friends."

"You know what I mean," you mumble, swallowing the bitter 'are we?' that almost makes its way off your tongue. "It was just nice when I had the time, to have a person around. Someone to like, hold hands with, or-or call me beautiful, sometimes. I-I can't remember the last time called me that, any..."

Fuck.

You hadn't meant for that last confession.

He wasn't supposed to hear that. It's too personal, too personal, too fucking personal for someone you don't even know.

Everything trembles; you're shaking like an avalanche, ready to sweep it all away under some snow drift. Never to be seen again. But you can't do that, there's no taking back the way your voice cracked as it reaches it's last word, and how your hand slips into a fist, ready to charge even though there's no punching your way out of this fumble.

You crack. Stumble out of your seat. Before he can talk you're moving, throwing a couple bills (too many for your poor wallet, you'll pay for that later) down and mumbling something about heading home. Your head's spinning and you just want to sit down again, pretend like this never happened and ask about some meaningless moment in a meaningless day that you wish could be yours and his, not just—

"—text me when you're goin' out again," you say, high and nervous. "I'll be around."

You turn.

"You don't have to leave."

"I got work tomorrow. Early."

"Thought you had the day off?"

Fuck, la deuxième acte. "Taking a shift for someone."

"Oh." He doesn't believe you. He would be a fool to. But he agrees anyways. "Okay."

"See ya, Kraken."

He doesn't answer you back. It's probably better that way.

BONUS

Many hours later, you're in bed, finally dozing off. You've rinsed off the filth of the night and resigned yourself to a barely adequate rest alone, too tired to consider what usually makes your mind race. It's been a long day; let future you contemplate all the ways you've screwed up.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, however, there's a small ping! that immediately wakes you up A notification sound reserved for only one person.

You groan but still roll over. Your heart may be a humiliated, burning mess, but it still beats for him, much as you've tried to stifle it.

kraken // 2:36 am. you available at 11p tomorrow?

kraken // 2:37 am. got word somethin going down at east docks, wanna check it out before it gets bad.

Relief is a sweet blessing. You exhale and smile into the darkness. He's still a professional, even if you seem unable to understand what that means.

you // 2:40 am. for sure. meet me at my place whenever and we can prep.

You leave it at that. Whatever he has to say after that, cannot be too important to waste your precious hours of sleep. So you roll over and shut your eyes and let yourself forget about the empty space that fills your place.

It's a decision you regret the next morning, when you wake up and realise what you missed.

kraken // 3:31 am. you ever get lonely for someone, feel free to let me know.

kraken // 3:32 am. might not make a great boyfriend, but i'll eat breakfast with you. so long as you're cooking.

A/N - I had a whole idea for two tired vigilantes (like what Diego does in season one, but partnered up) who both are really lonely and tired of life and all it's shit, and rely on each other more than they'll ever admit, and...I'll probably never write it, but this was a fun bit of that. two lonely emotionally deprived assholes who can't accept that maybe they can be loved and the person who wants to is right in front of them. :)

[dapandapod]

Child of surprise

So my darling gremling @geogrewife were supposed to help me pick a Wip to work on but made me write this instead. Please enjoy!  On Ao3 here

Warning: fluff. so much fluff. Like, fluffy fluff.

“Somethings wrong with Roach.” Geralt frowns at Jaskiers words. They have been staying in a cottage all winter, deep in the forest away from prying eyes. They found it when the first hint of gold appeared in the trees, and they decided that this is a good a place as any. It has been restful. No big bad monsters around, just the normal inhabitants. Roach has been away a lot, roaming the forest but always returning unharmed at nightfall. The cottage didn’t have a stable so they simply made a new door to the cottage, making a pen out of one of the corners. Geralt can be a handyman when it comes to the comforts of Roach and Jaskier relentlessly teases him about it. This is one of those nights they spend in peace, wind whistling among the trees and hard rain falling on the roof. “No?” Geralt protests, because he can see nothing wrong with her? And he is clearly the superior horseman out of the two. “Uh, yes? Geralt, I know I know very little of horses but something is clearly different? Can’t you tell?”

Geralt puts down his gwent cards and gets up from the wooden chair he sat on. Roach is ignoring him, munching on her hay in her corner, resting one hind leg as she does when she is relaxed. He walks up to her, hand on his chin and eyes squinting. He looks her over but sees nothing obvious, so he focuses, letting all other sounds fade away. Geralt rarely uses his witcher senses on her, but she smells like usual? He senses no wounds, no pain, nothing sticking out. Her fur is all shaggy now in wintertime, but that’s about it. “I can’t see anything.” Geralt mutters, returning to the table. “Did you look at my cards?” Jaskier scoffs. “I don’t need to look at your cards to win. Just. Let’s keep an eye on her?”

Time passes slowly. Winter is dark, and every day Roach wanders the woods. Geralt is out hunting for dinner but stumbles on her tracks among the trees. He is very far away, he wasn’t aware Roach made such long trips. He suspects Jaskier might be right. Something is off with Roach. She is getting slower, sometimes in the mornings her legs get a little swollen. Geralt massages her and tries to keep her warm and well fed but he will not be in the way when she wants out. But it’s probably time to see what she is up to. It seems like this stretch is well walked, many hoofprints covering the ground in both directions. Geralt follows her tracks and stops mid step when he notices where they lead. Up ahead is a clearing, a frozen creak glistening in the sunlight, snow heavy on the branches. It looks magical. On the other side of the clearing stands Roach. Only, she is not alone. Next to her stands a white horse. So white it almost can’t be seen against the snow. It has long white mane with grey streaks and the body is powerful. And it’s a unicorn. The horn is long, sharp. Dangerous. The unicorn could easily kill Roach with it. But it doesn’t. They are standing peacefully next to each other, her dark fuzzy fur a stark contrast. They use their muzzles to push away the snow to get to the grass underneath. Geralt barely dares to move, barely dares to breathe. As far as he knew there were no unicorns left. Obviously he was wrong, and it has taken a liking to his Roach. Geralt tries to back away quietly, stepping into his own footsteps, so that he doesn’t startle them. But the unicorn must sense him, his head shoots up and then runs away. Roach startles and looks around, but when she sees Geralt she relaxes. Well. “Hi girl.” He greets her. “Uh… sorry. I didn’t mean to startle your... friend?” Oh. Ooooh. That’s why she’s been away so much. That’s why there was more than one set of hoofprints. Probably. He wonders how long they have met out here in the woods, and he feels oddly protective of her. Roach makes no effort to walk up to him so he leaves her there in the clearing.

When he returns to Jaskier some time later, two winterbirds under his arm, he realizes Jaskier was right. He kicks his boots on the doorframe on the way in, ridding himself of most of the snow. “You were right.” He calls as a greeting, and Jaskier hits a sour note on his lute. “‘Scuse me?!” Jaskiers eyes are huge, startled. “Did you hit your head while hunting?!” Geralt chuckles and hangs up his outer clothes. “You were right about Roach. There is something up with her.” “OH! Yes, I told you so! You know what it is?” Geralt settles down to pluck the birds. “Yeah. She has met someone.” Jaskier picks up his playing again, plucking on the strings in a soft melody. “Oh really? Are there more horses in the woods? Or a nymph perhaps?” “Unicorn actually.” Again, Jaskier makes a sour note on the lute and Geralt cringes at the sound. “Sorry, but. Did you just say you saw a fucking unicorn?!?” Jaskier gapes, not believing a word he hears. “Yeah. It got scared of me though and ran away.” “THIS IS WHY I NEED TO COME WITH YOU GERALT!!!” Jaskier abruptly stands up from his chair, dragging a hand through his hair. “I MISSED A UNICORN!” Geralt smiles again, fingers still working on their upcoming dinner. “You will never let me out of your sight again, are you?” Geralt says fondly and Jaskier huffs. “You are absolutely right!” He plops back in the chair again but lets his lute hang from his hand and rests on the floor. “I can’t believe this.” “Don’t pout. I’ll bring you with me in a few days.”

And so he does. They let Roach get a headstart of a few hours, but it takes two months before they see it again. By then Roach has eaten through a third of their collected hay for the winter. Her legs are still swollen and her back seems to sink a little. Geralt is starting to suspect he knows what is wrong with her.

They follow her to the clearing, this time walking with her instead of sneaking behind. They see her go about her usual routine, scraping a hole in the stream to drink and them starting to push the snow around. It takes almost an hour before she raises her head and she whinnies towards the woods. There is a deep rumbling neigh in return. And there he is. He trots up to her, his neck curved and tail raised.

Because it is a he, Geralt realizes. A stallion. And there is nothing wrong with Roach. She is with foal.

Beside him Jaskier draws in a breath, mouth open with awe. It’s like a picture from a fairytale, the snow glistening, the world holding its breath. The unicorn nuzzles her thick fur, and they start scratching each other's backs. Next to him Geralt can hear Jaskier sniffle, and he is not far away from breaking a tear himself. The unicorn sees them, ignoring Roach buffing his side to continue, and stares. Geralt really, really hopes he won't attack. He is not sure he would be able to flee it, and that would mean fighting it. Luckily it seems to decide they are no threat and turns away. The two horses go back to inspecting the other and then walk off into the woods without a backwards glance. Jaskier and Geralt stay in the clearing for a while longer, breaths as clouds in front of them.

“Wow.” Jaskier finally manages, wiping at his eyes with his ungloved hands. “Too bad I can never sing about this.” he smiles, blinking up at the afternoon skies. Geralt sees the reasoning in that too. The moment rumors of a unicorn comes out there will be people hunting it. He takes Jaskiers freezing hands in his and leads them back towards the cottage.

When the first spring flowers peak through the snow Roach is heavy. It’s clear they won’t be going anywhere for a while. So they prepare to stay for even longer. Geralt leaves for two weeks, trekking towards the closest village. They need more supplies and food, and getting there by foot and back is going to take some time. To Jaskiers surprise (and Geralt's despair) he returns through a portal, Yennefer close behind. She stays for a few weeks, cooing at Roach like she never had before, lovingly petting her down and spoiling her absolutely rotten.

She comes back in the middle of summer. Because it’s time. During the night Roach is restless. She walks around outside the cottage, snorting and panting. Geralt, always the light sleeper wakes up and goes out to her. There is no need for her to sleep indoors during this time of year, and she leads him towards her clearing. It takes another hour for her to lay down, and by then both Jaskier and Yen found him by her side. Roaches sides are slick with sweat, and the small hoofs sticking out from her are just as brown as she is. Geralt wasn’t sure what to expect of this foal, if it would be white or brown. But it would seem that it’s brown. When the first early rays of sunshine filter through the leaves the foal, a little stallion, takes its first steps. His eyes are pale blue, his body a dark brown like his mother, and his mane a shade paler. There is no sign of a horn and Geralt can’t decide if he is relieved or disappointed.

They stay for some time longer, making sure Roach is alright before retreating back a bit. By now they have learned the unicorns habits a little better. Geralt and Jaskier double back to the cottage to bring some breakfast back. Jaskier squeeze his hand all the way there, and when they get inside the door Jaskier pulls Geralt close. He smiles at Geralt, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Why do I feel like a proud parent?” He asks and Geralt chuckles. He couldn’t agree more.

Jaskier decides to name the foal Pegasus. The little thing is feisty, he nips after them even though he doesn’t have any teeth yet. He kicks and he bucks and he flies over the grass. His father didn’t come on the first day, nor the second. But when he comes there is a full show of sniffing and buffing. When Roach thinks he is too rough on Pegasus she steps between them, ears slicked back and teeth on display. She turns around and half heartedly kicks at the unicorn and Geralt swells with pride. When they calm down Pegasus tries to imitate his parents, doing his best with his short neck to bend down towards the grass. He can’t quite reach and stumbles. “I can stay here for hours.” Yen says softly, a soft smile on her lips. Geralt knows how she feels.

And they do. They stay for hours and hours to watch Pegasus and Roach, sometimes around the cottage and sometimes in the clearing. Still no horn in sight, just a small bump in the middle of his forehead. Pegasus seems to have taken a great liking to Jaskier. Whenever the bard sits in the grass, leaning back on the wooden wall with his lute, Pegasus scampers over to inspect. He pulls at his clothes, steals his expensive hat and tries to nibble at the lute.

They talk about what they should do. Yennefer comes and goes, unable to stay away from the little menace of a foal. She claims she wish to study him, if he got any magical abilities, but they all know better.

Perhaps they will make their way towards Kaer Morhen. The area isn’t perhaps the safest for a horse, but at least there won’t be any prying eyes in case Pegasus actually shows any abilities. Jaskier speaks of the coast again, and about Lettenhove. Traveling with a foal however is not the safest nor the most practical thing. But the summer is still young.

They have time.

[ga-yuu]

My opinions on Ikemen Prince Characters...

Leon

He’s okay. Nothing so much special. Just a milder version of Masamune and more energetic Napoleon. Other than that I don’t find him that much special. Also his route is okay. The ending made me scratch my head a little. That’s all I can say about him.

Yves

Yves is cute. I love how he’s always unlucky. He’s the tsundere character and although I have seen a lot of those type, I still can’t get enough. I think I’m the only one who thinks this way but Yves reminds of Barbie dolls. His blue eyes and blonde hair makes him look like a barbie doll not a prince. Also his room is pink and elegant. Also I love how he always changes from a tsundere to a doting brother when he talks about Licht. He has the most beautiful smile according to me.

Licht

Licht for me is like a robot. When heard Licht’s voice, he sounded like a robot. Also his clothes looks like its made of steel. Like the buttons on his jacket looks like screws for some odd reason. So Licht is the depressed guy of this game. I haven’t played his route because for some reason nothing was encouraging me to play his route. But other than that I like Licht little more than Nokto.

Nokto

The fox of this game. But I’ll be honest, I love Mitsuhide and Tamamo more than this guy if I had to compare fox characters. Nokto is the flirt and polar opposite of his brother. I love Nokto’s voice actor though and that’s the only thing I love about this character. I only played halfway through his route and stopped playing for some reason. I have no idea why I leave the routes halfway, maybe because I find it boring or maybe because I’m not interested on going further because I don’t feel any kind of emotions at all.

Jin

Jin Jin Jin....where do I even start with this one. I’m a person who is obsessed with older men so taking that in mind, I should be liking this character. But that’s not the case. I FREAKING HATE Jin very much. I feel like he’s a showoff. Whenever I see him, I always cringe. He’s like ikesen Shingen’s clone for some reason. But Shingen is funny and always compliments Mai-chan which is also funny. When he says those generic pick up lines I kind of chuckle because they don’t work on Mai-chan because she is from the 21st century. Jin is just AAGHH!! This happens when he talks about boobs and stuff. It just kills my mood when I eagerly progress through the story and suddenly out of nowhere this guy shows up. Also, why doesn’t he button up his shirt? I know it is obviously for fanservice and that’s another reason why I don’t like him. I know he is also the big brother and all, but I don’t want a big brother who talks about boobs and walking shirtless around desperately to look like a daddy. Rather I would like to have a brother who is matured and occasionally spoil me. This makes me think, what makes a man ‘daddy’? 

 Chevalier

Chevalier, according to me is somewhat of the normal and much more relatable character. I love him because of how intelligent and practical he is. He doesn’t care about how people see him and always works for his country to make it a better place. Cheva’s route was the first one I’ve played till the end, and it was not that bad because he and Clavis was the only thing best about the route. I love how he calls everyone nicknames and also his obsession with romantic novels. I sometimes wonder if I give him novels like Twilight and 50 shades of grey, will he read them too? Also if he is present in this era, will he be watching romantic k-dramas? Who knows? Maybe he will.

