#i told her to look for matching phrases and to not limit herself to the 'right' part of her notes to find the info and

[wall-eye]

My sister, at 9pm: mom I have this thing due tomorrow and I can't get it done can you help me

Mom: when did you get this? Last friday? You should have been working on this way earlier I mean come on

Sister: you don't understand

Me, getting up from my bed despite having to wake up ridiculously early tomorrow: mom get out of here, you don't understand. What's this? What's the problem?

[p0orbaby]

Too Hot To Handle

summary: Alexia doesn’t want the past to repeat itself

warnings: a smidge of heatstroke, and a collapse, how fun

a/n: thanks for the request !

word count: 828

-

Record temperatures they said.

You can believe it.

The aircon was dearly missed as soon as you stepped off the bus.

“Aquí”. You turn to find a bottle of water being eagerly pushed into your empty hands. “Necesitas mantenerte hidratado”

“I’ve just finished one” you tell her, ready to put the bottle in your backpack for safe keeping. But the look she gives you tells you there’s no room for arguments. You roll your eyes at her stubbornness, “thanks, Ale”

“De nada”

Girlfriend, captain, synonyms of each other, really. Her protectiveness spans over both mantles. That’s Alexia for you, in control of every situation, regardless of whether football is involved or not.

You take the bottle from her with the intention of sipping on it as you get changed for warm-ups, but she grabs your wrist and stops you from following your teammates into the stadium.

“Ahora, cariño”

“Alexia,” you start, very aware of the horde of fans calling for the two of you. “I’ll be pissing like a horse if I have any more right now”

She looks at you with a furrowed brow and a tilt of her head. Her English has improved immensely since you’ve been together, but even now some phrases catch her out.

“Necesito el baño” you clarify.

She relents, partly because the sun is beating down on her, partly because she doesn’t want to make a scene in front of the sea of traveling blaugrana.

Their dedication is rewarded with a wave and a smile from her, and a shrug of the shoulders from you as you're whisked away towards the changing rooms.

-

The game started as usual, but the scorching sun quickly turned every movement into a struggle. The hydration breaks were a welcome respite, yet even those seemed insufficient as the match wore on. You pushed yourself, focusing on the ball, the strategies, and your teammates, but the heat was unrelenting.

With every sprint, your legs grew heavier, and your head pounded in rhythm with your racing heart. You caught glimpses of Alexia, her worry evident despite her composed exterior. She was always perceptive, always attuned to you, and now was no different.

You ignored the warning signs, convincing yourself you could handle it, that you had to push through for the team. But as the game entered its final stretch, your vision began to tunnel, and a wave of dizziness washed over you.

Just a few more minutes, you thought, trying to steady yourself. But your body had other plans.

The ground felt like it was moving beneath you, your legs buckling under the strain. You stumbled, hearing a distant shout, but before you could process what was happening, everything went dark.

-

She still blames herself, even after all this time.

You weren’t together then, not quite. The lines between teammates and more were starting to blur as your relationship blossomed in the shadows.

You know she feels guilty for not keeping a closer eye on you during that match, afraid that her concern would draw too much attention to the two of you. She didn’t want people to find out about your relationship before you were ready to go public. The secrecy made her hesitant, and she worries that her hesitation contributed to your collapse.

You’ve told her countless times that it wasn’t her fault, that she couldn’t have known. But Alexia, ever the leader and protector, took it to heart. Since then, she’s been extra vigilant, constantly checking in, making sure you’re taking care of yourself.

Today’s heat brings those memories back, and you can see the worry etched on her face despite her attempts to stay focused on the game.

You push yourself to play smart, to stay aware of your limits, knowing that’s the best way to ease her mind. As the match progresses, you find yourself glancing at her frequently, sharing small smiles and nods of reassurance. Each time your eyes meet, there’s a silent understanding between you, a promise that you’ll both be careful.

When the final whistle blows, signaling a hard-fought victory, you make your way over to Alexia. She’s already looking your way, concern and relief in her eyes. But before you can even say a word, she’s ushering you towards the shade near the bench, her hand firm on your back.

“Drink,” she says, shoving another bottle of water into your hand.

She must mean business if she's dusting off language number three.

“Ale, I’m fine,” you start, but she cuts you off with a determined look cutting through her sweaty features.

“Drink,” she repeats. Deadly serious.

You sigh but comply, taking a few sips to placate her. “¿Lo veis? I’m drinking”

She nods, but her eyes scan you from head to toe, making sure you’re really okay. “Bien. Continúa”

You know there’s no point in arguing, so you take another sip. “Happy?”

“Por ahora,” she mutters, still watching you closely. She doesn’t relax until you’ve downed half the bottle.

[ysbrydthespoop]

Gorillaz with Tattoos Headcanons/Concepts.

A while after Noodle went missing. She had S.M.R tattooed on her wrist. It stands for Stuart Murdoc Russel and she specifically chose an area where she could see it every day. She did it herself with a needle and inc and looking at it helped her get through really bad times.

After the events of plastic beach, she hid that tattoo with a bandage for several years. Between 2D getting swallowed by the whale and Russel getting harpooned, she thought they were both dead, and that tattoo just became too painful to look at. She thought about getting it removed all together but she's glad she never did.

Murdoc is by far the most likely to get a regrettable tattoo. There's been so many times he's woken up after a wild drink and drug fuled bednder with something horrendous on his body and no memory of how it got there. 2D has had quite a few smacks to the head over the years for laughing at those tattoos.

The runner up for most regrettable tattoos is 2D. He doesn't really think his tatoos through. Proof of this is the zombie portait where Paula's name used to be.

After a particularly wild night out. Murdoc and 2D woke up with a very limited memory of the night before and eachothers names tattoo on their arms. Neither of them told the other their tattoos existed and they wouldn't find out until months later when they slipped up and forgot to cover it. They act like it never happened but they still never removed or covered them.

Murdoc made Noodle swear she would never get tattoos and this was one of the few things he and russel ever agreed on. When they saw the one on her wrist, they were not happy, even though she was in her early twenties at this point they don't have to know she did it when she was sixteen. But they did soften when they realised who those enitials belonged to. When they realised it was for them, Russel said, "I suppose that one's not so bad. But no more." Murdoc simply said he'd "allow it." But also told her "But this is the first and last one." As if he still had any say in the matter.

Neither were happy with 2D when he started encouraging her to get many, many more.

Noodle would have to be with a partner for at least ten years before she even considerd getting a matching tattoo with them. But 2D on the other hand, that's her big brother and one of her best friends. That's different. There is no force in any conceivable reality or universe that could break their bond. Now that they're both adults, getting a matching tattoos is just another bonding activity for them. They do it just for fun and they've spent countless hours together designing tatoos for eachother. They even have anniversary tattoos to commemorate how long they've been doing this. They started when she was twenty three and soon, they'll be coming up to ten years.

Noodle isn't really keen on the idea of commiting massive tattoos and prefers to have a load of little ones. This has prompted 2D to give her the nickname, doodlebug.

She has several that symbolise her band mates. She has a melodica, a microphone and a zombie for 2D a trumpet, a drumset and a Japanese to English dictionary for Russel and a diamond, a devil mask and a raven for Murdoc.

By getting a diamond, she and Murdoc now have a pair of matching tattoos without even knowing it. They both have a diamond because that's what Murdoc has always called her. The phrases "Isn't she a diamond?" and "She's a diamond, our Noodle." repeat over in Noodle's memories. In countless interviews and introductions, dating all the way back to when she was ten years old.

Russel has the names of every friend he lost when he was young tattooed on his arm.

The boys all have at least one tattoo commemorating Noodle. Murdoc has his diamond, 2D has her name in Japanese and and Russel has a portrait of her on his shoulder.

After they got tatoos for Noodle, 2D and Murdoc also decided to get some tattoos done to honor Russel as well. They didn't innted on getting tattoos for eachother but they did and with the ones they got for Noodle as well, it didn't seem right leaving out Russel. Things didn't seem complete. 2D has his name and a couple of symbols representing him, including one he did some reserch to find that sybolised protection, because Russel has always had his back. Murdoc has one quote, "For the bastard who keeps breaking my nose and stopping me from doing things I'll regret."

When Noodle was a kid, there were times when none of the boys were in good headspaces, and she worried about all of them. So quite a few times, she made them pinky promise they'd be okay. Now, all three of them have Noodle's name tattooed on the very finger they wrapped around hers when they made their promises. 2D got his first. Like Noodle's tattoo, his was also a DIY done with a needle and ink. It was done when he was imprisoned in his underwater room on Plastic Beach. Those were the worst of times for him and having that tatoo was his way of reminding himself to always keep his promise. But he had not been as careful as Noodle had been and got an infection almost immediately. Which he then tried to hide from Murdoc, worried he'd be mad at him. When Murdoc saw it, he scolded 2D for being an idiot but later in a copycat/why didn't I think of that?/ reckless drunk moment, he did the exact same thing and also gave himself an infection.

Russel wouldn't get his until a few years later when he'd see these tatoos for himself. He got his partialy because he also had a "why didn't I think of that?" moment but also because he felt like the odd one one out being the only one without that tattoo. He also felt it was fitting for them all to have it. There are two things in this world that bring the three of them together. Music and Noodle. But Noodle was the one who kept them all going. Built them up to who they are today. And if they agree on nothing else, they'll always agree that they all love her. His tattoo, though, is professionally done. He wasn't having any of that stick and poke, risk an infection crap.

[walshnikki]

kingoftheheels​:

The trip was certainly an success. Better than he had ever expected it to be. It was risky. Risker than he ever anticipated, yet, here they were.

Nikki was a willing partner-in-crime and he wasn’t going to deny it. She had the skills to push him harder. Whereas his wife…wasn’t so thrilled. She wasn’t happy with any of his choices for that matter.

Their marriage was falling apart because of the league, his own struggles and a new found crush. “Our story,” he said, climbing off the stage. His body drenched in sweat. Muscles rippling from the one-on-one match.

He always found himself watching Nikki. On and off the stage. Taking note of how she handled things. She had helped him redefine the show. Hell, they had even spent multiple nights in the office, just planning. Though it had opened up the door for rumors about what was happening between them.

It likely didn’t help that they shared a motel room on the trip. Even though they both had two different beds. 

He moved into Nikki’s space, without a second thought. Truth be told, he did it, without thinking. He was getting comfortable around her. Happily so.

“I still want you in the ring,” he said smirking slightly. “Even if it’s just you in a bikini and me. All alone.” Mentally, he should have stopped himself. It was foolish to flirt with her. “I could show you some moves.”

Nikki offered the brothers a slightly sympathetic smile as they walked over to the edge of the visible set. As they jumped off the stage, her eyes flicked instinctively to Jack and the play of firm muscle beneath perfectly tanned flesh. Self-reproach and guilt had her dropping her gaze to the painted concrete floor before Jack could pick upon her objectification (even though it had been an innocent glance.) She’d be an utter fool to risk the life she was building by letting her hopeless crush derail that.

…it would go a long way towards mitigating her inappropriate wants if only Jack’s sweat-glistened form didn’t make her pulse quicken and her mouth go dry. Deciding that her only path forward was to limit her exposure to the temptation, Nikki busied herself with her clipboard, feigning referencing the itinerary she’d created for this press tour.

He was magnanimous; at most all she did was offer small story adjustments and occasional character angles, attributing any part of his craft to her was an unearned kindness. “Oh please,” she objected a small smile on her lips, daring to look at him in effort to gauge whether her sincerity would land, “you are the brilliant writer, I’m just a human sounding board.”

“Yeah, yeah, Jack’s amazing,” Ace interjected bitterly. His tone bringing to mind a toddler, who was used to being the center of attention, getting jealous & angry when someone else gets attention. “Are we done? I’m itching to explore.”

Nikki barely resisted the impulse to roll her eyes at the display of immaturity & petulance. Walking backwards so that she could address the men while they headed to the dressing rooms they’d been given to change, she scanned the itinerary again, “No. You, Bobby, & Crystal need to go down two floors to the GRT radio station offices and record enough ‘bumpers’ for this week’s rotation. Apocalypse & Diego are still ‘invading’ that livestream for another hour or so.”

Ace grumbled under his breath, but Nikki & Jack both ignored him; it was far easier that way.

“I still want you in the ring, [...] Even if it’s just you in a bikini and me. All alone.” […] “I could show you some moves.”

I still want you […]. All alone. […] show you some moves. The words rang in Nikki’s ears, echoing and twisting in her thoughts. Oh God, he couldn’t have phrased that any more temptingly if he’d a gun to his head. Her brain whited out for a second as his words registered. He didn’t mean it; he didn’t mean it. That was the mantra that she forcibly repeated in a desperate attempt to stave off the dirty thoughts that were threatening to drive her to distraction.

Nikki fought down a flush and mumbled, “I’m sure you could, mainly cause I don’t know any wrestling moves, but uh, I’m more of a behind-the-scenes gal.”

A pounding was building behind her eyes, the first sign of an impending migraine, but she set her teeth and ignored it. They had far too tight of a production schedule for anyone to be any less than 100%, even herself. God only knows what might what happen if there was no one to corral the hot-blooded wrestlers and keep them from blowing up. The segment on this show might only be 15 minutes, but that was 15 minutes on regional airwaves. It was just the exposure that they needed to kick off this press run. First regional tv, then national tv would want in.

The pressure on this segment was enough to make Nikki’s stress levels uncomfortable high, but the prospect of what was to come next was making her jittery. When she���d coordinated this nearby state media tour, she’d never imagined she’d be making the circuit with them, but Jack had wisely pointed out that this plan was her baby and as such she was the best person to keep the group on task. With her obligations as caretaker covered by the overnight nursing staff agency, Nikki had no reason to deny her boss’ request that she make the journey with the core group…

What’d he neglected to tell her, however, was that their mode of transportation was one of two vinyl-wrapped tour buses (apparently a gift from their generous financial backer.) With a group of eight on this press road-trip, they’d broken up into two groups of four, Nikki should count herself lucky that she ended up sharing with Crystal, Bobby, and Jack. It was certainly better than ending up the only woman on a bus full of testosterone!

Sharing such a tight space with any other person was hard enough, but to do so with Jack? That was a challenge of epic proportions if ever Nikki encountered one. It wasn’t that she thought cohabitating with him would be overly taxing, no more so then sharing space with Bobby and Crystal, or that she found his company unpleasant. The truth of the matter was she liked Jack; a little too much. He was handsome, charming, hard working, creative, & driven. From the moment they met on that summer day over lawnmowers, he’d occupied many an errant thought in her mind. At first she’d written it off as Her being desperate for connection in this strange new town. Only problem was it didn’t stop even when she made acquaintances and friends in Duffy. Eventually even hers self delusions gave way to reality: she was majorly crushing on her new boss.

All the men in town who could have caught her eye and she had to be into the most unavailable guy among Duffy’s residents. The man was off-limits by every definition of the term: he was older than she was, he was her boss, and, oh yeah, he was a married family man. It was hopeless crush that would have to burn out eventually. Traveling in a recreational vehicle with him for a week was an exercise in denial and unresolved personal tension, but it was her job.

She would just have to woman up and power trough. First thing was first, though, the segment was wrapping up and from her vantage point hidden off set, she could just see Ace pushing his way into Jack’s space, making the hosts wonder for a breathless moment if a brawl might break out right then.

“Clear!” shouted the director, sending everyone working on stage and off it to spring in action. There were only a few minutes of advertisements and the next segment was a cooking one. Fighting her way through the hubbub, Nikki sided up to her people as they returned backstage.

“That was great guys, very convincing!” Nikki told them brightly, “Audiences are going to be hooked on this brother-vs-brother, who will come out on top?” She shot both brothers a conspiratorial look, “That age old question will draw people in and your story for the shows will keep them there.”

@kingoftheheels

[from-the-clouds]

Kiss Me More (Part II) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist || Part One

Summary: Part two, read part one if you haven’t already! Sam & Bucky put reader in charge of looking after Zemo....again. Series loosely inspired by this song.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, mentions of sex, minor TFATWS spoilers.

A/N: Wow! I was so shocked on the feedback I got on the first part of this story. It has nearly 800 notes. I’m not used to my writing getting that kind of attention so I really appreciate the love. I decided to make this into at least a 3-4 part series and there will be eventual smut, but I feel like there’s something sweet between these two that goes beyond an obvious physical attraction, so I do want to build that a bit before we get there. This weekend I rewatched TFATWS & Civil War because I’m officially obsessed with Zemo lol. Please let me know what you think, and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. :) 

-----

“Keep an eye on him.”

Y/N watched Bucky and Sam split off again. That was now at least the third time she’d heard that phrase since she arrived in Riga. Little did they know, she was probably the worst person to be put in charge of Zemo. Truthfully, it was starting to be a little insulting.

It was unclear why she’d been brought along on this mission, when half the time Sam and Bucky were talking in hushed tones just out of her earshot. There was always more to the story than they told her, but this time, it felt like she was more out of the loop than ever.

She adjusted the neckline of the sweater she wore out of an abundance of caution, checking subconsciously to make sure it hadn’t exposed the mark Zemo had left on her from the day before. It was a discovery she’d made that morning, and persisted despite her efforts to cover it up with makeup.

“According to those two, I must be the best at babysitting you,” she muttered under her breath. It was petty, so she wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to hear. But he did.

“Babysitting?” Zemo lifted an eyebrow. 

“You know, a nanny, a governess….whatever a Baron’s equivalent is,” she said, looking him in the eye for the first time that day, which was a mistake. He looked so handsome in that long, fur-lined coat, tall and refined, hair styled perfectly. There had to be warrants out for his arrest since escaping prison, and in his current getup, he was hard to miss. 

It wasn’t easy to ignore the stifling tension between them. The Baron hadn’t left her thoughts since she’d closed the door on him the evening before. Now they were alone again. She couldn’t decide if that was thrilling or terrifying, so she decided on both.

“It’s nice of them to give us some alone time,” Zemo stepped close to her, one gloved hand pressing between her shoulder blades. Despite the cool temperature outside, it was the first thing today that had her shivering. 

“Walk with me,” he commanded sternly. She saw no opportunity to refuse as they started in the direction opposite of where Bucky and Sam had disappeared. 

“Zemo-”

“Helmut,” he corrected her. “But go on…”

“We have to focus on figuring out where Donya’s funeral will be,” she said, feeling his hand slide down to settle on the small of her back, trying to inch away, but he just pulled her closer. “We can’t waste time.”

“I know Riga inside and out, that won’t be as difficult as you and your friends think,” he murmured. His proximity was already suffocating. Or maybe comforting. It was hard to tell. “Tell me, what is your business with them? You aren’t an Avenger. This was my first time hearing your name.”

She snorted, finally finding the strength to pull away, and he dropped his hand. That was one thing that had confounded her. He was confident, took liberties with what others would allow, but knew when to stop pushing. There was something alluring to his nature. 

“I’m not,” she responded, wondering how much she was willing to share. When she stole a glance out of the corner of her eyes, his head was lowered, leaning in, listening intently for her response. She wondered if he really cared, or if he was good at pretending. It was easy to believe that he did.

“Bucky and I aren’t that different,” she continued. “That’s why we’re friends. I’m not a super soldier, but I was taught how to fight, how to kill. I followed orders for too long without questioning whether or not I was doing the right thing. And at least now, I think I am.”

“You think,” he repeated, and corrected her again like he had the day before. As much as she wanted some kind of clever or quick quip back, she wore her heart on her sleeve for the moment and shrugged. There was nothing to defend when she still wasn’t sure what responsibilities she had in this world. 

Zemo halted, and she paused too, turning back to look at him. “So you were an assassin,” he murmured, reaching out. Nodding slightly, she lowered her eyes when his gloved thumb brushed across her face. The buttery, overpowering smell of leather took her over as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I would’ve never guessed. Du bist so süß.”

Her knowledge of German was limited, but she could see a flash of what looked like affection in his eyes. He couldn’t be lying, could he? She wondered. She wanted to trust that he wasn’t, wanted to identify every good part of him she could, so she could justify the overwhelming attraction she felt towards him. Something in her just kept pulling forward against her will, like a magnet.

“You’d be surprised,” she answered, but didn’t pull away. The intensity of his gaze made her feel weak, but there was something strangely reassuring in his eyes. It was just the two of them, standing on a crowded sidewalk.

She rose her hand to clasp around his, frowning when she felt the hard loop of a ring on one of his gloved fingers. It had gone unnoticed by her, until now. He still wore a wedding band. 

It would have been easy to vocalize the observation, gauge his reaction, try to regain some upper hand and remind him who exactly he was dealing with. But, it would’ve been pointlessly cruel, as she knew what that felt like to answer that question. Those days were behind her, now. 

As if the universe was scolding her, a loud car horn broke through the perceived silence. His hand dropped from her face, and they began to walk again. 

“I had lots of time to think in prison,” he said after a heady pause in conversation. “About the things I’d done. Whatever intentions you have, to someone, you’re always the enemy. What I thought was important, trying to serve the greater good, it isn’t always worth the trouble. I was trying to protect what I had already lost, the places and people I’d taken for granted.”

