#tori's original ideas

[awkward-imp]

"Eloises season should be next" "Francescas season should be next" STOP TRYING TO SKIP OVER BENEDICTS SEASON!!! If I have to wait any longer to see my girl Sophie I WILL start burning down buildings!!

[benvey0]

don't look

[yume-fanfare]

good old-fashioned lover boy

[newestcool]

Tory Burch f/w 2024 rtw Creative Director Tory Burch Fashion Editor/Stylist Brian Molloy Photographer Armando Grillo Newest Cool

[astheskycries]

How would we feel about me returning to writing? 🥺

[auranovabloggers]

Tori Lugosi Tepes

Some gift art I made for my friend Tori of her vampire OC! She doesn't have a Tumblr, but she does have a twitter:

I recommend giving her a look as she makes some incredible art and is quite skilled and full of passion for her hurt. 🥰🦇 I made this gift art on a whim as I wanted to not only practice more, but also because I do like Tori's OC. Bewitching beauty, fangs, and vampire? Yes please, I'll have some of that. 🥺🙏 Was overall an enjoyable experience making this and she was extremely hyped to see this. :3

[daycourtofficial]

Blood moon in Autumn

Pairing: Eris x Rhys’s sister!reader | WC: 1.3k | warnings: mentions of nudity, mentions of sex, mentions of violence

Summary: fae cycles are no joke, but your mate is always there to provide you comfort in the best way possible: by being your personal heating pad

Author’s note: this is part of my gingerfucker series, however this can be read as a standalone. @writingcroissant actually gave me the idea for this so everyone say thanks Tori 🥰

Death was imminent, you were sure of it. Every fiber of your being ached, the pain emanating from your lower abdomen through the rest of your body. It felt like someone was stabbing you with a rusted, dull knife, the blade carving out your insides slowly at their leisure.

You heard your bedroom door open and close, footsteps coming towards the bed. You groan in greeting as the steps get closer.

“Just leave me here to die, Er.”

A soft chuckle makes its way to your ears, despite the layers of blankets you are burrowed beneath, the blankets not offering you the comfort you so desperately crave.

“You’ll be remembered for even in death, your flare for the dramatics never faltered.”

You push your face from the blankets, allowing your face to be seen. You scowl towards your mate, his smirk making you want to push him from the window. You take in the sight of him - he had changed into more relaxed clothes since you saw him last. Gone is his formal jacket, a deep red velvet with golden leaf embroidery. The garment would make anyone look like court royalty, but on Eris it made him look positively radiant, as if the fires of Autumn truly originated from him, as if the apple orchards and the crops found their nutrients from him. You loved when he wore it, your fingers tracing the fine embroidery along the lapel as you would straddle his lap, grinding softly-

You groaned, the idea of moving so much making you nauseous and slightly dizzy.

Now he wore a loose, billowy shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, casual brown trousers covering his toned legs. If it were any other day, you’d devour him. Any other day, you’d pull him directly into bed, pushing his clothes off of him, neither of you leaving bed until you slipped his shirt on to grab the two of you some pastries.

Instead, the sight of him made you slightly annoyed - he seemed fine as he set down a tray on the table next to you. He was fine this morning when he rose, having to tend to some things before returning. You were dying, and he was perfectly fine. You groaned, shifting to sit up on your elbows. “What’s this?”

“I believe those of us who leave our beds call it ‘food’.”

His smirk disappears at the pillow that hits his feet. He sends you a withering glare that just makes you scoff. “That could have hit the tray of coffee I made for you.”

You perked up at the sound of coffee - you were sure the warm liquid would at least distract your insides. Or at least provide you some comfort.

You’d take anything at this point.

“Did you make the coffee? Or did you just prepare the tray?”

“What difference does it make? Coffee is coffee.”

“Well, if Jora made it, then I aimed perfectly for your feet.”

“What if it was my coffee?”

“Then I would have aimed for the tray.”

He gives you a withering stare, his fingers halting their movements. “Now that’s no way to treat your mate who lovingly made you coffee.”

You squint your eyes, “if it’s my mate that’s making the coffee, it’s more of an assassination attempt than love.”

“You wound me, my love.” Despite your grievances, he continues preparing your cup exactly as you like it.

“Is the wound fatal?”

“Perhaps.”

“I shall pay my respects at your funeral, then. With my next husband.”

His eyebrow quirks as he rests the cup on your side table before he rounds the bed, peeling back the layers of blankets on top of you. He crawls in behind you, his body heat causing you to melt.

“Next husband?”

“I will get lonely. Besides, the hounds need a male’s touch. They’ll grow soft under me.”

“And who is this next husband? Is he capable of this?”

Before you can ask what ‘this’ is, he slides his arm around your waist, his palm lying flat over your lower abdomen, his fingers spreading across your skin. Your skin began heating under his touch, and you moaned at the relief he provided you.

“If he’s not, he’s not worth it. Perhaps one of your brothers will be capable. Lu, maybe?”

Eris growled at the teasing, your friendship with Lucien a constant sore spot for him amidst his rekindling relationship with his youngest brother. He hated to admit it, but he seethed with jealousy watching you interact with Lucien, the way your conversation would flow easily.

A life of regrets and Lucien takes several of the top five spots.

“Lucien would make a terrible husband. You’d never see him - he spends all day brushing his hair.”

“I like a well-groomed male.”

“The noises his eye makes would keep you up all night.”

“I think you’re getting us confused. The whirring would soothe me to sleep.”

He buries his face into your neck, mumbling, “you are not marrying Lucien.”

“Alastor, perhaps?”

You clutched onto Eris’s arm, the heat providing you some relief. You nuzzle your head into his bicep, and he blows out a hot breath, “if I die, and you are unable to continue alone, marry outside of my family, leave my brothers out of your marriage pool.”

You open your mouth, but he cuts you off.

“Not Azriel.”

You huff, “well if I can’t have a Vanserra or Azriel, I’ll stay alone forever.”

“I prefer that alternative.”

“I will rule Autumn alone. Just as Beron would have liked.”

You spin in his arms, pushing his shoulder down so he’d lay on his back. You crawl on top of him, laying so every inch of you is touching him in some way. Not an inch of space exists between your bodies. You poke his ribs, urging him to start heating up. He ignores you, so you start tugging on the bond between you two.

“Patience is a virtue, don’t they teach that in the war camps they call villages?”

“I’m dying, I think the Mother can forgive my lack of virtues.”

He huffs, but starts warming his skin to better provide comfort. You groan, laying in silence with him for several moments, the heat a comfort to the constant pain.

A few moments later you roll, your back laying across his chest.

“Ah,” you sigh, the pain in your lower back lessening at his touch.

“You’re spinning like game over a campfire.”

He rests his hands on your lower abdomen, the warmth making the stabbing pain into a dull ache.

You sigh at the contact, practically melting at how he soothes your muscles.

“I want to go bathe but that requires movement and leaving this bed.”

Eris laughs into your hair, but you hear the water running in the bathroom. You groan just thinking about how soothing the water would feel on your joints. You breathed out slowly through your nose, preparing yourself for the trek across the room.

You rolled off of Eris, and before you could get off the bed, Eris moved from behind to in front of you, his feet landing softly on the floor.

“Care for a ride?”

You nod, and his arms sweep you up.

“I think this is my preferred method of travel.”

“Perhaps this is how you will tour Autumn, hm? I shall carry you throughout the lands.”

You laugh as he sets you down, helping you remove your clothes. He must be warming the air somehow, because you don’t feel the chill of the air when your clothes are completely off. He helps you into the water, which you melt into immediately. You close your eyes, laying back in the tub, the porcelain a nice surface to lean against.

You’ve completely forgotten about Eris’ presence until you feel him nudge your shoulders forward, his lean body slipping behind you into the tub. His legs stretch besides yours, and you lean your head back to rest on his shoulder.

“There’s no way my next husband will be as helpful as you are.”

He breathes out through his nose, “I fear you can only marry down from here. A pity, truly.”

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Thanks for reading 💕

[tkwrites]

It Doesn't Matter Part I - Nico Hischier x ofc

Gif from offside-the-lines

Title: It Doesn’t Matter - Part I

Part I | Part II | Part III | Playlist

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Beginning: Nico Hischier x Original female character 

Summary: Nico and Lena have been friends ever since he played in Halifax. When an opportunity of a lifetime brings Lena to New York, Nico offers up his apartment as her home base despite the fact that he’s been painfully, desperately in love with her for the last six years.

Warnings: Slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, talks of masturbation, but nothing is described, Cliff hanger ending (I’m sorry, I had to!)

Word count: 7,300

Anonymous asked: I saw that you rebloged the Nico fic so I have to ask would you ever be open to write for him?, because the combination of your perfect writing and that sweet man, I would die for sure 😂

Comments: A thousand thanks to 🥭 Anon for requesting this fic! Nico has been such a fun, sweet character to write. I’m sorry for the cliffhanger ending, but I envisioned this fic in 3 parts, and this one had to end here. I hope you enjoy it! 

If you liked this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

It Doesn’t Matter - Part I

“You coming to the bar tonight?” Jesper asked. 

“I can’t, I’m helping Lena move in.” 

“Wait,” Jack said, barging his way into their conversation as per usual, “Lena, Lena? Like Lena from Halifax who you’ve been in love with since you were seventeen?” 

Nico felt a blush flood his cheeks as he nodded. 

“Moving in?”

“She’s coming to New York for an art program this year, so I told her she could stay with me.” 

Jack stared at him, one of his eyebrows cocked up. “You’re sure that’s a good idea?” 

Nico shook his head. 

“No it’s not a good idea, or no you’re not sure?” 

He shrugged. Hell if he knew. He was thrilled to have her close by but knew it would likely be torturous at the same time. 

“Who is Lena?”

“She’s this girl he met when he was playing for the Mooseheads,” Jack explained. “You haven’t heard about her? He never shuts up about her.” 

Blushing, Nico tossed an elbow pad in Jack’s direction. 

“Did you stay with her family or something?” 

“No,” Nico said. “She was friends with our goalie.”

“They’ve been besties ever since, and Nico still hasn’t grown the balls to ask her out.” 

Nico glared at him. 

“What?” Jack asked, shrugging. “You haven’t.”

“It’s complicated.”

“What’s so complicated about it? You like her. She’s single. You’re single. What’s the problem?” 

“I don’t…” he broke off. 

Keeping Lena as a friend was more important than the possibility of him spilling his feelings and risking losing her. Plus, he wasn’t totally sure she’d respond the way he wanted, and he was pretty certain he wouldn’t survive it if she turned him down. 

“So, in the meantime, you’re just breaking up with every girl you’ve dated and overlooking every other woman because they don’t measure up, but you won’t ask her out, so you’re just pining full time.” 

It was stunning, really, how he could talk so accurately about other peoples relationships without seeing the flaws in his own. Nico knew from experience not to bring Madeline up. In situations of talking about failure in relationships, Jack could dish all day long, but he could never quite take it if it was served back at him. 

“Betty at 2:00,” Jack murmured. Watching a petite woman with light hair enter the bar. She had a pretty, heart shaped face and big, expressive eyes.

She turned around, laughing at whoever was following her. Despite the fact that he couldn’t hear her, Jack knew her laugh was the kind that made other people want to laugh along.

Instead of the friend he expected, Nico stepped into the bar after her, looking a little punch drunk. 

Jack nearly choked on his beer.

Well, shit. 

If Lena was as funny and sweet as Nico made her out to be, Jack didn’t think he’d be able to move on from her either. 

She said something to Nico, and he tore his gaze from her to look around the bar. Their eyes met, and he raised a hand in greeting. Jack waved back. 

As they made their way closer, Jack realized her hair was actually light pink. And she had a nose ring: a delicate, jeweled thing hanging from her septum. Instead of calling up a resemblance to a hooked bull, like he usually thought those piercings looked, it made her face more lovely and interesting. The dainty diamond rested in the curve of her cupid's bow, emphasizing the shape of her top lip.

Lena felt herself smile upon walking up to the group of hockey players and their partners. She’d grown up with boys like this, and walking up to them was a bit like walking into her childhood. 

“It’s Jack, right?” Lena asked. She’d seen photos of him from Nico and recognized him right away, along with Jesper, who was sitting on his other side.

“In the flesh. You must be Lena,” Jack said, standing up. He shot her a flirtatious, charming smile.

She couldn’t quite hide her eye roll, “he’s just as cheesy as you said,” she whispered to Nico, who was still standing off to her left. 

Shoulders shaking with laughter, Nico pulled out a chair for her before settling into the one beside it.

God, even in this awful club lighting, she looked beautiful. The finer parts of her face were dulled in the dim, but everything he could see made him long for her. 

Maybe Jack was right. Maybe this was a terrible idea.   

“So, Lena,” Jesper said, leaning back in his chair, “what brings you to the city?” 

“I got accepted into an intensive year-long art program at the New York Institute of Art. I’ve been applying for years, and they finally accepted me.” 

“What kind of art do you do?” Dawson asked. 

He’d wandered to the table as soon as they sat down, and Nico was talking himself down from moving to sit between them. Dawson wouldn’t stop looking at Lena like she’d just fallen from the moon, and he wanted nothing more than to fall into her bed. 

“I paint, but I do a lot of charcoal drawings and pastels, too.” 

“Like the colors?” 

She was used to this question and laughed indulgently at the confused expression on his face. “No, pastels are just pigment with a binder. It’s kind of like paint, but they’re not liquid.” 

“She does amazing stuff,” Nico cut in, knowing she wouldn’t brag about her own work. He was happy to do it for her. “She did all the art in my apartment.” 

The first time Lena had visited him, she was aghast at how little was on his walls. It made his whole house look like a hospital - too sterile and characterless. No wonder he was depressed when he wasn’t playing. His home looked like a place made for leaving. 

So she’d painted for him. Ten canvases in total. Most were landscapes, but there was also a small abstract he always suspected was a kind of self portrait and a strange, dark, modern piece - swirls of color chasing each other across the canvas. When he asked about that one, she’d told him his games inspired it - blurs of black and red darting around the ice. 

She’d even done a large landscape of the view from his childhood window, based on a photo he’d sent her several summers before. Rows and rows of misty roofs tucked into the base of the Alps as the mountains loomed over the town. Somehow, she managed to capture the safe, cocooned feeling of home.

Every time he looked at the painting where it hung, taking up nearly the whole wall opposite his bed, it eased some of his homesickness during the long seasons in New Jersey.  

For months, a package he didn’t order would show up at his door, and he’d open it to reveal yet another piece of her to keep with him. 

When the Naters painting arrived, he’d called her practically in tears. She told him she knew he missed home and hoped it would bring a little bit of home to Jersey. 

He forced her to accept repayment for shipping such a large canvas and made her promise to let him pay if she was sending any more. Instead, she’d brought an additional four with her on her next visit.

Dawson looked even more enamored as he said, “that stuff is really good!” 

Nico couldn’t remember Dawson taking any particular interest in the art when he’d been at his house before. Jack had noticed it, which had spurred the conversation about Lena in the first place. 

She offered him a thankful smile that Nico was pleased to see, was void of any flirtation. 

They had a drink a piece before she began to yawn. Nico wasn’t surprised. She’d driven from Halifax to Maine the day before and then from Maine to New Jersey that morning. He’d helped her unload her things before she insisted they come to the kickoff party. 

“I’m really sorry,” she apologized, covering her mouth. 

“You’ve had a long day,” Dawson said, encouraging, “you should go get some sleep.” 

She smiled indulgently at him before standing from the table. She really was exhausted. Plus alcohol always made her sleepy. 

When they got home, Lena asked, “Do you mind if I let cookie out?” 

He shook his head, going to the kitchen to get some water. 

A few minutes later, her light orange tabby cat came skulking into the kitchen, eyeing everything suspiciously. When they made eye contact, Cookie narrowed his eyes as he stalked over. 

After sniffing his socks, he seemed to decide he was the same person he’d always been and rubbed his face on Nicos leg. 

Walking into the kitchen, Lena heard Nico murmuring in German. As always, it made her stomach twist a little. She’d known him for six years, and it wasn’t that she forgot he was from Switzerland so much as she forgot how sexy his voice sounded speaking the language he’d grown up with. Even with her limited understanding of German, she got the distinct impression he sounded more like himself than when he spoke English. 