Cheva also has the best chemistry with Clavis than any other characters (including Emma), where Clavis is always teasing him and Cheva is like “......”. Cheva is much more better daddy than Jin.

Clavis

I FREAKING LOVE HIM SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH!!!!!! According to me, he’s the best thing about this entire game. I’m just waiting for this guy to come home so can slowly take my time and enjoy his story to the fullest. If someone asks me the reason for my liking this guy, I would say ‘IDK.’ Seriously, I have no idea why I like this guy so much and I have also seen other players liking him so much. I only re-installed this game for playing this guy’s route. So cybird, I won’t be telling you to release his route quickly. I want the writers to take their time and come up with a better storyline for him. Don’t ruin him please!!! Because the recent routes were not that great for me. So take your time, and write a good story. I’ll wait as much as you want only for this guy.

Luke

Luke is my 3rd favorite character after Clavis and Cheva, because I think he’s a very good person. He’s the right person to talk to when you’re feeling down. Also his obsession with honey. Hehe....I love that about him. He’s quite unique. I don’t know much about him about he’s the kind of character that I won’t hate no matter what. Such a calming personality.

Sariel

Okay. So is it just me or almost all the male character with glasses in otome games are portrayed as a sadistic devil who likes to punish MC by whipping her ass. Because of how much otome games I have seen and played, these type of characters always has a whip in their hands. Well there are exceptions like Sasuke in ikesen. So since its so common, when I saw Sariel for the first time, I expected him to be the same and I was not wrong. So, I just don’t find anything interesting about him. Just another glasses character to fill the sadistic slot in the game.

Rio

This man is soooooooooooo annoying sometimes. Other times he’s okay. I know he’s Emma friend and always follows her like a little puppy wanting for affection but he’s just so annoying when he starts to talk good things about Emma. He just never shuts up. No matter how many times he is friend-zoned by Emma he never gives up. I feel bad, at the same time annoyed. Whenever he starts praising Emma, I’ll be having the same expression as Sariel and tells him to shut up. That’s all.

Bonus:

Emma (MC)

This list is not complete without Emma of course. Emma is like a boring version of MC from ikevamp. She is portrayed as this kind and innocent young lady with the most purest heart in the entire town. But for me, she is this dumb woman who lives in her own fairytale world and once she started learning the reality, she’s all scared. Sometime she’s bearable but other time she’s just boring. I love brave MCs who fights her fears and stands up on her own, rather than a dull one, who is just there for the sake of romance and fanservice. Seriously she makes some of the routes even more boring to play. Good things about her is just that she’s kind person and that’s all. I wish I could say she is fierce but sadly she’s not. If I get to play very badass MC or MCs who have much more than being kind like a tsundere MC, won’t mind the story even if it’s too blunt. Playing like that would make me happy than being called dumb or stupid by male characters.

[imnotwolverine]

The Accidental Family - I am..WHAT?!

Henry Cavill x OFC Phoebe (Bee) 

Warnings: mentions of smut, strong language, unplanned pregnancy, sad fluff

Word count: 2.414

Author’s note: OKAY..one more to finish the year. I’m writing this while frying oliebollen (Dutch dough balls we eat during festivities) and my fingers are all sticky and sweet, but hey; I can’t leave you readers hanging on the last day of this miserable year! Kisses 😘

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

Phoebe was done with it all. Done with this week; done with the slump that was her life right now. She just worked through a week with three over-time shifts at the hospital, some annoyances with her new IUD and Leon. Fucking-fucktard Leon. 

But tonight she was going to be a big girl and suck it up, because heck; she was a good friend and tonight was Megan’s night. After long years of hard toil and shitty side-jobs, Megan had MADE it. She had gotten her first serious acting gig and tonight was the premiere, to which Phoebe would be her +1. 

Single girls unite. 

Sighing, Phoebe leaned into her make-up mirror, applying a coat of lipgloss to her pursed lips, heavy eyelashes fluttering. She never wore this much make-up, but it seemed like a thing you did when you went to such a fancy party. An A-lister party. Would Meryl Streep be there? She always had wanted to meet Meryl Streep. 

Smacking her lips to feel the stickiness of her lipgloss - why did people like wearing this crap? -, she moved out to the hall of her small apartment where she heard the intercom buzz. Alright. Showtime. 

‘Coming!’ She called to nobody in particular, hastily looking over the rows of shoes that were messily stacked by her door. Heels - heels - heels. And that scarf. Leon’s scarf. “Accidentally” left behind after he had come over to finally pick up the last of his things. She couldn’t stand the sight of it, and if it were a “good girl thing” to do, she’d shove it down the trash right now - like the trash he was. Cheater.

*tringgg* 

Hurry! -- Okay, shoes! Purple, brown, practical, no - no - no.. And then her eye fell on the perhaps a bit painful, but very much sexy heels she had once bought to wear for her 6th anniversary with Leon. Fuck-Me-Pumps. With silvery diamond straps and all. He hadn’t given two damns about them, about her dreams she had tried to talk about during that dinner - kids - but then again, Phoebe learned a year later why that was; CHEATER. 

‘Please bring me luck, babies.’ Phoebe mumbled, picking up the intercom that buzzed again. ‘Just putting on my shoes. Down in a minute.’ 

‘Alright m’am.’ A deep voice responded politely. 

Was that the driver? It must be the driver! They had a driver?! OH MEGAN, YOU! 

Excitement started to bubble in Phoebe’s tired bones as she realised that perhaps for tonight, things could be fun - painful shoes and all. 

Show-time. 

--

The water boiler gurgled lazily on the countertop, two pairs of eyes staring down at it, willing it to go faster. 

‘You didn’t respond to my text.’ Henry tried to keep a casual tone, but even with all his acting experience, the hurt was evident as his blue eyes swiftly moved over to Phoebe, who that had just knocked on his door after 3 months of radio silence. 

‘Yea...’ Phoebe cleared her throat and awkwardly leaned into the opposite kitchen counter Henry was leaning into. The tension was tangible and for a moment she scolded herself for pushing Megan to find out Henry’s address. 

‘..some..stuff happened.’ 

‘Is this the point where you’re going to tell me you’re married and your husband found out?’ 

Phoebe’s eyes widened and a chuckle escaped her lips, making Henry frown. ‘That might have just made all this a bit easier. But eh..no. I ..’ 

--

‘FEEEEBBsss where WEREEEE youu. Oh my god. Have you met..’ Phoebe could barely manage to stay balanced on her high heels as Megan’s hand dragged her away from the toilets - away from him - and onto one of the far corners of the crowded room where some mildly creepy man was waving at Megan. Megan waved back, but Phoebe could only focus on the burst of white camera flashes behind her, her eyes wishing to look if he followed. 

But Megan’s grip was tight and Phoebe was perhaps three shot glasses too drunk to stay on her feet AND look over her shoulder - the deep pink blush on her cheeks betraying that something was going on. 

‘..so I had this super fun chat with Michael. You know Michael right? I mean he was crazyyy excited about..Phoebe? Earth to Phoebe!’ Megan’s neatly manicured nail prodded into Phoebe’s silvery dress, awakening the blond woman from her over-shoulder stare when they finally had halted. 

‘Wh-what? Hi! Sorry. Eh..’ Instantly the deep pink worsened on Phoebe’s cheeks as Megan shot her one unbelieving wild eyed stare - she knew. Oh fuck, she knew. 

‘You know what - if you’d excuse us for a moment.’ Megan smiled charmingly at the old man that was checking her out for all the wrong reasons. 

Again Megan’s hand pulled on her arm, but this time they travelled less far, walking out to a more quiet area guarded by some heavy red curtains which offered a walkway for the staff who much resembled an army of tuxedo clad ants moving large trays of fizz around. 

‘You are 50 shades of red, hun.’ Megan chuckled, wiping some mildly smudged lipgloss from Phoebe’s chin. 

‘Oh, woops.’ Phoebe quickly mimicked the wipe on her chin, but the sticky residue was already gone - though other sticky residue on some other lips were most definitely still there. 

Shit, she had to get cleaned up fast. She wasn’t even wearing any PANTIES. DAMMIT. Oh my...how..why..Wobbling dangerously on her heels again, Phoebe lurched for one of the walls, a sudden wave of nausea coming over her as her red cheeks turned bitter green.

‘Awh shit Feebs. You OK? Eh..Ehhhhh...’ Nervously Megan looked around the stretch of the hallway, black and white tuxedos cruising deftly around with the patterns of a well-practised champagne carrying dance. 

‘Pfff...’ Phoebe tried to breath in deeply, inhaling whatever air she could muster in her suddenly claustrophobically tight lungs. Oh what did she do?!!! OH NO. Oh Christ. Good girls don’t shag in toilet stalls. Good girls don’t... ‘Pff - pff -pff’ With short little puffs she let out the air, but the nausea didn’t fade. How did pregnant women do that? Damn. 

‘I gotta go home.’ 

‘Yea-yea. Let me fix you a cab.’ Megan clipped her fingers and in a few minutes Phoebe was loaded into a cab, away from the bustling bubble of Hollywood A-listers and hot shots. 

The fairytale, was over. 

--

‘I got scared.’ 

‘Of me?’ Henry’s face pulled into one of agony, making him look even more disheveled with his wild curls, crumpled white shirt - which looked much too good on his large chest - and loose hanging grey sweatpants. 

‘No. I mean. Eh. Well. I lost my phone and..I called..and..someone picked up.’ 

‘Lea? Miranda? What someone?’ Henry stepped a little closer as the water cooker started to come to a slow boil. 

‘I don’t know. I -- They said they never heard of me, so I explained what..happened - oh fuck I shouldn’t have..I...pfffff. I panicked.’ A heavy blush crept over her cheeks as she nervously eyed the water boiler, the little lever moving back to “off” as the water danced in a heavy boil within.

‘Gr-green tea? English tea? Mint? I got some..’ Henry’s voice trailed off.

Phoebe shrugged and brushed a hand over her cheek, willing herself to stop blushing as the large stranger of a man brushed passed her to reach for the tea bags that were located just beside her head. 

‘Oh sorry.’ She quickly tried to get away, but Henry could only grin. 

‘It’s not funny, Cavill.’ Phoebe pouted shyly. 

‘Well you stood me up. I’m allowed to..smile, no?’ 

Phoebe opened her mouth to say something. Perhaps ask for forgiveness, or further her explanation to why she chickened out to trying again - and how she had even gotten his address. But no words came and so she just watched as Henry turned back to the task of making tea, bunching a few mint leaves in the two grey mugs that were settled on the smooth grey kitchen counter. 

This man sure liked his greys. 

‘I eh..actually ..had to tell you something.’ 

Even Phoebe herself wasn’t prepared for the words that had just escaped her lips, but there they were, earning a surprised quirk of Henry’s eyebrow. 

‘You don’t say.’ His lip curled into another cheeky grin and Phoebe couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. Henry chuckled and hinted in the direction of the kitchen table. ‘Let’s sit.’ 

-- And that was a very good idea -- 

--

‘Meg..oh I’m in deep shit.’ Phoebe paced her small hallway as she waited for her friend’s voice to soothe her stomach fluttering nerves, her new smartphone clutched tightly in her hand. 

‘Oh- oh- wait a sec. Baby..yea..mommy is gonna be righttt there. Just a moment okay?’ A short pause followed and then Megan finally answered. ‘HEYY booo. What’s cooking goodlookin’?’ 

‘A baby, that’s what.’ 

‘W-what?’ 

--

Why didn’t he say anything? Phoebe nervously fingered the ear of her mug, waiting for Henry to give any kind of response to what she had just explained, and for the slightest moment she considered fleeing again - like she had numerous times when she tried to find the courage and call him, text him - anything. But that just hadn’t sat right, felt right. And then for long weeks she just pushed the reality of it all away. How could she be pregnant?! HOW?! 

The new IUD, that’s how. But, Henry had used protection; how much bad luck could one have?! So much for accidents that happen in cramped little bathroom stalls. 

Finally Henry made a noise, but it was more like a surprised squeak, then any normal sound a man his size would make. 

‘I’m sorry.’ Phoebe lowered her eyes a little more, taking it up as a; yea, this is not cool, girlfriend.

No, scratch that - she was not even his girlfriend. Ha! They were strangers for fuck’s sake. 

‘O-okay.’ Henry inhaled deeply and nodded, brushing a hand over the head of his dog, who was pushing a curious nose into his lap. ‘Okay. Wow.’ 

‘Yea..’ Phoebe swallowed thickly.��‘I..I’m keeping it either way. But..I thought..’ Her fingers had apparently curled around the mug so fiercely that it right about screamed as its small ear broke off. ‘OH FUCK.’ Her eyes widened as her lips turned into a shocked little “o”. 

Henry laughed. ‘Well, we better get new mugs before that baby is born.’ 

Was he being sarcastic? Phoebe felt like she was close to tears as the man before her cracked out the mug joke. Oh, why did she always ruin things?! 

‘Oh don’t cry. Please don’t cry. It’s just a mug.’ Henry’s smile turned into a pained lip bite as he saw the silvery tears rim Phoebe’s eyes. But Phoebe couldn’t help it, her lower lip already shivering as she looked down at the broken little tea ear in her hand. 

‘I’m sorry..’ She whimpered pathetically, the first tears already beading down her cheek before Henry could push away his chair and squat down beside her. 

‘Hey-hey. It’s okay. It’s..hey, come on now.’ 

‘I’ll *sniff* g-get a new..ha..new one *sniff*’ 

Henry smiled, slowly shaking his head before he carefully brushed his fingers through her golden locks, hooking them behind her ear so he could properly see her face. 

‘Bee..’ His voice lowered to a gentle hum.

‘It’s Phoebe by the way.’ She sniffled. 

‘Okay. Hello Phoebe.’ His hand folded around her hand that was carefully holding onto the broken off mug ear. Hesitantly, Phoebe looked away from her hand, right into the blue ocean that had drawn her in some three months ago from across the crowded room. She now too noticed a little fleck of brown in there - a little accidental mutation. Would the baby have his eyes? 

‘H-hi.’ She sniffled, trying her best to turn her lips in a smile, but it only worsened everything, more tears bursting from her eyes as the stress and chaos of the past months came crashing down. In an instant she felt herself be enveloped by large warm arms, a hot breath fanning over her head as Henry nuzzled her hair, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear as he spoke: 

‘It was just an accident, okay? No harm done.’ 

Phoebe nodded, but scolded herself anyways. Sure enough he was just talking about the mug. The stupid fucking mug. But what about the fucking baby?! Her..- his - baby. 

‘Phoebe? Bee?’ He settled back a little, his fingers brushing through her hair again. ‘How about we go sit on the couch and I make you a new cup of tea and we..’ He licked his lip as his eyes quickly flew over her heart-shaped, tear bruised face. He had to try hard not to unnecessarily coo over her. He didn’t want to chase her away this time. Especially not now. Not with this..situation.

A..baby?!

‘You don’t have to be so nice you know.’ Phoebe muttered, looking back at him. 

‘Well, too bad I’m a nice guy then.’ -- Who is going to be a dad!!! WOO! --  His lips curled in a sweet smile. 

‘Nice guys don’t shag women in bathroom stalls, do they?’ 

Henry cleared his throat at her sharp words, quickly looking down at his hand covering hers. ‘Yea..that was a ..bit uncharacteristic of mine. Ha..fuck..You know I scolded myself so hard for doing that. I-I sent you a pretty long Whatsapp message after, but..’ 