Deciphering his words, she took a moment before responding. “That’s actually...very insightful,” she said, partly surprised by what he’d shared, appreciating that he felt her vulnerability, and matched it in his response.

“I know you’re stunned I’m not a brute,” he answered, increasing his pace to a determined strut rather than a lazy stroll. She was forced to keep up with him. “You’ve been told what to think about me by Sam and Bucky.”

She scoffed. “Not just them. The entire world. All the people you’ve hur-”

He halted and turned to face her so quickly, she collided with his chest and her breath caught in her throat. 

“I’m not that man anymore,” his voice was nearly a growl, disgust laced in his features as he looked down at her. 

But as soon as she recognized it, he became expressionless again, backing away. Falling back into step beside him, they continued to walk, a bit faster than they had been before. She followed him, at this point convinced that she might get lost without his guidance, but a little startled by his sudden change in behavior.

“What do you think of Riga?” he asked her as they cut through an alleyway. His voice held none of the venom that it had a few moments ago, so she wondered if she’d just hit a sore nerve.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered, admiring the old brick buildings and fine architecture. “But I think I haven’t had much of a chance to appreciate it.”

“Have you been thinking about me?”

They ducked under an alcove, and she realized he’d carefully led her off the crowded streets. It was much quieter here. She suddenly didn’t feel as protected as she had been with him in the open. The temperature in the shaded space was much lower than expected. And he was standing over her, waiting for some response she didn’t know if she could give. 

“I haven’t forgotten about last night, liebling,” he continued. 

Of course she had been thinking of him. Nearly nonstop. What they’d shared, what it meant. She hadn’t been able to sleep until she relieved herself, fingers rubbing her clit and delving into her warmth, whimpering his name when she finally came. Still, it had done little to quell the ache inside her. 

It was a horrible thing, she’d decided. Objectively horrible, and unprofessional. There was the consideration of accessibility. What did he see in her beyond a means to an end? Was she really going to throw everything she’d worked for away to a man who was going to use her to scratch an itch?

Too much was at stake, Sam and Bucky’s trust, her reputation, her job, and she couldn’t allow it to go on. 

But oh, how much she wanted it to. 

“Yesterday was nice,” she straightened up, holding her own. “I won’t lie to you.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly in a self-satisfied smirk. 

“But I’m not foolish,” she continued. “Coming on to the first woman you see after you get out of jail? Seems pretty convenient.”

At first, the Baron tilted his head to the side, his brows pulled together at her words. But after a moment, the smile returned, and he chuckled. “Is that what you think this is about?”

“Don’t insult me, Helmut,” she said sternly, trying her best not to feel embarrassed. She was only being honest.

“Are you always so severe to yourself?” he asked, tutting lightly. 

It would have been better to say nothing. Why give him anything at all? 

She didn’t answer his question, just backed away from him and began walking in no particular direction, wanting only to increase the space between them and regain her common sense. That was impossible however, as she was jolted backwards before she even knew what was happening, a firm hand on her upper arm, and she was chest to chest with Zemo once more. 

“We were in Madripoor together. I could’ve had my way with many women there if I wanted. But I didn’t.”

“Please-” she rolled her eyes.

“If all I wanted to do was fuck someone, I could have done it by now,” he stalked forward, the air pressure around them dropping, weighed by the tension hanging thick between them. “But that’s not what I want. I want you.”

His words, spoken in a soft, low purr rattled away every bit of resolve she had left in her. Some last ditch effort found her stepping backwards, but her body met the brick wall behind them and she realized he had her cornered. 

In more ways than one, she thought.

Taking in a shaky breath, she looked up at his eyes, clouded with lust. “I know you want me,” he said, not a shred of doubt in his voice. But why should there have been? He was right. 

Her eyes darted around, like someone or something around them was going to jump out and save her from herself. It didn’t go unnoticed. “There’s no need to be scared, liebling. I feel it, too.”

With that, he closed the gap between their lips. He tasted sweet, like the candies he’d been eating back at his flat. Turkish delight. She was drowning in him again, his scent, his touch, everything about him enveloped and beguiled her. Her shirt had bunched up slightly somewhere along their walk and his gloved hands explored the exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

She surrendered, letting him tease open her mouth and claim her wholly. It was still bad, she knew. But there wasn’t any last bit of self-control left in her. 

The layers of clothing between them didn’t allow for the same proximity she’d had to him the evening before. Groaning in delight and frustration, she reached up to tangle and rake her fingers through his hair, as his fingers curled around the top of her sweater, revealing the sensitive skin of her neck. 

“Don’t hide this,” his lips left hers as his eyes focused on the stamp of affection he’d left behind the day before. “Let them see.”

“You know I can’t,” she responded, sheepishly pulling it back into place. Studying her with amiable consideration, his hand rose to brush tenderly across her cheekbone. 

“I thought you’d come to me last night,” she confessed, drawing away slightly, shocked by her own admission. But right now, she didn’t feel the need to put up as much of a facade. He looked positively virile; panting, his cheeks flushed and hair mussed, pupils blown out as he focused on her. To know she was the cause of his current state of disarray gave her an immense amount of satisfaction. A buried, salacious part of her wondered what else she could do to make him look even more unkempt.

“I considered it,” he said, sounding almost timid. “But I want to do this right.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss beneath her ear. “In private, so no one can disturb us,” he continued, lips moving down her neck. “We can take our time, you can be as loud as you’d like.”

The mental image he was currently painting for her was doing very little to strengthen her convictions, whatever those had been. The thought of her legs wrapped around his torso, naked bodies pressed together sent a bolt of electricity through the pit of her stomach, radiating outwards. She wanted his lips on every inch of her skin. Aching at the possibility, the present tease of his teeth nibbling on her collarbone wasn’t helping.

“You know we can’t,” she didn’t try to stop the thought as it came out of her mouth.

“What is there to lose?”

Everything, she thought, but didn’t answer. She couldn’t really, as his gloved hand was trailing slowly under her jacket and sweater, against her bare skin, and cupping her breast through her bra. Whimpering, she couldn’t control the way her body arched against his.

Hooking her knee on his hip, she let him press forward, feeling the warmth of his excitement through his trousers and her jeans. He ground against her once, teasingly, and she moaned softly into his mouth. 

He was the one to pull away, and she was thankful he did. “Think about it, liebling,” he said softly, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. “Du hast die Kontrolle.”

“We can’t,” she answered again, but even she didn’t believe herself. Raking her hands through her hair and adjusting her rumpled sweater, she straightened up. “We have a job to do.”

Brushing past him out of the alcove, each step she took away from him gave her the self control she desperately needed. She glanced over her shoulder to see him reluctantly trudging behind. At this point, she wasn’t foolish. There were only two ways this could end.

----

Part III

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[free-pancakes]

here's part 2 to the levihan marvel au drabble! im HOOKED help it's not even funny the brainrot hello

part 1 here

“This feels wrong.”

Hange’s hands reached for another arrow.

“Do I... know these people?”

Voices yelled her name, but she didn’t recognize them. Her own ears couldn’t tell if they were familiar or not.

Hange watched her own arrows pierce the hearts of the people in her path, destruction—her mind told her she was winning, but her heart didn’t agree.

She walked away from the scene, a bad feeling lingering in her hand as she gripped her bow close. Unsure of where she was heading, her mind told her to continue, until she reached an unfamiliar location under the cover of night.

A van drove up, and a man with blonde hair and glasses emerged from it—she felt herself salute immediately.

“Agent Zoe, your next task—eliminate Agent Ackerman,” Zeke announced coldly.

Hange paused. It felt as though her soul was split in two—her mind ordered her to go, hopping into the van. But once again, at the same time, something didn’t feel right.

“Ackerman?”

——

Levi revved his motorcycle as he sped through the streets. He stared up, dusk’s blend of purple and orange reminding him of Hange, happy and bright—he choked back tears.

As he gripped the handlebars tighter, an aching pain tugged at the skin of his knuckles, reminding him of the mess he left Erwin and Moblit in. He had been so kind to gift them both a black eye before Petra and Oluo successfully managed to hold him back. And though he felt bad… he didn’t regret it—it has been 5 days since Hange has been gone. 5 whole days. And he knew it wouldn’t have happened if they were together. They had always been safer together.

But the lingering thought set up shop in his mind—Zeke had a powerful grip on her mind and he had her well-being riding on his shoulders.

News searches, and finding that fellow agents have fallen by Hange’s own arrows had been his only clues to her whereabouts. He wasn’t sure how he was going to find her, but he wouldn’t stop until he did. She saved him, and he’d only do the same for her.

——

Under the cover of night, Levi continued to ride his motorcycle throughout the city around locations Hange was recently seen in, when suddenly a loud backfire sounded from behind him.

“Hange??” He yelled in surprise as she sped in on a motorcycle right on his tail.

He didn’t expect Hange to be the one finding him.

An explosion blasted from his side.

And of course, she was heavily armed.

Levi ripped through the streets as Hange remained close behind him, the smell of burnt rubber lingering through the air every sharp turn he made. Another arrow flew by his head, blasting the road in front of him—luckily he was able to drive away just in time before concrete and asphalt could pummel him. It gave her time to catch up to him, and for a moment, he caught a glimpse of her face.

In her eyes was a dark abyss, blank, unrecognizable. Devoid of all the light he ever knew her to be, no smile, no nothing.

It shook Levi to his core.

Distracted, he missed another arrow of hers shooting right at him, and had to jump off the motorcycle to dodge it safely. Levi fell and skidded onto the concrete, yelling out as his skin slid on the rocks.

He was thrown for a loop seeing Hange—relieved to see her again, but simultaneously pained. But, he shook himself out of it. Luckily it was late and no citizens were out and about, but he didn’t want to risk it. So, he made desperate moves to lead himself and Hange at least a little outside the city limits, and he knew just where to go. He ran swiftly back to his motorcycle, and sped down the road towards the docks. A few tears streamed down his face as he rode—whether it was from the road burn or seeing Hange, he wasn’t sure.

——

He led Hange to an abandoned facility just outside the city limits, hopping out to run inside—it’d prevent her from using the explosive arrows in the tight space.

Levi crept through the metal stairs, memories of one of their previous missions ending here on his mind. He hoped the location would stir some memories for her as well. As he searched for higher ground to gain vision for himself, he should have expected Hange to be this fast. There she was, standing on the other side of the metal grate walkway, hanging several floors above ground.

The silence was deafening—he stared at her dark, blank eyes again as they made eye contact—stirring something desperate in Levi.

“Hange, it’s me,” he stuttered, unsure of how to snap her out of it. She ignored his words and pointed her bow at him. Levi dodged as it flew towards him, sliding to swipe her off her feet with a kick.

But the mind-wiping didn’t erase her muscle memory dodging Levi’s go-to move.

She stepped down on his ankle with perfect timing, but he propelled his torso upwards to grab at her bow. He yanked down to bring her to the floor, the metal walkway they were on beginning to swing wildly. The two of them slid and rocked back and forth, tumbling over each other as each tried to gain the upper hand.

“Hange, it’s me, Levi!” He yelled as they struggled. Hange once again ignored his plea, and finally freed herself. To Levi’s surprise, she did the unexpected. He recognize her pulling an explosive arrow, and she aimed it right past him to blow the end of the walkway’s attachment to the ceiling. At this point Levi knew, Zeke had ordered her to kill him—she was not exactly being careful.

The two fell through the air, but Levi was able to ground himself on a platform, luckily catching Hange by the hand before she could fall and severely injure herself, her bow and bag of arrows falling a few stories below, landing with a crash. He took another hand and lifted her up onto the platform, and they began to fight once again. As always, their hand-to-hand combat was evenly matched, each blow matched with a block, every move countered. And like the first time they had ever fought, Levi found himself smiling, and he swore, he saw her smiling too.

It hit Levi like a ton of bricks—the mind-wiping didn’t erase her muscle memory earlier. The mind-wiping didn’t erase what lay in her heart.

And as though Hange was speaking to him, two words weirdly came to mind: “Cognitive recalibration—“

Levi almost laughed out loud as the phrase came to mind.

“Stupid four-eyes,” Levi let out as he remembered her bright voice telling him what that meant years and years ago:

“It means hitting someone really hard in the head, Levi!”

He blocked another punch from Hange, and swung towards her head, but she dodged too quickly. So Levi did the unexpected, tackling her, and her head hit the railing.

Hange yelled out, her hands reaching up to stabilize her head.

“L-Levi?” She said, making Levi’s gut wrench hearing her say his name once again.

Her eyes were still in a daze, not fully there. So Levi decided the safest move…

“Sorry, Hange,” he whispered as he elbowed her in the head, knocking her out cold.

Levi paused, breathing heavily, exhausted. With his sleeve, he wiped the blood dripping from his nose as he stood. He looked down at Hange, and tears of relief fell down his face. He pushed the hair from her face, and kissed her softly on the forehead. Safe.

Levi picked her up, balancing her on his back, letting her head rest on his shoulder. He let himself smile, and climbed down to collect her bow and arrows. He just hoped that it worked, and that her beautiful mind would return shortly.

——

Hange woke, her mind spinning, like she had been riding a crazy roller coaster for days. Her thoughts were cloudy, and she couldn’t hold her head up properly. She groaned, a prickly headache coming on. When she tried moving, she gradually realized her arms were bound to whatever she was sitting on—the word infirmary lit up at the door nearby her, and she tried to ground herself. But, screams of comrades sounded in her brain, broken images of destruction flashed before her eyes before she could focus.

“Are these memories or dreams?” She thought, but it’s like she knew deep down, she wouldn’t be waking up from a nightmare anytime soon. Tears streamed down her cheeks as memories from the past few days became clearer and clearer in her mind.

“Hange…”

Hange looked up, her eyes still dazed.

“You’re gonna be alright.”

Levi stood up, crouching down to look at into her eyes at her level. He almost smiled—she was coming back.

“How do you know I’ll be okay??” She yelled. “I’m still trying to get Zeke out,” she whispered, sweat hugging both sides of her face. Then, Hange continued to cry: “Levi, how… how many agents did I… did I—” “Hange, don’t.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Don’t do that to yourself, Hange. It was Zeke’s doing, not yours.”

She breathed heavily.

“It’ll take some time to level out, Hange. Rest.”

Still trying to find her mind again, she barked back—“Do you know how it feels to be separated from yourself, have your brain played with, unmade??”

Levi paused—she didn’t even know how strong her heart was, that it almost overcame Zeke’s mind wiping even without his help. She didn’t know how powerful she really was.

“…You know I do.”

Hange muttered regretfully, “Sorry.”

Levi shrugged it off, eliciting an understanding smile from Hange.

“You know where Zeke is now?”

“No. But we’ll find him again, won’t we?” A devious grin appeared on Hange’s face. “I’d love to put an arrow through his stupid looking glasses.”

Levi sat down on the bed next to Hange, hands folded neatly in his lap.

“Now you’re sounding more like you.”

Hange smiled and laid her head on his shoulder.

“We’ll get him, Hange. Don’t worry.”

She turned upwards to face him from where her head lay—“What did Zeke do to you, Levi? I know you’re here for me, Erwin, Moblit… the rest of our close comrades. I have not doubt about that. But I never thought you’d ever really care to fight our war.”

Levi looked at his hands, bandages over the road burn from their fight, reminding him of the look of Hange’s eyes completely blank and unrecognizable in front of him. He couldn’t let Zeke walk around earth thinking he could get away with that.

Levi looked down at Hange, seeing only light and warmth dancing around her big brown eyes, a shy smile on her face making his heart happy.

“I guess… I’ve been compromised.”

[moonyswriting]

Suit yourself

This is for @unadulteratedpaperparadise :) I wanted to make you something, because you are amazing, so i wrote this for you <3

Thank you so much to @moonofthenight for being my beta at this hour especially :)

Characters by @lumosinlove

„I have nothing to wear,“ Kasey complained, standing in front of their closet, a few shirts pooling at his feet.

There was a groan from the living room of their shared flat and then footsteps making their way over to the bedroom. Alex coming to a halt in the door frame. “Babe. Look down, pick something up, you’re done,” he said smiling at his boyfriend. They had hours left until Remus’ and Sirius’ wedding, so they were in no rush. By hours, Alex meant 63 hours.

He shook out of his thoughts, concentrating on the frustrated boyfriend at hand.

Kasey huffed, “Have you seen these? We’re going to a wedding. The best wedding-” he stopped himself, biting his lip for a second before continuing, “the best wedding we’ll be going to for a while, I will not just wear a black suit and be done with it,” Kasey stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Alex had been planning to just wear his blue suit. He had debated about buying a new tie to go with Natalie’s attire, but that would have been all.

“Hey,” as if he knew exactly what was going on, Kasey stepped out of the pile of clothes and up to the redhead, “I know you were planning on wearing your blue suit. It’s a great choice, you look so hot in that damn thing,” the blond looked down at his boyfriend, grinning “But I want to look just as good,” Kasey simply told him, leaning down to peck his cheek.

Alex was about to cut in, complain, that Kasey was the best-looking man on the planet, whether he was wearing a trash bag or sweatpants or gear or a goddamn ball gown- he had to stop himself at that, because Alex’s thoughts would definitely not help Kasey in choosing an outfit. Although he wouldn’t have to wear one at all, which might take a little stress away.

Alex's head snapped up again. During his thoughts his eyes had somehow moved to Kasey’s lips without his control. He remembered the days where people used to think he had a crush on them, just because his in-thoughts brain had decided to make his eyes stare at inappropriate places. Then Alex remembered that wasn’t the case anymore. He actually wanted, what his eyes were implying. Tilting his head up again, he placed a kiss on Kasey’s lips.

Then Alex had to tell him. “You will always look incredible. No matter what.”

The other smiled at that. “Even if I wear a neon green bow tie with a neon pink suit?”

Letting out a bright laugh, Alex told him, “Even if you wear sweatpants to the wedding.”

“I would rather stay at home,” Kasey huffed out, still smiling though. Then he turned back towards the closet, “I was going to ask for your advice, but from what you just said, that will do more harm than good. No offense.”

“Wow,“ the older pretended to be hurt by the comment, laughing too much to make it believable, which got Kasey to join in.

They only noticed their girlfriend had joined them, when Alex felt arms hugging him around his chest. He felt her hum into his back, her cheek pressed to his spine. Alex closed his eyes at the feeling, leaning into it.

Kasey being Kasey, they didn’t stay alone for long. Alex and Nat both got a kiss on the cheek, before they were cuddled by the blond, trying to squish himself as close to his loves as possible.

“Of course he would,” she muttered under her breath, smiling up at her boys. “That’s what today is for.”

After a while, Natalie asked them what they had been laughing about, the question only resulting in more of that, until she had to laugh as well. She still couldn’t believe how she got to have them. Both of them.

“Kasey needs help with his outfit for the wedding,” Alex told her between breaths. She didn’t seem surprised.

Both hockey players looked up in surprise.

“I’m taking you shopping, because you,” she pointed at Kasey, “will not stop whining until we bought you a new something and you” she continued, pointing at Alex this time, “will need another tie, because all blue is a great look, but why live life in one color?”

–

Since Natalie and Kasey had agreed on helping Alex first, they were currently browsing through the tie section of the store. They had already found a few that would either fit with Natalie’s dress or Alex’s hair and some that just looked nice.

After making a few decisions without Alex, the other two let him see the final options they had limited themselves to. A floral one with red and orange flowers that would compliment his hair or a sky blue one that would not only fit with the jumpsuit Natalie had picked out for herself a few weeks ago, but would also make his eyes pop, as Alex’s partners had explained excitedly.

He couldn‘t help but be biased towards the blue one, when he saw both their eyes glint with something. The team knew about them, that they were dating and being each other’s date to the wedding, so he might as well match.

Alex knew he made the right choice, when he told them the blue one. Natalie couldn‘t hide her grin and it lifted the corner’s of Alex‘s mouth automatically.

“A redhead down, a blond to go!” and with that Natalie was already off to another section, where shirts were displayed. Both boyfriends went after her.

A few minutes went by of them just quickly scanning through the options, when they turned around to find no less than seven shirts already piled in Kasey’s arms a face splitting grin on his face.

“Oh babe,” both his partners said at the same time in the exact same voice. It would have been scary if Kasey wasn’t head over heels in love with both of them.

“Can I try them on?” he asked them excitedly, already subtly moving towards the changing rooms. They knew he had golden retriever tendencies, but this time they practically saw a tail wagging behind him.

And how could they ever deny him anything when he had puppy dog eyes to match.

–

It took about sixteen shirts to find one that Kasey loved enough to want to wear it to the wedding.

Alex was sitting on one of the chairs in front of the changing rooms and after Natalie had complained about the professional hockey player taking a seat before her, she was now sitting in his lap, her fingers moving through his red curls as Kasey stepped out again.

“Tada!” he stretched his arms out right before gesturing to his shirt. “I think this might be the one,” he told them, turning around to look at himself in the mirror. Kasey was fully aware that brides usually used that phrase, but he didn’t care. He was allowed this moment. Maybe he would get to hear that sentence from Natalie and Alex soon. Maybe they could have that.