Rounding the kitchen island, she expected to find him crouched down, talking to one of his siblings on the phone while digging something out of a low drawer. Instead, his phone was nowhere to be found, and he was speaking to Cookie, who had flopped onto his side, happy to be receiving pets. 

“Oh,” she said before she could stop herself. The sight of Nico loving on her cat made her heart thunk into her ribs.

This, right here, is why she originally told him she was staying in the city. 

He had insisted there was no reason she needed to spend the money when he was right across the river. When she’d hesitated, he played his ace, bribing her with Cookie. “You can bring him, and both of you can stay,” he’d said, “you wouldn’t have to leave him with your parents.” 

Even though she knew it would suck to be around him all the time, knowing he didn’t have any interest in her, she’d caved right away.

The problem with Nico was that he was just so damn sweet. He did everything from the bottom of his heart and was genuinely happy to help. As soon as she managed to convince herself she didn’t love him, he would go and do something like insist she stay with him not only for finances, but because she wouldn’t have to leave her cat behind, and feeling would swoop into her heart again.

This was her last undoing for the night. Not only had she watched him carry her things into his apartment, his hockey-hardened body taking the brunt of the weight with ease, she’d had to listen to him laugh and tease while he flashed his dimples at her all day. And now, he was sweet talking her cat in German.

God, how was she going to survive this? 

Nico’s eyes darted up at her noise. He hadn’t heard her come in.  She’d pulled her hair into a bun on the top of her head, but a few of the shorter pieces had escaped, falling around her face. 

Throughout the time he’d known her, her hair had been many different colors. When they met, it had been blonde, then ginger, then purple, then blue. She dyed it back to her natural ashy blonde for a while before going to this pastel pink she’d been maintaining for the last two years. When he asked her why she’d kept it for so long, she said, “I don’t know, it just looks like me.” 

He had to agree. It looked incredible on her, making her skin warm and her hazel eyes bright. 

Wanting yawned in his stomach, and he tore his eyes away before she could see the lovesick expression Jack teased was written all over his face whenever he looked at her. 

“I’m glad to see he’s making himself at home,” Lena said, laughing. 

“He’s sweet,” Nico said, standing. “I thought you’d be in bed.” 

“I wanted to say thanks again,” she said, stepping forward to hug him. 

As his arms wound around her waist, Nico allowed himself a moment of fantasy, imagining she wouldn’t be going to her own room when they turned in for the night. He couldn’t stop his mind from continuing down the fantastical road that living together might be the thing that finally got them from friends over the hill to lovers. 

“I’m happy to have you here,” he said when the fantasy had run its course, and he came back to reality. 

Cookie meowed as if upset at being left out. 

She broke away with a laugh and bent to gather him into her arms. 

“Thank you again,” she said, leaning in to brush a kiss over his cheek.

Nico felt himself go still as stone. He couldn’t remember if she’d ever done that before. 

“G’night.”

“Gute nacht,” he responded, barely holding himself back from waving as his mind was still caught on trying to process the fact that she’d actually kissed him. On the cheek, but still, her lips had been soft and warm, especially against the hard contrast of her nose ring.

He watched her disappear down the hall before he smacked a hand to his forehead. “Gute nacht,” he mocked himself. “You couldn’t think of anything better to say?” 

He was a fool for thinking this was going to work. 

The next thing he had never expected when he invited her to move in came the following morning. 

Lena hadn’t stayed with Nico in his new place before. She couldn’t have. He upgraded to renting the three bedroom apartment in their building when it was finally settled that she would be living with him. That way, he still had a spare room for when family or friends came in town.

The day previous, she’d picked the room closer to his. Had he known — had he thought about it, he would have suggested she take the other one. He could have made up some bullshit excuse about how he didn’t want his snoring to keep her up at night. 

Had he been thinking clearly, he would have noticed that her ensuite bathroom shared a wall with his bedroom. The very wall his headboard sat against. 

As it was now, Lena, always the early riser, was in the shower. Right on the other side of the wall. 

Waking up to the water drumming into the tile, it took him a moment to place the sound. Only when it shifted, quieting and changing rhythm did he realize what was happening - she’d stepped under the water. 

With a sudden jolt, Nico realized that his headboard, some paint, sheetrock, a jumble of studs, and a few dozen white subway tiles were the only things separating him from her naked form. 

The idea of it assaulted his senses until he was half hard and couldn’t think of anything else. 

Cursing, he pulled a pillow over his face and groaned loudly. He couldn’t ask her to move now. He would have to explain why, and he wouldn’t be caught dead telling her he needed her to move because he couldn’t get the image of her naked, water trailing off her hair, dripping onto her breasts and pooling around her feet, out of his mind. 

He groaned into his pillowcase again. 

This went on for a few more minutes before the water changed again, increasing in pressure and beating a staccato rhythm against the tile. A second later, he heard the water shift and change again as well as a gentle thud, as if she’d fallen against the wall. 

Knowing exactly what that meant, he vaulted out of bed, rushing to his own bathroom. He would not jack off to the sound of her in the shower. That was a step too far, but if he let his imagination run, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself.  He’d thought of her many, many times while getting himself off over the years, but doing it while she was in his house, very likely getting herself off, felt like a step too far. 

Cold water shocked him back into his senses, and he didn’t let himself think about it anymore. 

Lena stepped out of the shower, feeling much better. Not only did she feel more rested, she was finally able to release some of the sexual frustration that had settled on her like a heavy blanket since arriving. She would have done it the night before, but showering was always part of her morning routine, and in the rush of moving and getting to the bar to meet Nicos team mates, she hadn’t fully unpacked, and couldn’t find her vibrator. She’d tried with her fingers, but it just didn’t work the same way. When she finally fell asleep, she was still feeling frustrated and needy. 

After dressing and putting some dry shampoo in her hair, she walked into the kitchen only to find Nico scooping freshly ground coffee beans into the coffee maker, wearing nothing more than a towel. His hair was still wet, and she watched a rivulet of water wind its way down his back, all the way to the dimples at the base of his spine. Wanting sparked to life between her thighs again. So much for easing the sexual frustration. 

“Morning,” she made herself say, refusing to be the creepy one watching him shirtless, core throbbing at the thought of him. 

Nico jumped, and his hand snagged the towel around his waist before it fell. He thought he had more time. He wouldn’t have come out here in only a towel if he thought she would be out soon. He just wanted to have coffee made for her. 

“I thought you were still in the shower,” he said by way of explanation. 

“How did you know I was in the shower?” 

“It’s right on the other side of my bedroom wall,” he informed her, trying to keep the guilt out of his voice. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckety fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Oh,” she said, hoping beyond hope the sound of the water had drowned out the accidental, desperate way she’d moaned his name when her climax finally hit. 

She had to find her vibrator. Maybe she’d pick one up in the city, just in case. She couldn’t be getting herself off in the shower anymore. There was no way. Absolutely no way. Knowing he was on the other side of the wall would shrivel her sex drive like a dried out bean pod. There was no way she could get off to thinking about him, knowing he might be able to hear her, and then she would just be even more frustrated. It didn’t matter if she might find her vibrator unpacking later that day, she decided, she was getting one in the city. Better safe than sorry.

Pushing that idea away to think about later, she accepted the mug of coffee he held out to her. 

“Oat milk, right?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from her showers proximity to his bed. “I found this pistachio kind I thought you might like,” he said, rifling in the fridge with one hand, the other still clasping his towel. He needed to pull it tighter but couldn’t with her in the room. At least the cool air was calming his flushed cheeks.

And just like that, the sweetness that was Nico Hischier burrowed its way into her heart again, easing some of the lust back into love. It was incredible how being seen made her feel. Not only with eyes but with words and actions to follow them up. 

No wonder every man she’d dated in the last six years paled in comparison. Nico set an impossible standard for other men to meet. 

And that wasn’t even taking into account the fact that he had the body of a god and the most empathetic, earnest brown eyes she’d ever seen. 

They never even stood a chance.

He found the creamer he’d picked up the last time he was at the grocery. Lena loved all things pistachio, and when he’d seen the non-dairy creamer, he’d automatically put it in his basket for her to try once she got here.

When he turned to her, he had to push away thoughts of kissing her that often came up when he saw her smile the way she was now.

Setting the creamer down, he mumbled, “I’ll be right back,” before practically running to his bedroom. He threw on some shorts and a T-shirt. Coming back in, he found her sitting at the table, looking at her phone as she lifted the coffee mug to her lips. 

“What are you up to today?” 

“I’m going into the city. Find the best subway route to the academy, find my classes, that kind of thing.” Her courses didn’t start for another few days, but Lena knew she would feel better having explored first. 

“If you can wait till I’m done with practice, I can come with you,” he offered. 

Even as he kept his expression neutral, she could hear the undertone of unease in his voice. 

“Nico, I’m going to be going out there by myself every day.”

“But you don’t have to do it alone the first time.”

It wasn’t like he knew the way any better. Lena knew for a fact that he didn’t take to wandering around the city for fun, and if he did, he drove in or took an Uber. Plus, she wouldn’t be able to get her vibrator if he came with her. She didn’t like thinking about the pity she’d find in his face at her inability to find a man to fulfill those needs for her.

“It’s not the first time. I’ve lived in the city before.” 

“For three months when you were twenty,” he reminded. 

“Exactly. It’s not my first rodeo.” 

He never understood that expression. He’d seen a rodeo, and it didn’t seem like the kind of thing someone could grasp after doing it once. It was just another American idiom that always went over his head.

“Nico, I’ll be fine,” she said when he didn’t respond. “I have you on speed dial if I get stuck somewhere, okay?” 

Biting his lip, he tamped down the overprotectiveness rearing up inside him. Lena was smart. She didn’t get herself into trouble. But she was also so pretty, and some men were dogs. 

The look on her face, defiant and determined told him exactly how this was going to end. 

“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “But you’ll call me if you get lost?”

“Yes. I’ll call you if anything comes up.” 

Nico threw himself into practice. Hockey always managed to clear his mind when he was stressed. Even the sound of it - skates scraping the ice, pucks thwacking into sticks and the simpleness of communication - made everything else slip into focus. He didn’t have to worry about being an idiot or saying the wrong thing. He demanded the puck when he needed it and tried to get it into the net. 

Practice was a reprieve from the stress of life. Of all life, all the time. But especially then with Lena in his house. He could skate her out of his mind and focus on simpler things. 

Jonas came up to his stall as he was getting out of his gear. 

“Can I still come get my box?” 

It took a moment for Nico to remember. He’d had left his gaming console at his house a few days ago. “Yeah.” 

When they walked into the house, he found Cookie, right at home, stretched out over the back of the sofa in a sunbeam. 

“Since when do you have a cat? I didn’t think you liked cats.” Jonas asked. 

“He’s Lenas,” Nico corrected. Jonas raised an eyebrow, which Nico chose to ignore. “And I don’t dislike cats. Cookie is sweet.”

“Cookie?” he repeated. “She named her cat Cookie?” 

“Apparently she had a stuffed animal that looked like him named Cookie when she was little,” he explained with a shrug, trailing a hand over the cats silky fur. 

Cookie trilled at him and arched his back for more pets.

The door opened behind them, and Lena herself walked into the apartment, flushed from her walk from the station in the cool autumn air.

Nico tore his eyes away from her before Jonas could give him another raised eyebrow at the look he knew was all over his face.

“Hey, Lena,” Jonas greeted. 

“Hey Jonas,” she said with a big smile, giving him a hug. “It’s good to see you.” 

They’d met in Switzerland a few months before when Lena had come after a trip to Italy with some friends. Her friends had gone home, and she’d caught a train to Bern to spend a few days with him before she had to get back to Canada. It was then that he’d learned about her acceptance into the academy and suggested she should stay with him. 

After she went out and about with Nina, and he finished with training, they had all gone out for dinner and drinks at his favorite place, Tramdepot. Jonas’s girlfriend, Nola, was out of town, and had Nico not known she existed and that Jonas was head over heels for her, he would have been sorely tempted to end the night early so he and Lena would have to stop talking. 

“You can’t be jealous if you’re never going to ask her out,” Nina had admonished him on the way home.

Knowing Lena didn’t speak German allowed him to be open and honest with his sister, even as Lena walked in front of them. 

“She doesn’t date hockey players.” 

Nina gave him a wry look, “she told you that?” 

“No, she told her friend, Jessica. I overheard them.” 

“What exactly did she say?” Nina asked.

“She said, ‘I don’t date hockey players.’ And then Jessica asked, ‘what about Nico?’” 

“And she said?” Nina prompted.

“She said it doesn’t matter.” 

“I think you should still talk to her.” 

“She said it doesn’t matter, Nina,” he said, and there had been an embarrassing amount of whining pain in his voice. 

Nina bit her lip, glancing at Lena, who was walking next to Jonas, asking something about the architecture. 

“I can’t —” his voice had almost broken, “I can’t.” He couldn’t even get the words out. 

He was in love with Lena. He knew that. And it was wonderful and painful and awful all at the same time. But the thought of asking her and having her say no - the thought of asking her and it changing their friendship forever? That was worse than the bitter, lovely pain of being in unrequited love. The idea of losing her was worse than knowing he would never have her in that way. 

“Well, I should get going,” Jonas said, gesturing with the playstation and bringing Nico back to the present.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Lena said, offering him another hug.

After Jonas left, Nico followed her to her room, leaning in the doorway. There were still boxes around, and he noticed a pile of clothes on the floor that she'd obviously pulled out of a box in search of her outfit for the day. He willed his eyes to skip over something lacy and green.

“How was it?” 

“Fine,” she said, setting her tote bag carefully on the bed, making sure it wouldn’t tip over. On top of the vibrator, she’d bought lingerie. Not that she had anyone to wear it for. But the pink set had been on display and matched her hair. She’d asked to try it on on a whim and found she couldn’t leave it behind. Even if it was just for herself, the lace and mesh balconette bra and matching panties made her feel pretty and sexy. So what if no one else ever saw them? She’d know they were there, and that was enough. 

All the same, she didn’t want Nico to see it. The thought of him knowing she’d bought lingerie when he knew she didn’t have anyone to show it off for made heat race to the surface of her skin.  

When it wouldn’t stay upright, she tipped the bag gently, resting it against her pillows so nothing would spill out. 

“Just fine?” he asked, worry edging into his tone. 

“It was good,” she said, turning around. “I found everything fine. I only went three stops in the wrong direction once. My advisor seems nice, and all my classes are right in the academy, so I won’t get lost.” Walking from the room, she changed the subject, “how was practice?” 

“Good,” he dragged a hand down his face, “I think we’re finally starting to gel as a team.” 

“That’s great, Nico.” 

“I hope it comes together before we head to Carolina.” 

“I’m sure it will. If you’re already seeing that now, it’ll only get better in a week, right?” 

He smiled, glad to have her sweet reassurance around. Though she never played hockey - “You would not want to see me on skates. I’m the most uncoordinated disaster of a baby gazelle you’ve ever seen.” - she’d grown up with siblings and friends who play and had a thorough understanding of the game and what it took to win. 

That first month living with her was an awkward dance. When his first road trip came around, it was a relief to get away. He could finally breathe easy, not worried about turning any corner to find her being unassumingly lovely in some new area of the apartment.

But by the second night away, he found himself missing her and missing their evening routine of sipping tea while watching TV. She never complained when he pulled up one of his brothers games or something else Swiss as long as the subtitles were on, and he’d gotten way too sucked in to the ridiculous reality TV show she loved about couples living in a villa together, searching for love. 

That second night, when missing her had settled into his chest in a way he hadn’t yet experienced, he almost turned it on for he and Jonas to watch before bed, just to get some comfort of home back. Instead, he’d tossed the remote to Jonas. Lena said she’d wait to watch it with him when he came back, and he didn’t want to let her down. Plus, he wasn’t totally sure he wanted Jonas knowing he enjoyed such trashy shit.

He missed the steadiness of her presence. He’d gotten so used to living alone, he’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone else in the house. She was always there if he needed a little comfort, offering a hug or a listening ear, or a back rub. 