‘I never got that. Must be some syncing issue when I got my new phone.’ Phoebe’s lips curled in a watery smile. ‘The couch is fine.’ 

‘Okay.’ Henry’s smile grew a little. ‘Can you walk?’ 

‘Pff..Of course I can walk.’ She huffed, before she all but flew up into Henry’s chest in surprise when she was nuzzled by a very wet nose. 

‘Oh, I forgot to mention, this is Kal. My dog. And he likes the word “walk”’ - the dog borked softly - ‘very much.’ 

They both laughed and Kal’s ears perked up, his wet nose pressing in Phoebe’s elbow again, pushing her further up into Henry’s welcoming arms. 

The whole situation was weird, but as Henry felt how naturally they somehow melted into an embrace, her arms wrapping around his back, he could only smile. 

Sometimes accidents simply offered you the little push you needed all along. Be it in the form of broken mugs or babies. 

--

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@tryingtoliveonmywishes @ceilingfann @do-youseeme

[badboys-imagines]

My neighbor (Henry Cavill)

PART III

A/N : I’d love to know what you think about this story so don’t hesitate to leave a comment ! Thanks for reading ♥.

Pairing : Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary : You move into the house of your dreams. It all seems like a fairytale, until you meet your neighbor, Mr. Cavill...

PART I   |  PART II  |  PART III 

Martha Lawson had always been curious, maybe too curious.

As you took the last luggage out of your car, you heard a high-pitched voice calling beside you. Ah, you would learn to hate that sound, but it’s another story.

“Hello dear,” Martha sang, ''I saw you moved in yesterday but you know how busy people can be, we didn’t get the chance to meet. I'm Martha by the way, I live across the street, the blue house.''

You looked up from closing the cars door and smiled, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Carrying all these stuffs would be the death of you, and you couldn’t count on Henry or your new desperate-housewife neighbor to help.

“Nice to meet you, Martha.'' you caught your breath, ‘'I'm Y/N.”

The woman smiled back at you, spreading tiny wrinkles around her eyes and cheeks. She was probably in her late fifties, but her surgeon had done a good job, it was undeniable. 

“I saw you and Mr. Cavill didn’t really get along, how unfortunate.” Martha said, lowering her voice, ''Oh, I don't mean to overstep. It’s just... don't mind him. He's a bit grumpy these days, it will pass.”

It wasn't a myth then. Desperate housewives living were really the worse gossipers.

“Yeah, I noticed.” you chuckled, “Do you know why ?”

“Ah, probably work, or a woman. How would I know ?”

Martha wasn’t really listening or trying to answer the question. She bent forward, her eyes taking sight of the bandage around your wrist,

“Poor sweet thing, did he hurt you in any way ?’’ Her eyes widened in fear and she looked back at you, concerned.

Your mouth opened and you huffed,

“Oh-this, no ! I...” My hand went through his window, you thought, “It was an accident. I cut myself with broken glass and it was all my fault. Really.”

Martha nodded suspiciously,

“Well then, don't let this attractive devil bother you. If you need anything, you know where to find me.” She winked and pointed at her big house again.

You nodded, thanked her and she walked away. She climbed up the stairs and waved her hand at you before closing the door. At least, she was kind.

Martha had a point : Henry Cavill was attractive. But he was also a pain in the ass.

You had quickly recovered from your little rush of adrenalin and you were now tidying your room, getting rid of the empty boxes that were still on the floor while Henry was making calls to get his window fixed.

Thinking about him and how weird he was, you couldn't help but find your devilish neighbor even more mysterious. He’d really taken care of you earlier. There was even a moment when you thought he was actually cute.

A knock on the door woke you up from your slumber and you stood up. Enough thinking about Mr. Chaos. A little conversation with someone else would distract you from these thoughts.

You opened the door, a light, polite smile curving your lips, but it was Mr Cavill. Again. A fluttery feeling twisted your guts and your smile died faster than a candles flame. This time, he looked upset.

Henry stared at you for a moment longer, enough for you both to feel awkward.

"Hello, again." he chuckled without an ounce of joy, "Glad to see you're... doing better."

A frown came up your forehead and you blushed,

"Oh, yes, I am. Thanks. I mean... Sorry. »

Wait, no, you weren’t sorry for everything…

You were about to correct yourself, but Henry spoke first,

"Apologies accepted. Well, this is embarrassing..." he muttered, "Listen, you broke my window and…"

You cut him off straight, "I know, and I'll pay for it, alright ? I'm sorry, for that." you insisted on the last words, but saw him shake his head as he bit down onto his lower lip,

"The thing is, I can afford a bunch of new windows if it pleases me.” he hummed lowly as if he disapproved your attitude, ‘'The impact made a crack on the main bay window, and now the whole set of windows needs to be replaced."

"What ?" you choked feeling dizzy, "Oh god…"

You didn’t have enough money for this kind of repair. Your hands legs started shaking.

"Please, don’t swoon again.” Henry closed his eyes in frustration, “I’m won’t ask you to pay for the whole thing. But I do need a favor. It will be snowing tomorrow and the guys who were supposed to fix this mess can't come until next Monday."

Your jaw dropped. Next Monday ? He was going to freeze to death.

"Oh shit." you swore, “Ho-how could I help you ? Do you need anything to keep you warm ?" you heard yourself talking and spluttered, "I mean... Not in a way that... Well, you know."

Heart stuttering, you cleared your throat, hating yourself for being so clumsy at that very moment. You rubbed the back of your neck in embarrassment and silence fell between you. Henry’s eyes darkened to the point they almost looked grey in the daylight.

Was it lust in his gaze ?

After a moment, he shrugged, burying his hands into his pockets, "Just a room, would be nice."

“I didn't want it to sound... I didn’t mean anything... physical.” you sighed, avoiding his blue irises.

At first, you remained silent. There were plenty of hotels out there, good and cheap ones. He'd easily find a place to stay. But then your gaze settled on his and the sentence made its way to your brains.

"You want to stay here. At my house." you’d said it out loud, as if waiting for confirmation.

Even though he kept his voice calm and indifferent, Henry uncomfortably shifted on his feet, his usually cold, pale skin tinting with light shades of red,

"Precisely.” he took a step toward you, “I despise hotels, and since I don’t think you can pay for my broken windows, I thought it would be a fair deal." he plunged his gaze into yours and for a moment, you lost yourself into them, “If you meant to keep me warm without anything physical," he repeated your own words, "it shouldn’t be a problem to live like this for a week or two.”

A week or two ? That was a lot. You gulped audibly,

"Don't you have friends for this kind of emergencies ?" you asked, but the question hung in the air and seemed to bother him more than your rejection itself.

Of course, he didn't have any friends. He was Henry Cavill, the devil himself, for god's sake.

It took you a moment to realize what it would involve. Henry living with you, even for just a week, would be a terrible mess.

Oh, no, you couldn't do that.

Or could you ?

On the other side of the street, you noticed Martha Lawson was out. She’d stopped collecting her tomatoes to watch the scene intently. She was probably trying to hear your conversation from the distance.

Slowly, you took a few steps back.

"Listen, let’s try to find a solution. Just... Come inside, before Mrs. Lawson makes up a whole story about us."

Henry swiftly glanced behind him, as if perplexed and he walked in. You closed the door as he did, and you grew even more nervous. His scent invaded your lungs, intoxicating. It was surprising, how you hated and liked it at the same time. Your heart started pounding when you didn't want it to. Your body seemed to follow its own instincts and they weren’t good. As you turned around, you tried to shrug off these unwanted emotions. Absolutely certain you could control them, you finally locked eyes with Henry Cavill. As soon as his blue gaze pounced on yours, you lost it. You lost everything.

Crossing your arms, you tried to sound and appear indifferent, denying the physical attraction, the animal desire that slowly but surely invaded your mind,

"Alright. How... How would we proceed ? We don't get along, you don't like me, and in case you didn't notice, we are more likely to kill each other than to live together."

Eyes absentmindedly wandering around, Henry took a few steps across the living room. Observing, he seemed like he was about to throw another unpleasing comment at you, maybe about the house or its furnitures, but he didn't. Instead, he just turned around to face you,

"I never said I didn't like you." he corrected you, impossibly calmly.

You raised your eyebrows,

"You've been rude to me from the start. And you didn't even feel the need to apologize."

Once more, Henry shrugged. It was his turn to cross his arms against his torso, his attitude displaying the sassiest aspects of his personality in one posture.

"I don't have to. You disturbed me, I told you to stop, you violently punched my window and broke it…"

Oh, god damn you Cavill.

Blood rushing to your head, you were about to jump like a lion and dig your claws deep into the soft skin of his throat to rip his head off.

“Shut up,” you raised your voice, “I got it, we're... different. We have our own opinions on how to behave with other people." you uttered, trying to manage your anger as he played with your nerves, "But apologizing doesn't always mean you're wrong and the other person is right. It just means you value your relationship more than your ego."

Tilting his head, Henry narrowed his eyes and contemplated you,

"My bad," he rasped, "I didn't know we were in a relationship. I apologize, then.”

At his words, you couldn't help but blush instantly.

"That's not what I meant..." you stuttered, but he came closer, his face only a few inches away from yours.

"While you decide the words you wish to speak wisely, Miss Y/L/N, will you or will you not let me live here temporarily, until this damn window you broke gets fixed ?" he asked, the tone of his voice deep and commanding.

Gaze plunged into his, you tried to utter something like a no. Your lips moved as to form the word, but not a sound came out of your mouth. Your heart was racing as if a predator was threatening to bite you, and yet you were completely turned on by the feeling. It didn’t make any sense to you. And it didn't make any sense either that you just nodded at him, accepting his proposition.

"Fine, you can stay."

-

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[rouge-wall-enthusiast]

Maybe this is weird, but I have some problems with how some woman characters looks were treated at the end of DGHDA season 2.  

I really really hate that Suzie Boreton’s magical “good looks” were taken away from her when she was trapped in the train.  I know she does some really horrible shit and kills a bunch of people, but it seemed like the body autonomy magic gave her was the only thing that made her feel good about herself.  Suzie isn’t like the Mage, who was created by a child to be the bad guy in a fairytale. She is meant to be a real human.  Other non-Wendimoor characters are allowed moral grey areas- even Friedkin was set up for a redemption arc!  I was fine with her being imprisoned in the train but the reversion to her earlier appearance felt like a punch to the gut and, I think, undermined a lot of the interesting ideas about woman-ness the show had been playing with. 

I also dislike the treatment of the Beast’s looks.  I started out liking her character.  Sure, the Beast was a woman character whose “romance” defined her, but she was so fucking weird that I really didn’t mind.  I also thought it was nice that she was able to leave Wendimoor where she seemed pretty unhappy.  I can get behind her joining the rowdy three, but I hate her appearance change.  Why should this funky, freaky, inhuman creature, who has never expressed unhappiness with her appearance, be made into a hot hippy?  Other Wendimoorians don’t look different on earth so why should she?  The only explanation I can think of is that she needed to look human so as not to raise questions on earth, but it seems unlikely that the Rowdys would give a fuck.  

Within the show’s universe, the only person with the power to change their appearances is Francis, who is actually very old and, I think, is supposed to be wise.  It seems pretty out of character that he would want to give Suzie extra pain, or that he would look at Beast and decide what she needed was a flat iron, shades, and a human forehead.  

Overall, these could seem like very small problems, but TV is visual, and the creators use visuals to tell us about the world.  DGHDA in particular was usually very intentional about the messages it was sending, so what were they trying to say when a woman is punished by becoming “ugly?”  On the other hand what does it day that the beast needs to be “pretty” to be accepted?  

[jadewritings]

The Other Nephilim Part Three

PAIRING: Castiel x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1k+

WARNINGS: Language, Fighting, Forced possession, Some self indulgent angst :)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Heyo! I just wanted to thank @auriel187 for helping me with this series and figuring out what the sequel will be like!

The boys stopped at a motel for the night. They’d driven farther than they thought as Y/N was quickly moving from town to town. Sam said he would go to the most recently deceased’s house and check things out in the morning. Dean nodded and plopped on his bed after throwing his bag on the small circular table in the corner of the room.

Jack was worried and began biting on his nails.

“Jack,” Cas gained the attention of the nephilim, “we’ll find her. I promise.” He laid his hand reassuringly on Jacks shoulder.

“Yeah, and when we do, what then? Dean wants to kill her. Castiel, I don’t know what to do. I finally have a chance for a family and it’s taken from me again.”

Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Jack, we are your family. Me, Dean and Sam. Y/N will make it through this and she’ll be just as much your family. I may not have known her long but she’s strong. That much I know. We’ll get her back.”

Jack sighed and laid back on his bed. They got two rooms, even though Castiel and Jack don’t have to sleep, it’s the thought that counts.

••••

Y/N was breathing heavily as she winced from the slight movements her body made on the floor. Lucifer had had his fun and left a few minutes ago. She didn’t once think he would do this if she disobeyed. Then again, she always went along with what he said, no questions asked.

Then she met Jack, and her once black and white world distorted into shades of grey. Things got confusing, she no longer felt like an empty vessel used for killing. But that all shattered when her father forced a possession on her. How? She didn’t know. Probably because he was hoop but she didn’t care for the details.

All she knew was that she couldn’t control her own body anymore. She could occasionally hear the screams of Lucifer’s killings. Either he had anger issues or he was doing it for fun. Maybe to torture her even more.

Now, she was determined. Determined to gain control and stop his rampage. She sucked in a breath and tried to get up from the ground. Only to fall back in a heap. Everything burned, his touch like acid on her skin. Black residue of goop burned her wounds even more.

Tears stung her eyes. She hated feeling so weak. She hated her father for lying to her. Using her for his own selfish gain. She was nothing. To anyone or anything. Just a tool.

She thought back to the angel her brother called a father. She imagined having a life with him. He would show her the kind of love she’s never felt before. Give her the world like she deserved and she would do the same for him.

Sobs escaped her mouth involuntarily.

She imagined kids and a white picket fence with neighbors that would invite them to cookouts. Her brother and the Winchester’s would even have their own little get togethers.

Jack would have a pregnant girlfriend, if they wanted kids. And they would all be happy. No monsters. No deaths. Just a happy little family, doing normal things that normal people would do.

But this wasn’t a fairytale and they weren’t normal people. Hell, were they even people at all?

Y/N grunted and pushed on her elbows to try to get up again. Her skin screamed in pain at the struggle and she eased herself down again.

No, she’d just rest for now. Save her strength. She’d send Lucifer straight back to where ever the hell will keep him. For good this time.

••••

When Dean woke up the next morning, his brother was already gone. Sam was always the early bird.

He grunted, rolling off the bed and rubbed his face before heading to the shower. He’d go talk to Jack afterwards.

When he was done, he walked out of the steam filled room to see Jack and Castiel already in the room.

“Did you at least bring some pie before we get this party started?” He asked, smirking to himself. He only received confused expressions before dropping the smile and rolling his eyes, towel drying his hair.

“Nevermind.”

“Dean, we need to talk.” Jack spoke, rather quickly.

Dean gave him a side glance, throwing his towel on the sink in the bathroom, “About?”

“Y/N.” He stated.

Dean got ready to argue but snapped his mouth shut when Jack interrupted.

“Just hear me out before you say anything.”

Dean looked to Castiel who only tilted his head and gave him a hard stare.

He sighed and crossed his arms, “Go ahead.”

“Look, I know you aren’t fond of my sister and you have good reason, but all I’m asking is give her a chance before you decide to kill her. I know something isn’t right. She wouldn’t just take off like that just to start killing again.”