He turned back to his partners, showing off the white floral shirt again.

“You look incredible,” Alex told him, a bit dazed and not looking his boyfriend in the eyes. Kasey looked down, where the redhead’s eyes were fixed, caught on his half open shirt, revealing more of his chest than would probably be considered normal at a wedding.

Natalie didn’t really reply, she just got up, kissing Kasey. No one of the throuple seemed to mind. After breaking the kiss, leaving the goalie blushing, she leaned in whispering into his ear “I’m buying you that right now. You look fantastic.”

Walking back over to Alex, sitting down again, they watched Kasey shake out of his state, smiling to himself and turning around to change back into his normal clothes.

Natalie really did pay for both of their things and put in some earrings she had seen close to the checkout. When she handed over her card to the cashier, she got a snort form behind her. She turned around to look at her boyfriends with a confused expression.

“You’re like our sugar mommy,” Alex told her smiling brightly.

She was fully aware they earned a whole world more than she did, but she liked paying for them every once in a while. She didn’t want them to think she wanted them because of the money. Logically, she knew she never had to pay, but it just felt right sometimes and it was all worth it for their expressions once they got their things.

They would look incredible at the wedding.

[firelxdykatara]

aha, there it is.

and i think this is one of the benefits of first person, and why it works so well for this book, which probably could still have been accomplished with a limited third POV but it wouldn’t have rung quite the same. because there is so much of an emphasis on the fact that jude is capable of lying, and she exists in a world full of people who can’t.

and she is also telling this story to someone. with the framing, i almost wonder if the identity of the person she’s telling this story to may be revealed by the end of the trilogy. but even if not, it works--she can lie outright to the audience, despite being the viewpoint character. and since i knew cardan was going to become high king somehow, i figured that she was going to use his oath of service to do it.

what’s going to be more interesting is seeing how this turns into a permanent thing. because at the moment, it’s meant to last for seven years, at which point cardan will abdicate and pass the crown down to oak. but such plans rarely pan out exactly as they’re meant to, and she only has cardan’s service for a year and a day (for which, no doubt, he is going to make her pay dearly the instant an opportunity presents itself). something is going to have to give, and i’m excited to see what.

(especially since i know these two horrible idiots are going to fall in love and it’s going to be awful and delicious and i can’t wait.)

a couple highlights:

against my better judgment, despite the fact that he is terrible, cardan is also fun.

no matter how hard she tries, jude can’t help being drawn to him. even enjoying his company. he’s horrible and a monster, but then, she’s busily becoming a monster herself--she knows it, and i don’t think she relishes it so much as she is resigned to it, because it is the only way she can get what she is truly after. power over her own life and destiny.

they really are a well-matched pair, little as she’d ever want to admit it.

it stings a little, that he has that kindness in him. i don’t want to see it.

it’s a kindness he never showed her, and it speaks, i think, to another layer of humanity (for want of a better word; perhaps compassion?) that she doesn’t want to think of cardan possessing. he’s so much easier to manipulate and overpower if she doesn’t stop to think about feelings she used to believe he didn’t even have. and it makes it so much more difficult for her to ignore the things he makes her feel.

“have i told you how hideous you look tonight?” “no.” “i cannot.”

because he can’t lie, and that would be a whopper of a fib if he actually phrased it like a statement. because she’s beautiful, he’s always thought so, he can’t help but keep thinking so. and he also notices the bruise blossoming on her jaw, something that looks very like concern on his face, and my heart wibbled a bit.

“bring me the crown, cardan.” “no, brother. i do not think that i will. i think that if i did not have another reason to cross you, i would do it for spite.”

it’s a small moment, but contrasted with the way jude was so positive, just a few seconds ago, that cardan was going to blow their plan to hell because balekin is all he has left--but that’s not quite true, in that moment, is it? he has jude. he has her assurances that he will be able to live free of the crown and do as he pleases. i think, maybe, he hopes that she won’t mind kissing him some more in the future, however little he’d like to admit it.

and then jude forces him to bear the crown instead. haha. oops.

[seasonofthewicth]

A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 15

AN: This chapter takes us over the 60k line, and I never expected this fic to get this long! We’re finally at the date! The date!!! Please nobody throw anything at me (even virtually)... 

masterlist - ao3 - my askbox

-- 

“My saviour.”

Aelin hurried her final few steps through the hallway towards where Dorian stood, her heels clacking along the linoleum flooring and echoing through the now silent hallways of the school. 

“Thank you,” She gasped as she closed her fingers around the royal blue mug he held in an outstretched hand and the scent of freshly brewed coffee swirled around her. She breathed it in deeply as she took her first sip, relaxing into the rich taste and the anticipation of the caffeine induced energy boost she knew was imminent.

“Anytime.” Dorian’s smile was charming as he slid into place beside her as they headed to the corridor bearing both of their classrooms. 

“I needed this,” Aelin spoke as they covered ground. “Rutting Fenrys rushed me out the loft so quickly this morning, something about an early meeting with Maeve, as if that’s somehow more important than coffee.”

Aelin shrugged as she finished, her main concern with the rush had been that she had missed out on her second cup of coffee this morning, but Dorian’s brow pulled in tight.

“Is he-” He cleared his throat as his walk slowed. “Is everything alright?”

Aelin slowed her pace to match the crawl Dorian had adopted and she tilted her head to the side to shoot him a look of confusion. It wasn’t like Dorian to stumble over his words. 

“Yes, I think so,” Aelin began slowly. “He mentioned something about funding for a trip. For one of the sports teams maybe, I- Why are you blushing?”

A delightful, soft rose tint had graced the planes of Dorian’s high cheekbones. He turned away from her slightly but Aelin shot out a hand to grasp his bicep and pulled him back around to face her. 

Aelin tugged him to a stop as she said, “Explain.”

Dorian brought a hand up to brush back one of the raven curls draped across his forehead. “I think I’m going on the trip too.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes, suspicion burying its hooks deep within her. “Why would you volunteer to go on a school trip outside of work time? And a sports trip at that.”

A flicker of expression shadowed his face before he carefully schooled it into calm. “Fenrys and I have been… speaking.”

Dorian phrased it like a question and Aelin’s mouth dropped open in an onset of shock. 

“You and Fenrys speaking? Like… you and Fenrys?” 

Dorian nodded. “I think so.”

“How did I not know this?” Aelin cried. “Is everyone keeping their relationship a secret from me?”

“Aelin,” Dorian began his walk again and she hurried to keep up. “It’s not a relationship, we’ve mostly just been texting. No big deal and-”

“It is a big deal,” Aelin interjected. She held her free hand up in surrender when he shot her an unimpressed look. 

“It’s not a big deal, and it’s nothing serious.” He told her with an air of finality and she knew not to push it any further.

Aelin had known of their brief hook-up years before she had got the job at the school, but she had to admit she hadn’t expected anything more to bloom between the two. 

It had, quite possibly, been a bit of an oversight on her behalf. She had noticed Fenrys perking up whenever Dorian was mentioned, and he had always found a reason to appear whenever she had brought Dorian around to the loft. 

Even most recently in the hospital, he had jerked to attention the moment she had mentioned Dorian. 

“You scoundrel,” She said with the beginnings of a wicked grin, unable to resist one last taunt. “Using a school funded trip as a romantic getaway with your man.” 

Dorian only winked at her, “Would you expect anything less?”

Aelin laughed, the sound a sinful cackle. From Dorian and Fenrys? No, probably not.

“And,” He continued. “You can’t talk about keeping secrets. You’ve gone radio silent on Rowan recently, and I bet if anything bad had happened I would know about it.”

It was Aelin’s turn to blush. She hadn’t told anyone Rowan had asked her on a date yet. She had wanted to keep it just to herself for a little while, at least until after the date had occurred. 

He had asked her out a couple of days ago now, but with Aelin working in the daytime and the majority of Rowan’s shifts being concentrated in the evenings, they were still yet to find a chance. Aelin was bursting with anticipation and she had struggled to sleep during most of the nights since their recent encounter in the kitchen. 

An element of her insomnia was the excitement, her anticipation to finally be on a date with Rowan, but a large part, arguably the largest part, was the knowledge that Rowan slept just across the hall from her. It would be so easy for her to tiptoe across the space and into his room, into his bed, and to be faced with Rowan. 

Rowan who she had now kissed, who she had been pressed up against, the heat of his body burning every inch of her own. But she knew she couldn’t cross that gap, both physically and metaphorically. At least not yet anyway. 

Rowan had been the one to press the brakes on the two of them, and Aelin knew it was coming from a place of respect rather than a lack of desire, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult to temper the part of her brain that wanted to throw all caution to the wind and-

“Damn,” Dorian laughed. “It must be really bad for you to end up that inside your own head.”

Aelin bit her lip. She hadn’t told anyone, not even Lysandra, but surely telling Dorian couldn’t hurt. 

“Just promise me you won’t tell Fenrys.”

“Gods, that bad?” Dorian joked. 

“It’s not bad, just don’t tell him.” She said simply.

Dorian nodded his agreement. “Promise.”

“It’s not bad at all,” She began with a coy smile. “He asked me on a date.”

Dorian’s returning smile was wide as he took her in. “Took him long enough,” was all he said with a slight laugh, before he continued, “When?” 

“The weekend.”

Aelin knew she wore a doelike smile, one she couldn’t help at the thought of Rowan. She was excited, sue her. It felt like she had been waiting for herself and Rowan to reach this point since she moved into the loft, and their relationship had only gone from strength to strength since she moved in. It felt as if her anticipation was reaching the climax, but there was relief that went hand in hand with it. 

Rowan was right along with her, treading steadily by her side as they stepped down the path of whatever it was that was coming their way. 

He had been the one to kiss her, and the one to ask her on a date. Aelin knew where she stood with him, and where he stood with her, for the first time in what felt like a long time and the feeling was reassuring; it allowed her to relax into the excitement she held. 

“What are you doing?” Dorian asked. “Something outdoors?”

“Why something outdoors?” Aelin laughed and Dorian shrugged his shoulders. 

“I don’t know, seems to fit Rowan.” 

Aelin laughed again, she knew Rowan enjoyed the outdoors, maybe slightly more than the average individual, but she wasn’t sure something like that was what he had meant when he had promised to plan something nice.

“No,” Aelin said, pausing to take a sip of her coffee. “I think we’re getting dinner.”

She still struggled to contain the smile that wanted to dawn, the joy that ran through her at the thought was almost childlike and free. 

“The classic,” Dorian teased, but Aelin was unbothered. She truly didn’t care whether or not Rowan took her for a simple dinner or an extravagant adventure. Spending time with him was enough.

“Shut up,” She laughed, swatting the air between them. “I’ve got further than you.”

“Now that’s not exactly true, is it?”

Aelin snorted, almost spitting her drink across the hallway. Dorian’s smile was perfectly innocent, no sign of the act his comment was alluding to and she shook her head. 

It wouldn’t be long, Aelin was sure, until she and Rowan were there too. 

-- 

The week had dragged on for Rowan. A seemingly endless cycle of mindless shifts at the bar, and stealing snippets of time with Aelin in the loft during the limited hours they were both in the apartment. The time they shared had never seemed so brief as now when he craved her so.

Rowan had enjoyed those stolen moments, filled with the desire to simply reach out and touch. He longed to kiss her lips again, but he had promised he would only do so after their date. 

He had settled himself to tracing his fingertips down the line of her hand, tracing the delicate lines and pathways of her veins beneath her golden skin. He had allowed himself the pleasure of tucking a rogue lock of hair behind her ear, and relished in the spark that bloomed within him when he lightly caressed his thumb down the shell of her ear. 

Rowan longed for their date, and for the end of the night that would inevitably follow. The date itself was a long time coming to Rowan, and he didn’t wish to rush through it, he wanted to savour the moment and the image of Aelin sat beautifully across from him, but there was an impatience within him for the part that came after.

The part where he would finally allow himself the sweet touch of Aelin’s lips against his own once again. 

He had managed to drift through the week, spurred on by the evernearing climax he could sense along the horizon. Rowan had managed to trade his Saturday night shift with an older bartender named Malakai in order to take Aelin out. The older man had only shaken his head, and assured Rowan to take the time he needed to treat his special lady. 

Something about the comment had thrown Rowan somewhat. His lady. Aelin.

The idea was both exhilarating and terrifying. It filled him with warmth in his chest and a churning in his stomach simultaneously. 

He fiddled with his collar as he scrutinised himself in the mirror. Rowan had been ready for a while, but the nervous energy within him was channelling itself into mindless motions and fluttering hands. 

He had swapped his usual flannel and baggy jeans for a crisp, white shirt and a new pair of dark jeans. Smarter attire than usual, fitting for the occasion, but relaxed by the couple of buttons undone at the top of his collar. He had thrown a jumper over the shirt, hoping to fight off any of the approaching chill in the air of a late summer night in Adarlan. 

They weren’t going far, but he wanted to make sure he was prepared. 

He had chosen a relatively nice restaurant for their date, one only a couple of blocks from the loft, but he hadn’t wanted to go anywhere overly formal. He thought a more relaxed environment fit himself and Aelin better than something stiff and uptight. 

There weren’t many secrets between them, living together and across the hall from each other didn’t allow for many to exist. He had chosen a setting for them to enjoy each other’s company, they didn’t need a candlelit dinner while they discussed their favourite colours, they didn’t need to sip champagne while they compared their careers. 

Rowan had never been on a first date like it, he knew Aelin so well by now and truthfully, it didn’t feel much different than the dinners they had eaten together in the past. There was a level of comfortability between them that most of the usual first-date fears were absent. 

Rowan felt as if his fears were different to those preceding a usual first date. This was Aelin, and he couldn’t bear to let her down. He wanted to make it special and a night that she would remember. 

He had chosen to send her a text with the details, and he had heard her laugh through the walls when she had received it. It was exactly the response he had hoped to receive, and now he assumed she was tucked away in her bedroom getting ready. 

It was almost time for him to cross the hall, and he was struggling to hold back. His foot had been tapping on the ground for a while and he pressed a hand to his knee, hoping to halt the pounding. 

Finally he gave up, sure that five minutes wouldn’t make that much of a difference to Aelin anyway. He swung his door open and crossed the hall in a second to knock gently against Aelin’s door. Within a second she swung the door open and Rowan lost any attempt at a greeting.

He could only marvel as he took her in. Aelin looked truly phenomenal. 

Her hair was curled and flowed down the length of her back, with the front tresses pinned back behind her ears. She wore a black dress covered in small, shining, golden stars that hit mid thigh leaving her toned legs on display until they tucked away into small black boots at her feet. 

He knew from the gentle way she bit her lip she was waiting for him to speak and a whisper of a smirk crept up into the corner of her lips. Rowan cleared his throat. 

“Hi.” His voice was rough, but Aelin’s smile dawned into a full smile. One Rowan knew he returned. 

“Hi,” She mimicked, her voice soft. 

He allowed himself the luxury of a moment to take her in. To track his eyes down her face and back up, taking in the brightness of the blue in her eyes, the flush of her skin and the shining golden highlights through her hair. 

“Aelin,” He breathed. “You look incredible.”

Aelin preened at the compliment, her smile spreading even wider as she leaned to brace herself in the doorframe. 

“Thank you, and you too.” 

Rowan bit his lip at the appreciative look in her own eyes as she took him in. He fought the embarrassment that teased his senses at her appraisal and attempted to lean into the flattery that accompanied it.

“Ready to go?” He asked.  

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I’m curious where you’re taking me though,” She said with another easy smile as she turned to grab her small shoulder bag off her bed. 

Rowan watched the motion and the glimpse of thigh the waves of her skirt allowed him as she spun. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and he couldn’t believe she had agreed to go on a date with him. Or the level of pure joy radiating from her at the prospect. 

He straightened himself as something settled in his stomach at the thought. Aelin reached him again and he offered her an arm. 

“You haven’t got much longer to wait before you find out; I’m not ruining the surprise now,” He told her as she slipped her arm around his own and stepped out of her bedroom.

“Do I look okay for where we’re going?” She asked, looking down at herself suddenly vulnerable. 

Incredulity struck him, at the idea that Aelin could look anything less than perfect. He couldn’t hold himself back from dropping a faint kiss to the top of her head. “You look perfect.”

A beautiful cloud of rose dusted her cheeks and Rowan smiled again, he was sure this was the most he had smiled in a long time. 

“So, dinner?” He asked as they stepped into the hallway by the door. 

“Dinner,” Aelin agreed as she slipped her arm from his to slide into her coat.

“You guys are getting dinner?” Lorcan appeared in front of them and Rowan froze. 

Only a moment later the front door to the loft opened at Rowan’s side and Aedion and Lysandra strode into the loft, tucked up in jackets from wherever they had been. 

“Oh, hello,” Aedion laughed at the apparent welcome party. “Are we all heading out somewhere?”

Rowan cursed the gods as Lorcan spoke again. “Dinner.”

Aedion nodded appreciatively and looked to Lysandra who only quirked a brow. Rowan braced himself for Aedion to deliver the damning verdict. “Great, we’ll join.”

Rowan could only look to Aelin, unable to hide the mild panic he knew was stark on his face. Aelin looked back up at him, and from the twist of her mouth he knew she wasn’t thrilled, but was frozen in the same predicament he was in. 

They couldn’t, or didn’t want to, reveal their exact plans for the night. 

Rowan had wanted to keep this just for the two of them, at least for the night, and he knew Aelin felt the same.  

“We weren’t going anywhere exciting,” He tried, and Aelin attempted her agreement at his side. 

Aedion shook his head, still painfully oblivious. “No big deal, I’m not sure I’m up for anything too fancy now.” 

“Is Fenrys coming?” Lorcan asked as he pulled on his trainers, and Rowan squeezed his hands lightly into fists at his sides. His head snapped to the side when he felt Aelin’s touch at his wrist, she linked her smallest finger through his own, tucked out of sight behind his back. 

She looked up to him, a small smile across her painted lips accompanied by an amused look in her eyes, and he knew she was disappointed but he understood the gesture. He could feel his own annoyance fading into an amused acceptance, and he offered her a small closed-lipped smile of his own as he gazed down at her. 

Rowan knew that dating Aelin would never be fully separate from their roommates, and even though he still needed to speak with Aedion he knew they would be supportive. He had just expected to make it through their first date before their roommates interfered. 

He rolled his shoulders back and gave Aelin’s fingers a gentle squeeze, hoping to convey his disappointment through his touch. Her returning squeeze reassured him she was more than alright with the turn their night had taken.  

He flashed her a soft smile before detangling their fingers and turning to face the group now assembled by the door.

“Someone get Fenrys, and quickly,” He instructed as he leaned into what the night had become. 

-- 

Aelin had not expected to spend her first date with Rowan jammed in between her cousin and Lorcan in a booth at some chain restaurant downtown. She had expected a romantic evening, where the two of them would have had a chance to talk and drink and laugh. She had been looking forward to spending time with Rowan, and getting to know him as truly more than just her roommate, more than her crush. 

She had been looking forward to watching him across from her, watching the way he talked and the expressions he made when he did. Rowan didn’t often get animated in a group, but around her he loosened his inhibitions, and she enjoyed watching him come alive. 

She could never take her eyes off the way his hands would gesticulate as he spoke about something he was passionate about in the brief moments where he did. Sometimes it was the bar, sometimes it was sports and other times there were topics she had never expected from him. It was easy to forget that he had studied law at university, he liked to keep his intelligence understated, but there were times when it was hard to miss.

Aelin was a little disappointed to have missed out on the opportunity to enjoy that side of Rowan, but she was comforted by the fact she knew they would get to reschedule, and by the knowledge she was still going home with him tonight either way. She was also determined to get her kiss afterwards, whether or not this had managed to qualify as a date or not. 

The small smiles he offered her over the table helped too. The smiles that said ‘we know something they don’t’ as their roommates chattered away around them. 

She pursed her lips around her straw at him as Fenrys jabbed a fork aggressively at Lorcan and Lysandra cackled. They’re clueless, not sure how much we can blame them. 

His own shake of his head as he bit back a laugh told her more than enough. I can blame those idiots as much as I want. 

Aelin forced herself to take another drink to cover her laugh. Rowan’s eyes were sparkling and there was a lightness to his shoulders as she took him in as he lay back in his chair between Fenrys and Lysandra.

The shirt and jumper combination had thrown her the moment she had swung her door open. Rowan didn’t often dress fancy, in fact the only time she could remember seeing him in something other than his usual uniform of a flannel and jeans was at the wedding a few months ago. 

The colour of his jumper over the top of his shirt did wonders for him, highlighting the tan of his skin and the brightness of his green eyes. Or maybe that was just Rowan. 

She couldn’t remember a time where she hadn’t taken the opportunity to just observe him. To observe the beauty in the line of his brow, the handsomeness in the cut of his jaw. Her mouth had dried as she had watched him and she lifted a hand to take yet another sip of her water. 

“Aelin?” Lysandra’s voice snapped her to attention. 

“Yes?” She asked after taking a large sip. 

“Was he as hot as Fenrys is making out?” It was only then she realised the attention of all those at the table was directed at her. 