After he got home, they fell into a comfortable routine, weaving in and out of each other's lives. They would have coffee at the start of each day before she left for classes, and he left for practice. 

In the afternoon, she worked on her art in the living room, and he liked to watch her paint or draw, silhouetted against the large window, if she was still there after he’d taken his nap. 

She cooked dinner most nights. She wasn’t a chef by any means, but she enjoyed cooking, and he was always appreciative, even when something was burned. Plus, she owed him. The money he saved her by not having to pay for housing for a year wasn’t insubstantial. Cooking was a small way she could pay him back on the few nights he was home each week. She’d even made his favorite meal the day after a hard loss. 

He gave her the cold he caught on their second trip. Something, he was sure, he got from Haula’s kids, and they were miserable together for a few days. He woke to her showering in the middle of the night more than once as she tried to clear her sinuses. 

When Halloween came around, he asked if she wanted to go to the team party with him. It was the first time since he’d come to New Jersey he didn’t have to come up with a costume by himself or do something with one of his teammates. He’d had girlfriends before, most of them from Switzerland, but no one who was able to make it to the party.

They spent one of his off weekends figuring out what to wear. Lena was worried about giving people the wrong idea and shot down most of the suggestions that came up on her web search as they were all suited for couples. 

Every time someone asked how long they had been dating, it was like being jabbed with a hot poker; pointing out everything she wanted but didn’t have. 

In the end, they decided to go as people who had been stranded in the desert. She panted their cheeks to look sunburned and put dyed baby powder in their hair and eyebrows to mimic sand. They wore ripped, tan clothing and carried empty canteens. 

When she’d come out of her room, he swore his heart nearly stopped upon seeing the open, artfully dirty button up shirt she wore tied over a tan colored bra. He’d seen her in a swimsuit before, so in theory, he’d seen this much of her skin, but this seemed more intimate than a bathing suit. 

It sparked a new wave of longing in him. 

More than once, Jack gave him an exasperated look when he caught Nico staring at her as she talked with the WAGs. He was obsessing over all the little details of her costume. The way one of her shredded khaki pant legs was higher than the other, showing the tattoo of a paintbrush crossed with a pencil on the inside of her right ankle, the stripe of her smooth low back visible between her shirt and pants, and of course, the flash of her cleavage anytime she turned toward him. 

“You’re gonna have to make it happen, man,” he said, passing by to get another drink. 

It took almost six weeks, but he got used to her fresh faced beauty being around all the time. It didn’t dull necessarily, but like living in a beautiful place, eventually, the beauty fades into the background until the lighting changes and everything is suddenly new and breathtaking again. While she was around all the time, it grew easier for him to push aside. 

On a Saturday in early November, he came home from practice to hear her humming somewhere in the apartment. She wasn’t in the living room - in fact, her drop cloth and easel hadn’t even been set up. 

Opening his mouth to call for her, his greeting died in his throat when he walked into the kitchen. She was in a tight, pink t-shirt, a matching pair of little boy short underwear and nothing else. His eyes were immediately drawn to the round swells of her ass peeking out from under the material. 

He couldn’t look away. Even knowing he should say something, so she didn’t think he was just creepily watching her didn’t help him. 

Forget looking like a creep. He was never forgetting this as long as he lived. 

Lena turned around and jumped. Nico was standing in the kitchen doorway, mouth slightly agape. He’d been quiet as a mouse, and the shock of his sudden appearance sent her sandwich diving off the plate. It opened on its descent and splatted onto the dark tile, meat and condiment side down - because, of course, it did. 

She swore, and it snapped Nico out of his reverie. He dropped to his knees to help clean it up.

As she knelt next to him with a wet rag to wipe the butter off the tile, her bare knee slid into his field of vision.

“I’m sorry I didn't say anything,” he said emphatically, feeling himself blush as he kept his eyes trained on the floor so they wouldn’t travel up the creamy expanse of her thigh.

Shaking her head, Lena stood, hoping he didn’t notice she’d practically turned the same shade as her shirt, “I’m sorry about this,” she said, gesturing to her legs. Of course he had to come home when she wasn’t wearing any pants. The shirt and panties had arrived that morning, and she had been trying them on when she decided to make a sandwich.

Nico looked up and felt his jaw go slack. Somehow, he managed to keep it from falling open. He could clearly see the slope of her breasts and a stripe of her stomach where the shirt didn't quite reach her underwear. He inexplicably wanted to bite the curve of her inner thigh.

He could only blink several times before he managed to look away. Made new in the harsh light of the kitchen, wanting her took over his thoughts, turning him into a bumbling idiot once again.

God, what wouldn’t he give to worship her any way she would let him?

“I didn’t think you were coming home until later. I would have put on pants.”

The fact that she apparently often didn’t wear pants when he wasn’t home burrowed into his brain to torture him later. 

He managed to make some kind of noncommittal noise and stood up. 

Lena scurried to her room, grateful that, at least, she had this new set on, and not a pair of ratty old undies.

She wished she could forget the shocked look on his face when he looked up at her from his knees. She’d envisioned him on his knees before her so many times, but none of those fantasies involved him staring open mouthed at her thighs. 

A week later, as they were watching Love Island, Lena asked a question she never thought she would have to.

“When’s your next night off at home?” 

Nico pulled up his calendar app, and flipped through the days, “Thursday.” 

“Oh.”

“What’s up?” he asked, setting his phone on the side table. 

“I…” Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip. 

“What?” he asked, feeling nervous. She was going to tell him she started dating someone, wasn’t she? That she’d met someone while he’d been out of town. The prospect of it roiled in his stomach.

“I thought I had more time,” she said. 

His fantasized dilemma fractured a little. “More time for what?” 

She took in a calming, deep breath, looking up at the ceiling so she didn’t have to look at his face when she said it. “I need to — I need to do a nude study for my figure class.” 

“So? You’ve done nude studies before,” he reminded, thinking about the sketches he’d seen in her portfolio. Part of this intensive training was figure drawing, which he knew she didn’t enjoy, but everything he’d seen looked near perfect to him. Smooth, curved lines, and strong, handsome faces. He didn’t understand what she was so worried about. 

 Professor Brown’s consistent feedback was that her drawings looked too one dimensional, that she wasn’t capturing the living essence of her subjects. She assured the class that, though it would be awkward, their art would be better when they could no longer pretend the person in front of them was a sculpture. The surefire way to do that? Take away the emotional distance between the artist and their model.

“Yeah, but those were with people I’d never met. My professor wants us to do a study with someone we know…preferably of the opposite gender. She said it would make the art more intimate.” Daring to meet his eyes, Lena felt a blush scorch her skin.

Understanding sparked in his face, and she watched his eyes widen. 

“You want me to be your nude model?” 

She licked her lips, “I thought about asking Jesper to do it, but that didn’t seem right.” 

“Why Jes?” he asked, barely keeping the flair of emotion out of his voice. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. Not only was his love for her unrequited, she would be more comfortable sketching one of his teammates. One of his engaged teammates.

“I don’t know. I feel like he wouldn’t be weird about it since the swedes are always so,” she gestured to her own body, “open. But it felt too… intimate when he has Nicole and we’re…us,” she finished lamely, finally daring to look into his face. 

His heart leapt into his throat. 

We’re us? What did that mean? What was us? They were friends? She wanted something more than friendship? Hope reignited in his chest for the millionth time.

He cleared his throat, hoping she couldn’t hear his heart hammering. “What would -” he had to pause to clear his throat again. “What would it involve?” 

“You’d just need to sit or stand for a few hours while I do some sketches.”

“Naked?” he asked, his voice squeaking over the word despite his attempts to stay cool, “or could I wear my boxers?” 

“I need to turn in six sketches, but at least half of them need to be nude, so you would only need to be naked for part of it.” 

He didn’t respond right away, trying to sort out and understand his own racing thoughts.

She nibbled at her lip, “I know it’s kind of a lot to ask.” 

There were so many reasons he wanted to say no, but despite all that, Nico still found himself nodding. He could never say no to her, even if it meant he had to pose naked for her to sketch. 

She felt her cheeks flush again. The thought of seeing him this way had nixed the idea of Jesper from her mind. She didn’t want to sketch his thighs, even if it would be less awkward than sketching Nico. She might never get the chance to see him naked in a romantic setting, so, selfishly, she was seizing the opportunity while she had it. 

“Has to be Thursday?” he asked. 

“Well, sometime in the next week,” she said. “If you’re not comfortable with it, I can ask Jesper.”

“It’s not that,” he said. Too quick, too desperate. If she asked Jesper, it would get around the locker room like wildfire that she’d asked him instead of Nico and on top of not wanting to let her down, he couldn’t take the chirping that would come from that. “It’s just fast.” 

“Do you have another day off?” 

He swiped through his calendar again and shook his head. “We leave for six days after the game on Friday.” 

Her lips pursed together. The flush that was glowing on her cheeks made him smile. At least she was just as nervous as he was. 

“Do you need me to do anything before? Shave or…anything?” he asked, gesturing to his chest.

She hadn't even thought about it. From what she remembered, Nico didn't have a huge amount of chest hair anyway.

She'd known going into this conversation that it would end with at least a fifty percent chance he’d say yes, but when he asked about shaving, it struck her suddenly and completely that she really was about to see him naked.

“Nothing you wouldn’t normally do,” she squeaked.

Nico felt himself smile. If she was going to be this flustered the whole time, maybe this wouldn’t be half bad. 

It Doesn't Matter:

Part I | Part II | Part III | Playlist

To read all my fics, check out my Fanfiction Masterlist

[erenqueef]

𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨★𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐨

warnings: mature content! - smut

𝒻ℯ𝓂 𝓇ℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝓇

title: truth or dare

(this was originally uploaded on wattpad)

(play: in for it-tory lanez)

"i win." he sits back in his seat across from you.

you huff and cross your arms. "this isn't fair!"

"i won fair and square, sense you keep losing why don't we just play something else?"

"fine. i have an idea." you smirk and lean in closer, resting your elbows on your knees. "let's play truth or dare."

how the hell did a simple innocent game of truth or dare lead you to be straddling his lap? with his breathless lips against yours after kissing you eagerly, he smirks, his eyes meeting yours after a few seconds

"your turn, ask me."

"truth or dare?" you grin.

"hm, dare."

"i dare you.." you think for a moment, humming. "to let me have full control of you for the rest of the night."

he roles his eyes with a smirk, running his hands down your sides. "fine, go ahead."

you stand up and pull him with you, leading him to where the couch was. you push him back and straddle his lap again. "much more comfortable right?"

he nods. "what are you gonna do to me y/n?"

you lean closer, wiggling your hips against his lap as if you were adjusting yourself. "do you wanna find out?"

he places his hands on your sides again just for you to take them off and intertwine your fingers with them, then pinning them on the couch board behind him. "should i be scared?" he smirks.

"maybe," you lean in and kiss the side of his neck, a soft breath of relief escaping his lips as you gently bite down.

he tightens his grip on your hands when you start to suck his flesh harshly. "y/n.." he tilts his head back to give you more access. "i'm.." he bucks his hips up, signaling you he's hard.

you smirk against his skin before backing your head away from his neck to look into his eyes. "god and i didn't even start prepping yet."

his face flushes, his thighs twitching with need beneath you. "whatever your gonna do to me y/n, i need it now."

"patients choso, i never expected you of all people to be impatient.."

"can you really blame me y/n?"

you smile, hopping off of him and kneeling between his legs. "i want you to call me something else." you tell him as you palm his erection through his pants.

he whines, his cock twitching as you teasingly rub it. "w-what would you like me to call you?"

"something fun," you chuckle. "use that big brain of yours."

"um, goddess? mistress?"

you smile, you have him wrapped around your finger. "yes that one, now take your shirt off."

he obeys and strips his shirt off. his upper body is sculpted perfectly. you can only imagine what the lower half looks like.

your eyes scan each ab, his perky nipples, before looking back into his eyes. you stand up and lean forward, placing your hands on his thighs and pressing your lips against his again, he lets out a breath and places his hands around your neck.

you break the kiss and grab his hands, ripping them away from their grip. "when are you gonna learn?" you sign, unbuckling your belt and tying his hands together in front of him. "there we go." you smirk before lifting his arms over his head, moving them out of the way as you lean in and kiss his chest, leaving a trail of kisses to his nipple, your tongue teases it and your eyes beam through his.

"god," he tosses his head back. "your driving me crazy."

you grin before sinking back down on your knees, you spread his legs apart before stripping his pants off. he was wearing no underwear.

your eyes look back up to his with a hungry grin before looking down at his cock, his pretty pink tip made it so tempting to lick.

"hot in here hm?" you strip your shirt off and toss it over his face, he quickly moves it off and look at you again. "exactly how do you want me to please you?"

his eyes flick between your eyes and your perfect tits that we're begging to be freed from your bra. "i don't care, however you think i deserve it mistress.."

without warning your tongue trails up his member, he gasps before biting his bottom lip, holding back his moans.

you look up at him, his face flushed and his eyes lidded, lips parted and wet from your earlier kiss. you start to stroke his cock, half of his tip being covered with skin with each stroke, his hips slightly bucking into your palm as he begins to get more needy. you get up and sit next to him, your hand still stroking his cock as you lean closer. "let me do the work." you whisper.

"sorry, fuck. i just need you." he whimpers.

"how bad?"

"so fucking bad.. can you go faster?"

you purposely slow down. "no, i don't think i will."

he grunts in frustration. "your evil."

you chuckle before leaning down and licking his pretty tip, his desperate moans filling the room as you start bobbing your head, you feel him tense up beneath you but you slow down each time, causing him to become more and more sexually frustrated.

you go back to stroking him, his body suddenly craving your mouth again.

"please," he whines begging for relase. his

voice desperately needy for you.

"patients choso," you grin. "i told you not yet

didnt i?" you pump your hand faster just to spite him, his thighs twitching and his hips bucking into your palm.

"i cant hold back anymore.." he moans as he

arches his back slightly, his cock twitching beneath your touch. "please let me cum mistress."

"i said-" before you could even form a sentence

he grabs your head with his tied hands and opens your mouth by shoving his thumbs inside, causing you to confusingly open your mouth. and before you realized what he was doing your lips were around his length, his fingers gripping your messy ponytail as he pushes your face all seven inches down. you taste his salty release on your taste buds and feel it shoot down your throat.

"now swallow it like a good girl."

your eyes widen, you weren't expecting this at all. but you swallow, every drop. wiping your lips with the back of your hand, looking back up to him again.

"now open your mouth, let me see that you swallowed it all." he demands, but. yet his tone was more on the asking side.

you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, he stares at the sight, leaning in and pressing his tongue against yours as he begins to swirl it around yours, he moans into your mouth as he starts to stroke himself again, you grab his throat and push him away from your lips, you look down and see him jerking himself off with both of his tied hands.

"oh you want more?" you grin, he responds with a nod, his hands not slowing for a second.

you stand up and strip your cloths off, leaving you naked for him. his movements speed up as he looks over your body, he starts grunting as you teasingly play with your breasts.

"come here please.." he whispers. you step closer and straddle his lap, he rubs his cock against your warm folds. "shit,"

"go ahead, put it inside."

he gladly obeys by wrapping his hands over your neck and thrusting his cock deep inside you, pressing his lips against yours, you let out a muffled yelp.

"your so tight.." he moans. "i cant hold it back y/n.."

"you better fucking hold it back." you demand before grabbing his throat and squeezing it.

his movements get sloppy, his moans getting messier. "please.. please let me cum inside you mistress!"

you give his cheek a light slap. "i said hold back."

"ah fuckkk.." he whines. "please.. please let me cum. im begging you y/n for god sake please."

"your so fucking desperate for release. hold it back." your grip on his throat tightens.

"fuck!" he yelps, thrusting faster and harder into you, causing you to moan too.

"not yet.." you moan, at this point you didn't care, you were close too.

"im so close please.. please mistress."

"cum with me. ah!" you squeeze your eyes shut, your right on the edge.

"okay, okay mistress ready? im.." he lets out a long moan as he holds you tightly to his body. "gonna.."

"fuck choso," you bury your face into his shoulder, your walls tightening around his cock as he dumps his hot load inside you.

"mistress..." he whines, his thrust becoming shallow and slow.