“Jack, you said it yourself. She’s killed before. And she even said she enjoys it. That’s a bad guy in my book, and bad guys don’t get to live-”

“If it was Sam what would you do?” Jack interrupted.

“Excuse me?”

“If it was your brother, your family, what would you do?” Jack had hope in his eyes. This would convince Dean.

Dean was silent for a moment. For the paste 14 years, all he did was save Sam, even when his brother was the so called bad guy. When Lucifer possessed him, all he tried to do was save him. When he was addicted to the demon blood, all he did was save him. Every time, he was there for his little brother. Sammy.

Jack had a point and Dean’s momentary silence was all the answer he needed.

“She’s my sister, Dean. If I don’t try and save her, what kind of brother does that make me?”

Dean stared at the boy for a moment. In a way, Dean saw Jack as a little brother too and he’d do anything for him.

He sighed, “Fine. But if she’s back to doing Lucifer’s bidding, then she won’t be able to hide from me much longer, got it? I won’t hesitate.”

Jack nodded, “Thank you, Dean. I appreciate it, I really do.”

Dean waved his hand, dismissing him, “Yeah, yeah. No chick flick moments, remember?”

Jack nodded but smiled, “Right.”

At that moment, Sam barged through the door, in his FBI suit that they usually dawned in on a hunt.

“Ah, Sammy, nice of you to join us this fine afternoon.” Dean grinned.

Sam gave him a bitch face but continued on in his rushed state, “I have a lead. There was another body over at a warehouse on Landers street.”

Everyone got to moving, getting dressed, packing up their things.

Jacks heart sparked with hope but also fear. Maybe he was wrong. But he didn’t really feel that way. He would save Y/N. No matter what it took.

-PART FOUR-

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[measurelessdreamer]

New Olivarry fic!

The impossible happened and I managed to write (probably) my last Olivarry fic and I’m actually proud of myself XD If you want, feel free to read it here or down below! <3

Coffee Beans And Cakes, It's You For Whom My Heart Aches

Summary:  Barry Allen thought he was done with love. He had missed out all his chances and if love was supposed to be only unrequited in his case, then what the hell was the point? So he filled his life with routines and small pleasures to keep himself going and convince himself he was okay. He hadn't anticipated one of those routines would eventually sabotage him and turn his whole life around, but sometimes you just need to live in a lie for a while to be able to see the truth. Barry learned that the hard way.

Relationships: Barry Allen/Oliver Queen

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Slow Burn

Words: 13268

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Barry finally turned off his computer and hurried out of his lab, waving both Joe and Eddie with a smile, silently dodging their offers to accompany him which they both knew were fruitless to ask. It was his habit to stop by Jitters for his favorite kind of coffee and spend a few minutes in solitude just sipping and relishing the bittersweet taste he knew so well and today was no different. Being already twenty-nine, it was only normal to have his life filled with small routines like this that ultimately were the sole reason why he was able to be himself and not just some kind of zombie, struggling to see the point in waking up in the morning. Don't get him wrong. Sometimes, days got rough and he was on the zombie spectrum more than he would actually like, but when that happened, it was small pleasures like this that got him back to smiling and simply enjoying what he was supposed to no matter how much other people considered it crucial.

Nothing new ever happened during his afternoon visits to Jitters. He just loved that where people were usually swarming inside like bees in their hives he could have a peaceful time and think. It was liberating in ways not many people would understand but he didn't care. He just knew he wouldn't change this routine for anything. As hectic as his life sometimes was, this was something he wanted to keep intact no matter what. Too bad destiny had other ideas.

As expected, there were only a few people inside. One man was standing by the cash register, strikingly aggravated by the debate he was having with the barista, which Barry supposed looked more like an argument despite how the man, probably in his thirties, was trying to stay calm. Barry moved to stand a few feet next to him in a queue he just created, patiently waiting for his turn. He absolutely didn't mean to eavesdrop, his parents and Joe had raised him better than that, but he was standing right there and it wasn't his fault the man was apparently losing his patience and raising his voice as the result. Besides, he couldn't simply leave his spot unless he decided to skip the coffee and go home, which in his mind was not an option. Not even some uptight customer would change that, thank you very much.

So he just stood there and listened because what else was really there to do?

"Sir, I apologize, but I've already told you that this cake is reserved for the couple’s menu only. Feel free to choose any other, though. Surely we can come to an agreement we'll both like," the female barista said, doing her utmost best to remain as polite as possible even though Barry could see her resolve was on the brink of despair.

"I don't want any other cake," the man stated. "It's my son's favorite, always has been. We have it every time we're here. It never was 'reserved for a couple’s menu only' before so why now?"

"It's our policy to include some desserts for only specific types of menus and I'm sorry, but I don't make these rules."

"I understand, but can't you make an exception just this once? You'll get your money either way. Besides, it's not like this place is filled with people fighting for this particular cake and you're gonna close soon anyway."

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do, sir," the barista sighed and looked genuinely sorry and annoyed by this stupid policy too, but her hands were tied. Her boss probably wasn't one of the kindest people on this planet.

"Of course," the man scoffed. "It's funny, though. Not sure when exactly love of couples started being more important than love for your own damn child." The venom behind those words was borderline outrageous, even more, when Barry noticed how it made the barista slump her shoulders in defeat and shame, but it was probably the thing that caused Barry's life to change so radically that day. While everyone else would most likely judge the man for being too harsh on the woman, Barry focused on this customer's reasoning and intentions that were definitely meant to be good and decided to help out. That was how he'd been raised after all.

"Actually," he spoke, causing the barista to look at him, "he's here with me." What happened next was downright comical as the man literally froze mere inches before the exit door and spun around to gape, unabashed, at this man he'd never seen before, claiming they were a couple.

As tempted as Barry was to burst out laughing on spot, he formed a smile and turned to the barista that was staring him down skeptically. She wasn't stupid. Of course it was obvious he didn't know the man that just made his way back to them, still gaping at him, but then again, it wasn't like they needed some license or document to show they were dating. They just needed to convince her to either believe them or take pity on them. Whichever came first.

"I'm sorry about him," he started again, motioning to the man next to him. "He's not much of a people person, but he means well."

"And he's your boyfriend," the woman summarized, not buying a single word, and glanced at the other man. "Why didn't you say so before? You must have noticed him coming here."

"We usually keep it quiet. He's a bit shy, you know?" Barry clarified, letting his eyes fall on the man and locking them with his on instinct, suddenly finding it nearly impossible to look anywhere else besides the magnificent shade of blue boring into his. He almost forgot he was supposed to make sure the barista bought his little act. "Darling, I told you, you should've waited for me. We would've solved this together and spared your nerves. As much as I like the grey strands in your hair, smiling suits you better."

At this comment, the man openly glared at him, but his eyes, those incredibly pretty eyes, were glinting with amusement that kept Barry's smile intact without him even putting real effort in it.

"I was waiting for you," the man joined in. "for full ten minutes even. It's not my fault you're always late, honey."

"Seems that supertardiness is one of my powers. Glad it didn't stop you from falling in love with me."

"Believe me, I'm questioning myself about this all the time," the man teased and smirked.

Barry couldn't contain the small chuckle escaping his lips and the absolute wonder that this whole charade was going so well despite them having no clue who the other person was. Barry was too old to believe in fairytales, but part of him never stopped being a dreamer. It was probably why this connection between him and the blue-eyed stranger seemed to be almost magical like it wasn't just random luck but a plan in the grand scheme of things. But that was just silly and he was the fool for imagining otherwise when he was probably the only one feeling this.

Once he couldn't face these thoughts without breaking off his act of a loving boyfriend, he glanced at the barista and found her looking at them with an odd expression. Some sort of mixture of amusement and intrigue, probably, but then again he was only skilled in reading criminals per se, so he could be wrong. He put the question of figuring it out later to the back of his mind before he broke the silence that was on the brink of becoming awkward. "Could we have the couple’s menu, please?"

The woman snapped out of whatever trance she was in and beamed at them without any trace of her previous embarrassment intact, taking in their coffee orders and asking for their names, for which Barry was more grateful than ever since it was the most subtle way of finding out who the man was he could hope for.

"Barry." "Oliver." They both said at the exact same time, momentarily stunning the whole party. Barry's eyes once again met Oliver's, already getting lost in them and their spellbinding glimmer as if he had nothing better to do that day than openly stare.

"You seemed to be in real sync," the woman pointed out as she was writing the names right into the huge red hearts decorating the cups that were most definitely ordered for the sole purpose of labeling everyone who proved to be worthy of getting the couple's menu. It was sweet, but all Barry could do was inwardly laugh about it when he noticed how Oliver glared at the cups. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Oh, yeah, all the time. We're practically the same person," Barry answered and saw the tiny smile playing on Oliver's lips from the corner of his eyes for what it was, ignoring how elevated it instantly made him.

"You're really lucky, then," the woman said and smiled so warmly Barry almost started regretting they were so openly lying to her. But only almost.

"Hear that, Ollie? You're lucky to have me," he teased and, for reasons he probably won't ever be able to grasp, bumped his shoulder against Oliver's. He had no idea where this boldness came from, but the man next to him didn't recoil or stiffen and he decided to take that as a good sign.

"You shouldn't encourage him," Oliver said to the barista, shaking his head. "He's insufferable enough as he is."

"Says the guy who wanted to burn this whole place down minutes ago," Barry countered. "Don't you think an apology is in order? You're the one that keeps telling me agreements and rules are here to be followed not broken every time I'm late."

This time it was Oliver who moved closer, not out of fake affection like Barry had, though. Not that it really mattered to Barry's hammering heart once he felt a strong arm hooking around his shoulders and spreading warmth through his whole body as he heard the blue-eyed stranger whisper: "You're playing with fire."

However bewildered Barry was from the whole situation, he didn't let this intimidate him. "Do you want me to tell certain someone we both know that it's okay not to apologize for being a bit of a jerk?"

"I was not-" Oliver began but his words came up short when Barry just arched one of his eyebrows at him. He was probably having too much fun with this, but after having such a boring day at work, this was exhilarating to the bone and he couldn't get enough of it. "Fine," Oliver sighed in defeat and aimed his next words at the barista, who was once again dedicating them that same odd look like before. She smiled after hearing Oliver's apology and waved with her hand, saying she understood Oliver's outrage at the policy she didn't see the point of either.

"See?" Barry remarked and smiled. "Wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Oliver merely chuckled and only then let go of Barry's shoulders, making him involuntarily wonder why it caused a small downfall to his mood not to be so close to the older man anymore.

The barista once again saved him from any more uncomfortable questions his brain was so fond of sending his way when she asked whether they wanted to have the cake packed or not. When Oliver confirmed the former option, she sheepishly asked for the name of his son and wrote down "William" on the pink box covered in numerous hearts of various sizes, which once again didn't fail to make Barry chuckle. He got a glare aimed at him in return, but something was telling him every time Oliver did that, the venom behind it got less and less serious.

Once they had the cake safely in the box and their coffees in their hands, Oliver proceeded to pay before Barry could even get his wallet out. Had things been any different, he would have argued about this, but he figured it made sense that only one of them would pay since they were "together" and besides, he understood it for Oliver's way of saying thank you since Barry was the sole reason he got the cake for his son in the first place.

Barry anticipated they would exchange vague goodbyes after that since the barista was already too busy with another customer to pay them any mind and be on their way back to their lives as if nothing like this happened with the only difference that they now had a hell of a story to tell, but no such thing happened. Barry proceeded to go sit down to his usual spot and Oliver followed, awkwardly asking whether Barry would mind him sitting there with him, to which Barry merely smiled and nodded.

"It's nice to meet you by the way," he said, not raising his hand for a handshake and risking the barista would see. "Circumstances could've been better, but it was fun."

"You made that abundantly clear," Oliver deadpanned.

"Hey, you got your cake, didn't you? So if anything you should be grateful."

Oliver shook his head but smiled at his strained tantrum and Barry felt warm all over because he knew that meant the man was as grateful as he should be and Barry didn't need to hear the words to know that. Somehow just seeing was enough in this case and send his heart skyrocketing for no valid reason yet again.

"Why did you do it, though?" Oliver eventually asked.

Barry could reply with another teasing remark, but he decided to go with the truth instead. "Because you were right. When you said that love between two people who are a couple shouldn't mean more than the love parents have for their child. I'm pretty sure they have a suggestion box here somewhere. We might let them know what we think."

"And see them ignore it and keep doing whatever the hell they want? No thank you."

"Are you always this optimistic or should I just consider myself lucky?"

"It's just been a hectic week for me."

"Central isn't to your taste?"

"Is it that obvious that I'm not from here?"

"Only to people who you're fake-dating," Barry teased. "You're visiting or?"

"I've recently moved in, actually. To stay close to my son."

Weirdly enough, only then did some trivial realizations dawn on Barry. After all, he knew from Iris that a certain person of her interest had moved from Star City to Central recently. "You're Oliver Queen, right?"

"We're already on the full name basis? Here I thought you were one of those people that would take things slow in a relationship."

Barry's eyes widened in amusement after hearing an honest-to-god joke from the man who seemed anything but carefree not so long ago. "I consider our relationship too special for that."

"In that case, you should know it's not fair I don't know your full name."

"Barry Allen," Barry replied, unable to fight off his smile. Exchanging names like this had to mean something, right? If Oliver planned to forget this day even happened, that they met in such a crazy way, he surely wouldn't go through the trouble of staying there, talking with Barry and possibly finding out more, would he? More importantly, what was Barry promising himself to get out of this? What was he hoping all this meant?

"I bet your son is gonna love the box once he sees it," he changed the subject to keep his mind in here and now. "Horrid pink with hearts all over. Who wouldn't love such a creative design?"

Oliver openly laughed at the comment which Barry stored in his brain for safekeeping on instinct. "He's gonna love the story behind it even more."

The conversation didn't cease any time soon after that. Sure, there were moments of silence between them, but they all felt as natural as the times their mouths were overloaded with words. Whoever walked past them, there was no way they suspected Oliver and Barry had just met. It was like the barista said, they were awfully in sync to be mere strangers to each other. Barry could muse about it in his head, but he knew that wouldn't get him anywhere he liked and so he just kept the conversation flowing as effortlessly as before.

They left the coffee shop together. Oliver thanked him again, with words this time, and after they exchanged goodbyes and smiles, that was it. Barry was on his way home, feeling like the world could collapse and he wouldn't notice because while his legs were moving, his mind had failed to leave Oliver's side just yet. Once he realized it, he chastised himself for keeping his hopes up when the odds of him seeing Oliver again were so close to zero it hurt. Not in a way how hearing Iris and Eddie were getting married did, of course, but it still hurt more than it probably should have considering everything. So he decided to stop thinking about it once and for all and just get on with his life, back to his routines and stability.

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To his utter surprise, he found out that it wasn't even remotely that simple when he walked into Jitters the next day and noticed Oliver waiting for his turn. He politely said hi as he passed by and was stunned to the bone when Oliver not only said it back but engaged him in the conversation before he could get too far. Just like that, they fell right back in whatever force was making sure they felt good in each other's company. And once it was their turn to order, somehow, without either of them confident enough to explain it, they just knew they were gonna drink from the cups covered in love again. It was a silent agreement between them. That day and every one that followed until it became another routine bringing joy to Barry's life.