Rowan was hot, but Aelin wasn’t convinced that was who Lysandra’s question was regarding. 

“Who?” Gods, she had been far too lost in Rowan to even attempt to follow the conversation at the table. 

“The doctor, from the other day?”

Lysandra’s final question had taken on a different edge to the others, her voice soft and an unusual look in her green eyes. Surprise, intrigue, and an element of… was that suspicion?

Aelin cleared her throat and dared to look across to Rowan. His expression was carefully guarded, hidden was the amusement they had shared only moments before as he watched her from across the table. 

He wasn’t the only one doing so. The others at the table, even Lorcan, had turned to her, each waiting for her response. 

“Um, yeah. I guess.” Aelin had little interest in discussing the supposed ‘hotness’ of the doctor from the other day. She wasn’t even sure she knew where the paper with his number on had ended up. 

“Damn, Aelin,” Aedion jeered. “Why’s he not here now then?”

Aelin flicked her eyes between Fenrys and Rowan. Fenrys was all too knowing. A twist at the corner of his mouth was the only visible hint of his discomfort, and she followed his gaze as it flicked to Rowan. 

He wore a deliberately careful and mild smile as he watched her, and she hoped her expression conveyed the level of dismissal she gave to the doctor. If not, she hoped her words would convey exactly how she felt. 

“I wasn’t interested,” She said plainly. “He was nice about it.”

“Not interested in a hot doctor?” Aedion scoffed. “At least go on a date, I can’t imagine how much luxury a doctor’s salary could get you. Probably at least champagne.”

Aelin laughed, a little weakly, desperately finding a way to change the subject. Rowan’s expression was a little less guarded, but she wanted him back to the amusement they had shared earlier. 

She nudged his foot under the table with her own, and was beyond grateful when he returned the gesture with a small smile. The twinkle in his eyes had returned, if only a little dimmed. 

Aelin sighed and allowed a slow smile to spread across her face. “If he’s so perfect Aedion, I might be able to set you up somehow.”

Her cousin only stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed, she heard the rest of the table laugh too. 

“Sorry, Lys,” She said with a grin and her friend only shrugged. 

“I know where I’m beaten.”

“Hey,” Aedion sounded offended at the thought and leaned across the table to press a kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek. Aelin smiled at the gesture and looked back to Rowan. 

Soon. 

Soon they’d finish dinner, and Aelin had plans for him. 

-- 

The walk home had likely been his favourite part of the evening. They had split off into subgroups for the short walk back to the loft, Aedion and Lysandra walked ahead, their linked hands swinging in the space between them. As much as Rowan had disliked his friend’s teasing at dinner he was happy for his friend, and it was clear to him that Aedion’s relationship was serious. More serious than Rowan had seen Aedion before. 

Lorcan and Fenrys had taken up the rear, debating something Rowan was deliberately tuning out as he enjoyed the feeling of Aelin tucked into his side. Her arm had wrapped around his own, her hand tucking into the crook of his elbow and her other hand reached across her body to hold the bicep of the arm she gripped. 

It felt delightful to have her there, and he didn’t care about the looks Fenrys was throwing him. He knew what he and Aelin looked like, and he didn’t care. It felt good. Felt good that Rowan was here with Aelin like this. Not the doctor. 

Rowan wasn’t petty enough to feel jealousy that the doctor the other day had given Aelin his number, or at least he thought. There was something in his stomach, the only thing that came close to bringing him out of this moment, that he couldn’t quite name. A feeling he couldn’t quite pin down. 

They reached the loft having walked in relative silence, but it hadn’t been an awkward journey. It had been relaxed, and satisfied, and easy with Aelin. 

They each went their separate ways once in the loft, and he led Aelin to the small stretch of hallway that housed both of their bedrooms. 

This was the moment he had been waiting for all night. 

She turned to him, releasing his arm as she bit her bottom lip slightly. Rowan couldn’t peel his eyes away until she finally spoke. 

“That wasn’t quite what I expected,” She said with a soft laugh. 

Rowan shook his head, laughing himself. “No, me neither. I will take you on a date properly soon, if you want to.”

He couldn’t stop himself from adding that last part. Aelin only tilted her head and took a step closer to him. She placed a hand gently on his chest as the smell of her surrounded Rowan. The fruity scent was enticing and he wanted to bury his face in her neck and breathe her in. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m still saying that tonight was our first date.” 

Aelin was even closer to him now as she spoke and he raised a hand from his side to rest gently at her waist. The fabric of her dress slid between his fingers and he pulled her into himself slightly. 

“Really?” He couldn’t help the tone of disbelief he used. 

He hadn’t had a bad night, far from it in fact. He enjoyed spending time with his roommates, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to have lived with them for so long if he didn’t, but Rowan wasn’t sure he would have pictured their group dinner as his and Aelin’s first date. 

“Yep,” She said, tilting her face up towards him and Rowan lifted his other hand to cup the back of her neck. His eyes were flickering up and down, an endless race between her eyes and her lips. “And I know what you promised me after our date.”

Rowan couldn’t help the wide smile he wore at her words. The realisation that she was as desperate as he was for their lips to touch again. 

“Oh yeah?” He asked, rearranging his hand to rest more comfortably against the back of her head, his fingers slipping between the thick strands of her golden hair. “And what was that?”

Aelin lightly pinched his shoulder but rose up onto her tiptoes to finally press her lips to his. 

Rowan could have sunk into this feeling forever. The spark that lit within him at her touch ignited, burning brightly as Aelin leaned even deeper into him, her lips opened in a soft gasp as her hand lifted from his shoulder to wrap around his neck. 

Rowan breathed her in as he tasted her on his tongue. Aelin was divine, sweet and addictive. He chased her, wanting more and more and more. Too much wasn’t enough. 

He only recognised that they had moved when the knuckles of his hand wrapped through her hair hit a solid surface. He had walked her backwards to the wall and at the realisation that he now boxed her in he drew back from her. 

His breaths came fast and his heart was pounding ferociously in his chest as he gazed down silently at her. Aelin’s eyes fluttered open slowly as a broad smile bloomed. 

Her cheeks were flushed from the kiss and Rowan risked one last press of his lips against her own. Unable to beat the urge to taste her again. 

What he had intended to be a brush of lips Aelin stole control of. She locked her arms around his neck and held him to her, parting her lips for him again. Rowan took and took, unable to fight the desire building deep inside of him. 

Aelin gasped against his lips as he removed his hand from her hair to hold her waist and lift her to him slightly. The sound sparked him, and he felt… He couldn't describe how he felt. He never wanted to stop, but Aelin’s gasp had reminded him where they stood. 

Rowan pressed her against the wall in the hallway of the loft they shared with the others. They stood so wrapped up in each other that if anyone stumbled upon them denial would be an impossibility.

Rowan went to step back but Aelin rose forward and pressed one last gentle brush of a kiss against his lips before leaning back on her heels and releasing her arms from around his shoulders. 

“Goodnight, Aelin,” He whispered, unable to muster anything more than a breathy whisper. 

Aelin seemed in the same state as him. Her pupils were blown wide and her lips were a dusty shade of just-kissed pink. Rowan wanted to kiss her again. 

“Night, Rowan,” She whispered, just as quietly as he had spoken. 

Rowan took a step back and smiled down at her as she smiled up at him. He slowly backed across the hallway until he stood in front of his own door, his hand braced on the handle.  

Aelin offered him a final, dreamlike smile before she slipped inside her bedroom. Rowan crept into his own and threw himself straight onto his bed. 

His mind was blissfully restful as he lay, staring at the ceiling, replaying every touch he and Aelin had shared. His mind ran over all the details of their night, from the smile she had worn when she opened the door to greet him, to the feeling of her arm wrapped around his. 

The unspoken words they had shared, wearing mutually knowing smiles, had warmed him and he fought off a smile at the thought. 

She had rejected the mention of the doctor, quite outright, which relieved him, but the feeling from before had crept back into his stomach. 

He still couldn’t place it, but as he lay, his thoughts came together, and he reached over to the side for his laptop. He sat himself up in bed, this wouldn’t take long, and typed a few words into the search bar of his browser. 

-- 

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen​​

@maybekindasortaace​​

@slytheringalathynius​​

@http-itsrebecca​​

@morganofthewildfire​​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​​

@fictional-horan​​

@tottenhamboys20

@dressedindustandshadows​​

@sleeping-and-books​​

@perseusannabeth​​

@ireallyshouldsleeprn​​

@superspiritfestival​​

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​​

@spyofthenightcourt​​

@jlinez​​

@queen-of-glass​​

@booknerdproblems​​

@sjmships​​

@elriel4life​​

@bamchickawowow​​

@woollycat22​​

@claralady​​

@illyrianwitchling​​

@SHINYA-HIIRAGI

@fangirlprincess09​​

@darlinminds​​​

@bookittothelibrary1​​ <- this came up as the url please let me know it its not right

@thenerdandfandoms​​​

@danibutterr​

@inthecityair​

[oneboxofmatches]

Hi!!! May I request a HP romantic and friendship matchup on both eras? (Preferably male), thanks in advance! 💞

𝗕𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗦 + 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘

19, Libra, Neutral Good, enneagram is 4w5, Ravenclaw, and my patronus spirit is swan. Bi Pan Genderfluid girl using pronouns of She/Her or He/Him. A friend of mine told me that I (kinda) look like Marinette from 𝗠𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆𝗯𝘂𝗴, Musa from 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘅 𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯, and Alexandra Trese from 𝗧𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲 (a Netflix animated series), but the exception is I'm short (5'1.2") plus sized Southeast Asian woman with Spanish descent that has messy/wavy brunette medium hair, chocolate brown eyes, oriental skin and a small beauty mark on the forehead. My sense of fashion is in between emo and boyish plus korean glam.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬

Distant and shy at first cause' I dunno how to initiate a conversation, but a total opposite if I open up---friendly, ambivert, witty, laughing loudly on a daily basis, talkative, awkward, daydreamer (I got embarrassed from knocking at the door even I'm inside the classroom 😂), EXTREMELY clumsy, secretly likes affection, easily overwhelmed, prone to melt over any wholesomeness, flusters on compliments, lightly blushes on cheesy banters, sarcastic person with a lowkey crackhead energy citing meme references, and talented girl who can be your no. 1 supporter and unashamed to be true to myself. In terms of leadership, I only educate and guide than being a prefect (I might take the role seriously), and will lift my group when there's lacking/incompleteness. About doing projects in school, I become too extra and prepared for efforts, but I'll forget the process in the end.

People thought I'm a demure self-effacing woman that looks "idealistic" or "one of a kind," (due to my protective parents, a reason why I've never been in a relationship) but the truth is, I'm eloquent, warm-hearted, willig to help, kind, intelligent, supportive, nice, creative, enthusiastic, determined, tough, competitive, and feisty outside, but a real softie that can be childish and dramatic crybaby filled with doubts, frustrations, and insecurities with fear of failure that pushes off the limits to to please everyone, yet I still managed to be stronger than ever, even it's a slow burn process. I can be intimidating, sassy, and a douchebag if I receive ends. Immature, headstrong, perfectionist, demanding, hesitant, jumpy, very indecisive, overthinker, quick-tempered, sensitive, and anxious (no joke, my nervousness makes me think worse scenario will arrive or I might break a belonging due to my carelessness). Though can be procrastinator and arrogant, I raised as a religious 𝖺𝗇𝖽 diplomatic person, willing to fight what I believe (including my dreams) 𝖺𝗇𝖽 what is right. In addition, I have a habit of staying up late and doing sign of the cross to ease nervousness.

Blunt but the loudest idiotic feeling-brokenhearted and bitter friend in the group who fangirl a lot, swears like sailor, will act like a silent backstabber on people that we loathe, will crack up over your stupid antics before helping, and bring gossips, but a hopeless romantic who tends to banter with sarcasms or pick up lines as an endearment (but gets grumpy if I received sappy or offensive one), still generous and concerned in a subtle way.

𝗛𝗢𝗕𝗕𝗜𝗘𝗦

My hobbies are singing, drawing, roleplaying, listening to music, chatting/browsing on social media, conceptualizing, writing, and reading some stuffs. 𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾 making corniest jokes/puns, 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀, and dancing when nobody's around or walking like a model if I feel so bold (even I'm terrible at both xD).

𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦

Loves kittens, eating a lot, cartoons, watching YouTube videos (mostly pageants, ASMR, edit audios, and mukbangs), also enjoys playing games on my sister's PSP. Sucker for arts, choir, night sky, makeup, fun/deep/dumb conversations, Christianity, documentaries (about saints, real crime stories, and inspirational people), reading interesting stuffs, talking about social issues, and writings, chilling both indoors and outdoors. Beside that, my music taste are like late 90s-2000s songs (mostly rock, pop, and country) sometimes kpop and ppop, chocoholic, and a sweetooth as well.

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦

Things that I hate are stereotyping, HUGE creepy crawlies (spiders, toads, snakes, and cockroaches), firecracker sounds, being left out, loneliness, heart break, blackout, and judgemental people. One random fact about me is, I 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 vent out EVERYTHING I despise in my entire existence---from bad soap operas to toxicity and worse scenarios in real life, because it's a big deal for me, and I consider forcing me to do what I'm not into and manipulating me as my major pet peeves.

𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗦

In terms of triggers...I only have two which are ta𝖨king about divorce/annullment/separation because I came from a generational broken family and religion/beliefs discrimination, cause' there are reasonings that doesn't makes sense because some are too hypocritical.

𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗩𝗜𝗔

My best assets are smile, eyes, personality, singing voice, artistic skills, writings, intelligence, and oratorical skills...so I can consider myself as a singer, artist, orator, and a top student who's a former active campus ministry member with three roles (choir leader, psalm singer, and reader). Currently an incoming college freshman, learning how to cook and have so many interests, to the point I don't know what I'm into because of my dreams to become a popular Filipino YouTuber, a novelist, and being part of a successful chorale competing internationally...I also consider joining pageants at school too once the pandemic ends, but maybe.

Thank you so, so much for requesting! I had a lot of fun with this one (as you can tell by some of the really long answers lol) and I hope you enjoy!!

In the Golden Trio era, I romantically pair you with…

CEDRIC DIGGORY

One of the most beautiful things about Cedric is that although he may show some introverted tendencies, he still manages to have a natural gift for connecting to others and allowing them to feel comfortable enough to open up. Really, your initial distance and shyness don't last nearly as long towards Cedric as they would with most other people.

Hearing your laughter brings the widest, cheesiest grin to Cedric’s face. Not only does he adore seeing you happy, but he also recognizes that your anxiety, insecurities, and strong emotions can sometimes cloud up your demeanor. Therefore, it brings him comfort knowing that (for the moment) you’re finding joy. He thrives when you thrive!

However, as much as he loves seeing your more energetic and happier self, it goes without saying that he’s the best comfort for when you’re not having the best day.

Cedric is an excellent listener, so he’ll most likely let you talk without interruption for as long as you need before even saying a word. He wants to make sure he truly understands your current state before acting. He may take a few seconds to process everything after you finish speaking, but then he’ll help you tackle whatever problems you’re facing. He’s especially talented at giving words of affirmation.

Cedric’s listening also comes in handy whenever you talk about your interests! He genuinely loves hearing about the things you’re interested in solely for the fact that you’re interested in them. Side note: you can count on him to be at any music performances, pageants, etc. you may have -- this guy is truly your #1 supporter.

Cedric’s a very good student (though I suspect he’s somewhat of a procrastinator himself), so I can also see you two supporting each other through schoolwork and celebrating each other’s successes.

Like you, Cedric has a strong urge to do the right thing. Talking to him about social issues stirs up a need to help, and I could see you two doing volunteer work together in your spare time.

I like to believe one of Cedric’s biggest love languages is quality time. Don’t get me wrong, this guy loves staying involved and busy. But taking a couple hours to be with you in small ways (even if that means just being in the same room while you scroll through social media) gives him a nice balance.

Overall, this kind boy will be there unwaveringly through the bad times and will laugh just as loud as you through the good!

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

LUNA LOVEGOOD

You wanna talk about the best conversations, relentless support, and overall the most wholesome friendship you could ask for? Luna’s your girl.

Being unashamed to be true to yourself is one of the biggest reasons why Luna is so drawn to you. While she’s very friendly and insightful towards everyone she meets, it can get a bit repetitive for her to constantly interact with people who try to shelter their unique characteristics from the world. In her mind, these unique characteristics are what make people so fascinating! Why should anyone hide who they are?

Luna’s creativity is endless, and I can see it blending well with yours. Collaborating on a personal project outside of school (ex: novel, blog, etc.) together is definitely something I could see you two doing.

Speaking of creativity, finding creative solutions to everyday problems (both in school and in life) is your specialty as friends.

Admittedly, Luna isn’t usually drawn to louder individuals. However, the complexity behind your personality makes it easier for her to know you are much more than what meets the eye.

Speaking of, Luna has a difficult time standing up for herself -- whether it’s because she doesn’t feel a need to or she just doesn’t recognize the meaning behind certain phrases. She NEEDS a friend like you to stand up for her sometimes, and I know you wouldn’t hesitate!

Ranting to Luna is therapeutic to say the least. While her aloofness at times may make it seem as if she isn’t fully paying attention, that couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s actually catching every word, and once you’re done she’ll leave you with a philosophical solution that may seem borderline insane/irrelevant when you first hear it, but it strangely makes sense.

Overall, the lack of judgment from either of you is what draws you together. As a result, you build a unique bond that couldn’t be broken even if either of you wanted it to.

In the Marauders era, I romantically pair you with…

REMUS LUPIN

Let’s be honest, it would take you two so long to ask each other out. You were probably already really close friends, but the insecurities and “what if?” questions from both of you delayed an actual relationship.

When you finally started dating, you were both so relieved. You still share a laugh at how almost nothing changed in the way you interacted with each other.

While with mutual friends, Remus sometimes likes to sit back and just watch you, especially when you get really talkative because this is when you become the most expressive. He has the softest smile when you’re actively cracking jokes, discussing something you’re passionate about, or even calling someone out. Sometimes you may be too distracted to notice, but other times you’ll catch him.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” (While that same soft smile never leaves his face.)

You both hold really high standards for yourself in terms of school, so expect late-night study/work sessions to be your best bet for quality time.

Though the occasional instance of walking through/lying on the grounds becomes a favorite for both of you.

Remus listens when you’re particularly struggling through anxiety or strong emotions, but he has to consciously stop himself from interrupting because he can’t stand how he feels knowing you’re going through a tough time.

All he wants to do is soothe you during these moments. If you’re comfortable, he’ll hold you while speaking to you in a soft voice. Remus, the intellectual that he is, is also your best chance at finding a reasonable solution. So if you're not in the mood for calming words, he's also a great person to turn to for answers.

As for your ambitions, no matter what you choose to pursue, you already know Remus is going to be your biggest source of support every step of the way. He’s more than happy to help in any way he can!

Overall, Remus appreciates you, and he’s always going to make sure you know it.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

LILY EVANS

Lily especially connects to you because you manage to be determined, competitive, and intelligent without sacrificing your kindness, which is something she can relate to.

You and Lily are the C.E.O.s of doing the right thing. Neither of you hesitates to back the other up when it comes to confronting someone because you know it’s justified.

As perceptive as Lily is, you never need to tell her when something is bothering you. All it takes is a quick glance before she puts whatever she’s doing on hold to check in with you.

The reverse works as well. Typically, Lily really doesn’t internally struggle too much, and when she does she tries to hide it. You’re one of the only people who can see right through whatever she tries to pull.

The constant banter between you two is unmatched, but you both know it's because you really care about each other.

Overall, you and Lily have each other’s backs through anything, even when the other isn’t actively asking for help.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 47

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Argus was beautiful. The Mistrali architecture blended and contrasted nicely with that of its Atlesian half. We rode a tram through the city streets and felt the quiet security of the place. There was a humble peace here, one the Black-Out day panic hadn't touched.

I sighed.

It was nice. The environment was relaxing.

Especially after the train ride had turned stressful for me.

My Jaune's semblance was like Blake's Adam's. That meant something. They were similar. They had to be. That's how semblances worked. They were about the soul and that meant Jaune's soul, his very essence, was like Adam's.

That was scary. I'd heard of Adam by now and seen the harm he brought my sister. He'd planned to bomb Haven. He'd set the Grimm loose at Beacon.

Jaune had once described using the Grimm as a weapon as a genius move. Was the difference between him and Adam smaller than I thought? The way Blake told it, it was possible. It was possible enough to make me doubt my own memory of things.

Like when Jaune had killed for the first time. A beat of blue light and the other man fell into two halves. Or even the second time, too. He was drenched in blood. He'd been so casual about it, he was even joking around a little. It made me wonder if it was the second time or just the second time I knew about.  

However, Blake's Adam was an obsessive creature, that was the portrait she painted of him, and maybe Jaune was too, but obsessive was the polar opposite of traitorous. It didn't match up. If Jaune was like Adam, he should have been killing for our cause, not turning on us. That's what didn't add up about it. It's why even with Blake's story I was willing to stick to my guns, so to speak.