"fuck," your body goes limp against his, both of you heavily breathing. "fuck."

"so." he pants. "truth or dare?"

★

[animation-is-my-jam]

(Wakes up) WAH-oh yeah, I can post anything here. Okey, tehe (0v0)/ Ha, yes, Jam's infamous just dump art I've made over the past months I've only ever posted on Discord, but now it's Tumblr turn. The usual drill of Wordgirl stuff and AUs/Ocs.

(Becky, Tobey, Tori, Luis, Matilda)

The McCallister-Botsford family. It's funny how much this Future AU/domestic older Tobecky stuff is my biggest fixation, but I never draw this family together. Yeah, that changed now!

(Designs for a Becky and Tobey in this AU)

An idea of an AU I had where Wordgirl never crawled into Huggy's spaceship, so she stayed on Lexicon while he still crashed. Mr. Big took over bc there was no hero (a World Without Wordgirl scenario), and Becky technically doesn't exist. I have a doc explaining more of this AU, and maybe I'll post it if anyone is curious.

Ha! Valentine's Day drawing I did and posted everywhere but here. Sorry yall get it late.

(Magic Pony (Penelope), Pretty Princess (Phoebe), and Pearl Pup).

I love just expanding Pretty Princess more than it should bc I'm fixated of a show within a show. So here's me going crazy in the reboot idea lmao.

Wanted to draw something for this, and I helped with a friend in organizing any original characters we had that are Palestinian and draw art in support, and I immediately thought of Mason and Safa, my Wordgirl OCs. Was used for her college project on the topic of new age social media activism.

(Mari (young) and Lux Jose).

Mari. My interpretation of Wordgirl's biological mother. She's sorta my personal blorbo. Most used in Future AU where I give her backstory.

Luis expression sheet. The second McCallister-Botsford child, my beloathed. He sucks but I love my son or rather their son? Anyway, I tried in expressions and a second attempt at his older teen design bc I hated it...still kinda do/lh.

[mixelation]

wait here's a different way the end of the chunin exams in iwa could go

team 4 still does the same stuff: iwa grabs kushina, kushina yeets tori away. tori runs off to get itachi and deidara; the team then splits up to grab both kushina and ibiki. rn i'm thinking tori-deidara go for ibiki. tori wants to go to kushina but itachi is like "no, you're the ONLY one who can do the transportation jutsu for our mission" so the compromise is he goes after kushina. deidara ends up with tori because she needs extra muscle more, even though deidara would be better at FINDING kushina bc he knows iwa better. instead he just sort of points itachi in a direction.

tori by herself can do the transportation jutsu but it will be rougher when executed solo. she deems ibiki's physical condition too poor to risk it. they get him on a bird and fly out.

okay, so, my original idea was itachi finds a half-conscious kushina and gets her out of the village on foot. this is an insane feat he accomplishes with "massive genjutsu means no one notices for a hot second" no jutsu. iwa eventually realizes they've lost their very impotant hostage, which means they are screwed. they decide to blow up the problem to hide evidence (this will look BAD for them but no evidence means they can claim team 4 started it, which is less bad PR than what they actually did getting out). team 4 gets a fight, kushina recovers quickly enough itachi is like what the fuck, ma'am, and they flee into the night safe and sound.

i think i will keep this as ""canon"" bc it lets team 4 have thier moments. but here's a fun little alt au ending feat. minato:

okay, so, in the minato one shot we see kushina summon chains that aren't attached to her body. so i was thinking it'd be cute if minato had a necklace or bracelet made from one of her chains. it's also a ~kushina's health~ indicator: the chain with break/evaporate if she runs low on chakra (which would ONLY happen in a dire situation), or she can undo it herself if she needs to summon him. remember, her jinchuriki seal has a hiraishin integrated into it, so minato can go to her whenever he wants. minato spends a lot of time fiddle with his chain and sighing wistfully when she's out of the village.

then one day, the chain breaks. minato doesn't even think about it; he's by her side 0.2 seconds later. and then.... fuck it i just wrote it lol

****

Kushina was slumped over Uchiha Itachi’s shoulders. Itachi retaliated the second he felt a presence behind him. Minato dispelled all three layers of the genjutsu, knocked the short sword out of his hand, picked up his wife, and shoved Itachi away.  

His goal was to get Itachi away from him for long enough to orient himself. If he’d bothered to watch him, he’d get to watch Itachi’s reaction to being pushed around like a child: confusion mixed with a little bit of terror.

Sagged over in his arms, Kushina’s eyes were unfocused and her face was clammy with a cold sweat. He’d never seen her like this before. 

“M’nato?” she slurred, and Minato felt a wave of relief at the sound of her voice. “Feel like shit.”

If she was talking, she was going to be okay. Minato shifted her, pulling her into a princess carry. Kushina’s head rolled against his chest, and Minato felt a stab of worry. Kushina was a live, but what the fuck had they done to her?

“Hokage-sama?” Itachi asked, voice wary. He had not moved to retrieve his sword. He didn’t need it; all five Iwa-nin in the room were already dead. Minato must have crashed his rescue attempt. 

“You have permission to approach,” Minato told him. “What happened?”

Itachi gave him the succintest of summaries: Kushina and Tori had been intercepted while attempting to retrieve Morino Ibiki. Kushina had gotten Tori out, and Tori had gone for back-up. Itachi had then found Kushina here, in an underground detention facility. Tori reported Kushina as having chakra-poisoning. It was unclear if Iwa suspected them of their own betrayal of their agreement, or if their attack had unrelated motives. Minato thought the latter: there was only one known chakra toxin that could poison someone enough to take out someone like Kushina, and it was extremely difficult to synthesize. This had been planned. 

Minato felt a flash of rage. All that posturing about how he was the dangerous one, how he was the one who might unjustly destroy Iwa’s security, and this is what they did? 

“Okay,” Minato said, very carefully keeping his voice level. “I’ll handle it.”

“Sir?” Itachi replied. “Handle which part?”

“Hold this,” Minato said, and handed him a kunai. 

Minato teleported Kushina back to Konoha and left her with a medic. “Fuck ‘em up, dawling,” she told him, patting a random part of his face. Then he stopped briefly at home to grab weapons. Then, approximately three minutes after he’d left him, he went back to Itachi. 

Itachi, for once in his life, seemed to be at a loss for words. 

“Do you know how to get out of here?” Minato asked. 

Itachi led him down a hallway, up some stairs, and then down another hallway, passing zoned out Iwa-nin after Iwa-nin staring at the walls or passed out on the floor in the wake of Itachi’s genjutsu. Minato paused a couple times to draw Hiraishin markers, just in case. Itachi waited for him without comment. 

“Do you know which way the Tsuchikage’s office is?” Minato asked once they were on the ground floor and he could see sunlight through a window. “I’d like to talk to him.”

“I believe it’s towards the mountains,” Itachi said, “although he might be overseeing events related to the exam.”

Minato hummed.

“What would you like me to do?” Itachi asked when they reached the front doors of the building.

“Go find your team, please,” Minato told him. “Keep that kunai on you.”

Minato tossed a kunai out the door, and then he was off. 

Iwa was prettier than Minato thought it would be. Red mountains towered above them, and the sky felt closer and more open than it did anywhere in Fire Country. Most of the buildings were grand old things, tall and narrow and brushing up against each other with pointed roofs. The roofs were steep; not convenient for ninja travel. The ninja here all went underground when they wanted to be quick and avoid civilians. 

The narrow streets were crowded, people all herded together as they spilled out of the stadium. This didn’t particularly bother Minato; most of them were civilians who didn’t even notice him pass by, one kunai throw after the other. 

The administration building, when he found it, was carved into the mountainside. This was a really impressive use of earth ninjutsu, he would admit. 

There was a sign that said the building was closed to the public today, due to the chunin exams. Minato painted another hiraishin marker under it. 

Lucky me, he thought as his hand moved in quick, practiced strokes. He usually tried very hard not to kill civilians. 

No one expected him, despite the audacity of kidnapping his wife. 

“Excuse me,” he said to the kunoichi at the front desk. “Where is the Tsuchikage’s office?”

“He’s not taking visitors today,” she started, voice sharp and annoyed. Her eyes met his. Confusion flashed across her face. Minato smiled, charming. Confusion drained into horror. 

“That’s a shame,” Minato replied, and then she was dead. 

The building was fully staffed. Chunin exams took a lot of extra hours from admin behind the scenes, and ninja missions never stopped. Minato picked people off, one by one, as he moved through the building. The Kage’s office was usually at the top, right? They didn’t have intel on Iwa, but that’s where everyone else’s were… 

He was quick enough no one had realized what was happening and mounted a counter until he was on floor six. He wasn’t really sure if it was people trying to leave or fight back, but either way they all ended up dead. The entire hallway was sticky with blood, his sandals making that annoying squelching noise as he walked. 

I guess this is why no one ever invites me to their villages, Minato thought. Hiruzen had visited both Suna and Kiri for Chunin Exams. Minato always got a polite note suggesting he send a representative. He was kind of jealous, actually. Minato liked travel and meeting new people. All they had to do was not kidnap his wife and he’d be happy to play nice and not leave hiraishin markers places. 

Oonoki was seated behind his desk, a wall of Iwa ANBU in front of him. Cute. Minato dispatched them in the span of an inhale of breath.

“Hi,” Minato said, standing in front of Oonoki’s desk. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Namikaze Minato, Hokage of Konoha.”

To his credit, Oonoki did not cower. He did not bother with a useless attack. He met Minato’s eyes, gaze steely. 

“Killing me would be an act of war,” Oonoki said grimly. 

Minato raised his eyebrows. “Sure,” he agreed. He leaned forward, letting just a little bit of killing intent out to punctuate his words. ”And so would attacking and kidnapping my wife.”

Oonoki stayed silent. Minato reeled himself back in. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Minato said, uncapping another bottle of ink. He went to work drawing a Hiraishin marker on the Tsuchikage’s desk. “I am going to go get my shinobi. I’m going to kill whoever I want along the way. Then I will leave, and we won’t have to talk about this ever again.��

Minato leaned forward, grasping Oonoki’s chin in his hand. It was scratchy with the scraggly hairs of an old man’s thinning beard. Oonoki did nothing to resist him tilting his head back, pride keeping his gaze hard. 

“And you,” Minato continued, pressing his brush to the man’s forehead to draw one last marker, “will do nothing. No declaration of war. No retaliation on Konoha or Fire Country. Got it?”

He pulled his hand back, letting Oonki go. He pocketed the brush. The wet ink of the hiraishin marker glimmered on the old man’s face, a new permanent fixture to his skin. 

“Do you understand?” Minato reiterated. “Say it.”

There was a long silence, stretching on and on between them. Minato kept eye contact, smile pleasant. 

“I understand,” Oonoki said. 

“Excellent,” MInato replied. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

He teleported to the marker he’d given Itachi. 

Team 4 was currently in Ibiki’s holding cell, having an argument. There was an incredible amount of blood everywhere, considering there was only one dead Iwa-nin in there with them. Ibiki himself was sat against the wall, emaciated with two black eyes. New scars decorated his scalp. He watched Team 4 with what was either exhaustion or intense judgment. Horrific evidence of torture aside, his expression perked up when he noticed Minato. 

“No, I can’t do the jutsu solo if you want him to not get brain damage,” Tori was saying, jabbing her finger aggressively into Itachi’s chest. “Either summon the Hokage back or–”

“Hey,” Minato interrupted, and Tori basically jumped out of her skin. 

“Jesus FUCK–”

“I’ll take him back,” Minato announced, and ninety seconds later, Ibiki was in his prepared hospital room and Minato was back in the holding cell. 

“Um,” Tori said. 

“What the fuck?” Deidara said. 

“Oh wow,” Minato said, having noticed the blood splattered on one wall had been painted into words: Can you find them all? with a hiraishin marker below. “Tori, this is mean.”

Funny. But mean. 

The look Tori gave him was vaguely affronted. 

“What’s our exit plan?” Itachi asked. “Are we also teleporting?”

Minato spun a kunai around his finger casually. “I can take you home first,” he said. “But thought I’d walk.”

[awkward-imp]

New meme format just dropped!!

[thefallennightmare]

Fika-Joakim 'Jolly' Karlsson: 1/2

*made by @madomens. check her out!*

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Joakim 'Jolly' Karlsson x OFC.

Warnings: some angst, swearing, lots of fluff, smut, mentions of death.

Summary: To appease her dying father’s wishes, Astrid takes over the family coffee shop: Fïka. Plans to restore it to its former glory: setting her dreams and ambitions aside- that is until she meets an unexpected stranger. This very stranger changes the trajectory of her life.

Authors Note: Ok what originally was a 26k word one shot is now a two parter! I have the link to part two at the bottom of this one! Enjoy my lovelies. I hope you all enjoy my first time writing Jolly. Oh, make sure you all pay attention closely to this 😏 It took me a month to write this btw.

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @sammyjoeee @somewhere-diamond @concreteemo @ladispo0p @to-be-written @lilmonster218 @whenthesummerdies @lizzieseveride @blackveilomens @malice-ov-mercy @lma1986 @klutzy-kay24 @baddestomens @cncohshit @jilliemiw86 @cookiesupplier

ASTRID

“Son of a bitch,” I grumbled while struggling to carry the large and heavy box from the stockroom up to the front area of the cafe. 

Another curse fell from my lips as I nearly tripped over the discarded and broken coffee machine that I seemed to have forgotten was lying on the floor. Then when I walked past the break room where two of my employees were enjoying their break, one of them waved me over. 

“Yes?” I grunted while pausing for a moment, still carrying the large box. 

“The turbo oven is doing that thing again where it either burns the food or doesn't cook it at all,” Jessica said with a frown. “Any idea when the new one is supposed to come in?” 

I nodded towards the box. “Two steps ahead of you.” 

As I went to push myself through the door that encased the back of the cafe from the front, my other employee, Sean, yelled after me. 

“The front door is getting stuck again! Can you WD20 it again?!” 

“IT’S WD40!” I yelled back. 

Pushing my way through the door, I felt the box beginning to slip between my sweaty fingers and I quickly walked over to the front counter, letting it fall onto it with a loud thud. 

Curious eyes from the few customers landed on me and I smiled sheepishly while shrugging. “Sorry.” 

“Uh, Astrid?” 

Whirling around, I brushed away strands of my white hair to see another one of my employees standing in front of me with an apologetic face. 

“Oh no,” I shook my head. “What’s broken now?” 

“The sink in the restroom is slow to drain and we’re running low on cold foam,” Tori said with her hands behind her back. 

“Low? How?! We’ve only been open a week and that stock was supposed to last us at least three!” I exclaimed with a high squeaky voice; one that only showed when I was stressed. 

“Sean doesn't understand the measurements,” Tori sighed. “I’ve gone over the sheet with him like four times but he still doesn’t get it.” 

Running my hands over my face, I let out a deep and calming breath, which seemed to help until the front door rattled before being thrown open, almost smacking against the black brick. 

“Jeez, you should really get this door checked out.”

Whirling around on my heels with a low scowl, I was ready to lay into this person because frankly, it was one thing after the other and I’ve fucking had it. But when I took in the appearance of these two guys, I quickly shook my head, heart dropping into my stomach. 

“You guys aren’t supposed to be here until after closing!” 

There’s that high-pitched voice again. 

“Yeah well,” the guy carrying a bucket and paintbrush shrugged. “We finished our other job early so we thought we could get started here.” 

I hired this local paint company to paint the tallest wall inside the cafe only because I didn’t have a tall enough ladder to reach the highest point. I painted everything else but didn’t want to bother with this one; it was right in the middle of the cafe lobby. 

“No, that’s not going to work,” I walked around the counter so I could stand face-to-face with this guy. “I have customers and I can’t have you paint while they’re in here.” 

“Listen, lady, all due respect-.” 

I craned my neck to the side and let out a low hiss. “I fucking hate when people say that.” 

The two painters shared a look before the one who seemed to be in charge raised a brow. “What?” 

“Typically when people say all due respect, it’s rarely followed by a respectful remark,” I said with my arms crossed. 

“Did you want us to paint this wall or not?” The guy who had been silent spoke. 

I snapped my eyes over to him. “Do you want my money or not?” 