Oliver rarely decided to take the cake currently on the offer with him home. Instead, he ordered just one piece which they both shared as they were sipping on their coffees and talking. Neither of them minded the charade they had to keep going in order to convince every barista that they were indeed a couple. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to risk someone calling them on their bullshit one day or not being able to live without having their coffees served in the horrid looking colors. The couple's menu was cheaper than getting all of it separate and while that shouldn't matter since the cheapest approach would be paying solely for their own coffees by themselves and not getting any cake, it made perfect sense to both of them when the possibility to spend the time together was on the table. Most of the baristas didn't care about whether they were telling the truth or not either. Only the woman from the first day did even though Barry was pretty sure she was fully aware they were only faking and just kept her mouth shut to keep the game going.

That was probably why Barry was doing it too. It was fun, exhilarating and yet so natural he didn't feel nervous or under any kind of pressure even when he forgot to watch himself and leaned maybe just too close to Oliver's personal zone. Then he remembered that he was supposed to fake they were in love after all and he leaned all the way in, using Oliver's biceps as a pillow or squeezing his shoulder and relishing in how it felt when Oliver returned the gesture.

It didn't take long before these moments in Jitters started being his favorite part of the day. He was no longer questioning the magical vibe between them. It was just warming him to the core that he had a friend who was so easy to talk to. With Iris being busy planning her own wedding, he had every right to miss such simple interactions that were about serious talk as much as it was about merely messing around. Two months of these regular meetings passed and he felt like Oliver could safely compete with both Joe and Iris about who knew him best and possibly come of it as the winner and from what he learned from Oliver, the feeling had to be somewhat mutual.

One day, however, turned out to be different after all when Barry entered Jitters and couldn't see Oliver anywhere inside the coffee shop. His face fell down for a split second before he realized he was being ridiculous, relying on a deal they never had in the first place. Oliver was his own person after all. He couldn't expect the billionaire to come there every day for the rest of their lives. Besides, it was probably a sign that Oliver had grown tired of their silly charade and this was his way of showing they needed to stop. Barry could understand that although he was definitely going to miss the cups where Oliver's name would occasionally be written with a small heart above the letter "i" instead of a dot. Even the mere thought made him smile despite how bitter he was still feeling.

But then the door to the coffee shop opened and there was Oliver with his blue eyes so bright Barry supposed all those magazines were rightfully going mad over them. Not that he'd read any of them, but he knew from all those times Iris' celebrity crush would be showing just a tiny bit too much.

Their eyes fell on each other, making Barry's heart leap in his chest when Oliver dedicated him one of his rare but immensely warm smiles. It was as if this one moment, however brief, was straight out of a romance novel, ending in the most horrid way ever when Barry noticed Oliver didn't come alone that day.

As soon as the blonde woman with glasses and a smile so charming Barry felt his stomach drop, leaving him utterly confused because what the hell, Oliver looked at her and Barry supposed that was that. He watched them interact, witnessing Oliver dedicate her the same smile, and fighting not to visibly squirm. She was really pretty and they looked good together. Barry should be happy for his friend because that was what they were. Friends. They were not together. Never would be. Not because Oliver wouldn't handle being in a serious relationship, Barry knew him well enough to know that was just bullshit the tabloids kept feeding to maintain interest among their readers, but because they were just pretending and that was okay. It was what they both wanted.

But then why did he suddenly feel so hollow?

He didn't get a chance to find out that day when he noticed both Oliver and the woman with him were making his way to him. Shit, shit, shit, what was he supposed to do? To say? What if they noticed him staring and thought he was weird? What if this woman was going to scold him for making the whole coffee shop believe he was dating her boyfriend? What if Oliver no longer wanted anything to do with him?

"No supertardiness today?" Oliver quipped. "Some special occasion?"

"If by special you mean Captain Singh was again in one of his moods, which was worse than usual and made me pretty much run away from there, then yeah," Barry replied, trying to be as nonchalant as possible and hoping to God it was playing off.

"Captain Singh from the CCPD?" the woman asked. "You work there?"

"As a forensic scientist," Barry confirmed and frowned. "And you are?"

"Oh, I'm Felicity. Smoak," the woman beamed and extended her hand. "I'm only asking because I'm applying for a job there."

"Barry Allen. And really? What kind?"

"Hacking. Not the bad kind, like stealing people's money or anything! Although I could do that, but only if it was meant to do good. Not that I think people should steal. They definitely shouldn't do that. Especially not when there could possibly be another way how to solve their situation."

"I think he gets it, Felicity," Oliver gently pitched in.

"Right, sorry! I'm just... I'm supposed to have my interview tomorrow and I thought I was fine, but now after hearing you talk about Captain Singh I feel like applying was the worst idea I ever had."

"Hey, it's okay," Barry said. "I'm sure it'll go fine. Besides, he's a lot nicer to newcomers even potential ones. Just convince him he needs you and you'll get the job."

"Wow," Felicity gasped and looked at Oliver, "you were right. He really does know what to say to make people feel better."

"I didn't say that," Oliver denied and if Barry didn't know him any better he would think he was blushing, but that was just a silly thought, wasn't it?

"Oh yeah, just like you don't come here every day at the exact say time, right? I wonder, is it because of the coffee or something else?"

"Actually, it's for the cakes," Barry joined and earned himself another glare that made him feel warm all over.

"Of course! I knew I wasn't imagining that there was something different about you. Now I know why," Felicity said, glancing briefly at Oliver's abdomen. But there was no harsh truth behind her words and they all knew it. She and Barry were just messing around. Oliver's torso, chest, basically everything definitely couldn't have been considered to be anything but dreamy not that Barry was picturing it or anything, but he had eyes and it was clear that Oliver was in good shape and that was that. It didn't have to go anywhere else.

"Well, I'm definitely not paying for either of you today, that's for sure," Oliver grumbled and turned to face the barista to order now that it was their turn.

"You're lucky we don't put up with you for your money, then," Felicity remarked, Oliver pretended he didn't hear it even though it was obvious he did and Barry could only stare at how carefree the whole situation was despite him almost bolting out of there mere minutes ago. Felicity's natural light just made it that easy to stay and have a good time. Oliver was really lucky to have her.

The billionaire didn't plan to order the couple’s menu that day, but before Barry could compose himself enough to make it seem like he didn't mind, which he really shouldn't anyway so what the hell, brain, yet again, Felicity cut the billionaire off and asked the barista to give him and Barry the couple’s menu, vouching for them that the man wouldn't find two people more in love in the whole city. Oliver rolled her eyes but let her have it her way, ignoring her every teasing remark about the romance-themed cups coming their way. Barry was too stunned to really pay them any mind as they were making a beeline for one of the tables.

Before they sat down, Oliver's phone suddenly buzzed, making him curse under his breath as he fished it out of his pocket. Barry figured it must be something related to his work when the billionaire just apologized to them, claiming he had to take it and marched outside with his coffee.

"Must be important," Barry pointed out sadly, remembering this wasn't the first time their afternoon got a bit ruined by Oliver's phone.

"He takes his job seriously. It wasn't always like that, but since he's had William, he's a changed man."

"You must be proud of him."

"More than anything."

"How long have you been together, by the way?"

Felicity almost chocked on her coffee. "Come again? Together as in being an item? Because we're not that. We might have been something before, but now we're just friends."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought-"

"I guess that makes sense. He's the guy everyone has a crush on and once you get to know him, it's even worse. I fell hard far too quickly and it was working for a while, but eventually, we both figured we were better off as friends. It wasn't meant to be for us."

"I'm really sorry to hear that." And he really was despite how his heart skipped a beat upon hearing the information.

"Don't be," Felicity shrugged. "It's better now. Really. He needs someone he has no problem to talk to. I wasn’t it for him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a place in his life. And what about you? Do you have someone like that?”

He should've known this topic would turn against him and he had no reason to be upset since his feelings had never passed the “unrequited love” stage. Felicity's obviously had. She'd gotten a chance with Oliver, they'd been happy for some time and then life had decided to take it from them. He'd had numerous opportunities to do something about his feelings and he hadn't. He had no one else to blame but himself. But maybe that was why it hurt so much even after such a long time.

"Nope, it's just me. I mean, I have family and friends, they are everything to me, but I don't have anyone... like that. There was this one person, but I... I never said how I felt and they're getting married next week so... it's just me."

"Oh, Barry, I'm so sorry," Felicity consoled.

"It's fine," he waved off and for the first time ever felt like these words represented the truth in his heart. Even if it was only remotely, he couldn't dwell on this for the rest of his life. He needed to move on sooner or later and it seemed like subconsciously, he'd already begun. "Just wasn't meant to be, but it's better to know that now than find out years later, right?"

"Yeah, it might not mean much right now, but I believe things like this don't work out for a reason. One day we'll both be grateful for it."

He smiled and nodded. "I think you might be onto something, Miss Smoak." His eyes then fell on Oliver who was still outside, talking relentlessly to whoever was on the other side of that call. In the chilly day of November, the billionaire looked barely as if he'd even registered the cold despite the visible puffs of air coming out of his mouth and reddened cheeks. He looked like he belonged there and Barry found it impossible to look away.

"What about Oliver?" he cleared his throat and looked at Felicity who was watching him with an expression he didn't dare to figure out. "Does he have anyone like that?"

Felicity glanced at her friend with a smile. "I don't think so. Not officially at least, but he's been different these past few weeks so I'd say someone has appeared in his life even though it's likely he hasn't realized it yet."

Barry wasn't sure how he felt about that. He considered Oliver a friend, one of the special ones even, so, of course, he wished to see him happy, but just imagining that one day the billionaire would come here to drink from love-themed cups and share one piece of cake with someone else, some beautiful woman probably, it... didn't sit right with him.

He probably got too used to having these meetings in Jitters as a constant in his life. With Oliver being the fundamental part of it. After Iris and Eddie got busy preparing their wedding and he found it goddamn hard to be in their presence, it really made sense that he would need someone new in his life. He had Cisco, Caitlin, Wally and Ralph he was thankful for it every day, but sometimes, you just need something new or to do things differently than you normally would to see everything from a new perspective and ultimately appreciate what you had all along.

His life just seemed so much easier with a cup decorated with hearts in his hands, an indicator that it's essential to find the time to mess around sometimes and to forget about everything else. It reminded him of the times he'd spent with Iris, those little moments when they would just put their feet up and talk about whatever till it was too late to even hope they would get enough sleep that night. And for the first time, he felt determined to reach out to her.

"You look like you just figured out something," Felicity pointed out. "Something good, I hope."

"Remains to be seen, I guess," Barry said but smiled with all sincerity within him.

"That actually reminds me... Are you by any chance free this Friday night?"

"Uh, yes? If this is about Captain Singh again, then I assure you that while he has bad days, he never made me work on Friday night."

"That's... good to know, sure, but it's not why I'm asking. It just so happens that I was supposed to go with Oliver and William to the movies this Friday, but something came up and I don't want the ticket to go to waste. You and Oliver really seem like you hit it off so the ticket is yours if you want it."

"Um, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not? You're Oliver's friend like me and if you're worried about William, he's thirteen and so basically, all he cares about is seeing that movie. He won't pay you that much attention and even if he did, just remember that he puts up with Oliver so you'll definitely be fine."

Barry wanted to say yes. It wasn't even his anxiety caused by meeting William for the first time holding him back from voicing out that one damn word. Oliver had talked about his son enough times for Barry to know William wasn't anyone to be wary of. He was into comics, movies, tv shows, and video games and Oliver was proud of him. It was apparent from every single word the billionaire uttered about his son. That counted for something. Had William been a spoiled brat, there would never be this spellbinding glint of content in Oliver's eyes.

So really, William was not the problem. But then what was?

He eventually settled for "I'll think about it," and maybe got a bit more relieved than he should have when Felicity flashed him a smile and nodded. They both noticed Oliver finally hung up and was now making his way back to them.

"Sorry about that," the billionaire said as he took his seat. "What did I miss?"

"Barry is going with you and William to the movies!" Felicity announced and watched both men gawp at her.

"That's not-" Barry started, but Felicity shushed him with a wave of her hand. "Oh come on, you were gonna say yes. You won’t regret it, I swear. Besides, it will make Oliver immensely happy if you come. Isn't that right, Oliver?"

Oliver stared at her hard, but seeing she wouldn't relent, he sighed and looked at Barry. "Yeah, what she said. But only if it's no trouble for you."

Barry didn't have any other choice than to cave in. Oh, what the hell, he thought, it was ridiculous that they hadn't met one single time outside Jitters anyway. "What movie are we seeing?"

"Ready Player One. Have you seen it already?" Felicity asked.

Barry had actually. The other day he went with Cisco, but it also didn't go unnoticed by him how the corners of Oliver's lips quirked into a tiny a smile as he agreed to go and he found himself ecstatic to see that movie again even though he was fully aware the motion picture itself had very little to do with it.

"No, but I always wanted to. I never pictured you to be into this kind of movies, though," he said to Oliver.

"You're implying I'm getting old?"

"N-no! Of course not! It's just that-"

"Relax, Barry," Felicity chuckled, "that's just your fake boyfriend making fun of you. There's no need to get all flustered for him. It doesn't do his ego any good."

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her and for a few seconds, Barry had the time to look away and at least try to figure out why today everything was so different. Why he was so flabbergasted when he should be just having a good time with Oliver like he always would. Felicity was nice and kind so there was no reason to even consider she had something to do with this, but something did. And why the hell couldn't he get to the bottom of it?

When Felicity and Oliver turned their attention back to him, he formed a smile, hoping neither of them could see how strained it was. It wore off quickly and soon he was back to talking with them like it was that easy. But then they were parting ways and Barry saw Felicity hug Oliver and he felt his insides churning and the bitterness was back. He needed to get his shit together before Friday would come. Leaving the impression he was weird shouldn't be the first thing he does in front of William, especially now when he really wanted to come and spend his Friday this way. So he told himself to suck it up and try to see the bigger picture here. It probably wasn't as big of a problem as he was making it out to be anyway.

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They had agreed to meet outside the movie theater and Barry was actually on time or at least that was what he first thought, but then the main entrance came to his sight and he stopped dead on his tracks. Because there Oliver and William were and he couldn't hear them. They were too far and the streets of Central were as alive as ever, but to him, there was no noise because the whole world fell silent. He just watched, surrounded by the imaginary tranquility, Oliver and William talking.

It looked like William was trying to explain something he considered amazing and Oliver was giving him his utmost attention. The billionaire must have understood something wrong, though, or at least pretended to because the next thing that happened was William shaking his head incredulously and soon falling into a round of laughter, which Oliver mirrored. He had definitely faked it, then, just to get his son to laugh like this. Before Barry knew it, he smiled at the scene before him almost feeling sorry he had to break it with his appearance, but after witnessing this little and yet meaningful interaction between the two, he felt much more relaxed than when he'd left his apartment that night.

"You're late," Oliver told him once he noticed him.

Barry innocently shrugged, not regretting his reasons for violating his punctuality that night. "I didn't want you to feel special, thinking I was trying for you. Your ego is already big enough as it is."

Before Oliver could counter the snarky comment, William snorted and all attention fell on him. "So this is the Barry you've been talking about?"

"He talks about me?" Barry asked, amused.

"Oh yeah, like all the time."

"He doesn't mean that. He's just trying to be funny," Oliver said and Barry smiled as their eyes locked for a brief moment. "I figured. Wonder who he got it from, though."

"Hear that, Dad? I'm just learning from the best like you taught me."