And Jaune was obsessive.

He was crazy about Cinder and getting his revenge. The only thing that held him back from jumping her at Haven was me and his similar obsession for me.  

Salem did something to Jaune. She must have. It was the only way Blake's story lined up. It was the only way Jaune's personality matched his actions. No matter what he was offered he would have said ‘no.’ He would never turn on us intentionally. Something else must be at work.

I brushed my hair back and rubbed the smooth handle of Crescent Rose. I listened to our cart troll along, bumping against the smooth road.

Jaune was out there. He was waiting for me to save him. There was nothing in this world to stop me from worrying about him. He was somewhere, maybe bringing the relic to Salem. Soon he'd be even further in her clutches and here I was going away more and more.

I missed the sound of his voice, the deep baritone. I missed his arms around me. I missed his plans, his mind. I missed his aura, a comfort that nothing else could replicate and replace. Nothing else delivered on that.

We moved towards the military base, a distant part of the city. A reminder of Atlas's strength but far enough away to keep it out of the denizen's minds. They didn't need to be reminded constantly about war and the power of the gunships. Just the occasional touch would do to secure the place mentally.

We approached the gates to the place. Two guards in Atlesian drab met us at the entrance through the bars.

"Hey we need to secure passage to Atlas." I began. "Can you help us?"

"I know Ironwood, we work together."

"Impossible. Besides-"

"The borders are closed," one guard continued.

"No one in or out of Atlas."

"Come on, you didn't even hear us out." Yang shook the bars.

"Our orders are clear."

"The Mistral-Atlas borders are closed."

"Please have a good day."

"But-" Yang began.

"A good day," They said in unison.

"Hey if you don't want to believe that I'm friends with Ironwood-"

"-General Ironwood."

"Right. General Ironwood." Qrow continued. "But look we've got Weiss Schnee with us and we're trying to get her home safely."

They cocked their heads and said together. "Approach."

Weiss gave us all a helpless look. Blake managed an encouraging nod.

They examined Weiss for a long pause. Making sure she was indeed Weiss, probably. She was Weiss so they leaned back and shared a glance.

"Very well-"

"-You may speak with our commanding officer."

"We will fetch her at once."

They marched away in synchronization. With a "Hup-hup-hup-hup-" never let it be said that they didn't take their jobs seriously.

"They were kind of-" Blake began.

"Super weird?" I finished. "Uh-yeah."

"Keep it together. This may be our best shot at getting into Atlas."

"Ms. Schnee, you remember the code phrase you're supposed to give James when you see him?" Ozpin asked.

Weiss nodded.

"Very good. Qrow is correct. You stand the best chance of passing a message along to him. It is likely the rest of us will have to remain here. We will see about finding lodging after meeting with this officer."

"Introducing-" we tried back to the young men working the gate. "Special Operative Caroline Cordovin!"

They stood aside to reveal a short elderly woman with a metallic glint in her eye.

"Hello Operative Cordovin. I'm Weiss Schnee." Weiss gave a little curtsey as she introduced herself.

"Indeed? I've seen the special report informing us to keep an eye out for you. Plus you look ever so much like your sister. We're both Special Operatives so I know her."

"Is that so…" Weiss trailed. "It is imperative that I speak with General Ironwood and secure passage for myself and my companions into Atlas."

"If I may ask, why must you speak to the general?"

"I have a special message for him. His ears only."

"I see… well I'd be happy to secure your transit into Atlas. I've even been ordered to do so given the opportunity but I have no orders for anyone else. I'm afraid your companions will have to stay here until I receive directions to the contrary."

"Very well. If I could just speak to Ironwood I'm sure that he would allow them special passage."

"Unfortunately communication between here and Atlas is limited. He trusts me to run things as I see fit." She looked over the back of her fingernails as she humble-bragged.

"Just me, then. How soon can you have an airship ready?"

Caroline nodded to her men and they opened the gate for Weiss. They closed it behind her and I watched her go on, alone. My heart ached for her but we knew it might come to this. It would be fine. Just for a few days.

I was still worried about her. I knew how much she would hate being alone but she was a big girl. She could tough it out. Besides, the fate of the world was at stake. I'd see her again.

"Well that's settled," I said. "For now at least."

"Come on kids, let's find a place to spend the night." My uncle turned on mechanical legs and strode down the street.

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We marched through the city, searching for an inn we could stay the night at. We rounded a corner and that's when they jumped us.

They came down off the roof in unbelievable unity. Three girls, in masks and balckware came out of the night.

I spun Crescent Rose into it's full form before me. Just in time to block the slash of a knife in my directions. She backed away and fired a gun at me twice. Dagger and gun, she somersaulted through the air at me. She fired the pistol in my face and lashed out with the knife at the last second.

"Where's the relic?" She demanded. Her voice was soft and urgent. She couldn't have been much older than me. She was probably a shade younger, in fact. That or she was incredibly lithe. I struck out at her with Crescent Rose but she-she sort of ate the attack against her body. Her aura flashed with red and blue flames. She grunted with it, a sort of moan.

I fired a shot into her body and she rolled with it. Purple aura flaring over the site of the attack.

She lashed out at me with her knife, trying to slash me. She did a rolling side-flip with it, bringing it around her body and trying to cut me. She tried to breach my range but I disappeared and reappeared a few steps back.

They attacked all of us together. One had a sword with two parallel blades. The last had a set of gauntlets with knives attached to the tips.

They were fast, strong, and skilled, flipping over us and taking us by surprise. My uncle rotated his weapon into play and clashed with the sword user who flipped between him and Oscar. The last engaged Blake and Yang simultaneously.

They all had blonde hair tied up and their masks revealed blue eyes like crystal.

It all seemed incredibly familiar.

I lashed out again and she ate my attack with her aura once more. The blue and red flames wreathed her and burnt at me. It made me take a step back and yelp with pain.

She sort of floated in place as she took two shots at me with her pistol. Her other hand coming up to stabilize with the knife underneath.

She lashed out with the knife as she got closer and I had to say she was good at getting into my guard with her narrow flips and small attacks.

She came up to me and did a sort of kick flip right in my face that nearly connected with my chin. She jumped and kicked at me again with her narrow feet and forced me backwards away from the lashing limbs.

I hit her with the back end of Crescent Rose, knocking her to the asphalt, but she just jumped back to her feet. She jabbed at me two times with her knife, ultra fast, and shot at me again.

I slashed, twirling Crescent Rose at her and bringing my body with it in a whirlwind of attacks. She flipped end over end away from me and I realized she was trying to draw me away from my friends and I held firm. I took a few potshots at her but was careful shooting in the middle of a city. A missed shot could kill a bystander easily.

But then a ghostly specter of red and blue appeared around her body. It lashed out in time with her kicks against me, increasing the force and bashing me back. It had strength beyond her small body. It flared blue and red around her. It didn't seem to keep her safe from harm.

She flipped at me, knife in hand and a crescent of red followed it as the specter which hovered over her, lashed out, overlapping her attack with it's own claws. Instead the monstrous ghost was augmenting her attacks. It was nearly eight feet tall and was a menace of red and blue light.

The girl with the sword flared purple with soft lightning as well and her speed seemed to increase as she flipped through the air, lashing out against Oscar with her blade before leaping back to deal my uncle a blow. She twirled in the air with grace.

She caught Oscar's cane between the blades of her sword. She swung it away and Oscar's cane went clattering down the street. The girl with the sword jumped and slammed both feet into Qrow's chest and knocked him to his knees. He was still unsteady on his new legs.

Blake and Yang seemed to have the situation under control the most. They dealt their attacker a rapid team attack that slammed her against a brick wall. Yang's fists were bared and at the ready. Blake vanished into shadow and let Yang hit through where she used to be to knock her against the wall again.

Yang lashed out with her fist and the girl only narrowly ducked under it. Blake slashed at where she was going and caught the girl on the side. It knocked her to the ground.

Blake tossed Yang the ribbon of Gambol Shroud and together they clotheslined the girl.

The lead girl jumped and lashed out at me with her legs and the hovering ghost attacked in time with her. Increasing her strength immensely. Hovering behind her and beating against my defenses in perfect time with the girl in front of me, the specter was hard to keep track of and I swept my blade through it and it did nothing.

"Where is the relic!?"

"We don't have the relic!" I shouted. She knocked me off my feet and down to the ground. The disembodied pressure of the specter floating behind her disappeared as she went to help her fallen compatriot.

"Blake look out!" I called.

The girl I'd been fighting dealt her a staggering blow with the spirit in tow. It must have been her semblance, that glowing specter that reinforced her attacks.

She rocked Blake back and slammed her against a wall.

"They don't have it on them, sister." The girl with the fisticuffs said as she was pulled to her feet by the girl with the dagger and gun. "The relic isn't here."

The girl with the dagger and gun growled. She took shots at us while they backed off. Using team attacks and surprising maneuverability to cover one another as they made their way back to the roof tops. They hopped off the walls of one building like ninjas and made their way to the top.

The girl with the dagger and gun stretched a hand down and hauled the girl with the double sword over and onto the roof. Then, as quickly as they appeared, they were gone.

I rushed over to Qrow and Oscar.

"Are you two alright?"

"We're fine. Who were those girls?" Qrow breathed.

"I don't know."

"They looked a little familiar, though." Blake said, she held her hands on her thighs and panted.

"They were looking for the relic." Oscar said. "She kept asking us where it was, over and over again."

"Do you think they worked for Salem?" Yang asked.

"I've never seen or heard of agents who match their description before." Oscar said in an Ozpin like voice. "But it is possible. Perhaps even likely."

The police arrived to the sound of gunshots and we gave them our story. How we were attacked and the real culprits escaped into the night. We spent the evening down at the police station repeating our story over and over again to the local authorities.

"What did they mean by 'relic?'" I was asked by a local cop.

I had to tell him I had no idea. I hated lying like that but what choice did I have?

"They weren't making any sense, officers," Yang said. "They sounded hysterical."

"And what are you trying to do in town?"

"We delivered Weiss Schnee to the Argus military base. Maybe that's what all this is about." I lied.

"If I call up Caroline Cordovin will she corroborate that story?"

"She should. She took Weiss from us. I have no idea why she wouldn't." Qrow muttered.

"And where are you ladies and gents staying in town, in case we have more questions and need to get ahold of you?"

"We're not staying anywhere yet. We were looking for a place when we were attacked." Blake explained. It felt like she was saying that for the dozenth time.

"Why don't you give me your scroll numbers? Then we'll let you go on free."

We handed over our numbers and were let out into the very late night.

"Aw man, we're never going to find a place to stay now." I said.

"We should just be glad everyone made it out of that fight okay." Blake murmured. "It was a good thing they were so focused on the relic. They operated like a strike squad. In and out with a non-combat objective."

"But that doesn't make any sense. Why would Salem be trying to take the relic from us. She should know we don't have it." Yang said.

"Unless she doesn't," I said.

"What's that mean?" Yang asked.

"I'm not sure. But it should be a good thing. It means she doesn't know where the relic is."

"You mean she doesn't know where Jaune is? How could she not?" Blake asked.

"It is curious." Oscar or maybe Ozpin put his hands on his cane and leaned on it. "Enemy disorientation is a good thing. I should like to capitalize on it but I'm unsure how. We are missing many details that would set this all straight."

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-WG

[captainrexisboo]

Dumb Luck #3

Note: Heyoooooo two updates in one weekend, whaaaaat? No, actually a fun fact, this was started out as my part 2, but i liked my other idea of building the tension with Sweets seeing Rex with his helmet off for the first time better. There will be a part four, it just wont come as quick! I’m gonna have several more parts to this, I have plans y’all. This chapter has ~slight angst~ if you squint hard enough. Again, I’m open to criticism or Hot Takes TM, I’m still a novice writer! Both my asks and messages are open to everyone! Also... y’all, Jesse is a bro. He’s great.

a link to part two- https://captianrexisboo.tumblr.com/post/623995723815452672/dumb-luck-2

Warnings: suggestive language (the usual)

Tags: @persaloodles @starflyer-104 @imalovernotahater @holamor @000ayfh

~

“Hey, Sweets-“

“Not now, busy,” she threw over her shoulder, not even bothering to look at who was walking up to her corner of the hangar.

Y/N was greatly enjoying herself as an assistant to the head mechanic aboard the flagship. She quickly learned about not only the venator-class destroyer, but also about gunships, shuttles, frigates, landers, even more about her beloved droids, and her absolute favorite to work on, the starfighters. If she were alone in the hangars, she would walk over to the rows of starfighters and just study them, marvelling at every screw, panel, and wire and how it built something so amazing. And right now, she was actually able to work on one of these beautiful machines, and she’d be damned if she let anyone stop her workflow.

Rex lifted a brow at her mannerisms as he watched her dive elbow deep into a much older fighter model, one that hadn’t ever been repainted and typically was the last to be boarded and flown out by shinies who didn’t know any better. She was squatting low to the ground, a panel gone from the ship while she tinkered with its insides, hair barely secure, strands falling out of the haphazardly tied bun she had kept in place with only a single stylus. He was still conflicted at her presence on the ship. She had proven to be smart, quick witted, and of course was an absolute stunner, but she was also stubborn as hell, distracting, and always there. Always a mere moment away, in the hangar, in the generator room, in the mess, the repair bay, the armory- and he hasn’t known peace since.

Let’s be honest, he hasn’t known peace since he met General Skywalker, but he was able to have an illusion of what it was like whenever he was alone with his thoughts. Now he didn’t even have that, his internal narrative shaping into her curves before too long, even in his solitude. Things were different with her here, they were more on edge, like he was tiptoeing around her in a delicate dance to avoid a situation where either of them could build onto their practically visible tension. Kix had told him, ever the blunt medic, that he could cut their tension straight through the air with a scalpel it was so obvious. But he was a Captain, and had a job to do, so when he heard that she had been seen speeding down the halls to the hangars with her tools despite all the ships passing inspection just a few hours ago, he knew he had to be sure she wasn’t doing anything out of protocol. He had grabbed Jesse before making his way to the hangar, in case a mediator was needed, and was now grinding his teeth at the woman concentrating so intensely she didn’t even care to look who else was in the room. He shared a flat look with Jesse before clearing his throat to make his presence known, “You might want to take a break, Y/N.”

She paused what she was doing, her shoulders tightening. Only Rex ever used her actual name, especially when he was in one of his damn moods. This was weird, though, him seeking her out. Recently it seemed as if he had been avoiding her, or making sure they weren’t alone if they had to be in the same room. Try as she could to get his attention, get him all flustered, he’d always just be slightly out of reach, and she was getting increasingly frustrated. She rolled her eyes, summoning her signature bravado before she smoothly stood up to turn around, jutting a hip out and giving a lazy salute, “Ahoy, Captain.”

Jesse tried to mask his giggles under a cough, watching the two interact was his favorite pastime. Rex took note for later to ask a different intermediary for the next strife, before pointing his head to the ship, “What are you doing to that fighter?”

“Exactly what it looks like,” she smiled brightly, almost prideful, wiping her grease slicked hands on the pant leg of her GAR jumpsuit, “Messing with this lovely hunk of junk.”

“Messing with it?” Rex questioned, barely hiding his glance at the handprint now crudely placed on her thigh.

“Gave myself a project to work on,” she explained sauntering towards the pair of troopers with an arm outstretched to the ship, “Boys, meet my baby.”

“Your baby?” Rex slowly tore his gaze off her to look over the fighter blandly, “What a miracle of science.”

“Is Artoo the dad?” Jesse snickered, before receiving a light smack on the arm from the woman. She still chuckled at the quip, showing good humor to him. Despite being absolutely infuriating, Jesse was quickly becoming a good friend to her, like a brother she never wanted.

“Did you get permission before completely gutting the engine, at least?” Rex asked, looking around at the parts that lay on the floor, surrounding her workspace.

She sighed, “Yes, I did, just a bit ago. Ask Caine, he was the final sign off on it. Went through all the proper channels.”

Rex's jaw twitched, stiffening the hand holding his helmet, “It didn’t come through on my end.”

“Maybe it didn’t need to,” she shot, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms, “I’m sure there are some things on this ship that don’t require your approval, sir.”

There it is. The way she said that word got him all riled up. It was one little word, one he got called by from every trooper on every hour of every rotation, but it was her honey-coated voice saying it that drove him to his limit. Every time she spoke the word to him it was like a challenge, daring him to expose his desirous aggression toward her, taunting his mask of composure. Every time she spoke, with a demanding storm in her glare and candy pink lips being teasingly assaulted by her own teeth, it stirred a fire in him he didn’t quite know how to quell. It was maddening, and got worse and burned deeper with every encounter. Before he could dig himself deeper into her trap, he simply pulled on his helmet with a slight growl, and turned on his heel to stalk away from the conversation, barely grumbling out a gruff, “I’m going to talk to Caine.”

“What crawled up his ass and died?” Y/N felt herself wilt a bit as she watched him go, taken aback by the retreat, and admittedly a little disappointed. Usually he’d last longer.

Jesse let out a stale bark of laughter, “Same thing that crawled up yours.”

“Jesse,” she warned, cold eyes coming up to focus on him, drawing out his name as she placed her hands on her hips.

“Sweets,” he mimicked her tone and stance, chuckling low, “Why don’t you just go after him? He’s all pent-up and frustrated, I don’t think the troops can take another feral sparring session. Hell, I don’t think I can take it. Think of the poor shinies.”

She shrugged at him, rolling her eyes as her head lolled to the side, “What can I say, I’m a self-destructive mess that likes to delay my own happiness and ultimate satisfaction.”

“Bantha shit,” Jesse rolled his own amber-hazel eyes at her, “I think you're just a brat.”

She laughed lowly, batting her lashes at him, “Same thing, trooper.”

She turned around, intent on continuing her work before she felt a gloved hand wrap itself around her elbow, turning her back to face the ARC, “I’m serious. Why are you dragging this out, adding to the pressure? If you keep this up, one of you will explode before too long, and then- whether it’s a good explosion, or a bad one- there’s gonna be one hell of a mess to clean up in its wake.”

She lifted a brow at his wording, “Was that innuendo literal, or-”

“Ew,” Jesse blanched, letting go of her arm and scrunching his face at the mental image., “That’s my ori’vod!”

Y/N threw her hands up in a mock surrender with a devilish smirk on her lips, “Look, you’re the one who said it.”

“Just answer the question, maker!”

She was silent for a minute, pursing her lips as she gathered her thoughts together. Jesse was staring intently at her, crossing his arms as he waited for her. Her eyes narrowed into thin slits in her focused state, and she exhaled slowly through her mouth, “I...I don’t know if he actually likes me or not. Sure, we banter, and I flirt, but I don’t know if he legitimately thinks of me the same way. I mean, today he just walked away from our conversation, and it made me feel kind of dejected. He seemed...I don’t know. Exasperated. Like he’s tired of me.”

Jesse had never seen her so vulnerable, so small. Sure, she was easily more than a head shorter than them, but her confidence and charisma always made her seem like she was eight feet tall. She twirled a lock of stray hair around her fingers, looking anywhere but Jesse as she continued, “His responses always vary, so I can’t pin down his exact feelings! He can either be cold and dismissive like today, or he can be actively matching my turn of phrase, there's no in between. So I always just...well, I tease him, you’ve seen it. I’m just testing the waters, seeing if he’s interested.”

“Sweets-“ Jesse cut himself off as he let a heavy hand fall onto her lithe shoulder, “Y/N, look at me.”

At the sound of her name, she blinked up at him, biting her lip to keep from pouting. Jesse was about to continue, barely opening his mouth to begin, when there was a greeting from behind them.

“There she is, right where you left her, Captain!”

Rex had come back, face unreadable as he looked between Jesse and Y/N. An older, brown man walked next to him, tall and lean with a salt and pepper fade, his smile as wide as his stride, “Sweets, lass! Making headway on that pile of scrap, huh?”

“Yes sir, Caine,” she greeted, standing upright and saluting him properly before turning offhandedly to Rex and crossing her arms, “Captain.”

Rex felt his jaw twitch at the sudden chill coming off of her, his brow furrowing at the sudden switch in her demeanor. Caine continued waving his arms, animatedly gesturing to the fighter, “This ship will run better than the day it was bought when you’re through with it, I know it. But, our most thorough Captain here has made it known to me that we did skip a step in approving your request.”

She looked Rex up and down, crossed arms tightening over her ribcage, “Oh really? And what step would that be?”

“Admiral Wulff Yularen,” Rex answered, tone even and cool to match her own, “You’re right in that it wouldn’t pass over my desk, however these are still Republic owned ships. He needs to approve...whatever you’re doing before you continue.”

She bit her lip and tightly squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deep through her nose, before responding, “Fine. I’ll clean up my station. Is there a time I can meet with the Admiral to discuss my mistake?”

Rex began to respond, before Jesse stepped in, “I’ll go explain the situation to him. Caine, would you mind tagging along?”

“Let’s stop by my office to get her approval request forms. Anything that makes this take longer, it gets me away from the repair reports,” Caine guffawed as he walked away with Jesse, leaving the Captain and mechanic on their own. He shifted as her burning stare held onto him for an extended moment after the two had left.