That seemed to have shut both of them up but my hands were still shaking as my heart was hammering hard in my chest. Ever since we opened this morning, it seemed like it was problem after problem. 

Why the fuck did I agree to take over this place? 

Because it was your father's cafe and his father’s before him. You promised you’d take care of it when he passed.  

Running a tattooed hand through my long hair, I let out a deep breath. “I closed at nine. Can you come back then?” 

The one painter shook his head. “Nope. We don’t work that late.” 

Glancing at my watch, I noticed that it was barely one in the afternoon, and with less than eight hours left, I had to make a decision quickly. 

Biting the inside of my cheek, I eventually nodded. “Fine, you can start now. But please, be respectful of my customers.” 

There were only three customers in here currently, a total of six since we opened at nine a.m., but I didn’t dare let them know. 

Leaving them to do their work, I let the heels of my combat boots thud against the aging wood floors as I walked back behind the counter to go over the mental checklist of my list. 

Unclog the bathroom sink.

Order more cold foam. 

Personally show Sean the correct measurements. 

WD40 the front door. 

Set up the new turbo oven. 

Quickly tying my hair into a braid, I set to work on the list. Had I known the amount of work and updating this cafe needed before I took it over from my father, I would have said no. I was twenty-five years old and had the rest of my life ahead of me, I didn’t want to be stuck trying to keep this place above water. 

Fika first opened sixty years ago when my grandparents came to the United States for an opportunity for a better life. From day one it was a music-themed cafe where they had live music nights every Friday. It succeeded well after they left it to my father when they retired. He hated the live music nights so as soon as he took over, he axed that idea. 

However, when my father got sick about five years ago, that’s when everything went to shit. 

I grew up inside of these walls and saw the stress it brought on my parents until they divorced when I was twelve. My mother wanted nothing to do with this place, claiming it was cursed, so she left. 

My father did his best to raise me solo while trying to run this cafe full-time. I would help out when I could; be here in the morning before school then here right away after school until closing. I would sit in the corner booth in front of the window to do my homework in between bussing tables. It was like that every day until I turned eighteen and went off to college. 

But any weekend I could, I’d be right back here to help my father out. Then when he got sick five years ago, I dropped out of college so I could stay home full-time to take care of him. He was in this place every single day until the day he died a few months ago. It didn’t make a lot of money the last few years so not only did he leave me the cafe, he also left me all of the debt. I wasn’t drowning in it, I still have a decent amount in savings to at least update it but not enough to create a living. 

So that was why I had put the word out that it was for sale if anyone wanted to purchase it. I needed the money to pay off my father's debts and at least survive the next few years until I figured out what I wanted to do with my life. 

With a groan, I stood slowly from my crouched position as I finished fixing the front door and smiled in victory when it didn’t stick. It was after three in the afternoon and peering over my shoulder, I noticed that the painters were finishing up the now black wall and I had to admit, I felt giddy when I saw my vision slowly coming to life. 

I had a red neon sign that read Fika and I planned on hanging it up on that wall and then hanging a bunch of different guitars around it; my grandfather’s favorite on full display. 

Yes, I did have plans to eventually sell the cafe but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy getting it to where I envisioned it.  

Wiping my hands on the back of my black jeans, I set to work on reading the manual for the new turbo oven, wanting to make sure that I understood every aspect of it to show my employees. 

“Hi! Welcome to Fika!”

Jessica’s cheery voice greeted a new customer who stepped inside, the little bell that hung above the door ringing. It was a special bell, my grandparents brought it with them when they moved here. It hung up in that same spot for the last sixty years and I planned on taking it with me if this place ever sold. 

I paid no mind as I focused on now setting up the turbo oven in its new spot on the back counter. 

“Uh, Astrid?” 

My shoulders slumped at hearing Jessica’s wavering voice from behind me. I didn’t bother turning around; not yet. Maybe it was a simple fix that she could handle on her own. 

“Yes?” I answered while wiping down the new oven. 

“The credit card machine isn’t working,” Jessica now stood in the side of my vision so I had no choice but to turn towards her. 

“I swear if my hair wasn’t already white, the stress of today would have given me gray hairs,” I joked with a faint smile as I turned toward the register. 

My eyes were cast downward to the small white credit card machine, not bothering to gaze up at the customer. 

“It’s working fine,” I showed Jessica. “You just have to remember to type in the total before hitting payment.” 

“OH! Makes sense,” she squeezed my arm. “Sorry.” 

I waved her off. “It’s fine. It’s a new machine so it will take some getting used to. I’ll ring him up if you want to start on his order?” 

With a nod, Jessica scurried off to make the drink as I finally gave the person on the other side of the counter my attention. 

“Hi, it’ll be $3.25.” 

However, my breath caught in my throat at the sight of the man in front of me. Dark amber eyes shined back at me, long strands of even darker hair cast around his face, and his pink, plump lips curled up into a faint smile. The facial hair that encased around those lips made my stomach twinge in the best way and when I caught sight of the small nose ring, I nearly fell to my knees. 

It wasn’t until I saw the black card in front of my face that I snapped out of my ogling and took it with a blush covering my cheeks. 

Ringing him up, I handed back his card with a slight waver in my hand but ended up dropping it on the counter before he had the chance to grab it. 

“Shit,” I cursed as I went to reach for it but ended up knocking over the small tip jar, coins spilling over the counter. 

“Fucking perfect!” I groaned while throwing my head back. 

Could this day get any worse?

An older couple that was sitting on the stools at the bar a few spaces down from me gave me an ice-cold glare. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to curse,” I apologized with a fake smile. 

Even though I never watched my mouth around anyone, I couldn’t risk scaring off customers because of my vulgar words. 

I made fast work of picking up the spilled change and placed it back in the jar before looking up at the man through my lashes. 

“That will be up soon,” I cleared my throat. 

The man smiled, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of my face. “Thank you.” 

Oh fuck. 

Those two words alone made my cheeks deepen even more in a shade of crimson because there was a hint of an accent to them. I couldn’t place it but it sounded heavenly to my ears. 

Turning swiftly on my heels, I scurried to the back, not wanting to embarrass myself in front of him anymore. 

About an hour later after catching up on all the office work I had, I ventured back up to the front of the cafe when I was told the painters had finished and were waiting for a check. 

“We’re all finished, ma’am,” the older painter said with a thin-lined smile. 

My own matched his when I handed him the check. “Thank you. It looks great.” 

He went to leave but slowly turned around. “Fika? What does that mean?” 

I broke out into a genuine smile when the memory of my grandma telling me why she named this place came creeping into my mind. 

“It's Swedish. It essentially means coffee break,” I answered while pulling my black cardigan closer to me. 

As the painters left, I turned to my right to look up at the freshly painted wall and kept smiling. 

“Looks good.” 

Looking over my shoulder, I nodded to Tori. “I’m just glad they managed to stay out of customers' way.” 

“Speaking of customers,” Tori smirked while pulling me closer; she was fresh out of high school and any chance she had to gossip about something, she took it. 

“That guy in the far booth hasn’t stopped staring at you since you walked out here,” Tori whispered low in my ear. 

I raised a brow. “Who?” 

She rolled her eyes, the color matching the blue apron she wore, and turned my chin to face behind me where I saw the man from earlier, perched in the corner booth; exactly like she said. 

He had a laptop on the table in front of him and a notebook next to it; the pen scratching quickly against the paper. As if he felt me staring, his eyes bounced up from the notebook to land on my face. Our eyes locked in such an intense battle of who would look away first but neither of us gave up yet. With the way he was watching me, it brought a heat to my insides and I swallowed thickly, my mouth suddenly running dry. 

“You should go talk to him,” Tori pushed me a little his way. 

I dug my heels into the ground. “You should get back to work.” 

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” she giggled while throwing a hand over her shoulder as she turned to head back to the counter. 

With one final glance over to the man in the corner booth, I bit my lip when I realized he was still watching me with curiosity in his eyes. I felt this unknown pull in my heart, dragging me over to him, and as my foot took one step in his direction, Sean’s voice called from the back. 

“UH, ASTRID! WE HAVE A PROBLEM!” 

Son of a bitch. 

ASTRID

“Wait-what do you mean delay? I was told the sign would be here last Friday,” I groaned into my phone. 

“I’m sorry, miss, but with all the shipping delays it might be another week until you receive what you ordered.” The sales rep said. 

I pinched my eyes shut and sighed. “I need that sign. It was for the outside of my cafe, right now I have a dingy one that has been here since my grandparents opened and the ‘A’ is barely hanging on so now all it says is FIK so imagine my horror when people keep saying “Oh my, fik is a terrible name, dear.” 

I was rambling on to this complete stranger on the phone because of my stress and nerves. When I first took over the cafe a few months ago, the outdoor sign was old and broken so I ordered a new one but I had hopes that it’d be here before I reopened. 

Wrong. 

“I don’t know what else to tell you. We’re hoping to have it for you by the end of the month.” 

“THE MONTH?!” I nearly screeched as I came to a halt in the middle of the cafe lobby; curious eyes landing on me. 

Sean furrowed his brows while making a drink. Waving him off, I turned my attention back to my phone. “Is there any way you could put a rush order on it? Please.” 

“No,” the sales rep deadpanned. 

“Gee thanks,” I grumbled before hanging up the phone, stuffing it angrily into the pocket of my olive green jumpsuit. 

Running both hands through the long strands of my hair while I muttered a few curses. It seemed as if the last week had continued problem after problem. 

The sink in the bathroom ended up having to be replaced. 

Torri accidentally dropped a stack of brand-new coffee mugs, breaking all of them, so I still need to go out and buy some more. 

The new employee I hired last week didn’t show up for their third shift this morning, meaning we were down a person. When I texted them, they never responded. 

There was a family of raccoons living next to the dumpster outside. Sean wanted me to call animal control but I immediately declined. They weren’t hurting or bothering anyone so they could live there. 

“What are we, a wildlife rehab?” Sean asked with disbelief. 

I raised a brow while crossing my arms. “Sean, are you afraid of a couple of raccoons?” 

He scoffed. “Please. Those things just eat trash and cause havoc.” 

“Well, they’re staying. If anyone doesn't like it, they can come to me with their complaints,” I pointed my finger playfully at my employees.

With a sigh, I busied myself for the next little while cleaning up tables, talking with guests, and helping out my employees with anything they needed. I was a hands-on owner and boss, always helping when I could. Anything to make their lives and jobs easier. 

Every so often, when I mingled with the guests, I let my gaze drift to the empty corner booth; where the mystery man sat every day for the last four days. He never came at the same time but when he did show up, I managed to always be busy with front-of-house things or stuck in my office. But when I wasn't in my office, our eyes would catch every so often. However, it was my nerves that stopped me from going to ask him if he needed anything else or to strike up a conversation with him. 

Flirting in general was easy for me but with this man, his dark yet bright eyes locked me into place with a swollen tongue every time his gaze struck me. 

“Astrid, my dear!” 

Pausing from refilling the straws, I glanced at the open door and smiled at one of Fika’s regulars from when my father owned it; an older man named Phillip. 

“Hi, Phillip. How are you?” I helped guide him to a table against the black-painted wall; still empty. 

I haven't had time to hang up the variety of guitars that were slowly overtaking my office. 

“Fine, fine,” he patted my hand as I slowly helped him into the seat. “Just here for my usual honey tea with-.” 

“One piece of lemon so you can squeeze it yourself and two cannolis,” I finished for him with a nod. “Coming right up Phillip.” 

Turning on my heels, I peered over to the counter ready to tell Tori about the order but raised a brow when I noticed no one standing behind it. Glazing at the clock on the opposite wall, I cursed when I remembered that Tori’s break was now and Sean was busy watching a safety training video in the break room. 

As the door above the bell rang, indicating a new customer, I glanced down at Phillip while tapping the table. “Give me a bit and I’ll hand deliver it myself.” 

He paused reading the newspaper to give me a warm smile. “Of course, dear.” 

“I’ll be right with you,” I then called to the tall man standing at the counter but froze when our eyes met. 

His usual long hair was pulled back into a low bun, showcasing the hardness of his jaw, and I absentmindedly licked my lips. He wore a simple gray hoodie and black jeans but something about this casual outfit made my stomach flip. Since his hair was pulled back I was able to see the small piercing in his left ear. 

“Take all the time you need. I’m in no rush,” the mystery man smiled while holding onto the strap of his bag; the same bag that he brought in every day. 

I’ve come to notice that it held his notebook and laptop, with the occasional book he brought out to read every so often. 

“Th-thanks,” I stuttered while rushing behind the counter to get started on Phillip’s order. 

As I was pouring the tea into the cup, the phone from the cafe rang and I quickly answered. 

“Thank you for calling Fika. This is Astrid.” 

“Astrid!” The cheery and younger voice ran in my ear. “It’s Laura. I’m bringing in my study group, we’re a party of seven so I wanted to give you a heads up in case you didn't have the space.” 

Glancing up to the farthest corner of the cafe, secluded away from the rest, the two long sage-green couches were currently empty. 

“The loft is already booked for a private event for tonight but your usual spot is open. I’ll reserve it for you guys. Thanks for the heads up, Laura! I appreciate it.” 

“Oh please, Astrid. You’ve done so much fueling our late-night college study sessions. We’ll see you in a bit!” 

Hanging up the phone, I placed it on the counter while grabbing the tea mug in one hand and the two cannolis and slice of lemon in the other. As I passed by the tall mystery man, I gave him my best smile. 

“I’m sorry for the wait.”

He peered up from his phone. “No need to apologize. I’m very patient.” 

Ignoring the way my skin pricked and burned at the accent in his voice, I gently set down Phillip’s order with shaky hands. 

“Oh, why so nervous, dear?” Phillip commented. 

I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “No reason. Enjoy.” 

Before I could leave, he gently grasped my elbow. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m sorry to hear about your father.” 

My body went rigid at the mention of my father. It was rare that a customer would bring him up because they were all new so there was no need to talk about my father which I’d been thankful for since it was still raw. The occasional regulars, like Phillip, were the ones that did. 

I swallowed thickly. “Uh, thank you. We knew for a while how sick he was but still, it was a shock.” 

“And you were the one that found him?” 

Out of the corner of my eye, the mystery man turned his head briefly my way but I kept my attention on Phillip doing my best not to let the tears win. 

“Enjoy your tea, Phillip. Let me know if you need anything else.” 

I tapped his shoulder while making my way over to the two couches in the far back of the cafe and flipped over the RESERVED sign then made my way back to the register. 

“Thanks for waiting,” I smiled up to the mystery man. “What can I get you?” 

“Black coffee with two scoops of sugar, please.” He smiled while handing me his black credit card. 

“Any sweets?” I teased, already knowing his order. 

According to Jessica and Tori, every time he came in he ordered the same thing. 

Black coffee with two scoops of sugar. 

They tried to upsell him into something different or add a sweet for his side, but every time he politely declined. 

The man’s eyes sparked as he looked at me and just as I was about to prepare myself for giving him the total, he surprised me. 

He hummed low. “What do you recommend?” 

Tapping my fingers against the edge of the counter I peered at the display case of all the homemade desserts I baked this morning. 

“Depends. What do you like?” I asked, giving him a small smile. 

I didn’t miss the way his eyes ghosted over my entire form, lingering on my tattoos. First, flowers and a crescent moon chest piece that was visible thanks to my thin straps and the low cut of my jumpsuit. Then he looked at the tattoo on my left forearm. It was of four crows flying away with their feathers falling. Then to the sleeve on my right arm, I called my Witch arm; it had different witch theme designs. 

When I scratched my cheek, I noticed the way he tracked every movement of it, seeing the Medusa head I had tattooed on the back of my hand. I had more tattoos that were hidden underneath my clothes but the thought of him stripping me to trace over them with his tongue made my face burn and I shifted on my feet. 

Finally, he shrugged. “Surprise me.” 

Pursing my lips, I grabbed a plate and the tongs, deciding on two small pieces of my grandma’s famous Kanelbullar. She passed down the recipe to me in hopes I would continue to sell them at the cafe. 

“These are a huge hit with everyone. My grandma’s recipe,” I said while handing him the plate. 

“Oh?” The man raised a brow as he looked down at the plate on the counter. 