"Just get inside before I change my mind and we go home," Oliver replied, but the way he shook his head with an amused smile he couldn't fight was the only indicator they needed to know his threat wasn't meant to be serious at all. William looked like he wanted to say one more thing but chose to rather stay silent and go inside anyway with Oliver and Barry following behind. Once inside, he sent them to buy some snacks and drinks while he went to the washroom. Barry just found it endearing how Oliver rolled his eyes at his son being so bossy. Still having the moment between Oliver and William that was the reason he'd come late freshly on his mind, he was more than thrilled that he had come here in the end. Hearing Oliver talk about William was something he always enjoyed, it would always uncover this side of Oliver he doubted many people could see. But actually seeing them interact pushed it into a completely new level and he knew he would regret it if he didn't get to find out about that.

"He's cute," he said as they were waiting in the line.

"Don't let him hear you. He would never forget that."

"But it's true."

"He's thirteen. Saying he's 'cute' might as well be an insult to him."

"Oh yeah? And what’s your excuse? Because I remember you being bothered every time I called you cute in front of the baristas.”

“I wasn’t... bothered.”

“You calling me a liar, darling?”

“Nope, just delusional,” Oliver deadpanned and got away with it only because it was their turn to order. Once that was done the man behind the cash register looked at them and asked: “I don’t mean to intrude, but are you, guys, a couple?” Before they could answer he went on. “Because we have this offer going for tonight. We’ll give you a small bucket of chocolate covered cinnamon bears for half the price if you’re a couple.”

Barry had to chuckle at that because really what were the odds of two establishments having such a similar offer, but then another thing shocked him. Both he and Oliver remained silent, no longer trying to say that they were just friends hanging out even though that was the truth. Instead, they looked at each other, reading where they stood from each other's faces without any difficulty. What the hell, William was definitely going to be ecstatic about the extra snack anyway.

"Yeah, we're together and we'd love to have that bucket," Barry said, but there was something different about saying those words even though he had said similar ones so many times he'd already lost count. He saw Oliver smiling at him and that somehow caused the whole world to freeze and mute again, overwhelming him with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth. The next thing he remembered was Oliver handing him the said bucket with numerous brown bears inside and the two of them making their way to William who was already waiting for them in front of the entrance to the auditorium.

"You took your time," William concluded, clearly more intrigued than mad when he lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

"Yeah, that's on me," Barry said. "But we got you this, so all forgiven?"

William took the small bucket and beamed for a split second before he looked back at Barry, all serious again. "You're all good. This time. But I'll be watching you so you don't teach my dad your habit of always coming late. Like I said, he talks about you a lot."

"I believe what William meant to say was 'thank you', right, buddy?" Oliver mildly chastised his son.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," William said and rolled his eyes when Oliver arched his eyebrows at him expectantly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Barry and Oliver said in unison, which made William snort before he took his drink from Oliver's hands and motioned for them to follow him. "We should get inside. It's gonna start soon."

Both men followed him and sat down at their rightful place with William sitting between them, exchanging the bucket with cinnamon bears for the one filled with popcorn with his dad, obviously saving that for later, which made Barry smile for probably the hundredth time that night. It wasn't like he minded, though, when it was making him feel warmer than he ever had. Even when the movie started, his mind didn't completely get the hint it was time to focus on the screen instead of the two people beside him. He was actually glad he had already seen the picture. That way it didn't matter how many times his eyes flew over to Oliver and William to watch them for a few minutes instead because he would still be up to date. He just couldn't help it.

It was clear the screening of Ready Player One was going to end for good soon. Most people had already seen it and thanks to that the auditorium was almost completely empty. Barry had never witnessed anything like it since he'd always been into movies and wanted to see them as soon as possible, but this solitude was really... nice. It gave Oliver and William the room to comment on what was happening on the screen without needing to worry they were disturbing someone else.

William would occasionally brag about how much more pop culture references he could spot than Oliver and no matter what, the billionaire didn't attempt to silence him, to put him down. He didn't get bored, he listened to all his son said and even looked truly immersed by the movie. The sight made Barry so spellbound he couldn't stop staring for several minutes and even when he eventually forced himself to watch the screen and not look away again, his mind stayed there in that magical moment. Everything he'd seen that night convinced him that Oliver was a good father, which was another thing tabloids never got right. Their loss, he thought and kept smiling till the end of the movie.

After they left the movie theater, William excused himself again when he spotted one of his friends from school to go say hi.

"I'm really glad I came with you, guys," Barry said once he was alone with Oliver.

"Even though you've already seen the movie before tonight?" the billionaire asked and chuckled when Barry's eyes widened. "Yeah, I knew the whole time. You might be an amazing forensic scientist, but that doesn't mean you can lie."

"I don't know if I should take this as a compliment or an insult."

"Take it as me showing my gratitude you came anyway, then. I keep hearing it's not one of my stronger suits."

"Oliver Queen is actually bad at something and openly admitting it? Has the world started ending while I wasn't watching or what?" Barry teased and chuckled when the billionaire rolled his eyes at him in that affectionate way he did with William. Then, however, Barry’s phone buzzed, alerting him of a message from Iris. Being reminded he had to attend her wedding and that he still wasn't completely okay with it, his mood fell down so radically Oliver would have to be blind not to notice.

"Hey, you okay?" he gently asked with nothing else but clear concern written all over his face.

"It's nothing," Barry lied, all too aware Oliver could tell and expecting to be questioned about this further, but the billionaire didn't say anything. He just nodded, seemingly content to let the silence stretch out and let this be the way of how this amazing night was supposed to end. Barry should've been grateful that his friend wasn't prying, but for some reason, he decided to clarify regardless.

"You remember how I mentioned two of my friends getting married?"

"Iris and Eddie, right?"

"That's them. And it's happening next Tuesday and I just...," he trailed off, not even knowing where he was going with this.

"You don't feel like you're ready yet," Oliver finished for him, obviously remembering all that Barry had willingly shared with him about his bitter experience with love. If the circumstances were any different, Barry would be touched that Oliver cared so much he listened and remembered all that had been said between them. But like this, he just felt embarrassed to the bone.

"Barry, there's nothing wrong with taking your time," the billionaire said and although Barry believed his words, there was just something odd about the way he said them. Or maybe it was about the special kind of sadness he could see in these piercing blue eyes before him. He couldn't decipher what it meant for anything and it was driving him mad because here he was, bothering Oliver with his problems when the latter could be possibly dealing with something much worse and just keeping it to himself to have this weight solely on his shoulders. Now that was pathetic and for a while, Barry felt speechless until he remembered what amazing time he'd been having every time he'd met with Oliver and an idea popped up in his head.

"Come with me," he said before he could think better on it.

"What?"

"To the wedding. As my plus one."

Oliver stared him down, obviously not buying he was being serious. "You want me to go to a wedding and pretend we're together in front of dozens of people?"

"Why not? We're already pretending and obviously doing a good job."

"You call fooling a bunch of baristas, people we don't know, a good job?"

Barry slumped his shoulders and let his head fall when it occurred to him how ridiculous he was being. Of course pretending in front of his friends and family would be different and honestly, he had no right to ask that of Oliver so what the hell was wrong with him? Was he really so scared of facing Iris and Eddie that he forgot he and Oliver were in this together as equals? Since when was he so selfish?

"You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know why I even suggested it. Just forget it happened," Barry pleaded and looked up only after he heard William making their way to them.

They said their goodbyes quickly after that, which made Barry hate himself immensely more. He just had to ruin a perfect evening like that, didn't he? He wondered what that meant for him and Oliver. Whether the billionaire was upset and would ditch their regular meetings in Jitters or worse, ditch him completely. He got his answer at least partly the next Monday when he went to Jitters and Oliver wasn't there. But honestly, he had no one else to blame but himself so he took the coffee with him outside, feeling the breath of winter embracing him mercilessly and taking it as the punishment for being such a fool as it was and he went home, already trying to prepare himself for tomorrow.

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Surprisingly, interacting with both Iris and Eddie wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. Somehow the bond he had with them found its way to work again despite his disbelief and talking with them felt easy. Even seeing them together, stealing glances, smiling and just being happy gave him this vibe that it was how it was supposed to be. They belonged together. It was as clear as a day when they were both glowing in the most beautiful way there was.

Barry felt happy for them as sincerely as he should have right from the start. It made him realize he had been even more of a fool all this time. He could have honestly enjoyed this wedding, but the way he'd parted ways with Oliver last Friday was all he could think of. He could deny it all he wanted every time someone asked him if he was okay, but it didn't make his pain disappear or him forget about it. The ceremony hadn't even started yet, but he already knew he had to fix this somehow or at least try. He would call Oliver after the wedding or maybe come to his apartment. What if Oliver wasn't home or refused to let him in? What if he didn't want to have anything to do with him ever again?

He was so immersed with what-ifs and maybes that he failed to realize everyone around him turned their attention away from wherever it was to openly stare at something. He got out of his trance only after the voice he knew all too well found its way to his ears.

"Seems that you're already rubbing off me," Oliver said with a smile. "But unlike you, I have a valid excuse for being late. I had to find out which wedding was the right one. Did you know there are two other weddings happening today? It's November. Who gets married in a goddamn November?"

"That'd be us," Eddie said cheerily as he and Iris appeared beside them. "You have to forgive us. We just couldn't wait any longer to make this official. Besides, we had no idea Oliver Queen himself would come by."

"It's such an honor to meet you, Mr. Queen," Iris babbled out and punched Barry on his arm, which finally made him overcome his shock of seeing Oliver there. "Why didn't you tell me you were bringing someone with you when I asked?"

"Actually, that's on me," Oliver claimed. "It wasn't the plan. I just changed my mind in the last second."

"You did?" Barry blurted out as the fool he was, still unable to believe this was really happening.

Oliver looked at him and smiled so warmly Barry thought his heart was going to burst and that was no longer normal. Even in his standards. He knew he was missing something, but figuring it out seemed still so out of reach. "You're gonna introduce me to your friends or not?"

"Right, sorry. Iris and Eddie, this is Oliver," he said, suspecting Oliver was daring him to introduce him as his boyfriend. Barry, however, said or implied no such thing and just left the introduction as it was. With a single look at both Iris and Eddie he could tell they saw them as the couple they weren't. He had no idea why he refused to tell them they were wrong, though.

"How long have you known each other?" Iris asked.

"Just a few months," he replied and somehow the conversation kept going until Iris and Eddie excused themselves to get ready and Barry finally had time to talk to Oliver alone.

"Why did you come? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but... when I didn't see in you in Jitters yesterday, I thought..."

"I'm not so easy to get rid of, Barry, don't worry. Besides, there's booze and cake for free. You know me, how could I say no to that?"

Barry laughed at that and squeezed Oliver's arm in the affectionate way they were both used to by now. "Thank you, Ollie."

Oliver dedicated him another smile and that was that. The two of them never left each other's side for too long during the whole event. They fell into a conversation with numerous people Barry knew, Joe, Cisco, Caitlin, Wally, Dr. Wells, Ralph, all of them obviously suspecting he and Oliver weren't just friends and yet Barry didn't correct any of them because he was having such an amazing time that he thought this would totally ruin it and he didn't want to do that the way he had the last time.

Being with Oliver just felt so refreshing and easy, he didn't feel like the stranger he'd been worried he would be all this time. He was bursting with gratitude and he wanted Oliver to know that because he was all too aware the billionaire had helped him to heal from his unrequited feelings and how they'd broken him. He thought the damage couldn't be erased or conquered, but thanks to Oliver that was exactly what had happened without him knowing all along.

This was what kept him smiling during the whole ceremony as he watched Iris and Eddie exchange their vows. His eyes fell on Oliver's hand right next to his and he had no idea what possessed him right at that moment, but the next thing he knew, he lightly stroked the back of Oliver's hand with the tips of his fingers and before he could freak out, Oliver turned his hand with his palm up and stopped his own hand from retracting. Barry relaxed and entangled his fingers with Oliver's, letting the all too familiar feeling of warmth by now spread and his heart go skyrocketing at the contact.

They didn't let go for the rest of the ceremony and Barry was pretty sure no one was watching them, trying to determine if they were together or not. This right there was just for them and only after they had to stand up and let go, it occurred to Barry to actually wonder whether he knew the answer to the one question of all those people staring at them. He'd been pretending all this time to be in love with his friend. Had it really gotten so out of hand that he failed to notice he stopped faking it somewhere along the way without taking any hint?

Suddenly, he felt like the whole world was going to collapse on him. Remembering all those times his knees went weak upon seeing Oliver smile or when a shiver ran down his spine upon standing so close to the billionaire their bodies were almost touching. Back then, he was too exhilarated that he could still make friends, that he had made a friend as amazing as Oliver and that after all this time he finally felt normal and content and... happy. He'd been healing all this time and he just didn't know, but now it all made sense and the realization was more than just dreadful.

Because how could he expect Oliver to ever feel the same? Oliver Queen whom every girl wanted, who was funny and much more thoughtful than anyone would expect him to be, who was an amazing father who cared about small things and would always do anything to make his loved ones happy. And who, most importantly, was straight. Barry inwardly cursed. He was so screwed he wanted to cry. How had he let this happen? Why couldn't he just stay out of the quarrel the day he'd met Oliver? Why couldn't he just stop going with this play of pretending they were in love so willingly?

Everything was caving in. The world suddenly felt too loud and his head hurt. He desperately needed to get out for at least a minute, so he marched towards the nearest exit, not giving even a tiny bit of damn that it was too cold to stand outside only in his suit. All he wanted was to think in silence and peace, but even that seemed to be too much to ask when he noticed Oliver came after him, all perfect and dashing, making Barry's body wanting to react despite him being all too aware Oliver was the last person he wanted to see right at that moment.

"Hey," the billionaire said with concern written all over his face yet again and Barry wanted to laugh at the irony that Oliver himself was partly the reason for it and just didn’t know about it. "Is everything alright? If it's too much for you to be here, we can leave. Just say the word."

"No, it's not that," Barry sighed, unable to look at him. "Everything's fine. I just needed to get some air and think."

"Alright. Then I leave you to it. Just don't stay here too long. I have a feeling Joe would blame me if you froze to death."

Barry didn't laugh as he was supposed to. He didn't even smile or look at Oliver who turned away to leave. But that was the thing, deep inside Barry didn't want him to leave. Not like he had last Friday and not like he was leaving now, which was why he uttered that question he couldn't let go no matter what. "Why did you come, Oliver? The real reason this time."

The billionaire came closer and spoke after letting out a huge exhale. "Just wanted to make sure you'd be okay."

Barry knew Oliver well enough to know it was true, but he also knew him enough to figure out it wasn't all Oliver had to say. "I was doing okay. You saw that so you could leave any time you wanted, but you stayed anyway. Why?"

"If you wanted me to leave, Barry, you should've said so."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then tell me what's wrong."

Barry took a deep breath, trying to make sense of the mess his thoughts were in and failing to find the right words, growing more agitated with every passing second because Oliver was waiting for him to explain what was going on with him and he so desperately wanted to but found it too hard to even say anything at that point.

"Everyone inside thinks we're together," he finally said.

"So? I thought that was the plan. The two of us, pretending and lying to your family and friends, or did I get it wrong?" Oliver said and Barry knew that was meant to hurt.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Oliver denied but sighed when it was obvious Barry wouldn't let go. "I just find it interesting that lying to those you love is comes easy for you. You could've introduced me as your friend and denied there was more between us, but you didn't."

"From what I gathered you didn't deny anything either."

"Well, maybe because I didn't want to deny whatever they were thinking in the first place. Ever thought of that?" Oliver almost growled or maybe that was what Barry's messed up brain was telling him it was because at this point he really wasn't sure anymore. It felt like the world was trying to fool him, daring him to fall for its tricks just one more time and come of it finally broken for good because there was no way he had just heard that right. Oliver couldn't have said any of that because it just didn't make any sense. Not that it mattered because Barry's brain completely shut down once he finally noticed how close they were standing, looking directly into each other's eyes, unable to look anywhere else.