“What?” he growled out, growing aggravated at the silent attitude she was giving him.

“You’re a fucking tattle tale,” she spat out before turning on her heel to begin picking up her tools and various discarded parts of the fighter, “Going to my boss because a form didn’t come your way.”

“What are you, a youngling?” he shot back, but striding over to help her out, “I’m doing you a favor! If Admiral Yularen had found out one of his ships had been tampered with, without his permission, he’d blacklist you from the GAR and put you in a ship to drop you on that same dirt ball we found you on.”

Admiral Yularen was much more empathetic than that, and would not go as far as that for a punishment. But she didn’t need to know that right now.

“I’m not tampering with it- don’t touch my tools,” she looked over to see him dropping her wrenches and welders unceremoniously into her box, “I’m not tampering, I’m fixing. I’m a mechanic, it’s what I kriffin do, I’m sure he’d understand.”

He continued to pick up her scattered tools as she turned back to the disorganized pieces of metal with a roll of his eyes, “That may be so, but the GAR has a very strict way of doing things, and unfortunately the line of command doesn’t just stop at Caine for you. In fact-“

“I said don’t touch my tools!”

“Y/N, I’m trying to help you!” he nearly yelled at her, his voice booming in the high ceilings of the hangar, “Anything I’ve done today, is to help you!”

She scoffed, unmoved by his commanding demeanor, “Sure, help me. You didn’t even want me on this ship to begin with!”

“That’s-“

“You still don’t like me, do you? Is that why you don’t respond to my advances?” she was stalking toward him now, her mess and tools pushed to the farthest corner of her mind until they got this discussion over with. He stood his ground as she got closer, standing at his full height but looking her directly in the eyes nonetheless.

“Y/N-“

“I flirt and tease you all damn day and you just ignore me! Or worse, you respond and then leave when you realize you might’ve reacted a little too positively. I’d at least like a solid no from you, make yourself clear, please!”

“Hey!” he laid two strong hands on her shoulders, giving her a slight squeeze, “Shut. Up.”

She glared at him, but complied, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth as she stood defiantly to him, as tall as she could under his grip. He allowed himself a slow breath, inhale through his nose, hold, exhale through his mouth. He softened his hold, and let his deep honey eyes search her stormy glare, delving into the depths of her soul to make sure she understood, “I think I like you, Y/N. More than I ought to.”

He let that sink in, his cheeks flushing at his own sudden boldness but keeping a lock on her gaze. She raised her brows in surprise, eyes going wide as her agitation subsided, being replaced with something more delicate before sputtering out, “Oh. Okay. Uh, great. So...why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

He let out a dark chuckle, letting his eyelids get heavy, “Always one for tact.”

She shrugged under his grasp, a slight grin gracing her features at his amused expression, “Would you expect anything less?”

He shook his head, letting his lips twitch upwards as his thumbs absentmindedly rubbed circles into her shoulders, before clearing his throat, “If you had let me finish earlier, your chain of command doesn’t stop at Caine. It includes Yularen, Skywalker, and me. If I’m seen to be ‘romantically involved’ with a crewmember, I could be court martialed. And then you’d be-“

“Sent back to that rock you picked me up from,” she finished for him, letting a hand come up to rub gently at his right wrist, before sighing, “Maker, I hate it when you’re right.”

“It’s a miracle you still like me, then,” he let a cheeky smile pull through his face, causing her to let out a soft giggle. Somewhere between their dispute and his confession, his voice had shifted to a low, coarse whisper that made her want to hang onto every word. He let a hand off her shoulder, gripping her chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger, “Do you understand, cyar’ika?”

Her breath was stolen from her as she watched his eyes glance down to her lips, his thumb gently pulling at her skin to have her bottom lip pop out of it’s sharp hold. She shuddered, a pleasant quiver going down her spine as she nodded at him. She fluttered her lashes at him as he chuckled low at her response, “What does that mean?”

“Promise not to get mad?” he smirked at her, as a matching blush sweeping over both their cheeks.

“Rex,” she quirked a brow at him playfully, drawling out his name almost musically. He smiled wide at her, practically spellbound with how his name sounded on her lips.

“It’s Mando’a,” he paused for effect, looking around to make sure no out of place soldiers were looking over before dipping low, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “for sweetheart.”

She laughed, the sound warm and full, splaying a hand over his armored heart, the plastoid cool underneath her palm, “Fine. But only you are allowed to call me that.”

She pushed him lightly, having him let go of her shoulders. They stood there, smiling at each other, skin burning where the other’s hands had been, gazes soft with mutual ache. Y/N sighed, “So, what does this mean? For us.”

Rex thought for a minute, walking around her to continue where they had left off cleaning. After she had joined him, he hummed in response, “I think it’s a promise.”

“A promise?” she repeated, finishing up putting all the spares and discarded parts in an unlabelled crate next to the fighter. She leaned against the crate, arms crossing as she grinned at him, “What kind of a promise?”

“After the war is done,” Rex explained, tone surprisingly optimistic, “we can travel the galaxy together. No enemies to be on lookout for, not having to worry about getting caught by my nosy men-”

“Does it have to wait till after the war?” she whined, but still watching him as if he were hanging the stars as opposed to just picking up her tool box. He handed her the plasteel case, latching it closed with one deft hand.

“We can discuss that later,” he sent her a sly wink. She rolled her eyes, righting herself off the crate and looking up at him with the familiar teasing glint in her eyes that he’s come to find very charming.

“Just because you’ve finally confessed, don’t think this means I’ll stop toying with you, sir.”

All he could do was let his smile grow, just thinking about all the alluring ways she’ll drive him crazy, “I never wanted you to stop.”

[new-sandrafilter]

Timothée Chalamet and Eileen Atkins Interview - British Vogue May 2020

“Maybe your knuckles weren’t bleeding, but there was ice,” Timothée Chalamet tells Dame Eileen Atkins. He is recounting, with no small amount of awe, how he first came to hear of the legendary 85-year-old actor with whom he is about to appear at The Old Vic. It transpires that Oscar Isaac, Chalamet’s co-star in the upcoming blockbuster Dune, was at the receiving end of Atkins’ fist in Ridley Scott’s Robin Hood (all in the name of acting, of course). Chalamet was duly impressed.

“I gave him the worst time of his life,” says Atkins, bristling at the memory, before merrily launching into several candid, very dame-like stories from her time on set – “That was a nightmare movie. A nightmare.”

It is a Saturday afternoon in late February, and the two actors – one a titan of British theatre with an eight-decade career; the other, Hollywood’s most in-demand young leading man, with an insatiable Instagram following – have just finished being photographed together for Vogue. Chalamet, 24, in louche, low-slung denim and a white T-shirt, has folded his Bambi limbs into a chair next to Atkins, whose hawkish frame, in a navy jumper and jeans, belies her 85 years.

“Do you like being called Tim or Timothée or what?” Atkins asks in her warm but brisk RP, all trace of her Tottenham upbringing erased.

“Whatever works,” he replies in a bright American accent, that shock of chestnut hair falling into his eyes. “Anything.”

“So you won’t object to ‘darling’? I call everyone darling. I’m told I mustn’t say it these days.” He assures her he is fine with it: “It’s a rite of passage, being called darling by Dame Eileen Atkins.”

“You always, always, have to put the dame in, otherwise you can’t address me,” she jokes.

It’s good the two are getting all this sorted now. A couple of days after our interview they will begin rehearsals for a seven-week run of Amy Herzog’s play 4000 Miles, in which they star as a grandmother and grandson, each quietly dealing with their own grief. Chalamet takes on the role of Leo Joseph-Connell, a somewhat lost 21-year-old who experiences a tragedy while on a 4,000-mile-long cycle ride with his best friend. Atkins plays Vera Joseph, his widowed 91-year-old grandmother, upon whose Manhattan doorstep Leo unexpectedly arrives in the middle of the night, unsure of where else to go. What follows is a wonderful, and wonderfully witty, study in human relationships, a portrait of two generations with decades between them trying to make sense of the world.

Its stars, who’ve met twice previously, in New York last year, are still very much getting to know each other – and are confident in the appeal. “There are things like this play – hoping I don’t butcher it – where you can just sit back and go, ‘Oh, this is a delicious meal,’” says Chalamet. Atkins agrees. “I have a phrase in mind that I shouldn’t really say because it’s going to sound terrible in print.” Which is? “I find it a dear little play, a really dear little play. I think it should be very moving. But who knows? We might f**k it up.”

It’s unlikely. Atkins has been a regular on The Old Vic’s stage since the 1960s, going toe-to-toe with greats from Laurence Olivier to Alec Guinness, and fellow dames (and close friends) Maggie Smith and Judi Dench. Chalamet, meanwhile, is a relative novice, with only two professional plays under his belt. But since his turn as Elio in 2017’s Call Me by Your Name (for which he was Oscar-nominated), his celluloid rise has been meteoric. Roles in Lady Bird, Little Women, The King and Wes Anderson’s upcoming The French Dispatch have not only earned him the slightly fraught badge of “heart-throb”, but proved him to be among the most captivating actors of his generation.

He says he couldn’t resist the opportunity to come to the capital. “There was something exciting about doing a play that feels very New York in London,” Chalamet explains of taking on the part. He’s a diehard theatre fan, too, revealing he saw the six-and-a-half-hour epic The Inheritance – twice. “There are films like The Dark Knight or Punch-Drunk Love or Parasite that can give you a special feeling. But nothing will be like seeing Death of a Salesman on Broadway with Philip Seymour Hoffman or A Raisin in the Sun with Denzel Washington.”

Herzog’s writing particularly spoke to him. “Leo’s in a stasis that was very appealing to me,” he continues. “We find our crisis in moments of stasis, but there’s an irony to it when you’re young, because the law of the land would have you think that to be young is to be having fun, to be coming into your own. But as everyone at this age who’s going through it knows, it’s often a shitshow.”

It’s safe to say that, in casting terms, director Matthew Warchus, also artistic director of The Old Vic, has hit the jackpot. He first took the play to Atkins three years ago, but it was only towards the end of 2019 that Chalamet came on board. When it was announced, in December, that Hollywood’s heir apparent to Leonardo DiCaprio would be making his London stage debut, the news was met with a level of hysteria not usually associated with the 202-year-old theatre’s crowd.

“Oh, my friends have told me who the audience is,” Atkins chimes in when I ask who they think will be coming to see the show. “It’s 40 per cent girls who want to go to bed with Timothée, it’s 40 per cent men who want to go to bed with Timothée, and it’s 20 per cent my old faithfuls.” Is Chalamet prepared for the onslaught? “I think it will be 100 per cent Eileen’s faithfuls,” he demurs.

On the surface, they can seem quite the odd couple. Chalamet, raised in Manhattan by an American dancer-turned-realtor mother and French father, an in-house editor at the United Nations, may be living a breathless, nomadic movie-star life but there’s an iron core of Gen Z earnestness there. He arrives on set with minimal fuss, even deciding to wear the clothes he came in for one shot, before knocking out some push-ups, politely ordering an omelette and generally being divinely well-mannered.

He turns on the star power for the camera, though, and I can confirm it’s as dazzling up close as it is on the red carpet, where he has, famously, casually redrawn the rules for male dressing. From that Louis Vuitton sparkly bib at the 2018 Golden Globes, to a dove-grey satin Haider Ackermann tux at Venice last year, he’s a true fashion darling. Then, of course, there’s his dating life – from Lourdes Ciccone Leon to Lily-Rose Depp – that remains an endless source of fascination to millions worldwide. (All this, it must be said, is of significantly less interest to Dame Eileen.)

Atkins started dance lessons aged three, shortly before the start of the Second World War. By 12, she was performing professionally in pantomime, not far from where she grew up in north London, the youngest daughter in a working-class family. A fast-established theatre star, wider fame didn’t find her until late in life. Despite memorable turns in Upstairs, Downstairs and Gosford Park, it was the 2000 television hits Cranford and Doc Martin, when she was in her early seventies, that finally made her a household name. Today, she lives alone in west London, since her second husband, the TV and film producer Bill Shepherd, died in 2016. She has often spoken of being happily childless, and has zero time for razzmatazz.

And yet, despite their differences, the pair appear perfectly matched. They already have their grandmother-grandson dynamic down pat. Atkins does a fine line in mischievous eyebrow-raising, and at one point recites a limerick that is, honestly, so rude it almost makes her co-star blush. Chalamet, meanwhile, is politeness personified, still trying to work out his thoughts on various subjects, less inclined to give so much of himself away. There is a physical likeness, too, in their delicate features and fine bone structure. They share a naturally melancholic look, one that melts away when they laugh.

Their upcoming play, which premiered to rapturous reviews Off-Broadway in 2011, “about a block” from Chalamet’s high school, LaGuardia, could have been written for them. “Other than not being American, I’m very like the old woman,” says Atkins of the Pulitzer-shortlisted play. “I can’t be bothered to learn the internet.” If there’s one thing she won’t tolerate in rehearsals, it’s people on their phones. That’s the only thing that will “piss me off ”, she says, brusquely.

Ah, phones. Are they really the symbol of generational disconnect? “It’s easy to point to these things,” Chalamet says, tapping his phone on the table, “as the cause or the symptom, but I think my generation is a guinea pig generation of sorts. We’re figuring out the pros and cons and limits of technology.”

Equally, Atkins is keen to distance herself from some of the criticism levelled at her age group. “There’s a saying isn’t there: if you’re not very left wing when you’re young, you’re heartless. And if you’re not very right wing when you’re old, you’re foolish. I’m not political, but I’m not with this government I can assure you – and I’m not with Brexit. I wanted to wear a sweater saying ‘I did not vote Brexit’, because it was all old people who did. Not me, not me,” she snaps. “I went on the march.”

Both are in agreement that intergenerational friendships are too rare these days. “So. Important,” Chalamet says, hitting the table between each word. “There is so much to learn from people who have walked the path of life. That’s why I’m so looking forward to these next couple of months.”

Atkins is thoughtful on the matter. “I don’t miss the fact I don’t have children, but I do envy my friends who have grandchildren,” she says. “About five or six years ago I met a couple of young people – they are just about 30 this year – and, do you know, we go out together. And people immediately say to me, ‘Are these your grandchildren?’ And I say, ‘No.’ And they say, ‘Your godchildren?’ And I say, ‘No, they’re just friends.’ Everybody thinks there is something weird about all three of us. They just don’t get it. But the boy makes me laugh more than anybody and the girl is enchanting. I have more fun with them than I do with almost anybody else.”

I remind Atkins about her description of today’s youth as being overly serious. “I do call them the New Puritans, yes,” she says, before motioning to her young co-star. “He probably drinks like a fish.”

Chalamet, currently single, is remaining tight-lipped about plans for his new London life, and how many late-night manoeuvres in Soho or Peckham it may involve. “I’ve got friends here, which is nice. But I’m here for this – to be terrified at The Old Vic.”

Before we leave, there is a final thing to clear up – Atkins’ aforementioned limerick. “Do you know about the Colin Farrell situation?” Eileen asks Timothée. No, comes his reply. “Better get it over with now because someone will tell you,” she says, proceeding to explain how, when she was “69, about to be 70” and filming Ask the Dust with a 27-year-old Farrell, “he made a pass at me. He came to my hotel room. He was enchanting. I let him chat for two hours, thoroughly enjoying it, but no not that. He was very cross I didn’t.”

But then, she explains guiltily, she later told the story during “some stupid TV show” (Loose Women), where despite her best efforts at keeping Farrell’s identity secret, the internet did its thing and news got out. An apology to Farrell was required. “So I left a limerick on Colin’s phone…” she says. She clears her throat: “There once was a **** of a dame…” she begins, in her imitable theatrical timbre, before reeling off one of the filthiest rhymes I’ve ever heard.

There is a moment of stunned laughter. “Wow, that’s sincerely amazing,” comes Chalamet’s response, as Atkins finishes the verse. He gives her a solemn oath: “I promise I won’t hit on you.”

4000 Miles is at The Old Vic, SE1, from 6 April

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Little Surprises

Your husband Calum takes your daughter Lucy to pick out a puppy to foster, but things don’t go as planned.

This is pretty fluffy and there’s no smut (who am I???)

CW: strong language, mentions of depression, anxiety, alcohol, and pregnancy

"Hurry Daddy, hurry up before they close," Lucy, your four-year-old daughter, impatient as always, yelled from the back seat of Calum's Rover. 

"Just a second sweetpea, we have plenty of time," he replied over his shoulder as he walked with you back to the front door. You'd finally given in to Lucy's pleas to foster a dog during the lock down. Your daughter was intelligent, sociable, and bored out of her mind these past couple weeks. Her favorite, Uncle Michael, was helping to keep her occupied by playing animal crossing with her every day, but you limited her game time to one hour in the afternoon. So to help keep her occupied he showed her videos of the puppy they were fostering while stuck in the house. Once the idea was in her head there was no getting it out, and it didn't help that Calum thought it would teach her responsibility. With the two of them against you it was a miracle you held out a whole week.

 You hadn't been feeling well these past couple weeks and the idea of a puppy underfoot and needing taken care of was not something that appealed to you. Your husband managed to convince you by taking wonderful care of both his girls while you were all home together. He'd made up a schedule for Lucy that kept her out of your way so you could work until lunchtime when you traded off so he could promo his latest album. You'd started doing stretching and yoga together as a family before dinner for about a week now, and you could tell it was starting to pay off. Calum being home with nothing to do meant he'd been all over you every night and morning, and occasionally during nap time. You were loving it, but your back and hips were killing you. Still it was better than the first lockdown in 2020 when you hadn't been able to see each other for three months. He'd whisked you away to a beach cottage for a romantic weekend, and nine months later your daughter was born. 

 When the weather was nice they played in the backyard. Lucy adored her father, and anything did, she had to do.  She wanted to play soccer so Calum practiced with her running drills in the backyard and polishing up his own skills in the process. It was hard to concentrate on your laptop, and you caught yourself watching them instead of working. Part of you still marveled that this was your life, your family, and your husband. 

Had it really been just six years since the first night you'd met in a bar after a concert you'd both attended? You'd been so drunk you'd gasped and told him he looked just like "Calum Hood, the sexist fucking bass player in the world." Cal found that hilarious, but your boyfriend at the time very much did not. This led to a screaming match outside the club where he called you every name in the book and left you crying on the curb before taking a very expensive two-hour taxi ride home. In his anger he forgot you'd reserved a hotel room to avoid the drive after the show. You remembered the hotel but couldn't remember how to get there which made you cry harder.

Right then Calum came out for a smoke and found you a weepy, sloppy mess. After he'd calmed you down, he insisted on walking you back to your hotel. You thought it was right around the corner, but you got turned around and Calum ended up walking with you for almost thirty minutes before you found it. He insisted on having a female employee walk with y'all to your room before giving you a goodnight hug.

The next morning you'd been awoken by a pounding headache. You quickly downed three glasses of water and sat in the shower until the hot water ran out trying to piece together the previous night. You were convinced the handsome man was a figment of your imagination until you saw Calum Hood followed you on Instagram and Twitter. Opening your phone you found a new number saved as "The Real Calum Hood." 

You'd convinced yourself, after much yelling and multiple threats from your best friends, to take a once in a lifetime chance and go on a date with a bonafide rock star. You were convinced it would never work, but once Calum had his heart set, you never stood a chance.  You loved that man with a ferocity you hadn't known possible, and trusted him with your life, but if you ended up being the only one to clean up after this dog you were gonna kill him. 

*******

As Calum pulled out of the driveway he felt a twinge of guilt, he had every intention of getting you to change your mind about "fostering" a dog. He missed having a dog, Lucy was old enough, and it would teach her responsibility. He and Lucy had spent the past week getting ready for the puppy. They'd stocked up on supplies, watched videos about dog training

Growing up being shuffled between households, and always taking care of your siblings, you were never allowed to keep a pet. And while you craved the stability you found with Calum, Lucy and his family, you also panicked at the idea of being tied down. Two years ago, when you'd first married and bought this house, it took you several months to trust yourself to really decorate and make it your own. 

He smiled back at Lucy singing, "How Far I'll Go" at the top of her voice. You'd been hesitant to let her watch Disney movies, not wanting her to admire the pretty princess stereotype. Moana won you over, and your lock screen was still a picture of her and Calum as Moana and Maui for her very first trick or treat last fall. He loved you for giving him the greatest gift anyone could give. Even though Lucy was the spitting image of her aunt Mali the cleverness and quick wit that kept him on his toes was all you. 

This was a special trip so Lucy made sure to dress accordingly. She was going to wear her prettiest dress, but Calum had reminded her about how the dogs' paws could be dirty and scratch through the delicate fabric. After considering that she picked out her black and yellow Pokemon overalls paired with her child-size Doc Marten's, black like her dad's but with little multi-colored hearts. You'd pulled her dark curls into pigtails fastened with Pikachu hair bows. 

She was bouncing in her car seat as they pulled into the shelter.

"Puppy, puppy, puppy," she chanted as she unbuckled herself and he lifted her out of the car.