Suddenly my palms began to sweat as he assessed the dessert. “They’re called kanelbullar; a famous Swedish desert. Otherwise known as cinnamon buns. Some people are turned off by it at first because of how it looks but I promise, they’re delicious. I made them myself this morning. All of these desserts are made fresh every morning. ” 

Now the man was smirking. “Swedish, huh?” 

I nodded. “My grandparents were born in Sweden and moved here to start their dream of opening Fika. When they retired, they moved back.” 

“Are you Swedish?” 

I cringed. “Fifty percent but don’t ask me to speak it because I’ll butcher it.” 

“How much?” He asked with a laugh while pointing to the plate. 

I waved him off while ringing his total up on the credit card machine. “I’ll charge you just for the coffee, in case you don’t like the kanelbullar. But, it’s a one-time thing.” 

I playfully pointed a finger at him, one he chuckled at before taking his card back. 

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you,” he gave me a smile that made me weak in the knees. 

Clearing my throat, I brushed a strand of hair from my eyes and reached for a cardboard cup. “Can I have a name for the order?” 

“Joakim.” 

I paused mid-writing. “Uh, do you mind spelling it? I don’t want to be the kind of a barista that messes up people's names.” 

“You can call me Jolly,” he chuckled.

“See,” I pointed the marker at him. “That I can spell. Joakim is an interesting name though.” 

I began pouring the coffee into his cup but nearly spilled it when his next words shocked me. 

“It’s Swedish.” 

“Wait,” I set down the pot and cup before turning back to him. “Are you telling me you let me ramble on about a Swedish dessert when you fully knew what it was?” 

The man, Jolly, was full-on grinning now as he popped one of the kanelbullars in his mouth, licking off the sticky cinnamon syrup. I had to force myself to bite back a moan at the sight. 

“Du var söt så jag sa inget,” Jolly said, then took a drink of his coffee when I handed it to him. 

With my furrowed brows of confusion, he chuckled. “You have no idea what I’m saying do you?” 

“Not a fucking thing,” I giggled while scrunching my nose. “I was born here in California and my grandma only taught me the basics but those are long forgotten.”

“How long have you owned the place?” He wondered. 

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “A few months now but I only recently reopened. When I took it over after my father, it needed a lot of upgrades and fixes. Which it still does. But I plan on selling it once it is ready.” 

Jolly raised a brow. “You’re going to sell?” 

“Uh, yeah,” I rubbed my elbow nervously. “Owning this place was never my endgame. It’s been in the family for years, yes, but the potential of the money if I sell would help out a lot.” 

Tears gathered in the corner of my hazel eyes when I knew deep down the real reason why I wanted to sell; it reminded me too much of my father. 

“You’ve created a nice place here,” he admitted while looking around at the place. “The plants add a nice touch.” 

I had a variety of different plants littered all over the place as a way to bring life and color into the dull lighting.  

I hummed. “Here I thought it was the coffee that brought you in every day.” 

“Oh, it is, however, I’m more into the barista who made it today,” Jolly winked. 

My cheeks burned all the way to the tops of my ears. “Oh, well. That’s very sweet of you.” 

With the cup in one hand and plate in the other, Jolly winked. “Thank you, Astrid. I’ll be coming back for a refill.” 

“I’ll be here to help with that,” I rushed out a bit fast and mentally cursed myself for sounding desperate. 

But then I realized he said my name and the way it sounded on his lips made my core itch with desire. 

“You know my name?” I asked while twirling my fingers. 

“I’ve heard it quite a lot the last week from your employees needing something,” he joked. 

I playfully rolled my eyes while making a new batch of black coffee so he could have the fresh stuff when he needed it. “I love them. It’s not their fault this place is old and falling apart.

Jolly sat in his typical booth that was near the ride side of the counter, in front of the window. “Do you know the meaning behind your name?” 

“I know it’s Swedish,” I answered with a shrug.

He nodded. “It means divinely beautiful.” 

Now my entire body was inflamed with how Jolly was staring at me, his dark eyes devouring me, but before I could respond, Sean and Tori emerged from the back. 

“Alright, boss. Where do you want us?” Tori clapped her hands. 

Her break was over and Sean must have finished his training video. 

“Tori, you’re working the private party. They should be here by 3 so can you make sure everything in the loft is set up?” I asked. 

She nodded with a wide smile. “Of course. Who’s it this time?” 

When I took over Fika, I noticed there was this huge, unused space upstairs that I could use for either extra seating if we got too busy or for private events. Tonight, there was a local book club that rented out the space. 

“LA’s Book Ladies.” 

“Again? Weren’t they here last week?” Sean asked. 

Nodding, I handed Tori the box of supplies she would need to set up the loft before ushering her away. “They're interested in renting out the space every Thursday for their book club.” 

The bell above the door indicated a new group of customers; Laura’s study group. 

I motioned Sean over to them. “Jessica will be here in five minutes. She can help you prepare their order once you take it.” 

Once Sean scurried over towards the group, I darted my gaze over to where Jolly was sitting, noticing that he had headphones on as he worked on his laptop, the plate empty. 

Before I could bring him another round of coffee and kanelbullars, my phone rang and I immediately recognized the number. 

“Hi, mormor,” I smiled into the phone. 

“Min älskling,” my grandmother’s old, frail voice made me smile even wider. “How are things?” 

With the sudden commotion from the study group settling in, I decided to take the rest of my phone call in my office.

JOLLY

“Son of a fucking bitch!” 

Snapping my eyes up from my phone, I watched Astrid with a small smile as she stepped onto the small ladder to hang up a guitar, only to be a few inches short. She’d been working on hanging up guitars on the black wall for the last ten minutes, something I watched with intent and curious eyes. 

It had been a few days since our first conversation and since then, we shared stolen glances anytime I was here and she was working up front. We talked when she wasn’t busy but it always pertained to the same topic. 

“How's your coffee?” 

“Would you like a refill?”

Astrid did try to deter me from my usual order but I always stayed the same. 

Black coffee with two scoops of sugar. I did, however, let her decide on my sweets. Today it was something simple; baklava. 

Another thing she baked herself. 

When Astrid slid over the coffee to me this morning, I curled a brow at the mug she had given me. She merely shrugged with a coy smile before busying herself with going about and watering all the plants in the cafe. 

I snicked while grabbing the white mug that had ‘Jolly’ written across it and sat in my usual booth in front of the large window. The green velvet of the bench seat and the oak wood of the table I sat at became a sense of familiarity. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I marveled at how her ice-white hair was pulled back into a tight bun, showcasing her defined cheekbones and bright hazel eyes. Astrid’s leg was exposed due to the long slit in her long black skirt and I caught a glimpse of the tattoo on her shin; a moth, a rose, and a half-crescent moon. She was covered in tattoos and I couldn’t ignore the voice in my head that begged me to find out if she had any other ones hidden. 

When I was walking downtown a few weeks ago and saw the opening soon sign on the battered door of Fika, I was curious about who was taking over. I used to stop in every once in a while when Astrid’s father ran the place but ever since my life and work schedule with Bad Omens took off, I came in less and less. 

But that day when I saw Astrid’s faint figure covered in a type of green paint as she painted the walls, I was transfixed. The vision of her took my breath away and I stopped to watch her for a few seconds. The few times I stopped in when her father owned the cafe, I never noticed her. So when I heard that she was the one taking over, I decided to make more of an effort to stop in when I could, however, I never expected I’d be here every other day. 

Noah called me out last week about how often I came here and told me not to “fall in love”. I had no intention to, not wanting to get into a relationship with how often I was gone on the road, but the second my eyes met with hers, I knew Astrid would consume every part of me. 

“I chose the wrong day to wear my fucking vans.” 

Shaking from my thoughts, I peered over to Astrid as she now stood on the tips of her toes to try and hang up a guitar on one of the highest hooks. 

“Need some help?” I asked while rising to my feet. 

She was only a few feet away from where I’d been sitting. 

“Oh, no, Jolly. I don’t want to bother you,” Astrid said, waving me off. 

I shrugged while brushing the hair away from my face; opting to leave it down today. 

“I mean this is the nicest way possible Astrid, but you’re shorter than me. I could reach that hook with ease,” I informed. 

She playfully gawked with a hand over her heart, the other clutching the guitar. “My, I thought you were one of the sweeter ones.” 

I chuckled and motioned her to step off the ladder. “Get off of there before you hurt yourself.” 

“I’ll have you know,” she came down the three-rung ladder, “I did every single update in this place. Without hurting myself.” 

I took the guitar from her with a raised brow. “Are you sure about that?” 

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe I tripped over a bucket of paint and cut my finger while setting up the new coffee machine but that’s it.” 

“For now,” I joked while taking a tentative step toward her. 

“Oh, someone thinks they’re funny today,” she crossed her arms but the smile on her blood-red lips told me she was loving our banter. 

With mere inches between us, Astrid peered up at me through her long lashes and swallowed thickly. 

“Well, I must say. You are taller than me,” her voice was quiet but yet loud enough just for me to hear. 

My fingers itched with the want to brush away the loose strand of hair that hung in her eyes. When her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, I internally groaned at how seductive that simple action was and I almost had to force myself to take a step away from her. One of my hands was still holding onto the guitar, and the other was hanging to my side, so close to Astrid’s that I could feel the heat radiating off of her. Our eyes were locked with each other, my dark ones paled in comparison to her bright hazel ones. They burned deep into my soul, in the best way, and I found myself swimming in their depths. I was hypnotized by her gaze that I didn’t realize our fingers brushed against one another, sparks shooting through my entire essence with the simple touch of her skin on mine. 

“How many do you have left to hang up?” I cleared my throat, breaking the sudden sexual tension, and held up the guitar. 

“Uh,” Astrid blinked. “Just two more. I have to run to the back to grab the last one.” 

With a nod, I let her run off to grab the last guitar as I took the two steps up the step ladder, hanging up the guitar I had on its designated hook. Once back on my feet, I took a few steps back to admire how the guitar wall looked. The bright red, neon FIKA sign was in the middle with one unused hook underneath it. 

“Here we go!” Astrid smiled as she came back to the front of the cafe. “Please be careful with this one. It’s an old one and means a lot.” 

For once, she didn’t have my full attention. It was on the guitar in her hand. 

A blue Teisco Del Rey ET-312. Otherwise known as a sharkfin guitar. Something I made known. 

“You know guitars, huh?” she asked as I gently took it from her. 

“Yeah, I know a thing or two,” I kept my answer simple, not wanting to give too much about me away. It was clear she had no idea who I was outside of the cafe and I wanted to keep it like that for a little while longer. 

As I gazed down at it, Astrid told me the story behind it. 

“It was my grandfather's. He absolutely loved playing it when he wasn’t spending all of his time here. I remember he let me play it one Christmas when I was 7. I was terrible and my parents vowed to never put me into any lessons to save their ears,” she ended her story with a light chuckle. 

“He didn’t take it back with him when they moved back to Sweden?” I asked, remembering she told me her grandparents moved back a few years ago. 

“Nope. He gave it to me. I’m not sure why, though. I never learned to play. Hopefully, he won’t be so mad that I decided to hang it up.” 

Ever so carefully, I went back up the step ladder and placed it on its hook. It wasn’t until I was standing next to Astrid again that I gave her a wicked smile. 

“This looks pretty badass, Astrid. I love how it turned out,” I admired. 

She smiled, eyes sparkling as she looked at it. “Me too. Thank you for your help, Jolly.” 

Astrid bumped her shoulders with mine and not only did the sparks return but so did the fluttering in my stomach. 

The bell above the door jingled, making her jump slightly before turning around, her voice raising an octave to greet the customer. 

“Hi, welcome to Fika!” 

I didn’t miss the ‘woah’ under her breath and with furrowed brows, I turned on my heels but rolled my eyes at who walked in the door. 

Noah took one look between Astrid and me, how close we were standing next to each other, and the corner of his lips curled up. 

“Hi,” he smiled. 

“What can I get you?” Astrid asked as she walked over to the register behind the counter. 

“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you, though,” Noah declined politely while holding a hand over his chest. 

“You sure you don’t want some mochis? I hear they’re pretty special,” I teased. 

Noah shot me a glare, one I ignored by packing up my things. He must have finished his therapy session early and we're going to head to rehearsals for the next two days to prepare for the upcoming week-long festivals Bad Omens were set to headline. 

“You two know each other?” Astrid pointed between us. 

“He’s my roommate,” I answered before Noah could. 

He picked up on how rushed my answer was but knew with my pleading eyes not to say anything else about how we know each other. 

“I’m Noah,” he extended his hand towards her. 

She smiled while shaking it. “Astrid. Owner of Fika.” 

“I’ve heard great things about you. And this place. It’s one of Jolly’s favorites,” Noah said. 

Astrid’s eyes glinted as we looked at each other and I swore all of the oxygen left my lungs with how intense her gaze was. 

She hummed low. “I’m starting to realize that.” 

Hiding my burning cheeks beneath the length of my hair, I cleared my throat and patted Noah on the back.

“We should go.” 

He nodded at me before turning back to Astrid. “It was nice meeting you. Maybe next time, I’ll join Jolly.” 

“Sure,” she nodded, still wearing that beautiful smile. “Oh, here. At least take some coconut water for the road!” 

Astrid bent down to reach into the fridge and I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on her. Noah snickered next to me which in turn, made me smack his chest. 

“Fuck, man,” he grunted while rubbing it. 

“Here you guys go!” She handed us the two bottles of coconut water and my fingers grazed hers yet again when I grabbed mine. 

This time it was Astrid who seemed affected by it with the way her breath hitched and quickly stuffed her hands in the pockets of her long skirt. 

“What do I owe you?” Noah asked while reaching for his wallet. 

“On the house,” she said.

“Now I can see why Jolly likes you,” Noah ran a hand through his hair. 

The new shorter length was something not only he but I was getting used to. As long as I’d known him, Noah had some sort of long hair. 

Before I could retort, one of her employees came rushing up behind Astrid, needing her attention for something. 

“Sean, they’re just raccoons. As long as you leave them alone, they won’t bother you,” she laughed. 

The noise made my heart ache in my chest, wanting to be the only one to be the reason why she laughed like that. 

“I’m telling you, Astrid. There are at least six of them now. How am I supposed to throw away the trash if they’re living in the dumpster?”

With a deep sigh, she excused herself from us with a small wave and that was my cue to pull Noah along as we stepped out into the late Los Angeles afternoon air. 

He took a long drink of his coconut water as we walked towards his car which was parked down the block. 

“So that’s Astrid,” he noted with a hum. 

“Don’t start,” I grumbled while putting on my sunglasses. 

Noah held up his hands. “She’s cute, Jolly. I can see why you spend a lot of time here. Though it doesn’t seem like she knows who either of us is.”

I shook my head with a thankful breath. “No, she doesn’t. Although you seemed to take her breath away when she saw you.”

He snorted. “You don’t have to worry. I only have eyes for-.” 

“I know, I know,” I waved him off before he finished his sentence. 

It was clear who Noah only had eyes for. It took a long time for him to finally realize that.

We reached Noah’s car and as he stood in front of the driver's door and me on the passenger side, we both rested our arms on the hood of the car. Noah’s almond eyes were hidden behind his black sunglasses but I knew they were assessing my face. 

“Do you plan on telling her who you are and what you do?” He wondered. 

“If I’m being honest, it’s been nice not having her know or treating me differently.” 

Noah nodded. “I understand that. But take it from me, not communicating the truth can delay things. And it’s not healthy.” 

Understatement of the year.

“I’ll tell her; soon,” I said. 

“What is she going to think when you’re gone for 9 days and don’t show up for your daily coffee?” 

“We should go, you know how Matt gets when we’re late,” I said, changing the subject, and opened the door to slide into the passenger seat. 

Noah tapped the roof of his car before he followed my actions. 

ASTRID

“I don’t know what to do, mormor. One guy put in an offer, it wasn’t great but enough to keep me afloat for a while if I do decide to sell,” I spoke into my phone as it was perched between my shoulder and ear, hands busy stocking the cafe. 

“Astrid, I sense there’s something else stopping you,” my grandmother observed. 