Barry's heart was hammering against his ribcage, deafening any other sound and most importantly all his common sense from trying to bring him back to reality. He didn't know how to respond, what to say, he just wanted to know what it felt for at least one fucking second and so in a flash, he connected their lips in the most horrible angle he could have and let it all crumble on him, ceasing to care completely whether Oliver would rebuff him, shove him away and never speak to him again. He just needed to know it was real. That he hadn't imagined ever falling for his best friend again and that he didn't wish more than anything to stop pretending.

He got much more, though, because Oliver didn't break away from him at all. Against all Barry's expectations, Oliver fixed their angle like it was the easiest thing on this world and kissed him back as zealously as possible, making Barry feel he could burst any second with pushing it even further and biting on Barry's nether lip, requesting an entrance Barry granted on instinct and moaned at the sensation, feeling his pants rapidly getting too tight to his liking, but he wasn't ready to let it end just yet. It was a dream coming true for him. Who would want something like that to end?

"I knew it! I knew I wasn't hallucinating it," Cisco's voice suddenly came to the surface and broke the trance he and Oliver were in, causing them to jump from the embrace and Barry wanting to die right on spot.

"Cisco, what hell, man? What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you two. It's time to cut the cake and Iris wants you there. Although I'm pretty sure she'd be willing to let it slide if she knew you were this... busy. I mean, Oliver Queen? Common mortals like us weren't enough for you or what?"

"You do realize I'm right here and I can hear you just fine?" Oliver asked, openly glaring at Cisco who backed away immediately. "Right, sorry. I'm just gonna run from this not at all awkward moment and say you're both alright."

"We'll be right behind you," Barry promised and tried to pull off a smile which was probably more strained than ever before he turned to face Oliver with an unreadable expression on his face. "That was..."

"Close," the billionaire finished for him. "It's a good thing he caught us like this instead of us arguing. I can imagine you being questioned about having troubles in paradise is the last thing you want."

"Wait, what?"

Oliver let out a deep exhale and finally forced himself to meet Barry's eyes. "You should go inside before they get too worried. Tell them I'm sorry, but I had to leave early."

"Leave? What are you talking about?" Barry said and grabbed Oliver's hand before the man could get too far.

Oliver glanced at their joined hands and lifted his free hand to gently separate them. "You got what you wanted. They're not gonna doubt anything now. But I'm done." He briefly looked at the ground, clenching his teeth, before looking at Barry again. "This would be so much easier if it just stayed in that stupid coffee shop." And without any more words, the billionaire walked away, not stopping or looking back and making Barry hate himself for failing to prevent this from happening. He watched Oliver leave again and although it didn't make any sense to him at first, after a few more seconds of silence, he realized he was the only one to blame for this. Because Oliver thought Barry had seen Cisco coming and kissed him only to make sure everyone believed they were together and honestly, could he really blame him for it? When he was too chickenshit to say anything to prove him wrong?

He did go back inside after that, but feeling more hollow than ever before, he wasn't a joy to be around anymore and eventually ended up leaving early too, thinking of everything he felt during that make-out session and coming to the most dreadful realization there was. He was in love with Oliver Queen and he just let that man walk away.

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Oliver knew both Felicity and William were trying to make him talk about it, but it was pointless. He was already getting over it, he just needed more time. It wasn't like Barry had ever tried to fool him into thinking it was more than just pretense on his part. Oliver had only himself to blame for suspecting this and now he had to pay the price. It was fine, though. He knew how to handle rejection or... heartbreak even. It wasn't anything new to him despite everyone assuming otherwise considering who he was.

Several days passed since the wedding. Oliver hadn't gone to Jitters at all as the coward he was, knowing all too well the building alone would remind him of Barry enough to make the pain raw again and ruin his whole facade and that wouldn’t help him with getting over this, which was why he turned away the offer of the owner of Jitters himself after he got a phone call from him that night, finding out he had supposedly won some price even though he was one hundred percent certain he hadn't taken part in any competition in the first place.

The man eventually admitted he just made that up to make him come because he had a daughter who, again supposedly, was a huge admirer of Oliver Queen and would die for a photo with him. Feeling too tempted to tell the man to shove it and go to hell, it took Oliver several seconds of silence to overcome the overload of emotions inside and say he'd be right there, already regretting ever going with it the second he hung up, but there was no coming back from it. Besides, there was a chance the man was being honest and in that case, his visit to Jitters would be a good thing, but for some reason, he couldn't help but doubt the man's words. It didn't stop him from leaving his apartment in the end, though.

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It was way past the closing hours, but the coffee shop was still all lit up, leaving an odd impression with how empty it was. There were no... there was no Barry and that was the whole problem. And it hurt just like Oliver suspected it would. But he told himself to shove it and finally pushed the entrance door and stepped inside.

"Hello? Anyone here?" he asked, getting no answer, which was weird because he was expected after all, so what was happening? Was this some kind of prank or a crazy way to rob him?

"You're here," he suddenly heard and witnessed his heart skipping a beat as Barry appeared behind the cash register. He spun around, marching to leave on instinct because this was just too much to take for him, but froze on spot when Barry shouted: "No, wait! Please stay. I just want to talk."

They couldn't talk. They'd lost that ability after the kiss and just being in the same room felt too suffocating, but somehow despite that, the idea of him walking away after hearing Barry beg him to stay without holding anything back seemed... wrong to him. So he stayed and turned around to face the other man, folding his arms and looking anywhere else. "Then talk."

Barry slowly made his way to him, stopping soon enough to leave several feet separating them. "Remember how we were making fun of the owner for coming with the whole menu for couples in the first place? It turned out he's actually a really nice guy. Maybe a bit too trusting since I convinced him to lend me the keys for tonight so quickly, though."

"Where are you going with this, Barry?"

"Just wanted to tell you how much this place means to me. It's not about good coffee or cakes or the whole vibe I get from it, although I love all those things too, don't get me wrong. But there's more to it."

Everything was screaming at Oliver to put an end to whatever this whole thing was and leave this part of his life finally behind, but then there was this small voice nagging at him to stay and listen. Barry was his friend first after all. He owed him to be there and listen when it was required.

"Every time I hang out with friends, we end up going here and we look forward to it. We don’t find it weird at all," Barry went on and took one step forward. "I met you here." Another step. "Out of all the places, this was the one where I felt like I could relax no matter what." And another. "After the whole thing with Iris and Eddie, I thought I would never be the same again. That I was broken and there was no way to fix it. And it took time, but eventually, I healed and let go. Partly thanks to this place too." He took the last step, locking their eyes and smiling before he uttered his next words."And I've fallen in love under this very roof and I was more late than I've ever been to realize it. But I know now and I'm sorry I couldn't say something sooner."

Oliver wanted to believe it. It pained him how much he wanted to believe it, but what if Barry was just taking pity on him? What if he was meant to have his heart broken countlessly worse than he already had?

"You once said," Barry broke his train of thought, knowing him perfectly enough to suspect what was going on in his mind, "that I was a terrible liar and you were right. Then you told me that you couldn't understand why I found it so easy to lie to my friends and family. And, Ollie, you were right about that too because it's one of the hardest things anyone could ask of me. The reason why I made it look so easy is that I wasn't lying in the first place. I wasn't pretending anymore. The truth is I've probably stopped a long time ago and I'm pretty sure so have you."

"But what if it's not real? What if we're just fooling ourselves like we've been fooling others?"

Barry slowly placed both his hands on Oliver's cheeks. "I think it's been real the whole time. We were doomed right from the start. We just didn't know about it. I'm a terrible liar and you could've told me to go to hell the second you got that cake for William the day we met, but you didn't. You just went along with it like I did. All I'm asking is for you to go with it now too if it's what you want. Because it is what I want and I'm sick of getting everything in the way of me saying it."

Oliver smiled before he could stop it and he knew right there on the spot that there was no reason to question what this was between them anymore. He knew what he was feeling, what he had been feeling for a long time now, and he wasn't going to fight it when Barry was right there, promising happiness Oliver was certain he would deliver when he had been doing it the whole time they'd known each other. It was time to stop refusing it. It was time to embrace it instead. And so he did just that when he wrapped his arms around Barry's waist and sealed the deal with a kiss, letting it serve as his yes to the other man's question. Now and every time anyone would ask him again. Because it felt real. Getting another taste of Barry's lips, he couldn't be more certain he was right where he belonged and it no longer mattered to him it had taken him so long to realize it and accept it. He was now convinced he wouldn't let Barry go for anything and that was what was mattered.

"I take that's a yes, then?" Barry asked once their lips parted and they could catch their breaths again.

"What, you didn't find that convincing enough?"

"I'm not sure," Barry replied and smirked. "You're much better at lying than me after all. You might as well keep trying harder to make me fully convinced."

"You're lucky I have no problem with that," Oliver finished and connected their lips yet again, already sure he would never get tired of this sensation because it was tangible. It was real and most importantly it was theirs.

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It was a regular day the next time they decided to meet in Jitters again. Barry still couldn't get over the fact this was officially his life. He'd never been this happy and sometimes there were still days he thought life would decide to take that away from him in the most horrible way possible, but Oliver never left again and that had to count for something, right?

They were waiting in the line as they had been numerous times before and yet something felt different this time. Their eyes were locked, hands always busy with finding countless ways how to stay in direct contact. They were in their own world, immersed and happy beyond belief it was something only the two of them shared. No one could take that away from them because they would be foolish to ever let it go.

"Welcome to Jitters," a barista they didn't recognize brought them back to reality. "What can I get you?"

Barry ordered for both of them and then finished with "By the way, we're together, so we'll go with the couple’s menu if that's okay" and feeling utterly joyful that this was official and as true as it could be.

The cashier, however, apologized instead and said they were no longer serving the couple’s menus because it was stupid to begin with according to their owner and someone had complained the policy implied one kind of love meant more than any other. Barry didn’t appreciate the irony of this at all, but he tried to wave it off even though part of him felt sad that he would never get to drink from the horrendous looking cups again especially now that he was so blessed with love and aware of it. Oliver must have read it somehow from his face as the know-it-all he was because once the barista wrote their names on the regular cups the billionaire asked: "Can I borrow your pen for a second?"

"Yeah, sure," the barista replied and handed him the object in question.

Oliver thanked him and reached for one cup, either writing or drawing something on it and then doing the same thing on the other cup. Barry couldn't tell what it was, though, because Oliver made sure it was indecipherable from the movements of his hand as the smartass he was, handing the cups back to the barista so Barry couldn't see why he needed the pen for as long as possible. Even once their coffees were ready, Oliver took them both and left Barry to pay for it which had been the plan anyway so Barry decided to let it slide and followed his boyfriend, relishing was he could call him that now, to their table. Only then Oliver handed him his steaming coffee with a smile. "I'm gonna miss the cakes."

"We can buy a cake next time we're here and share it like we used to. We don't need some special menu to be able to do that."

Oliver softly chuckled with so much affection Barry had to mirror it. "I guess you're right."

Barry finally turned the cup around in his hands so he could see Oliver's creation and stopped breathing for several seconds in shock and so much love he swore it had to be illegal because there was no way people could feel this good and get away with it. In the end, he decided to be immersed in it instead because that was what it was supposed to be about anyway.

He didn't throw away his cup that day. He took it home with him and for the rest of his life, he would wake up with it in his eyesight, reminding him that dreams could come true after all. He had never imagined a used coffee cup, although he did try to clean it as much as possible without damaging it, with his name in the center of a huge heart struck with an arrow to be the sign of something like that, but then again, he hadn't anticipated having someone like Oliver in his life either and here he was. And here he would always be. No matter what.

[owletarc]

i can understand why ruby is lying to ironwood here (and make no mistake, she is lying and actively hiding things from him) because she’s finally beginning to learn. to survive in this world, sometimes you have to lie and keep secrets and it sucks but that’s just how it be. sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do because there is no other way and it’s for the greater good. they advocated for the same thing that ozpin had done for years when it came to james telling the world the truth because they knew of the threat with the grimm and the untold amounts of harm it could cause. they echoed ozpin’s words and that was intentional on the writers part.

rwby are playing the part of ozpin this season and they’re going to see how wrong they were last season; i think it’s probably going to hit yang and ruby the hardest. yang because she was so insistent on the truth post her talk with raven, yet she kept the “lie” (omission is still lying by deception) about not knowing who the spring maiden was. ruby because this is her first real foray into the politics and shades of grey in the real world. these aren’t her fairytales anymore, she has to grow up.

however, them lying about why ozpin is gone is entirely abhorrent. rwby+co abused ozpin into silence, and none of their secrets are going to stay secret for very long. either oscar is going to spill and tell james or ozpin’s going to show up when he’s finally pushed too far by james going through with this insane plan.

either way, rwby are going learn it’s not easy being the moral guardians they wanted oz to be, and people exist in shades of grey. sometimes you have to do bad things for good outcomes.

[themadauthorshatter]

WHAT TIME IS IT!?

NOT angst time, if anything we're an hour past that now.

IT'S FLUFF TIIIIIIIIIIME!!!!!!

This does feature a younger, slightly new born Virgil being introduced to the "dark sides," so prepare yourself! Roman and Remus are already separated, King Creativity and Orange are their own characters, don't worry one of them will have a name😉

No one expected it, expected a small, dimly colored baby to appear in their own homage of the main room Thomas and the core sides met in, clad in a small onsie and barely having hair on his little head.

The three grown sides and the royal with them approached him carefully, the infant staring at them as he nibbled on his fingers.

Janus tilted his head to the side and the child copied the action. He stuck out his tongue and the child giggled.

"You're a really little one, aren't you?" The yellow side asked as he picked up the new side. "I wonder what you represent?"

"Janus," Remus cringed, "no. No. Don't play the dad in this. That's Patton's job."

"He has a point, regardless," the orange side admitted. He stood at Janus's side as he ran a hand through the child's hair, letting the boy hold his finger. He smiled as the baby teethed on him.

"Eat him, kid," urged Remus. "Bite his finger off."

"Majesty, are sides usually born like this?"

"They are, but..." The tallest side noted the shade of the onesie and the light grey half moons under his eyes. He quickly pulled a handkerchief out from his pocket and dampened it on his tongue before wiping gently at the half moons, his curiosity increasing as they stayed where they were. "Not this dark of a side so young. The last time a side like this was born was logic."

"Maybe he represents problem solving," Janus shrugged as he turned to the now wide eyed, curious side. "Is that what side you are?" He asked sweetly. "Are you problem solving?"

The baby put a hand to the snake half of Janus's face, intrigued by the cool, smooth scales the opposed warm skin.

"Aren't you a curious little one?"

Remus groaned as he flopped onto the couch, giving the king a "gag me" gesture.

"He can't be curiosity," the orange side stated as softly as he could, gesturing to the dark clothes and half moons. "Maybe he's...fear?"

"Only one way to find out," Remus beamed as he shot to his feet.

Janus held the child close to his chest as the green side pranced forward.

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing." Remus's blatant smile and wild eyes made Janus back away slightly. "You really don't believe me, bananaconda?"

"If all due respect, I do," Janus hissed.

Remus flared his nostrils as he glared back at him. "Don't use that shit on me, Deceit."

"Gentlemen, language infront of an infant," the royal chided. His eyes wandered to the now nervous baby, taking the orange side's words into consideration. "Put him down for a second."

"But-" Janus choked as Remus cheered, "Yes!"

"Antonius, he's just a baby. You can't let him-"

"It's just to see what he represents."