"Lucy Koa Hood if you take one more step away from this car," Calum warned his daughter, stopping her dead in her tracks before she bolted for the door. She looked up at him with those huge brown eyes, so much like his own, and grabbed his hand. She skipped towards the entrance pulling him along behind her.  

He'd already sent  the application and made an appointment so an employee was waiting to talk them back right away.

The sound and smell of dogs pricked at Calum's senses as they walked back towards the kennels. Lucy squeezed his hand tightly and he could feel a slight tremble. 

"Are you ok Lulu?" He was worried it was overwhelming for her and bent down to pick her up. 

She took a deep breath, puffed out her chest and looked him in the eye, and nodded. 

"I can walk Daddy. I'm a big girl," she told him, still clutching his hand. 

"Ok sweetpea, but if it gets too much let me know ok?" He reassured her, rubbing his thumb along the back of her tiny hand. 

Calum clicked a picture of Lucy's face as they brought in the puppy.  She had the biggest smile and her dark eyes were shining. She was so excited and was squirming and bouncing in her seat next to him. Cal stopped them from handing her the puppy until she could hold still. 

The puppy started wiggling as soon as they put him in Lucy's lap and began climbing up her chest, and licking her face. At first she giggled but she quickly got uncomfortable. She wanted to sit and pet him quietly. The little guy was energetic, rambunctious, in her face, and Calum could tell she didn't like it one bit. He scooped the pup out of her lap cradling it in his hands, gently holding him back so Lucy could reach in and pet him. The puppy let her pat his head a couple times before starting to gnaw on her fingers. 

Lucy snatched her hand back, crying out with surprise. Calum tried to explain to her that puppies were baby dogs and like babies they chewed on things and wiggled a lot, but Lucy outright refused to touch it again.

"No thank you, Daddy, I don't think that's the right one," she told him, crossing her arms across her chest. 

He handed the puppy back to the employee and asked to see the next one. Lucy's excitement had dimmed but it was still there when the employee brought back a pretty gold and white pup. He took her first, but this one was even more rowdy than the last one. Lucy clapped her hands and giggled watching the little gal attack Calum with much ferocity if very little coordination, but she refused to even try to pet it. 

"No thank you, I'll pass," Lucy politely declined and Calum was starting to wonder if they were going to leave with a dog after all.

"Ok we'll try one more," the employee told them smiling at Lucy who nodded and smiled back. 

"We don't have to get one today Lulu, it's ok to keep looking for a while," he reminded her.

"We just have to be patient, everything will work out," she tried to reassure him, speaking gently and patting his arm.

"Wonder where you got that from?" Calum snickered at your all too familiar phrase. 

The employee brought the final puppy in, and Calum felt hopeful when he saw the little fella was sleepy and not hyped up. Lucy was beaming and let them set the puppy in her lap. 

"Easy, easy" she whispered to herself and she stroked the brown and white fur. "See it's not so bad." She grinned at Calum looking both thrilled and relieved, but then her face twisted into a horrified look of shock. He was confused until the next second when she picked the puppy, still peeing, out of her lap holding it over the floor. 

The shelter worker grabbed the puppy, as Lucy burst into tears. Calum slid next to his daughter, putting his arm around her and curling her into his side. He kissed the top of her head over and over, rubbing her back, and murmuring "it's ok baby, it's ok," until she caught her breath again. 

They returned with a towel and helped get her dried off as best they could. Calum decided to call it a day and Lucy started sniffling all over again. He knelt down so he could talk to his daughter face to face.

"Don't cry sweetpea," he brushed the tears off her cheeks. "It just wasn't meant to be today, but they have our application on file. We'll make another appointment and come back. At least now we know a puppy might not be the best idea and we'll see what other options we have ok. Now if I know your mom she's got an outfit stashed for you in the car. We'll get you changed and go get ice cream ok?" 

She stood up still hiccuping and wiping her face. Calum went to pick her up but she shook her head and backed away. 

"No Daddy, I'm not scared, I'm just upset," she protested, still sniffling but fighting it back. " I wanna see the dogs when we leave." 

"Can we leave through the kennels?" Calum asked.

"Of course," the employee smiled down at Lucy. "I've got some stickers for you up front too. Just follow me." 

They led the back through a hallway and a set of double doors. The dogs went nuts when they saw them and Lucy stood back for a second. The shelter worker started to ask if she was ok but Calum held his hand up, motioning for them to wait. He watched his daughter squeeze her eyes shut and ball up her fists while taking deep breaths. Her lips were moving and he eased closer to hear what she was saying. 

"You're a big girl. You are smart. You are brave. You can do this." Lucy was repeating the words he'd heard your say to their daughter whenever her courage faltered. He felt a lump in his throat watching his little girl finding the inner strength you'd given her starting the day she took her first breath. 

She stuck her chin out and grabbed his hand, keeping close by his side as they walked. She gave a little wave as they passed the kennels.

"Bye doggies, bye doggies," she called out softly, her normal exuberance and energy tempered by the day's unfortunate events. Calum kept her hand in his as he chatted with the shelter employee. They told him they were a big fan of the band and played guitar from time to time. Cal started to offer to take a pic when he felt Lucy tugging at his hand. 

"C'mon sweetpea, we gotta get you changed. We'll come back another day," he told her. 

"Daddy wait a minute, I wanna see something," she pulled harder trying to get away.

"Next time Lulu, next time, I think you've had enough today," he pulled her along and she stumbled a bit making him stop. 

"My shoes need tied," she told him and he let go of her hand, ready to bend down to fix it.

Lucy turned on her heel and took off back towards the kennels. Doc Marten's don't make the best running shoes, but Calum was wearing his too. Not only that, she caught him off guard so she had already tumbled to a stop by the time he caught up. He saw her fall and was worried she hurt herself. He stopped when he saw her on her knees scooting towards one of the cages.

"Hi there, don't be scared" her voice was soft and soothing. Calum scanned the cage, finally spotting a small dog huddled in the corner. Golden colored fur shot through with silver and black with a pair of light blue eyes peering at their little group. 

"I'm Lucy, what's your name? Come say hi, I'm not scary like these big dogs," Lucy pat the top of her thighs trying to coax the dog over. 

"His name is Astro," Calum read the sign for her.

"And he's four years old, like me," Lucy told him pointing at the number above her head.

"No sweetpea, that's the cage number," Calum explained but the shelter employee broke in

"Actually Astro is four like you, but he's very shy and doesn't like most people," they informed her. 

"What's his story? What breed is that?" Calling was curious. Astro had at least turned to face them, ears forward listening to them. 

"Astro, Astro," Lucy called him. "Come here pretty boy." She tried whistling but she couldn't do it so she ended up spitting on herself.

"So Astro is 4, and there's definitely some corgi because he's got short little legs. Other than that our best guess is Australian Shepherd? His owner passed away maybe five, six months ago. Her daughter owns cats and the dog isn't very social so he ended up here. He's quiet so he rarely gets noticed," they quietly filled Calum in.

"Good with kids?" He asked.

"No clue, he keeps to himself and doesn't really deal with people." They shrugged, not knowing what to say. 

They stopped at the sound of a whimper. Astro was belly crawling incredibly slowly towards Lucy who hadn't stopped talking. 

"Come on Astro, come on. You can sleep in my room and we can be best friends. I have a best friend Sam but she's at school. Be my friend Astro pleeeaaasseee. I'm four just like you. We're not babies like puppies or my uncle Ashton has a baby, her name is Lauren. She's little so we can't play with her yet, but her sister Annie is four like us, and Kat is three. I forgot," her little hands fluttered with excitement. "Oh Astro, listen listen, Uncle Michael will let us come over. We can go in the pool, and he has dogs that will be your friend too. And I have the best mommy and daddy. Mommy is so pretty. She dances with me and says I am brave. I am smart. You need to be brave too Astro."

By now the dog was closer, almost in reach. Astro's eyes were fixed on Lucy, listening intently. Calum squatted down next to his daughter. "Lulu are you sure?" 

Lucy nodded rapidly, her pigtails bouncing as she answered. "Completely sure Daddy. He's lonely, I need to be his friend." 

Calum laughed, but it died when he looked down and saw the sadness and hope in the dog's eyes. "Poor little guy," Calum thought. "He doesn't know what's happening, just that he's been abandoned." 

 "Can we take him? Instead of a puppy?" He asked. 

"Please, please, please?" Lucy scrambled to her feet, bouncing on her toes, and her dark eyes pleading with them. 

"Of course, I just gotta get some paperwork. Come with me to the front and I'll get that taken care of," they started to lead Calum away but Lucy held back.

"I gotta go up front for the paper works, but you're coming home with us Astro," Lucy told him.

She turned and started to follow them, and Astro let out a long mournful whine. She turned around and went back.

"It's ok, I'll be right here. I won't leave you," Lucy blew him a kiss and ran back to her dad. 

They got up to the front and Calum told the employee they had to step outside for a moment.

"Daddy no, we can't leave," Lucy started to cry again. "We gotta get Astro."

"We will Lulu, but if I don't get you changed your mother will have my neck. I don't need mama mad at me," Calum told her. 

Lucy accepted that and didn't protest farther. You always packed a "car bag" whenever Lucy went anywhere in case of emergencies. Sure enough, tucked under the wet wipes, hair ties, and first aid kit was a change of clothes including socks and underwear. Fortunately it hadn't soaked through, so Calum took her shoes off and quickly changed her in the back of the Rover to leggings and a tunic.  

"He's gonna think we left him," she was pulling at him as they walked back in. 

They'd just walked through the door and they could hear Astro's whimpering as they were bringing him out. Calum whipped out his camera just in time to record Lucy's reaction when the dog came out, but it was Astro's expression of joy that touched him most. Lucy knelt down and Astro shuffled up to her, still a little skittish. She was patient, patting her thighs and calling softly to him until he finally came in close and rested his snout on her shoulder giving her a small lick on her ear. Lucy giggled and wrapped her arms around him. Calum took a picture and sent it to you as a heads up with the caption.

Lucy and Astro ❤️ I'll explain when I get home. I love you

Astro? I thought we were fostering a puppy. How can I say no now? We'll have this conversation later after Lucy goes to bed. I love you

*******

You rubbed your temples and sighed, hating yourself for being so irritated. You weren't feeling well and had a lot on your mind. You needed to have a conversation with your husband, but that would have to wait. 

You were in the kitchen checking on dinner when you heard the car pulling into the driveway. You made it to the door and were greeted by your daughter's excited chatter. Calum came around with Lucy, in different clothes then she's left in, dancing backward trying to control herself. You caught sight of Astro, a beautiful dog but seemed timid. He was watching Lucy's every move. Calum smiled at you and mouthed "are you ok?" You nodded and smiled back, not wanting him to worry.  

Astro wouldn't come near you, and ducked away when you reached out for him. He trailed behind Lucy as she introduced him to the house. 

"Hey you," Calum murmured in your ear, coming up behind you. You leaned back into his embrace, feeling your mind and body relax in a way only Calum could bring out. "I have to do some laundry. Why don't you go rest up and let me watch over the kid." 

"Sweetheart I'm fine, I've got a veggie lasagna in the oven. I've just been tired, but we can talk about that later. What happened at the shelter? I notice she changed clothes," you turned around, gazing up at your husband. You never got tired of looking at his face, still amazed you were lucky enough to love him. 

"One of the puppies peed on her. It was a disaster, and I really thought we were coming home empty-handed." 

"So how did we end up with Astro?" You reached up and booped his nose.

Calum grinned and wrinkled his nose in response," you always do that." 

"Your nose is always cute." 

"We were leaving through the kennels, and she was pretty freaked out. She had to psych herself up saying, I am smart, I am brave. I swear you're such a great mom. I'm so glad I knocked you up," he told you, landing a kiss on your lips. "As we were leaving she stopped, and even tricked me by telling me her shoes were untied. She took off and found this small creature that needed her to be his friend. The shelter employee said Astro ignored pretty much everyone until Lucy came along. She was so patient, I was really surprised, but she waited for him to come to her. She kept telling him she wanted to be his friend. It was the cutest thing."

"What no video?" 

"Of course, but Lucy has been a bit too quiet. Let's go see what she's up to," he kissed you again, reluctant to let go. "Are you sure you're ok?" 

"Yes, Cal," you replied as you stepped back and took his hand. 

You found Lucy in her playroom introducing Astro to her toys, bringing each one out and letting him sniff it before putting it back. 

Later at dinner Lucy chattered away in her booster seat while Astro laid by her chair. He finally let you pet him in return for some wet dog food. He seemed to be adjusting pretty well for the first night until it was time for bed. He whimpered and whined when Calum put him in his crate. Lucy, overtired and cranky, began sobbing inconsolably. You were tempted to not give in, but Calum compromised by letting Lucy "camp out." They pulled out Lucy's sleeping bag so she could sleep in her playroom with the crate. 

"We'll figure it out tomorrow, my love," Calum assured you. He got them settled in and Astro quieted down once Lucy laid down. You stood in the doorway watching him tuck your daughter in and sing her to sleep. In no time she was out like a light, and Cal turned his attention to you. 

"It's been a long day," he kissed you and pulled you back towards the living room. "Let me make you a drink and give you a backrub," He gave you a wink and a wicked smile as his hand slid down to your ass. 

"Would you make me a cup of tea, and then we can talk back rub. Although it always ends up going further than that." You laugh at the smirk he gives you in response. 

"You're the one who starts it," he reminded her.

"Not fair," you protest. "You're such a tease." 

"Me, I'm completely innocent," Calum protested.

"You are not, but you're very handsome so I'll let it slide." You sat on the couch and the anxiety came creeping back. 

Calum brought your tea, a bag of cookies, and settled in next to you. He pulled you in close to his side, wrapping his arm around you, and throwing your legs over his so you were sitting at an angle that he could see your face.

"Now will you please tell me what's going on? You've been stressing for days, and you won't tell me what's going on. Please don't shut me out. If you're having a rough time, just tell me. We can work through anything, but I don't want it to get bad like last time." You'd always struggled with depression, and you'd had a terrible time after Lucy was born. His thumb stroked the back of your hand as he spoke, and you saw the worry in his eyes and felt terribly guilty. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry," you began, but Calum cut you off.

"Don't apologize, my love, just talk to me," Calum took your hand and raised it to his mouth for a kiss.

"Ok, I know this isn't the best timing. You're going on tour and Lucy starts kindergarten in the fall. Do you remember Luke's pool party?"

"The madness of all the kids together. Luke almost setting the grill on fire. You in that blue swimsuit." Calum's voice dropped to a growl as his hand slid up your thigh. 

"Don't you start, that's how I got in this predicament," you warned him.

"I don't start anything, but I finish it.  Don't think I won't take you right here in the living-" Calum stopped, his eyes going wide as he looked at you.

He looked at the mug of tea steaming on the coffee table then back at your face. His hand moved from your legs to your waist, resting on your belly.

"You're pregnant?" 

You nodded. "Like I said I'm sorry the timing isn't ideal but-." Your words were smothered in a kiss as Calum pulled you onto his lap. 

"Are you sure? Did you take a test?" 

"While you guys were gone. I've suspected it for about a week now, but I needed a test." 

"Can I see it?" 

"It's in my purse." 

Calum grabbed your bag and was back by your side instantly. He watched as you pulled out a plastic baggie work the test in it. He saw the two blue lines right away, and he started to cry. You panicked, thinking for a second he was upset with you, but when he looked up at you, you'd never seen him look happier. 

"Come here you," he pulled you onto him so you were straddling him on the couch, sitting face to face. "Forget about the timing, we've never done anything at the right time." He cupped your face in his hands, brushing his fingers along your jawline and cheeks. "None of that matters because it's you and I, and together we can get through anything. I love you so much. You're the best mom. I can't believe we're gonna have another little one," he gave you a kiss, and then another.  "I can never thank you enough for everything you've given me and how happy you make me every day." He wiped his eyes but the tears wouldn't stop. 

"Why are you crying? Are you going soft on me Hood?" You asked, but you were laughing and crying along with him.

He pushed himself off the couch, lifting you up with him in one fluid motion. 

"Feel those muscles baby? Definitely not soft," Calum growled in your ear as he carried you down the hall. 

"What are you doing?" You asked as he stopped so y'all could peek in on Lucy and Astro.

"I'm about to show my beautiful wife how much I love her. Especially now that I don't have to worry about getting you pregnant."

@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @sexgodashton @maluminspace @wildmichaelflower @ghostofmashton @sublimehood @tea4sykes @h0tsos @goth5sos @5-secondsofcolor @toofadedtofight @calteahood @noshamenion @irwinkitten @mermaidcashton @cherrycolamike​

[etirabys]

I read about a very cute and strange online marriage match in Age of Ambition. Before I jump into how they met, let me introduce one half of the couple, a woman named Gong Haiyan (born Hainan) – she was very entrepreneurial as a child and ended up founding a very popular e-dating service right when China was starting to use the internet. (While writing this post I discovered this particular chapter was also a New Yorker article.)

Gong Hainan was born at the foot of a mountain in the village of Waduangang, in Hunan, the home province of Chairman Mao. Her parents met under benighted circumstances. During the Cultural Revolution, they were paired with each other because they shared a political affliction: their families had been classified as “well-off peasants.” A village matchmaker put them together. Gong’s family raised peanuts and cotton and chickens and pigs. 

...

When her neighbors began to open tiny businesses, Gong badgered her parents to let her join the trend. They laughed. “We have three neighbors, and a mountain behind us. Who is going to shop here?” they asked. Undeterred, Gong enlisted her little brother, Haibin, into a business proposition: They would buy ice pops and resell them door-to-door. After one day of lugging a thirty-pound Styrofoam cooler around the rutted village paths, her brother quit. “I could’ve beaten him half to death and he wouldn’t go out again,” she said. But Gong made a map of the village that identified which parents were known to cave in to their kids’ demands, and she charted the optimal route. Soon she was selling two boxes a day. “Whatever you’re doing,” she concluded, “you have to be strategic.” 

(I freaking love this kid)

When Gong was sixteen, her test scores earned her a place at the top local high school, a transformative moment for a farming family. Shortly before school was to start, she was riding into town on a tractor-taxi, on her way to restock her ice pop supply, when the tractor plunged into a ditch. The other passengers were thrown clear, but she had been sitting on the front bench. Her right leg was crushed, and her nose was nearly severed. She would recover, but when she got out of the hospital, wearing a hip cast, she discovered that a rural school could not accommodate a student unable to walk. The school suggested she withdraw.

Gong’s mother, Jiang Xiaoyuan, would have none of it. She moved into the dorm and carried her daughter on her back—up and down the stairs to the classrooms, back and forth to the toilet. (Gong trained herself to use the bathroom no more than twice a day.) While Gong was in class, her mother hustled outside to the street to sell fruit from baskets to make extra money. I wondered if the story was a metaphor, until I met her mother. “There was one especially tall building, the laboratory, and her class was up on the fourth floor,” Jiang said, scowling at the memory of it. Gong had never seriously considered an alternative. “School was the only way out,” Jiang told me. “We never wanted for her to work in the fields like us.”

For some reason she ends up dropping out to work in a factory in a big town, does as well as she can as a migrant for a few years, but changes her mind when it becomes apparent how limited migrants’ opportunities are, and re-enrolls in school.

She had to get to a city. She said, “I decided to go back to school.” “Everyone in the village was against the idea,” she went on. “They said, ‘You’re a twenty-one-year-old woman. Go and get married!’” In the village hierarchy, the only person who ranked lower than a young woman was a young woman who had something better in mind for her future. But her parents supported her decision, and the school allowed her to reenroll in the eleventh grade. She scored the highest rank in the county on the national college entrance test, and earned a coveted spot at Peking University[, eventually gets a master's degree in journalism]

(I’m so emotional about her parents, guys, I actually teared up in the restaurant I was reading this in. Good job for supporting your incredibly talented motivated daughter in a social milieu where that’s not a normal thing to do!)

Then she founds her e-dating service. It was so popular she got profiles snailmailed in from rural hopefuls who wanted to join.

Gong was nothing like the other Web entrepreneurs I knew in China. For one thing, the top ranks of Chinese technology were dominated by men. And unlike others who glimpsed the potential of the Internet in China, she didn’t speak fluent English. She didn’t even have a degree in computer science. She still had a trace of the countryside about her. She spoke at high volume, except before crowds, when her voice trembled. She was five feet three, still with narrow shoulders, and when she talked about her business, I got the feeling that she was talking about herself. “We’re not like you foreigners, who make friends easily in a bar or go traveling and chat up a stranger,” she told me. “This is not about messing around for fun. Our membership has a very clear goal: to get married.”

That was a bit of background but hopefully it was worth it – she’s an extraordinary woman. She finds her husband on the dating service she founded, and it’s just so dense with hilarious detail –

(Guo’s posting reads as absurdly, bare-facedly picky to me, but the book lists other examples of postings on that dating website, and his criteria and phrasing are not at all atypical for Chinese men and women using the service.)

Not long after Gong Haiyan launched her business, a posting caught her eye: “Seeking a wife, 1.62 meters tall, above-average looks, graduate degree.”