I shrugged with my free shoulder. “If I’m being honest, I like running Fika. It keeps me motivated to get out of bed every morning. My employees are great, same with the customers. I have a lot of regulars that tell me I should keep the place; keep it in the family name.” 

One especially lingered on my mind always. His long brown hair, ever darker brown eyes, and that nose ring that seemed to accentuate his face perfectly. 

“Min älskling, it’s whatever you decide. We left Fika to your father who in turn left it to you because we trust you. Don’t feel as if you need to keep it for us. We don’t want to see you do something with regret.” 

I finished stocking the straws and went to work stocking the sugar packets. “I know. I do wish you and farfar could come visit and see what I’ve done with it.” 

My heart sank when I thought of my grandfather and knowing the real reason why they couldn’t leave Sweden right now. My grandmother was still young and healthy enough to travel but she couldn’t leave my grandfather in case something happened to him. 

Alzheimer's had slowly been deteriorating his brain, making life difficult for both of them. It was the same disease that took my father months ago. 

My grandmother sighed. “Someday I’ll come visit. But your farfar-.” 

“I know,” I said suddenly. “It’s alright.” 

We talked for a few more minutes before I said goodbye and pocketed my phone into my jeans. Rolling up the sleeves of my orange cardigan I busied myself with more work. It was Saturday afternoon and Fika was busier than normal; the sunshine and cool LA weather brought everyone out. 

Well, not everyone. 

For the last week, anytime the bell above the door jingled, my head would snap up expecting to see Jolly, but every time my heart would drop when it wasn’t him. I had become so accustomed to seeing him almost every day that when he stopped coming in, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was something I had done. 

Maybe he finally grew sick of your coffee. And you.

Shaking the thought from my mind, I went about mingling with some of my regulars. The cool air slipped inside as someone walked in through the door, tickling the exposed skin of my stomach because of the black lace bralette I wore. 

Deciding to head to my office, I was in my head thinking about what I possibly could have done to make Jolly leave for a week, that I didn’t see the body I collided with until it was too late. 

Strong arms wrapped around me from behind, large hands gripping the small of my back, as my hands sprawled out on the thick chest. Peering up through my lashes, I drank in the sight of those dark eyes. 

“H-hi,” I stuttered while swallowing thickly. 

“Hello,” Jolly smiled as his hands absentmindedly rubbed at my back. 

The feeling sent a shockwave through my veins and I reveled in his touch, desperately needing it all over me. 

His hair was hidden beneath the hat he wore, the hood of his black sweater pulled over that. There was a new look of exhaustion in his eyes, something I hadn’t seen before. It was as if the usual light behind them had dulled since our last encounter. 

However the longer we stared at each other, I could see the light returning. I so badly wanted to ask him where he’d gone the last nine days but didn’t want to make it seem like I noticed. Even though I did. 

I also found myself missing his presence after the third day he didn’t show up. 

“The usual?” I asked after a beat of silence. 

Jolly gave me a warm smile, hands still wrapped around me. “Have I worked myself up to a usual kind of guy?”

I playfully patted his chest. “It's easy when I can make your drink in my sleep.” 

“I like what I like,” he said, keeping his eyes on mine as he did. 

Silence fell between us as we continued to stay in each other's embrace, neither of us ready to break apart. Until Tori’s voice broke through the small bubble Jolly and I created. 

“Astrid, there’s a Jackson on the phone for you.” 

Shit. 

Slowly removing myself from Jolly, I cleared my throat. “I have to take that, but give me a few minutes and I’ll bring you your coffee.” 

“Of course,” he nodded. 

Turning my back to him, I took the cafe phone from Astrid while ignoring her smug smirk as she watched Jolly walk to his table.

“This is Astrid,” I answered the call. 

“Astrid, this is Jackson Hewitt, I’m calling about that little coffee shop you own on the corner of W. 9th Street. Freka.” 

“Fika,” I corrected with a stern voice. 

This was our third conversation and he still couldn't pronounce the name correctly; either he couldn’t or didn’t bother enough to care. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m calling to check in to see if you’ve thought about my offer.” 

Staying on the phone with him, I poured the black coffee with two scoops of sugar into the white Jolly cup and plated two chocolate chip cookies. 

“You only sent the offer the other day, Jackson. I need longer than that to think if I accept or not,” I said as I made my way over towards where Jolly sat. 

His usual booth in the corner by the large window.  

“Or not?” Jackson repeated my words. “Come on, Astrid. This is probably the best deal you will get for that place. It’s better if you take it now because I can’t promise it will be the same amount next time I make it.” 

I set the plate and coffee down on the table in front of Jolly with a bit of force, not meaning to, so he glanced up at me. 

“Listen, Jackson. With absolutely no respect, I’m not interested in selling my place to someone who’s going to turn it into a chain restaurant. If I lose money, so what? At least I kept my dignity and didn’t sell out.” 

I placed my hand on my hip, still standing in front of Jolly who watched me with a slight smirk. 

“Woah, Astrid. In no way are you selling out. I just have great plans for that space. I know how hard it has been keeping it afloat after your father died.” 

My body went rigid as a low scowl pulled on my lips. This asshole knew absolutely nothing about my father or how well Fika had been doing. The first few weeks were rough but I found a good rhythm and soon, we began to flourish. The income had been steady for everything and everyone involved. 

Plus, I hadn’t smiled or felt this good about my future in a long time. 

“My father and his passing have nothing to do with my decision. You’ve never stepped foot inside of Fika, so don’t pretend you know how my business is doing,” I did my best to keep myself composed in front of the customers, especially Jolly. 

“You know what, I’ll give you another day to think-.” 

“No, I’ve made my decision. Fika is no longer for sale, thanks for your interest but please do not contact me again.” 

Before Jackson could respond, I hung up the phone and pinched my eyes shut; the ongoing onslaught of a migraine creeping its way into my head. 

“You’ve decided not to sell?” 

Jolly’s soft voice made me jump slightly and when our gazes met, it pulled me in to sit across from him.

“Yeah,” I nodded while tapping my fingers against the table. “I’ve talked with my grandma a little bit about it. She supports me no matter what I decide but I couldn’t imagine letting this place go. It has too many memories behind it.”

“It’s a great place, Astrid. You should be proud of what you’ve done here,” he said. 

I smiled. “I am. I’ve slowly put myself into this place so I can’t let it go.” 

“Well,” Jolly took a small sip of his coffee. “I’m glad you’ve decided to keep it.” 

I rested my chin on my palm. “Me too. It helps that the clientele have been so wonderful.” 

A low rumble emanated from his chest as he pointed to his coffee. “Does anyone else get a special cup with their name on it?” 

“No, those are saved for the real special ones,” I winked. 

Something dark flashed in Jolly’s eyes as he leaned farther back into his chair, extending his long legs on the right side of me, locking them at his ankles. My eyes dragged up the length of them until my gaze landed on his eyes, a playful gleam behind them as he caught me staring at him. 

My cheeks burned as I shifted in my seat. 

“Nervous?” Jolly questioned with a sudden darkness in his voice as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. 

We were so close now, that I could feel his warm breath across my face. 

“N-nope.” I did my best to remain calm and poised but was failing. Something he immediately picked up on. 

“Are you sure about that?”

Licking my lips, I parted them to speak, something Jolly tracked with intense eyes. My pussy was aching with such a force of desire I was afraid he would be able to smell my desire with how close he was to me. There was this sudden pull between us that made me lean up towards him, Jolly’s lips meters from mine. I almost missed the intake of his breath, the sound muted with the hustle and bustle of the cafe.

“Astrid, the delivery truck is outside!” 

Jumping away slightly from Jolly, I cleared my throat while looking towards the counter, Sean waving me over. 

“I should-.” I threw a thumb over my shoulder when I looked back at Jolly. 

He nodded, adjusting the hat on his head. “Of course.” 

With one final glance, I stepped out of the booth and spent the next long while putting away the respective boxes from our weekly delivery. It was a bit larger than normal so by the time I finished, it was nearing 4 in the evening and when I emerged up the front of the cafe, the large groups that were there earlier dwindled to only a few. 

“How have things been?” I asked Jessica. 

She was wiping down the front counter and shrugged. “Not too bad. A steady influx of customers. But one managed to stay the entire time you were busy.” 

“Almost as if he was waiting for you,” Tori popped up from in front of the counter as she was cleaning the glass of the dessert display case. 

I crossed my arms. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Sean snorted from his spot in the little kitchen to my left. “Astrid, this guy has been in here almost every single day and stays for a few hours all while looking at you. Take it from me, this guy is interested.” 

While they were a few years younger than me, I didn’t brush off their observations yet. 

“Jolly is a regular,” I started to defend. 

Tori’s eyes widened. “That’s why you’ve been giving him his coffee in that cup!” 

I hushed her with a wave of a hand when other customers peered over at us. Thankfully, it seemed as if Jolly had his headphones in as he clicked away at his laptop. 

“You should give him your number,” Jessica suggested. 

“No,” I shot down with a shake of my head. 

Although the prospect of giving Jolly my number did make my heart flutter. 

“Oh come on, what's the worst that can happen? He ignores you?” Tori wondered. 

I placed my hands on my hips. “Don’t you guys have better things to do than worry about my dating life?” 

“He’s here almost every day and I hate to break it to you, but it’s not because of the coffee. He can have simple black coffee at home but he chooses to come here,” Sean said once he finished cleaning one of the ovens. 

“I’m going to see if he needs anything else,” Jessia piped up, quickly scurrying around the counter. 

Her name fell in a hushed tone as I watched her walk over to where Jolly sat. Their conversation couldn’t be heard from my spot in the cafe but when he smiled politely at her with a nod, my stomach fluttered with those damn butterflies. Every part about Jolly made my skin buzz with electricity and heat. Jessica returned to the front counter with a sly smirk. 

“Jolly said he will take a coffee for the road and a dozen of you famous Kanelbullar’s. Oh, and a pack of those chocolate mochis. Something about a friend of his loving those. But Tori and I can’t make his order because we have to clean the loft.” 

“We do?” Tori asked with confusion which made Jessica smack her arm. “Oh, yes! Right. We do. Sean, can you take care of Jolly’s order?” 

“No can do. It’s time for my break,” Sean said as he walked into the back.

I playfully narrowed my eyes at all three of them. “You guys think you’re so slick but I know what you’re doing.” 

As the three of them dispersed, I went to work on getting Jolly’s to go order together. With my fingers wrapped around the togo cup, I mewled at my decision for a long moment before internally saying fuck it. The worst that can happen is that he ignores my texts. 

And break your heart in the process. 

Choosing to ignore that thought, I scribbled down my number with the letter A on the cup, then filled it with black coffee and two scoops of sugar. As I was bagging his desserts, Jolly came up to the counter with his card in hand. 

“Tell your friend these mochis are a favorite here,” I smiled. 

“I’ll make sure to let him know. He kind of has a weird obsession with them,” he chuckled. 

Ringing him up for everything, I handed back his card then hesitantly his cup and bag of goodies. Jolly gave nothing away that he saw my number written in black ink on his cup. 

“So, see you tomorrow?” I asked, not being able to hide the hope in my voice. 

He ran a hand over his jaw. “I actually have this party that will have my attention all day. But I’ll be back on Sunday. Can't go too long without these Kanelbullars.” 

The front counter stood between us and with the way he smiled, I wanted to jump across it into his arms. 

Instead, I decided to remain professional and nodded. “Well, I’ll make sure to have a fresh batch for you on Sunday.” 

With a wink, Jolly raised the cup to his lips to take a small sip of his coffee. “I can’t wait, Astird.” 

The way my name fell from his lips nearly made me moan in pleasure and I wanted to hear him say it again; the accent doing wonders for it. 

With a gentle wave, I watched him walk out of the cafe before busing myself to help close up the cafe. Every so often I would peek at my phone to see if there was a new message from an unknown number and every time, my heart would sink when I realized there wasn’t. 

Just as I was about to give up hope, my phone buzzed when I was locking up the front door and walking to my car parked across the street. 

Unknown: Hi, it’s Jolly. Apologies it took me a while to text you. I noticed your number on the cup the second you handed it to me. But with work, it pulled me away from my phone. So now that I have a minute, hi.

I grinned as I read the message over a few more times before plopping into the driver's seat of my car. I debated on how to respond for a few minutes. 

Me: Hi :) how did your friend like the mochis?

As I finished saving his contact, Jolly responded. 

Joakim: Loved them. Ate half of the Kanelbullar as well. 

I giggled at the next message that came in; a simple frown emoji. 

Me: Well, I’ll make sure to throw in a few extra just for you next time.

Joakim: I’m looking forward to it. 

With the smile still plastered to my face, I plugged in my phone to my car and for the first time in a long while, enjoyed the drive home after a long day's work. 

ASTRID

I opened Fika about two hours ago, a slow steady stream of customers coming in as soon as the door opened, and I’d been carefully watching to see if Jolly would show up. We texted for a little while yesterday since I was home sick in bed and when he sent me a picture of the outfit he wore to his party, I had to pause my movie to stare at it. Black jeans, black long sleeves, and a black jacket on top. 

With the large mirror I had leaning against one of the cafe walls, something I set up for people to take selfies in front of with their coffees, I brushed away any lint on my black sweater dress and adjusted my tights. I made sure not a strand of hair fell out of my French braid and smiled to myself. 

“You know what they said about Narcissus,” Sean chuckled as he caught me giving myself another once over. 

“Ha, ha,” I narrowed my eyes while resting my hands on my hips. “Shouldn’t you be bussing tables?” 

“Waiting for a certain someone?” He teased with a raised brow before he went to work cleaning up the tables. 

Before I could retort, the bell above the door rang which made me turn swiftly on my feet. My heart rate picked up at the sight of Jolly as he walked in with two other guys on each side of him. His hair was falling to his shoulders in chocolate waves and when he took off his sunglasses, his dark amber eyes immediately found me to scan every inch of me. I felt frozen but hot under his gaze and pulled at the ends of my sweater dress, suddenly feeling as if it wasn’t perfect enough for him. 

“Hi,” Jolly smiled. 

The two men he came in with watched us with curious smiles, the one of Jolly’s left I recognized as his roommate that came in here a few weeks ago. 

"Hey you, the usual?" I asked. 

He smiled with a slight nod. "You know me so well."

I peered over to the two others, pointing to the one I recognized. “Noah, right?” 

The heavily tattooed man nodded while adjusting the hood of his sweater and that's when I noticed the writing along the front of it. 

“Oh, shit. Hereditary! I love that movie,” I exclaimed. 

Noah's eyes brightened. “Yeah?” 

“A24 has made some phenomenal films. Although, the ending kind of fucked me up,” I admitted with a laugh.

As I looked over to the other man who wore glasses, I missed the look that Jolly and Noah shared. 

“Hi, I’m Astrid.” 

“Jesse,” he held a hand against his chest. “Jolly’s other roommate. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about this place.” 

“Oh,” I gazed back over to Jolly, never taking my eyes off of him. “All good things, I hope?” 

Jolly licked his lips. “Definitely.” 

It seemed as if time slowed to almost a stop as we stared at each other and there was a pull deep within my soul that made me want to step into his embrace, letting him wrap those arms around me. 

Clearing my throat finally, I motioned to the coffee machines. “What can I get you guys?” 

Already knowing Jolly’s order, Noah and Jesse gave me theirs and I went to work getting it ready while they sat in Jolly’s regular booth. When Tori came in for her shift, I asked if she could carry Noah’s and Jesse’s drinks while I carried Jolly’s and the large plate of a variety of sweets for them. 

“The one in the black hoodie is cute,” Tori nodded towards Noah. 

I tilted my head towards her. “Oh, what happened to Tyler?

“Ugh, don’t say his name. I want to forget the last two weeks of my life with that man,” Tori stated. 

“Fair enough,” I nodded firmly and chuckled. 

“Besides,” she shook out her long red locks, “I seemed to have found someone else to occupy my mind with.” 

“Tori,” I warned as we walked over to the guys’ table. 

“Here you guys go,” she all but ignored Jesse while smiling down at Noah as she gave him his drink. 

Noah kept his attention on his phone, only briefly giving Tori a smile of thanks before he went back to typing away on his phone. Her confidence deflated but she still kept that brightening smile on her face. 