"But-"

Antonius glared at him, silencing him immediately.

Janus bit his lip and put the baby on the couch, the infant whimpering as he back away.

"He'll stop Remus before he does anything extreme," the orange side murmured.

Janus's eyes locked on Antonius, who watched Remus. The two were similarly dressed, but the king's outfit was far more extravagant, the shoulder pads having golden tassels draping just off the edges, the small ropes the size of Janus's middle finger. His suit was trim and hugged his body perfectly, every curve and angle, much unlike the Duke's outfit, which left room for comfort more than form. His Majesty was adept with maintaining his powerful appearance and power in general, especially amoung the sides he was surrounded by, keeping them on leashes as if they were dogs, even though he let them run free quite often.

Janus bit his lip. Don't let Remus hurt him, he willed.

Remus crouched infront of the baby, who instantly wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue.

"Too much deodorant, Dukey."

Remus scowled at the orange side's words, the baby giggling, "Dukey!"

Janus snickered to himself.

Antonius hid a smirk behind his hand. "His first word."

Remus's scowl melted into a smile as he began laughing. The baby giggled with him, only stopping when he cackled loudly.

The half moons darkened beneath his eyes.

Both Janus and Antonius practically stood on their toes as Remus backed away.

The child whimpered and whined, holding out his arms for the green side to return.

Remus shrieked aloud, making the three grown sides jump slightly.

The baby stared with furrowed brows and a quivering lip.

Janus, Antonius, and the orange side meet his eyes, Remus shrugged at them.

"I tried-"

A horrific wail filled the space, all four dropping slightly as they held their ears and gritted their teeth. Unlike Remus's, which was high pitched and only surprising, the baby's crying sounding like a wild animal had been injured and was in need of help.

Antonius scooped the child into his arms, holding him to his chest as he shushed and rocked him. The child quieted and buried his face into the king's shirt. Anxiety, he marveled in his head. "You're alright, little one," he assured quietly. "Everything is okay. We will not do that to you again." He turned to Remus, who stumbled to his feet. "Right?"

Remus opened his mouth to protest only for the king to raise an eyebrow and jerk his head to the sniffling infant in his arms. He rolled his eyes nodded, a small grin on his face.

"Right," the green side amended as he bent down to meet the child's admittedly frightened eyes. "And I'm so sorry for scaring you," he exaggerated. "Can you find it in your heart to forgive me my wrongdoings?"

The baby carefully reached his hand out and felt the Duke's mustache under his small fingers.

Remus gave a smal laugh as he stared at Antonius. "Forgiv-" The green side yelled as the baby yanked his mustache, the three males laughing slightly as Remus pulled free and hid behing Janus.

"The brat's evil. Don't trust him."

"Oh, hush, Remus, I'm sure little Anxiety still accepts your apology," Antonius mused.

Remus fumed. "Well, he can take that 'apology accepted' and-"

"Wait," Janus backpedaled. "Did you saw 'Anxiety?'"

Antonius nodded. "Something tells me our host is more... protective of himself than most others."

Remus oohed childishly as he eyed Janus. "Hear that, Janus? You're being replaced."

"Or he's getting a partner," the orange side hummed as he rubbed the child's cheek. "You would be surprised at how useful it can be to fly instead fight."

"And I serve to keep Thomas safe mentally. Dukey," Janus added.

The baby Anxiety chuckled slightly.

Remus sighed as he ruffled the boy's hair. "I'll keep it in mind, Snake."

Antonius sat down and held the baby in his hands, letting him stand on his lap.

"Think Patton will approve of this? Us looking after him?" The orange side asked cautiously. "If he finds out a core side was born here and that he's in our care..."

The thought made the colored sides queasy.

Antonius flicked his wrist, producing a plush spider out of thin air and handing it to Anxiety. "He already has his hands full with Remus's fairytale brother and a never ending machine such as Logic, not to mention keeping Thomas in line, however thin that may be." He folded one leg over the other and let Anxiety sit down, waving one of the outer spider legs at him as he held its head and front legs. "Consider this a favor on his part that he won't have to pay back."

"Sounds like you have a plan brewing," Remus reveled as he shook and hugged himself.

Antonius brushed some hair off of Anxiety's forehead. "Roman and Patton have a black and white perception of the world, and of us. Can you imagine what they would say if he'd appeared with them, let alone done?"

Remus bit his lip and Janus clenched a fist.

"We're the bag guys, that's what Roman says."

"Ah, but he forgets without us, who would Thomas be?" Antonius asked th Remus as he pointed a finger. He turned his attention back to Anxiety who squirmed off his knee and crawled on the couch, the spider trailing beside him as he held its leg. Janus smirked as he lowered to the ground and reappeared two cushions infront of the child, Anxiety perplexed by the sight. The royal chuckled at the two before turning back to the sides.

"When people are anxious about something, their judgement shifts like a broken pendulum, trying to decide what is right and what is wrong in a heartbeat. Exposed to anxiety, morality tends to become more of a guideline than a code. Creativity is a wonderful thing, but introduce a hint of fear of rejection, of losing everything you've worked so hard to have, and it all comes to a halt. Logically, when one gets anxious, they would think "calm down," even when all they can do is wallow in whatever caused them to be anxious in the first place." The king leaned back, seeing Anxiety and Janus had been listening.

"If Patton or Logan saw Anxiety, neither one would take him in."

"Doesn't Logan know there's this thing called a "grey area" where people do bad things for a good purpose?" The orange side pointed out.

"He does," Antonius agreed, "but the others don't and try to keep Thomas on a path that is inevitably going to destroy him."

Janus perked up as he helped Anxiety stand like Antonius had done before. "And that is our job. To keep Thomas safe and make sure he's taking care of his mind and body equally," he explained to Anxiety in a sweet tone. "The other sides want him to be a good person, but he has to take care of himself, too."

Anxiety swung his arms at his sides, smiling widely.

"That's right, little Anxiety. We're just as important as they are, and they need to know that."

Antonius's smile grew.

"Can we keep him?"

The three males averted their eyes to Remus, whose smile dropped when he met their gaze.

"What?" He asked innocently. "Evil kid's grown on me."

Antonius tsked as he shook his head and stood, Anxiety holding his arms out so he could be picked up, which he did. "Where do you see evil in taking time to collect yourself in the aftermath of a long day?" Antonius asked as he gestured to Janus, who fixed his posture to sit straight. "Where do you see evil in allowing yourself to know whether you had done something to wrong another and need to tell others you regret your actions towards them?" The orange side brightened as he nodded. "Where do you see evil in being vigilant of your surroundings?" Despite asking Remus, Antonius held Anxiety in his arms, but far enough to be staring directly into his eyes. "To take care of yourself is to be aware of what can hurt you and what can help you. I see no evil that."

"The others do," Remus said bitterly.

Antonius nodded. "Unfortunately." He smiled at Anxiety. "However, opinions change when people see the full picture rather than just one corner."

The three grew lively, agreeing and smiling as the king's eyes moved from one to the next, then back to Anxiety.

"Let this be your first lesson, little Anxiety. Self preservation, integrity, even intrusive thoughts, none of us are evil; we only wish to reach the same finish line as the core sides, even though our start was a little sloppy."

The more he said the side's trait, the more it left a bitter taste in his mouth, almost like saying Deceit when Janus helped a situation rather than make it worse.

Thomas's vigilance and awareness, he mused inwardly as Anxiety fidgeted and teethed on the ring on Antonius's thumb. Virgilius is too big of a name for a child like you. Even as you grow, it still may not fit you.

"Virgil."

The role the child would have to play was too big for him now, but at least his name would fit just right.

Antonius held his forehead against Virgil's, letting the child's hands touch his face.

"The others don't like that word, evil. They tend to pity and hate themselves and then lash out at each other. Alas, the core sides are blissfully ignorant of the damage they cause." He sat down once more, holding an intrigued Virgil on his lap, the infant mesmerized by the words his elder spoke, despite barely understanding them. "Always remember that, Virgil, my boy.

"None of us are evil, and neither are you. We're all just as important as they are."

Virgil's eyes fluttered as he yawned and Antonius adjusted his hold to where the child's back was against his forearm and his head was against his upper arm and chest.

"Sweet dreams, Virgil," Antonius cooed softly. "And welcome to our family."

The warm and fuzzies!

They feel...

Really weird after writing so much angst.

I like it😊

[ifeveristoday]

 [video description: just me yelling for seven minutes straight]

Ok. Am I ready for this?

Every issue of the Boom! Verse has been building up layers of characterizations and the aftermaths of choices. Issue 9 shows us the fallout of two major events - the showdown at Sunnydale Museum, and Xander’s half Vampire state (and what Willow had to do to get him there).

It also touches on the fact that Buffy is in the Hellmouth with no way to contact the surface world.

Yet that isn’t the most pressing matter in this issue.

Relationships are frayed.

Everyone in the Scooby Gang is isolated.

Jenny has a cat.

Sorry, that’s not thematically relevant but I, as a cat person, am legally bound to discuss when there is a cat in media.

JENNY HAS A GREY TABBY WHAT IS THEIR NAME

Spoilers and reactions to issue nine under the cut - we scream and flail like men, who needs a review?

PTSD CLUB PTSD CLUB PTSD CLUB

edited to correct that bit about Willow’s hair and level of evil it indicates

Something that Jordie used early on is the narrator POV (unreliable perhaps) and it returns to this issue. But instead of Xander or Willow, it’s Joyce. And she’s grieving about the world she’s lost but what every parent knows in the back of their mind: the world is tough and scary and so many bad things can happen. And Joyce has survived the attack but there’s no Buffy to commiserate with, to fuss over in person. (Also, what a nod to Joyce’s obliviousness in TV canon - to believe that Buffy would just go on a mandatory field trip with no phone connection.) Luckily, she has Eric, who is supportive and says all the right things. 

Joyce’s disconnect with what she feels and the outside world’s determination to ‘life goes on’ is repeated in the rest of the issue, as our favorite Sunnydale residents deal with both small and large terrors.

Revelations besides Jenny’s cat:

Cordelia works in a clothing shop and there are some Portland looking dudes roaming around Sunnydale. Or maybe it’s Silver Lake. She still has a crush on Spike, because who hasn’t met a mysterious, well-muscled stranger emerging from the forest like a person-shaped Cheshire cat and thought, “Gotta get me some of that?”

I mean, a whole fairytale industry has grown up around that idea.

But despite all normal appearances (and Cordelia is the still most ‘normal’ character) and her Cordy Crew updates, life is not going to her plans. There are fissures erupting in the sidewalk, cracks appearing in walls, people are stressed and Cordelia can’t even play with her dog without falling over said fissures. Oh, and her books are dissolving into ash when she opens her locker.

So shit is horrible.

Willow’s dyed a black streak in her hair (honey, red hair is the hardest color to re-dye to. Your hair is so beautiful and now you’ve got to tone and strip the fuck out of that streak if you want a base to dye it red again - oh wait, magic, I guess) and is being rude and abrupt and just plain Not Willow with Rose and everyone.

Except Willow chafes at the idea of there being a standard for her - why should she be just the smart capable responsible one? While a vampire doppelganger doesn’t burst out of the wall and drawls that she’s bored now, Willow is resentful that Rose and everyone else expects her to be one way when hello, the world is on fire outside.

Rose has found out about the weird shit that goes on in Sunnydale and accuses Willow of keeping things from her, including giant bats and the fact that Buffy was there, and she, Willow’s girlfriend and considerably known her longer than Buffy (imp.)  wasn’t there or told about it.

Willow naturally thinks that Rose being jealous of Buffy is just stupid, because Buffy isn’t even there and honestly she’s not even thinking about it. Which causes Rose to worry why is her empathetic Willow like this?

Which makes Willow lash out that she’s tired of having to be the one who has to consider everyone else’s feelings but her own? Why can’t she have the space to figure out what she wants?

And like that, Rose and Willow are on a break.

Xander, in direct contrast to everyone else around him, is calm and sensitive and just generally being a good bean. He’s concerned about Willow and Buffy, but he’s not crowding Willow. He’s patrolling in Buffy’s absence and making stakes and friends with raccoons - and all of his warm-heartedness and acceptance of ‘everyone’s journey is different’ upsets Giles, who is stubbly and running on presumably zero sleep as he worries about Buffy, and the break in his relationship.

Xander’s facade of handling all the weird crap Sunnydale’s thrown at him gets blown when he encounters a vampire delivery boy in the cemetery. He wins the fight, but the vampire’s words taunting him that they’re just monsters, and not in-between--unfinished like Xander is, resonates with him. Xander’s been doing so well, learning how to live and cope with his depression, being a good friend and responsible evil thwarter - and then to have Giles dismiss him so coldly? And to have one of his worst fears spoken out loud - he’s not human anymore. Not in the way that it used to count. And he’s only half a vampire - and there’s no one else straddling that line so he’s still alone. 

Everyone needs a hug.

Especially Giles and Jenny, because shit, things get incredibly real in the next act. Giles heads over to Jenny’s house to make some kind of amends, but Jenny is understandably Not Having It. Giles disregards all of her reasonable requests, pushes past her and enters her home and then tries to make her understand how really, she’s wrong and he’s right and MAYBE IF SHE HADN’T GIVEN THE DAGGER TO DRUSILLA, THE WORLD WOULDN’T BE ON FIRE.

This is a mess. In so many ways Giles is wrong - he ignored her request to stay away, he invited himself in - and then spent too long trying to make excuses for why it was OK for him to do all of that shit. And he looks a hot mess while doing so - I don’t even think it’s the artwork style, it’s just that Giles is wild-eyed, wrecked, and actually slavering at the mouth as he tries to explain his point of view. He’s feverish and Jenny puts aside her anger for a minute to get him a glass of water. Like, yes, she’s furious with him, but she still loves him, even though this scary man practically foaming at the mouth doesn’t really look like her partner.

Jenny presses him on his attempt to protect them all, asking pointedly, what about her?

Giles automatically assumes she’s talking about Buffy and assures her that he knows Buffy’s capable of fending for herself, which is exactly the Wrong Thing to Say, because as previous issues have shown, Jenny is not cool with children having to save the world, and also, Buffy’s mom? How about her, Fuckhead Watcher Man.

And Giles goes and puts his whole head up his ass as he says that there are sacrifices that come with successes, as in any war - and Jenny loses it. Because Giles rants do you think that it’s easy for him to live to believe that everything in his life is disposable except for Buffy? That nothing else matters?

And Jenny reads the underlining footnote - if nothing matters, where does that leave her in his life?

FOR FUCK’S SAKE GILES YOU’RE DERANGED GO HOME

And Jenny’s cat agrees with me and hisses at him to leave Jenny alone.

Giles exits the house wondering aloud has everyone gone mad, while a suspicious rabbit looks on from the grass.

There’s a Tucker Wells/Andrew shades of who the fuck cares interlude about a lonely kid who stalks his school facebook to read the comments about classmates and I might be callous, but I actually do not care about those type of characters because guess what, lots of lonely kids and people out there and their first thought is not to kill everyone else. Anyway, I suspect this is a side effect of the Hellmouth magnifying negative thoughts.

It lingers on Buffy’s face and the comments - “She’s weird but hot.”

Now imagine that being her epitaph. 

This pans over to the last sequence - Robin is chilling at home, and his dad (!!!) tells him to go to bed, he doesn’t care how much this town is falling apart. Robin’s dad believes in education.

And guess who shows up at his door in the late of night?

KENDRA.

And she hits him with a Star Wars reference. “Aren’t you a little short for a watcher?”