The seeker was a postdoc, studying fruit flies. He liked to exercise, and he attached a jokey photograph of himself flexing his triceps in front of his lab bench. “He had the whole package,” Gong told me. Then she looked at his requirements and discovered, “I didn’t meet a single one.” She decided to answer him anyway, in a pose of high confidence. “Your announcement is not well written,” she wrote. “Even if someone meets all those requirements, she’ll think you’re picky.”

The man’s name was Guo Jianzeng, and he was embarrassed. “I’ve never written anything like this, and I don’t quite know what I’m doing,” he replied. Gong volunteered to polish his announcement. “After polishing,” she told me, “I could think of exactly four girls in the world who met the criteria, including me.”

GET HIM, GONG HAIYAN

Guo Jianzeng was thirty-three and shy. When they met, his phone had eight numbers stored in it. He was not a born romantic—his first gift to her was a replacement for a pair of broken spectacles—and he was not rich; he had less than four thousand dollars to his name. But Gong asked him to take an IQ test. She was surprised when he beat her score by five points. She was also moved by the way he cared for his widowed father. On their second date, he proposed marriage to her on the subway.

She rode sidesaddle on the back of his bicycle to the Ministry of Civil Affairs, where they paid nine yuan for a marriage certificate. The ceremony took ten minutes. Instead of a wedding ring, he bought her a laptop.

Nerds! Smart weirdos in a culture that I find alien (and sometimes horrible), doing recognizable smart weirdo things!

[cryxmercy]

Backdraft || Mercy & Arthur

When: A couple of weeks before New Year’s Eve. Immediately following this. Where: Arthur’s office @ the University. Who: Mercy and @arthurjdrake

TW: one mention of preventing potential head trauma, but no actual head trauma; possible memory loss tw (for a few brief moments of confusion)

Sometimes the simplest solution is not the right one. 

By the time Mercy had driven the distance from the house to the University, she’d managed to pull her scattered thoughts into some small semblance of order. She could still feel the unsettling pins and needles sensation across the skin of her arm, and her anxiety thrummed like a swarm of angry bees, but the former had at least faded a bit as she’d distanced herself from the cause. For now at least.

She didn’t linger too long in the parking lot, but also tried not to look hurried as she made her way towards Arthur’s office. As always, she entered without knocking, except this time she closed and locked the door before settling heavily into the chair opposite his desk. Mercy sat there, legs crossed, foot shaking up and down as she worried her lip with her teeth. 

“How’s marking?” she asked after a bit, indicating the enormous pile of papers on his desk (and promptly avoiding the real reason for her visit). “Want some help?” 

Arthur reclined in the aged leather chair a crisp winter breeze stirring some of the coursework papers stacked in piles upon his desk. His eyes tracked back and forth across each line of text as he read, still and quiet save for the lo-fi music drifting out of a bluetooth speaker on the shelf. Occasionally the stillness was broken with a reach for his fourth freshly brewed cup of coffee, a sip before its return to the ornate coffee mat off to one side of the desk. 

The process was methodical, reading through the coursework before a second read through was taken with pen to paper marking addendums or eliminations of unnecessary or particularly insightful details. And then the tedious task of checking each citation list for formatting errors - the most boring part of the process admittedly.

It wasn’t surprising for Mercy to arrive unannounced and deposit herself in the chair opposite and Arthur didn’t look up initially though the click of the lock was different. A flicker of his eyes followed, a quick track from the door to Mercy and then back in a fraction of a second until he finished reading and set the paper aside. “Honestly I’m actually almost done with them,” it wasn’t entirely true but it was clear as day she was skirting around something. “I’m surprised you came down. I’m almost done for the day to be honest.”

Mercy wasn’t bothered when Arthur didn’t immediately look up from his marking. It wasn’t as if her presence was anything unusual at this point, even if her behavior was slightly out of the ordinary this time. His decline of her offer to help was acknowledged with a distracted hum instead of Mercy’s usual sarcasm or witty retort, and although the rest of what Arthur said wasn’t phrased as a question, they had known each other long enough to know when one was being asked.  

This time it was Mercy’s gaze that flickered towards Arthur before sliding over the papers on his desk, and then to the other neatly stacked piles of letters and correspondence that sat here and there. She even glanced towards the rubbish bin, but there was nothing that caught her eye. Best get on with it then. 

“A letter came for me today.” At first, it sounded like nothing unusual. Everyone received letters in the mail on occasion. It was the addendum to that statement that made all the difference. 

“A Black Letter.” 

Arthur knew it was simply a matter of time, he didn’t need to probe or ask to know that eventually an answer to why she was here would present itself. He waited, giving her time to process and search for the words she wanted to put together, and as expected it came not much later. A letter. Not all that strange but he was sure there would be something that set this mail apart. 

The scratch of his fountain pen stilled with the further clarification; a dark blot staining the paper as the ink bled out his hesitation. The stark proof of his conflicted thoughts and feelings towards this revelation laid bare. 

Firstly: relief over the simple fact he hadn’t received such a notification himself. Wasn’t apparently still bound to a contract he too had signed and agreed to.

Secondly: ire that Mercy was still beholden to a contract signed such a long period of time ago which was somehow being seen as something she was beholden to act upon. It was nonsensical and illogical and made his blood steam in his veins. 

The ink continued to run for several long moments before Arthur finally retracted the pen and set it aside, cracking his knuckles individually as he finally looked at Mercy across the desk. “What do they want?”

A small furrow appeared in Mercy’s brow as she watched the ink blot spread across the paper. Further proof that Arthur hadn’t received a letter of his own. If he had, he would have already been aware of the fact. So she knew he had to be relieved. Why wouldn’t he be? He was a different person now, wasn’t he? The man that had signed that contract so many years ago now had long since died and been reborn. Many times over. 

Unlike Mercy. Who was as she’d always been. And always would be. 

But even so… surely there was a statute of limitations on such a thing? Surely she wasn’t beholden to a contract signed nearly half a millennium ago. Surely there was some mistake. 

The ache in her arm told her otherwise. 

So Mercy waited as Arthur absorbed the information. All the while, a voice in her head whispered ‘See? It doesn’t matter what you do… or who you try to be… how you try to live… you will never find peace… you will never be free…’ 

Fingers pressed against her temple as she forced the voice into silence. As she did, Arthur asked his question, to which Mercy could only shake her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t touch it yet.” Her hand flexed. “I thought you might’ve-” But she stopped short, letting out a sharp huff of air. Mercy set her jaw, her next words coming far steadier than she herself felt. “But I don’t suppose you would’ve. That’s good. That’s-” She nodded once, flexed her hand again. “- good.” And it was. She wouldn’t wish this on Arthur. Not ever.  

A bit of silence followed, until finally Mercy seemed to deflate.

“I don’t want to read it. I don’t… want anything to do with it.” She looked up at him finally, her eyes full of shadows. “I’m tired, Ren. I’m just… so fucking tired…”

Absentmindedly Arthur started to lightly pull at the sleeve of his jumper, worrying the fabric in thought now that his pen was out of his hand. It was an old habit, one that seemed to transcend lifetimes. To fiddle with any one of the many little knick knacks scattered across his desk and failing that stretch the sleeves of his jumpers into paws when his brain started to work overtime.

His eyes fixed on the letter, wondering just what the contents might pertain to. What they would want after all this time. Surely their contracts were done. Null and void to the dusts of time. But apparently not. How many more times would this happen across their lives? Something from centuries past cropping up to haunt them with living nightmares. “No it isn’t,” the words came out sharper than intended and a scowl marred his expression “no it isn’t good. This” he punctuated jabbing a finger at the letter “isn’t fair.” 

The silence that followed was deafening and Arthur’s scowl only deepened the more he looked at the letter.

“Then we burn it. We get rid of it. No letter no message.” It wasn’t that simple. It never was, but he had to suggest it at least. 

Mercy’s eyes drifted to Arthur’s hands, watching the familiar habit with a mixture of fondness and worry. Her thoughts moved in the same vein as his: how many more times would their past come back to haunt them? How many years - how many lifetimes - would they have to live before they were allowed to simply… be? Obviously 400 years didn’t mean that particular quota. 

It wasn’t until Arthur spoke that Mercy looked up again. Her frown deepened, and for just a moment she wanted to explain that she’d meant it was good that he hadn’t received a letter as well. But Mercy knew Arthur was perfectly aware of what she’d meant. So his anger wasn’t surprising. Part of Mercy was even glad for it… needed it even. But only because it solidified what she already knew: that they would find a way through this. Together. 

“No. It’s not.” Mercy’s scowl grew to nearly match Arthur’s as she watched him stare at the letter. 

The suggestion of simply burning the damn thing gave Mercy pause. Had they tried that before? Gods it had been so long ago… But the letter was still sealed. So whatever ‘contract’ lay inside was still inactive. Perhaps with enough of the right sort of fire, they could be shot of it. 

“It’s worth a try,” Mercy said. Though it was never that simple, was it? “We should go home. The firepit on the back porch should work fine.” Mercy stood, knowing Arthur would never be able to concentrate on his marking now, and feeling a wash of guilt - and the stirring of old fears - that couldn’t be helped. “I’m sorry, Ren, I- I thought this was behind me. Behind us.” 

There was something to be said about his tactile nature, a need to always have something on his person to keep his hands occupied and distracted. On the occasions he didn’t have any such object or item to fiddle or fidget, his fingers often sought out other alternatives. Such as his jumper, though it was typically the rotating dial on his iron plated watch. Today in his distraction though the cotton stretched over his fingers as he proceeded to rub his scruff lined chin idly with his thumb. “No,” he agreed, echoing her own words in his contemplation of the scenario, “no it’s not.”

He released the sleeves with a final huff and leaned forwards, snagging the letter and bringing it up to study intensely while Mercy answered. Why couldn’t they burn it? Surely that would be enough. If the letter wasn’t opened. If it simply… ceased to be. Perhaps it would buy them time to figure out what they needed to do in the interim. “Don’t be sorry,” his eyes flickered up from the intense stare he was currently directing towards the letter, the intensity of his expression easing into something softer. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

Without another word his attention returned once again to the thick folded parchment, the wax seal pressed in to hold it shut and the intensity of his focus narrowed to a pinpoint. He imagined each particle of the paper vibrating at an infinite frequency beyond what the eye could see, gradually building in frequency. He thought of the countless firesides the two of them had sat beside, sometimes in jovial jest and others in sorrowful grief, the warmth of drink in their cups and laughter in the air. But each fire began with a spark and he willed that spark to ignite here. To burn the very paper in his hands.

What Arthur failed to notice was the creeping drop in temperature, the heat being drawn forth and consumed, much as stars are crushed in the void of space. Infinite and precise, but where typically a flame would spark, curling the edges of the paper into a burning cinder his brow furrowed. 

Nothing. 

No spark. 

Absolutely nothing. 

There were few things in the world that could unsettle Mercy quite so abruptly as a Black Letter. Once, it had been a means to an end. A way to serve a purpose. A way to put her unique ‘talents’ to good use. Or so she’d thought. So they’d both thought. Arthur had been there too, right alongside her. Looking for something to help make sense out of so many lifetimes come and gone. And they had done good things back then, thievery and subterfuge aside. They had saved lives in keeping what wasn’t meant for humans out of their hands. But the altruism had eventually turned to something else. Something greedy and wicked that she and Arthur had been bound to regardless of their personal feelings. 

But they had fulfilled their contracts centuries ago. The agency was long disbanded, and the other creatures they’d worked with were long dead, barring perhaps a scant few that had been fae or undead. It simply made no sense. 

Mercy was silent again as Arthur picked up the letter. She tensed, expecting something to happen, but the letter remained quiet. Only when his gaze softened as he turned it towards her did some of that tension ease. Her expression followed suit, softening the tightness around her eyes, but she remained standing once their decision had been made. 

She’d seen Arthur do this thousands of times, and it still never ceased to amaze her. Yet in the countless lifetimes they’d spent together, Mercy had never seen him call forth the flames… and fail. Until today. The thought rested on her tongue that perhaps the letter simply couldn’t be burned. That perhaps whoever was sending it knew Arthur was with her and that he would try to destroy the letter. Perhaps it was simply charmed against phoenix fire. 

But Mercy never got the chance. 

The air she sucked into her lungs burned. Not with fire, but with ice. Mercy frowned deeply at the sensation, but it was so sudden and so frigid that it set off a violent coughing spell that left Mercy gasping for air - both hands braced against Arthur’s desk - before her healing factor kicked in. “Arthur, what -” She coughed again, and her breath rose in a white cloud as the temperature continued to drop. “- what’s happening?”

It was sudden and without warning that the snap-frost hit; sucking the very essence of warmth from the room and layering the windows in a thin striated pattern of ice crystals. It was a blast of energy, too much for his body to cope with and where typically he might’ve been able to absorb it at present it was too much. The overload caused a wrack of shivers to shudder through his frame where he sat his senses fried from the force of sudden adjustment.

The soft flutter of paper falling through the air broke the silence, brushing the wooden floor and vanishing under the desk forgotten for the moment and rather unimportant by most accounts in the moment. These strange bouts of power fluctuations had been growing increasingly more sporadic, first around the house but now any attempt to summon a flame practically short-circuited him for several hours at a time leaving him weak and so very cold.

He shuddered unable to support himself even sitting as he was and half slipped out of the chair, a rag-doll without a spine. Dark eyes slipped shut, eyelashes fluttering in sync with the chatter of his teeth and the rattle of his fingers “I- I-” but nothing more came, dissolving in a short cloud of cold breath.

The sluggish attempt of his supernatural constitution did little to help while attempting to pull himself back into the chair, trying to kickstart an engine that had presently flooded itself. All Arthur could groan, in a deep, grating rasp is “fuck.” 

The black letter was all but forgotten as Mercy watched Arthur start to crumple under the magical blowback of whatever had just gone horribly wrong. Her own breath still rose in a white cloud, but her supernatural healing factor was quickly pushing back at the cold. The same should have happened to Arthur, faster than Mercy honestly, but to her horror, it didn’t. 

“Arthur- Woah! Hey…” She bolted around the desk, trying to catch him before he could crack his skull open. He was trembling so badly that for a moment Mercy thought he was having a seizure. “Sshhh, it’s alright… don’t try to talk...” Then his eyes started to close. “No… no, hey. Ren… Hey! Stay awake…” she said, taking his face in her hands. Gods above, but he was so cold. “Just… don’t move, okay? I’ve got you.” 

She held him close, trying to warm him as best she could until whatever the hell this was passed. She tucked his arms beneath her jacket and sweater as best as she could manage with Arthur barely able to help. Then she pressed her palms to the sides of Arthur’s neck, over the great arteries that pulsed just beneath his half-frozen skin, in an attempt to keep the blood flowing to his head warm. She was shivering a bit herself, but she was still far warmer than Arthur. Though for how long?

Having spent the majority of her 1200 years with Arthur, Mercy knew how to care for all manner of things that had afflicted him over the years. But this was a first. So Mercy was at a loss. Other than trying to keep him warm. She would have to call for help if this didn’t let up. But the list of people she trusted was short. It contained two, maybe three people. Thank the gods she’d locked the door earlier. The last thing they needed was someone walking in right now. Arthur groaned, and Mercy rubbed a hand down his back.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked gently, hoping to keep him focused on staying awake if nothing else.  

As a general rule of thumb, Arthur prided himself on his resilience. The ability to withstand bad things when they happened; riding them out until they reached the other side or at least long enough until a semblance of light shone through. Right now there was naught save the bone-deep chill that had shot through his body in an instant. One moment he could recall being sat at the desk and the next he’d felt so tired and then there was a voice. Familiar yet distant.

The hands felt like searing points of heat against his skin; which itself was covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Too hot. It was too hot and frantically he attempted to push her hands away, writhing and fighting between tremors of his muscles. 

Arthur could swear the room was closing in on him, the walls growing increasingly confined and constricting. Or maybe that was just his airway, it was hard to tell in the mounting panic that was sinking into his current state of consciousness. The air rushing in and out, faster and faster until his head began to spin, every frantic blink causing the room to shift first to an office, then a library, a bar and eventually a dark cell. The sudden shock to his system had him scrambling, reaching for whatever was nearest (Frey’s arm if he had any recollection or understanding in his panic).

Each breath felt more laboured than the last, struggling to fill his lungs as he clawed and gasped. Please. Please. Oh Gods make it stop.

Mercy didn’t understand. She didn’t understand any of it. Other than it was all wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. Only the scar on her hand throbbed and flared as it always did when Arthur was in distress, though the fact brought little comfort.  

She didn’t know her touch was hurting him, and could only assume that in his bleariness he was confused and frightened as he seemed to fight against her hold. But then as suddenly as he’d been trying to push her away, something shifted, and he was grasping for purchase instead. His clawing, scrambling hands seeking anything to hold onto, anything that would hold him steady as the world spun out of control and he started to panic. Sucking in lungfuls of air that would never be enough to satiate his shell-shocked body’s desperate need for oxygen. 

“Breathe, Aren…” Mercy said, holding onto him as best she could without making anything worse. “Breathe for me…” She clasped his hands and pressed them to her chest as she spoke, hoping the deliberately slow  rise and fall of her breathing would help him slow his own. “Breathe in…” Inhale. “Breathe out…” Exhale. Mercy would’ve used her power to try and influence his psychological state, but her Fury magic had never affected him. So she didn’t waste her energy. “Breathe in… breathe out… I’ve got you… you’re safe…” Mercy would repeat the mantra as long as she needed to. As long as it took to bring him back to right. 

The panic was instantaneous as shock began to set in, bewilderment at his own sheer inability to control himself. The room dropped several more degrees as Arthur’s body shuddered. He was left gasping to try and draw in much needed air while utterly unable to stabilise its core temperature that was steadily beginning to creep higher and higher steam rising in the cold air of the room before it would plummet just as quickly as a candle being snuffed out. “W-What’s g-going on?” 

In an instant he was plunged into the memories of a similar time of panic, an alternate dreamscape, a different time - in aid of a friend that had ultimately been for naught. For that friend was long since gone. Yet it was a time that he’d felt water for the very first time without pain, only to realise his inability to swim and almost drowned in the process.

So he clawed and grasped at the only anchor that existed in the moment, the only anchor that had ever existed across all of time until with time his mind began to quieten once more and the white noise began to fade into the rhythmic instructions of a familiar voice. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Breathe. 

Several more minutes passed until the room gradually warmed, Arthur’s breathing growing calmer until he could turn his face into her arm. Another full minute came and went before he was wracked with another bout of shivers before weakly attempting to push himself back into a sitting position. “What happened?”

Mercy opened her mouth to tell him… something… anything… that might explain what was happening. But the truth was, Mercy had no idea. As long as they’d known one another, something like this had never happened. Was it the letter? Had trying to burn it caused some… critical disruption of Arthur’s magic? But no… there had been episodes of his powers malfunctioning - for lack of a better term - for a bit now. Whatever it was, it couldn’t continue indefinitely. Mercy’s breath shuddered as the temperature dropped again, but she ignored it. She would be alright, despite the way the cold made the few scars she had ache miserably. As for his question… “We’ll figure it out, I promise… but right now you have to try and breathe, okay?” 

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours until Arthur finally seemed to stabilize. When he was breathing normally again - or as close as he was likely to get at the moment - Mercy fell quiet. She stayed by his side, gently stroking his hair and then pressing a hand to his forehead to check his temperature when he shivered. When he tried to sit up, she gave him a bit of space, but kept a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Again, came his question. This time, Mercy was honest. “I don’t know. You tried to burn the letter, and then...” She frowned, but eventually relayed the short version of what had happened. 

“How d’you feel?” she asked, though it was clear he did not feel great. Not one bit. “Does anything hurt?”

Arthur blinked slowly, his head throbbing with each breath he took to fill his lungs and he rolled his tongue across his teeth, the parchment dry space of his mouth an uncomfortable sensation as he listened to Mercy talk. He wanted a drink and yet the very thought of having anything made him feel like his stomach would turn over on itself. There was little else he could do but sit and try to do as instructed.

“No,” he answered the question after a few moments of silence, his voice cracking when he chose to speak and he had to close his eyes for a moment to fight against the wave of sudden nausea that overcame him. “I-” he shivered again pulling his jacket tighter around his body “cold and sick.” Certainly not fit to stay here, eventually he opened his eyes looking tiredly at Freyja. “can we go home, please?”

Mercy frowned, unable to keep the concern from her expression. That nothing pained him was a small blessing at least. But the fact did nothing for the tight knot of fear that twisted in her gut. Or the helplessness she felt as Arthur shivered, his normally heated skin terrifyingly cold and pale. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him sick or hurt, but this was different. “Of course…” She took off her scarf and tucked it gently around his neck. “Of course we can go home.” 

As she buttoned his jacket so it wouldn’t slip loose, Mercy refused to think about what might happen if he had another episode like this. Or gods forbid… one that was worse. Instead, she turned all her attention to the here and now. To taking Arthur home and making him better. Everything else - the letter, Arthur’s marking, and the growing ache in Mercy’s arm - could wait.

~