As I set down Jolly’s cup and plate of fresh kanelbullar as promised, he gazed up at me with a smile. 

“Thank you, Astrid.” 

I shivered at the way he said my name. 

“Of course. Do you guys need anything else?” I asked all three of them. 

“Actually,” Noah spoke up while giving me his full attention. “My girlfriend is meeting us here and asked if I can put her coffee order in.” 

Tori faux sighed before retreating to behind the coffee counter. Jesse watched her with raised brows. 

“Tori will be fine,” I chuckled. “What does your girlfriend want to drink?” 

“Medium chai tea iced with oat milk, please,” Noah smiled warmly as he rattled off the drink; almost as if he was remembering a memory. 

“Oh, a girl after my own heart,” I joked. “What’s her name?” 

After Noah told me her name, I tapped the table twice before stalking back to the coffee bar, feeling a set of hot eyes on my back the entire time. I was quick to make the drink, all while humming a soft tune to myself, and as I turned back to bring the drink to Noah, the bell above the door rang. I watched as a brunette walked in, eyes gazing almost over every inch of my space with a faint smile before she noticed the guys. Quietly, she tiptoed over to Noah and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, leaving a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

Just watching how the two of them interacted and all the love in their eyes, as they stared at each other before Noah cupped her cheek to lay a kiss on her lips, made my heart yearn for love like that. 

"Sorry I'm late,” the brunette apologized as Noah pulled out the seat next to him. “Chase and Malcolm wanted to catch up after the album release party.” 

"Order for Y/N!" I called out with a smile.

The brunette, Y/N, went to stand, but Noah was quick to force her gently back into her seat. “No, angel. Let me get it.” 

My eyes locked with Jolly’s and he quickly waved off his friends. “I can do it. Sit.”

While he walked towards the counter, I noticed Noah mutter something in Y/N’s ear, her giggling widely. 

“Could I also get a few mochis?” Jolly asked as he reached me. 

I nodded. “Of course. Any specific flavor?” 

“Whichever is fine. Y/N and Noah have a weird connection with them.”  

My brows furrowed as I went about to plate a few of them. “Really?” 

“That’s his nickname,” Jolly smiled as I handed him the plate of mochis and Y/N’s coffee. 

“A nickname, huh?” I wiped my hands on the sides of my dress before leaning my elbows on the counter to rest my chin in my palm.  

“Don’t tell him I told you, he gets uptight.” He chuckled while leaning down towards me. 

I peered up at him while fake-locking my lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Have you,” Jolly’s fingers grazed over one of the tattoos on my arm and I shivered under his touch. “Have you ever had a nickname?”

His tattooed fingers brushed back the long strands of hair as I gazed upon the sharp features of his face, the defined cheekbones, and the facial hair that surrounded his perfect, plump lips. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been given a nickname," I answered truthfully. 

“Oh well that’s just a shame,” Jolly shrugged. 

His confidence gave me some of my own and I gazed up at him through my lashes as he continued to stand on the other side of the counter. 

“It is," I tucked a strand of my white hair that somehow fell from my French braid behind my ears. "Any suggestions?”

“Käraste," Jolly said almost too quickly, as if he thought about this before. 

My cheeks burned as I locked eyes with him. Hearing the unknown word fall from his lips made my stomach flip and pussy clench. I squeezed my legs together to curb the itch. 

“What? Too much?” He asked, suddenly self-conscious. 

I quickly shook my head to reassure him while standing straight up on my feet. “No. No, I- I like it. What does it mean?”

With a smirk, Jolly tapped the counter before grabbing the cup and plate of mochis. "I think I'll keep that to myself." 

I chuckled while shaking my head and watched as he walked back over to the corner couch, where his friends waited for him.

For a while, I was busy running the front counter while Sean and Tori worked the kitchen area. There’d been a slow steady stream of customers that kept us all busy but I knew that at some point I needed to slip back into my office for management work. However, before I did that, I brought the pot of black coffee and a small jar of sugar over to Jolly to refill his cup and then set down the sugar. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N!” 

Giving her a bright smile, I shook her extended hand. “Hi, I’m Astrid.” 

Y/N motioned to Jolly. “I’m glad I listened to him about coming here. I’ve been wanting to for a while now, my therapist is right next door, and every time I walk past, the smell of the sweets gets me.” 

“Oh, Dr. Poulos! She comes in every day before her two p.m. appointment and gets a small cup of Greek coffee and baklava to go,” I informed. 

Noah spoke next. “You know, I noticed the to-go bag in her office one time but never put two and two together.” 

Y/N linked her fingers with his to rest them in her lap. “Well, it’s a lovely place you have here. The mochi are delicious.” 

“Thank you,” I smiled. “Well, I won’t bother you guys any longer. If you guys need anything else, let Tori or Sean know and they’d be happy to help you.” 

Before I could walk away, Jolly’s fingers grazed over mine and I peered down at him. 

“Thank you, käraste.”

My cheeks burned as I squeezed his hand and slipped away from them, into the confines of my office to enjoy the way the nickname set every fiber of my being ablaze. 

Since it was Sunday, I always closed Fika at 5 p.m. so I could enjoy the rest of my evening at home. So for the next few hours, I spent time in my office to finish my bookwork. By quarter to five, I dismissed Tori and Sean, sending them home, and walked up front to start closing up. Nearly tripping over my feet, I was shocked to see Jolly was still sitting in his booth. 

“You’re still here?” I asked, coming to a stop in front of his table. 

He shrugged while closing his laptop. “I know the shop is closing soon and wanted to make sure you’re fine closing up by yourself.” 

I quickly shook my head. “Oh, you don’t have to do that, Jolly. It’ll be a while before I’m ready to leave and I can’t ask you to stay around and wait for me,” 

“You didn’t ask. I offered,” he smiled while rising from the table, and going about to help me clean up. 

We worked in silence as I shut down the machines and when I was shutting off the lights, hiking my bag up on my shoulder, I let Jolly lead me out the front door so I could lock it, not before setting the alarm. 

“Can I walk you to your car?” Jolly asked. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” I bit my lip and nodded. 

The setting sun cast him in an orange hue, with pinks, and purples emanating from behind him and I sucked in a breath and how gorgeous he looked. We began walking step by step to the back alley where I parked my car, Jolly’s fingers grazing over mine and it was just enough contact to make my heart hammer loud and hard in my chest. 

“Your friends seem really nice,” I said, finally breaking the silence, as we came to a stop in front of my car. 

Jolly smiled. “They are. I love them, they’re my family.” 

My lips pulled in a tight line. “It must be a nice thing to have. I’m the only family I have here.”

He picked up on the way my voice faltered with my words but didn’t want to press the issue. Instead, he lifted a hand to brush away a strand of hair, tucking it behind my ear. His fingers were on the side of my neck and I let my eyes flutter shut at the feeling. 

“You’re welcome anytime with us, Astrid,” Jolly’s voice was hushed. 

Now his fingers were wrapped behind my neck to tilt my head up towards him. Opening my eyes, I sucked in a breath at how close his lips were to mine, his warm breath fanning over my bottom lip. 

“I’d like that,” I admitted with my bottom lip caught between my teeth. 

His eyes scanned my face. “We’re having a small party tomorrow night. A little housewarming thing. I’d love it if you’d come.” 

We were so close now, that I could almost taste his lips.

“You would?” I questioned. 

Jolly eyes told me his answer before his words did. “Definitely.” 

When I first opened Fika, I told myself not to fall into bed with the first handsome customer I met because it could spell disaster if things went sour. I needed to focus on my business, not let a pair of dark almond eyes distract me. And yet, here I was sinking further deeper into the abyss of those eyes. 

“Sure, I’ll be there,” I said while my hand gently played with the strings of his sweater. 

One of his hands was still grasped behind my neck while his other rested on my hip. “Käraste, kan jag kyssa dig?”

I blinked up at him, confusion etched on my features, and I shook my head in his grasp. “What did you say?” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Jolly’s voice dropped to a dangerously low level and it made my insides burn. My stomach flipped a few times over as he repeated the question in Sweden again and throwing out all the negative thoughts on how this could be a bad idea, I stood on the tips of my toes to close the small distance between us finally. 

His lips were warm with the bitterness of his coffee but the sweetness of the kanelbullars. At first, we stood frozen, unsure who would make the next move, but soon Jolly’s tongue brushed against my bottom lip in a way to ask permission; one I immediately granted. His tongue glided over mine and it swallowed my moans when Jolly walked me back against my car, locking me in place with his hips. 

What started as a slow, passionate kiss, suddenly became one with force. Teeth scraped against each other before biting into the flesh of lips, hands grasping at anything they could touch. Jolly's mouth never left mine as he focused solely on making every one of my senses ignite with a blaze that shot straight to my core. He held me in place with his large hands on my lower back while I ran my hands through the long strands of hair, reveling in the softness of them. 

His scent engulfed my senses, making me dizzy, and when I fell into him Jolly made sure to hold me tighter. I felt the hardness of his cock pressed against my clit and dropped my head back against the car to let out a moan, one he quickly hushed by finding my lips again; almost as if he didn't want to let them go. 

To let me go. 

“Astrid,” he muttered against them, pressing his hips into me once again. 

I was nearing release by his kiss and the gentle brush of his cock against me. My body was sensitive to his touch as rough fingers dragged down the sides of my face to pull me closer to him. Our tongues danced together in perfect harmony and I nipped then sucked on his bottom lip just before he pulled away, resting his forehead against mine. 

“Woah,” I whispered while bringing my fingers to my lips. 

Jolly brushed his mouth over them in a feathery peck. “If I’m being honest, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” 

I giggled while wrapping my arms around his back. “I’m glad we feel the same.” 

We began to lead towards each other for another kiss but were interrupted by my phone going off. Reluctantly, I pulled away from Jolly to grab my phone from my purse, only to stare down at it with puzzled eyes. 

“Everything alright?” Jolly asked while brushing a finger over my cheek. 

I smiled into his touch and nodded. “Yeah. It seems like the cafe’s alarm is going off.” 

With quick fingers, I disarmed the alarm from the app on my phone and then gazed up at him. His cheeks were flushed still from our kiss and his eyes were pure black now, pupils blown wide from his own desires. 

Fuck, I wanted nothing more than to jump into the backseat of my car with him. Ride out the now fading high against his thigh. 

Shaking my head at the thought, I motioned towards the cafe. “I should go check it out. Just in case.” 

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

I quickly shook my head. “No, it’s alright. I probably didn’t pull the door shut all the way so the sensor tripped. But I will see you tomorrow night?” 

Jolly’s eyes lit up. “Of course. I’ll be busy helping the guys set up for the party so I might not make it in for my coffee.” 

I made a show of rolling my eyes. “How will I ever survive without you?” 

The corner of his mouth lifted with a smirk. “I’ll send you the address. Can you let me know everything is fine with the alarm then once you're home?” 

My heart jumped into my throat at his request. “Of course. Do you need me to bring anything tomorrow?” 

Jolly brought my hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle. “Just you, käraste.”

CONTINUE TO PART TWO HERE

[shiocreator]

I absolutely know i wont be able to write anything like this cuz not my expertise but

Had an idea of an undertale (i personally had this thought about underfell in particular though) x reader where you end up very vocally defending the monsters when they first arrive, (sure the idea monsters existed might be scary but its just cruel to toss em away again)

and after abit, end up working for Grillby, cuz, hey you need a job and hes apparently hirin', you have a good enough rep with monsters for gossip to spred from before, and you end up helping kick out a shitty human who was tryna start shit and getting a better reputation in the monster community, but you also end up gaining a mixed one with some of the humans in there

How I personally would end up making it, is a mettaton x reader, where eventually he learns about you through the positive rumors and he would love to meet a human that isn't against monsterkind, and you end up becomin pals with him n stuff,

but I can personally see a LOT of kinda potential with it on others, essentially just a good baseline maybe, monsters know who you are cuz gossip spreads like wildfire among em, and you work at a monster run establishment thats probably decently known to the monsters? So they could just pop on in and see you,

Grillby x reader? You work there, Sans x reader? Yeah you see that guy a lot, (he also witnessed you almost punch a guy as a first meeting) papyrus x reader? That one regulars loud brother(he also witnessed you almost punch someone),

alphys/undyne/tori/asgore etc etc who probably might not go to grillbys often x reader? they watched you violently defend the monsters right to exist day 1 and hear about you from the grapevine and end up curious about this human whos been a friend to monsterkind, etc etc

I DOUBT i'm original with this cuz its pretty basic, but I think its fun to mention just in case it can spark smthn creatively in someone, somewhere when I just can't find the motivation to write that in particular

I've personally been thinking about the kinda idea a whole lot with my oc in place of the reader n been havin a blast w it at least hvghv

So, go wild go crazy and if ANYONE does anything with this idea please tag me bc i would LOVE to see abnjks

[newestcool]

Tory Burch s/s 2024 rtw Creative Director Tory Burch Fashion Editor/Stylist Brian Molloy Photographer Armando Grillo Newest Cool

[wi55iams]

Worship (noun):

1. the feeling or expression of reverence and adoration for a deity.

2. great admiration or devotion shown towards a person or principle.

I have a lot of thoughts about Carlos Sainz Jr and it's about time i shared them. I'm trying to write a fanfic but i'm finding it difficult to articulate my ideas, this was is test run of sorts to see if I can communicate a message in a way that makes sense. Enjoy. Credits under the cut.

‘Hope is the biggest of our foolish things’ -Alfred de Vingy // Mark Thompson for Getty Images // Carlos Sainz believes he deserves F1 seat // ‘To wish was to hope and to hope was to expect’ -Jane Austen // Carlos Sainz’s last race with Toro Rosso // ‘Expectations were like fine pottery. The harder you held them, the more likely they were to crack’ -Brandon Sanderson // Sky Sports // Marina And The Diamonds, Oh No! // It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story’ -Patrick Rothfuss // Medium // An ode to my father, the matador // ‘Maybe if you sleep where another person sleeps and do what that person does, then eventually you’ll start turning into that person’ -Jack Cheng // Ferrari, one name two destinies // Jos and Carlos Sr on their sons’ rookie seasons // ‘Christianity is a religion built around a father who does not rescue his son. It is the story of a son whose father is a ghost’ -Terrance Hayes // Carlos Sainz poses with his father // Jos and Carlos Sr on their sons’ rookie seasons // ‘Perhaps it’s impossible to wear an identity without becoming what you pretend to be’ -Orson Scott Card // Sky Sports // Junior status; Sharing dad’s name a mixed bag // ‘Who did I think we were. Who did I think I could make you. This is the oldest mistake, to confuse wanting with magic.’ -Marty McConnell Emily Kagan Trenchard // Sainz thrilled with first podium after Hamilton penalty // The Crane Wives, The Moon Will Sing // ‘If you spent your life concentrating on what everyone else thought of you, would you forget who you really were? What if the face you showed the world turned out to be a mask... with nothing beneath it?’ -Jodi Picoult // Top Gear // Carlos Sainz: the boy who became a man // Motorsport.com // Mikky Ekko, Who Are You Really? // ‘Sometimes we want what we want even if we know it’s going to kill us’ -Donna Tartt // RacingNews365 // Max Verstappen tells Carlos Sainz ‘I felt sorry for you’ // Racefans // Carlos Sainz has openly discussed his contract regulations // CNN // Sainz wins thrilling Singapore GP // ‘Who wouldn’t want you? Whose most demonic appetite could you possibly fail to answer?’ -Louise Glück // Sky Sports // Carlos Sainz Sr Wikipedia // 'Do you still believe myths can save you? Foolish creature. Let me be clear: every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered' -Tory Adkisson // Sydney Morning Herald // Planet F1 // Luvbug, Icarus // ‘Sometimes I prayed so hard for God to materialize at the foot of my bed it would start to happen; then I’d beg it to stop, and it would.’ -Marie Howe, // ‘Click here to be saved’, unable to find original author // ‘God’s favorite follower’ by Tumblr user quiet-plaything // ‘God is fucking with my oblivion. If he wants forgiveness, he shouldn’t have given us memory’ -Vi Khi Nao //  ‘What you have to understand, is your father was your model for God’ -Chcuk Palahniuk // John Mayer, In The Blood // ScuderiaFans //